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Chapter Text

March 27^th, 1986

“From strangers to friends

Friends into lovers

And strangers again?”

(Strange) Celeste

“Do you truly believe you can win this time?” Aphrodite asks, lounging against one of the many seats in the Winnebago.

Eddie is uncharacteristically quiet. He thumbs at the edge of his knife’s blade, waiting for the sting of blood before he takes a deep, shaky breath. “I know I can. I know I have to.” He tears up and watches as the cut heals back into a scar that’s been there for centuries, “I can’t lose him again, V. I just can’t.” He reaches up and clutches his amulet. He doesn’t know why he’s held onto it all these years. It doesn’t hold his power, hasn’t in centuries, but he holds it in his hands all the same. He searches for its comfort on long nights where he stays awake, hoping for a moment of sleep so he can dream of his love, even if it always ends in a nightmare.

“I think you’ll win.” She offers. Eddie looks to her—the normally pessimistic goddess. “I’m not in relation with death in any way, but I know your power, and I know your stubbornness. You’ll find a way this time. You have to; there’s no one in your way.”

Eddie snorts, “Yeah, no one but monsters and an evil wizard.” He shakes his head, “How can I even save Steve? He’s going to be on the other side of town—no swords or bullets to jump in front of this time.” His jaw clenches, “Many more people to save instead of me.” He adds quietly.

“You can, Edmund. Believe me, you can.” The woman leans forward, “There are no friends in your way that can’t handle themselves. No diseases. No pain. It’s just you and Dustin this time. There’s a way to save him. I know it.”

Eddie nods his head just as the door to the camper opens. Nancy steps in, “Are you ready?” she asks.

Eddie glances to Aphrodite, invisible to all but him. He looks back to Nancy and smiles. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

***

Edmund Merther—the Puppet Master—was “executed” in 1715 by means of hanging along with ten other members of his crew, including Christine. The rest of the crew were either too cowardly to refuse surrender or lucky enough to escape. Theo and George, upon Eddie’s shouted order, were among the escapees. It’s no surprise Christine was captured, being as old as she was. Theo and George on the other hand, despite being in their early 60s (very old by 18^th century standards) were still strong enough to fight the Spanish navy and win, escaping with a majority of their remaining crew.

After his execution, while Eddie was still hanging by a rope feigning death, it was Theo to come to his rescue. Eddie stopped his act as soon as he saw the man. “About time you showed up.” he commented while Theo worked at the knot around his throat. Theo and George, though Eddie never explicitly told them, were well aware of Eddie’s godly powers, as was Christine. It was hard not to be aware when they knew he hadn’t aged a day since before Steve’s death. They knew anytime a gun was aimed his way and a sword hit against his flesh, they never pierced him—never made him bleed. They knew the bullets flatten and the swords bended. They knew Eddie’s execution wouldn’t really work.

They also knew Aphrodite, the new crew mate going by Amy, was far from normal either.

It was after the rope was cut and his neck freed that Eddie stared at Christine’s body. She swayed in the wind with popped eyes from suffocation and blue lips. “I’ll kill them.” He rasped, throat sore from the rope despite his healing abilities. “I’ll kill them all.”

“I’ll put the ship under the cliffs beneath the fort.” Theo offered and handed him his sword, “We’ll run as soon as you’re done.”

That was another thing about Eddie. He had changed far more than his addition of powers. He became angry. He became cruel—much crueler than before. He no longer gave mercy to prisoners. He no longer held back when fighting. He killed anyone who stood in his way. He had even killed other crew members for little mistakes and let them kill as they pleased. He avoided meals and parties, and he never sang, not unless it was screaming to the heavens. He blamed them for his fate, so he sang a song of rage whenever he could.

It was due to these many reasons that Theo knew he couldn’t stop Eddie from doing what he wanted, especially an act of revenge. It was a case of “get with it or get out of the way”; he chose the easier option, leaving Eddie to go after the Spanish navy alone, not that he needed help.

The massacre lasted all hours of the night and well into later morning. He was a ghost in the darkness, hiding in the shadows before striking at every sailor and soldier he saw. The men stared with hopeless horror, as arrows, bullets, and blades bounced off the captain far more damaged than he. They say in the history books that the outside walls wept blood like crying mothers with how many people he slaughtered; they called it Diablo’s massacre. Even now, the fort’s old stone walls were still stained brown. They say men were unrecognizable, and only a handful of bodies were still intact. Eddie knew it true, as he was the one who stomped their skulls into stone and watched them bleed through a most painful demise.

Once each soldier was rightfully killed, Eddie leapt from a cliffside to the deck of the boat, breaking the wood more than himself. He was covered in blood and gore, which dripped onto the deck like ink from a quill. It was that very moment that the rest of the crew realized he was more than a captain. He truly was the devil himself. There’s a pirate museum in Florida with an entire exhibit on him and his godlike stories. However, there was a much larger legend named for his next life.

About a year passed before Eddie realized he could no longer keep clinging to his old life. Edmund Merther was dead, and despite already being a legend, he didn’t want to confirm his legacy was far from fiction. The world was changing, and Eddie had to stop being so connected to his past. It wasn’t like he loved his life anyway, or that he was ever even immortal. Edmund Merther died in 1686; it was about time Eddie let that the world catch up.

Edward was the obvious name to choose, but to this day he’s still angry about his last name. It was supposed to be Meach, but names were often mistaken in the 1700s, so when he found a wanted sign for “Edward Teach”, otherwise known as “Blackbeard”, he scowled.

“Are these people stupid? How could they mess up that badly?” He asked. The nickname was stupid as well. Sure, he had a large beard now, but how unoriginal could they be?

“I told you to carve it into one of your bodies.” Aphrodite replied, “At the very least write a note.” The woman, though far from immortal nor immune to the effects of aging, still appeared young. She still had crow’s feet and greying hair, but she was just as beautiful as always. The perks of being blessed with godly powers despite being a mortal.

Besides the mistaken name, Blackbeard was one of his favorite personas he picked up over the years. Sure, Edmund Merther was a pirate and a legend for far longer, but Black Beard had more successes—was more ruthless. Unlike the Puppet Master, Blackbeard never had a phase of kindness. He was a murderer. He was a god among legends, and it was him who historians gave the credit of “Diablo’s massacre” to.

Blackbeard lasted a few years as a pirate until the navy caught up again. Once more, Eddie had to fake his own death. Only this time, he didn’t come back. One reason is because he had begun to grow tired of the sea years prior. The better reason was because it was much harder to fake his own beheading than being hanged; he took the opportunity to retire. He gave his fleet to Theo’s grandson, Matthias, and left the ocean behind. The world was changing, and the Golden Age of Piracy was coming to an end. The New World was coming, and Eddie wanted to be a part of it.  

He lived in New York City from 1719 to 1730 before moving to Pennsylvania. The colonies at the time were places of struggles and hard work. With more wealth than he knew what to do with from years of piracy, Eddie was one of the fortunate ones. He had invested in much land in these colonies, and Eddie became what he hated the most: he was a part of the elite. Even worse, he was a landlord.

He told himself it was for a good cause. Afterall, once he saved Steve, he could give his siren everything. Steve would never stress for his extra century alive; he’d live a good life—a perfect life. Eddie even bought a building suitable for a bakery just in case Steve would want it. Eddie admittedly went a bit extreme with his spending, but he had nothing better to do than toss his money in the north; he avoided the south for many reasons.

As the colonies and new world slowly grew into its own country, and as the Revolutionary War was in the horizon, Eddie found himself lost. Well, not lost, he was bored. All he did was spend his money, manage his finances, and fight with British soldiers. Well, that last part was fun, but the recent politics stopped that pastime just as it began to become his favorite hobby. All this to say, Eddie was never built for a mundane world. He was never one for sitting in the sun or cleaning one of his many homes. All he knew was thievery and crimes. So, he did the next best thing.

Becoming a bandit was very similar to becoming a pirate. All he had to do was intimidate, build a legacy, get a gun, a horse, and steal. It was around the time Aphrodite died, so he had to do it all alone. It was a fateful day when he hired men to watch all his land, bought a horse, and rode west, never looking back to the coast. Never looking back at the sea.

The thoroughbred he bought was named Bella, she was a brown horse with white spots, and she lived for 26 years. He then rode her son before he got killed in a gun fight. Then he rode her son’s daughter, named Shadowmere, who had somehow developed a black, silky coat in her line of breeding. Just him and his horse, Eddie became a quick legend in the bandit world. He was one but as powerful as ten men, with the luck of twenty. Many wanted to join his side, but he liked being alone. It was less stressful—less chances of betrayal—less chances of anyone getting in his way.

Of course, that mindset of Eddie’s only lasted until he found Aphrodite again. Then, a few years later, she convinced him to take in a man they’d found by the name of Benjamin, who was an escaped slave. From there, they met a man named Mato, then a man named John.

It was this crew that he tormented the desert with. It was with this crew that Eddie robbed trains, banks, and any other great treasures he could find. It was with this crew that he rode into a town all but forgotten, turned to ash and dust. It was with this crew that Eddie helplessly watched his love die a second time. It was this crew he killed by the end of his bandit days. It was this crew he burned, shot, and slain. It was this crew who killed Steve.

It all started in the town Fool’s Gold, where he met Steven Henderson. The most ruthless sheriff in the Wild West.

February 26^th, 1786

“1… 2… 3… 4…” Eddie took a step per number, holding his pistol to his chest with his other hand around his back, “7… 8… 9…” he turned on ten, pointing his gun to his opponent. Anyone with a trained ear and eye could tell the sheriff shot first, but it never mattered when it came to dueling Eddie. The man felt the bullet bounce off his chest like someone had thrown a pebble his way, even if it still ripped a small hole in his shirt. However, Eddie’s bullet did what it was supposed to and pierced the man’s chest. With the sheriff shot to the heart and dead in an instant, Eddie had won yet another duel. He blew his smoking gun and tucked it away with a satisfied grin.

His loyal servants—the members of his gang—crowded around him with cheers in their throats and offers of drinks in the air. Eddie shook his head fondly. They acted like this was his first duel. It wasn’t—far from it, actually. If there was one thing Ed Merry, the gunslinging bandit of the west, was good at, it was dueling—killing. To most who saw his fights, he was a legend. He never shot first, yet he always made it out alive and unscathed. Some said he could catch bullets; others said he wore armor beneath his clothes; most people knew the truth but spoke it like a myth. Eddie couldn’t be killed because he was a dead man walking; he was surviving despite the rot in his bones. They called him “Dead Ed” as a result of such a rumor, and they were right.

Eddie’s been dead for a century.

“Pay up.” Benjamin, one of the members of Eddie’s crew, spoke with a gun held to the heads of the betters. Eddie doesn’t remember the name of the man he killed; he stopped caring about things like that years ago. All he knew was that the man’s friends betted against Eddie, so him and his crew got the winnings.

The people scowled or cried as they handed over their money. Benjamin took it with a smile, occasionally growling at the people just to watch them flinch. Eddie laughed as he dragged the body over to the side to search his pockets. There was a pocket watch, some drawings, cash, and some poems. He took everything he found, having become somewhat of a hoarder in the past century. He never kept things for himself, though. He kept things to later give to Steve—to give his lover a chance to hear all about Eddie’s life with Eddie gone.

“You’d keep your own shit if you had a proper case for it.” Benjamin teased while he packed his own bags, and Eddie was organizing his findings.

“The only shit I keep around is you guys.” Eddie shot back. The rest of his crew, Mato, John, and Aphrodite, were on their horses across the dirt road. Benjamin was Eddie’s right-hand man, even if he only trusted Aphrodite these days.

But she, just like the others, did die by Eddie’s hand. 

“Love you too.” Benjamin joked.

Benjamin was a lean but muscular man. He rarely wore a shirt, showing off the plethora of scars on his back and front from many meetings with whips from slave owners and cruel men out in the Southeast. Eddie never knew the story behind Ben’s escape, never had the balls to ask, but he knew in the nights, when Ben woke up screaming or crying, that it wasn’t an easy battle to win. He also knew from the necklace, bracelets, and rings the man wore that he wasn’t the only one who tried to escape. However, he was likely the only one to succeed.

“Are ya’ll done out there?!” John called from his horse. John was white like Eddie, and he was on the older side, with a hideous mustache and bushy eyebrows. His horse was of the Clydesdale breed and stronger than a bull; all the bags from the bank they’d rob—the crime which led to Eddie’s duel—clung to his saddle like leaves on a tree.

John looked like Clint Eastwood… well, Clint looked like John, if Clint had a mustache. There’s a reason Eddie never liked those movies; there were many reasons he never liked John either. He could list out each reason, but then he’d waste another century. It’s better to sum it up as simple as possible: the man was a cunt.

“In a minute!” Eddie shouted back, finishing up wrapping his bag shut. He heard Benjamin laugh and looked over just to see the man pointing to a piece of parchment pinned to a wooden pole outside of the town’s saloon. “SHERRIFF KILLER” it read in all caps. Eddie ran up, scowled at the Wanted poster, then ripped it off the wall. “I look nothing like this!” He stared at the badly drawn picture with squinted eyes. “Is my nose really that large?” he held the page beside his face.

“Your nose is large, your eyes are like a deer, and your lips are round like a babe…” Benjamin replied, “That is one of the most accurate posters I’ve seen. I’d be more embarrassed that they’re only offering eight…” he trailed off and counted the individual zeros on the poster, “thousand dollars for your capture.”

“I should’ve never taught you how to read numbers.” Eddie sneered before reaching into one of the many bags on Shadowmere but one different to the one he’d just been digging in. He brought out one of his journals and folded the poster to be placed inside, planning to sew it into the parchment later. “I don’t understand your obsession of keeping things.” Benjamin commented.

“I don’t keep that much.”

“Train tickets, wanted posters, ripped bandanas—hell, you keep old bullets and broken weapons. I don’t get it.” Benjamin listed off his fingers before putting his hands on his hips.

“I’m sentimental, bastard.” Eddie’s English accent suddenly resurfaces, making Ben snort. Eddie removed his hat to wipe the sweat from his brow before setting it back on his head of hair, still long from his years as a pirate, though he did shave his beard down. “We’ve got t’ find a town to stop in; this one is too dangerous to stay in.” He forced his country accent back. It was more difficult to use, but it helped him blend in and avoid teases by his companions.

“Wanted here.” Mato, Eddie’s other man, spoke with a confirming nod. He wasn’t good at English, as he lived in a Sioux community before his family was killed. Eddie let him in the crew knowing a man fueled by revenge, though emotional, was usually a good fighter. Plus, he was the only one besides Eddie who could shoot a bow, and guns weren’t always the safest option for discrepancy. 

Swords were, of course, an option as well, but Eddie tended to avoid them. Too much of a reminder about how Steve died.

“We are wanted all over, ass. Any place ain’t different from every other place we been.” John pointed out. Okay, none of Eddie’s “friends” were very good at English, but he never held it against them. He was the only one in the group who could read, write, and count; Aphrodite could also do all those things, but she was a god, so basic academics was nothing to write home about. Not that she could write home, as she pointed out daily whenever Eddie brought up Greek Gods, mythology, or Olympus.

“We’re stopping for the night. The horses need rest and so do ya’ll.” Eddie pointed to his crew. “We’ll just go to the next town over and hope they have an inn and a saloon.” He compromised with a smile, already anticipating a night mob if they stayed in this one. He did, afterall, just kill their sheriff.

“I still don’t understand how you can spend all night drinking and still function in the morning.” Eddie shrugged with a half-smile.

“I’m not a bunch of pansies. I can handle my liquor.” Of course, it took a hell of a lot of drinks to get Eddie drunk, but he could get there. Well, he could get there back then, when saloons served the equivalence of gasoline. That fact was the only good part about the wild west. Drinks in the 1980s are like flavored water compared to the stuff he was served back then, though modern beer certainly tasted better.

They rode until the sun was gone and the moon was high. The next town was newer, built mere months prior per the lack of rotted wood and dust. Eddie paid one of the many stables in town to keep their horses before paying for his crew to spend the night at one of the inns. In the meantime, Eddie went to the only saloon in town, laughing as his crew jeered and teased him for his love of liquor. He ripped down any WANTED posters along his way and took a glance at the bank; it was hardly worth robbing, he decided.

The saloon was large: two stories with a wide bar fit with stools, wooden tables, a stage and piano, an upstairs with closed rooms, including one marked ‘OFFICE’, and orange light from lit candles and lanterns. There was smoke in the air, the stench of whiskey and sweat, and each man swore louder than the next, as they all drank, sang, or played a game of poker.

Aphrodite went inside with him, shielding her beauty with a simple spell. Nowhere back then was safe for a woman as beautiful as her—not safe for any woman at all, actually, but she had a power to change her appearance. Even then, she gained stares of some patrons while they passed the bar. They looked away as soon as Eddie pulled back his jacket to show the handle of his gun.

“I can handle my own, Edmund.” Aphrodite scolded.

“It’s Ed.” He corrected while sitting at a bar stool closer to the door.

“It’s Dead Ed, actually.” she further corrected while sitting at his right, which was further from the front door and facing it. She smiled at his responding scowl.

The goddess looked different nowadays. Outside of her consistent changes through shapeshifting, she was literally a completely different person. Aphrodite died in 1743, leaving Eddie alone for an entire 15 years before she found him in modern day Oklahoma while he was still in his “lone wolf” phase. In this life, she was indigenous, with olive skin and black hair. Her eyes were a deep brown, and her lips were copper. She was taller in this life but not slender, with a heavyset weight and thicker thighs, arms, and stomach. Even with the changes, when he first saw her again, Eddie knew immediately it was her based on beauty alone. That, and a part of his powers were apparently being connected to the woman.

“Whiskey.” Eddie ordered after waving down the tender. Aphrodite ordered water, making Eddie cringe. “Are you trying to die young?” he asked, as water was practically begging for dysentery unless freshly boiled.

Aphrodite’s face twisted into a scowl, “Anything to stop being in my 40s. My knees keep cracking, my back hurts, and I can’t even ride Christine without feeling pain.” Christine was her horse. “This is my 95^th reincarnation, yet I’m still not used to these effects of aging.”

“95^th?!”

“I don’t know! My mind keeps forgetting things. I hate getting older.” She crossed her arms and pouted like a child.

“You’re barely even old. I’m old; you don’t see me complaining.”

Aphrodite blanched. “You’re a 120-year-old man stuck in a 20-year-old body. If you complained, I would’ve found a way to kill you.”

Eddie waved a dismissive hand with a smile just as his whiskey was served in a glass. He stared at the copper-colored liquor and sighed. He took a sip of the burning fire before taking a much larger gulp. He finished his first glass before waving down the tender. “Leave the bottle.” He croaked, throat burning even with his high tolerance, as he slapped some coins on the counter.

He could feel Aphrodite’s stare even as he kept his gaze forward, watching himself in the mirror behind the bar. He knew she hated him drinking. He knew she’d say something about it if they weren’t in a public setting where him shouting wouldn’t have been good. Eddie knew why she was so disappointed; he was disappointed too. He never wanted to become a drinker, but grief does terrible things to a person. It can even turn someone into their father.

“We’ll find him soon. I can sense it.” Aphrodite spoke in a gentle tone instead of chastising his bad habit. She put her hand on Eddie’s shoulder. He shook her off and poured his second glass.

“So, you keep saying.” Eddie muttered into his glass before drinking half of it down. “I know I’ll find him soon. I know the terms of the curse wouldn’t allow us to stay separate for long, but I have a month to save him.” He finally looked to his only friend, “I’ll only have a month to be with him.”

“It won’t be the last time,” The goddess reminded him, “You’ll see him again.”

“After another century without him.” Eddie chewed his cheek. “I fail, and I won’t see him until next century. I succeed: I walk the afterlife until he joins me again a century later. Either way, I’ll be in Hell.” He poured another glass. At the back of the saloon, a man sat at the piano to play an upbeat song, as dancers stepped up onto a small, wooden stage. Eddie spared a glance their way before returning to his liquor. He looked at Aphrodite once more.

The goddess opened her mouth to say something else when her irises suddenly flashed pink. Eddie tilted his head in question before she raised her hand to silence him. She was staring at the swinging front doors over Eddie’s shoulders. Eddie followed her gaze just as the door swung open, but the person who entered was obscured by the large group of men in tall hats.

“About time you showed up Sheriff!” the tender shouted before pouring a glass.

Eddie—Ed Merry—Dead Ed—the “SHERIFF KILLING”—train robbing—outlaw felt his jaw hit the floor at sight of the “sheriff” in question. Standing beside the bar chatting with the tender was a man wearing brown leather boots, a wide brimmed hat, a black bandana tied around his neck, a long-sleeved shirt beneath a tight, black vest, and a leather holster. He had perfect, brown hair when he momentarily removed his hat to wipe his brow. He had hazel eyes that shined in the light, and more moles than Eddie could count but has traced a million times over. Hell, the only difference between this man standing at the bar and the siren from a century ago is the fact that he was sporting a beard that Steve had never been able to grow in his past life.

Eddie was shocked silent as Steve—his siren—his Stephen—approached him at the bar with an arrogant smirk. He didn’t sit, leaning his elbow against the wooden surface and grabbing the glass half empty of Eddie’s whiskey. He drank the rest down with a sigh before bringing back that smirk from before.

“Dead Ed, I assume?” His voice was deep, deeper than it was in his past life. Eddie’s mind was empty. He was pure emotion, instinct, and yearning. He could’ve had a gun to his head and wouldn’t know it. He was starstruck, but the only stars were the ones in Steve’s eyes.

“Stephen…” Eddie spoke softly, numb and deaf to Aphrodite frantically yanking at his arm, telling him they needed to leave. Steve seemed taken aback by Eddie knowing his name, but he brushed it off with a shake of his head. As the man approached, Eddie’s heart started to beat faster. His eyes shined with a built-up collection of years’ worth of pure love and adoration for this man. Steve got close enough to smell. He was gunpowder, salt, musk, dirt, whiskey, and the underlying scent of flowers and freshness that Steve had in his last life. Eddie nearly drowned in the scent. It made his mouth water, and his gut grow warm with arousal.

His hand moved on its own accord. It reached up, itching to correct the strand of hair sticking from Steve’s hat and dangerously close to his eye. The proud smirk on his lover’s face quickly fell into a mean sneer. He grabbed Eddie’s wrist with one hand and the opposite shoulder with the other. He twisted Eddie’s arm behind his back and pressed his cheek to the sticky, wooden bar. Eddie winced and frowned. “What the fuck…”

“Dead Ed, I put you under arrest for theft, murder, arson, shootouts, and every other crime under God’s blue sky.” Steve leaned forward until his chest pressed against Eddie’s back. Eddie held his breath to stop from the pleasurable moan threatening to slip from his throat. “I can’t wait to hang that pretty neck of yours.”

Aphrodite took the opportunity to bolt from her stool out the door. “Stop her!” Steve shouted, keeping his hold on Eddie’s arm. It was upon hearing his siren shout that Eddie snapped out of his lustful haze and remembered that sheriffs like Steve don’t get alone with criminals like Eddie. “Forgive me, Stephen.” Eddie groaned into the bar before snapping his head back. Steve stumbled back, clutching his bleeding nose, which was undoubtedly broken from Eddie’s defense.

Steve stared at the blood on his palm before looking to Eddie, who was clutching to the edge of the bar and panting. “I don’t want to fight you.” Eddie purposefully spoke in his full English accent for the first time in years. The candles in the room glinted in the reflection of Steve’s shiny badge. Steve’s hat flew off his head, and Eddie could tell his hair was still just as soft, even if it did appear unwashed and unkept, which wasn’t uncommon in the 1700s. Eddie pushed down the urge to grab Steve by that hair of his and kiss him like he’d been craving since 1686, as the sheriff wiped his nose another time.

The sheriff smiled and wiped his hand on his trousers to clean the blood. “That makes one of us.” he stepped forward, and Eddie grabbed his nearly empty bottle of whiskey based on a fighter’s instinct. He smashed it against Steve’s head and winced. “Fuck, sorry!”

The man stumbled back. His brow was cut, and blood poured down the side of his face. He wiped it off with a frustrated growl, even if more blood just replaced what he got rid of. “Brawl!” Eddie glanced over to where Aphrodite stuck her head inside one of the open windows, speaking in a deeper voice to pretend to be a man. She had a charm in her tone and glowing pink eyes, as she used one of her many godly powers. She could temporarily change the desires of anyone she wanted to; she could start a war but settled for a bar fight. Eddie silently thanked her with a nod of his head, and the audience began to turn against each other, dutifully ignoring the sheriff and the bandit. Steve stared at them in bewilderment before looking to Eddie, who shrugged with a smile.

“Looks like we’re contagious, darling.” He teased, unable to help himself. He relished in the burn of Steve’s cheeks, but the joy was quickly interrupted by the sheriff charging forward. Steve’s arms wrapped around Eddie’s waist, knocking the wind from the man’s lungs. Eddie raised his hands in a single fist, hammering down on Steve’s back while the man picked him up. Steve slammed Eddie’s back against the bar before forcing himself in between Eddie’s legs. One of his arms pressed against Eddie’s collarbone while the other held up the remains of the broken whiskey glass by the neck of the bottle. “This feels backwards.” Eddie joked. He took Steve’s momentary confusion to close his legs around Steve’s waist to sit up. He once again headbutted Steve right in the nose. There was another loud crack and more blood. “Oh, I think I just corrected that for you.”

“Thank you.” Steve’s nasally tone dripped with breathless sarcasm.

Eddie smiled, “You’re welcome!” Steve rolled his eyes before making two fists. Eddie dodged the first throw but quickly met Steve’s left hook. His own nose cracked and bled before quickly correcting. His healing factor had sped up a lot in the recent century. Lethal injuries, like being shot or stabbed, were still impossible to inflict upon him. Nonlethal injuries could be made, but they healed in minutes or, like his broken nose, seconds. All that being said, breaking his nose still hurt like a bitch. Eddie shouted at the pain and gritted his teeth until the correction stopped hurting.

“What the fuck?” Steve asked when Eddie’s nose straightened after being bent. Eddie took his turn to wrap his arms around Steve’s waist. He slammed his siren against one of the wooden tables, knocking poker chips and glasses to the ground. Steve spread his legs and wrapped them around Eddie, while Eddie pinned his arms on either side of his head.

“This is more like it.” Eddie breathed. Once again, Steve’s face twisted, and Eddie felt that familiar arousal in his gut. “Gods, this tension is delicious.” He continued. Steve’s face turned red before he bucked his head up. Eddie easily dodged it by pulling his own back. He laughed, “It’s cute when you try to use my own moves against me, sweetheart,” He hissed. Steve’s legs tightened around his waist. Eddie glanced down and smirked. “Bold of you to assume that’s going to make me stop pinning you down.”

“God, shut up!” Steve growled, “You’re the most infuriating criminal I’ve ever met!” He continued. Eddie snickered; this was just like their old fights. Sure, this one was much more physical, but Steve’s annoyed tone didn’t change one bit nor did how cute he looked when mad.

“And you’re gorgeous.” Eddie shot back. “You’re simply annoyed because I’m making you flustered.” If Aphrodite was still here, she’d smack him upside the head. “I can smell your desire, Stevie.”

Steve gritted his teeth and averted Eddie’s gaze. “My only desire is for rope to be tied around your neck.” He looked at that very same neck, and his nostrils flared.

Eddie laughed, “You’re going to have to do a lot more than that if you want to kill me, darling.” he tilted his head, letting a bit of the cruelty he’d redeveloped slip out, “Haven’t you heard? I’m already dead.” His eyes widened, as if he were telling a ghost story.

“I know people think you a legend, but you can bleed.” Steve looked at Eddie’s nose and nodded to himself, “I’ll make you bleed dry if it’s the last thing I do,” he promised. Eddie sobered up slightly. Steve sounded genuinely mad. Hell, not even mad, he sounded cruel. It was a strange sound to come from the siren’s once honeyed tone.

Eddie shook the thought from his mind. This was still Steve; Steve would never be anything but kind. “So, which is it? Shall I hang or shall I bleed?” Eddie asked, continuing their banter as if nothing was the matter.

“You’ll do both if I can help it.” Steve sneered then winced when Eddie tightened his grasp on the man’s wrists.

“And how shall you do that? Seems to me like you’re the one in danger here.” Eddie pointed out, his own anger displaying through a clenched jaw. Anger was the strong word; he wasn’t angry. He didn’t dare get angry at Steve; he was just so incredibly frustrated. He’d spent so long waiting to see Steve again that he’d forgotten that it wouldn’t be his Steve who he’d find. He knew it would be starting over, but this Steve was clearly far different from Stephen Howards, and it made Eddie want to scream. He wanted to grab Steve by the shoulders and remind him how kind his heart is. He wanted to grab the man’s cheeks and kiss him like there was no tomorrow. He wanted to do a lot of things, but he settled for keeping Steve still and pinned to the table.  

Steve stopped straining and collapsed back on the surface below him. He gritted his teeth. “So that’s it? Are you going to kill me now? You’ve killed every other sheriff from here to the sea.” He stared at Eddie with hatred in his heart, but the bandit leaned back like he’d been slapped—caught off guard by memories he hated thinking of but would never forget.

He felt a familiar panic rise to his chest. The buzzing in his head from years ago returned full force. It was like something in him had been dormant until that very moment. His heart turned faster, and his mouth became dry. The fear must have shown on his face because Steve’s strong expression turned somewhat concerned.

“No,” Eddie shook his head, “I’d never kill you, Stephen. Not you… never you.” It was too much all at once. Eddie may have been able to read and write. He may have been a landlord and a millionaire. He may have been the best shot in the West and an even better thief, but he was always a fool in love.

All Eddie could think about was the way Steve sang. The sound of Steve reading to him. All of Steve’s poems he’d lost when the Iron Maiden sank. He thought of the way Steve flushed whenever praised and the way he turned breathless with desire. He thought of Steve’s smile, brighter than the sun. He thought of Steve clinging to him in rough waves, shouting about sharks and the possibility of drowning.

“Do not let me go!” He’d screech, “I swear to Neptune, Edmund! You let me go, and I’ll never kiss you again!”

Eddie laughed and gently moved Steve, so the man clung to his front instead of his back. “I’d never let you go, love.”

“Never?”

“Not until the ocean dries.”

Thinking too much about it, all Eddie could think about was the way Steve looked covered in blood. All Eddie could think about was the way Steve appeared under the light of a full moon, and the way Steve’s breath rattled on his last exhale. His tan skin turning white as the sand beneath him.

All he could think about was how that version of Steve was gone, and all he had now was this version, and he’d have to make do. No matter what, he’d have to make it work; he had to save Steve…

If Steve died again, living on would only be that much more of a punishment.

Now, Eddie stared down at Steve and saw his own tear drop against Steve’s bloody face, mixing the crimson with some dirt. His siren was always so clean, but baths were a luxury in the desert—something Steve likely couldn’t afford. Steve’s beard was messy and dry, as was the rest of his skin. He looked tired. He looked older. He looked so sad. He looked like he’d killed; Eddie knew the look well. The guilt. The regret. The yearning to be better.

“I’d never hurt you, Stephen.” Eddie whispered, again, far too vulnerable. He was too lost in Steve’s eyes to notice the brawl around them was slowing down. It would soon become dangerous to be in this standstill they found themselves in, but Eddie didn’t dare separate from Steve. He’d waited a century; he could hold Steve for a few moments longer. No matter the version, he’d hold Steve for as long as he possibly could.

“How do you know my name?” Steve asked.

Eddie smiled softly. If he could go back, he’d punch himself a million times over. Too vulnerable. Too soft. Too much all at once, especially for someone like Steve. “I know all your names; I know all the ones I’ve given you. I know the names of the stars and the moon. Names don’t matter. The real question is why I know you beyond a name. Better than my own.” Eddie blinked. With immortality came other abilities—a better intuition—better connections to the world around him. Aphrodite had told him that he and Steve were soulmates, but he could feel the line tying them together. “Why you know me too…”

“I know you’re a murderer.”

“Yes,” Eddie leaned forward, “but you know I’ve got the will to be better.”

The two stared at one another in silence. Neither of the men’s holds on each other were even really holds. They were simply touching. Connected by Steve’s legs wrapped loosely around Eddie’s waist and Eddie’s hands gently holding Steve’s wrists, like it was the 17^th century again, and they were still lovers on his ship. “The only will you have is to cheat, steal, and lie. You’re a criminal—”

“Then why have you stopped fighting me?” There was another gunshot in the distance, and Eddie spared a moment to look to the entrance, where the swinging doors were broken to show the dirt roads. There, Aphrodite sat on her horse with her pistol aimed to the sky. Eddie turned back to Steve just in time for the sheriff to catch him off guard.

“The nose again?!” Eddie groaned, eyes tearing up. Once more, the bones cracked once to break and again to heal. Eddie growled and let Steve’s fist meet his cheek; his ring sliced into Eddie’s cheekbone. “Gods, Stephen, stop fighting me!” As a shock to no one, Steve did not stop fighting. Instead, he grabbed one of the wooden stools by the bar and slammed it against Eddie’s side. The blow made Eddie roll across one of the many tables in the room, miraculously not breaking it. He landed on his feet and fixed his hat.

“You stop fighting me!” Steve shot back, “Stop moving!” he further shouted out of frustration, stumbling over the many pieces of broken furniture and glass. He slipped on moonshine and fell with a yelp.

“Why the fuck would I stop moving?!” Eddie asked. He tripped over an unconscious man, landing on his ass right beside the bar. He glanced over at the man’s feet beside him and took off one of his loose boots. He chucked it in Steve’s direction just as the sheriff looked his way. Steve ducked back to the floor to dodge it.

“Did you just throw a boot at me?!” Steve peaked at Eddie through the chaos around them. Eddie grabbed the other boot before standing back up. Steve growled and pointed at the bandit. “I swear to God, if you throw that boot, I will shoot you!”

“Ed!” The bandit glanced back to see Aphrodite running circles around a forming. She’d clearly charmed them to start a fight once more, but Eddie knew the goddess’s patience was thin, and she was more than spiteful enough to turn everyone against him.

Eddie looked back to Steve and smiled, “Catch!” he chucked the boot at Steve before running toward the broken doors. Steve knocked the shoe away right before it could hit him. Eddie heard rather than saw Steve take the gun from his holster. He spared a glance just in time to see the gun get cocked; he stopped and tilted his head. Surely, Steve wouldn’t shoot him…

“Reach for the sky.” Steve ordered. Eddie raised his hands.

“At least by me a drink before you stick me,” He joked. Steve scowled and glanced around the room at the chaos left by Eddie and his crew. His head was still leaking blood from glass, and his nose was swelling.

“I told you; you’d bleed.” Steve pulled the trigger. Eddie gasped and jumped when the bullet bounced off his chest. Once more, he began to shake, and his ears began to ring. It had been a long time since loud noises had bothered him, collecting guns as Blackbeard and later being a dual master guaranteed that. Therefore, it was not the noise that scared him. It was the rage in Steve’s eyes. No regret, no guilt, and Eddie realized he was wrong. Steve was a killer, but he wasn’t mournful about it. There was no yearning to do better. There was only cruelty and rage. Eddie knew it well. He knew it just as well as he realized just how different Stephen Howards was from Steven Henderson.

Up until that moment, Eddie enjoyed fighting with Steve. It reminded him of the way they used to tease one another and wrestle on the beach. It reminded him of before Steve and him got together and the way they used to ignore the tension between them with tossed insults and avoidant stares. He remembers the day when Steve showed up on the beach naked in an attempt to seduce the captain, not that he needed to try so hard.

Eddie fought for a taste of their love, and Steve fought for a taste of blood.

“How did you do that?” Steve asked breathlessly, referring to the bullet bouncing off Eddie like a rock skipped through water.

Before Steve could get his answer, Aphrodite grabbed Eddie’s arm and dragged him to where Benjamin was keeping their horses lassoed to his own. The rest of the horses in town, belonging to the citizens of Fool’s Gold, ran wild in circles, spooked by the sounds of guns and the chaos around them.

“About damn time ya’ll showed up!” Ben shouted before charging toward one side of the crowd to let his friends through. Eddie climbed atop Shadowmere while Aphrodite climbed atop Christine. “Ha!” Benjamin used the spur of his boot to kick the side of his horse. The other two repeated his action, and they ran to the wooden archway of the town’s entrance.

While Aphrodite began to question Benjamin about the location of Mato and John, Eddie spared a glance back to the saloon. Steve was standing as a shadow in the doorway. Eddie had been called the devil more times than he could count, but Steve looked like Hades at the gates of the underworld.

His siren was never a siren but a kind man with a beautiful heart. Stephen—Sheriff Steven—was nothing short of a villain. A man ruled only by the law and by his duty, like one of the very Spanish soldiers Eddie had slaughtered all those years before. He had a fire inside him brighter than any Eddie had seen in his century of life, spare the flames he saw in his own eyes. No man had such flames without a past. A part of Eddie wanted to turn back around and sooth Steve with water until the firelight was small enough to observe without getting burned. A part of Eddie didn’t want to think about it—about whatever happened to make Steve so cruel. The rest of him...

“…they’re waiting out east right by our old campsite. We’ll continue riding that way until this all dies down. We might have to go northeast—”

“No!” Eddie looked to Benjamin as they galloped beside each other. The rest of Eddie wanted to take the easy way out. Steve was different in this life. He was a person bent on justice, and Eddie was atop of his wanted list. He would be arrested and hanged if he returned to town; Eddie was sure of it. However, he also knew he couldn’t leave Steve. Eddie swore he’d save Steve’s life, and he’d do that. Even if Steve didn’t love him. Even if he was cruel. Even if Eddie was scared. “We’ll camp out until the drama dies down, but I’m coming back.”

Ben blanched, “That sheriff tried to kill you!”

“Well, he didn’t!” Eddie shot back. “And I never invited you to join me. Go northeast if you wish, but I’m coming back for that sheriff.” He puts on a spiteful tone, as if bent on revenge instead of love.

Ben scoffed, “Your bloodthirst knows no bounds.”

Eddie ignored the man’s comment and spared a glance to the town getting smaller and smaller in the distance. He slowed down to trot by Aphrodite’s side while Ben stayed ahead. “You can read emotions and desires…”

“Yes.” She confirmed, staring up at the stars instead of at her friend.

“Does… does he hate me?” Eddie asked. Aphrodite slowed to a walking pace and looked to Eddie.

“He doesn’t know you.” She replied carefully, but Eddie knew that still meant yes.

Eddie looked to the moon in the sky. The cursed moon stared back just as bright as the night Steve died. It wasn’t full, but it still blinded the bandit all the same. He lamented. “And I only have a month to know him.”

Chapter Text

February 27^th, 1786

"Death ends a life, not a relationship."  - (Tuesdays with Morrie) Mitch Albom

“You’re going back?!” John shouted. When Eddie, Aphrodite, and Benjamin arrived at the campsite the previous night, John and Mato were already fast asleep in their pitched tents. Eddie had scoffed with a muttered unbelievable, to which Benjamin replied, “Us normal people have to sleep, Ed.”

Eddie didn’t give a shit about them sleeping; he didn’t know how anyone could fall asleep so fast. Even before becoming immortal, Eddie was lucky to sleep at all.

The following morning, when Eddie had stayed up and spent the night drawing, writing, and stargazing, John was the first person to awake. This meant he was the first-person Eddie informed besides Aphrodite and Ben that he’d return to Fool’s Gold Valley. It was because of John’s resulting shout that the rest of his gang woke up.

“In the name of my father, shut the fuck up!” Aphrodite shouted from within her tent, throwing a book at the loud man. John smacked the thing away and pointed at Eddie.

“That sheriff nearly got the best of y’all! The town is in ruins; you can’t just go back and expect everything be fine. They’ll catch you, and they will hang you!” At some point during the man’s shouting, Aphrodite had stepped from her tent and began miming him in the background, fully sticking her tongue out. She flipped the man’s back off when he finished, and Eddie had to cover up his laughter with a sarcastic scoff.

“Your faith in me is refreshing.” He crossed his arms. Mato crawled out of his and Ben’s tent and looked to Eddie with a frown.

“You get killed.” He pointed out, stretching his legs and arms upon standing.

“You will get killed.” Benjamin corrected, sitting at the edge of the tent instead of coming out. He was the one who took charge in trying to teach Mato English, as Mato tried to teach him his language.

It wasn’t working out that well.

“Yes, Ed will killed.” Mato pointed to Eddie but looked at Benjamin, who rolled his eyes exasperatedly yet fondly. Aphrodite said something to Mato that made him laugh, as she was the only other person in their pack to be fluent in his language. Again, goddess advantages.

“I have survived countless duels, shootouts, and hanging attempts,” he counted off on his fingers before throwing his hands up in a dramatic fashion, “yet y’all still think I’ll get killed anytime my plan is slightly impractical.”

“Luck runs out, Ed,” Benjamin sang before finally standing. He reached into one of the bags hanging form their horses’ saddles to grab some elk jerky. He talked while chewing the meat, “Your ego won’t always save you.”

But I can save him… Eddie thought, foregoing breakfast to feed his horse. “You won’t change my mind,” he insisted with a shake of his head before looking between them. “You can all stay here if you want, but I’m going back.” He looked to Aphrodite, hoping the woman could somehow guess what he was asking.

“I’ll join you only as your word of wisdom. We all know you can’t think for yourself, always blinded by your ego…” she looked to him and smiled, “and your cock.” John and Ben laughed while Eddie rolled his eyes. She acted like he was still the lover he was years ago. Granted, he wasn’t celibate, but he didn’t sleep around like she was insinuating. Not unless he found a boy dotted like the stars, with a head of hair so soft it was silk, and eyes as beautiful as the moon.

That, or unless he was especially horny. But don’t judge him. It was the wild west, and not all prostitutes were women.

“Well, I’m not leaving anytime soon. I’ll keep an eye from a distance; I’m not so foolish to go back right away.” Eddie pointed to the rising sun. “Y’all can go East; I’ll join you when the job is done.” He wasn’t planning to ever join them. The job he had was not one of crime or slaughter; it was one of sacrifice and love. If it were up to him, he’d die tomorrow just to get Steve to live on, even if the man was a damned sheriff.

“We’ll wait here,” John decided, “Lord knows you’ll need us when it all goes wrong.” Eddie held back his responding sneer by distracting himself with a drink from his flask.

“Very well,” he forced a smile, “I’ll wait a few days, but come then I’m going back. I expect y’all to wait until Dee or I request help. I’m taking my time with this.” He avoided their judging and confused gazes, though he could tell John was the only one whose gaze was different. The man crossed his arms.

“Why?” he asked simply. Eddie looked at him and frowned.

“Why are you questioning me?” he asked.

“I’m just making’ sure you’re not doing s’thing foolish.”

“I’m not. I have a plan, and considering I’m the leader, you should trust that plan.” His tone left no room for argument, so John merely scoffed and turned back to his tent. Eddie grabbed his knife and a large piece of leftover firewood. “No one bother me!” He called.

Their camp was a short hike up the side of one of the many hills in the desert. To this day, Eddie isn’t sure where exactly they were. He wants to say it was Nevada because that was where he wound up a few years after 1786, but that was nothing more than a guess. In pirating, he had the guide of maps of the many islands and oceans, so he always knew the modern equivalent of where he went. The desert was different. There had yet to be states. All the small towns had been abandoned with settlers moving out west and the country growing. Their maps, though detailed, were based on towns that no longer existed or names that have long since been changed. None of this mattered, of course. Even if he did know where he was, he’d never go there again.

Eddie lost the desert just as he lost the ocean. Just as he lost Steve.

He climbed up the side of one of the tall rocks nearby. He wasn’t the best climber, but it wasn’t like he had to be. Any scratches healed and any falls resulted in him unscathed. He still took the easiest route, if only to get to the top and away from the others that much faster. When he reached the flat surface, he sat down and looked at the horizon. Pretending it was a different kind of view, Eddie took the moment to take out his carving knife and a piece of wood spared from their firepit.

In this wooden surface, he carved a man he’d drawn ten times over, but a man he was shocked to find he’d forgotten. He didn’t realize how much his memory had failed him when it came to Steve. It turned out that Steve’s nose was larger than he remembered. His jaw was more defined, and his neck slenderer. He’d never forget those lips—the plush, softness of them, but he’d forgotten Steve’s eyelashes and the way they cascaded shadows over his cheeks. “Oh, Stephen…” he muttered softly, mourning the man his memory failed and worshipping the man he remembered once more.

He looked to the still orange sky from the rising sun. “Please let me save him.” He begged, purposefully slicing the scar on his thumb where he’d been cut a century ago. It healed in seconds; he sliced it again… and again… and again… and again… until the pain in his heart was finally beaten by the pain in his hand. “Please.”

February 29^th, 1786

After a day off to prepare, Eddie set off on a short expedition back to Fool’s Gold. Aphrodite went with him, as promised, but she wouldn’t be taking as many risks as he. She switched horses with Mato, swapped out her pants, buttoned shirt, and hat for a corseted dress and boots, and she applied powder to her skin to appear lighter.

“You can’t charm yourself to look differently again?” Eddie asked, as she used a dirty watering hole to apply the powder.

“Of course I can,” she sneezed when some powder floated up her nose, sniffed, and cleared her throat, “but using my powers uses energy, and I want to be prepared in case of an emergency. I’m no longer immortal and, thus, no longer have enough energy to use more than one power at once, nor could I use one for such a long time. Not unless I want to sleep fifteen hours every night.” Eddie would later learn that exhaustion was not the only symptom of using her powers: headaches, nosebleeds, fainting spells, and intense hunger were all symptoms of her godly abilities limited to a mortal body.

“Well, in that case, don’t wait up. The moment there’s any issues, you ride back to the crew. Don’t worry about me.” He helped her get onto Mato’s horse before getting onto Shadowmere.

“Don’t worry, Ed,” Aphrodite smiled and pressed a hand to her heart, “first sign of danger, and I will leave you faster than Zeus leaves a lightning bolt.”

“Our friendship is refreshing,” Eddie responded, beginning to walk ahead.

“You’re immortal; you can handle yourself plenty.” Eddie laughed and rolled his eyes. The goddess picked up her speed before Eddie had a chance to respond, so he simply waited and watched her trot ahead before continuing a slow walk. They agreed to enter at separate times, with Aphrodite going in first to create a distraction. Anything to keep the townsfolk busy and give Eddie some time alone with Steve.

He already knew for certain that Steve hated him. A sheriff and a bandit: society builds such roles for the purpose of hating one another, but Eddie obviously would not give into society’s expectations. He was going to befriend Steve. Love, as much as Eddie wanted it, might not be a possibility in this lifetime, but a friendship—or at least some form of tolerance between them—was something worth hoping for.

Fool’s Gold was just as they left it. The horses released were all back in their rightful stables, the streets were cleaned of anything his crew had destroyed, and people didn’t pay Eddie any mind, not beyond simple glances. Then again, the people still in the streets were those not at the saloon the night of the brawl. Those ones—the ones who wanted Eddie dead—they were all the targets of Aphrodite’s distraction.

Eddie tied Shadowmere to a post instead of putting her in an actual stable. He then walked to the sheriff’s station, making sure to pass the saloon. Inside, Aphrodite was on stage performing for a crowd. She danced in a scandalous dress, distracting the many men and women of the town with her singing voice and hypnotizing movements. Eddie, himself, would’ve stayed to watch if he wasn’t immune to the goddess’s magic.

After a quick wave sent to the woman, he walked the rest of the way to the sheriff’s office. Once close enough, Eddie began to crouch. He approached the building with his back to a fence line and his feet moving in slow shuffles. He went to the window instead of the door, planning to make sure Steve was both in the office and not doing something like cleaning a loaded gun, ready to shoot the first bandit to walk through the front door.

Steve was in the office, alright. He was leaning back with his feet kicked up onto his desk, a book in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other. His hat was sitting beside his feet, so his hair cascaded down to his shoulders. Steve’s throat bobbed around a drink of auburn liquid, and he wiped his beard with the back of his hand after sighing from the burning whiskey.

Nothing he was doing was inherently sexual, yet Eddie felt like he was watching a show of the sort. The way Steve looked so laxed, laying back in his chair like nothing in the world could dare bother him. Stuck in his own world, and Eddie watched as if welcomed to be a part of it.

Eddie waited until Steve finished a single glass of whiskey and poured another to enter the office. He walked in just as he approached, slowly and sneakily. Steve’s office was in the back of the small building, while the front was taken up by small desks for deputies and other officers. They were both empty, as were the two cells leading to the sheriff’s office. Eddie slowly approached the office, stopping at the door to take a deep breath before slowly opening the door.

The floorboards below his feet moaned under his weight, as Eddie stepped into the center of the empty office. Steve’s book, whiskey bottle, and glass were abandoned with the rest of his desk. Eddie glanced around, eyes stopping momentarily on the cell inside the office. He was about to verbally express his confusion, when the floorboards moaned once more. The door shutting behind him was followed with the familiar click of a cocking gun. Eddie chuckled and shook his head, “You’re smarter than you look, sheriff.”

“Put your hands up and turn around, slowly,” Steve ordered, voice dark, deep, yet nervous. A soft vibrato common only when Steve was feigning courage or on the peak of ecstasy; Eddie knew it well. Eddie turned around as ordered, but he didn’t raise his arms, opting to keep them at his sides. It’s not like he had his gun on him; he left the thing with Shadowmere—didn’t want to risk freaking Steve out. Turns out, the sheriff didn’t care. Gun or not, he was clearly intimidated by Eddie’s presence, and Eddie didn’t blame him. It’s not like the bandit gave Steve any time to adjust; the man’s nose was still swollen, and he had fresh stitches from their fight. Only an idiot would have their guard down. “I said put your hands up…”

“I don’t think I will.” Even if Eddie didn’t want to fight, he wasn’t going outright surrender. True, he was trying to befriend Steve, but he’d get nowhere from the inside of a jail cell. He had to keep them on some kind of even playing field, even if Eddie already won a battle.

“You already know bullets won’t work, sweetheart,” he reminded Steve, putting his hands on his hips.

Steve considered Eddie’s words with a couple nods of his head. He lowered the hammer of his gun, and Eddie was about to smile and congratulate the man—make a joke of some sort, but Steve merely chucked his gun at Eddie’s head. “What the fuck?!” Eddie exclaimed after he ducked. The gun clattered against Steve’s desk, knocking down the whiskey glass so it shattered on the floor. Eddie stood just in time to duck beneath Steve’s thrown fist. He stumbled, falling right back to the floor in the process.

Before Eddie had a chance to speak, he had to avoid another attack. Only, this one was in the form of Steve’s boot aiming for his face. Instead of dodging the kick, Eddie caught the foot in his hands and shoved it away. He then swiped Steve’s legs so the sheriff would take his own turn falling to the floor. There was a thud, followed by silence, and the two men locked eyes with one another before Steve scrambled forward.

With a shout, the sheriff shoved Eddie to his back, and the bandit allowed Steve to pin him down and wrap his hands around his throat. Steve squeezed, and it didn’t even hurt, but Eddie was always good at dramatics. He coughed and wheezed, grasping at Steve’s wrists until he dropped the act. Steve frowned, Eddie winked, and he spoke, “And here I thought I wasn’t into a hand around my throat.” He smiled and pressed his neck closer. “Go on, darling. Squeeze harder.”

In Eddie’s defense, interacting with Steve without flirting was like staring at the sun without squinting. What else was he to do?

While Steve was thrown off by the strange comment, Eddie wrapped one leg behind Steve’s thigh. He used the leverage and one free hand to swap their positions. Steve landed on his back with a pained grunt, as Eddie pinned him with his knees to his hips, and his hands wrapped around each of Steve’s wrists.

“Gods, here I am going easy on you, and you’re still losing.” Eddie leaned forward enough so that his breath tickled the edges of Steve hair, as he laughed. Steve’s face twisted in response.

“Your ego will be the death of you,” the sheriff sneered, trying and failing to toss Eddie off of him.

“I think your bad fighting skills will make me die of embarrassment a lot sooner.” Eddie snickered when Steve flushed with rage. “Though, I do admire your stubbornness.” He smiled like a shark, and Steve smiled back. It made something in Eddie’s chest hum.

“You admire me, huh?” Steve’s eye twinkled in a way Eddie hadn’t seen for a long time. So wonderful and curious, like he couldn’t understand how he could be admired at all.

“More than you could ever know, Stephen…” Eddie let his guard down; he’s ashamed to admit. He caught a glimpse of his siren and forgot that Stephen was gone. This was Steven Henderson, not Eddie’s precious siren. He forgot this fact long enough that he actually leaned forward, expecting a kiss from Steve’s pursed lips. Instead, he recoiled when Steve suddenly spit in his face. He fully pulled away and raised a hand, giving Steve the perfect opportunity to shove him off.

Eddie fell on his back and expected to be pinned once more, but Steve was smart enough to keep his distance. The bandit sat up with a groan and wiped off his face. “Bold for you to assume I’m not into that…” Eddie looked up from the saliva collected on his fingertips to Steve. He licked Steve’s spit from his fingers and rejoiced in the man’s reaction, as Steve recoiled in disgust.

“God, I should kill you now and not waste the rope.” Eddie should’ve learned by now not to assume things, especially with Steve tricking him so many times already, but he could’ve sworn Steve sounded winded then. His face also stayed red, and Eddie liked to think he was feeling lustful instead of just angry, at the idea of Eddie licking up his spit like it was nectar.

“Is that why you didn’t shoot me? You want to hang me?” Small talk was something Eddie despised, but something he tolerated in important cases. Then again, could discussing one’s own execution really be considered small talk?

“If only to give satisfaction to everyone you’ve hurt,” Steve confirmed with a nod, “that, and I think you’d look lovely in rope.”

“Are you trying to flirt with me?” Eddie was genuinely asking. This version of Steve was as confusing as he was beautiful. Outside of the few visuals leftover from the man’s past life as Stephen, he was incredibly difficult to read, even more difficult than words on a page. Eddie’s had over a century of practice with reading words; he’d known Steve for a few months, and that was a different Steve! This Steve was like trying to read in an entirely different language! It was frustrating, humiliating, and confusing, but, oh, so utterly intoxicating.

Siren or not, this was still Steve, and Eddie had no choice but to find everything the man did so hypnotizing. He would always be a siren song, even if he changed his tune.

“Don’t be disgusting! I’m trying to threaten you,” Steve corrected with a sneer, finally sitting up properly. He didn’t relax completely, but he did lean against the door behind him, keeping both hands clenched, ready to fight if Eddie chose to move. “I want you dead, not in my bed.”

“Play your cards right, and you’ll get both.” Eddie winked, and he wondered how he ever got laid in the past century, if Steve’s strange expression in response was any indication of his flirting capabilities. Eddie sighed, letting his head hang, before he scooted back so that he leaned against Steve’s desk. He paused a moment to kick away the shattered glass still there before speaking again. “I apologize; I’m not good at this.”

“Not good at what?” Eddie tilted his head and snorted, as the answer was obvious.

“Talking to you; not used to having conversations just after a fight, I suppose.” He scratched at his beard, thinking for a few moments before speaking again, “Usually things like this end with a knife in my opponent’s throat, but that is not my goal here.”

It was Steve’s turn to snort, “You really expect me to believe that?”

“What is there not to believe?”

The man rolled his eyes and waved a hand, “You truly didn’t come here to finish the job. To kill me?” He spoke nonchalantly, as if he wasn’t tensed to the point of shaking, as if this were small talk with a friend and not a foe. Still, Eddie allowed himself a bit of optimism.

“I told you; I’d never kill you, Stephen.”

“How do you know my name?” It wasn’t the first time Steve asked but the first time Eddie answered in something succinct.

“I know you a lot more than you think.” Eddie replied, “Stephen... Stephen… Stephen…” he sang the man’s name like poetry, and Steve tilted his head.

“My name is also on my desk; can you read?” Eddie frowned and looked over his shoulder, ‘Steven’ with a V and not PH. The bandit hummed.

“Spelled differently …” He observed, looked back at Steve, and smiled. A silence that he couldn’t tell was comfortable or not fell through the air. Eddie sighed through his nose. He had a million things to say, but none were good. It was all too intense or not intense enough. He hated this small talk but couldn’t rush as he wanted. He was about to try to continue their conversation when Steve took over.

“If you don’t wish to kill me, which I still believe to be bullshit, what is your goal here? Do you want to rob this town? Do you want to take my job? Run me out? What is your endgame, Ed?”

Eddie’s jaw clenched. Too much too soon, he knew it so, but he didn’t wish to lie. So, he cleared his throat, “I don’t expect your forgiveness for my crimes, which I do apologize for, nor do I expect an immediate response. What I want from you is something better than forgiveness or freedom.” He leaned forward and held out a hand, even if Steve was far beyond his reach, “I want your friendship.” Steve snorted.

“You can’t be serious?”

“As the plague, darling.”

“Don’t call me darling.”

“Don’t leave me hanging.” Steve blanched as Eddie kept his hand raised. It felt like minutes had passed with them stuck still, but Steve eventually made a move. With a scoff, a smile, and a shake of his head, Steve reached in his jacket’s pocket and pulled out a flask, which he threw at the bandit. Eddie caught the object before it could contact his nose, and he looked at the carved initials in the leather case before unscrewing the cap. “How kind of you.” He smiled.

“No, how kind of you…” Steve smirked just after Eddie took a long gulp from the flask. The whiskey burned like always, but there was an underlying taste a usual mortal wouldn’t detect. A bit sour, like rotted milk. Eddie looked at the flask and turned it over, and a skull carved into the other side made him blanch.

“Now that was a cheap trick…” he scolded the sheriff before the dizzy feeling began to set in. It wasn’t lethal; Eddie could tell. A lethal poison wouldn’t affect him, but this kind would still work. It would still knock him out, if only for a few minutes. If only long enough for Steve to lock him up.

“No, that…” Steve stood and approached the criminal, “was the end of your reign.” He reached down and snatched the flask from the floor, “Dead Ed, you are officially under arrest.” He smirked cruelly, “I hope you like the feeling of rope.”

“Oh, darling…” Eddie smiled back through blurred vision, “I thought you were against flirting…”

The last thing he saw before chasing sleep was Steve’s disgusted sneer.

***

“You fucking idiot.” Eddie woke up to Aphrodite’s snapping tone. It was nearing sunset when he woke up to the goddess sitting at Steve’s desk like it was her own. Her feet were kicked up, her hair was up, and her dress was replaced with her usual pants and shirt. Eddie groaned and sat up.

“Tell me something I don’t know, Dee.” Eddie smiled toothily, as he stood and walked to the bars of his cage. He leaned with both arms sticking out and one leg bent. “Where’s Steven?”

“At the saloon eating dinner; I left when I sensed him getting closer,” Aphrodite stomped her feet back to the ground, turned to Eddie, and crossed her arms. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

“I know, Dee—“

“You’re blinded by love, and you need to get your head in the game. Steven’s not going to simply befriend you with some small talk and flirts. You need to show him that he can trust you,” She lectured, as if anything she was saying was news to Eddie. “And now you’re in jail. You think he’s going to trust you after he hangs you? You think he’ll suddenly be your friend after you survive a snapped neck? News flash, Ed, he won’t!”

“I know!” Eddie snapped, grabbing his bars and shaking them with clenched teeth, “I know he won’t trust me. I know he won’t befriend me. I know I’m being an idiot. I…” his voice failed him with a squeak, and he took a shuddering breath, “I have missed him so much. I know my behavior has been nothing short of idiotic, but I can’t help it. I can’t help but be the lovesick fool I am for him. I can’t help it that, after all these years, his siren song has all but faded. I’m weak. I’m sorry.”

He didn’t cry. He rarely cried in front of anyone, including Aphrodite despite her being his closest friend. The last time he ever cried in front of someone was a century ago, when his siren was first laid in the sand, and he was alone. He’d never cry again, not like that, not in front of anyone but Steve. His siren always had a way of making him feel safe enough to do so.

Aphrodite’s stone face softened, “Just, please don’t do something you’ll regret. Hangings take time to prepare for; talk to him. Try to get him on your side. Sheriff or not, he is still your soulmate. He’ll listen. He can’t help it.”

Much to Eddie’s disappointment, Steve did not return to his office that night. All who stayed to watch and keep Eddie company was his deputy, a black boy by the name of Lucas, who didn’t bother to sit in the same room as Eddie, residing in the front, where he read books instead of actually watching the bandit.

Eddie, with nothing better to do, decided to sleep the night away. He laid on the floor of his uncomfortable cell and watched the sky through his barred window. Tomorrow, he’d talk to Steve. He’d have to…

If only he knew what to say.

March 1^st, 1786

Storms raged outside the window of Eddie’s bedroom. Waves crashed against the glass like hands knocking on a wooden door. They roared to be let in, but the windows were locked, and Eddie couldn’t get them open, and, oh, how he tried desperately to get them open. For his siren was just outside, stuck in the waves like a mouse in a trap. But a mouse in a trap had the luxury of a quick death; Eddie had to watch in horror as Steve barely kept himself afloat above the choppy waves.

“Stephen!” Eddie shouted, as his fists banged on the glass. Steve tried to shout back, tried to swim, but water splashed in his jaw, mixing with the blood pouring from his open mouth. His screams turned to desperate gasps for air, but all he did was take more water into his lungs. He was bleeding. He was drowning. He was dying, and all Eddie could do was watch.

A rogue wave splashed against the glass one final time, and when the water cleared, Steve was gone. His hand, desperately reaching for Eddie and the ship, sank beneath the waves like an anchor. “Stephen!” Eddie screamed, hitting the glass until it suddenly cracked under his abuse. He stepped back, as the crack splintered into shards that looked like the web of a spider. A moment later, the glass suddenly shattered. Water rushed towards him, and Eddie screamed, swallowing blood and the salty sea.

Eddie coughed and sputtered, as sheriff Steve dumped a bucket of water on him just before the man could naturally awake from his nightmare. It didn’t make waking any easier, as Eddie gasped and clawed at his chest, like he was still drowning. He panted, searching for oxygen through salt and blood, and he jumped when he felt a pair of hands grasping his arms. His ears were ringing, like he’d been truly submerged. It wasn’t until he blinked a few times that some noise broke through his screaming mind.

“… wasn’t real! You’re not drowning! You’re in a jail cell. You’re in the goddamn dessert; the ocean isn’t for miles!” Steve sounded frustrated and, dare Eddie say, worried. His eyes were wide and forceful, as they stared into Eddie’s. It made the bandit feel like an open book, but he knew better. Steve had no idea of Eddie’s past, only his story as a bandit and a criminal. Still, the sheriff dared to hold that worrying expression until he realized Eddie was finally lucid. Steve shoved him away just before Eddie could copy Steve’s hold.

“About time you woke up; your screaming was about to make me slam my head against the wall.” Steve locked the cell before heading back to his desk. He sat down, fidgeting with his hands while trying hard not to look at Eddie, “Even asleep, you’re the most infuriating man I’ve ever met.” His tone was shaking like thunder in silent air. He sounded broken.

Eddie didn’t respond, too busy doing his routine.

Sleeping wasn’t necessary; Eddie truly only did it to pass the time. Even then, he hated the activity. While nightmares weren’t an everyday occurrence, they happened often enough that sleep had to be paired with a routine. Eddie’s routine was a reality check. After a nightmare, Eddie had to follow certain steps to regain control of himself. He counted his fingers; he hummed a shanty; he repeated facts about the world, usually listing types of weapons or sea creatures; he did everything he could to calm himself down. He was muttering, counting to one hundred, when Steve cleared his throat. Eddie jumped and looked his way.

“You were saying my name in your sleep.” Steve claimed, and Eddie didn’t doubt it, but he did deny it vehemently.

“Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart.” Eddie played it off with a snort, as if the concept of saying Steve’s name was ridiculous. As if Steve’s name wasn’t Eddie’s favorite word. “You must’ve misheard me.”

“I definitely didn’t,” Steve insisted, “You were shouting it, only a deaf man would’ve misheard you.”

“Actually, a deaf man wouldn’t have heard me at all.” Eddie stood and leaned against the bars just as he had done when talking with Aphrodite the night before. “I wasn’t saying your name. Even if I was, your name is extremely common.”

“So, you admit it as a possibility?” Love or not, this Steve was rather infuriating. Just as stubborn as his siren but twice as interrogative. In fact, the old Steve wasn’t interrogative at all. The old Steve, though curious, never genuinely interrogated anyone. He asked questions, and he cared, but he never pressed, not like Steven Henderson. “You admit you might have said my name?”

“I admit it may have sounded that way. Steven is common and, frankly, basic; I could’ve said anything!”

“Like what?” Steve crossed his arms before leaning back and kicking his feet up.

Eddie floundered. He shouldn’t have gotten so defensive; it only worked to make him appear as suspicious as a man covered in blood. “Ethan…” he spat out, “Or—or Susan…” Steve raised a brow, “Liam…” Eddie sputtered. A strange flash of emotion crossed Steve’s expression before he schooled it away.

“For a criminal,” he smirked, “you suck at lying.” Eddie shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

“Hey, you’re the one who apparently wanted my dream to be wet.” He looked down at his soaked clothes and the bucket Steve had abandoned on the ground. Steve rolled his eyes at Eddie’s joke and turned to his desk, where he picked up the book from before. “What are you reading?”

“Why are you talking?”

“Oh, our conversation is over?” Eddie pouted, “But I was having such a lovely time talking to you…” he frowned and tilted his head to the side, looking like a kicked dog.

Steve snorted and kept his eyes down, “If it will make you shut up, and if you must know, I am trying to read Don Quixote, and I would like to do so without interruption.” Eddie smiled, as Steve flipped a page.

“I love Don Quixote.” He spoke sincerely. He had read the book sometime the 90s in the 17^th century. With Steve gone, Aphrodite and Theo picked up on Eddie’s lessons, and the goddess insisted he read the book just after she finished it. It was about a man and his squire trying to be heroes in an attempt to prove that “chivalry wasn’t dead”. Chivalry wasn’t dead, and Eddie read the story about three times before Theo insisted, he read anything else.

“You’ve read Don Quixote?” Steve sneered, as if the concept was impossible.

“You know I can read.” Eddie tried not to sound too offended, but he worked hard to learn! Who was Steve to judge him so harshly?

“You’re a criminal; sorry if I assumed your abilities are limited to the numbers on bank slips and your own wanted posters.” He shut the book after marking the page, and Eddie tried not to show his joy.

“You’d be surprised of all I’ve read, sheriff.” Eddie smirked, and Steve squinted.

“What, like fairy tales? Cinderella?”

“I’m not a child.”

“You behave like one.” Steve was about to reach for his book, so Eddie rushed to say something—anything.

“I like Shakespeare.” Eddie spit out. Steve flinched at the man’s sudden outburst and looked up with a frown. “Anything by him, really, but my favorites are Othello and Midsummer Night’s Dream.” Eddie shuffled where he stood, anticipating an equally admiration for the playwright from Steve’s end. Instead, the sheriff snorted.

“Shakespeare is for women.” He dismissed, “All that romance and drama; I hated studying him. There are far better writers to appreciate.” He talked as if his say was final—his opinion the only one that mattered. Eddie didn’t like such an attitude on anyone, Steve included.

“While I agree there are better writers, I find it incredibly arbitrary to dismiss Shakespeare simply because he writes romance.” Eddie crossed his arms, “And you’re right, Shakespeare is for women but for a reason likely nuanced to your own. They’re the only ones with enough emotional intelligence to understand his stories beyond such dismissals.”

“So, you’re a woman?” Steve exhaled sharply through his nose, as if being called a woman was an insult.

“I was raised by a woman; it’s why I’m not emotionally daft like you.” Eddie tilted his head, and Steve rolled his eyes.

“I am not emotionally daft—”

“Then just regular daft.” Eddie snickered and leaned forward, “It’s any wonder how you became sheriff at all.” That was rude, Eddie can admit. He wasn’t supposed to be mean, teasing maybe, but not mean. He couldn’t help it! He fell in love with Steve for a multitude of reasons, but this version of Steve was a display of every sour personality trait Eddie could think of. If Eddie weren’t such a patient man, he would’ve insulted Steve much sooner. And he certainly wouldn’t have apologized— “Sorry, that was rude.”

“Don’t mock me with an apology. If you wish to insult me, do it. It’ll make hanging you that much more satisfying.” Steve picked up his book, much to Eddie’s chagrin, but the bandit had other plans.

If there was one thing Eddie was good at, it was talking. And, boy, did he talk. He talked about anything and everything that came to mind. He talked about horses, the ocean, and sailing. He talked about sword fighting, shooting, and his dueling talents. He talked about other books, plays, poems, and myths that he’d read, as there were many. At first, Steve would attempt to tell him to shut up or, sometimes, respond, but after a few hours, the sheriff gave up and ignored the bandit in the cell. Though, once in a while, he’d smile or smirk at one of Eddie’s jokes. Of course, one could insist he was laughing at something in his book, but Eddie was observant.

Steve didn’t flip a page once in all that time.

“—and then George, the maniac, tried to eat the octopus live! Insisted it was a thing they did in Joseon!” Eddie laughed boisterously, and Steve poorly hid his own laugh behind a cough, “He nearly died because the poor thing got stuck in his throat!” Steve, for the first time in hours, opened his mouth to respond when there was a knock at the door.

Lucas, the deputy, entered the room when Steve gave him permission to do so. The boy walked in carrying a tray of food. It was then that Eddie realized the sun was already beginning to set.

“Thank you, Lucas.” Steve smiled and took the tray. The boy then handed Eddie a piece of bread and some meat. Steve frowned at the boy but didn’t chastise him for feeding a prisoner.

“Thank you, lad.” Eddie smiled, sat down, and ate the bread. The boy smiled and stood there, staring at Eddie.

“Lucas, you’re dismissed.” Steve tried to tell the boy, who merely smiled.

“Is it true you were a pirate?” He excitedly asked Eddie, who looked at Steve with raised brows. The sheriff almost looked like he was about to shoot himself, as Eddie nodded. This only made Steve looked like he definitely wanted to shoot Eddie.

“Worked on one of the best crews in the seven seas.” Eddie confirmed with a nod, “Got out rich, became a bandit, and now your sheriff arrested me.” He looked to Steve and winked, then winked at the boy, “Don’t worry, though; I don’t stay in one place too long.”

“It’s true;” Steve squinted his eyes, “he’ll be in hell soon enough.” Lucas and Eddie rolled their eyes at the same time, and Lucas quickly turned back to Eddie.

“I’ve read books about pirates,” He spoke like he was bragging, despite the lad appearing well into his teen years, meaning he’d normally be expected not to behave so childishly. Nonetheless, Eddie smiled and spoke to the boy as if he were Michael or Charlie or any other kid.

“Really?” Eddie faked an impressed tone, “Read any about Blackbeard?”

Lucas snorted, “Duh, he’s in every book!”

“Well, then you’d be impressed to know that he’s my great grandfather.” Obviously, Eddie couldn’t lay claim to the pirate entirely. Blackbeard died in 1718, but it couldn’t hurt to brag to the boy even a little bit.

The brag seemed to work, as Lucas’s eyes turned into two giant saucers. “Really?!”

Eddie nodded, “Aye,” he ignored Steve’s scoff and continued, “followed in his footsteps for a while before taking my business to land. Went from a damn good pirate to a damn good bandit.”

“One that will hang for his crimes, because that’s what happens to criminals.” Steve bit down on each word like they were nails to be hammered. He talked pointedly to Lucas, who looked to the floor then up.

“He thinks just because I read about pirates, I’ll become a criminal,” he told Eddie.

“Not to worry, lad, he’s just being daft.” Eddie shot a pointed look the sheriff’s way, “He knows you’re a good kid.” He leaned forward and whispered, “Though, trust me, the life of a bandit is a lot freer than the life of a sheriff’s deputy.”

“Alright,” Steve stood from his chair to usher Lucas out of the room, “that’s enough now.”

“What? No!” Lucas scrambled against Steve’s hold, as the man literally picked up the boy to carry him outside. “Is it true that Blackbeard faked his death to retire?!”

“Dead men tell no tales, Lucas!” Eddie shouted back right before Steve slammed and locked the door to his office. Steve faced Eddie with a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes.

“Hanging you is too merciful; you should burn for trying to infect that boy with your sinful ways!” Steve snapped, marching up to Eddie’s cell to speak between the bars.

“Relax, Steven, I was merely answering the boy’s questions.” Eddie scoffed, then, waving a hand, “I don’t understand how something like that can so easily offend you. You act like I actively encouraged him to go join a gang. Let the kid have an imagination; the gods know how today’s society desperately needs it.” he pointedly looked Steve up and down, exhaling through his nose when Steve scowled.

“I’m plenty imaginative;” he crossed his arms, “don’t hate on me for preferring the real world. Besides,” he smiled, “last time I checked, it was your foolish, imaginative mind that got yourself caught in the first place. You and whatever foolish fantasies you may have about us—our friendship.”

That one hurt. Eddie doesn’t know why; it was far from the first and even farther from the last insult Steve would throw his way, but it was something about Steve’s tone. Something about the way he laughed. It sounded forced, and Eddie dared to wonder why Steve sounded such a way.

The sheriff was wearing a mask, Eddie realized. This entire time, he’s been putting on a show. Even alone, he wore the mask more than his own badge, and Eddie wondered if he’d ever be able to see it slip. If Steve could ever be comfortable enough to present himself as whatever it is he’s so afraid of; what was the man hiding? Why was he so persistent in pretending?

Eddie didn’t get his answer. Instead, he got the silent treatment. And he, for once, returned the favor. He dared to believe Steve might have been disappointed without Eddie’s seemingly infinite stories, but such possible disappointment didn’t last long. Steve ate and returned to his book. Eddie sat in his cell and kept himself company with his own thoughts. He was good at thinking, and, after living for over a century, one learns how to pass the time with nothing to do.

It was as the sun was setting about half an hour later that Steve finished a flask before pouring himself another. Normally, Eddie wouldn’t have paid attention to such details—too lost in his own head, but Steve fully stood and walked to a cabinet in his office. He opened the swinging panel to reveal an arsenal of spirits, ranging from moonshine to whiskey to wine. He grabbed the whiskey bottle and opened the top. Eddie waited for him to pour some into the flask, but he merely carried the thing back to his desk and drank it straight. He sent a warning glare Eddie’s way, daring the man to comment.

Once again, Eddie stayed silent. This time, however, he didn’t stay in his mind. He allowed himself to watch Steve, as the man drank his whiskey. He still read his book, albeit slower. It didn’t take long for him to begin to sway and sink in his chair. Eddie had a pin in hand, ready to pick the lock and escape the cell to help the man if he were to fall asleep just to choke on his own sick.

The workings of the curse are not exact, but with Aphrodite’s help and Amelia’s journal, Eddie was able to collect some facts. For one, Steve can still die before his due date. He wasn’t invincible like Eddie; he could still get hurt. It was highly unlikely; the fates were on the curse’s side more than logic, but Eddie was still weary. He was still on high alert. In fact, he was so tense and wound up that he fully jumped when the door suddenly burst open.

“Lucas?” Steve slurred, “Aren’t you supposed to be home?” he leaned his head back. The boy swallowed, eyed the nearly empty whiskey bottle, then cleared his throat.

“Uh,” he glanced to Eddie, “Wren is looking for you.”

Steve’s drunken expression fell into something dreaded yet worried. It soon fell into something exasperated. He rubbed his face then ran his hand through his hair, “Okay,” he swallowed, “go, uh…”

“She’s pissed.” Lucas added with a wince.

“Of course she is,” Steve sighed and scoffed, “Okay, go to the saloon. John goes there after his shift at the inn. Tell him my wife needs a ride back home; he has a wagon.” He pointed his thumb at Eddie, who was trapped in his own head. This time, it was against his will, even more when his thoughts turned to static.

The hissing noise in his brain thankfully stopped, but only after Lucas slammed the door shut behind him. It was then that Eddie finally spoke of the one thought continuously repeating. “You’re married.”

Steve turned to Eddie, and he immediately pointed, “If you touch her—”

“You’re married?!” It felt like a punch to the face. Steve’s anger melted away, and he tilted his head. “You’re fucking married…”

“And you’re insane,” Steve scoffed and stood. He grabbed his hat and the whiskey bottle before sending a last scowl Eddie’s way. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get home to our son before my wife. And if you don’t shut that jaw and stop acting so surprised that I’m married, I’ll break it. Got it?” Eddie did shut his mouth but opened it once more.

“You have a son?” his voice broke.

Steve rolled his eyes, “Have fun rotting in this cell, Ed.”

Eddie breathlessly watched his love leave the room. He officially felt the worse he had in this entire experience. Steve was as cruel as the Master of Puppets. Steve hated Eddie. Steve was going to hang Eddie, Eddie would have to fake his death again, and, worse of all…

Steve was married.

Steve was married, and Eddie only had a few weeks left to love him, to hopefully be loved in return, and to save him. And, selfishly, Eddie wasn’t even sure if this sheriff was worth saving…

Chapter Text

March 3^rd, 1786

"Don’t waste your time in anger, regrets, worries, and grudges. Life is too short to be unhappy.” - Roy T. Bennett

“I hate him. I despise him. He’s awful, cruel, a ‘good guy’ with a stick up his ass and a sensitive trigger finger, and I hate him more than I hate crabs.” Eddie ranted to Aphrodite, who had again managed to sneak into his cell in the dark and early morning. It wasn’t difficult, as Steve had unfortunately not been there the entirety of the day prior, likely at home with his wife. Because, of course, Steve had a fucking wife. Eddie crossed his arms despite the tears streaming down his cheeks. He was sitting on the cell floor, where he had been sitting for hours on end. The piss bucket in the corner had begun to piss him off even more than Steve. Seriously, what’s immortality worth if he still has to piss?!

“I hate him.” He repeated, kicking the bucket with a scowl just to grimace when some of its contents splashed on his leg.

“No, you don’t.” The goddess corrected, tossing him a rag. She was once again lounging at Steve’s desk like she owned the place. This time, she had a book in hand and was idly flipping through the pages. Her flask rested in her lap, and she took a swig of it every few minutes, taking turns tossing it to Eddie when he requested.

Eddie shook his head and ran a hand over his face, “No, I don’t,” he agreed with a heavy sigh, “I just miss him. I miss Stephen, not Steven.” He made sure to overpronounce the spelling differences in the names, hissing the ‘v’ with his teeth pressed against his bottom lip. “He was once so kind; how could he be so cruel in this life?”

“History, even with rebirths and souls occasionally moving from one life to another, never truly repeats itself, Ed.” She began to braid her hair, focusing on that instead of on Eddie, “At most, it will rhyme.” She shut her book and set it aside. “Time is poetry; history is a song.”

“If this all is meant to be a song, it’s the worst one I’ve ever heard.” Eddie shuffled in the dirt with his hands rested on his bent knees. Aphrodite had been kind enough to bring him tobacco, but even the leaf in his mouth couldn’t sooth his aching heart. “Does Zeus hate me? Are the fates playing a joke? Are all the gods laughing at me?” he directed these questions to the wooden ceiling above them, as if speaking to the heavens.

Aphrodite snorted, “They’d have to stop laughing at me first.” She grabbed her own handful of tobacco and chewed as she spoke, “You’re immortal; that counts for something with the gods. I’m a mortal with the ability of a god, but I gave up my godly status and any true power by getting tricked.” She laughed, “By a human of all beings! I’m the laughingstock of Olympus. They all hate me!” She spit on the ground before considering, and she shook her head, “Yet I miss them.” She glared at Eddie for a moment. She considered Eddie a friend, he knows for certain, but that didn’t mean the cruel emotion of a grudge didn’t sneak in every once in a while. Had Eddie not prayed to the gods a century ago, giving his power to a dead man and starting this wretched curse, he could’ve given it all to her instead. She’d be back home, and Eddie would be with Steve forever in the afterlife.  

The bandit in a cage looked over at her. He furrowed his brows and shook his head, “It’s normal to miss home.” He paused and smiled softly, “I sometimes miss the ocean.”

“I could’ve guessed that.”

“No,” Eddie shook his head, “no, you misinterpret me. I don’t miss the ocean, not really.” He rested his elbows on his knees, “The ocean stopped being a home for me long ago.” He leaned his head against the wall behind him. “I don’t think home is a place to me; I don’t think it was or ever could be. It’s Stephen, yet, seeing him now, my homesickness remains a thorn in my heart. This Steven doesn’t feel like home. This place doesn’t feel like home; it feels like a prison.” Eddie waved his hand, “I miss the ocean.”

The woman glanced to the bars of his cell. “But you still want to save him?” her tone was part caring and part urgent. After all, Eddie had to save Steve, or else she’d be locked out of Olympus for an extra century beyond the single century she’d already wait for had Eddie succeeded. The goddess was not about to risk wasting more time than necessary.

“Of course I do!” Eddie snapped before sighing, “But how could I save someone so cruel?” Cruelty was a hideous thing. It looked strange on Steve’s beautiful face. “Someone so violent… so unwilling to be helped…”

“If I remember correctly,” Aphrodite glanced out the window at the rising sun, “a certain siren asked himself the same question regarding you.” She grabbed the bag of her tobacco and hat before walking to the door, “Stephen saved you even at your worst. Steven deserves the same treatment.” She too exaggerated the ‘v’ before putting on a cocky smile.

“I was never as good of a person as Stephen.”

She tilted her head and opened the door, “But he believed you were.”

***

“Where is Steven?” Eddie asked Lucas when the boy stopped by to give him some water. The sun was long in the sky, and Aphrodite had long left. “He was not here at all yesterday, yet he is the sheriff.” The kid frowned while handing Eddie the flask.

“Wren,” Lucas cleared his throat, “his wife, is pregnant. She isn’t due for a while but has been having trouble and sometimes needs help, I suppose.” The boy shrugged. He looked tired. “Steven doesn’t… he loves Wren, but I think the pregnancy is stressing him out. He keeps drinking the longer Wren’s been pregnant, and she hates it. She can’t stop him, though; he’s always here, and she’s always at home. She also can’t keep him from work considering they need the money. I mean, they have a nice set of land, but they also have a maid, and that can’t be cheap.”

“A maid, really?” Eddie was genuinely surprised and made it sound in his tone. Maids were not too rare in places like New York or bigger cities in wealthier families, but to have one in the Wild West would be as insane as not owning a horse. No one had that kind of money; no one had a maid. No one cared of hygiene, even, wiping surfaces with water dirtier than them. Against the many stereotypes, only the prostitutes stayed clean. Even then, it was only their nether regions that were often spotless—the only clean place on them.

Lucas shrugged, “She showed up at the same time Wren did. Steven came first, I suppose to build their home, and then Wren arrived sometime in October, I think.” The boy moved to sit on top of Steve’s desk instead of in the chair, “His kid is nice. He’s about three and named Flynn. We call him Dusty, though, because he’s always covered in dirt.” Lucas laughs fondly.

“When did Steven move here exactly?” Eddie asked, pausing beforehand to offer his own fond laugh, as if he knew the context of Lucas’s short description of the young son.

“Start of last year. No one liked him at first, but he’s really smart, and not many people in this town could read. At first, he was a schoolteacher, but our old sheriff got bit by a rattler, and we all voted him to be the replacement.” He looked over at one of the papers on Steve’s desk and picked it up. It was a wanted poster of one of Eddie’s colleagues, “He was always good with a gun too. Won bets in the saloon all the time, and he caught about three criminals with pretty high bounties within his first few months as sheriff and another bandit before he became sheriff. He slowed down when Wren came into town, but I guess that’s expected when your son and pregnant wife come back.”

Eddie listened as Lucas began talking about his own life. About his brother, Erik, and his mom, who was the town’s schoolteacher. He didn’t listen too hard, as much as he hates to admit. His mind was too caught on Steve’s story. On the maid who should’ve never been there and the wife who inspired Steve to drink just by existing. Eddie knew nothing yet thought everything, and he could only afford himself one question as Lucas was leaving to go do his deputy duties elsewhere. “Lucas,” Eddie grabbed one of the bars. The boy looked his way after stopping before the still shut door, “Steven’s wife: do you know when she got pregnant?”

“Almost right away, I reckon.” Lucas smiled in a bashful way, “She never went to the saloon once and started staying inside only two weeks into moving in.” Eddie thanked him for talking and for the water and let the boy leave. He imagined Lucas was somehow too innocent to fathom the idea, but a man rarely drank for no reason unless he was no good like Eddie’s father. Steve was the farthest thing from no good, even as a sheriff, and a cheating wife could drive even the best of men to drink. But Eddie couldn’t help but feel a nagging in his chest, like that wasn’t the full story. There was more. There had to be more.

He was trying to find all the possibilities—to discover something completely hidden, when the door burst open, and Steve stormed into the room. Eddie stood and scrambled to the bars just as Steve walked closer on the other side. They were inches away and separated only by steel and air, something lingered between them, but a kiss is not what Eddie would receive through the bars; he knew that. The only thing he received from Steve’s lips in that moment was a cruel sneer. His eyes turned crazed to match. “I’ve just gotten reports from the bounty commissioners.”

“Did they finally raise my bounty to something less insulting?” Eddie asked, imagining the many wanted posters with a measly “$8,000” offering. It was a lot of money—a shit ton of money—over a hundred thousand dollars by 1980s worth but come on! His bounty as a pirate was worth nearly a million!

“Better,” Steve’s sneer surprisingly softened, but his tone stayed cruel even as his smile turned kind, “you, Ed Merry, for all your crimes against humanity and the good people of the land, will hang by noon tomorrow.” Eddie’s smile dropped, and Steve’s grew with a sadistic satisfaction, “May God have mercy on your soul.”

God had nothing to do with it. Eddie was in deep shit, and he was the only immortal being to blame.

March 4^th, 1786

Eddie hummed an old shanty to himself, as he watched them build the platform for his execution through a faraway window. A small crowd was slowly building in the square. Steve watched the progress from atop his horse. Every once in a while, he’d send a glance Eddie’s way and would trace a finger across his neck with a sneer. Today, or tonight at the latest, Eddie would hang.

Aphrodite was still in town, shapeshifted into one of the people in the crowd. Come time for his execution, she would be his escape plane. Until then, he’d have to wait in his cell and decide how he could explain away his faked death. Playing dead on a rope, hanging for hours, and surviving was not something easy to explain without looking like a witch. If he wanted to get on Steve’s good side, he’d have to figure out how to explain it. He couldn’t make a run for it either, less he risk being shot on his way out and exposed or, worse, hunted down.

“You could escape.” Aphrodite pointed out as an alternative when he first revealed he was going to go through with the hanging. She had run to the sheriff’s office as soon as the building was empty. “I’ve seen you pick far more complicated locks than this one.” She eyed the lock of his cage, and he shook his head.

“If Steve needs to see me hang to dispel some of his anger, so be it. I need to get on his good side somehow. Besides,” he clenched his jaw, “if Steve thinks me to be strong, then maybe he’d be less inclined to save me.”

Aphrodite looked doubtful, but she didn’t disagree besides shaking her head, “Don’t fuck this up, Ed.”

“Trust me,” Eddie leaned back, “I’ll be dead soon, if I can help it.”

Eventually, Steve walked back into the jail. He wore a wide smile the entire time. “I’m surprised how many people are coming from out of town. Such an impressive crowd for such a pathetic man.” He commented, crossed his arms, and leaned against his desk. Eddie admired the muscles pressing into the cotton of his shirt. “I will say, though, your bounty will surely be the most impressive I’ve collected.”

Eddie clenched his jaw but forced a smile, “Oh, really?” he tilted his head, “And what do you plan on spending the money on? A better personality, perhaps?” he rested one bent elbow on the horizontal bars of his cell and rested his chin on his hand.

Steve ignored the jab and tilted his head in thought, “Some more land. Another horse. Maybe, I’ll buy some buildings in town and make a killing.” He smirked, “That, and I’d kill that gang of yours.” His eyes darkened with the excitement of blood. Eddie tried not to be visually disturbed by the sight.

Eddie snorted, “That’s about as impressive as killing a three-legged pig, but whatever makes you proud.”

“You truly think that low of your friends?”

“I don’t have friends,” Eddie corrected, straightening his elbow to poke both arms out of his cell instead of one, “They’re my colleagues, nothing more, nothing less.”

“God, you truly are pathetic.” Steve chuckled.

“I don’t see any friends around you.” He glanced side to side and frowned mockingly.

“I have a family; that’s enough.” Steve glanced out the window. They were almost finished with the platform.

“The blood spilt in battle is thicker than the water of the wound.” It wasn’t a direct quote but something Eddie thought of often, first heard from Theo then read in a book so many years ago. Steve looked at him. “My colleagues are nothing to me, but that woman I was with when we first fought is enough for me. I’ve been friends with her for most of my life. I never liked my family, and I’ve lost them all, but I’ll stick with her. That’s the difference between family and friends: family is an obligation, and friends are a choice. You think your wife and child would choose you?” Eddie tilted his head up in an act of defiance, “Would you even choose them?” Call it jealousy, call it anger—Eddie doesn’t know why he said that. He just couldn’t stand the thought of Steve loving someone else. A son, maybe, but not a wife. Not a wife who was likely cheating on Steve, not a wife that was pregnant with another man’s child or a wife that was the cause of Steve’s drinking. Never a wife at all. Not unless Eddie was the one in a white dress and wearing rouge. “You’re certainly cruel enough not to.”

“I should shoot you now.” Steve spoke, as he stormed up to the cell and grabbed the bars. Eddie luckily backed away before Steve could grab him instead.

“And why don’t you?” Eddie challenged and dared to step forward, “Is it because you like to be a spectacle? Is it because you like that forming crowd outside?” he pointed to the window and grabbed the bars just beneath Steve’s hands, “The great Stephen Henderson, the sheriff who caught the Dead Ed! You’ll be loved across the West, and that’s just it, isn’t it? You’d do anything to be loved, even if it means being the vitriol of the Earth. Anything to make up for the fact that, no matter what, no one will love the real you. Not when you keep hiding it.” Steve’s eyes widened, and it made Eddie scoff, “Yeah! I’m sure you thought I didn’t see it, didn’t you? You thought I didn’t see the mask you wear daily. That mold of plaster and porcelain like a doll’s face hiding whatever it is you’re so scared of people seeing. I’ve seen my share of masks, and yours is one of the worse. You hide from others but also hide from yourself, and you deny all the painful truths in your life. You think no one else sees it, but I do.” Eddie scoffs, “I see you fully. I see what you hide, no matter how hard you try. No matter how much you work towards keeping it all pushed down.” He swallowed, feeling more overwhelmed than Steve looked, “Well, that is fine. Let the people love this emotionless mask of yours, Stephen. Don’t go crying when you discover that fame doesn’t fill that hole in your heart.”

Steve shoved himself away from the bars like they burnt him. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.” he sneered.

“I don’t?” Eddie tilted his head, “Then why are your eyes watering?”

The sheriff’s jaw clenched, his fists flexed, and he shook his head. “You’re pathetic.”

“Maybe,” Eddie shrugged before leaning forward as far as the bars would allow, “but at least I don’t pretend to be someone I’m not. At least I’m not a coward when it comes to who I am. At least I know true, unconditional love. Not whatever you claim to feel from that family of yours.” Eddie tilted his head, “Tell me, darling, does your son know his sibling has a different daddy?”  

Steve gritted his teeth and stormed through the cell, pausing only a moment to unlock the door. Eddie gritted his teeth when Steve’s hand snapped across his jaw, “I am so happy to get to kill you today.” He snarled, “I pray the rope doesn’t snap your neck. I hope you choke. I hope I’ll get to watch your face turned red and your eyes bulge. You are a pathetic, annoying, putrid, salt of the—" As if summoned by Steve’s rage, Lucas burst through the office door. His eyes widened upon seeing the two men’s positions, and he quickly backed away. Steve shoved Eddie to the floor before leaving the cell. The door shut behind him just as he asked, “What the fuck do you want?!”

Lucas flinched, swallowed, and glanced to Eddie, “Uh,” he looked back at the sheriff, “the platform is finished.” He avoided Steve’s gaze, staring at the man’s chest instead of his twisted face. Eddie wished he could comfort the boy but was still trapped in Steve’s hold. He still sent a smile when Lucas looked his way.

“Fantastic, prepare the noose.” Steve ordered, voice calmer, eerily so, “We’re hanging him next clock strike.”

The boy looked as if he wanted to argue, looking between the two men while his mouth opened and closed like a decapitated fish. Instead, he nodded and left the room without another word. When the door shut, Steve turned back to the bandit, and his sneer had changed into an evil smile, “Time to die, Dead Ed.” He shoved Eddie back into the cell before storming off to assumably continue the preparation.

“Oh, how I wish that was true.” Eddie muttered louder than he meant to, and Steve looked his way.

There was a single moment where the evil smile weakened, but Steve merely scowled, shook his head, and left. Meanwhile. Eddie stayed in the cell wearing the expression he wore the moment Lucas walked into the room. Steve was many things, but he was never rude to children. Kids were a level of innocent that Steve never dared touch. Even Charlie from their crew, a relatively old child by 17^th century standards, was treated like a little kid back when Stephen was his siren. Steven looked at Lucas and let his anger for Eddie carry over. It broke Eddie’s heart. He didn’t bother hiding his heartbroken expression.

While Eddie was certainly far from being at his best, when he first met Steve, the pirate was in a good spot. His mask, while ever so present, was slipping. He’d spent so long playing the role of a cruel captain that he discovered just how draining it was. He did it to feel stronger. To hide his pain and protect himself from his past, but helping himself by hiding who he was is like attempting to fix a bullet hole with a prayer. He was cruel because he was scared, and making others scared would never fix him. Steve and he met when he was about to reach his limit, when the bullet wound was minutes from bleeding out and his prayers were doing nothing. Steve came into his life with gauze and medicine, and he saved Eddie before the man’s play of pretend could destroy him.

Steven Henderson reminded Eddie of a young Edmund Merther. One a few years into being a pirate, who killed anyone he could. The one who barked orders and never sang. The one who decided being a pirate was not meant to be fun but meant to be a job. Kill or be killed. Order or be under control. Bound or be chained. The entire world was black and white. Getting older and learning some lessons were splashes of red and blues, and Steve was the full technicolor Eddie needed. Now, Steve was the one in need of paint. Steve was the one who needed to learn, because that had to be it. Steve was scared; Eddie said so himself.

Eddie considered, for the first time in a while, that maybe he was going about this all wrong. He didn’t need to help Steve release his anger but understand it. He didn’t need to play this game of cat and mouse but help Steve. Be the mouse that helped the cat. Be the siren that helped the cruel pirate. Be patient. Be kind. Be what Eddie needed in the 17^th century, because Steve needed it now.

He needed to do more than to save Steve’s life; he needed to save Steve’s heart.

The handcuffs were cold against Eddie’s wrists, as an hour came and passed, leaving the church bells ringing and Steve yanking Eddie to his feet. “No clever words?” Steve teased into Eddie’s ear, as they walked towards the streets.

“I’m trying to figure out what to say to you once I get out of this,” Eddie spoke honestly. Again, he might have turned into a somewhat decent person at one point in time, but all that went away the moment Steve died. He went from a good person straight back into a murderous pirate, then a landlord, a revolutionary soldier who killed more British than the plague, then a bandit who killed just about every sheriff from here to the Pacific Ocean. How on Earth could he convince Steve all that changed in such a short amount of time? That he wasn’t cruel, not with Steve there.

It would be a one-way ticket right back to the noose.

“I can’t wait until you’re dead.” Steve replied, and Eddie tried to put himself in Steve’s shoes. If he were talking to someone about to walk the plank, he’d say the same thing. He’d probably say it out of frustration or desperation. He’d say it to a prisoner especially worrying to his crew and his position—someone powerful like Eddie was in Steve’s eyes. He’d say it because, at the end of the day, he was desperately trying to prove to the prisoner and everyone else, that nothing was affecting him. It was just another man he’d have to kill. Nothing more. Nothing less. He’d pretend he didn’t care when, deep down, he cared a lot.

Steve cared a lot. His voice shook even as he spoke through gritted teeth. He was scared of Eddie. So, Eddie didn’t bother hiding his pitiful look. He was under the assumption that, perhaps, Steve didn’t want to be cruel. Perhaps he was like Edmund Merther, and he was merely scared of himself or scared of the world. Perhaps, that cruelty was to hide fear. Perhaps, Eddie was just kidding himself. “Sweetheart, I’ve been dead for years.” The handcuffs were cold against his skin, as Steve yanked him out of the cell.

Eddie smiled at Lucas. The boy avoided his gaze after fearfully glancing at Steve. Fuck. Eddie wishes he could properly describe how he was feeling in that moment, but it was an emotion he hadn’t felt in a long time. Being immortal, mortality was something he never thought of anymore. Not in the context of himself. Now, even though he knew he would survive the rope, he felt a pain in his gut last felt a century ago. When he’d go up against the blade of an enemy. Now, his enemy was the love of his life, the blade was a rope, and there was no chance he would lose, yet he felt like he was walking towards the river of Styx. He wished he knew the source of this feeling. Why his heart twisted, and his throat became tight. It was fine; he would be fine! Nothing could harm him; why did it feel like he was about to die?

He didn’t realize he was hyperventilating until Steve’s hold moved from his cuffs to his shoulder. Eddie stopped in his tracks just as Steve pulled him aside. “I may hate you more than I hate rats, but I won’t humiliate you; unlike you, I have respect.” He reached into his pocket and grabbed a cloth, “I’m not going to hang you while you’re crying.   

“Crying?” Eddie tilted his head, but he felt the wetness on his cheeks, twice as fast as the quickening pace of his breath, “Oh, that crying.” It’d been a century since he had cried, but it wasn’t too large of a surprise. The fear was surprising, nothing but Steve’s own death scared him. Crying would never be a surprise when he was around Steve. Steve, no matter the lifetime, no matter the century, and no matter the difference in spelling and last name, would always be his home. His safety. The only person he ever willingly cried in front of, minus a few exceptions with Aphrodite, who was the closest thing to a home he had whenever Steve was gone. Otherwise, Steve was his cushion. His savior. His love. His everything.

Steve sighed and brought the cloth up. Eddie kept his expression neutral but flinched, as the sheriff wiped his cheeks. Eddie looked at Steve, at the concentrated line between the man’s brows and the way his eyes sparkled with care. Steve’s eyes darted, as he looked across Eddie’s tear-streaked face. And Eddie realized the mask was off. Steve was looking at Eddie in a way Eddie hadn’t been looked at in a century. He looked at Eddie like Eddie was a piece of art. Like he was worth something. Like he was worth caring for, and his cheeks were worth wiping clean of tears.

If Eddie weren’t so suddenly star struck, he would’ve cried all over again. Instead, he leaned into the caring hand and let Steve clean his face with a touch lighter than a feather. Eventually the sheriff pulled away, but they stayed in close proximity with Eddie itching to pick the locks of his handcuffs if only to cup Steve’s face and bring their lips together for the first time in a century. To feel the lips as featherlight as Steve’s hand. To feel the passion. To feel alive.

“You know,” Steve smirked and broke the silence between them, but the tension miraculously stayed, “if you are truly so nervous, I could shoot you now and claim you tried to escape. Save you the stage fright.” He shrugged, smile widening in a genuinely humorous way. No touch of cruelty despite the topic still surrounding Eddie’s execution and Steve’s murderous tendencies. He stayed close, mask still off.

“Not to worry, darling.” Eddie smiled and winked, “I am nothing if not an attention whore.” He raised his chin and relished in the way Steve laughed boisterously. His smile was as bright as Eddie remember, especially in this context. So genuine, so light and airy, like the weight on his hunched back was lifted. He straightened, turning his head to the ceiling, and clutching his stomach. Lucas finally snorted out his own laugh just as Eddie fixed his look of shock and awe of the beautiful man. The man who forever surprised him with just how beautiful he was.  

“Well, that would explain a lot—” Before Steve could finish, the clock in town chimed. The light of the high noon sun shined into the windows, and Steve looked behind him at the platform with the noose and the crowd of people waiting to watch a criminal hang. When he turned back, the mask had returned. Only the eyes were left. The eyes that showed disappointment. To Steve, himself or to the rest of the world, Eddie didn’t know where it was directed. “Come on.” He grabbed Eddie’s arm and forced him to walk forward. When they left the sheriff’s station, the crowd erupted.

Everyone turned and looked their way, admiring their sheriff and the most wanted bandit in the west. They cheered for their town’s protector and rooted for the inevitable hanging. Eddie, with a smirk, jumped to swipe his cuffed hands below his feet, to his front, so he could wave to the crowd. Steve gaped, stuttered, then ripped Eddie’s hands from the air to hold them down. He sneered into Eddie’s ear as he did so, “You’re a delusional fool if you think they’re cheering for you.”

“You have no sense of humor if you think I’m being serious.” Eddie shot back with a snort before waving some more. He laughed when he was yanked forward again. Eddie began making vulgar symbols to the many women in town, who scowled, gasped, clutched strings of imaginary pearls, or did all the above. Eddie mocked them before Steve smacked the back of his head.

“Hit me some more, I’m getting close.” Eddie winked, making Steve scowl. The bandit snorted, “So fickle in your emotions.” He muttered this to himself, “Even the moon doesn’t change this much.” The sun stared across the horizon like a giant bending down a table to stare at them through a watch glass. Buzzards flew above them, as if they could smell a dead man walking when Eddie would be far from their preferred meal. Eddie danced along the green mile coated with red dirt until he reached the platform, where a priest stood beside the noose. Eddie snorted.

“Thou shall not kill, right father?” he stepped beside the man and smiled.

“May God have mercy on you.” He responded, signing the cross over himself then over Eddie.

Eddie smiled maliciously, “I’d say I’ll have mercy on your mother, but I think she’s ruined beyond repair by now.” The man gasped, and Steve grabbed Eddie’s arm. It felt like a warning, but Eddie never thought of himself as a man with a pragmatic nature, “Mercy is a myth. God has been nothing but cruel. If there is a Heaven, though I can guarantee you there is not, I will turn around and walk myself back to hell. And I’ll kiss your mother on the way down.” The godly man’s hand struck with a sinful sound. Eddie turned his head with the force of the hit. His cheek began to burn.

“I pity the man you’ve become and mourn the life you could’ve gotten. Had you followed your God, perhaps you would not be here. Instead, you chose the path of sin, and I feel sorry for you.” Eddie paid mind in the way Steve snorted just as Eddie did the same.

“I pity you as well, old man. When you die and go to hell, I hope you remember me, father. I hope you remember how wrong you are. I hope to see you in the same flames I’ve lived in my entire life.” Steve shoved Eddie towards the noose before he had the chance to spit in the priest’s face like he wanted. The sheriff placed the loop over Eddie’s head, and Eddie made sure to smile the entire time. Even as the priest began to pray, he smiled, and he winked at Aphrodite in the crowd, who crossed her arms and blanched.

“Any last words?” Steve asked after, unfortunately, forcing Eddie’s hands behind his back once more, tightening the cuffs closer together so Eddie couldn’t leap over his arms again. That would make escaping more difficult, but at least Eddie got to see Steve that much closer. His eyes were shining in the golden light of the sun, and his skin looked bronze. Even looking at Eddie like one would look at a rotted animal and wearing a sneer, Steve looked gorgeous. Eyes just as starry as the night. Skin as soft as silk. And dotted moles like constellations.

“See you tomorrow.” Eddie winked. Steve rolled his eyes and grabbed the lever sticking out the wooden platform. Eddie spread his legs a shoulder width apart just as Steve responded.

“See you in hell.”

Before Eddie could respond, the lever was pulled. A small section of wood from beneath Eddie’s feet swung downwards. He fell until the rope pulled taut, and he hung a few feet off the ground. Hangings didn’t always lead towards neck breaking, but he was hoping this one would. Considering his neck wouldn’t have broken, the rope would’ve snapped instead, and he could’ve made a run for it. Instead, he was going through plan B, which consisted of waiting and faking. He struggled, if only to make everyone feel as guilty as possible. He put one of the most dramatic performances of his life, finding joy in disturbing the masses with his gagging and drooling. He wheezed and cried, hiding his laughter through fake coughs and choking pleads for God or his mother. The reactions came immediately; everyone looked utterly horrified. Though eventually, Eddie grew bored and stopped struggling, ready for the long haul in waiting and coming up with what to say to Steve.

Surely, the sheriff could believe Eddie just had a really strong neck, right?

Before he had a chance to think of a different excuse, there was a shout in the distance followed by the familiar whistle of a projectile slicing through the wind. One of Mato’s arrows struck through the rope keeping Eddie strung in the air. Eddie fell to the dirt, grunted, and cursed. He looked over at Aphrodite’s spot in the crowd, where she shrugged, looking just as bewildered as everyone else. Eddie looked through the gap in the platform to find Steve with his gun drawn. “Well, there goes plan B.” he turned his head and used his teeth to pull out the spare pin he kept in the collar of his shirt. He spit the needle to the ground then turned to blindly search the dirt until the end of the pin poked his thumb. He used it to pick the locks of his handcuffs, letting them fall to the dirt with a soft thud. He took a moment to stuff them in his pocket before crawling out from beneath the platform.

Utter chaos is the only way to describe the events around him. Mato, John, and Benjamin were stood in front of the town atop their horses. Eddie’s own horse was beside them, and Aphrodite was bolting toward hers and Mato’s at the town’s stables, turned invisible for her own protection. Eddie took a single step towards his crew when a bullet flew through his thigh and landed in the dirt in front of him, tainting the ground with drops of his blood. He grasped the limb and fell, shouting before scrambling to turn around. His hands pressed into the dirt to keep himself upright, and he saw Steve standing a few feet away holding a smoking gun. “Steven, you’re making a mistake,” Eddie warned with a single hand raised. His thigh was slowly healing, but he was still unable to stand.

“My only mistake was not killing you when I had the chance.” Steve cocked his revolver, but before he could pull the trigger, another arrow flew through the air. It struck Steve’s bicep, making the man shout, drop his gun, and fall to the ground. “No!” Eddie moved in spite of his sore leg and crawled to Steve’s side. The sheriff’s arm bled to the dirt, staining his shirt crimson and the yellow dirt brown. Eddie knew this sight all too well. He felt his heart hammering in his chest. Stop the bleeding. Stop the bleeding. Don’t let him die. Don’t let him die. He panted faster than a tired dog and felt his eyes tears up. He couldn’t cry; he couldn’t. He couldn’t let tears blur his vision or distract him. He had to focus; he had to save Steve. Steve couldn’t die; he couldn’t…

“It’s fine, love. You’re… y-you’re okay.” Eddie was not an idiot when it came to injuries. He knew a simple arrow to the arm would not kill Steve, but one look at Steve’s blood and all rational thought flew out the window.

Steve’s blood was so warm. Warmer than the burning sun and the heated dirt. Warmer than a fire. Too warm. Too hot. He’d get cold. He got cold last time; he got too cold. They needed a fire. He had to demand a fire all while Christine told him it was too late; he couldn’t be too late. He couldn’t.

“The blade went through, son.” Christine’s voice chimed in his head, and Eddie shook his head.

“Please, don’t… don’t die…” Eddie begged, and Steve’s expression was twisted in pain, but his eyes twinkled with great confusion and even greater curiosity. Likely wondering why a bandit would be pleading over him.

“What?” Steve grunted through gritted teeth, which he clenched to fight off the pain. Besides the strain, his voice was anything but weak. Anything but raspy from any extreme loss of blood. It was this which let Eddie return to reality, which allowed him to realize that this was not his siren. The arrow was not a blade, and Steve wasn’t going to die. The wound wasn’t bleeding; the trapped arrow kept the blood inside. Steve wasn’t even pale but just as sun kissed as before the injury. He was okay.

He was okay.

Eddie forced the lump in his throat away and removed his belt. Steve tried to crawl away, but Eddie pinned him beneath his good knee, and the sheriff was in too much pain to fight back. “Bite down, sweetheart.” When Steve refused to do so, Eddie grabbed his chin and forced his mouth open. He shoved the belt inside, where Steve had no other choice than to bite onto the leather. “I’m sorry in advance.” Eddie grabbed the end of the arrow and, while Steve’s eyes widened and he began to shake his head, yanked it out. The barbed end caught Steve’s skin and further tore his flesh. Warm blood splattered against Eddie’s face, and Steve muffled his shout with the belt in his maw.

Carefully, Eddie pulled the belt from Steve’s mouth just to loop it around the man’s upper arm before the blood got out of control. He tightened the accessory until it stopped the bleeding. “You need stitches. Wet it with a spirit to get rid of any dirt and use aloe if you can find any.” Eddie spoke like Christine normally did when aiding someone with an ailment, only he was far more frantic and fearful. He was still recovering from the flashbacks to Stephen—to Francine killing his siren.

“You need a bullet in your brain.” Eddie pressed harshly against Steve’s wound through the leather.

“You need to stop insulting me for more than five seconds and let me fucking help you!” He snapped. Steve didn’t have an opportunity to respond, as Shadowmere and another horse suddenly galloped to Eddie’s side.

“Hop on!” Benjamin shouted. His gun was in hand but pointed away from Eddie and Steve. Eddie had no choice. It was too dangerous to stay here, as everyone and their mothers ran to grab weapons of their own. He grabbed his horse’s saddle and hoisted himself atop the animal. He turned to Steve just as the barrel of a gun reached his peripheral. He turned and grabbed Benjamin’s arm, making the man shoot the dirt instead of his initial aim at Steve’s head. “Don’t!” Eddie shouted at the same time. His partner stared at him with wide eyes. “It’s not worth it; let’s get out of here.” Eddie tried to deflect. Ben looked like he wanted to argue but shook his head, turning his horse towards the other end of town, where John was shooting any man with a gun. He turned to his next target, and Eddie ran forward as fast as Shadowmere could take him.

“Don’t shoot him!” Eddie put himself in front of John’s gun before the man could shoot a small lad holding what Eddie could only assume was his father’s gun. The kid was shaking like a leaf. Eddie raised his hands.

“Move, Ed.” John ordered.

Eddie squinted, “Last time I checked, you’re in no position to order me around. That’s a child. Even if it wasn’t, they’re just defending themselves. Now, shove off before I shoot you.” John scowled but begrudgingly ran toward the exit, where Aphrodite and Mato were waiting. They left only after Benjamin reached the group along with John and Eddie. Eddie spared a moment before following and glanced back. He looked to where Steve seemed shocked silent. He stared at Eddie from where he laid upon the ground, one hand clutching his wound and the other working as his support. They stared at one another, and Eddie knew any masks on either of them were completely gone. Steve was showing his true self, and it was a wonderful sight.

For a maskless second, Eddie saw Stephen Howards. He saw his siren: confused and interested all the same, always asking questions and forever curious. Why would Ed spare him? Steve was panting and sweaty, but he stared as if Eddie and him were the only people in the world. Eddie reached up to where his hat should’ve been had it not been lost, and he tilted his head before dropping his hand to wave instead. Maybe, Steve would wave back. Maybe, Steve was seeing the good in Eddie once again.

The mask returned, and Steve spit in his direction instead.

Eddie bit his lip and turned his horse back towards his colleagues. He followed his crew towards the horizon. Even as his heart stung from the disappointment of Steve’s reaction, he knew Aphrodite was right. Cruel or not, that was still the Steve he’d fallen in love with so long ago, and he promised himself he’d ditch the crew as soon as he got the chance. He just needed to figure out a new plan.

He needed to save Steve.

Chapter Text

March 6^th, 1786

“Never trust a fox. Looks like a dog, behaves like a cat.” – Erin Hunter

“You’re an idiot.” Aphrodite whispered over the fire, where they were cooking rabbit in the flames. Eddie had just finished telling her about his master plan for when he returned to Fool’s Gold. “You think a simple note is going to fix anything? What? You meet for a little picnic, flirt for a few hours, and Steve will suddenly trust you?”

“I don’t expect instant trust; I need to talk to him. Steven is still my soulmate; he can’t fight me off forever.” Aphrodite rolled her eyes.

“Idiot,” She muttered.

The crew had not strayed as far as Eddie’s associates would’ve liked, he’s sure. His initial suggested while leading them away was for them to “lie low until our bounties lower”. This, of course, would never happen—not for many years, but his colleagues didn’t know that. They also didn’t know the “shortcut” Eddie suggested to get to Mexico was nothing more than a deformed circle. Only Mato seemed to notice, but he luckily didn’t comment outside of complaining a bit to Aphrodite, and he never spoke to her in English. The rest of the crew, meanwhile, were stupid enough to not notice they had barely left a hundred-mile radius outside of Fool’s Gold.

Very soon, Eddie would leave them in the night, but he had to get them off his back. It wouldn’t be the first time he left; he often preferred to be alone. They wouldn’t care if he “rode ahead”, but they’d surely come to his “rescue” if they knew he was going back to Fool’s Gold.

Aphrodite, despite her many insults, helped him pack as soon as the others went to sleep. She didn’t actually care about him going back. The sooner Eddie got on Steve’s good side, the easier it would be to save the man’s life and to get her immortality back. Well, after a century she’d get it back, but the woman was nothing if not patient (no matter how begrudgingly it was). She was just worried, and she loved insulting Eddie to voice such feelings.

The woman’s real issue, furthermore, was that she’d be stuck with the crew as soon as he left, as Eddie’s fib of riding ahead would require him to leave a note that only the goddess would be able to read.  

“I’ll meet you again in a couple days. If things don’t work out, pray to me; I’ll hear it. Try not to get arrested or attacked in the meantime.” She paused, “And you may have survived once without exposing yourself, but you got lucky. Survive any more injuries, and Steven will surely be suspicious.” She added the warning before handing him his spare gun and remaining knives. His other weapons, including his precious sword, would have to stay with Aphrodite, so these would have to do.

“The worst-case scenario is Steven going for a headshot and finding out my chest isn’t the only bullet proof body part.” Eddie pointed out, grabbing his spare hat. He worked on getting all his bags attached to Shadowmere’s saddle, which was easy considering he only brought the necessities.

Well, Aphrodite would likely say his three books, his journal, and his lute were not necessities, but he would have to deeply disagree.

“I’d argue the worse-case scenario is him thinking you’re a witch.” Aphrodite raised a brow, as Eddie rolled his eyes. Granted, she wasn’t wrong. The Salem Witch Trials were less than a century ago, and people were still deeply paranoid when it came to the idea of magic and things of the sort. Eddie also ridiculed the town’s priest, so his religious beliefs were already displayed in a very bad light.

“Very funny.” Eddie blanched before furrowing his brows, “Would being burned alive hurt?”

“It’s only lethal up to a certain point. Assuming your healing powers don’t prevent the first and second degree burns up to the point of lethality, yes, it would probably hurt.” She patted his arm with a thin smile, “Better pray you get drowned or hanged instead.” Edie glanced to the still burning fire in their campsite not too far away and swallowed. “I’ll come with a bucket of water if it comes down to it,” Aphrodite promised before tightening the last strap of Eddie’s saddle, “Don’t get killed before I get there.”

“Three weeks left, Dee.” Eddie’s tone was bittersweet, but he smiled all the same, “Hell awaits my arrival.”

“If it exists, I think Valhalla seems more appropriate for you.” Aphrodite smiled to herself, as she watched Eddie get atop of his horse.

“Valhalla?” Eddie asked, not recognizing the world.

“You’ll find out.” She stepped away, signaling Eddie to be on his way.

March 7^th, 1786

Eddie arrived at Fool’s Gold just as the moon was past its normal peak in the sky. Shadowmere was normally much quicker, but he ended up going the last few miles on foot. He had to be discreet, and leaving his horse at a farm just outside of town (paying the owner’s wife of said farm to watch her) was unfortunately the best way to do it.

He waited a mile outside of town until the last light, minus the lights shining from the perpetually awake saloon, turned off. He used the blanket of darkness to traverse the dirt until he reached the end of the dark town, which only had one or two lanterns and the bright moon for light. The saloon, despite being open, was in desperate need of repair from their brawl and the arson Eddie may or may not have caused. But, when it came to bars and saloons, as long as the walls were standing and the glasses were full, nothing could shut them down.

The bandit peaked in through the saloon’s windows from afar but didn’t see Steve. He next checked the jail in town and, again, found nothing. “Must be home.” Eddie tried not to sound disappointed even with no witnesses around to hear him. It was good that Steve wasn’t there; it made his job easier. All Eddie had to do was drop off his note and hide until it was time for Steve and him to meet. He crawled inside the room and pressed his back against the side wall. He reached into his pocket and unfolded the note just to quickly stuff it back inside, as he heard approaching footsteps. He looked around, trying to figure out the best means of escape just to leap through the window he had just used to sneak inside. Most places back then didn’t have windows with actual glass, as it was expensive; Eddie was lucky Steve was a part of that majority.

He landed in the dirt and rolled away from beneath the ledge. He hopped a fence then stayed just around the corner, eventually crawling to a different window to peer inside, taking a moment to remove his hat. Steve entered his office with a woman following close behind. She had short brown hair, freckles, blue eyes, and a very large, round belly. Eddie felt his breath hitch.

“You shouldn’t be here!” Steve smelled like whiskey even from where Eddie sat, and the bandit wondered where Steve drank if it wasn’t at the saloon. “What if someone sees you?!” the man’s words were slurred, and he could barely stand up straight.

“And you shouldn’t either, Steven! You’re injured, you need rest, and you definitely shouldn’t be drinking. You promised me you would quit!” She crossed her arms and leaned against Steve’s desk, her stomach protruding outwards. Eddie didn’t know much about pregnancy, but there was no way in hell she was only five months pregnant, not unless she was giving birth to twins. No, Eddie’s theory was gaining evidence; there was no way that child was Steve’s. Eddie couldn’t help the rage that boiled within him, similar to the rage that raised towards anyone who hurt Steve.  

“I never claimed to quit, Wren, and you should be at home!” Steve removed his hat to hang on one of the hooks attached to the wall. “As far as everyone is concerned, you’re still pregnant, and we can’t afford the scandal if they found out the truth. Just because some of them can’t read doesn’t mean they’re idiots; they’ll figure out that child isn’t mine, and I’ll lose this job.” He shook his head, “We need this job, Wren.”

“I’m being careful; no one saw me.”

“You’re still pregnant; women in your state shouldn’t be out and about.” Eddie rolled his eyes and almost missed it when Wren did the same.

“You don’t need to tell me what I should and shouldn’t do, Steven. I was fine with Oliver; I’ll be fine with this one.” Eddie’s eyes widened. It was rare for a woman to be so assertive like Wren was. “Besides, I’m not doing this for you. Oliver was for you, risking my life was for you; I only came here because I knew the second, I realized I was pregnant that Victoria and I couldn’t be alone. We needed a provider, and you agreed. You agreed just as you agreed to do so for Oliver’s sake—for your son’s sake. So, for my sake, I’m telling you to get your shit together. As much as I want you to, and as much as I know we’d need your help, I am not afraid to leave without you. Victoria and I want you in our lives as our friend and as Oliver’s father, but I will not stand by letting you waste our time when, at any moment, our parents could find us.” She huffed, “I won’t let Victoria go through that. I won’t let Oliver go through that, and I won’t have this child ever be exposed to the fucked-up world you and I were born into.”

“Wren—”

“It’s bad enough this child will have part of its father’s face. The same man who hurt you. The same man who nearly killed you!”

Steve’s eyes widened, and he glanced to the window just as Eddie ducked down. “Lower your voice!” Eddie raised up once more just as Steve grabbed Wren’s arms, “Yes, that is what we agreed upon. Leaving as soon as possible, it’s necessary, but it’s necessary for everyone. We’re all getting out of here, remember?!” His rage boiled up then down, as if someone had stripped a pot of water of any heat. There was a crack in his throat, and he showed something pained and sad—terrified. Eddie had yet to see such a raw display of emotion in this lifetime. “You can’t leave me. Please, you can’t…” Steve shook his head, and Wren’s own stern expression cooled. A hand cupped his cheek, and Eddie had a terrifying thought that they were about to kiss.

“I would never leave you here, Steven. Never. We all want what is best for each other. It’s just…” she didn’t kiss Steve but moved away from him and the desk. “You don’t seem to want to leave. Victoria and I have been packing our things and preparing the home for weeks.” She ducked to catch Steve’s wandering eyes, “I’m due soon, Steven. I am having this baby; I can’t risk their life. I can’t wait around for you to catch up. I love you, but I won’t wait for you. If it comes down to you or the child; I won’t hesitate. I can’t risk it.”

“Wren—”

“A baby needs time, Steven.” Her voice turned stern once more, “I can’t expose them to the world so soon after birth, but we can’t sit here and wait for our families to find us. They’re close; we know they’re close. You’re fame as the bounty hunter didn’t disappear when you became sheriff; your father will find out where we are. He won’t hesitate to kill you and drag me back.” It was her turn to show pain and fear, “I can’t go back. We can’t go back, so you need to either work with us or prepare to lose us.”

“It’s the last time, Wren. I promise.” Wren scoffed and rolled her eyes, “We need more money! Why do you think I’ve been targeting criminals with high bounties?!” He waved a hand at the various WANTED posters pinned to his wall. Eddie tried not to feel too offended when his was the only one pinned with a knife instead of a nail. “I’m doing all of this for us, Wren. Everything I do is for us.”

“No, no,” Wren shook her head, “No, everything you do is for you and your obsession.” Steve flinched even if Wren’s voice stayed level. She grabbed his hands, “We have plenty of money saved up, and you aren’t going to do us any good by delaying our flight. This obsession with bounties and criminals is going to destroy us. I can’t wait around for that to happen, and I refuse to allow you to kill yourself over your obsession in the meantime.”

“I’m not obsessed.”

“Tell that to Ed Merry.” Eddie’s breath hitched at the same time Steve’s did. What?

“I—”

“Tell that to the WANTED posters collected in your bedroom and the writings in your journals. You’ve been obsessed with that man since you first discovered him, and I won’t let you destroy our family. I don’t care how high his bounty is. I don’t care how much fame it will give you.”

“That’s not—”

“No?” Wren laughed cruelly, “If not for the fame, then what? Is it to be accepted? Is it to make someone proud? Is it to be able to sleep at night knowing you are loved?” Eddie felt his hands begin to shake. “Well, I love you. Oliver loves you. Victoria loves you. Is that not enough? Why won’t you let us be enough for you?”

“Wren, I…” Steve swallowed audibly, “I love you. I love you. I love Oliver. I love Victoria. I just…” he licked his lips, and Eddie could practically feel the weight of the words trapped in the man’s mind. There was something banging so loudly against Steve’s ribcage that it sent vibrations through the air. Please, please, let it out. It will kill you if you don’t, Steven. “I want us to be comfortable.” His voice cracked, and Eddie slouched in dimmed disappointment. “I can’t let us struggle again. I want us to live, not just survive.”

Wren was frowning. It was a frown that Eddie knew matched his own. Something sad and disappointed, as if she too could hear the banging behind Steve’s bones from his pained heart. “We won’t struggle if you’re there for us. And we don’t need money to live either. I would’ve thought that, after what your parents put us through, you would understand that money doesn’t equate life. A large house is nothing without love; don’t let the loveless place you grew up in continue to strip us of our survival. I want to live, Steven, but if you don’t live with us, we won’t survive.” Steve looked at the cabinet Eddie knew hid his liquor, and Wren turned his head back to face her, “Stop obsessing over men who can kill you. Stop trying to fix what your past has broken with blood and gunpowder. Start living for us, if you can’t live for yourself.”

“I am living for myself.”

“Then start acting like it.” Wren glanced to her right before approaching the WANTED posters. She grabbed Eddie’s and ripped it from the wall. Steve flinched when she did so and stumbled when she shoved the page against his chest. “Stop acting like everything you do is a sin. Stop treating yourself like you are some kind of cursed child. Stop drinking every night. Stop hating what you see in the mirror. Start acting like the hero I know you are.” Steve shook his head.

“I left you; I’m no hero.”

“Stop talking badly about my best friend,” Wren snapped, “You are an amazing person, Steven. I’ve gone through shit just as you have, and it’s because of you that I left that dark place both literally and figuratively. Now, why can’t you help me do the same? What happened since we got separated that made you who you are?”

Steve’s jaw clenched, “Nothing happened.” He spoke in an eerily calm voice. One that Eddie didn’t buy and, by the looks of it, neither did Wren, but she didn’t comment. Instead, she sighed.

“I just wish you could see what I see, Steven. Because, through my eyes, you are a damn good man.” Steve looked away, “I’ll be patient. God knows we don’t have the privilege for patience, but I will grant you the gift of time. Just stop obsessing over this.” She pointed at Eddie’s wanted poster clenched in one of Steve’s hands. “You caught him once; that should satisfy something, right?”

Steve shook his head, “No,” he held the poster to his chest, “Not until he’s dead.” He clutched the paper in the same way a babe would clutch a blanket. Wren frowned before her brows subtly shot up.

“Well,” she forced back a smile, “when you find and ‘kill’ him, do bring him by. I’m sure Victoria would love to have him over for tea.” Steve frowned deeply, as his eyes widened. Wren let her smile freely spread across her face, and Eddie hated to admit it, but she had a lovely smile.

“I don’t…” Steve tilted his head.

“Oh, hush now, Bubble. You know what I mean.” She said with a wink. It took Eddie a long time to figure out why Wren would call Steve ‘Bubble’, but he later realized after chatting with more folk who were actual functioning members of society and not, well, criminals that it was slang. It came from the full phase, Hubble-bubble, which was a word to describe confused man. A dumb man. A dingus.

“Will there ever be a day you won’t behave strangely?” Steve asked and rolled his eyes when Wren procured a flask of water.

“No, and sober up and come home before Victoria serves your head for breakfast.” She grabbed Steve’s arm, making him spill some water down his shirt. Steve laughed in a way Eddie hadn’t heard in a century.

“What, no kiss?” Steve asked, a teasing lilt to his tone. Eddie’s nostalgic smile turned into a cringe. He prepared to watch the love of his life kiss someone else, but Wren merely feigned a gag. “Fuck off!” she spoke, making Steve laugh.

“Love you too, bird brain.”

“I hate you!” Wren whisper shouted, smiling just as brightly. They were married, yet they behaved like friends—a fact that didn’t go unnoticed by Eddie. If anything, it made him that much more interested in learning about this Steven and how his love has changed from his last life. Plus, if Eddie was going to get on Steve’s good side, he should probably learn a bit more about Steve’s wife as to not go into a rage when hopefully meeting her.

Eddie glanced over to see Steve help Wren up on her horse before looking back inside his office. He squinted before his eyes widened, and Eddie tensed up assuming Steve had somehow spotted him. He was about to run or explain himself when Steve merely grabbed his hat and left out the front door. Eddie sighed in relief and ducked down to press himself against the outside wall once more.

The bandit was catching his breath when he felt a large puff of poor smelling air hit his face. He groaned and opened his eyes just to jump. He recognized Steve’s horse from earlier, when the sheriff rode her while overseeing the execution preparation. Her neck was bent so she stood face to face with Eddie. She huffed in his face again, and Eddie smiled. “Don’t tell Steve I’m here.” He whispered with his hands put together in front of his chest. The creature shook her head, and Eddie sighed. “Please?” she huffed once more. “Gods, fine, here!” he reached into his pocket and pulled out some bread. (It’s not like he needed it.) The animal huffed and grabbed the snack from Eddie’s outstretched palm. Crumbs fell from her lips, as Eddie reached up to gently scratch below her chin. The horse leaned forward and rubbed her nose against Eddie’s cheek before a sharp whistle cut through the air.

“Lydia!” Steve called. Eddie’s heart stopped for a moment. Steve’s horse was named Lydia, just like the Iron Maiden, and just like Eddie’s mother. It was a coincidence, Eddie knew, but it still made his belly warm all the same. She was as beautiful as his ship too. A painted horse with a mane almost as beautiful as Steve’s own head of hair. Her eyes were deep brown, and her coat tan and white. Eddie closed his eyes when the horse looked his way and snorted, almost like she was laughing his way.

The horse stood straight and turned toward the main road. She stopped and glanced to Eddie one more time before leaping over the fence separating her from the rest of the desert. Eddie watched in awe and questioned why the horse was so kind to him and how it was so well behaved. That question would have to wait, though. Eddie had a job to do.

He leapt back inside through the window and grabbed his note and dagger. He walked to the post in the room and pushed the parchment against the wood and stabbed his dagger through the top. He was originally going to leave it on Steve’s desk, but Eddie wanted to grab the man’s attention and, well, he may be able to read, but Eddie still wasn’t good at social cues.

Eddie took his time to grab the weapons Steve had confiscated and attached them back to his belt. He also grabbed some extra parchment, and the papers Steve had written about him for his “files”. Okay, maybe his fellow bandits were right about him being a slight hoarder, but he was sentimental! Besides, it’d be hilarious to give this to Steve once he remembered what Eddie was supposed to mean to him.

Eddie didn’t bother with the front door and climbed over the windowsill once more. He glanced to the note and sighed. It was simple but descriptive all the same:

Dear Steven,

Meet me at the lake due North of Fool’s Gold tomorrow night. I don’t want to fight nor argue nor kill you. I think it best we simply talk like the men we are. Sorry Mato shot you; I didn’t plan for that kind of an escape.

Yours,

Ed

P.S. Please bring my belt. I’ll trade your handcuffs for it.

“See you tomorrow night, Steven.”

March 8^th, 1786

Eddie rubbed his hands in front of the large fire he had just created. He leaned against the side of a boulder, near where Shadowmere was lassoed to a dead tree. (“You know, Steven’s horse stayed in her pen despite being able to escape, yet I have to lasso you.” … “Fine, give me the silent treatment, then.”)

His horse drank from the water as Eddie spoke to the quiet air. “Gods, where could he be?” Eddie looked in the direction of the town then down at the flames. Shadowmere nickered. “I’m not inpatient. Sundown was forever ago; he should be here!” Eddie spit the tobacco from his mouth and chewed a bit more.

Before the bandit had a chance to complain once more, a shape just barely illuminated by the pale moonlight appeared at the edge of the horizon. Steve rode to the lake’s edge. His hat was, much to Eddie’s joy, nowhere to be found, leaving his gorgeous hair to shine under the stars. Upon his shoulders rested a poncho. The man looked perfect as always.

“Ed,” Steve greeted, stopping a few feet from Eddie, Shadowmere, and the fire.

“Steven…” Eddie tilted his head, smiled, and wiggled his fingers, “Lydia.” The horse whined in response.

“She doesn’t like strangers.” Steve pulled on her reigns when she tried to approach Eddie.

Eddie failed to hide a smile. “I’m no stranger to her.” Eddie pushed off the boulder and made a few steps toward Steve.

“Hey, woah…” Steve unholstered his gun and raised it to the bandit. Eddie bit his tongue and raised his hands. “Seriously?” he asked, not hiding his exasperated tone.

“Yes, seriously, you stay right where you are.” Steve pulled back the hammer.

“I told you; I just want to talk!” Eddie felt like an idiot with his arms raised, but Stephen looked genuinely ready to pull the trigger. It’s crazy what a couple of letter changes and a century can do to a person’s soul. Though, perhaps Eddie was the one who changed, and Steve had to overcompensate to keep up. Eddie spent the last century being cruel and regressed to his past the instant he saw Steve. Stephen was kind when Eddie was cruel, so it only made sense for Eddie to be the cause of Steve’s sudden malevolence. It was Eddie’s turn to be kind and, hopefully, help Steve be better. He was probably just overthinking things again.

“Please, I know your tricks, Ed.” Steve spat.

“It’s not a trick! If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve stabbed you with that arrow instead of aiding your wound.” Eddie tilted his head, “I know you think of me as nothing but a criminal and a murderer, but surely you don’t find me idiotic enough to not kill you when I had the chance.”

Steve’s nostrils flared. “So, you have no weapons? You truly are harmless?”

Eddie straightened one arm to point to the ground a few feet away from him, where his two guns, sword, and handful of knives laid. “Just those.” Steve opened his mouth to say something else, but Eddie predicted his mistrust and reached down. He untucked his shirt, thankful he had taken off his vest, and lifted the material up to his chin. Steve’s gaze drew downward, and Eddie tried to ignore the way Steve swallowed upon seeing the exposed flesh. “And no hidden holsters.” He lowered his shirt. “Now, will you talk with me instead of holding a gun to my head?”

Steve sighed and reset the hammer on his revolver. He tucked the weapon into his holster before jumping off of Lydia. “The gun was not held to your head.” Steve pointed out while he led Lydia to a different dead tree. Eddie looked to Shadowmere when Steve trusted his horse to remain still. “I was simply pointing it at your head. Metal did not touch you.” Steve talked like a spoiled child, as he worked to grab something from one of his bags.

Eddie pretended not to notice Steve sneakily take a drink from a flask, as he scowled instead, “Seriously, are you so petty to correct something as small as that?”

Steve stopped his motions and looked at Eddie. His head cocked to the side, “What?” he had the nerve to act nonchalant, “I don’t find you idiotic, but I still find you moronic.” He smiled, “And morons need to be corrected.”

Eddie scoffed and crossed his arms, “And here I thought you were going to be nice in this chat of ours.”

Steve set the saddle carefully on the ground, “That was your flawed prediction.” He stood on the other side of the fire across from Eddie. “Did you forget I want you dead?”

Eddie walked toward Lydia, rolling his eyes when Steve moved the opposite direction to keep the distance between themselves. “Trust me, sweetheart, you’re all I’ve been thinking about.” Eddie smiled when Lydia gently huffed. He petted the horse’s neck and beneath her chin. She rubbed her nose on his cheek as thanks.

Steve’s mouth was downturned. “She usually hates other people.” He commented, “Hell, she doesn’t even let my wife atop her.”

Eddie smiled, “I’m good with animals.” He looked over to Steve and stepped away from Lydia, “What’s your wife’s name?” Eddie wrote about Wren in his journal, fit with Steve’s son’s name and the family’s plan to leave town as soon as possible. That, and whoever Victoria was. He assumed their maid.

Steve’s immediate expression is a twisted, angry face. “Wren, and if you touch her, I’ll kill—”

“I don’t want to hurt your wife, Stevie.” Eddie held his hands behind his back and walked back and forth in a small line of dirt. “And you really need a better threat than killing me.”

“Don’t call me Stevie.”

“Okay, daddy.” Eddie laughed at Steve’s scowl.

“God, shut up!” Steve stomped the ground and waved his hands with the single command. Eddie stopped walking and glanced to Shadowmere, who snickered with Lydia. Steve scoffed, “How can you even turn my own horse against me?” Steve walked around the fire, shoved Eddie out of his way, and petted his horse’s neck.

“I told you;” Eddie took a few steps back before sitting at the edge of the fire, “I’m good with animals.” He leaned against a rock and kicked his legs out in front of him. “Your wife has a pretty name.”

“She chose it.” Steve said offhandedly. He sat on the ground but stayed in an alert posture, “She used to birdwatch.” He removed his holster belt but kept his gun at his side. Eddie rolled his head back and sighed. “Am I correct in assuming no one would ever willingly want to touch your hideousness?” The sheriff snorted, “Can you only get off on sins and blood, or do you actually have a wife?”

Eddie lifted his head back up to look at Steve. The bandit couldn’t tell if the orange flames were to blame for the hue of Steve’s cheeks, but he appreciated the color in any case. “I had a husband.” Eddie answered, “I like sheriffs too.” He winked at Steve, but the sheriff didn’t notice.

Steve had looked away from Eddie just after asking the question, but his head snapped to the side. “A husband?!”

“Yes, a husband.” Eddie crossed his arms defensively, “I pray you don’t find that so disgusting, considering your tendency to charm little ol’ me.” Eddie pressed a hand to his chest, “I’m definitely not the only one flirting here, darling.” Eddie was joking, but he became pleasantly surprised by the way Steve’s expression twisted, as his cheeks burned.

“While I both find that disgusting and have no idea what you’re talking about,” Eddie rolled his eyes, “I’m more… intrigued.” Steve seemed hesitant to admit, “I’ve never heard of a place that allowed such a thing as two men getting wed.” He copied Eddie’s relaxed posture. “You also seem too young to have gotten married and become the West’s most wanted outlaw in a few years.”

Eddie held back a scoff. Even if Eddie wasn’t older than most people by at least half a century, he was still physically 20 and, thus, older than Steve, who was still 19. Though, anyone would assume Eddie was younger. He had a beard but a distinct baby face. The curse made it, so he never aged, got sick, wrinkled, or burnt from the sun. “Says the man who has a child and another on the way,” He shot back, “and you’re younger than me.”

“I’m 19 years old; that’s plenty old to have a child.” Steve argued. These were different times, keep in mind. “Our youngest, Oliver, is only three. My wife is 18; she’s plenty old as well.”

“Well, I’m twenty…” he hesitated, “five, and I, for one, prefer not to grow old so quickly. Family… it’s an overrated concept, and children do nothing but force responsibility on someone.” Eddie had long ignored the fact that just a century ago he’d been ready to live a good, long, and lovely life with Stephen, fit with kids rescued by the sea and the Iron Maiden. Times change, as did emotions.

“You’d believe that being a sinful sodomite.” Eddie rolled his eyes, “Did your husband properly repent and leave you? I pray marrying you wasn’t too traumatizing for him.”

Eddie exhaled sharply and shook his head. He uncrossed his arms and placed them behind his head, “He died.” Eddie watched Steve’s reaction. “And, to explain your prior intrigue, we weren’t lawfully or officially married. We were vowed to each other because we loved each other. No wedding was needed; that was true commitment—a stronger commitment, to us.”

Steve clenched his jaw and looked to the fire, “Well, you’ll see him again in hell.” Eddie shot up and scoffed when Steve flinched.

“Gods, are you truly so cruel and hateful to me that you can’t show an ounce of sympathy?” Eddie snarled, “I’ve invited you to talk, so we will talk. If you wish to continue to berate, insult, and threaten me, then stop acting like you actually care at all for this conversation and shoot me like you’ve been wanting to.” The irony of the bandit arguing with the resurrection of his husband wasn’t lost on Eddie.  “I love him more than the moon loves the stars. I have taken your abuse and treated you with respect; stop treating me like shit and talk like a civil man.”

Steve sat up just as fast. His expression was a mirrored snarl of Eddie’s, “Please, like he ever loved you.” He spat, “No man could ever love a man, not truly. If you think for one second that your husband really loved you, then you are nothing but a naïve child. To marry someone, for a man, is to settle and start a family. You married that man for perverted reasons. You married that man to continue your sodomite lifestyle and dared call the disease love. You… you…” Steve’s throat became thick with unshed tears. He choked on his words. Eddie relaxed and watched Steve with worried eyes. “Men are not made for that.”

Eddie had to sit on his hands to stop from reaching for the man just a few feet away. “Marriage is not a settlement.” He picked from all the things he could’ve said. “It’s to love and be loved for as long as the fates will let you.” Eddie pulled one hand from beneath him and lifted his shirt’s sleeve. He had begun wearing it again after seeing Steve his first night at Fool’s Gold. The shell was sun-bleached, eroded, and slowly chipping away, but he kept it. “The fates just happened to make me love him forever.”

“Even if he died?”

Eddie looked away from the bracelet and back to Steve, “Love, like energy, is infinite. It would take a lot more than death to end my love for him.” Eddie blinked at his sudden tears, and it was just after he wiped them away that he noticed Steve had done the same for his own. Eddie didn’t comment on that. Instead, he bent one knee to rest his elbow upon it. “I know you think me miserable, pathetic, and moronic, but I do know what love is.”

Steve clenched his jaw, “Yes, well, that just proves you are more moronic than I believed.” Eddie furrowed his brows. The sheriff interrupted him before Eddie had the chance to respond. “Besides losing a man you falsely think you loved,” Eddie scowled, “are you alone?”

“You know I’m not.” Eddie responded, “I have my colleagues and Dee.”

“Dee?”

“My friend.” Eddie waved his hand, “That woman I was with in the saloon. The pretty one with the long, black hair.” He motioned to his own hair for reference, even if it was much shorter than it used to be. “Otherwise, my gang is no more than my coworkers. I usually act alone, but Dee insisted I let them tag along a couple years back.”

“And they listen to you despite being double your age?”

Eddie shrugged, “Your town listens to you despite you being the youngest sheriff I’ve ever seen.” He smiled at Steve’s huff of air. He reached into his bag, “Relax,” he drawled when Steve immediately reached for his gun. Eddie pulled out a flask, “it’s just refreshments.” He opened the lid and took a long drink of rum. He didn’t drink it as often as he used to, but it was still his favorite poison. “Want some?”

Steve raised a brow and glanced at Eddie’s flask. “Is this really what you brought me out here for?” he asked, “To ask about my family and offer me a drink?”

Eddie shrugged and took another swig, “Well, I also wanted my belt back.” He snickered when Steve rolled his eyes and reached behind him. He grabbed Eddie’s belt from Lydia’s saddlebag and tossed it the bandit’s way. “Much obliged.” Eddie bowed and wrapped it around his waist. He fixed the buckle while looking at Steve, “And no, that’s not the only reason I brought you out here.”

Steve tilted his head, “So it is to kill me?” he assumed out loud.

“Again, if I wanted to do that, you’d be six feet under by now.” Eddie brings another knee up to rest both arms atop his legs. “And no, that’s not it.” he chews his lip, “I honestly wasn’t sure what to suggest specifically, but I do know that I want us to make a deal.”

Steve scoffs in disbelief, “A deal?” he shakes his head, “If you think me idiotic enough to shake hands with the devil, then I’m disappointed in my own behavior.”

“Well, good thing I’m not the devil.” Eddie snaps before taking a deep breath, “Look, at the end of the day, you and I have the same goal.” Eddie motions between them, “We both want to get out of here.” And we both want me dead. “I know you’re not happy here. I can help you.”

Steve poked his cheek with his tongue, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Eddie sighed, “You’re good at shooting, fighting, and pretending to hate me when I know you get horny at the thought of me. Steven, you’re not a good liar.” Steve clenched his jaw.

“Okay, but how do you expect me to ever accept your help? Furthermore, how could you even help me?” Steve asked before leaning forward. He hissed, “The only way you could ever be help to me is if you let me put a bullet in your head so I can get your bounty.”

Eddie raised a finger. “Perhaps,” he smiled, “but I’ve got something far more interesting.” He leaned to Steve, “I may have an eight-thousand-dollar bounty, but my crew’s got about thirty-five hundred dollars on each of their heads. You get them, you’ve got double my bounty.” Eddie wasn’t the best at math, and Steve snorted at his flawed logic. Furthermore, Eddie, of course, wouldn’t let Steve get Aphrodite, but it was still a tempting request.

Steve tilted his head, “Or I could get them and you to get an actual double of your bounty and then some.” He pointed out, and Eddie frowned before counting on his fingers. Steve laughed when Eddie frowned in frustration.

Eddie shook his head, ignoring his mistake, “I’m called Dead Ed for a reason, darling. I’m like a cockroach. It won’t be easy to kill me, but it’d be real easy to kill my crew. Especially if you’ve got me on your side.” He leaned back. “I know where they are, where they’re heading, and I know their weaknesses. I know you hate me, but whether you like it or not, you need me.”

“And how could I trust you?” Steve asked, “How do I not know they’re just going to ambush me?”

Eddie smirked, “Because I left them about eighty miles south of here—led them in circles to keep them close. You be quick, and you follow my shortcuts and maps, and you’ll get them in less than a week’s time. They may move quick, but they’re still dumb enough to allow themselves rest and mealtimes. I can ride all night and help you capture them as they sleep.” Aphrodite would likely arrive to Fool’s Gold shapeshifted into someone else by the time Eddie got back. His plan was a foolproof path to success for both Steve’s needs and his own. He was certain of it.

“Eighty miles south, you say?” Steve clarified in an oddly loud tone.

Eddie nodded, “Aye, eighty miles.” His smile widened.

Steve nodded and glanced to the hills surrounding the lake, “Did y’all hear that?!” he shouted. Eddie’s heart dropped when several men revealed themselves at the crest of the hill. Eddie stood and scrambled back.

“Loud and clear, sheriff!” One of them shouted. Eddie looked to Steve with an agape mouth.

“You tricked me!”

Steve scoffed, “Please, as if you didn’t have something up your sleeve as well.” He stood slowly and grabbed his gun, “I’m not an idiot, Ed.”

Eddie clenched his jaw, “But I’m one blinded by love.” In blinded fashion, Eddie made a quick decision. He dove to the side and grabbed his own gun. He didn’t shoot Steve. He’d never shoot Steve. Instead, he aimed the barrel at the sheriff’s friends on the hill. They all dove out the way of his aim, as he purposefully misfired into the dirt to keep them away. Steve had miraculously not shot at him. Instead, the sheriff was dodging Shadowmere, as his horse had suddenly gone in a frenzy. Eddie glanced at the creature and smiled. “That’s my girl!” he shouted. The horse shook her head and jumped. Lydia, meanwhile, merely watched her owner dodge the other horse’s kicks.

“You coming with?” Eddie asked the sheriff’s horse. She tilted her head and knelt onto the ground. Eddie smiled and fired more at the hills when the men scrambled back up. One of them rolled down the bumpy terrain, and his friend chased after him. Eddie re-fixed the saddle onto Steve’s horse just in time for Shadowmere to finally hit Steve where it mattered. She kicked the gun from Steve’s hand and stepped back. Eddie grabbed onto Steve’s shoulder and turned the man towards himself. “Sorry, sweetheart.” Eddie’s fist contacted against Steve’s temple. The man fell unconscious to the dirt, and Eddie hogtied him. Eddie hoisted Steve onto Lydia and tied him to the saddle. “Can I trust you to follow?” Lydia nodded.

Eddie laughed and hopped onto Shadowmere, leaving behind Steve’s bags but grabbing his own on the way out. Lydia chased after him, aided to keep up by him quickly lassoing the hoofed beauty to his own horse. Eddie fired more shots until the men all were too busy taking cover to even care about the bandit taking their sheriff. Meanwhile, Eddie was cursing himself for doing so.

Kidnapping Steve was definitely not the way to get on his good side.  

Chapter Text

March 9^th, 1786

“Such wounds to the heart will probably never heal. But we cannot simply sit and stare at our wounds forever.” – Haruki Murakami

Eddie was, to put it lightly, an idiot. He repeated the fact to himself the entire ride, as he dragged Steve and Lydia almost fifty miles North before stopping. He had kidnapped his soulmate! Hell, Steve had even woken up a few times in the trip and, instead of doing the smart thing of stopping and talking, Eddie only knocked him out again. It’d be a miracle if Steve didn’t kill Eddie the first chance he got, let alone even think the word ‘ally’.

He prayed Steve wouldn’t wake up now, as he untied the sheriff to handcuff him to a post instead. He had taken them to a long-abandoned homestead, one Eddie found a few years back while still building his own mental map of the desert. The place was fit with a barely put together bed, a cooking pot, a small fence to keep their horses, and a large post that Eddie stretched Steve’s arms around. Eddie scoffed at the handcuffs as he secured them, “Were these made by children?” he snorted to himself. It was as he stepped away that Steve groaned and lolled his head to the side.

“Liam…” Steve muttered, “Liam…” he repeated. Eddie furrowed his brows and crouched to Steve’s level. “Who’s that then?” Eddie asked, but Steve was far from awake. His eyes still fluttered behind his lids. “Steven…” Eddie whispered, leaning forward to gently shake the man’s shoulder. Steve merely repeated the name until he gasped. Eddie fell backwards to avoid getting hit by Steve’s rising frame. “Liam!” Steve shouted.

Eddie huffed from where he landed on his hands and butt. Steve panted and looked around bewildered before his senses seemed to catch up. His confused face switched into one of rage. “You!”

Eddie scooted back and spread his arms. “Me!” he presented himself mockingly before shuffling to his feet. “Me…” he groaned as he stood, “and you…” he rubbed the dirt off his trousers, “us!” he huffed and threw up his arms. He looked down to where Steve still sat in dirt. The sheriff glanced to Eddie’s horse tied to a post, as Lydia was hidden behind the building’s only standing wall.

“Where are we?” he glanced around at their surroundings which, like most places out west, were hills, cliffs, and a strip of land where a river once filled the otherwise dry landscape. Eddie followed Steve’s eye to find out the sheriff was looking to the only flat part of the horizon, where the heat of the ground made the view blurry. Eddie shrugged, “North.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “While I am fully aware of your idiocy, you’re a good navigator. You know exactly where we are.”  

“Was that a compliment?” Eddie asked in a teasing tone.

“I called you an idiot.”

“Yes, but you followed it with a compliment.” Eddie dropped the teasing tone upon realizing Steve wasn’t going to give in to their normal banter. The bandit crossed his arms instead, “We’re about fifty miles north of Fool’s Gold; the closest town is Deadstock, which is around forty miles due West.” Eddie pointed in that direction. Steve followed his finger and squinted at the horizon. “I’m only telling you that because I’m positive you won’t escape. That, and even if you did escape, you wouldn’t last long out here.”

There was a reason this homestead was abandoned along with everything in a forty-mile radius; some would call such a place Death Valley, but Eddie’s been to Death Valley. This area was far worse. Death Valley suffered great heat, but the spot they had taken over, closer to California, was bombarded with heat, dangerous creatures of all sizes, and no food or water sources for miles.

Looking back, it probably was Death Valley, but Eddie’s not good at applying modern geography to his memories.

“I could steal your horse.” Steve pointed out, a familiar rage to his tone. “Give you payback for killing mine!” He yanked against his restraints like Lydia’s corpse was laid out in front of him.

Eddie was physically taken aback by the sudden accusation. “For what?!” he spluttered then walked around the abandoned building and grabbed Lydia’s reigns. He pulled her far enough to present her to Steve. The sheriff sighed in relief. “How cruel do you think I am?” Eddie asked, leading Lydia to stand beside Shadowmere.

Steve’s momentary nerves and relief turned into his semi-normal state of arrogance. He snorted, “Not cruel enough, clearly.” His eyes showed challenge, “What kind of idiot would keep my means of escape around?”

“The kind of idiot that doesn’t want to kill an innocent horse; I just bribed her with some bread and water is all.” Eddie reached into one of her saddlebags to grab jerky and water then took them to the sheriff. “I’m also idiotic enough to not starve you.” Steve kept his expression in a twisted sneer, while Eddie tried to hold out a piece of jerky.

“You’re mad if you think I’m eating from your disgusting hands.” Steve remarked, turning his head away from the offering. Eddie didn’t point out Steve’s equally filthy hands. Instead, he took a spiteful bite of the jerky. Eddie knew why the man was mad; any idiot would know why Steve was mad. That didn’t make it any less frustrating. All he needed was for Steve to like him. Hell, at the very least tolerate him! Anything to make them allies in some way; anything to make it easier to save the sheriff’s life. “I assume the water is poisoned.” Steve raised his chin when Eddie bothered to offer the water next.

Eddie took a deep breath and became reminded of a time with a certain siren. Back then, Steve was always patient and understanding with Eddie. He would wait out his anger and, while Steve was certainly a spitfire, he never got angry enough to actually cause damage. Unlike Eddie, Steve’s anger wasn’t destructive.

Eddie took a page from Stephen’s book and swallowed the fire fueling his mind, “Look, I apologize for kidnapping you, but I had no choice—"

Steve scoffed in disbelief, “You apologize for—no choice?!” he laughed, “No choice?! You had plenty choice. You could’ve easily escaped without dragging me along!”

Eddie let his mouth open in an equally shocked expression, “Yes, because you and your friends made it so easy by shooting me with every gun you had in town! I escaped because I had to. I brought you along because I panicked. I truly did want to discuss an alliance, and all you did was ambush me!” Eddie waved his arms about before sitting on an upside down tub likely once used to feed pigs.

“And what else did you expect me to do?” Steve asked, shuffling to try for a better sitting position, “You’re a criminal of the worst degree; it’s my job to put you to justice.” Eddie refrained from rolling his eyes, “Not to mention, you’ve killed every sheriff you’ve ever met. As far as I’m concerned, it’s kill or be killed with you.”

“I haven’t killed you—haven’t even tried.”

“Please,” Steve snapped, “spare me the tricks. I know people like you. I know you feed off the joy of a hunt. You’re like a wolf that plays with its meal before going for the throat. I join an alliance with you, then what? Then you stab me in the back and prove my suspicions true.” Steve leaned as far forward as he could go, “You’re a villain, Ed. The heroes in the story, like me, don’t fraternize with villains.”

Eddie tilted his head and squinted his eyes, “You think you’re the hero in this story?” He hissed. “Please, you’re a man driven by an obsession with an improper representation of justice. You kill and punish according to the law. I do what I do for the betterment of the people; you just want to feel better about yourself. You want the fame, the power, the money, and you are nothing like the hero you think you are.”  

“What, and you are?” Eddie fiddled with his shell bracelet, “Tell me, Ed, how does murdering innocent people improve the people? You’re a cruel, evil man. You’ll die unknown and unloved because no one could ever love a villain like you. How does killing a sheriff help people in any way? Their only line of protection—” Eddie stood and cut Steve off by the sudden action. Steve seemed fearful for a moment, but Eddie didn’t care.

“You want to know how I help people, Steven?” Before Steve could answer, Eddie took a step forward. He was nearly nose-to-nose with the sheriff and spoke with a permanent sneer.  “I killed those sheriffs because they were corrupt.” Eddie explained. “I won’t pretend I, in the past, have not been cruel; I am not a hero, but I am not a villain. The sheriff from Victoria raped his prisoners. I challenged him to a duel and won.” Steve raised his chin in defiance, so Eddie spat, “The one from Gale’s Hallow stole from the church and school in town. I challenged him to a duel as well. The last sheriff I killed had led a charge in attacking a nearby tribe of Indians. They asked we kill him and bring justice to the town that helped him. After I killed him in that duel, we stole from his supporters, who betted against me.

“I rob banks belonging to upper societies, and I rob first class train cars—never lower than second class.” Eddie glanced into Steve’s wide eyes, swallowed, and leaning back. “I’m not a villain;” he repeated and crossed his arms, “I’m a morally grey bandit with a bloodlust…” he tilted his head, “and a talent for breaking the law.”

“A villain is all I hear.” Steve decided after not-so-careful consideration, “A spiteful, cruel villain, who thinks himself worthy of judgement akin to that of God. You take people’s words and believe them. You kill without any chance of trial or true justice. You’re a cruel man.”

“A trial?” Eddie scoffed, “And where was my trial, huh?” He sat back on the old pig pen.

Steve rolled his eyes, “I’ve known of your crimes since before I became sheriff; I didn’t need a judge to tell me what I already know.”

“You’re such an ass.”

“Takes one to know one.” Eddie didn’t grace Steve with a response. He ignored the sheriff in favor of finishing off his jerky. Steve, after a few moments of silence, clenched his jaw and shuffled impatiently where he sat. He looked around after bending one knee for a more comfortable sitting position. “What’s taking so long?” he asked suddenly.

Eddie frowned and swallowed his mouthful, “What?”

“You heard me.” Steve swallowed, “I know you brought me out here to kill me, so what’s taking so long?” he tilted his head toward the far horizon, “I assume your colleagues are going to come running ready to give me a slow death, right?”

“What?” Eddie twisted his face, “Have you not been listening to anything I’ve been saying?! I don’t want to kill you—”

“You put a knife into that note you left me!” Steve pointed out.

“Because I’m an idiot!” Eddie groaned and face palmed. He motioned his free hand to Steve, “And you’re an idiot who won’t get it into his thick skull;” he threw both hands up, “I don’t want to kill you!”

“You don’t?!” Steve seemed genuinely shocked about this information, as if it was his first time hearing the truth.

“No!” Eddie rubbed his temples to stave off the imaginary migraine. He couldn’t get migraines due to the whole… “immortal” thing, but the annoyance stayed. “No, of course I don’t!”

Steve opened and shut his mouth, “Then why did you kidnap me?”

“Because I’m an idiot!” Eddie repeated and threw his hands up, “I’m an idiot who wants you on my side, but I panicked because our meeting was supposed to be the way to get you on my side, and I didn’t fathom the knife in the note would be taken in the wrong way. I also didn’t fathom you’d ambush me because, despite my demeanor, I’m naively optimistic.” Eddie stood and paced as he talked, “And I know you hate me, but I don’t hate you. I seriously don’t hate you, and I want to be better. I was serious about helping you catch my friends, and I was serious about wanting to be allies, and I would really appreciate it if you’d stop trying to kill me and stopped hating me and let me help you!”

Steve, for the first time in that century, seemed shocked silent. “Why would I let you help me?” he asked cruelly after a few moments of silence. “I don’t care if you kill for some greater good. You’re a vile man, and I won’t see you as anything else. I don’t care how much you beg. You—” It was as Steve cut himself off that Eddie realized something equally disturbing and fascinating. The sheriff’s eyes were tearing up. Steve struggled to speak before finally saying what he needed through a coal filled throat, “You don’t deserve to get a second chance at doing something good. You think you’d help me, but capturing your own crew would only help yourself. You’re a lone wolf; I know it. You just want me to get rid of your problems so you can go off and continue being the crook you are. You think helping me would wipe your slate clean, but it won’t. The stains will stay and, even if the entire world forgets, I’ll remember the blood which caused them, and I will never rest until you’re six feet under where you belong.”

Steve’s lip quivered like waves in a storm. Eddie didn’t respond. It was partly because he didn’t know how. Steve’s short rant, though full of emotion, was one that wasn’t completely understandable. Eddie had a feeling part of the reason was because, well… he doesn’t think that rant was meant for him.

History doesn’t repeat itself, but it can rhyme, right? In the last century, Steve was far from a fortunate man. Sure, he came from wealth, and he got lucky that it was Eddie who found him over some other pirate or, worse, no one at all. Even then, Steve was not fortunate. He had a horrid family and a wretched past. He was something beautiful grown from rot and trash. Perhaps, this Steven was the same. Perhaps Steve’s family too was wretched and vile. Perhaps Steve’s past was unfortunate.

Perhaps Eddie should’ve paid more attention to Steve and Wren’s conversation. Something happened with his parents—something Wren couldn’t even vocalize without saddening Steve. They were still in danger—still on the run.

“Who’s Liam?” Eddie asked. He was never keen on staying on topic. Besides, he was sure they both needed a break from discussing Eddie’s not-so-morally-correct hobbies and pitiful requests to be allies. He also needed more pieces to Steve’s puzzle in his mind.

Steve’s face paled. “What?”

“Liam—you were saying his name in your sleep.”

“I-I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Steve dismissed, “I don’t know anyone named Liam. You must’ve misheard me.”

“Then why do you look like you’re about to vomit?” Eddie held out the water again. Steve tugged on his restraints and leaned back. Eddie waterfalled some into the sheriff’s mouth before taking his own drink. “You said his name three times.”

Steve exhaled after quenching his thirst. “Well, you misheard me.”

“I didn’t.”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Because you fascinate me.” Eddie immediately answered, blushed, then rushed to explain, “Uh—I mean, if we’re going to be allies, then I think we should be friends first.”

Steve growled, “I still haven’t agreed to being allies.”

Eddie smiled, “I’m stubborn.”

“You’re annoying.”

“You’re being awfully teasing for someone who wants me dead.”

The man scowled, “I’m not teasing. I’m insulting you.” He squinted at the setting sun, “It’s not my fault you’re too idiotic to understand that.” He clenched his jaw, “Never ask about Liam again.”

Eddie glanced to the ground, where Steve’s gaze had drifted. “Okay, I won’t.” Eddie promised before standing with a groan. He was about to put some distance between them but stopped… turned back. A heavy exhale left through his nostrils without much control, and it made Steve tilt his head. “You may not like me, but don’t let your mind drown in whatever storm you’ve got going on in there.” He tilted his chin to Steve, referring to his head, “I won’t ask again. But just know, I asked because I care.” Too vulnerable, but Eddie had to say it, if only to ease Steve’s mind a little.

Steve merely looked at him with a scientific gaze, like Eddie was something to be solved. “You’re a freak.” He muttered mostly to himself.

Eddie snorted, “Takes one to know one, sweetheart.”

March 10^th, 1786

Eddie didn’t sleep. He pretended to. He lied in the dirt a few feet from Steve with his hat covering his eyes. It only took a few minutes for Steve’s adorable snoring to fill the otherwise silent night and let him know he could drop the act. He sat up drawing instead, having a fire already built hours before. Eddie enjoyed watching Steve sleep. Of the two of them, his siren was always the lazier one when it came to resting. He’d stay up late then sleep well through the day. Though, Eddie wasn’t sure if the same sleeping habits could be attributed to this version of his love. It took Steve a while to fall asleep, sure, but the sun was already starting to rise, and the man was still asleep.

Eddie couldn’t help but perk up when Steve fully opened his eyes but, not yet remembering where he was, merely turned away from the rising and evading sun. Eddie gave up his façade after that, rising and leaning against the ruins of the old building to draw. It took him exactly ten seconds of drawing Steve to stand and untie the man’s arms. Steve in ropes was one of his top ten favorite views, sure, but he didn’t like how uncomfortable Steve looked. The sheriff’s arms fell to his side, yet he stayed asleep.

“Such a deep sleeper…” Eddie muttered to himself with a fond smile. He glanced to the horses and back to Steve before deciding. It wasn’t a very good decision, in par with the last week and a half, but nothing could change his mind. He collected some jerky from Shadowmere’s saddle, some fruit from Lydia’s, some old rum, some bread, and jam. The jam was still sealed from when Eddie bought it, so it smelled just as fresh.

Eddie didn’t have any plates, so he grabbed a mostly clean blanket from his saddle. He shook it in the air to fluff out the dust before laying it on the ground besides Steve. He next laid out the jerky, bread, jam, and poured some rum in a cup, though he placed that on an upside-down bucket. He grabbed a book as well. It wasn’t for his makeshift picnic, not in the slightest. Embarrassingly, he grabbed the book to show Steve he was smart. It was no secret that he could read, considering his infamous year-long phase of stealing books along with gold, but he wanted to impress Steve, if only a little. He feigned nonchalance, as he opened to the page he left off.

Unsubtly, Eddie cleared his throat, glancing at Steve over the edge of his page. A frown etched across his features when the sheriff didn’t move. He cleared his throat louder. Again, nothing. Eddie rolled his eyes, “… goddamn historical rhymes.” He leaned forward and kicked Steve’s foot before scrambling back to where he originally sat. He grabbed a piece of bread to seem more natural. Steve jumped and turned his head to the side. He raised his hands to fight the source of his disruption before staring at his untied hands.

“You untied me,” He observed.

“And made breakfast,” Eddie added, not looking up from his book. He refused to glance at Steve, trusting his instincts on both how to impress the man and to be ready if Steve decided to attack.

Steve, likely confused and discombobulated from having just woken up, merely looked at the blanket with furrowed brows. “I’m…” he glanced to his arms and swung them back and forth, as if not believing they were no longer tied, “I’m going to go piss.” He stood, sending confused glances back to Eddie as he walked away.

“I’m a genius!” Eddie whisper-shouted to the horses. Lydia shook her head, while Shadowmere continued absently drinking from the pail Eddie gave them. He turned back to his book with a proud smile right when he heard the small brush of sand. His head turned just in time to dodge Steve’s fist. He could hear Lydia neighing from where he now laid in the dirt, luckily having dodged their supposed-to-be romantic picnic. “What the fuck?!”

Steve had fallen when his gravity was thrown off, but he crawled forward to straddle Eddie’s hips. Eddie reached up and grabbed Steve’s arms before the man had a chance to swing. “Not that I’m complaining about this position—” Eddie groaned as he spoke then flipped over with a lunge of his hips, “—if you fight me, I will win, and I will tie your ass again.” Eddie kept his hands pressed against Steve’s wrists. Steve, still tired and strangely relaxed, huffed through his nose. He strained against Eddie’s hold. Even if Steve was stronger in this life, Eddie had the advantage. Only one of them felt fatigue, and Steve didn’t sleep much. Steve stopped straining after a few minutes and landed on his back, panting with a red face. “Let go of me.”

Eddie cocked a brow, “Will you keep fighting me if I do?”

Steve clenched his jaw, “Let go of me. I’m hungry.” Eddie tilted his head. Steve rolled his eyes, “Please?! Will you please let go of me?” Steve had a slight whine to his voice that made Eddie’s mind stir a concoction of fantasies. Instead of acting upon them, he let go of Steve and sat back. He grabbed some bread, “Here,” and shoved it into Steve’s chest, “eat.”

Steve scowled but ripped a piece of the bread off. Bread back then wasn’t the soft luxury it is in the 1980s—it’s no wonder bread, but it was satisfying and filling, even if it was hard. Steve chewed angrily before his expression softened. “Are those preserves?” he reached forward and grabbed the jar of strawberry jam. Eddie smiled.

“I got them a few weeks ago. They’re still good.”

Steve opened the jar and inhaled. He moaned. “God, I haven’t had strawberries in ages.” He dipped his finger in and sucked on the digit, moaned, and hollowed his cheeks in an obscene manner. Eddie had to look away to avoid saying something vulgar. Steve noticed Eddie’s sudden movement, “Oh, how impolite of me to stick my finger in your jam.” Steve’s tone was sarcastic, showing he didn’t actually care, but the phrase on its own made Eddie burst into laughter. Steve scowled and kicked the bandit. “Get your head out of manure!”

Eddie laughed, “Oh, sweetheart, you can stick your finger in my jam all you want.” Steve paused before he suddenly blushed and scowled.

“You’re a childish pervert!” he insulted, shaking his head dramatically. Eddie continued laughing. Steve stuck his tongue out and looked around before spotting the cup of rum sitting near him. He grabbed the cup and took a drink just to immediately spit it out. “Oh, God, what is this?!”

Eddie’s face turned red, “It’s rum, you idiot!” Eddie spoke once his guffaws died down.

“It tastes like piss.” Eddie rolled his eyes and snatched the cup from Steve’s hand. He downed the liquid in one swallow, making Steve grimace and stick his tongue out. “You truly are a mad man.”

“Takes one to know one.” Eddie stuck his tongue out between his teeth cheekily.

Steve spoke with a mouth full of jam and bread, “I must be, if I’m speaking to you.” He swallowed, “If I had my gun, I would’ve shot you by now.”

Eddie crossed his arms and sighed dramatically, “You’re starting to get really annoying with the whole ‘wanting to kill me’ thing.”

“You are starting to get annoying with the whole ‘murdering innocent people’ thing.” Steve responded, reaching for some jerky next.

“I told you; I only kill those who deserve it.”

“I told you; I don’t buy that for a second. And it’s still wrong, even if it is true.” Steve took a large bite of the jerky before frowning at the book Eddie was reading. He reached over and picked it up. “Romeo and Juliet?” he snarked before tossing it to Eddie, “I thought you were lying before. I never pegged you as the type.”

“The type?”

“A Shakespeare fan.” Steve clarified, saying the title like a slur, “That story is for fools or women.” He crossed his arms, “Then again, you may as well be one, living in the sin you do.”

Eddie opened and shut his mouth, “You’ve read Romeo and Juliet?” he asked for clarification, ignoring the homophobic jab. He was more focused on Steve’s apparent distaste. Many books have come out since 1786. There was no obligation for Romeo and Juliet to still be Steve’s favorite book, but hearing his siren insult a book he once loved… It made Eddie’s heart twist in his chest.

Steve’s eyes darted to the side. “Yes, of course I have.” He licked his lips, “It was required for everyone at Trinity to study Shakespeare.”

Eddie jumped into action, “Trinity?”

Steve seemed to mentally curse himself for giving something away but answered nonetheless, “Yes, Trinity School in New York. It’s where I did my studies.”

“New York?”

“Where I grew up.”

“Grew up?”

“Are you a parrot?”

Eddie snorted, “Sorry,” he raised his hands and lowered them, “I lived in New York for a short while. I’m surprised I never saw you.”

“Yes, well, I’m not a schoolboy anymore.” He rubbed his short beard for emphasis.

“I never forget a pretty face.” Eddie spoke before Steve had a chance to scowl at the compliment, even as his face did flush, “I’ve studied Shakespeare as well, but I’ve never been to a school.”

“Did you grow up poor?” Eddie was almost shocked at Steve’s nonjudgmental tone.

“Very…” Eddie replied carefully, “Though, I was kicked out of school because, uh…” he waved his hand, “left-handed.”

Steve smiled, surprising Eddie even further, “My maid’s son, Lia—Luther was left-handed.”

Eddie didn’t point out the correction, even as it set off an alarm in his brain. “He was?”

Steve clenched his jaw, clearly wanting to change the subject, stop talking, insult Eddie, or all the above. Instead, he tilted his head, “Our home tutor made him correct himself, but… yeah he was always left-handed.”

“Did he go to your school?”

Steve shook his head, “His parents couldn’t afford it. He actually wasn’t supposed to be in my tutoring sessions either, but I bribed our tutor to let him sit in.” He laughed, “My tutor was terrified anytime my father was home; she’d make Luther watch from the closet!”

Eddie laughed as well, “Bribery, huh?”

“What?”

Eddie shrugged with a smirk, “Sounds like a crime to me.” Steve rolled his eyes and tossed a piece of his bread’s crust. Eddie caught the morsel and tossed it into his mouth. “Face it, you’re just as evil as I am.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “I am not.” He miraculously didn’t insult Eddie this time. “I just wanted my friend to have as good as a shot as I had. It wasn’t fair he couldn’t read the amazing stories I got to.” He looked down and picked at the crumps which fell to the blanket. Eddie smiled.

“You’re a good friend.” He said sincerely.

Steve hummed and looked far away. Eddie, assuming the conversation was over, went to open his book, but a sigh and a nearly inaudibly muttered— “I’m not.”—made him set the book aside. Steve was staring at his hands, now covered with jam and the blanket’s crumbs. “I’m not a good friend.”

“I don’t believe that.” Eddie scoffed.

“I’ve threatened to kill you several times.”

“Yes, but I’m positive you don’t see me as a friend.” Eddie paused to laugh before clarifying, “How you treat me is in no way reflective of how you treat friends.”

“You’re right.” Steve admitted, but his smile dropped into a deep frown. “I treat them worse.”

“I don’t buy that for a second.”

“No one does, but they’re wrong. They don’t know me.” He brought his knees to his chest. Eddie saw in Steve’s movements a glimpse of what he truly was: a scared kid. Eddie knew something had happened—maybe something with Liam. He wanted to know what—wanted more than anything, but he knew better than to pressure a cornered, injured animal.

“None of us know each other.” Eddie shrugged and grabbed some chewing tobacco, offering Steve some, “We learn what we can and fill in the empty spaces. That’s why it’s so easy to love; we fill in the gaps with gold and light. We believe what we want to. We see the best no matter how wrong it may be.”

“Is that also why it’s so easy to hate?” Steve stuffed some dried leaves into his mouth.

“Depends, is that why you hate me?” Eddie chewed on the bitterness in his mouth, “Do you hate me because you filled in the blanks with the things you dislike?”

“It’s hard not to; the things I know about you are the things I’m meant to hate.” Steve spit before admitting, “Yet, I have to force myself to do so.”

“You have to force yourself to hate me?” Eddie tried not to sound to hopeful.

Steve’s eyes widened, “Uh, I…” he licked his lips, “It’s hard to hate someone when they’re nice to you. Even if you are a murderer,” he raised the now empty jar of jam, “you’ve reminded me of the sweetness of fruit.”

Eddie smiled at the empty jar, “Sweet enough to spare my life?”

“Sweet enough to give you a faster death.”

“That’s good enough for me.”  

March 12^th, 1786

“How come you don’t eat?” Steve asked through a mouthful of bread. They were running out of provisions, but Eddie had luckily caught a hare that and was skinning it as they spoke. Even if the record had gone from five minutes to several hours since Steve had last threatened Eddie’s life, Eddie imagined handing Steve a hunting knife wouldn’t be the smartest decision.

Nonetheless, they had made tremendous progress. Steve even sat across from Eddie on a stump instead of several feet away on the ground.

“I eat.” Eddie replied, mindlessly yet carefully sliding the knife just between the hare’s skin and lower muscle. He raised the knife to point it at Steve, “You are simply unobservant.”

“It doesn’t take a genius to notice when someone isn’t eating. All I see you do is chew tobacco.” Steve ironically grabbed his own handful of the dried leaf. “I know I said I wanted you dead, but I’d prefer my captor not starve to death before given the chance to take me back home.”

“I will take you home when you agree to an alliance,” Steve rolled his eyes, “and I eat. I just don’t eat much in front of you.” Eddie pulls off the final piece of the rabbit’s flesh and holds the skin in front of him, laying it on a rock. “Can I trust you enough to strip and dry that hide?” he asked, holding up a fleshing knife and string.

Steve didn’t respond, opting to instead stare at Eddie with those gorgeous eyes of his. It was a look Eddie knew very well, having been somewhat of a teacher for Steve in the past. The man was utterly confused, and it showed in the way his eyebrows sloped downwards and the way he frowned. “You’ve never stripped a hide?” Eddie asked.

“I’ve never hunted.” Eddie tried not to make his surprise visible. While hunting is not so common in modern times, it was almost a necessity back then, especially for folks like Eddie, who was on the road for days at a time and needed proper food resources. As for Steve, Eddie knew the man came from a wealthy background. Even then, the elite in places like New York, though surrounded by city, often went on weekend trips to hunt for big game and trophies.

“You’ve never hunted?” Eddie also tried to hide the surprise in his tone. He seemed to have not been successful, because Steve blanched and scowled.

“No, I have—just not in a while. Not everyone enjoys killing like you do; I, for one, hated it.” His eyes subtly widened, like he said too much. “I—uh—” he cleared his throat, “I went once and didn’t like it. My father dragged me on a trip when I was ten and made me shoot a fox. I… I didn’t like it.”

“Was it the blood?” Eddie didn’t mind blood, depending on what or who it flowed from. There were obviously many unhappy memories involving blood, but Eddie was otherwise indifferent. However, he knew many people aren’t so comfortable around the crimson liquid.

Steve shook his head. “It’s stupid.”

“Nothing you say could ever seem stupid to me, darling.” Steve’s frown deepened, and he gave Eddie that inquisitive look that the bandit loved, because it showed Steve was interested. It showed Steve cared enough to be confused about Eddie’s actions; it showed, in the way his eyes squinted, and his mouth would shake with the urge to inquire, Steve wanted to fix his confusion. He wanted to learn more. At least, that’s what Eddie hoped it meant.

After a while, Steve looked away and swallowed. “The fox was so beautiful.” He muttered, speaking to the dirt like it could listen. “It was a female—likely had pups—had a family. She had brown eyes like fresh honey and… and a gorgeous orange coat. My father kept saying mother would love it as a hat, but all I could think was how…” he sneered, “hideous it became. She was a flash of color in the white, barren snow. She was the prettiest thing in that forest, she had a gentle dance in her step—the way she stalked and scurried, and she may have been sly like all the foxes, but she wasn’t evil. She was just a beautiful fox, and I was the monster that shot her. I was the one to stain her orange coat with dark blood, I was the one to make those bright, brown eyes lifeless, and I was the one to make a beautiful thing hideous.” Steve took a shuddering breath for the first time in his tangent. He inhaled on a gasp to finally whisper, “I turned her into nothing but an ugly trophy.”

Eddie thought the extent of his love for this version of Steve would peak at loving through the memories of his siren, but, in that moment, he saw the bleeding heart deep beneath the armored skin Steve had sculpted around himself. He saw his siren waving from ashore, and Eddie found a motive to swim. His siren was not dead but in a new vessel, because only his siren would understand the difference between the beautiful and the ugly. Only his siren could see the beauty in what the rest deem sly and evil. Only his siren could interpret what most would deem a success as an act of cruelty.

“I don’t kill foxes.” Eddie spoke after a while. Steve looked up at him.

“No, of course not,” Steve scoffed, “you just kill people.”

Eddie couldn’t help but chuckle at that, earning a quick glare from Steve. “Yes, I do. Do you want to know why?”

“Not really, but I’ve got nothing better to do than listen to bullshit.”

Eddie ignored the jab and shifted to rest one leg atop the other. “I’ve told you I kill the corrupt and the cruel and the evil for the greater good…” Steve nodded, “I lied. I don’t kill them for that reason alone nor for the reason you think—”

“How do you know what I think?” The sun’s rays reflected off Steve’s brown eyes, making him squint for a reason other than distaste or confusion. It made him look wise, and that made Eddie smile. At this point, Eddie was 120 years old, but no matter how much older he is, he will always consider Steve smarter. Steve was a philosopher, a poet, and a lover. Eddie was smart with a blade, a gun, and his tongue, but he was not so wise. That was all Steve. That being said, Eddie may not have known much, but he knew Steve, even as a rhyme.

“You think I kill people for revenge or for justice because that’s what you do. You think me chaotic neutral, while you are more lawful good. While I have killed for revenge and justice in the past, they have never been for someone else. I killed the man who killed my mother and my sister.” Steve’s breath hitched. “I killed the woman who killed the love of my life. I killed people who stole from me or have tried to kill me; I’ve raided entire villages just because someone I loved was hurt.”

“You haven’t killed me.” Steve pointed out.

“I haven’t.” Eddie didn’t provide any further explanation besides the confirmation, as he continued, “It makes sense for me to have killed those kinds of people, but that gets rid of whatever motive I have to kill all the others. Why kill a sheriff that has done nothing to me? Why kill an aristocrat who did nothing but be in the wrong place at the wrong time? Why set fire to government buildings? Why steal on top of it all?”

“Because you’re insane?”

Eddie laughed and shook his head, “Because I appreciate beautiful things. I consider it my job to protect them.” He played with one of his rings, “These people I’ve killed, they’re ugly. They’re vile creatures who spread their plague wherever they go. They invade the garden of Eden and turn it into rot and sewage. They will crush everything beautiful in their path, so I kill them before they can spread any further. I killed those sheriffs because they were turning innocent, beautiful people ugly. I killed those aristocrats, because their greed turned lovely families and employees into rotting zombies and desperate animals. I kill ugly things.” Eddie considered for a second. “That’s why I didn’t kill you. You’re not ugly, and you certainly don’t turn beautiful things ugly.”

Steve’s expression was one Eddie had never seen before—plain, curious, and—almost—hurt? “And the stealing?”

Eddie shrugged with a smirk, “Well, my job isn’t exactly a paying one. Satisfaction alone can’t feed my horse.”

Steve raised a brow and shrugged, “And does your group know of your true motives?”

Eddie shook his head, “No, they all assume I do it for fun or because I hate everyone like they do.” Eddie tilted his head in consideration, “Well, I do hate just about everyone, but not enough to kill them. Not everyone is ugly, even if most are annoying.”

“You said you don’t think me ugly.”

“Not in any sense of the word.” Eddie smiled. Steve opened and shut his mouth, and Eddie didn’t know how to interpret that. Instead, he grabbed the hide and his discarded knife. “I don’t think this hare was too pretty, so do you want me to teach you how to strip its hide?”

Steve sighed in consideration, “Why not?” he decided. Eddie had to bite his tongue to keep from smiling, as he pressed himself into Steve’s side. He grabbed Steve’s hand and showed him how to hold the fleshing knife and draped the hide over Steve’s knee. He grabbed Steve’s hand to guide him. They sat like that, stripping the flesh from the fur, for nearly an hour. It was when they were finishing up, and the rabbit was roasting over a flame, that Steve said something Eddie will never forget.

“I don’t think I’m capable of finding someone like you beautiful,” Eddie looked up from where he was tending the flames. The orange glow danced across Steve’s thoughtful expression, “but I don’t find you ugly.”

“Do you still want to kill me?” Eddie dreaded the answer.

Steve held Eddie’s least favorite expression. It was the one Steve wore whenever he was stressed, hurt, and utterly confused. It was the same kind Steve wore the first time he ever saw Eddie kill someone, back when Eddie was beginning to forget his motives to killing and when he cared more about his reputation than the gorgeous man in front of him. “I don’t know.” He sounded defeated.

“Do you still hate me?” Eddie asked next, glancing to the empty glass jar, “I have no more fruit to give.”

The confusion in Steve’s expression lessoned. “I believe I could never not hate you.” He nodded as if the statement was final, but his voice wobbled slightly, like a child trying to be brave about a monster beneath their bed.

Eddie tried not to smile. He looked over at the setting sun and looked for tomorrow. Tomorrow was another day of bonding, another day of learning, and another day of being with his love.

Tomorrow was another step closer to saving Steve, and, for the first time in a while, Eddie was hopeful—optimistic. He was going to save Steve, who was nowhere near as cruel as Eddie had originally believed. He was going to keep the most beautiful thing in the world safe, and that was all he could ever ask for.

Chapter Text

March 14^th, 1786

“I think about you. But I don’t say it anymore.” – (Hiroshima mon amour) Marguerite Duras

Eddie hadn’t kept track of how long they were there—hadn’t had a chance to write in a journal to keep track, but it was some of his favorite time. A time of hunting, drawing, reading, and bonding. A time of learning about Steve and him learning about Eddie. A time of short arguments, watching Steve sleep, and asking about his dreams, even if Steve rarely answered. Now, it was nearing high noon, and Eddie and Steve sat around the dead fire eating rabbit and talking about their childhoods.

Eddie wasn’t stupid enough to believe Steve could actually like him beyond tolerance… not anymore. No, that boat had long sailed. Eddie’s plan was no longer get Steve to fall in love with him and save him. Now, it was strictly to save him, which should have been his goal all along. Eddie was just too caught up in what used to be that he forgot what really mattered. Now, he just needed Steve to not hate him, which was better than nothing and good enough to hopefully gain enough trust for Steve to let Eddie save him when the time came. For now, they would sit around the fire as the moon rose.

“It’s cloudy.” Steve pointed out after a while, squinting up at the sky, as he tried for the fifth time for the water pump on property to work. It was a useless venture, Eddie knew, which meant they’d have to move to find water unless the clouds above them brought rain. They were almost completely out. Eddie didn’t want to leave, but he wasn’t dumb enough to stay and risk the lives of everyone here. He was glad Steve was trying, even if the man’s constant grumbling was borderline annoying.

Contrary to what one may assume, the risk of dehydration was not the only cause of Steve’s urgency; they still had whiskey, and that was enough for some cowboys. See, Steve’s something of a clean freak. Even as a pirate, he insisted on near weekly baths. As a sheriff living in the dirty, dusty West, he was just as neat. Even with the near perpetual layer of dirt on all exposed patches of skin, he cared about being clean, even if his skin would just immediately get ruined again. It was the second highest thing he complained about after Eddie’s entire existence, though the race was getting closer as Steve grew more tolerant to the bandit.

“I can see that.” Eddie responded, looking at a cloud that kind of looked like a cactus if you squinted the right way.  

“It’s about time, the sun was burning my shoulders.” He grunted and kicked the pump with a curse. “This damned thing is impossible to work!”

“This place has been abandoned for years; you’d have better luck finding gold than working that rusted piece of shit!” Eddie motioned to the metal pipe sticking from the ground. Steve huffed and kicked the thing once more.

“Well, maybe I wouldn’t have such trouble working the pump if you hadn’t picked the worst hideout in the history of hideouts!” Steve snapped, “Or better yet, if you didn’t kidnap me in the first place. My wife is probably worried sick!”

Surprisingly, this was the first time in a while that Steve had mentioned his wife. He mentioned his son, but not his wife. “I told you; we can go back once you agree to call off your men or, at the very least, not try to immediately murder me. I want—”

“An alliance, I know, but I keep telling you that I don’t work with criminals.” Eddie sighed through his nose and raised his brows expectedly. “Just because I don’t hate you as much doesn’t mean I automatically want to let you off the hook,” Steve further explained.

“I know, but I’m stubborn.” Eddie smiled and stood. He nudged Steve out of the way, ignoring Steve’s offended scoff, “Let me try.” Steve stood to the side and crossed his arms in a familiar way. Eddie smirked to himself and knelt to look at the pump from beneath it. “The thing’s rusted shut, get me a knife.”

Steve raised his brows, “You want to trust me with a knife?”

“You don’t hate me.” Steve shrugged and walked to the horses. He tossed Eddie’s knife, narrowly missing the man’s thigh. “Hey!”

“I didn’t hit you!” Steve raised his hands with a challenging glare in his eye. Eddie snatched the knife up from the ground and stuck his tongue out at the sheriff. Steve muttered an insult and went off to feed the horses. Food was growing short too, even if there were plenty of wild hares around, they couldn’t feed meat to the horses. No matter what, their time here was about to be cut short.

Eddie hoped he could at least watch Steve bathe before then.

He used the end of his knife to scrape at the rust and dirt lodged in the pump. The thing groaned, and Eddie groaned back, thrusting his knife into the pipe end until a spurt of water splashed Eddie in the face. Like a dam being broken, water spilled from the pipe like it was brand new. Steve heard the water splash and ran around the building to shout. “Yes!” he threw his hands up and knelt in front of the pump as soon as Eddie moved out of the way.

The bandit cranked the pump, while Steve splashed water on his face. “Thank you.” Steve surprised Eddie with his sincerity, but Eddie was never one to appreciate nice moments.

“What can I say? I’m good with pipes.” He winked, and Steve scowled.

“You can’t just say you’re welcome and move on?” Steve asked before running water through his hair and beard. He grabbed a bucket to fill it with water to give Eddie a break. Eddie moved and watched Steve with a fond smile. The smile dropped when Steve suddenly stripped. Well, he took off his shirt, and, despite the toned stomach, tanned skin, and familiar moles, Eddie was speechless for a completely different reason.

There, interrupting Steve’s otherwise perfect flesh, on the left side, and below the pec—where he was stabbed and slain with a sword in a different life—was a birthmark. It was long and jagged at the edges, like the scar of a stab wound; Eddie knew the look well.

“What’s that?” Eddie asked with a shaking voice. Steve frowned and looked down where Eddie pointed.

“Oh, it’s a birthmark.” He smiled, “Used to hate it, but it’s cool, right?” he splashed the area with water, frowning upon noticing Eddie’s expression. “Not that I care, but are you alright? You look nauseous.”

“I—” Eddie stuttered, sighed, mentally called himself an idiot, and cleared his throat. He knew all good things ended—not that this was all that good, but time with Steve was never time wasted. Time with Steve when he was destined to die, however, was just wasteful. They weren’t going anywhere physically or metaphorically; Eddie had to make a tough decision. He had to take Steve’s side. “You’re right. We can’t stay here. Your family is probably worried sick.”

Steve, despite being the one to request going home a billion times over, seemed taken aback. The water dripped down his tanned skin, as his expression twisted. “You’re serious?”

“As a stab wound.” Eddie smiled bitterly. “I understand you don’t wish for an alliance, but keeping you here does nothing to convince you. I realize that now. Plus, even with that water, we could easily run out of food.” It was a bold-faced lie. Eddie wanted to never leave. He did want to keep Steve until March 27^th, where some kind of rattlesnake will no doubt try to kill Steve, or a coyote will make its move, and Eddie can fight the creature instead. Steve could be saved in the easiest way possible, but Eddie knew being sitting ducks would do nothing but complicate things. If there’s anything Eddie learned in the past century, it’s that life is nothing if not unpredictable. Waiting there, where the wilderness was rough, and the sun was high, there were many risks. The sight of Steve’s old wound, even healed and nothing but a blemish, made Eddie remember that fact—made Eddie remember he shouldn’t be so naïve and hopeful to believe nothing could go wrong.

As Aphrodite had explained and Eddie Mentioned, Steve, though destined to die the 27^th day of the third month of the 86^th year in each century—God, what a mouth full—can die at any moment.

Eddie wasn’t just gonna wait around at risk for a moment to appear.

“You’re a good hunter.” Steve pointed out, expression far too serious, even for the stern sheriff.

“Why are you arguing? You’re the one who wanted to leave!” Eddie threw his hands up, frustrated with Steve’s sudden stubbornness.

“Yes, well, now I don’t.” Steve crossed his arms like a petulant child.

“Yes, well, what if I said you don’t have a choice?” Eddie stood, “You are not in any shape to stay out here. Anything could happen. You could die. Something could go wrong. Hell, Fool’s Gold is probably going to hell without their sheriff there! You need to go back. Why are you arguing!?”

“Because I like it out here!” Steve snapped, uncrossed his arms, and frowned shamefully, as his cheeks burned. He stuttered, “I—I like the peace. There’s nothing to worry about here but food, and I’m used to worrying about that.” He worked his jaw and looked to the ground, “There’s no peering eyes and no gossip. There are no reminders of—of my old life. There’s nothing but the sun, the dirt, and—and…” he glanced to Eddie and away. Eddie felt like there was the answer to a riddle on the tip of his tongue. He ignored his confusion and carefully approached Steve.

“Steven, whatever it is you’re trying to say. Say it.” Eddie hesitated before tilting his head, “What are you so afraid of that you can’t go back?

Steve clenched his jaw. “Everything.” He spoke like the answer was being tortured out of him.

“Why?” Eddie pressed, feeling bad for doing so but needing to for his own sanity. The feeling of dread in his chest was near painful. The way it squeezed his heart, demanding an answer. Eddie knew—the poem that is time demanded it—that Steve had a bad past, but he had to know why. He had to know what made Steve toss and turn in the night, what made Steve flinch, what made Steve eye guns nervously, and what made him so damn afraid.

“I can’t tell you.”

“Is it something to do with Wren? With Victoria? With your son? With… with Liam?” With your family? With your past? With whatever has you looking so tired despite being only nineteen. So many more questions similar to those swirled in Eddie’s mind.

Steve took a step back, as if he’d just been slapped. “I can’t tell you.”

“Why not?” Eddie stepped after him. “I’m a bandit—a criminal; nothing you say can surprise me.”

Steve looked shattered, like glass thrown at the wall. “No, but what I say would only make me closer to you, and I can’t get close to you.” He shook his head, “I promised—promised myself—I wouldn’t let myself get hurt again. I made sure of it. You… you are frankly the first person I’d ever expect to hurt me—to betray me—to be cruel, yet I feel myself growing towards you like a tree grows towards the sun.” Steve’s mouth stuttered, as he searched his mind for the right words to say, “Even if I trusted myself to make such a friend, you would be my last choice. You—” he cut himself off. “You’re like a memory I’ve been trying years to get rid of, an emotion I refuse to be pained by, and the growth I’ve made since coming here is more important, and I can’t give up all my work just because I might like you.” The tears Eddie didn’t notice building in Steve’s eyes slipped down his cheeks, joining the water slowing evaporating from his skin.

Eddie’s heart might as well as stopped entirely. Steve liked him—well, might like him. Steve… there was no way Steve could ever like him. Steve was supposed to hate him. Hell, just an hour ago, Steve did hate him. Steve wanted him dead. Steve wanted him hanged. Yet, here the sheriff was, standing in front of a bandit, and telling him he might like him. “You w-what?” Eddie needed to hear it again. He needed to know his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him.

Steve scoffed, “Don’t flatter yourself; I said might.” He swallowed, “Look, I’ve begun to consider you a friend, okay? A-and I don’t want to push the lines I’ve already crossed, but that doesn’t mean I want to go back. Fool’s gold is much better than where I came from, but that doesn’t make it my home. I don’t have a home. The only reason I’d want to go back is for Wren, but she doesn’t need me, so forgive me if I’ve changed my mind… forgive me if I do want to stay here with you… to have some actual peace for once in my life.” He shook his head. “To be in a place where I can freely hate you, because if being here didn’t remind me of you kidnapping me, then I could like you, and I can’t like you.” Steve sniffed, “I can’t have something like you. Not again.”  

Eddie ignored the hope rising in his chest and scoffed. He squinted his eyes and stepped forward, “Bullshit.”

“What?” Steve’s tears dried like the desert dirt beneath them, as he looked up to Eddie with a frown.

“Bullshit!” Eddie repeated louder with a sharp exhale, “Who says so? Who says you can’t have that? Who says you have to be this miserable shell forever?!” Eddie didn’t mean to start shouting, but there wasn’t anything he hated more than Steve in pain, and his siren may as well as had another sword in his chest.

“I do!” Steve snapped. “I say so!” he pointed to himself and stalked forward, forcing Eddie backwards until his back hit the splintering wood of their abandoned hideout. “I have a duty… to my family, to my work, to myself. I have a duty and responsibilities. I have a son to take care of, a wife to provide for, and—and, most importantly, I have myself to take care of. And that means I can’t like you, Ed. Why do you think I’ve been so mean? It’s bad enough I want to stay here; it’s bad enough I’m willing to throw away my responsibilities for this.” Steve took a step back, but Eddie stayed pressed against the wall, panting, and flushed. Most noticeably angry.

“Fuck you.” Eddie pushed off the wall. Steve sputtered, but Eddie cut him off. “No, you don’t get to speak. You don’t get to confuse me. You don’t get to spit of responsibilities but push back the second I’m willing to give you what you want. You don’t get to be miserable and angry just to seal yourself up like a bank’s safe. You don’t want to get hurt, yet you torture yourself like a goddamn masochist. So, kindly, fuck you. Fuck you for being so stubborn. Fuck you for being so mean when I’ve been nothing but nice. And, most of all, fuck you for being your own worst enemy then having the audacity to say I could ever hurt you. I have done nothing to you, so fuck you!”

His fingers pressed against Steve’s bare chest, right beside the old stab wound. Steve was panting and at a loss of words. There was anger twisted in his expression, but his eyes shined with unshed tears. “I…” his voice cracked, as his eyes darted down to Eddie’s lips. He quickly avoided such a gaze to stare beyond Eddie at the horizon. It was then that the angry expression dropped into one fit with furrowed brows and a frown. “What the fuck?”

Eddie looked over his shoulder. There, at the top of a dirty hill, was a woman on a horse. Eddie turned completely around and squinted. It was Aphrodite, dressed in a red skirt and white blouse—a familiar disguise. She shouted something incoherent before forcing her horse into a run. She hopped off while the creature ran to the water source, drinking like she hadn’t in days.

Aphrodite was coated with dirt, blood, and panting like a dog. She ignored the men in favor of reaching the pump, where she sat beneath the falling water to drink as much as she could.

“Dee? What the fuck?” Eddie had almost forgotten he had agreed for her to meet them, but that wasn’t why he was questioning the woman. For one, they were supposed to meet far before this. More importantly, there was a gash on her forehead poorly sewn together, blood coating her white blouse, and blood coating her hands. She washed those hands, as she caught her breath. Steve knelt beside her, ignoring her flinch when he reached up for her cut.

“What happened?” he asked. Eddie knelt on her other side, trying to find any other injuries.

“They ambushed me—followed me.” She explained. “I don’t know how they found out, but they did! They followed me, and they know you were going back for Steven. They think you’re a traitor and trying to turn them in; they want you dead.” She tilted her head in consideration, “John wants you dead; the rest want you out of the crew. I tried to explain to them—lie—that you weren’t trying to go against them—that you weren’t with Steve, but they didn’t believe me. A-and John forced us back to Fool’s Gold, thinking you were still there. He captured some boy—Lucas—”

“My deputy.” Steve interrupted softly—voice grim.

Aphrodite nodded, “Yes, exactly. He got the kid and—fuck, they ripped him apart Ed. The most blood I’ve ever seen. They kept him alive until he admitted to ambushing y’all when Ed wanted the meeting, and that was all they needed to hear. They knew I was in on it. I was sloppy; I tried to defend you. I—” her words were all over the place, fueled by her lack of energy and lack of breath. Her eyes suddenly widened, and she remembered a key detail. Turning, she grabbed Steve’s arms and urgently yanked him forward. “They got your wife, Steven. They got her and your son a-and your maid and Lucas. Mato let me go only to warn you. They want Ed for your family; they want him dead.” Steve looked to Eddie with a conflicted gaze. Aphrodite drew him back in. “But, Steven, you have to know, these guys aren’t fair. They’ll kill your family and you. They may want Eddie dead, but they hate sheriffs. They hate your entire town. They’ll burn it all to the ground as soon as they get the chance. Give them Eddie or don’t; either way, your family is in grave danger.”

Steve swallowed. “H-how long do we have?” Eddie could barely hear anything through the ringing in his ears.

So, this is how it happens. He thought to himself. They’re going to kill Stephen. He should’ve known not to piss off his friends. Hell, he should’ve killed them the night he left, but Eddie, even with his trust issues, was never unfairly cruel. They didn’t deserve to die, but now, now Eddie swore to slaughter them the first chance he got.

“A week. They all went to one of our hideouts a couple hundred miles from Fool’s Gold near the Gates of Godless Valley. I say, we get in at night, get your family, and ride the hell out of there. We can’t have our final stand where they have the advantage. We need the town, and we need the protection.” Eddie knew she was lying through her teeth. They wouldn’t have any disadvantage at the hideout. Eddie was the one who named that passageway—the one which looked like the gates of hell, with its red and black rocks, arched entryway, and lack of sunlight. He knew that place by the back of his hand, but Steve wasn’t meant to die in a week. It didn’t matter where they made their last stand; they just had to have it on the 27^th.

“That’s a four-day ride total. Can those idiots even count seven days? What if we’re too late?” Steve asked, looking up at the sun. “We’ll never make it in time.” He lamented.

“Then we leave now.” Eddie decided, standing.

Aphrodite groaned, “Gods, can I rest for a minute?”

“Rest while we pack. We’ve got no time to lose.” He ordered. Steve stood and went for his shirt, while Eddie leaned down. “Especially ready to get your immortality back, huh?” he teased.

“I hate these mortal bodies; they’re weak like straw.” She groaned and massaged her neck, “Why didn’t I kill myself twenty years ago? I could’ve been lovely and young and spry.”

“You learned your lesson.” Eddie patted her on her likely sunburnt back, if the way she shouted and swapped at him was any clue. Eddie snorted and went for the horses, where Steve was frantically stuffing Lydia’s horse with their many supplies.

“We’ll need to stop in town for more supplies. I can hide y’all in my house until then.” Steve spoke without looking at Eddie. He kept his focus on the horses and their saddles. Aphrodite’s horse sauntered up beside Shadowmere, and they greeted one another before drinking from the buckets. “We need to find a way to bring water for them.” Steve suddenly realized.

“Aren’t there wagons in Fool’s Gold?” Eddie pointed out, “We get one of them, and we can carry all the supplies we need.”

“We need discretion. We’ll never have the element of surprise with a loud-ass wagon.” Steve adjusted the straps on Lydia’s saddle before moving on to Shadowmere.

“Then we’ll leave the horses.” Steve paused in his movements. “We take them a few kilometers out of Godless Valley and start walking at sundown; we’ll reach the hideout in a few hours and get back to the horses before the sun even rises.”

Steve furrowed his brows, “That’s… not a bad idea.” He admitted.

“Don’t act so surprised, sweetheart. You’ve seen the library I carry.” Eddie patted the saddlebag with various journals and books. “I’m smart when I want to be.”

“Says the man who used a knife to pin a” he used his fingers as quotation marks, “—friendly note, kidnapped me, gave me fruit, and proceeded to let me be free around various weapons when I’ve threatened him multiple times.”

“I said when I want to be.” Steve chuckled but quickly caught himself. “I know you don’t want to like me, but there’s nothing wrong with laughing at my jokes.” 

Steve shook his head, “It’s not that. I—I shouldn’t be laughing when my son is out there in some bandit’s shed. My wife…” Steve’s face seemed to suddenly drain of color. He swallowed bile or spit and took a deep, shuddering breath, “Wait, if Dee is here, then the rest of the crew are men, right?” Eddie frowned in thought before he took felt nauseous. He was never the kind to keep those kinds of people around, but who knows how much of his crew’s morals were fueled by their fear of Eddie’s punishments. With Eddie gone… who knows what they’d do.

“They know what I do to men like that. If they’ve got any ounce of intelligence, they’ll know their death would only be that much more painful.” Steve seemed relieved, if only a bit. Eddie understood. The only woman he ever left alone with those guys was Dee, but she could hand her own and could charm herself ugly. The only one who saw her real beauty was Eddie. That didn’t mean she, or any woman, was safe. Especially now that the crew had officially dropped Eddie as their leader, there was nothing stopping them from doing their worst.

Eddie prayed they weren’t doing their worst.

Steve remained silent, as Eddie worked in filling flasks with water and counting their remaining provisions. The bandit was walking past Steve carrying one of their blankets when the sheriff grabbed his arm. “Ed, I…” Steve clenched his jaw, “if I ask you to promise me something, can I rely on you to be true to your word?”

Eddie opened his mouth, but Aphrodite, who he assumed was sleeping, spoke, “He keeps his word.” Steve turned to the woman, “Ed is many things, but he’s nothing if not a man of his word.”

Steve chewed his cheek and looked back to Eddie. “Steven, what is it?”

Steve’s lower lip wobbled. “Listen, I—I told you I’m struggling with—with being closer to you. I told you I don’t want to like you, but we both know I already am beginning to see you as a friend, as annoying as you are. I—”

“Steven,” Eddie gently took a hold of Steve’s wrist, placing a finger on the man’s racing pulse. The sheriff flinched and looked up like a deer spotting a hunter in the woods, “deep breath.” Eddie inhaled through his nose, as Steve mirrored the actions. “Just breath. I don’t know what you are asking, but I swear to you, whatever you want, I will always give it to you. I will give you whatever you ask, just tell me what it is.”

“It’s not exactly a request.” Steve shook his head and closed his eyes, “No, I suppose it is. I just…” those eyes, the eyes Eddie will love more than any view in the world, stared into his. Steve’s eyes were extraordinary. They weren’t like a normal set of eyes. They weren’t blue like the sky or the ocean. They weren’t brown like Eddie’s—like whiskey. They weren’t green or yellow or some strange shade. They were a glorious hazel, with specks of a million colors only visible by those who cared enough to look. Eddie would swim in those eyes if given the chance. Shall the moon and stars ever fade from the sky, the man would always turn to his siren to find them there. The shades of the many galaxies right within Steve’s irises. Those eyes, which could hold enough emotion to write dozens of poems far better than any written before. Those eyes, which looked so afraid. Eddie wanted to die looking into those eyes.

“Promise me you aren’t going to betray me.”

Eddie was so lost in Steve’s eyes that the question took him aback. “What?”

Steve tilted his head, “I know I never agreed to an alliance. I know I refuse to call you a friend. I know I’ve been nothing but mean. I know I don’t deserve your loyalty, but please just… don’t betray me. Don’t lead me to a trap if that is what this is.” His voice broke, “Don’t let my family die if it’s me you want.”

What a puzzle Steve was. So many emotions in that mind of his yet so little ways to navigate. Eddie knew, then and there, that the storm in Steve’s mind wasn’t like any other. It wasn’t a storm in a sea, threatening to drown Steve in its might. Instead, it was a sandstorm. It was rough and unforgiving. There was no rain nor crashing thunder. Instead, the howling winds roared in Steve’s mind loud enough to block voices of reason—to block the voices telling Steve it would be alright and telling Steve he can learn to trust. Eddie had no idea what caused that storm, but, Gods, he’d give anything for a chance to navigate it. Just a glimpse in the sun beyond the shadows and the songs beyond the roaring winds. Any way to clear his throat and let the air back into Steve’s lungs.

“I would never do that, Steven.” Eddie nodded, “I promise you, with all that I have, that I am not going to betray you. I swear on my mother’s grave.”

Steve shook his head. “Swear on your lover’s grave—on your husband’s grave,” He insisted.

His lover asked him to swear on his lover, how ironic— “I swear on my husband’s grave that I won’t betray you.” He wanted to promise not to hurt Steve, but he knew that would only be a lie. Eddie was planning to kill himself in the name of love, and wouldn’t that just break Steve’s heart?

Still, Eddie believed a broken heart was better than an unfulfilled life. Steve deserved that. He deserved far more than what Eddie or death could give him.

“Thank you.” Steve sighed in relief, and Eddie considered that there was genuine trust between them. Finally, some connection.

“I’d do anything for you, darling.” Eddie didn’t mean to say it out loud, but the close proximity and skin-to-skin contact did nothing but remind him of simpler times. It was practically muscle-memory to say that to Steve. He wondered if it was a soulful memory which made Steve’s eyes flicker down to his lips for the second time that day. Eddie licked the skin, and Steve’s cheeks flushed in such a subtle way that if Eddie weren’t so enraptured by the man, he never would’ve noticed.

The moment was broken when Steve cleared his throat and stepped away. “Right, uh,” he coughed, “I’ll go prepare Dee’s horse.” He pointed behind him and walked in that direction. Eddie watched him walk away, ignoring the temptation to never leave his side. He waited until Steve rounded the building and jumped when he spotted Aphrodite smirking his way.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Eddie sneered, “You have no reason to look like that; you know he’s my soulmate!”

The ex-goddess raised her hands in surrender. “I’m just surprised, Ed. I thought this version of him would still be hating you by now.” She groaned and sat up, “Little did I know, your lips fill his thoughts.”

Eddie flushed and glanced towards the horses and Steve, “Really?” he looked back, “Are you sure? It’s none of your…” he waved his hand, “love-magic-power-stuff?”

She snorted, “It’s not, Ed.” She stood completely, “I told you, all my powers have yet to return. I only started being able to shapeshift again in this century.” Aphrodite pointed out, changing the color of her eyes for emphasis.

“But you can read minds?” Eddie tilted his head. No matter how many times the woman explained her abilities to him, he seemed to forget.

“Emotions, Ed.” Aphrodite rubbed the bridge of her nose, “I can read emotions, and that man—” she pointed to where Steve was brushing the dirt out of Lydia’s hair, “is just as gone for you as you are for him.”

Eddie looked over to the love of his life. The person he spent the last century searching for. The person he’d fight the heavens and sea for. The person he’d do anything to hold, to love, and to save. “I hate to see him in so much pain.” He muttered, referring to the way that Steve was tearing up. He angrily wiped the tears and stared forward, focusing on work instead of the storms within him.

“I know,” Aphrodite leaned forward, as her comforting smile turned into a teasing smirk, “but that’s just a symptom of you loving him.”

March 15^th, 1786

They left when the sun was beginning to set. Their plan was to ride to Fool’s Gold, stay for the night, and then leave the following nightfall. Steve was against the plan at first, but he knew it was the least risky in avoiding getting them caught.  The plan worked, as they arrived at nightfall without being spotted.

“No one is here?” Aphrodite whispered, as they snuck below the windows of the sheriff’s home, heading to the front door.

“No one comes out here, and they all think I’m gone. We’ll stay here. Then, tomorrow night, I’ll sneak to town to get a horse. Lydia doesn’t like anyone riding her, so I’ll get two.” Eddie smirked. “Don’t say it.”

“I’m not saying anything. Though, I like this rebellious side of yours, Steven.” Eddie hissed, “Criminal.” He added. Aphrodite rolled her eyes.

“It’s not stealing if I’m going to return them.” Steve insisted petulantly.

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.” Eddie snorted. Steve rolled his eyes and led them to the front. Their horses were already safe in the back stable, but the door was locked. Steve assisted Aphrodite in going through the open window beside the front door before turning to Eddie, who leapt to the sill before Steve had a chance to offer any help.

“Pull me up!” Eddie leaned out through the window and grabbed Steve’s arms. They fell and landed in a heap atop each other, with Eddie looking up at Steve with a smile. Chest to chest. Heart to heart. There was nothing Eddie loved more.

“How do we always end up like this?” Eddie asked with a smirk. Steve grumbled something incoherent and shoved himself up to his feet. Aphrodite held a hand to her mouth to hold in her laughter.

“Both of you quiet.” Steve demanded, pointing between them.

“I wasn’t even speaking.” Aphrodite argued but went silent, nonetheless. Eddie stood up and repeated her statement. Steve rolled his eyes and looked to the stairs.

“I’ll do a look around upstairs. You two check down here—see if anybody snuck in.” Eddie nodded and headed to the kitchen area.

The house was larger than average for homes back then. It had a small stable and fence outside, and there was an outhouse a few hundred feet away from property. It had a kitchen and dining room, fit with a brick oven and tables, and there was even a living room! The upstairs had three bedrooms for themselves. Steve must have built this place on his own because there was no way in hell a house like this was made otherwise. Eddie knew of the man’s wealthier origins. The money was clearly spent very well, in the bandit’s honest opinion. Then again, Eddie wasn’t the best with money.

He had forty ships in his pirate fleet at one point, not including the ones he’d stolen. If Eddie were any wealthier, he’d be stupid enough to have his own pyramid by now. Hell, he practically owned half of New York!

It was a good thing the wild west didn’t have many appealing shops.

“There’s no one here.” Steve stood straight and spoke at a normal volume once he returned downstairs. Eddie nodded and glanced to Aphrodite, who looked expectedly to Steve. “Right, um, well,” he scratched the back of his head, “there are two bedrooms.” He pointed towards the stairs, “Dee, you can sleep in Wren and Victoria’s. Ed, you can sleep in mine, and I will keep watch.”

Eddie held up a hand, “No, you won’t keep watch. Tonight is your last opportunity for a good night’s rest in these next few days. I’ll keep watch; you sleep.”

“You need sleep too,” Steve argued, crossing his arms.

“I’m not much of a sleeper.”

“Not much of a—everyone sleeps.” Steve scowled about what would be obvious for any normal mortal.

“Not me. You, however, sleep more than—” Eddie stopped himself from saying corpse, “a rock.” Steve squinted his eyes.

“I don’t sleep more than a—what does that even mean?”

“It means, in our entire past few days together, you slept from sunset to well past sunrise. If it weren’t for your nightmares, I’m betting you would’ve slept from sunset to sunset.” Eddie challenged, squinted his eyes, and crossed his arms—mirroring Steve’s stance and expression.

Aphrodite was watching them like a hawk watching a zig-zagging mouse. She rolled her eyes and shoved between them to the stairs. “I will sleep.” She turned around once she was a few steps up, giving her a height advantage, “Steve will sleep, and Ed will keep watch.” She raised a finger to stop expected interruptions, “Trust me, sugar. Ed is the man for the job.” She shushed his rebuttal then walked up the stairs. Steve turned to Eddie.

“Well, if you’re keeping watch, then I’m sleeping here with you.” He pointed to the floor.

“No way, sweetheart.” Eddie’s mind flickered back to Steve groaning and rubbing his neck. Any mortal person would feel so sore after sleeping in the dirt for as long as Steve did. “You’re getting into a bed. I think your spine will break if you do otherwise.”

“I’m not leaving you alone.”

“Then I’ll sit in the room with you.” Steve’s eyes widened, and Eddie raised his hands. “I’ll stay out of your bed, big boy, don’t worry. I’ll only be keeping watch.” Steve seemed hesitant, but he was also, apparently, too tired to argue. He sighed through his nose before nodding. “Fine,” he pointed at Eddie’s nose, “but no funny business!”

“Don’t worry, baby.” Eddie raised his hands, “I only play if asked nicely.” He winked. Steve miraculously didn’t scowl or mutter an insult, too busy dealing with the shock of an escaped yawn. He still flipped Eddie off, but his hand dropped as soon as he reached the steps.

After bidding a good night to Aphrodite, Eddie found his way to Steve’s room. Even if Steve and Wren were a married couple genuinely in love, they would’ve likely still had separate rooms. To sleep in the same bed was only custom for lower class families who couldn’t afford separate rooms or separate beds. However, Eddie still commented on the fact.

“Wren sleeps with Victoria.” Steve surprisingly answered honestly. Eddie was taken aback by this and was smart enough to not pry any further. He found that, when Steve was in a proper mood, he talked on his own. He was prone to go on tangents similar to Eddie, especially when tired, so the bandit was keen on being as patient as possible. “They… they’re lovers.” Steve hesitated but spoke the fact as if commenting on a blue sky.

Eddie had suspected it since first “meeting” Wren. There was still something he was confused on. “You called me a sinner for loving a man.”

Steve clenched his jaw and spoke with an unsure insistence, like he was reciting lines in a play instead of the truth in his heart. “Because you are. Women love women because women are meant to love. Love is an inherently feminine trait. Men are not meant to love men—love anyone; hell, they’re meant to love women only to the point of procreation. Love is for women; men are for biology.”

Eddie refused the temptation to scoff at both the ridiculousness of that statement and the blatant sexism displayed by the man in front of him. “And who told you that?”

The sheriff avoided Eddie’s gaze and stuttered when he answered, “My father.” Steve pulled back the blankets on his bed; nights were cold in the desert. “My father, my mother, and my grandparents. And… they’re…”

“What? They’re right?” Eddie scoffed and stepped toward the bed. He stood on the side opposite of Steve. The sheriff looked back at him when Eddie motioned with his arm and spoke, “Do you actually believe that? Do you truly believe men are not born to love just as we are born to breath?”

“I know most men I’ve met are incapable of the feeling, so it must be.” Steve laid down in a form of a near collapse, displaying the exhaustion the bags beneath his eyes showed. “Men have never shown me love, so it must be so. It must be just as I must bid you a goodnight.” Steve said ‘goodnight’ in a stern and final tone before turning on his side. Eddie walked around the bed to catch Steve’s open eyes.

“You truly expect me to just drop this?” Eddie asked once Steve turned his back to him again.

“I expect you to let me sleep.” He grumbled.

“Gosh, you’re as fickle as the weather.” Eddie remarked. Steve sat up and looked to Eddie.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You… you’re just all over the place. One moment you’re angry, the next you’re happy and kind. One moment you hate me, then the next you hold conflict within yourself because you might like me. You don’t want an alliance, yet you made me swear to not betray you. Tell me, Steven, how could I betray you if we were never working together?” Eddie sat in a nearby chair, leaning to Steve with his eyes squinted.

“This could be a trap. We are, after all, going to one of your hideouts.” Steve pointed out.

Eddie tilted his head with a hum. “Alright then, even if this was a trap, why would my betrayal hurt you?” He squinted, “Why did you beg for me to promise you?”

Steve sighed through his nose, “Because I…”

“Because you might like me? Because you might actually consider me a friend after all this time?” Steve stayed silent, “When are you going to stop being so fickle and so stubborn and admit that you and I are not so different? When are you going to admit that you and I are much more capable of being what our titles suggest—that a bandit and a sheriff could be friends? Just…” Eddie leaned back and crossed his arms, “When are you going to stop being so confusing?”

The other man worked his jaw and ignored Eddie with a huff. Eddie rolled his eyes when Steve laid back down, and he set a lantern on the table beside him to read in the night. Steve suddenly spoke so quietly that Eddie almost missed it. “When you stop confusing me.”

Eddie ignored him, assuming he wasn’t meant to hear that, even if he wanted, deeply, to ask how he could ever be confusing to Steve.

Instead, he grabbed his journal and sat back to draw his sleeping beauty.

*

Eddie stayed watching Steve sleep until Aphrodite suddenly knocked on the door frame. She held up a plate. “They had some vegetables and eggs; here’s some breakfast.” She held out the porcelain disk.

“No thanks.” Eddie said without facing the woman, though he waved an arm over his shoulder.

“Didn’t make it for you, Captain Dumbass.” She entered the room, dragging a chair behind her. It scrapped against the wooden floor with a hideous noise. Eddie scowled her way when, with a snort, she snarked, “By my father, he’s still asleep.” She laughed and poked the edge of his pillow.

“Stop that!” Eddie scolded in a hushed tone and smacked her arm away, “He deserves some rest.”

“Ed, the sun is nearly at its peak. If we want the plan to move forward, he needs to get up.” Aphrodite kicked her feet up on the edge of Steve’s bed, as the man snored lightly. She grabbed a piece of egg and grimaced, as she sat down and took a bite. “The food on Olympus was much better than this shit.” She swallowed just to shudder at the taste.

“Terribly sorry we’re fresh out of figs and olives in the desert.” Eddie replied, dramatizing his tone to sound like a butler.

“Fuck that shit, I miss cheese.” Eddie snorted and crossed his arms. Aphrodite continued eating before she pointed at Steve with her fork. “He’ll think you’re a freak for being in the same position, watching him as you were last night.”

“I am a freak. He found it quite charming in our last life in case you forgot.” He stole a bite of cabbage from her plate and grimaced when it touched his tongue. “Is this rotten?”

“Technically,” Aphrodite tilted her head and ignored the man’s question, “it was only his past life that he found it charming. You’re on the same life until death.” She nudged his shoulder, “Meaning, he’ll definitely just think you’re a freak and bully you.”

“How awful.” Eddie joked sarcastically. “Did you make some food for Steven?” She nodded and tilted her head.

“I’ll get the plate if you wake him up.”

“God, you must think I have a death wish.”

“I know you do.” She stood and left for the kitchen. Eddie turned to Steve and stood. The man had stripped his shirt at some point in the night, showing the other part of his birthmark as a blemish his back parallel to the one on his front. It was just as jagged and dramatic. Eddie wondered if the muscles beneath the flesh were just as discolored, or if the signs of his past life were only superficial.

“Steven.” Eddie muttered, reaching for Steve’s shoulder. Upon contacting the warm skin, Steve gasped awake, turning with wide eyes and parted lips. He relaxed upon realizing it was only Eddie.

“You scared me.” He sighed a breath of relief after scolding the man. “What time is it?”

“Around noon.” Steve’s eyes widened.

“What?!” He threw the blanket off his body and leapt from the bed. “Why would you let me sleep so long?!” He searched the floor for his discarded shirt.

“My adoptive mother used to say that if a person was oversleeping, then it only means they need it.” Eddie shrugged, “Why would I deprave you of something you clearly needed?” It was Christine who used to say that, even if she did always get pissed whenever Eddie slept in past sunrise or, Gods forbid, not sleep at all.

“Adoptive mother?” Steve asked, checking under the bed.

“Did I not tell you of my parents’ deaths?” Eddie rolled his eyes when Steve began checking his covers. He grabbed Steve a new shirt from the dresser in the room and held it out for him.

“You mentioned your mother being killed, don’t remember if you ever mentioned a father, but you certainly never mentioned being adopted.” Steve grabbed the shirt with a frown but a muttered thanks. He threw it over his bare torso, much to Eddie’s disappointment. At least, he hadn’t buttoned the material yet.

Eddie raised his brows, “Well, yes, I was adopted. It wasn’t a true adoption, though.” He smiled in a smug manner, “I ran away from home and was adopted by a pirate.” Steve stopped his frantic movement of finding his shoes to stare at Eddie in bewilderment. When Eddie’s expression remained steady, Steve exhaled sharply.

“Sounds like something straight from a fantasy novel,” Steve commented, grabbing his shoes when he found them by the door. “I didn’t know you also ran away from home.” He didn’t look at Eddie, only down to his feet, and he spoke nonchalantly, like he was talking about the weather. His shaking hands gave away of his true feelings behind the question.

“I had to.” Eddie didn’t wait for Steve to ask further, “My father killed my mother and sister, so I killed my father. They thought I killed them all, so they hunted me.” Eddie looked away, suddenly remembering that this isn’t the Steve so accustomed to his vents and sudden confessions of past crimes and traumas. “I had to.”

It was Steve’s turn to look at Eddie in a fascinating manner. “I had to, too.” He spoke simply. “It wasn’t much of a forced action, but it wasn’t much of a choice either.” He swallowed. “Life or death; we had to run.” He sighed.

“Wren was with you?”

Steve’s head turned a bit towards the hallway then to his chest, where he worked on his shirt’s buttons. “She was who insisted we run. I wanted her to leave—save herself, but she would have sooner doomed herself than leave me.” He shrugged, struggling to properly do his shirt with shaking hands. Eddie stepped forward to assist, apologizing when Steve flinched. Neither stepped away, though, so Eddie helped Steve with his shirt. “Though, I suppose life or death is nothing when you’ve never truly lived.” Steve muttered, as Eddie worked.

“So, you did it for her?” Eddie asked.

Steve hummed, “To save her, so… I guess, we both did it for love, though… well...” Eddie finished the last of the ivory buttons, stained brown by blood and dirt. He kept one hand on Steve’s chest and looked into the man’s starry eyes. Steve gently grabbed Eddie’s wrist. “The love I ran for was not for her, but the love I ran for was never true.”

Eddie furrowed his brow and tilted his chin downwards, as if signaling Steve to continue. When Steve, as stubborn as ever, both dropped his wrist and stayed silent, Eddie tsked. “You may be as lovely as a story, Steven, but I cannot read you. If you wish me to know about your past, then you must tell me.”

Steve actually looked guilty, “I don’t mean to be so confusing. I am trying to tell you more. It’s difficult when I’ve spent so long biting my tongue.” He bit his cheek in thought.

“Then answer me when I ask, what love did you run for, if not for your wife?”

There was that terrified look again—all wide eyed and standing in front of Eddie. He shook his head and whispered, “Not a real love. A sinful kind of love that was never meant to be. That isn’t supposed to be but was.” That script in Steve’s mind written and placed by his father became forgotten for a moment, showing Eddie some truth, albeit a jumbled version of it. “A love that only caused me pain.”

Eddie shoved down his frustration at the riddle in favor of letting the words bounce around his head. Quick to anger and slow to discovery, it took a few moments to allow his mind to catch up. It didn’t take long for a train of thought to enter Eddie’s mind. “You loved a man. You loved Liam.” Eddie had known it from the moment Steve first uttered Liam’s name in the throes of a nightmare, but he never had confirmation. Steve’s hitching breath followed by a trembling sigh was confirmation enough.

“Ed, I—” Steve jumped and tumbled into Eddie, as the man’s words were interrupted by a loud gunshot, then another.

Then, as piercing as the morning light or a shattered glass, Aphrodite screamed.

Chapter Text

March 15^th, 1786

“Murder is born of love, and love attains the greatest intensity in murder.” – Octave Mirbeau

The horses outside shouted and pounded on the ground like drums. Eddie held Steve at arm’s length and stared down the hallway. Another gunshot rang out. Eddie grabbed his gun, and Steve tied his other shoe.

Carrying their guns out in front of them, both men stormed down the wooden steps within Steve’s home. The familiar smell of gunpowder and blood flew through the air. Eddie bounded forward, as Steve stopped in the wide doorway leading to the kitchen. He leaned against the frame, staring down at the dead bodies, as Eddie approached Aphrodite and grabbed her bleeding arm. Three shots occurred, two dead bodies, and one bullet was lodged inside Aphrodite’s bicep. Eddie would’ve shot them three times each if Aphrodite hadn’t already turned them to corpses. Steve stared down at the dead bodies—two men, each looking as vile as the other.

“What the fuck?” Steve finally stuttered out. He’d stumble away if he weren’t already pressed against the frame. He grabbed at his hair and repeated, “What the fuck?!”  

“Bite down.” Eddie shoved a towel into Aphrodite’s mouth. With burning eyes, the woman grabbed the material within her jaw, and she screamed into it as Eddie immediately dug into her bleeding wound. The bullet clattered onto the ground, and Eddie took the towel from the woman’s mouth to press against the hole. “Get me some spirits!” Eddie shouted to Steve, who seemed to suddenly jump from his stupor, nodding with his paled expression.

“They attacked me.” Aphrodite explained with a strained voice. “T-Thought I was Wren.”

“What? You look nothing like Wren.”

“Thanks, you’re so helpful and observational,” Aphrodite sneered, reaching forward with her good arm when Steve brought a full bottle of whiskey. The woman took a large gulp of the auburn liquid before dumping some on her arm. She groaned and cursed, as the liquid mixed with her blood to pour down her arm. “Great Zeus!” she looked to Steve, “Any reason why those men tried to kill me?!”

Steve swallowed and flinched when Aphrodite repeated her question in a much harsher tone. “They weren’t trying to kill you!” He spat out. The ex-goddess raised a brow as a silent prompt for him to continue. “They—they’re bounty hunters.”

“What?!”

“They didn’t want to kill you; they were trying to incapacitate you. They had…” Steve cracked a knuckle, a nervous habit unfamiliar to Eddie. Usually, Steve played with his hair, “My father hired them to get Wren back home and kill me. They’ve been trying for ages, as if I hadn’t spent my whole life exposed to them. It’s not the first time my father’s hired hunters to kill me or someone else; it won’t be the last.” Steve’s jaw clenched and unclenched, and Eddie wondered how Steve could ever listen to a word his father said if that were true. How Steve could believe in the man’s teachings, like the kind describing men being incapable of love, even with knowing the capability to kill hidden beneath his father’s meant to be guiding hand.

Then, Aphrodite asked something that Eddie hadn’t even fathomed, “Did they kill anyone before?”

“Liam?” Eddie asked, a hint of realization in his tone.

“Please, like Liam wouldn’t find a way out of it.” Steve dismissed, shaking his head. “No, he wasn’t hunted—not by them.” There was a heavy weight behind Steve’s words. “I, however, I, they will never give up on. My dad will never give me up.” He turned to Eddie. “They wanted to capture Wren because my father wants to save her. He thinks I somehow poisoned her with my…” He swallowed, “with my sin. The only person he wants dead is me.”

“So, now we have bandits and bounty hunters trying to kill us?” Aphrodite summarized, holding the cloth to her arm, “Brilliant. Just brilliant!” she huffed and glanced at the white cloth quickly turning red like mud. “I need to stitch this.”

“How long do you think we have until more show up?” Eddie helped Aphrodite to her feet before she waved him off, leaving to search for a sewing kit.

Steve shrugged, “A week, probably less. Whenever they realize these guys aren’t coming back and whenever my dad coughs up more money.” Steve glanced at the bodies quickly. He always had a way of acting brave, but his body betrayed him. His face remained stone cold, but his skin was pale, his voice shook, yet his body was so stiff he may as well have been frozen. 

“Well, we won’t be here in a week or less, then.” Eddie decided. “We’ll get your family and not return.” He nodded, making his word final.

“We need our things, and we don’t have time to pack up the whole house before tonight. We’ll have to come back no matter what.” Steve’s voice wavered, as he looked down to see the puddle of blood leaking from one of the bodies lead to his shoe.

“I’ll come back.” Eddie interrupted Steve’s stormy mind.

“What?” Steve looked up from the blood.

“The hideout John took your family to is a hidden villa. It’s got several bedrooms, plenty of storage for food, and has months’ worth of supplies and a stable.” Eddie rolled his shoulders, “We take you and your family in the night, but I’ll stay behind. I’ll pretend they caught me in on some plan, and I’ll lead them back here. You go back to the villa once they’re gone. I get them here, let them get arrested or kill them, kill whatever assholes are trying to kill you and Wren, and then I’ll come back with wagons and all your stuff.” Eddie explained the plan, and Steve looked at him like he was crazy.

“Ed, you’re still a wanted man.” Steve pointed to the wall, suddenly. Eddie frowned before looking over and seeing his own wanted poster pinned to the wall like one would do to dry flowers.

Eddie moved past the strange flattery at the sight to cringe. “Gods, whoever’s drawing these needs to learn what a nose looks like.”

“Ed!”

“Steven!” Eddie snapped back and laughed, shaking his head, “As flattering as it is to see my portrait in your house, and as even more flattering it is to hear that you care, I can handle myself. This isn’t my first rodeo with the law. I’ve escaped jail, I’ve survived being shot, stabbed, and hanged, and I can survive some bandits and bounty hunters. I’ve dealt with far worse.”

Steve looked at Eddie in bewilderment. “And you obsess over my past?” He scoffed, “Mine is a child’s story compared to that.” He waved a hand.

Eddie shrugged, “My story’s been heard a hundred times over a hundred years. Why would I care about my own past when I can care about yours?” He smirked, “Not everyone is so interesting to have bounty hunters coming after them.”

“You have bounty hunters after you. Hell, I was one of them.” Steve’s hand pressed against his chest.

“Just because you want my bounty does not make you a bounty hunter.” Eddie smiled, “Makes you smart. I’d want the money too.” Eddie looks down to the bodies as if remembering they were there. “We need to dispose of these guys before they start to stink. You have pigs?”

Steve’s nose wrinkles, “Pigs? No, why would I have pigs?”

“Well, does anyone in town have pigs?”

“Of course, they—we’re in the desert; livestock is important. Why do we need pigs?”

“Pigs will eat anything, including a dead body.” Eddie bent down and grabbed one of the stiff legs. “We’ll chop these guys up and mix it in their feed later. They’ll eat the bones too.” Eddie bent down to yank at one of the men’s arms, “For now, we just need to hide them.”

Horrified, Steve stutters helplessly, as Eddie drags the men towards the back door. “Wait!” Steve stumbled forward with his hands raised, “Can’t we just, uh, toss them in the desert? We’ve got miles of land to go through; we can just leave them in the dirt.”

Aphrodite, who walked back into the kitchen with a sewing kit and midway stitching her arm, snorted, “He’s better at being a criminal than you, Ed.”

Steve scoffed, “It’s common sense!” Aphrodite shrugged and winced when it tugged at her wound. “It is!”

“Yes, but it’s also a killer’s instinct.” Aphrodite squinted, “You kill anyone, Steven?” Eddie’s head snapped to the goddess, and he saw the seriousness in her expression akin to that of her tone. Eddie looked back to Steve and saw the hardness in his jaw.

“Of course, he has,” Eddie spoke to interrupt Steve’s inner storms. Steve jumped and starred at Eddie with wide eyes, like he knew his secrets. Eddie wished he did. “He’s a sheriff,” Eddie continued, “He has to kill people.” He looked back to Aphrodite with a silent warning to stay silent. She did.

Steve huffed a relieved breath. “Y-yeah,” he nodded and swallowed, “sheriff stuff.” Aphrodite rolled her eyes and stood.

“Come find me when you two are ready to leave. I’ll be fighting off an infection ‘til then.” She poured more alcohol on her wound and cursed, as she walked away.

The two men watched her go back upstairs before Eddie looked to Steve. “Want to tell me what that was about?” He put his hands on his hip.

Steve avoided Eddie’s gaze, cleared his throat, and pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. “I’m going to go, uh, pack some supplies.” He turned around, completely ignoring Eddie’s inquiry.

Eddie sighed and shook his head. It was nothing new—Steve’s stubbornness. That didn’t make it any less frustrating.

Eddie was good at connecting the dots. He had to be. One could never be a criminal of his stature without being good at spotting patterns, especially those indicating danger. While Steve could never seem or be dangerous to Eddie, he could sense the darkness within him. That storm of dark clouds and striking lightning. His ship was dangerously close to sinking—to drowning him where he stood. Eddie couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t.

But he had twelve days left, and that hope from earlier was diminishing like the flame of a long-burning candle.

Twelve days.

March 16^th, 1786

They had left in the night as promised, with Aphrodite dragging a new horse behind them taken from who Steve said was an older woman in town who didn’t even use the beautiful creature, who seemed more than happy to finally roam further than its small gated stable. He had meant to grab two, but the sheriff had apparently chickened out. Didn’t want to be caught.

It was sunrise now, with the orange light in the sky shining down on the three people. Aphrodite’s arm was in a homemade splint of cloth and pieces of wood. Once in a while they’d reach a bumpy terrain, and she’d have a permanent wince in her expression. Eddie offered many times to give her some tobacco or herb to smoke, but she’d only wave him off. “I’ve had worse pain.” It was true, but the sweat on her brow and paleness in her expression showed there was something worse lingering beneath the pain, but she never let Eddie look at her wound.

Aphrodite would never call herself kind nor caring nor selfless, but she was smart. She knew her ailment would be nothing but a distraction, so she bit her cheek and stayed silent, as an infection made its home in her wound.

They rode in silence for the most part, with Eddie occasionally pointing out some debris from travelers long before them, expressing an urge to explore. An urge built over years of being a pirate and bandit; he was always curious. The hot sun beat down on their backs, but they didn’t dare stop less the horses required water from a nearby stream. It wasn’t until the sun had just passed its highest peak to begin its long descent into night that Steve suddenly rode to be just beside Eddie.

“How many people have you killed?” he asked. The question was forced out on a single breath of air, indicating that Steve had been thinking about it for a while and just had to let it go. Eddie looked over to the man then forward. He shrugged.

He didn’t learn to count until he was twenty and had begun taking lessons from Steve. He had been a pirate for nearly decade prior to that, so any victims before meeting Steve went uncounted, remembered only by glimpses of blood splatter and shouts. He knew from some stories that he’d killed tens in a single night, like at Diablo’s Massacre. Otherwise, “I don’t know.” He shrugged, “That’s not something I ever thought to count. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was in the thousands.”

Steve’s breath hitched, “Thou—” he cut his shout off with a sharp exhale, “And how many… I mean, do you feel guilty for them?”

Eddie tilted his head. It was a question not requiring counting or trivia, but it was no easier to answer. “I sometimes mourn their families.” He decided, “I mourn for whoever loved them, but, again, I rarely kill people who don’t deserve it to some degree by my ‘Merry Doctrine’. I guess I should still feel guilty, but for those especially ugly, I don’t.” He glanced to the dirt, where years of bones and dust of those dead are collected just beneath the surface. “I don’t necessarily enjoy killing, but I don’t dislike it either. I do what I do to survive, but I do what I do to help others, and I do what I do to get what I want.”

“That’s contradictory.” Steve thought aloud.

“Perhaps, it is,” Eddie admitted then looked at Steve, “but what are morals if not consistent contradictions?” Steve hummed in response, a line formed between his brows, and Eddie smiled. “What of you?”

“What of me?”

“How many people have you killed?” Eddie raised a hand to stop Steve’s quick action of defense, “Don’t say you haven’t. I may not be the smartest man, but I know the look of a man guilty of spilling blood.”

The air went quiet with Steve’s sharp inhale, silencing even the winds in the desert. “Seven.” He responded. “Four criminals and three…” he cut himself off. “Seven,” he repeated instead.

“And what do you think of it? Killing?”

Steve breathed and glanced to the horizon, where the sun watched over them in its final moments in the day. His close star in the sky, which gave him a much-needed warmth after cold nights in the desert. Eddie hated the cold. Steve was a warmth like the sun, so it made sense that Steve looked to it like a child would look to their mother. Birthed from the sun, saved by the sea, his siren was a child of the earth and sky, despite once living in rot. Eddie was never so lucky, born from darkness, saved by blood, he was a child of the moon, who watched over him only at night, when his thoughts and powers kept him awake. Eddie once enjoyed nights, spending them with Steve, but if Steve was truly birthed from that great, big star, then Eddie could learn to love it for more than warmth and its watchful eye. He could learn to love the day more than night. If only to find Steve in the light the way Steve found him in the dark.

“I don’t like it.” Steve said simply. He stopped his answer there, not clarifying any more than he felt needed to. He didn’t say why he killed or how, but Eddie was fine. Whatever crumbs he could get he’d take. No matter how painful it was to see the way Steve’s eyes teared up at whatever memories haunted his stormy mind.

They rode in mostly silence, talking about the little things that crossed their mind. Steve was more open to talking to Eddie for some odd reason, evident by his bright eyes. It was a nice change from the conflicted avoidance of eye contact or short-tempered statements from before.

Eddie may not age and may have a near perfect memory, but he does not remember much of the trip. He remembers Steve and his discussion about the morals around killing. He remembers the way the golden sun made Steve’s hair shine whenever he graced Eddie by removing his hat. Above all, however, he remembers the way Aphrodite’s horse suddenly ran ahead of Eddie and Steve, as if something had spooked him. Eddie looked back to spot the goddess on the ground, pale and slick with sweat.

“Dee?!” Eddie shouted, turning Shadowmere around. Steve quickly followed suit, stopping beside where Eddie was now kneeling at the woman’s side.

“What happened?” Steve asked after jumping off his own horse. Eddie barely heard him, too busy staring at Aphrodite’s arm, where the bandage was completely soaked through with blood. Eddie, ignoring Aphrodite’s moans of refusal, peeled back the bloody cloth to reveal where she had poorly stitched up her bullet wound. It was yellow and leaking this white liquid. An infection. A bad one at that.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Eddie scolded, as he reached to his waistband to grab his flask. The woman weakly groaned through clenched teeth, as rum was poured onto her wound like water. Eddie splashed a new handkerchief with the liquid and pressed it to the wound. She shook her head.

“No time…” she muttered.

“What?” Eddie wiped the white gunk surrounding the wound. There aren’t many similarities between the 18^th century and the 20^th in terms of lethal threats, but one risk no matter the year are infections. A bad infection, in both eras, could kill you in a matter of hours. The difference is that the modern world has the privileged invention of penicillin—antibiotics. Back then, an infection was a written death sentence. You could try your best to fight it, but it would be like fighting off a dragon, but at least a dragon may guarantee a quicker death.

“You’ve got eleven days, Ed. Don’t worry about me…” She glanced towards Steve, seemingly looking right beyond him, then looked back to Eddie. “You know what you have to do. You don’t need my help. Not in this life.” Her breath was heavy and labored. She was burning to the touch—far hotter than even the desert sun to allow, yet she was shivering.

“Will I see you again?” Eddie didn’t need to clarify.

“If you succeed, you won’t.” She smiled softly. “If you fail, I’ll see you again.”

“I won’t fail.” Eddie spoke defensively—a force of habit from correcting her whenever she said ‘if’ instead of ‘when’. Eddie never liked ifs. He didn’t like the chance of not getting what he wanted. It was a naïve preference but one he had, nonetheless. He had to succeed. He had to save Steve; it wasn’t an if. It was a when. When he saves Steve, he will finally find peace. That was what he always believed and what he held like a lifeboat.

“If you fail, I’ll see you again.” She repeated, ignoring Eddie’s petulant response. She winced and let her head loll to the side. “Fuck, usually it doesn’t take so long to die.” She laughed and coughed, “This hurts.”

In her last life, she died in her sleep. Before then, she got shot in the head. Before that, drowned. Before that, eaten by a snake (she was a mouse in that life). None of her deaths had ever been this long. She whispered that fact to Eddie, who leaned back and tilted his head to the side. A silent question to which she responded with a nod. “Don’t want to waste any more time than I already have.”

If it were anyone else, Eddie would have refused. But he’d known Aphrodite for a hundred years. He knew she wouldn’t want her death any other way. He knew, if she could, she would thank him for doing what he had to do. So, he didn’t hesitate, as he reached for his pistol. It was only Steve grabbing his arm which stopped him. “Wait, we—what are you doing?!” he demanded, staring at the gun like it was aimed at him and not the woman on the ground.

“She’s in pain, Steven.” Eddie responded carefully, like Steve was a child. Like he didn’t understand death as a permanent but sometimes necessary thing.

“We can take her to the doctor—”

“It’s too late.” Eddie cocked his revolver with near deafening clicks. “Look away if you must, but I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t have to.”

Aphrodite has always been a likeable person—comes with the territory of being the goddess of love, but Eddie knew Steve’s heart was not breaking purely for reasons of magic and myth. Steve was always kind, always caring, and always hesitant to kill. At least, that’s what Eddie wanted to believe. He wanted to believe that Steve didn’t think Aphrodite deserved to die despite her being a criminal. He wanted to believe that Steve was crying not for the loss of a bounty but for the loss of a potential friend. He wanted to believe that Steve was as immune to Aphrodite’s charms as Eddie, even if only one of them had the powers to do so.

Steve did end up looking away, flinching and letting out a pained noise when the gunshot rang through the air. The sound had nothing to echo against, but Eddie heard the noise bounce around his skull. The gun was still smoking when he put it back in his belt. The woman’s blood stained the dirt and dust, as the horses jumped in surprise but remained steady, luckily used to the sounds of guns.

“Should be pray?” Steve asked hesitantly after turning back around.

Eddie couldn’t help but snort, “She wasn’t religious.” He dismissed, “And she never liked prayers… not the ‘amen’ type.” Steve’s face was the curious kind, and Eddie dropped his smile, remembering it wasn’t normal to smile after losing a friend, even if you knew the friend would only resurrect come the next year. Then again, Eddie planned to never see her again if he could help it—if he succeeded in saving Steve.

“Bye, Dee.” He settled on, not having the time nor energy for other emotions. The look of confusion never left Steve’s expression. Not when Eddie tied Dee’s horse to his own nor when they set off again.

“I do love her.” Eddie finally defended himself when they were a few hours further into their trek. Steve looked his way. “I love her, but I’ve lost a lot more than just her. It’s easy to move on when death feels less like a knife and more like a bee sting.”

“I’ve never been stung by a bee,” Steve responded after a while.

“But you’ve lost?”

Steve tilted his head, “Yes, I have.” He looked to Eddie, “But not with much pain—not a knife, I mean.”

Eddie hums in response.

He’d be lying if he said that journey to rescue Steve’s family was an exciting one. The desert, though beautiful most hours of the day, can grow monotonous after a while. The sun turns from a pleasant source of warmth into an annoying, sweat-inducing flame. The dirt coats sweaty skin, leaving it an uncomfortable texture. The crunch of sand in Eddie’s teeth grew far too familiar in that time. Such a boring time, but hours to days he enjoyed, nonetheless. He never intended to leave Aphrodite a corpse in the dirt, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t appreciate the alone time it earned with Steve. The talks about nothing and everything. Viewing the stars as they slept. Eddie pointed out constellations while Steve talked about the myth behind each one, and Eddie pretended not to know if only to hear Steve’s voice for that much longer.

It was those nights that were Eddie’s favorite of their trip. It was the first night which would especially stay in Eddie’s mind for a long time. For years, working as his source of comfort on the lonely nights of the following century until he would finally meet Steve again.

“Your husband…” Steve began, interrupting his own story of Persephone and Hades, “How did you meet him?”

 “It’s not a nice story,” Eddie warned, but Steve merely stayed silent, raising a single brow. A sigh through his nose and a shuffle to a better position: Eddie faced his love. “He was being held captive by a very cruel, evil man. I had gone to do a business deal and heard my husband through the floors. I went down in this cellar and found him chained to the wall.” He shrugged, “To say I fell in love upon first sight would be an understatement. To say I wanted to protect him from any other forms of pain would be a mere line in the sonnets I could write of him.” He swallowed, “I loved him and will love him forever.”

“The evil man?” Eddie could tell Steve already knew the answer. What surprised him was how interested Steve looked—how his eyes slightly darkened, and he leaned toward Eddie in anticipation.

The bandit smirked, “Gave him a slow, painful death as soon as I got my husband to safety. A death that was the envy of the devil.” Steve exhaled softly. “What?” Eddie prompted like he didn’t know.

“I just…” Steve bit his lips, “The stories I’ve read talk of the kind of love that I thought impossible. To kill or die for another is something… something I’ve thought impossible until I met you.” He frowned. “You killed Dee. You killed your friend because she was suffering; you didn’t kill her for cruel reasons. You killed her because you loved her enough to not keep her in pain. And you killed that man for hurting someone you barely knew—love at first sight or not.” Steve sighed. “I just…”

“You want that kind of love?”

“I would die for Wren. Kill for her.” He shook his head, “I know she would not do the same for me. I know no one in my life would ever do the same for me, but you talk of killing for love like it’s the simplest thing.” His lower lip shook. “I never thought such love possible. Not from anyone but myself. I thought myself evil for feeling such a way, but you…” Steve swallowed, “You’re so cruel. You’re so evil. You’re a criminal… but you love. You love unabashedly, and I just don’t understand it.”

Eddie had a suspicion a lack of sleep and slight dehydration was to blame for Steve’s sudden honesty. “How did you meet Wren?”

Steve seemed taken aback by the question. “We’ve known each other since we were children.” He sniffed. “She’s been my best friend since prep school. My wife for a few years. There isn’t a meeting story.”

“And Liam?” Eddie tagged on.

This time, Steve didn’t seem surprised. He seemed… guilty, like Eddie caught him with his hand in the cookie jar. “Same as Wren. He was one of the maid’s sons; that boy I called Luther in an earlier story. We had been friends since we were children.” He didn’t say anything more than that, but he did look back up at the stars to avoid Eddie’s gaze.

“Would you have died or killed for him?”

“I have.” He responded, making Eddie’s eyes widen subtly. “And I shouldn’t have.” He continued unprompted, finally looking to Eddie. “I lied when I said I didn’t like Romeo and Juliet.” Eddie didn’t speak—didn’t dare to out of fear of ruining this moment. “I loved that play. I loved it so much that Wren, Liam, and I used to act out scenes in my bedroom. I’d be Juliet, Liam would be Romeo, and Wren would be all the other characters—always insisted on it.” His voice was weak and rushed. “We never thought anything of it until my father found Liam and I… we were practicing the last scene. We were kissing. A simple touch of lips against each other—completely innocent.” His voice broke, and he had to pause to collect himself. “My father didn’t touch Liam but didn’t hesitate to lay a fist on me. He said I was vile. He said I—I was disgusting. He said that no boy should ever kiss another boy—that it was a sin. I told—I told him that Wren kissed a girl, because she had. Wren was always… Wren is like you. She loves unabashedly, but she doesn’t love me like you or me. She loves women. My father—” he scoffed, “—that was when he told me that girls can’t help but love girls. That love is a womanly emotion but shan’t ever be something felt by men.”

Steve glanced at Eddie, making sure he was keeping up. Eddie hung onto every word. A fact that seemingly made Steve relax a bit—only a bit. “Did Liam… did he still get into trouble?”

With a small but bitter smile, Steve shook his head. “My father tried to hit him, but I insisted it was my idea. I insisted I had kissed him, and he had no idea what was going on. It only made my father angrier at me. That’s all I wanted; I wanted to protect Liam. I didn’t care what happened to me.” Steve spoke like a curse, spitting in anger. “But Liam never cared what happened to me.” He worked his jaw with a bitter expression.

“What happened?” Eddie asked, tilting his head to catch Steve’s eye. “Steven?”

“Years passed, and Liam and I never stopped kissing.” His blushed shamefully, “It was wrong. It wasn’t allowed, but we did it. A—and when my father found out, he…” Steve’s lip wobbled, “Liam had insisted I was forcing him to do it. That I was paying him and blackmailing him with threats to fire his mother. I wasn’t. I—I would never do that, but my father believed him.” He scoffed, “My father would’ve believed the Devil over me if given the chance.

“After Liam told him that, my father decided it was time… it was time for me to man up. To get married. To—to have the life he always wanted for me.” Tears slipped past the man’s lower lash line. “Wren was always meant to be my wife. Her parents and mine planned it since the moment we were born. Neither of us wanted that, but we didn’t have a choice. We were young. We needed our parents’ money. We needed support. When we realized we couldn’t get out for it, we had made a promise. We said we’d never sleep together. We’d never treat each other as a married couple behind closed doors. We were friends. Nothing more or less.”

“You had a child together,” Eddie pointed out, figuring Steve’s long stretch of silence was an indication that he needed an extra push.

Steve’s face crumbled. A painful squeak left his throat, and he shook his head. “It wasn’t common in our town but, if requested, the parents of the husband had a right to watch… to watch the consummation to make sure the bride was a virgin.” Eddie bit his tongue to trap his sharp exhale. “In reality, he just wanted to make sure I would fuck her. He wanted to make sure I was capable of growing our family’s legacy. Wren and I had no choice, so we did what he asked. She was high on sleeping pills, and I was damn near the drunkest I’ve ever been, but we did it.”

“And she got pregnant?”

With a nod, Steve whimpered. “I raped her. I was forced to impregnate her, and we have lived with the consequence ever since.” He cried, finally letting his voice waver from his previously strong tone. “But then, then she fell in love with her nurse maid, and I couldn’t just let her suffer in our marriage without having some true love. Not when I know what it’s like to fall in love and lose it.

“Wren and Victoria had a secret affair, and I covered for them.” He sniffed. “I got a job working with my father, and we bought our own house to keep our lives a secret. Nobody expected anything. They believed Victoria was simply our maid to help around the house. But” he swallowed, “then my mother came for a surprise visit and discovered them in bed together.”

Eddie grabbed Steve’s hand, squeezing it twice when Steve’s breath began to pick up. “They blamed me,” He cried. “They said my homosexuality was rubbing off on her—th-that she was forced to love another woman because I was not attracted to her. So, when my father found out, he-he asked for Liam to…” Steve gasped, “He said the only way for us both to be cured is if I saw Liam with a woman, and if Wren was shown w-what a real man was like.”

“My Gods…” Eddie didn’t need it spelled out for him, but it was clear that Steve was on a roll. He needed to get this out just as much as Eddie wanted to hear it, no matter how heartbreaking it was.

“He raped her. He raped her while my father watched, and I was tied to a chair. Victoria was protecting our son back home. He impregnated her just as I had, and we realized the town was no longer safe. We packed our things. We moved quietly, silently, but Oliver had told his schoolteacher that he wasn’t going to be taking any more lessons. She told my family, and that’s when my father hired those—those assassins.” He laughed, “I didn’t even know New York had those kinds of people, but they did, and my father sent a hoard after us. After me. He said I was still corrupting Wren, and the only way to save my family, our son, even Victoria, was to kill me. Give Wren freedom and let our son be the new heir. So, I left on my own. Took myself out of the equation so they wouldn’t go after Wren. We wrote letters, and she insisted on joining me; that’s when she moved to Fool’s Gold. I suppose, I ‘corrupted’ her too much.”

“You didn’t corrupt her,” Eddie insisted.

“I know that.” Steve scoffed. “Love is a womanly emotion; it only makes sense for them to love each other. No, what I did was corrupt myself. I couldn’t fix myself enough to be a real man, to be someone that Wren could love.” Steve looked at Eddie, “A woman can love whoever they want, but a man cannot love. Man is incapable. Therefore, I am not a real man.” He finally looked back to the sky. “I love too much.”

Eddie wanted to run to New York and put his blade through the neck of every person who ever hurt him. Eddie wanted to erase the memories from Steve’s mind. He wanted to hold Steve. Wanted to scream to the heavens about the love he feels. Wanted to scream of the love man has shown in each life. The love of friends, of family, of the gods, and of Steve. Instead, he reached forward to gently turn Steve’s face and look into his eyes.

“The duality of man is beautiful.” Eddie said simply. “To love and to hate are two sides of man’s coin.” He pointed upwards. “To love is to know someone more than you know yourself, like the constellations in the sky. To hate someone is to stoke a flame in your heart. Anger and love both come from the heart. To love is to die for someone. To hate is to burn for someone. Kill for someone. Kill whoever brought pain. Hate whoever brings pain—whoever makes the world ugly. Hate because you love so deeply. Hate because you would die for someone. Hate because the world is cruel to those who love, but love is still beautiful. Even if the world tends to hate it.”

“I can’t…”

“Did Orion not love Artemis?” Eddie continued. “Do poets not love to write? Did Shakespeare not love those he wrote inspired works about? Did the painters of the Renaissance not love each of their muses? Did they not worship the bodies they recreated? Did they not love with every fiber of their being?”

“Love is—”

“Beautiful. It takes such bravery to love. Such strength to look at another person and to devote your life to them.” Eddie shook his head, “It doesn’t matter if you are a man or a woman; loving someone is the strongest thing you could do. Because with love comes hate, comes loss, comes grief, comes pain… otherwise, everyone would do it. They’d love just as much as you. Just as much as me.”

“Why must it hurt?” Steve asked. “Why must it be this painful?”

Eddie shrugged. “Because life is pain, but love is what makes us live.” He sighed, “You just gotta find someone worth living for, someone worth fighting for, dying for, and killing for, someone worth hurting for, and you’ve done it. You’ve truly lived.”

“Ed?” Steve whispered into the night after they had propped up a single tent and laid side by side beneath the cloth. This was far after their initial conversation, nearly midnight.

“Yes, Steven?” Eddie turned to look at him. Steve’s arms rested on his stomach, and his brows were furrowed.

“How do I know when I’ve found someone worth it? I mean, found someone worth dying and living for?”

Eddie smiled, thinking back to the first time he ever saw Steve. “You know when their pain becomes yours, and you’d do anything to protect them from it.” He looked over, and Steve looked back without hesitation. “You know when you know.”

Steve had smiled back, but there was sadness in his eyes. Something nostalgic or perhaps melancholic. Eddie had assumed it was due to his past. He assumed that Steve was simply wishing for love to be easier. He was always weak around Steve, and his gut was always wrong.

Because someone who is guilty can easily be mistaken for someone who feels regret. And Steve, while regretting the life he was dealt with, was not feeling regret in that moment. And he was indeed very guilty.

But that wasn’t something Eddie fathomed that night. He wasn’t focused on the future nor the past because, while Steve and he stared at one another, there was something beneath the guilt. Something quiet and yearning. Something Eddie hadn’t seen for a long time but could recognize in the dark.

When Steve’s lips met Eddie’s for the first time in a century, it was like coming home. It was every drug tried in a single moment. It was heaven.

It was rediscovering someone worth living and dying for.

Chapter Text

March 17^th, 1786

“’It was a mistake,’ you said. But the cruel thing was, it felt like the mistake was mine, for trusting you.” – (The Lover’s Dictionary) David Levithan

Eddie had allowed Steve to rest, as he took charge in watching for the fires in the distance to go out. His ex-colleagues were always night owls, like Eddie, but they were heavy sleepers once they did doze off, and they slept until the sun was far above the horizon in a fashion similar to Steve. Eddie once appreciated their time spent awake, keeping him company to talk around the fire until he’d be faced with a night spent awake. Nothing but the moon to keep him company, that was when his thoughts raced the most and his storms got the loudest.

When the flames in the distance finally dimmed then went out, Eddie knew it was time to make haste. Normally in the desert, the flames would burn all night to fight off the cold, but there was a building to take refuge in at this particular base—one where they had decided Steve’s family would hide in while Eddie lead the other bandits away. They would hide until Eddie came back with their belongings and hopefully the heads of some assassins if he were to run into more.

“Steven.” Eddie shook the man’s shoulders. He groaned and turned around, batting Eddie away until the bandit shoved him fully. Somehow, he still moved slow, albeit actually getting up this time.

“Morning already?” He asked groggily, face twisted and confused. Eddie fondly rolled his eyes.

“They’ve gone to bed.” Eddie pointed towards the distance, where the fires completely dimmed into nothing but darkness. “It’s time to move.”

They left the horses tied to posts, ones that were crossed over one another and carved into crossbones—a mark known only by Eddie that signaled each of his hideaways. Once Steve and his family would go back, they’d take the horses and hide far beyond the refuge, leaving only Shadowmere to provide transport for Eddie.

Steve was oddly quiet while they cleaned up their campsite. Eddie wondered if it was due to their kiss, thinking it might’ve ruined things between them. He knew it wasn’t that only when Steve offered a quick kiss to his cheek when Eddie handed him a water flask he’d forgotten to store away. Even then, the man was quiet, deep in thought.

“What if you stayed with us?” Steve suggested suddenly and shakily, as he finished up tightening the backs on Lydia’s saddle. “We won’t attack them and only take my family. We’ll leave a note, let them think you’re going back, then come with us. They’ll be arrested. We can go back ourselves. We can—”

“Risk your lives at the hands of those hunters?” Eddie scoffed, “I don’t think so, darling.”

“Please?” Eddie frowned.

“I’m not risking your life, and, besides, you need the bounty—”

“I don’t give a shit about the money if it means risking your life.” Steve insisted. “You’re wanted too. You lead them back to Fool’s Gold; you’re at just as much risk as them. If not, more.” He sighed then pleaded, “Just write a note—”

“They can’t read—”

“Then tie one of them up! Leave one as a witness, tell him you’re going back like we originally planned but then stay with us.” Steve’s eyes were frantic.

“Why are you so against this? You were fine with our plan just a few days ago.” Eddie’s heart pattered at the potential answer. One he dreaded and hoped for because, if it’s true, if Steve…

“That was before I kissed you.” Steve muttered; his voice thick. “That was before our talk. That was before I realized the true potential of… of…” He swallowed, “Something more. Something worth fighting for. Something worth it all.” Eddie scoffed, couldn’t help it.

“I’m coming right back here, Steven.” He smiled and grabbed the man’s hand, “Trust me, now that I’ve finally got you, I’m not leaving you behind.” He tilted his head toward the camps, “I’ve killed men ten times the power of these guys. I’ve survived wars and battles they could never dream of; I’ll come back to you.” Steve opened and shut his mouth. There was a storm beyond those eyes. Something scared. Something that wanted to break free. Eddie smiled in a comforting manner and interrupted whatever argument Steve was likely forming in his mind. “Now, come on.” Eddie tilted his head, “Let’s go save your family.”

Eddie stood before Steve could utter another word, and the sheriff had no choice but to follow him. It was exciting, working with Steve for the first time in a century. Last time they’d done something like this, it was on the seven seas with swords. Now, they’re in the dry desert far from any ocean, and their pistols lined their belts instead of blades. Well, Eddie still carried a sword, but Steve had only a gun.

“Once we get the reward money for turning these guys in, you could pay off the assassins.” Eddie pointed out, “Say that they killed you and Wren died. That way, you don’t have to stay in Fool’s Gold for too long.” Eddie shrugged, “It’s what I would do.”

“You wouldn’t kill them?”

“Alright, I admit it’s the second option of what I would do.” He turned his voice into a hushed whisper, as he reached the rope ladder leading up the side of the cliff. There was an easier means of entrance, of course, but this one was more discrete. “Though this is a much better plan. After all, killing them could risk sending more. Otherwise, at most, I’d kill one or two to intimidate the others into listening.” He paused to look over and smile at Steve before hoisting himself up the ladder.

He has to confess; he had no idea his “friends” even knew of this hideout. Sure, he had taken them here a few times, but it wasn’t marked on any of his maps and well secluded. Even Aphrodite admitted she always got lost in the desert without Eddie there to guide her, yet they were able to find the hideout with ease. It made Eddie seethe with anger and embarrassment for not keeping his secrets better hidden.

There was no use in making his frustrations known, as they had much bigger fish to fry. The hideout had a few entrances, but they snuck to a side door which led to a small dining room. Eddie picked the lock and let himself go in first, keeping his knife raised just in case he was wrong about the other criminals being sleep. He found them all in the largest room of the settlement. The three bandits once considered Eddie’s coworkers were lying in hammocks hanging from the rafters. Well, Mato and John were. Benjamin had taken it upon himself to take the only bed in the establishment, which was usually where Eddie slept coming here on his own. Aphrodite otherwise always got the bed, as she didn’t have the luxury of a life free of arthritis, soreness, and other pains of not sleeping in a good spot.

Benjamin was the lightest sleeper, so they went after him last. Eddie went for John, while Steve went after Mato. John snored soundly, as even a bull couldn’t wake the man up most nights. Steve tied Mato up, while Eddie tied John. Benjamin, meanwhile, had begun to stir. Eddie nodded towards Steve, who moved to stand behind the man with his handcuffs out. The sheriff nodded once he was ready, and Eddie grabbed John’s flask and splashed Benjamin with some whiskey.

The man gasped awake and scrambled to his feet. Steve immediately wrapped his arms around Benjamin, handcuffing his hands behind his back and knocking him to his knees. Benjamin sneered and looked to Eddie; his face of rage, like a fearful dog, softened into something still mad but not quite as fearful. He huffed and shook his head, “Damn sleep spell.”

For context, normally bandits aren’t such heavy sleepers, but with someone like Eddie watching over them, they had learned to sleep in. They had learned to trust being unconscious. Benjamin was the exception, being a lighter sleeper due to years of experiencing something Eddie could never dream of understanding. It’s why Steve now struggled to hold him, while Eddie knelt to his level.

“What the fuck is wrong with you guys?” Was Eddie’s first question. “Kidnapping Steven’s family like that?”

Benjamin laughed. His tongue pressed against one of his canines, as he laughed and shook his head. “Please, like you didn’t betray us.” He leaned back, forcing Steve to lean with him to look at the sheriff’s face, “Like you two weren’t going to kill us first.” He leans back forward. “That’s the plan, isn’t it? To kill us, get our bounty…”

“We couldn’t give a shit about your bounty.” Eddie put on his own laugh. “As if I don’t have more money than all of the West combined. As if Steven here doesn’t have plenty saved up.” He smiled at Steve. “No, here’s what’s going to happen. Steven and I are going back to Fool’s Gold and, if you three know what’s good for you, you won’t follow. Got it?”

“Go to hell.” Benjamin spits.

“Oh, don’t be fooled by my mercy. You follow, and you’ll find yourself knocking on death’s door far sooner than I.” Eddie looked at Steve and nodded. Steve knocked the man out with the butt of his gun then stood.

“Let’s get out of here.” He turned around just for Eddie to go in the opposite direction, “What are you doing?”

“Just in case I’m wrong, and they value their lives more than they want to kill me, then this will give them more incentive.” Eddie rounded a corner in the wooden house of the hideout. He scoffed once he found the stash, partially left open by John, if he had to guess. Only John could be idiotic enough to leave the door ajar.

Inside was only a fraction of Eddie’s wealth; big enough to impress his fellow bandits but small enough that, come the likelihood of his colleagues robbing him, losing it wouldn’t make a dent in the rest of his fortune.

“Holy shit.” Steve exhaled sharply, staring at the chests of gold, land deeds, and paper trails. “How the hell did you get all this?” he walked past Eddie and ran his hands through some coins. He let them slide through his hand and back to the pile. “Why not use this to pay off the assassins?”

“That’s the surprise, darling.” Eddie smiled and tossed a sack Steve’s way, “The bounty will pay off the assassins;” he pulled out his own bag, “this is to help you and your family escape. Get that life of luxury you guys left behind.” He smiled, “Live and not just survive, right?”

Steve held the sack in pinched fingers in front of him. He stared at Eddie while mindlessly picking at the loose hems. “Come on, we didn’t knock out the others. I wanna be gone by the time John sees this.” Eddie shook his head, “Though, I’d hate to miss the look on his face!”

“Yeah, sure,” Steve laughed awkwardly, trailing off and shifting his expression into a slight grimace.

They left no less than half an hour later, carrying two bags each of Eddie’s treasures. They didn’t leave, leave. Obviously not, not with Steve’s family still somewhere in the hideout. Luckily, Eddie, unlike his colleagues, wasn’t an idiot. There weren’t many hidden rooms in the hideout besides the main bedrooms and stash rooms, which were empty. That left the stables.

“Quiet!” Steve whispered.

“We’re not sneaking around anymore, Steven!” Eddie laughed, finally unlocking the front door of the stable house with his key. “We just need to find Wren and—” Eddie cut himself off with a yelp and a groan, as something—someone—suddenly knocked him to the ground. The room was dark, but the light of the moonlight provided enough to see the glint of something sharp and metallic. Eddie rolled to the side before a pitchfork could pierce his arm.

“Wren, stop!” Fire from an oil lamp illuminated the space, and Eddie saw Steve holding the pitchfork from his wife’s hands. Oliver was hiding behind who Eddie assumed to be Victoria, clutching the woman’s skirt with shaking hands. The boy looked like Steve, with brown hair and wide eyes. Victoria had long red hair and red skin from the sun. Her eyes darted between Eddie and Steve.  

“Steven?!” Wren shouted, realizing the man was with the criminal she attempted to skewer. “Why are you with Dead Ed?!”

“We’re here to rescue you,” Steve responded, as if it was obvious. “You didn’t think I’d just leave you behind, huh?” He leaned the pitchfork against a nearby wall before helping Eddie off the ground. Wren watched the two like a hawk.

“You left us behind before.” She challenged, “Where the hell were you?! We thought you were dead!” She walked forward, and for a moment Eddie thought she was going to hit Steve—Steve flinched as if it were true, but she hugged him instead. “You stupid hubble-bubble.” She whispered into his shoulder.

“That’s my fault.” Eddie spoke once she pulled away. Wren sneered his way. “I may or may not have kidnapped him.” He shrugged when Wren’s jaw dropped, “I’m not good at communicating.”

“Not good at rescuing either,” Victoria spoke, “considering we’re still here.” She grabbed Wren’s arm and rushed them forward. “I assume you have horses?” The stables were empty—the only smart choice that Eddie’s bandit crew made, apparently. Taking away the family’s means of escape.

“Yeah, we’ve got horses.” Steve pointed outside before bending down, “Hi, Oli!” He greeted his son with open arms.

“That’s the man from your posters.” Oliver pointed up at Eddie with a small hand, while he sucked on the thumb of his other.  Eddie looked at Steve with a smirk, while Steve blushed.

“Uh, yes, it is. He’s here helping me. We’re going to get you out of here, Oliver.” Steve smiled, “But I bet you were really brave, right?”

Oliver nodded quickly and aggressively—in the way only kids know how. “I cut myself and didn’t even cry!” he held up his other hand to show a scratch on his palm.

“Aw, that looks like it hurts buddy.” Wren patted his back and tilted her head while Steve was distracted. Steve’s eyes widened, as he suddenly remembered the entire goal of the night and turned back. “Tell you what, you can tell me all about it later. We’ve got a long ride back, okay?”

“Okay, Pop.” As if on cue, the young boy yawned and raised his arms. Steve bent down and hoisted the boy up to sit on his hip. The boy slouched against the sheriff’s shoulder with his eyes shut.

“He’s cute.” Eddie tilted his chin up once the kid’s breathing turned into soft snores. He shut the stables behind him and headed towards their several horses tied over the hill. They walked low to the ground and spoke in whispers, even if Oliver was the only one at risk to wake up. “He looks like you.”

“He has Wren’s eyes.” The sheriff responded, fixing his hold on his son. “My hair, Wren’s eyes, my nose, Wren’s chin, and my face.” He recited, “At least, that is what Wren insisted when he was born.”

They reached a side of the hill, where Wren and Victoria stopped in their tracks. “She’s too heavy; we can’t go up there.” Victoria whispered, glancing between Eddie and Wren’s round belly. “Is there another way?” She asked louder. It was then Eddie realized she had a French accent, an origin further proved by Wren whispering something in French and the woman responding.

“I shall get a horse and bring it down?” Eddie suggested before the women finished their quiet conversation, pointing up the hill. Steve tried to argue, but Wren quickly agreed in his place.

“Yes!” She rushed before clearing her throat, “Best if you get the horse.” Eddie was not the best with people, but he could tell when someone was weary of him. Wren didn’t trust him; a fact that Eddie had no trouble with. What was more suspicious was the way Wren and Steve were avoiding his and each other’s gaze by the time he came back atop of Shadowmere and dragging the three other horses behind him.

“Is everyone alright?” He asked. Wren flinched and looked up at Eddie. He had carried down a lantern with him, and he could barely see the shine of tears on her cheeks. “Wren?”

“We’re okay.” Steve answered for her. Eddie frowned and tilted his head. “She’s just tired. I told her the plan and about the bounty hunters; she was hoping to go home.” He smiled awkwardly.

“Well, you’ll be able to visit back home soon, just as soon as those hunters leave, yes?” Eddie smiled, unaware of what was to come. Wren’s face twisted into something sad.

“You’re very kind for helping us, Ed…” she trailed off.

“Ed Merry.” Eddie hopped off his horse to properly take the woman’s hands. He kissed her knuckles and stood straight. “Dead Ed is just a nickname.”

“Ed Merry.” She shook his hand, “it’s nice to meet you.”

“Wren Henderson, it is nice to meet you too.” Wren had soft hands and an even softer smile. When Eddie first saw her, he had assumed he would never find himself able to be kind—not to the one married to his love, but she was easy to like. She, like Steve, had the kindest eyes and the kindest smile, and she didn’t look at Eddie like a criminal. There was not an ounce of cruelty in her, albeit some trepidation, so Eddie couldn’t ever be anything but kind. Not to Wren. “This is Victoria.”

“Victoria, nice to meet you.” Eddie shook the woman’s hand and kissed her knuckles all the same. She had kind eyes like Wren, but she was nervous. She certainly didn’t trust Eddie, and Eddie didn’t blame her. Nor did he blame her for trying to stop him from leaving once he began riding ahead. She went as far as to run beside him while Steve and Wren were turning back.

“Ed, wait!” She shouted. He slowed to a stop, trying to ignore the slowly rising sun.

“I don’t have time, Victoria. I must go!” he insisted, stopping only when she forced her horse to stand in front of his.

“You can’t. Please, Steven won’t forgive himself. You cannot go ahead!” Victoria was clearly struggling with English in that moment, too tired and too stressed. Eddie didn’t know that much French—none at all, actually.

“You will all be safe. I give you my word.” Eddie promised, holding a hand to his heart.

Veronica stared behind him, and Eddie followed her gaze to where Steve and Wren were standing on their horses. They were arguing. “Victoria!” Wren eventually shouted and waved a hand. Oliver, who was sitting with his father, woke up and began to cry. Victoria, having no other option, turned her horse back to her family, but she stopped a moment to level Eddie with a look.

“Don’t go back,” She pleaded, tears in her eyes.

Eddie wishes he wasn’t so stubborn. Yes, he has many flaws, and some may consider stubbornness as an antithesis of a flaw, but Eddie’s form of the trait was flawed. While he was stubborn in always wanting things to go his way—in having certain rules—in behaving a certain way, his stubbornness was only an issue when it came to his sudden and undying optimism. You would think after centuries of losing the ones he loved he wouldn’t be so optimistic, but he was. Hope left Eddie’s life the day his mother and sister died but returned the moment Stephen Howards stepped into his life, and, despite all that has happened, that hope refused to die. That optimism—so poisonous and dangerous—stains like blood on white cloth.

That optimism clouded his judgement that day, as he watched Victoria leave. Something was wrong. He knew something was wrong, and if Aphrodite were still alive, she would’ve smacked his head and shown him what was wrong, but Eddie was too stubborn. To him, his plan was working. To him, he was going to save Steve and his family from any hunters, bandits, and other worldly issues coming their way.  Eddie was too optimistic. Too naïve. Too blinded by love to realize that Victoria was never scared of him. Wren was never scared. Oliver was never scared. None of them cared that he was a bandit; they cared about Steve.

And Steve—poor, poor Steve… he was still so blinded by his fear, that he turned to the only thing he knew. He turned to the law. He turned to justice.

He turned to his obsessive idea of Ed Merry hanging by a noose.

March 19^th, 1786

Eddie had ridden all day and most of the night, stopping to rest his horse and later to camp just outside of Fool’s Gold with Shadowmere at his side, watching the main trials for his bandits to show up. He waited for hours. He waited until the day was already beginning to turn into night, and nothing happened. No bandits. No hunters.

It wasn’t until the sun was about to set that Eddie grew weary. He had always been weary, having been forced to leave Steve and his family behind, but there was something else. A feeling in his gut he had ignored. Too stubborn. Too happy. He chalked it up to normal anxiety and didn’t realize until that moment that it wasn’t a simple fear. Something was bound to happen.

Eddie sat up from where he was sat to get onto Shadowmere. He aimed her back towards his hideout—back towards Steve and his family, but Steve was already there. He was walking towards Eddie; the brim of his hat was pulled low. Eddie slowed his horse and hopped off.

“Steven!” He ran towards the man, smiling despite the fear in his chest. Steve stopped in his tracks and looked up at the man. He was only a few yards away, framed by old fences, trees, and posts. The many rocks around him provided shade, distorting the man’s expression and features. Still, Eddie ran. It wasn’t until he was mere feet away that he realized Steve was crying. “Darling?” Eddie asked, slipping the nickname by means of instinct than on purpose.

“I’m sorry, Ed.” The bandit slowed his running to a stop just to hear the click of a gun being cocked. Eddie turned around just in time for a gunshot to fire through the air. Eddie braced for the impact of a bullet, but none came. Eddie frowned and looked up to where a man had his gun raised. Who the man was, Eddie had no idea. He had a large grey mustache and a hat, and he lowered his gun from the sky to level with Eddie’s face. He cocked the weapon with a sneer.

“Next one goes between your eyes, Dead Ed.” He threatened. Eddie raised his hands and couldn’t help but chuckle.

“What?” He looked over to Steve with an awkward smile. “Steven?” he asked. Steve wordlessly stepped forward and grabbed Eddie’s raised hands to handcuff them behind his back. Eddie couldn’t have said anything if he tried. His mind was a sandstorm. It was too dark and dry to interpret the syllables on the tip of his tongue.

“You say his bounty will be enough?” Steve asked, ignoring Eddie trying desperately to turn his head enough to look at the sheriff restraining him.

The man nodded and tucked his gun away, “Enough for me. Once my partners get his crew, we’ll be off your tail.” He spit on the ground before raising his hand. “I’ll be giving your father the news of your death as soon as the bounty is in hand, kid.” He smiled, showing off a shining silver tooth. Eddie had half a mind to knock it out of his mouth, but his anger disappeared as quickly as it came, as the anchor in his chest sank that much deeper.

“You’re a bounty hunter.” It wasn’t a question.

“One of the best in the country.” The man tilted his hat and smiled proudly. “One that’s about to get your whole bounty in his pocket.” He leaned down and patted Eddie on the cheek. He laughed when Eddie’s face twisted in confusion. “Not the brightest star in the sky, huh?”

“Steven?” Eddie asked, struggling against the sheriff’s hold. To his partial relief, Steve did step in front of him, but the hunter grabbed his arms instead. “Darling?” Eddie tried.

Tears brimmed Steve’s eyes, and his jaw clenched tightly. It almost looked painful. “I’m sorry, Ed.”

Eddie said nothing at first, but his eyes teared up. With them building in his eyes, something built inside. His chest ached with the familiar pain of heartache, and he shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he whispered back, as if correcting Steve’s statement by shifting the blame to himself, “I’m so sorry I didn’t come to you sooner.”

A sack was placed over his head, and the barrel of the gun hit his temple. It didn’t knock him out for longer than a few seconds, but he stayed slumped. He had no motivation nor any energy to fight. All he could do was hold his breath and hope—pray—that this was all a nightmare.

March 20^th, 1786

Eddie sat in his cell calling himself an idiot. A lovesick fool. Of course, Steve only wanted him around for his bounty. That was all it ever was and all it would ever be. There was no way in hell Steve could ever save Eddie, let alone Eddie returning the favor like the curse demanded. No, he was bound to this cell and bound to this heartbreak of betrayal.

He couldn’t even have the comfort of Aphrodite’s rude but true remarks about his foolishness. Only his own thoughts to keep him company. Not even Lucas could be there, being in the infirmary for his injuries. How he survived the trek back was a mystery. Eddie was rooting for the kid, even if the lad wasn’t someone that he was close to. Though, what can he say? He always had a soft spot for kids.

A part of him wondered if they were forgetting about him on purpose. They had left drinking water and food for him in the cell, as if to give themselves an excuse to leave him alone. Psychologically torture him by leaving him in solitude. Or, maybe Steve was using this as an excuse to avoid Eddie. He felt guilty; he had to feel guilty, right?

Who was Eddie trying to kid? This wasn’t Stephen. This wasn’t his siren. This wasn’t some sheriff in a mask wishing he could be a better person. Steve was just another cruel, ruthless sheriff, and Eddie was foolish enough to think otherwise.

“Is this what karma is?” He wondered out loud, moved to talking to himself on the basis of his boredom.

Nadira taught him about karma many years ago. The man seldom was violent unless he had to be, and he talked about a force which kept the balance of good and bad. Cause an effect; the sum of one’s actions decide one’s fate. Perhaps, this was Eddie’s fate. To be betrayed and heart broken by a cruel man because he, in this life and the last, was too cruel to deserve anything kind. Violence stemmed from violence; this was all Eddie’s fault.

History rhymes, and Eddie wrote the first verse.

“You look tired.” Eddie flinched at the sound of a voice. To his surprise, it was Steve standing there, wringing his hands together nervously. Eddie couldn’t help it. He scowled.

“Had trouble sleeping. Was too distracted by the knife in my back.” He glared at the sheriff—at the man he thought was finally beginning to like him. Maybe even love him, but Eddie wasn’t that optimistic.

Steve flinched and took off his hat. He squeezed the material tightly, “It was never my intention to betray you like that. You have to believe me.” He had pleading eyes, and a part of the ice inside Eddie melted. He sighed and sat on the ground, resting his arms on his bent legs, laying his head back against one of the metal bars. Steve hesitantly approached him and sat on the other side beside him. Eddie looked over and stared at the man through the bars.

“You look tired,” he repeated Steve’s earlier sentiment.

“I couldn’t sleep last night.” Steve let his legs stretch out in front of him, “I… I shouldn’t have…” he hesitated.

“Shouldn’t have what? Betrayed me after making me promise that I wouldn’t betray you?” Steve finally looked over, tears in his eyes.

“Ed,” Steve swallowed, “I had no choice—”

“There’s always a choice.”

“They attacked me,” his voice was barely audible, and Eddie frowned.

“What?”

“When I went into town to steal those horses, there were hunters who somehow knew I was back. They saw me, and they… they cornered me. They held a gun to my head, demanding I tell them where Wren was. I told them the truth, and we… we struck a deal. I told them about your bounty a-and your crew’s bounties, and they agreed if I gave them the money and a bit extra that they’d leave us alone.” Steve’s lower lip wobbled, “But it was before I kissed you! It was before I knew you—truly knew you, and I was a coward! I’m sorry!”

“Steven, I don’t… I don’t understand.”

“I told you! I’m a coward and a fool! I traded you in for my freedom, and I should’ve never done that because I haven’t felt free in years, not until I met you. Not until that night when we—”

Eddie cut Steve off, even though he wanted more than anything for the man to admit that their kiss meant something special. Not just to Eddie but the both of them. “You saw my treasures,” Eddie interjected softly. Steve hesitated on a gasp. “You saw how much money I had. I—I offered to help you pay off the hunters! I…” Eddie looked his way, “If you had told me, I wouldn’t have hesitated to collect as much gold as we could carry. I could’ve paid those fuckers off! I could’ve saved you; we could’ve been saved!”

“It’s not that simple, Ed.”

“Bullshit! It is that simple. You just wanted me gone, right? You’re still nothing more than a cowardly homosexual too afraid to admit his feelings!” Steve stood in an instant, and Eddie scrambled to his feet just as Steve began to pace.

“It’s not that simple!”

“How?!” Eddie laughed in disbelief, “How is it not that simple?! How is this not just another manifestation of your fears? Of your goddamn stubbornness to give into something good!”

“Because I can’t be heartbroken again!” Steve shouted so loudly that the walls reverberated. Eddie shut his mouth, scowling, but Steve refused to let that stop him. “Because the first man I ever loved tossed me aside like I was worth nothing more than rotted meat.” He shook his head, “Worse than that, the first man I ever loved was not what I thought he was. He wasn’t kind. He wasn’t loving. He was a cruel, vile monster. When he told my father about us, I was mad, sure, but I knew he was doing it to protect himself. I forgave him. But when Liam willingly raped Wren, I…” he shook his head, “I realized what I had done. I let love cloud my judgement. I let evil into our lives, and it’s my fault Wren’s pregnant now. It’s my fault we had to leave, and it’s my fault for being too much of a coward for not standing up to Liam—for not killing him sooner!” He slapped a hand over his mouth, and Eddie felt something inside him crack.

“Oh, darling…” Eddie whispered. He already figured Steve had done something to Liam—something to excuse the hunters and his father’s long lasting rage, but Steve was always kind. He wasn’t bloodthirsty, not in the slightest.

Steve broke, sobbing into his hand, “God, I…” he wiped furiously at his eyes, and Eddie could do nothing but stand and watch, “I had to! He… he hurt Wren! They would’ve killed me if I hadn’t done it first!” He was shaking all over, voice increasing with volume and passion.

“Steven, you need to breathe. Can you do that for me, darling? Just take a few deep breaths, you’ll be alright…” Eddie reached a hand through the bars, “Steven, please, you’ll faint at this rate!” Steve was clutching his chest and hair at once. “Steven…” Eddie pressed his head against the gap of the bars, willing Steve to at least look at him, but the man was lost in a storm. Drowning in his own thoughts. Eddie swallowed, willing his voice to not shake.

It'd been years since he sang. He didn’t enjoy doing it anymore, not without Steve there to listen. But, with no other option at his expense, he sang like he used to when Stephen Howards got lost in a stormy mind. He cleared his throat, and quietly serenated his love.

“Oh, my siren, listen to me sing. Hear my voice, the storm’s breaking. Oh, great siren, bleed out your fears. The storms are all gone, your safe here. Oh, great siren, let me bottle your tears. Nothing can hurt you, not while I have you near.” Be it confusion or, as Eddie wished it, déjà vu, Steve stopped pacing and stopped clutching his chest. He looked over at Eddie, eyes soft and vulnerable.

“You’re safe,” Eddie emphasized.

“You have a beautiful voice.” The bandit felt his cheeks heat up at the praise.

“Says the man I just called a siren.”

Steve smiled, shaking his head with a laugh. “You really were a pirate,” he humored to himself, clearing his throat a moment later. He sniffed and hesitated. “I… fuck…” he ran a hand through his hair.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

A snort, “What is there to talk about? I killed a man in cold blood then ran away. Nothing much to it.”

“Maybe not, but I find the best way to cure a stormy mind is by draining the floods. Let me hear your stories, and your mind may be less overwhelming.”

The sheriff smiled. “You have a way with words…” he sat back on the floor, and Eddie joined him tentatively. Steve wiped the tears from his cheeks and clenched his jaw. “There isn’t much to tell,” he warned.

“Try me.”

Steve tilted his head, “I shot him the same night I ran away. My parents had turned me in, and homosexuality is punishable by death. I was taken to jail and escaped in the night. Liam found me while I was grabbing my things and Lydia. He had a knife, but I had already taken my father’s gun. I shot two more men that night in my escape; I haven’t killed anyone but criminals since. Even then, the criminals were in self-defense.”

“So was killing Liam.”

“Yes, well, that is what you would think. But Liam was no danger. He won our fight that night, but he couldn’t finish the job. I shot him after he’d already dropped the knife. After he’d already shown me mercy. I suppose I just…” Steve swallowed, “I wanted revenge, I think. For what he did to me and for what he did to Wren. I decided he deserved to die.” Steve, up until this point, sounded remorseful, but upon saying Liam deserved what he got, he sounded determined. He sounded like a man speaking the harsh truths of the world, as if Liam’s death was as righteous as a baptism. Eddie couldn’t help but smile, agreeing with Steve’s tone and statement. Liam sounded like a cruel, hideous man; Eddie was certain his death was lovely.

He said as such a moment later, making Steve bark out a shocked laugh.

“I should’ve known a bandit like you wouldn’t have related to my guilt over killing him.” His smile faltered, “He may have deserved it, but I still killed him and two other people that night. Liam deserved it, but what of the others? They tried to stop me but were simply doing their jobs. They were guards under my father’s payroll. Nothing more.” He moved, resting his elbows on his knees, “They were just doing their job.”

“These assassins and bounty hunters are just doing their jobs by hunting and killing people. Does that make them less deserving of punishment?” The sheriff huffed.

“Touché.” The air went still between them, with Eddie playing with the hem of his sleeves. When he looked over, he saw Steve staring at the ground, and he was frowning. “I’m sorry.”

An apology was just about the last thing Eddie expected. Still, he responded as if it was nothing off, “I know. I’m sorry too.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

“Well, I did kidnap you.” Steve laughed. “Besides, I’m a bandit, and you’re a sheriff… you’re just doing your job.” The sheriff looked at Eddie with a pitiful expression, and Eddie shrugged. “I’m only repeating what you’ve already said.”

“I should’ve never come back here. We should’ve just killed your colleagues and gotten their bounty. I should’ve… I’ve been such a coward.” He shook his head, “I’ve been cowardly, and now you’re going to pay because of my actions.”

Eddie looked to the floor and frowned, “Well…” he thought carefully of how to word what he wanted to say, “am I?”

“You’ll be executed as soon as the money comes in.”

“Not if you let me go.” Steve flinched and looked over, and Eddie had to swallow to not scoff at the man’s bewildered expression. “Is that not what you came here to do? You said you never wanted to betray me. You said you’re a coward, and you agree that we should’ve done something different. Well, this is the time to do something different. This is the time to change my fate. Steven,” Eddie laughed, “let me go, and we can fight off the hunters together. We can get the money from my hideout, kill my colleagues, get their bounty, and we can be free!”

“I can’t leave my family.”

“They can come too!” The bandit laughed, “Why wouldn’t they be able to come?! Of course, they can come too. We might have to wait for Wren to have her child, but come a few months, and we can leave this place for good. You and I can be free to be who we want to be. Out there, where no laws can touch us. Think about it!”

“I can’t, Ed.” Steve clenched his jaw and fists at the same time, “You don’t understand just how much trouble I’m in. I can’t...” he trailed off, clearly running out of excuses. Eddie reached through the bars and tugged on his shirt until the sheriff finally turned to look at him. He flinched, and Eddie knew why. His face almost hurt with how much he had hardened his expression. Steve was stubborn, but so was Eddie, and he’d hammer it into this sheriff’s thick skull until the man finally understood.

“You don’t have to stay here. Join me!” Eddie snapped, voice desperate, “Join me and be free! You are the one in control here! You create your destiny! You don’t have to be chained down—”

“I have a duty—”

“Believe it or not, but I am not telling you to run away for selfish reasons. You can let me go and never talk to me again, but I cannot let another day go by knowing you are unhappy and wasting away in a place like this.”

Tears sprung from Steve’s eyes, “But, why?”

Then, Eddie said something he hadn’t said in nearly a century. “Because I love you, Steven.”

Steve stayed quiet, but his eyes widened. “You probably think I’m insane,” Eddie continued, “but it’s true. From the moment I first laid eyes on you, I have loved you. From the moment I first saw you in pain, I have wanted to protect you. From the moment I first saw your smile, I knew I would give anything to make you happy. I don’t care if—if by the end of this you still want me dead. Maybe that fear of yours is too strong, and I can’t win against it, but know even if I die, I will still love you. Just please stop pretending. Stop acting like something you’re not. You killed Liam and ran away out of fear, and you put on a mask, but you don’t have to hide. You don’t have to pretend to be made of stone when I know you are as soft as the sand and gentle as a sea breeze.” He reached through the bars and cupped Steve’s cheek. The man flinched but relaxed into his palm, grabbing Eddie’s wrist in a harsh hold.

“Ed…”

“Please, stop destroying the man I love. Enough with justice. Enough with duty. Just be Steven. Be who you are.”

Steve gasped, and his voice broke with something painful, as he cupped Eddie’s hand and roughly whispered, “I don’t think I know who I am anymore, Ed.”

Eddie, eyes soft and mouth stretched into a gentle smile, responded, “Then let me show you.”

He kissed Steve through a jail cell, yet he’d never felt freer.

Steve was surprisingly the one to ask for more. He reached in beneath and above Steve’s hands to grab him right back, opening his lips as a silent plead for more. A deeper taste of Eddie, and Eddie so adored the taste of Steve, so he didn’t hesitate to delve his tongue in between the man’s sweet lips.

“Ed, please, please, I…” Steve trailed off, and Eddie wondered if the man even knew what he was asking for. He wondered if Steve knew that Eddie would give him whatever he desired. “Please, help me. Help me remember who I am.” He hiccupped, tears mixing with the spit staining his lips. Eddie could taste the salt, and it reminded him of the sea. “I’ve been so lost for so long. I’ve been starving for months. I need you.”

“What is it? What do you need me to do, angel?”

“Fix me. Please, please, fix me.” He hesitated then finished with as much vocal strength as a king, “Fuck me.”

Eddie, with eyes dark and gut heavy with lust, reached down. Steve hissed and thrusted forward, hands holding the bars, as Eddie’s palm barely ghosted across the growing tent in the man’s trousers. Only, Eddie wasn’t going for his cock. Instead, he grabbed Steve’s keys, which hung on his belt, and held them up.

“Do you trust me, darling?” he unlocked the door to his cage.

Steve, with his face red and puffy, nodded, “What do you need me to do?”

Eddie tilted his head and glanced at the handcuffs hanging on the wall. He crossed the room, grabbed them, and carried them back to Steve, who eyed them with a frown. “Put your hands together, my love.”

“Why?” Steve, despite his expression of trust, hesitated.

The bandit smiled and opened one of the cuffs, “Because if I’m going to fuck you and fix you at once, then I need to break you.” He leaned forward, “Put your hands together so that I may cuff you and treat you like the whore you are.”

Anyone else would assume such harsh words and his cruel tone would make Steve frightened, but Eddie knew the man better than he knew himself.

Steve let out a shocked moan in response, and Eddie found himself completely and utterly under the siren’s spell.

Chapter Text

March 20^th, 1786

“I have seen wicked men and fools, a great many of both; and I believe they both get paid in the end; but the fools first.” – (Kidnapped) Robert Louis Stevenson

“Put your wrists together, darling,” Eddie asked. Steve did so, hands slightly shaking. Eddie rubbed a thumb over the man’s racing pulse. He then wrapped his hand completely around Steve’s wrists and lifted them up to press against the bars. “Is this alright?”

“It’s perfect.” Steve was still trembling all over. Eddie raised a brow, “I promise, I’m alright. I… it’s just been a while since I’ve done this.”

“You’ve no need to be nervous; I would never harm you.” Not in ways he didn’t want, at least.

“I’m worried you won’t like how I am.”

“Impossible,” Eddie bit into Steve’s earlobe, as he leaned up to thread the handcuffs through the bars of the cage and clicked them around Steve’s wrists. Steve instantly tested them, tugging on the cuffs until the chain clanged against the bars. “I could leave here balls full and cock hard, and as long as I’ve spilled your seed, I’d be more than satisfied.”

“In that case, I’m worried you’ll leave me here to escape.”

“Never,” he said then paused and tilted his head, “That’s a good idea, though. Dee was right; you’re good at thinking like a criminal. You’d make a killing as a bandit.” He smiled, while Steve shook his head.

“You’re a bad influence, Mr. Merry.”

“Yet you came to me for help. What does that make you, Steven?” He played with the buttons of Steve’s shirt, taking the thing apart tantalizingly slow. It was meant to tease Steve, but he had to admit that he felt his own hands begin to shake with the anticipation.

“Naïve, immorally weak... stupid?”

“Well, I know you’re not stupid nor weak nor naïve…” Eddie opened the front of Steve’s shirt, exposing that scared, hairy torso that had taken up many of his fantasies since meeting Steven Henderson. “So, what is it that has you stuck in shackles with me? Why is it that you let me and my bad influences poison you so?”

“Whiskey and moonshine are poisons. You’re not poison.” He shook his head, “You’re… you’re an addiction. Just like the spirits, I crave you, but I’m not poisoned by you.”

“Yet you’re slurring like you’re drunk.” Eddie wasn’t even touching Steve anymore. All he did was open Steve’s shirt, yet the man was practically drooling. Ironically, it made Eddie feel drunk himself. Drunk on power. Drunk on lust. Drunk on the dark color in Steve’s eyes, like sea-soaked wood. “Am I really having such an effect on you? I feel so special.”

“You’d be having a lot more of an effect on me if you’d touch me.” Steve rolled his hips forward, a smile teasing in his expression. Eddie licked his lower lip.

“Now, is that anyway to ask for something you want?” He reached forward and grabbed onto Steve’s hips. Pressing them hard against the bars of the cell, he leaned forward to whisper in the tied man’s ear, “Say please, darling.”

Steve hesitated, something deep in his mind likely shielded. Something which told him to keep his guard up. “Please…?” Eddie pinched Steve’s side, making the man hiss.

“You can do better than that, darling.” His tone was nothing kind but still honeyed, “Like you mean it, now.” Leaning forward, he displayed his teeth in a shark-like smile. There was blood in the water he could smell a mile away. The blood in Steve’s veins smelled of something sweet, mixing with his sweat and the scent of dirt. Steve would always be irresistible to Eddie. Dirty, scruffy, and coated with sweat from the heat; Eddie wanted nothing more than to eat him alive.

“Please, Ed.”

“Please what?”

“Touch me more. Please.” Steve’s eyes grew wide and wet, desperate albeit still showing trepidation. There was something still so tight within him—a stress he couldn’t let go of. Oh well, Eddie could always be good for relieving some tension.

And Steve did ask Eddie to take him apart, put him back together, and it looked like the bandit would have to simply work harder than he was expecting. Whatever storm was in Steve’s mind put his brain into knots that Eddie had to unravel. It made him feel like an animal.

“Alright, I will.” Though, Eddie did not touch Steve where the man clearly, desperately needed to be touched. The growing tent in his trousers when ignored, as Eddie focused on his chest and belly instead. He scraped dull nails across Steve’s abs then up to his pecs. In his last life, Steve was lean and slender, having only gotten a chance to fatten himself up a bit before dying. He spent too long being starved. In this life, Steve was wealthy, well fed, and active through the demand of being a sheriff. He was thick all over, with layers of fat and muscle that Eddie vowed to sink his teeth into as soon as possible. For now, he pressed his nails into the flesh, relishing in the way Steve winced and moaned, as if unsure whether he should find pleasure in the moments of pain.

“I’ve never seen a whore so conflicted,” Eddie commented, grabbing the bulbs of flesh like tits on the other man’s chest.

“I’m not a whore.” Steve, despite his insistence, arched his back to press against Eddie’s hands. Eddie responded with a smile, squeezing the man’s pecs harder and pinching his nipples in between his fingers.

“Not a whore, huh? You must be in denial, then, for only a whore would be so delighted to be teased so much. Only a whore would be so delighted by pain.” He paused and leaned forward. His mouth opened then closed around Steve’s flesh, biting and sucking hard until the sheriff shouted, “Decide, Steven—pain or pleasure? Which is it going to be?”

“I…” Steve shook his head, “I can’t decide. I just… don’t stop. I don’t want you to stop,” he pleaded with round, wet eyes and a parted mouth. Breathless and helpless, Steve stared at Eddie. “Please, Ed.”

And how could Eddie say no to that?

He went after Steve’s other pec, not bothering to tease it with his hands. Instead, he instantly went in with his mouth. He licked the bud of Steve’s nipple before closing his mouth around it. Using the edges of his teeth, he scraped the skin before biting down, relishing in the way Steve writhed beneath his touch. He sucked on the bud, moving his mouth to mark up the rest of Steve’s chest. The man’s moans, deeper and quieter than the last life, were still the greatest song Eddie’s ever heard. Greater than the song of the sea and the peaceful desert night. He enjoyed the feeling of hair tickling the corners of his face, and the sound of metal handcuffs clanging against metal bars was nothing but a distant echo. All that mattered was Steve, whose heart Eddie swore he could hear as clear as a bell. Thump, thump thump—quicker and quicker as time passed.

“Oh!” Steve choked on air, as Eddie carefully palmed over the tent in the man’s trousers, “Oh, thank you. Thank you, Ed,” the sheriff sighed in such relief that one would think he was being tortured. Not that it was meant to be relief, as Eddie immediately lightened his touch to trace the fabric with his pointer finger. He could feel the familiar veins on Steve’s cock through the fabric.

Lips wet and swollen, Eddie pulled away to look up, keeping one hand on Steve’s waist and the other tracing his knuckles up and down the covered member. It throbbed beneath him, and Eddie raised a brow. “What is it that you desire, my beautiful Steven?”

“You… always you, whatever you’ll give me. Whatever I can have; I just…” there was a tear which glistened in the golden light. It slipped down Steve’s cheek, leaving cleanliness in wake of dust and dirt. The man licked it away when it trailed to the side of his upper lip, and Eddie enviously swallowed, wishing it was his tongue to clean the droplet. It was always like this; Eddie craving whatever he could get. If it tasted like Steve, it would forever be his addiction.

“You just what?” Eddie prompted, meanly flicking at the mass beneath his hand.

“I—” Steve cut himself off with a groan, “I just want you. I’ve always wanted you.”

“Why, Steven, we’ve only just met.”

“I don’t care,” the man’s voice turned stern, and Eddie halted all movement. A part of Steve seemed to hate that, but his mouth still moved with the melodic tone of his voice, “I don’t care that I’ve only known you for a short amount of time. I feel as though my entire life, I’ve been craving something. Missing something I could never find. A hole deeper than a well constantly begging to be filled with something. No number of poisonous spirits or late nights could fill it. Not even Liam could cure me of my mess, but the first time I saw you, it felt as though I’d finally found it. The thing I’d been missing was you. It was always you, and I was too stubborn to accept that. I spent so long pushing you away when I should’ve been honest from the beginning. Of my pure adoration of you. You’re the only man I’ve ever truly…” He trailed off.

“What?” Eddie pressed.

“My life was spent aimlessly wandering in the desert, but I have found you, my oasis. So, I don’t care what it is. I will take whatever you give me. As long as it’s you, I will feel complete. I will feel whole again.”

It wasn’t a confession. No, the anchor tying Steve’s tongue stubbornly to his fears wouldn’t let him say it just yet, but what other way was there to describe what Steve had just said besides love? Besides something pure and beautiful. Something Eddie had been craving for a century.

He stood and licked into Steve’s mouth without hesitation. The man, albeit caused by surprised, took it in stride, opening his lips to welcome Eddie’s tongue inside. Eddie licked Steve like he was fresh water, like he was something sweet and sticky. Steve was barely able to kiss back with how desperate Eddie’s lips moved. He nipped at Steve’s bottom lip just to fully bite down, tasting iron and listening to the shout of the sheriff’s shocked yelp that turned into a moan. Eddie licked at the blood he left behind then lowered his head to bite at Steve’s neck.

“My darling, my love, I’ve never desired anyone but you,” Eddie spoke against his pulse. He inhaled the scent there. The saltiness of Steve’s sweat and the oil from his hair. It was perhaps the most animalistic he ever felt, as he suddenly felt the urge to turn Steve around and bite into the back of his neck. Scruffing him like a creature in rut would do to its mate in heat. He’d hold Steve down and take what he wanted, fill him with his seed until they both reeked of each other’s sweat and musk. Would Steve bleed? Would he plead for Eddie to slow down or to speed up? A century worth of waiting, Eddie was desperate. It was a miracle Steve’s pants were still on, especially as he ripped the sheriff’s shirt apart. It landed in tatters on the floor, and Steve cursed.

“What the fuck?” He muttered, looking down at the pieces of ripped cloth.

“Steven, you have no idea what you do to me.” Eddie felt breathless, as if he was drowning.

“Then show me. Show me what I do to you.” The sheriff then pointedly looked down at Eddie’s pants, where his erection was throbbing and begging to be released. Eddie tilted his head, knowing how much he needed to be released from his confines. First, he gripped at Steve’s waistband and tugged. Despite the man’s request, Steve seemed perfectly happy with this order of events. He even lifted his feet, as Eddie ripped off his boots.

Alright, if Eddie’s being honest, the boots were not ripped off. They were cowboy boots, and despite being broken in, they weren’t worn down yet. Steve muffled his giggles into his arm, as Eddie fully got to the floor to tug on the offensive things. “Could you not just rip my pants off as you did my shirt, Ed?”

“This is a personal fight now, Steven. It has nothing to do with you,” Eddie replied through grunts, until he flew back. The boot knocked against the desk. The next one… “Did you soak these in water?!” It too flew behind Eddie when he finally yanked the thing off. Steve continued giggling, as Eddie got to his feet with a huff. “Laugh it up. You’re not the one doing all the work here.”

“Last time I checked, it’s what you preferred.” Steve tugged on his handcuffs with a smirk. Eddie rolled his eyes, falling quickly into an old dance. Flirting and laughing through sex. Gods, would there ever be a lifetime where they wouldn’t behave like absolute freaks? Laughing and playing when any other people would be too lost with lust? Maybe that was the difference between them and other lovers. Maybe that was what made them soulmates. The comfort. Knowing that the passion between them never wavered even if they paused to laugh or crack a joke. The lust in the air was just as heavy, even as easy smiles drifted onto both men’s faces.

“I don’t believe sex is supposed to come with this much laughing, Mr. Merry,” Steve commented, much to Eddie’s amusement after his train of thoughts.

“Sex without laughter is like a day without sunshine, my love,” Eddie responded, returning to his task of removing the other man’s pants, “If I enjoy your body, I must have sex with you. If I enjoy your presence, I must smile. If I enjoy your soul, your mind, and everything in between; I must laugh, for how could a joy as tremendous as that be contained?”

Steve snorted, “You are the oddest bandit I’ve ever met.”

“And you are the worst sheriff I’ve ever seen.” Eddie smiled as Steve rolled his eyes. He then finally, finally pulled down those offensive trousers, and he immediately groaned at the sight. “Fucking beautiful, my darling.”

A cock is a cock no matter the lifetime, but Steve’s was something special. There were many poets in the world, and at any given time they will write of sunsets, love, death, God, or something in between. Eddie could truthfully write a thousand sonnets of Steve’s cock. It was flushed pink from the man’s erection, shiny at the tip. When Eddie wrapped his hand around it, he felt the warmth of the sun and the hardness of the Earth. Strong and comforting all at once.

“Shit,” Steve hissed, legs twitching as he fought off the urge to thrust.

“Look at you,” Eddie muttered, moving his hand up and down only once. His grip wasn’t tight enough to provide any real relief, so Steve was stuttering to find the proper words to beg. All that he could say was Eddie’s word. “Such a perfect little thing. All for me, yes?”

“Ed, please—”

“Did Liam touch you like this?” Eddie continued, still holding Steve in one hand and using the other to gently pet at his balls. “Did he give you the proper attention? Or did he just fuck your cunt and move on?” A twitch, and a small bead of precum formed at the tip of Steve’s cock. “Did he never give you proper care?”

“Please—” Steve cut himself off by biting into his own shoulder. Eddie still heard the high pitched yelp, as he licked the head of Steve’s dick. It tasted just as he remembered.

“Answer me, Steven.”

“No, he never… he sucked me once but preferred if I…” he groaned, as Eddie licked up one of his throbbing veins. “No, he didn’t give me any care. Not really.”

“A pretty little thing like you,” Eddie tsked, “It’d be nothing short of a sin to not give you everything you desired. Then again, your desires aren’t enough, are they? All the gold in the world couldn’t measure up to all that you deserve. You deserve the world. You deserve the stars, the moon, the sun, and everything beyond. If I could, I’d lasso the heavens and force them to your level. I’d fight every god and devil just to keep you happy.”

“You don’t need to do all that,” Steve shook his head.

“And if I want to?” He finally gripped Steve tighter, “If I want to give you everything?”

“Give me your mouth; it will feel just as good.” Eddie smiled proudly.

“As you wish.”

While Eddie could swear Steve had some kind of oral fixation, he always made sure to pleasure his siren as much as possible. He’d suck the man while he was reading or writing. He’d wake him up with his mouth around him and fuck him until he stopped feeling drowsy. He ate him out just as much, pressing his tongue as deep as it would go until Steve was begging for something longer and harder. Steve was always better at sucking him off, Eddie thinks, but the bandit had a century of practice now. While he doubts his mouth could be better than the heaven found on Steve’s tongue, he had a goal in mind to give his siren the best pleasure he could provide. After all, they had only a week left together. For all he knew, this would be Eddie’s last chance to taste Steve so deeply and feel him so fully.

His jaw was stretched but didn’t ache. Perks of being immortal, he supposed. No exhaustion—no pain—no need to even breath, as he took Steve down to the hilt. “Ed!” Steve shouted, hips pressing forward. Eddie’s nose pressed against the man’s stomach, and Eddie used one hand to grope Steve’s balls and the other to collect the drool spilling from the corners of his mouth. He moved his head back and forth, swallowing when he felt Steve hit the back of his throat then licking the man’s tip when he pulled back up.

With his one hand, fingers slick with spit and drool, he moved towards Steve’s bottom. He used his knees to force the man’s legs apart, and Steve went with ease, nodding when Eddie looked up at him. Eddie smiled as best as he could with the cock in his mouth then let go of Steve’s balls to pull at one of his cheeks. He continued bobbing his head, as he swiped his slick finger over Steve’s entrance. His rim fluttered, momentarily protesting the intrusion. Eddie therefore hummed, sending vibrations and pleasure through Steve until the man relaxed. He inserted his pointer finger, and Steve gasped.

It was the only warning Eddie got before the throbbing member in his mouth released. Steve’s cum dripped down his throat, and Eddie groaned at the taste, swallowing down his love as if it was sweet, bitter wine. He kept suckling on Steve’s cock until the man weakly groaned and pushed his knee against his shoulder. He pulled off and removed his finger.

“Beautiful,” Eddie huffed when he pulled off, voice hoarse but quickly recovering. “Turn around.” He smacked the side of Steve’s thigh.

“Handcuffs…” the man breathlessly reminded him. Eddie looked up and down again, and he grabbed Steve’s keys to quickly remove them.

“Will you still behave without these?” He held the cuffs up, and Steve tilted his head.

“What if the answer was yes, but I still wanted to keep them on?” Steve put his hands together, and Eddie smiled. He tilted his head and glanced over his shoulder at the sheriff’s desk.

“Come here, darling.” He led the naked man towards the desk, too aware of the fact that he was still fully dressed. It made him feel powerful while, at the same time, made him think back to a long time ago, when he first saw Steve naked. Then, the man was shivering and weak, starved and bruised and injured in ways Eddie could never understand. He liked this better. Watching Steve move with ease and comfort. Well-fed and tan from sun, and the only bruises and marks were the ones Eddie caused. If there wasn’t that lingering hesitation still in the man’s eyes, Eddie would say he looked perfect. Though, when Steve looked at him, eyes shining and lip upturned, he was pretty damn close.

“Bend over the edge there. Yes, just like that, love, perfect.” Steve had his elbows resting against the desk, and Eddie gently grabbed at his biceps, “Behind your back, darling.”

“Am I under arrest?”

Eddie chuckled, “That’s your job, remember?” He pressed Steve’s wrists together and worked on the cuffs, “This isn’t an arrest. It’s a promise.” He locked them and set the key to the side, ready to grab in case Steve wanted out, “A promise that you’ll always be safe with me, for I may put you in chains, but I’d never keep you in them. I want you free in every sense of the word.”

Not death, of course. But was freedom through death truly an escape if it meant being locked down by memories and grief? Steve died, but through the curse, he was tied to Eddie. Cursed himself to come back each time the bandit failed. Not this time, Eddie swore to himself.

“We’ll both be free,” Steve whispered, and it sounded like a promise.

“We’ll both be free,” Eddie agreed, though he was only lying. “Now be a good girl and spread your legs.” Eddie hit the sides of Steve’s shins with his boot for emphasis. Steve went with ease, bare feet tapping against the wooden floor. Chest against the wooden desk and ass up, Eddie had never seen anything more beautiful. In the centuries to come, Eddie would meet artists all across the world and grow his own collection. He’d get into a fight with Andy Warhol at a party, give flowers to Frida Kahlo in exchange for a small painting, and even steal a sketch from Pablo Picasso. He’d buy and own a Van Gogh piece and see all the greatest art pieces in the world. All those artists could spend a century painting, and he would visit all the greatest art museums and galleries in the world, but nothing could measure up to even half the beauty of Steve bent over like that. Even Mother Earth herself, the greatest artist, could not provide a sunset or sunrise—no field of flowers or magnificent creature—that could measure up to Steve.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Eddie, feeling warm, removed his shirt. Steve looked at him over his shoulder.

“Says the man who looks like that.” His eyes were wide and genuine, and Eddie blushed. Only Steve could make a pirate-bandit blush.

Eddie did not consider himself attractive. He’d been frozen in time at a low point in his life. His skin would forever be pale, healing just as fast as it browned or reddened. His hair, while he could cut it shorter, would grow fast and never beyond the length it was when he was a pirate. The same went for his beard. He was covered in scars and tattoos. He could add as many tattoos as he wanted, but any regrettable ones would stay regretful, and he couldn’t even burn them away. His forehead had lines, and there were permanent bags beneath his eyes despite not needing sleep. His nose was crooked and round, and his facial hair was patchy, yet Steve looked at him…

Steve looked at him like art, as if he was worthy of such a feeling.

“Can I see the rest of you?” Steve’s eyes darted to Eddie’s pants.

“Not yet, darling. Soon, but not quite.”

“Can I taste you like you tasted me?” Eddie stopped in his tracks, and Steve smiled. He glanced through the window, and the sun was going down soon.

“Won’t folks wonder where you’ve gone?” Eddie asked, cock twitching at the thought of Steve’s perfect, hot mouth.

“I told Wren to tell everyone I was home with a fever. With Lucas still in the infirmary, no one should bother us. I’ve locked all doors, and the windows are shut.” His eyes were wide, “Please, let me taste you.”

Whatever little restraint Eddie had was gone, and he immediately tugged at his pants. Steve smiled and faced forward, as Eddie grabbed his hips and pulled him from the desk. He grabbed his shirt and laid it on the ground, “Kneel on this, sweetheart.” Steve fell to his knees and looked up at Eddie through his lashes. Eddie cursed and bit his lip, “Gods, your eyes are as black as night, sparkling with just as many stars too.”

“It’s because I’m looking at the whole universe,” The man on the floor replied, breath brushing Eddie’s cock, and the bandit was nearly winded by it.

“Keep talking like that, and I may just keep you here forever.”

“Promise?” Before the bandit could respond, Steve leaned forward. Eddie held his breath, hands going limp when Steve traced his nose against the tent of his pants. He sighed softly, as Steve then opened his mouth to tug at the material. Eddie helped him push them down, but before he could work on his boots, Steve’s mouth was already on him. It made him gasp and hunch forward, catching himself on the desk and by his grip on Steve’s hair.

He immediately pulled on the strands, and Steve took it in stride, immediately moaning around the length in his mouth. The vibrations made Eddie momentarily see stars, and he wondered how he survived an entire century without this. Steve’s mouth was so wet and hot, and his skillful tongue managed to lick at Eddie’s slit with each pass near the front of his mouth. He swallowed around him down to the base, humming and moving with practiced ease that would’ve made Eddie jealous had it not been for his brain leaking out of his ears.

“Oh, my gods, Steven. You’re perfect. Fucking made for this.” Eddie somehow managed to pull himself together enough to tighten his grip on Steve’s hair and move his hips in time with the man’s motions. “Addicting inside and out, my own angel on Earth.” He released his grip on the desk to keep both hands on Steve’s head, making the sheriff moan. “What is it, darling?”

His darling looked up and, without blinking, pressed his head forward as far as he could go. His nose tickled below Eddie’s navel. “Oh,” the standing man chuckled, “is that how it is? You want me to fuck your pretty mouth, love?” Steve released a guttural groan and nodded as best as he could with Eddie inside him. “Open wide and relax, darling.”

Steve swallowed once then sighed deeply through his nose; Eddie made sure to keep his airway clear until it was time to grip his hair tighter. “Hit your cuffs together if you want me to stop.” Steve, the perfect man he was, quickly hit his cuffs together to demonstrate, “Yes, just like that. Ready?” The siren hummed in confirmation.

Eddie grabbed either side of Steve’s head, holding onto the thick, soft hair in his fists. Strands peaked out from between his knuckles. Steve’s eyelids fluttered with the temptation to shut, but he kept his eyes open and up, staring into Eddie’s. The bandit started slow, using short movements of his hips to ease Steve into it. The languid motions wouldn’t bring him past the edge, but there was something so sweet about savoring Steve’s mouth. Like savoring a good drink or a gentle breeze on a hot day. He sighed softly, head rolling back, as the tip of his cock brushed against the tightness of Steve’s throat. The man gagged around him, but Eddie couldn’t help but keep going.

“I’m going to go faster now, love,” Eddie warned, and Steve nodded, eyes already tearing up from his throat getting brushed up against for so long. It was such a lovely sight, and Eddie kept his gaze on Steve’s eyes, as he picked up his speed. In and out in quick procession like the beat of a drum. Steve gagged around the intrusion but took it in stride, swallowing whenever he could and keeping his throat loose. It was so wet that drool dripped down the corners of his mouth, making his chin shine with spit, as his cheeks shined with tears.

“Like a work of art,” Eddie grunted and used one hand to slide down Steve’s face. Two fingers slid through the tear tracks then down to his chin, collecting the spit there. He held his hand up, admiring the shine and the way spit dripped down his pointer. Then, with a soft sigh, Eddie brought his fingers up to his lips and sucked them inside his mouth. He tasted Steve mixed with the salt of his fingers, pulling them out with a moan. “Delicious.”

In place of a response, Steve suddenly began to move. He matched Eddie’s thrusts, moaning in desperate ways, as if he might just die if he couldn’t get Eddie to finish. Eddie, meanwhile, struggled to catch his breath. His knees buckled once more, and Steve kept going. It didn’t take long for a familiar tightness to form in his gut. “Steven! Fuck, I…” trailing off with a moan, he practically saw stars. He throbbed and stuttered, hips forcing themselves forward as his balls drew up. His vision whited for just a moment, as he finished down Steve’s throat.

Steve let out a sound that would probably be a sob had his airway been clear, but as it stood, he still had Eddie’s cock in his mouth. Thus, the noise he let out was strangled but no less a cry of relief, as he instantly swallowed around Eddie, taking in his seed and still sucking until the bandit finally pulled out. Steve gasped when he did, wheezing and voice hoarse when he spoke, “Was it good?”

It was like Shakespeare stood before an adoring crowd and asked if they enjoyed the play. “Was it good?” Eddie scoffed, “My darling, no masterful artist asks if its good when a crowd adores them. You’ve just taken my soul out through my cock, yet you ask if you did good.” He kneeled on the ground and grabbed Steve’s cheeks, pressing a kiss to his lips. He tasted himself when he licked inside, “You were perfect, my darling.”

“Perfect enough for you to still fuck me?”

Great Zeus, and Eddie thought Stephen Howards was insatiable. This sheriff was going to be the death of him. “Get back onto the desk, my love.”

Steve, with Eddie’s help, bent over the desk once more, legs spread, and body flushed. Eddie stood behind him, ordering Steve to face forward, “Just keep like that. Just let me use you, darling.” They had no oil readily available nor any animal fat, but Eddie wasn’t complaining. In fact, he had on a shark-like smile, as he kneeled behind Steve and pulled his cheeks apart to stare at that lovely, puckered hole between them. His mouth was already watering. The first thing he did was purse his lips together and blow, sending a cold breeze that made Steve shiver. He laughed. “So sensitive…”

“Please, just… just get on with it,” Steve whined, arching his back in an obscene way.

“Good things come to those who wait.”

“I’ve spent the last month thinking about this moment. I’ve waited long enough,” he snapped in return, and Eddie bit into the fat of his ass. Steve yelped.

“Don’t be ungrateful, sheriff.” Steve groaned as Eddie soothed the forming bruise his teeth left behind. He then returned his attention to the man’s entrance. While the rest of Steve was mostly sun kissed, his legs and ass were pale. Eddie smiled at the forming color of the places he bit or sucked on, and he admired the color in Steve’s cock, which was hard once more.  It hung between his legs, and Eddie stuck his tongue out and licked from the tip of Steve’s cock to his taint. Steve gasped and shook at the teasing act, but before he could say something, most likely something snide, Eddie finally pressed his lips to the man’s entrance.

The first thing he did was kiss it with the same gentleness he once used to kiss Steve goodnight. He slowly added more, sticking his tongue out with each following press of lips until he finally licked the skin. Steve was sweating, and Eddie instantly moaned at the taste. Salty and purely Steve. He couldn’t get enough.

Pressing his tongue inside of Steve felt like tasting his favorite dessert for the first time.  The man was so warm, and he tasted so purely of himself that Eddie found drool already spilling down his chin. He took it in stride, sucking on his own spit and on Steve’s rim, as his tongue thrusted in and out of the tight hole. Steve was a mess, practically melted, limp, and open, as he languidly grinded his ass back onto Eddie’s mouth. Eddie let him, happily lapping at the skin and at his own spit.

He continued tonguing the man’s ass but let go of one of his cheeks. He collected the spit dripping down Steve’s cock, making the member twitch against his fingers. Starting with just his pointer, Eddie carefully pressed against Steve’s rim, using his own spit and the movement of his tongue to push his finger inside with ease. Steve immediately pressed back, urging Eddie to press in deeper. Eddie stuck his tongue beside his pointer but bent the digit.

After all this time, he still knew exactly where Steve’s prostate is. He purposefully brushed against it, smiling against the man before him when it made Steve let out a low groan and shudder. He ignored it then, moving his pointer finger in slow circles until he decided to add his middle finger beside it. He kept his tongue there, using his spit to keep the glide slick.

“Ed,” Steve sighed, as Eddie scissored his two fingers apart, adding a third a second later. He finally pulled away, spitting once where his three fingers pressed into Steve’s entrance. Feeling almost hypnotized, Eddie couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight. Steve fluttering around him, welcoming his fingers like old friends. Unable to help himself, Eddie did finally target Steve’s prostate once more. He first only tapped it once, testing the waters. By Steve’s gasp, he pressed in deeper. He pressed the bundle of nerves and moved his fingers in slow, calculated circles. Movements that he knew drove Steve mad. And, man, did they ever.

Steve wasn’t even coherent anymore. He was mumbling, drooling against the desk, as he moaned and pleaded quietly. Eddie smiled and bit his cheek once more, making Steve weakly whine against the pain. “Ed, please…”

“Please what, my darling?”

“Fuck me. Please, I… I want your cock. I need it.” Eddie looked up, and he saw tears streaming down Steve’s red face. “Please,” he pleaded once more when he caught Eddie’s eyes.

“Fucking hell…” Eddie ripped his fingers out, watching the hole flutter around nothing and listening to Steve’s moans of protest. He gripped his cock, squeezing a bit hard around the base as to not release too soon. Steve had already released once, so it shouldn’t take too long to send him over the edge again.

He spat on his hand and rubbed the saliva down his length, hissing at the desperately needed friction. Then, he pressed the tip against Steve’s hole, rubbing through the spit he left behind. Steve immediately pressed back, egging Eddie to get on with it. The bandit wasn’t nearly strong enough to say no to something as tempting as that. He’d waited long enough—a lot longer than a damn month, might he add.

Steve was so tight and so warm. It was exactly as Eddie remembered, following all his fantasies and wet dreams down to the feeling of their very cells mending together. He nearly sobbed when he felt Steve make room for his cock. Muscles clenching and throbbing against the hardness inside of him. The smooth glide aided only by spit and sweat. Eddie damn near went insane, leaning forward to rest his head in between Steve’s shoulder blades, as he slowly but surely bottomed out. Both men moaned at once. Eddie felt his eyes tear up, as he felt the closest thing he had to a home in a long, long time. This was home. This was all he ever needed.

“You feel amazing,” Steve muttered, filling the silence and moving his hips. He silently begged the bandit to move, and Eddie, still overwhelmed with emotions, couldn’t lift his head but still pulled back his hips. He thrusted forward just as quickly, and they both groaned with the movement. Eventually, he would have to stand back straight and fuck Steve properly. Until then, he grabbed Steve’s hips and pressed kisses to his spine.

“Made for me. Opening up so beautifully.” He whispered against Steve’s spine, though beneath the cord was the man’s heart and lungs. He spoke to those. He spoke to what kept Steve alive and made sure they heard him—made sure they knew to keep him alive for as long as possible.

“Please move.” Steve whimpered like he was crying, and Eddie finally stood up.

“I love you,” he said before tightening his grip and fucking Steve just as the man was asking him to. Steve immediately began shouting out in shocked pleasure, as Eddie targeted the man’s prostate as soon as he found purchase. The desk shook and slid against the floor with the power behind the thrusts, and each noise Steve let out was punched out of him. Eddie felt him already clenching up. It wouldn’t be long.

“God! Oh, God, please!” Steve shouted, hands folded behind his back and teeth likely clenched. “Fuck!” He shook all over, shaking violently from overstimulation. From the overwhelming pleasure he was feeling. It made Eddie smile dangerously, and he smacked Steve’s ass. “Shit!”

“Scream for me louder, Steven. Let the whole town hear their sheriff is a whore,” Eddie sneered, now hammering his hips as if he was trying to breed the man beneath him. Steve moaned louder than he ever had, and Eddie felt the familiar tightness in the man’s muscles. “That’s it, darling. Come for me. Let me hear you. Let me see you fall apart, piece by piece.” He tightened his grip and groaned, as Steve finished. It was a vice grip, tight enough to almost keep Eddie trapped, as he pressed in one final time to finish inside the man beneath him. Steve’s release splattered against his desk, his stomach, and the floor, while Eddie splattered the man’s inside with white. Steve shivered in the aftershock, trembling all over while Eddie made small movements to finish the both of them off.

“My perfect little sheriff.” Eddie grabbed the keys and unlocked the cuffs, finally pulling out to catch Steve when he attempted to stand on rubber legs. “I’ve got you, love.” He grabbed his own shirt from the ground to force onto Steve’s shaking frame. He then grabbed a blanket from one of the dressers in the room, likely left behind after nights spent at the station instead of home. “It’s okay,” he shushed the man, as he picked Steve up in gentle arms.

“You’re stronger than you look,” Steve commented, speaking against Eddie’s neck, where he pressed a kiss against the man’s pulse.

“For you I am,” Eddie replied, pressing a kiss to Steve’s temple. He laid the man down and left for a moment to grab their pants. Steve groaned in protest, so Eddie spoke as he moved to let the man know he wasn’t leaving him behind. “I’m just grabbing our pants, love.”

They laid together in the cell. Steve in his pants and Eddie’s shirt, and Eddie in his pants and no shirt at all. It inspired Steve to trace over his tattoos with a gentle touch. Eddie ignored the shivers running down his spine. “You have a lot.”

“I’ve been getting them since I was eleven years old.” Christine nearly killed the freehand who gave him his first tattoo, which was of a seashell on Eddie’s ankle. She shouted that he was too young, even if plenty of other pirate kids got tattoos at even younger than he did. “You’d look lovely with some ink.” Steve’s shirt was unbuttoned, so Eddie reached out to trace the birthmark. The spot where his love was slaughtered in the past life. “You always look lovely.”

“You look handsome,” Steve responded, blushing deeply, “You have a strength to you. Something intimidating yet intoxicating. All your tattoos and scars and the coal around your eyes. I feel soft in comparison.”

“Do you like feeling soft?”

“I feel safe in your arms, so I suppose I do.” Steve didn’t look at Eddie when he spoke, focusing only on the man’s chest. “Do you like being intimidating?”

Eddie tilted his head, “Sometimes I do, as it keeps those, I wish to stay away far from me. Other times, I hate it, as too often it has driven away the people I love.”

“You said you love me, and you haven’t driven me away.” He kissed the tattoo of a ship on Eddie’s left pec.

“That’s because you only saw the intimidation I don’t purposefully put on display. You saw my scars, my criminal past, and my tattoos and felt natural intimidation. Others, when they feel intimidated by me, are often because I want them to. I put on a mask of sort to scare others, as it keeps me in power and them fearful. I never wore a mask around you, and I never would. You deserve more than a mask to frighten you. You deserve something genuine—something kind.”

“You’re kind.”

“Because I love you.” Steve stopped tracing Eddie’s tattoos. “You don’t have to say it back.”

“I know, I…” he swallowed, “I know.”

Eddie pressed a kiss to Steve’s head once more, feeling comfort with the man finally in his arms. For the first time in a century, he enjoyed the thought of falling asleep. “Sleep now, love. We can talk more in the morning.”

“Goodnight, Ed.”

“Goodnight, Steven.”

It wasn’t until he heard the soft grumbling of Steve’s snores that Eddie did fall asleep. Comforted by the beating of Steve’s pulse and the love in his heart, he closed his eyes and let himself slip away.

His siren didn’t love him, but Eddie could still hold him in his arms, and that was more than enough for him.

Chapter Text

“I’m truly sorry Man’s dominion has broken Nature’s social union,” - (To a Mouse) Robert Burns

March 21^st, 1786

Eddie woke up alone in a locked cell.

He thought… he doesn’t know what he thought. Steve didn’t love him, and he was still a bandit. Steve needed his bounty, and nothing was going to change that. No amount of love or blowjobs or fucks could change that. It was all bullshit, and Eddie couldn’t even be mad. All he felt was an overwhelming sense of sadness about his siren, who was still clearly so deep in his denial that he couldn’t let one single good thing last. It broke Eddie’s heart all over again, especially when Steve didn’t visit him. Instead, it was Eric, Lucas’s younger brother, who delivered him food and kept him company, if only for a few minutes at a time. The kid was much brattier than Lucas, and he sneered Eddie’s way at every opportunity.

“Lucas told me you were a pirate,” the boy eventually said, apparently deciding his unnecessary hatred for the bandit wasn’t worth all the energy it took to keep up the sneer. Eddie nodded. “Is it true that one of your crewmates was a man pretending to be a woman.”

“She was a woman who happened to be born a man.” He hated France with every fiber of his being, but he wasn’t going to throw away such important identities for his own grudge. Even if France deserved hellfire, not sympathy. “Sometimes that happens. The gods make a mistake, so it’s up to us mortals to fix it.”

“How do you know if you were born wrong?” The boy tilted his head, though he seemed to be avoiding Eddie’s gaze.

“No one’s born wrong just different, but if you’re asking how to know if you’re a woman or a man, I think it’s just who you are. You’re a woman, a man, or something else; it’s just how you feel inside.” Eric nodded in consideration, and Eddie smiled, “Trying on some skirts might also help.”

That was the last time he spoke to the kid, as night began to settle over the town. He tried searching for something to pick the lock with, tugging on the shirt Eric brought him that morning. Something about him needing to “cover his tits”.

He won’t lie, he kind of liked that little urchin.

“You look like shit.” Eddie flinched at the sound of a voice.

Wren was standing in the doorway, a kind smile across her face, but her eyes shined with something sad. Most people looked that way when staring at a dead man walking. The bandit stared back and smiled, though he imagined it too didn’t reach his eyes. After all, Steve had abandoned him.

“You’re about the last person I expected to visit me.” Eddie glanced at her heavy belly, “I thought Steven had you on house arrest.”

“Victoria and I have been staying with Lucas’s mother. Victoria was a nurse, so she’s offered to help care for the boy. Though, I will admit that I snuck out. I am supposed to be home; I’m due any day now.” She glanced at her stomach and frowned, “Steven told you what happened? How I became with child?”

“Yes, I’m sorry.”

“Wasn’t your doing.”

“I know, but you didn’t deserve that.” Wren huffed a small laugh and carefully walked to take a seat at Steve’s desk. She groaned as she sat.

“You didn’t deserve what Steven did to you.” Eddie stayed quiet but worked his jaw. Wren shook her head, “He told us his plan while you were riding ahead; that’s why Victoria rode up to try and stop you. I wish you had listened.”

“I’ve never been very bright.”

“Bullshit,” Wren said with a smirk, “I saw all those books in the hideaway, I saw all the books you carried on your horse. We brought her to the stables, by the way. Steven didn’t want her abandoned with some farmer.”

“Now she can be forced to watch my execution?”

“As if you aren’t planning your escape.” It was similar to something Steve would say, only Wren’s tone was much more teasing. “Bubble told me about how you picked the locks to your handcuffs. You’re telling me you can’t break out of this cage the same way?”

“They took my pins.” They even took his jewelry, leaving his wrist bare of the bracelet Steve made for him and his amulet missing, not that he needed the cursed thing anymore, not when it was really nothing more than a necklace.

“Sure,” the woman nodded, running a hand through her hair, “but are you sure they checked everything?” She procured a hair pin. Eddie’s eyes widened, as she tossed it his way. He reached through the bars to grab it then stuffed it into his boot.

“Why are you helping me?” She glanced at the wall, where wanted posters hanged.

“Steven first found a poster with your face on it three months ago, and he had you pinned up in his room—in the hallway—in his office.” She glanced at Eddie’s poster sitting atop the desk, “When he found you, he was so happy. He talked about finally bringing you to justice. Then, when you two came to rescue us, he looked so sad. Yet, he looked so free at the same time. He looked like he’d slept—like he had a full night’s rest. He hasn’t looked that way in years, and it’s because of you.” Wren shook her head, “I don’t pry. I know Bubble’s too stubborn to talk, but I know him like I know air. He likes you, and it’s tearing him apart what he’s doing to you.” She swallowed, “He planned this when you guys came here to take those horses. Got cornered by hunters and made the deal. I don’t expect you to forgive him, but please know he never wanted to hurt you. He thought he had no choice.”

“Isn’t he choiceless, though?” Eddie inquired, “If the money isn’t given, those hunters will stop at nothing to get you two.”

“I know,” Wren admitted, “but I’m not scared. I’ve killed enough of them to not be so afraid of them anymore.” Eddie’s eyes widened, “What? Did you think Steve did all the protecting? He may be good at catching bandits, but I’m a damn good shot.” She winked, and Eddie huffed a laugh. “But you’re right, we can’t fight forever.” A smile stretched across her face, “It’s why he left you this morning. He came up with a plan to get you out and get rid of the hunters, and we need your help.”

Eddie perked up, “I thought…”

“He figured it’d be better for you to be unaware until we finalized the plan. Lucas and Victoria are in on it as well, but Steve didn’t leave you, not truly. He just needed time to collect his thoughts. He…” she trailed off, “Just know he cares about you, and we’re trying our damn hardest to get you out of here.”

Steve could never fall in love with a woman due to his love for men, but Eddie could see why the man loved Wren so much.

“We predict your colleagues will be back in town by tomorrow. The hunters know and will be tasked in catching them, but tonight, you will break out of here.” She held up a hand to pause Eddie’s protests, “Steve is going to cover for you, but you will meet Victoria back to the hideout. She’s good with directions and knows her way back. She left this morning.”

“My hideout?”

“Then you will collect enough money from your hideout to cover your bounty and your friends’. We have the money you’ve already given us, but if we want to cover all these bounties and have enough leftover, we need more than those four bags. I know. It’s a selfish ask, begging you to give us your money, but Steven told me you offered. He told me you’d give more.”

“He was right.” Eddie would give anything for Steve, “Though if I leave, won’t Steven get in trouble? The hunters want my bounty just as much as they want my colleagues’.” Steve was always his top priority. The plan was decent so far, but Eddie wasn’t willing to risk the man’s life.

“I’ve got a plan for that. You just need to leave in the night. You’ll take Lydia and come back as soon as possible. It’s a two day ride, but that’s why Victoria left early. She will meet you at halfway. I gave her some fabric to set up a meeting point.” Eddie nodded along, not loving this plan even a bit. Then a thought came to his head.

“Why must I be there? If she can ride on her own?”

“Because your colleagues will show up any day now. They’re going to target you, so if they think you’re gone, then they may be thrown off guard. Easy to take down. As long as we get them in a cell where they belong.”

“It’s a shit plan.”

“You got a better one?” Eddie didn’t answer, even as his mind said yes, “I didn’t think so.” He did have a better plan. To stay and fight. He could kill his colleagues the moment they showed up, but Victoria was heading to the hideout, and he’d hate to leave a member of Steve’s family alone to fend for herself. He’d go, pick her up, and take her back right away. He didn’t need sleep, so he could do all the heavy lifting.

“Thank you, Wren.” The woman smiled.

“I’m glad Bubble found you. I hope you make each other happy.”

“He makes me happy,” Eddie assured.

“Just don’t break his heart, bandit. No dying, especially, okay?” She pointed at him, and Eddie did a joking salute, even as his heart grew heavy at the thought. “Good luck, Ed.” With that, she carefully stood. Eddie went ahead and unlocked his cell to help her out of the chair, “You were supposed to wait until after I left, Merry.”

“And you shouldn’t be out when you’re about to pop. Go home, kid.” The woman rolled her eyes and shoved Eddie away. “Tell Steven I said thanks, and that I love him.” It was her turn to salute.   

Eddie did not wait until nightfall to leave, deciding the low light of the setting sun was good enough. He wrapped a bandana around the lower half of his face and grabbed water and food for Lydia, nothing more or less. “How long can you go without a break, sweetheart?” He asked the gentle creature, as he readied her saddle. She huffed in response. “I’ll run the rest of the way if I have to. I won’t exhaust you, don’t worry.” He opened one of her saddlebags to store her food, and a folded piece of parchment fell out.

It was a map and a small note.

‘So you wouldn’t run into the other bandits’

-S.H.

There was a small heart drawn by Steve’s initials, and Eddie smirked at it before pocketing the note and giving the map a proper view. It was still a fine path to the hideout, but it cut around the straight, shorter path. The normal path would take two days; this one, Eddie predicted, would take no less than three. Especially considering Victoria and the horses would have to rest. Eddie wanted to throw the thing away, but he couldn’t leave that woman stranded, so he got atop Lydia and set off for his wicked destiny.

Looking back at what happened next, he’s reminded of something. His mom used to say that everything happened for a reason. She used to say that God had a plan, and that whatever happened was simply a steppingstone added to the path. She believed all humans had a fate, and everything done led to that fate. Eddie loves his mother, but he would like to call bullshit. While, yes, everything did happen for a reason, it wasn’t according to some fated design. Life wasn’t prewritten but a series of causes and effects. Maybe there were some set paths, but it was ultimately the results of one’s own actions which chose the path.

Eddie believed deciding to follow the plan and go after Victoria was his life switching to a wrong path. He knew… he knew deep in his gut it wasn’t the better option, but he didn’t have Aphrodite to talk sense into him, and he was clouded, once again, by love. Steve didn’t leave him; he was simply planning. Whatever gut feeling he had was muffled by the butterflies in his stomach. Then again, maybe he was pointing fingers and blaming everything but himself for his choices. He didn’t want to do it, but he went to his hideaway.

Steve would die because of him.

March 23^rd, 1786

To get to the hideout from Fool’s Gold was about a two day ride, but Victoria had left nearly an entire day before Eddie. Per the plan, she left a marker in the middle of the rounding path she built. It was a colorful strip of fabric wrapped around an old post. She carved her name into the wood for emphasis, as if it wasn’t an already obvious sign.

She wasn’t at the meet-up spot yet, not that Eddie expected her to be. Lydia and him only took one or two breaks, while Victoria likely had to sleep a full night. Hell, she probably stayed a night at the hideout. Plenty of food there for her. If Eddie needed rest, food, or water, he would’ve done the same thing put into her shoes. He didn’t need rest; he needed to get back to Steve.

Lydia was resting instead. The horse took the time to rest, as the day went on. Someone, probably Steve, thought ahead long enough to throw a book into Lydia’s saddle. Eddie found it when he was searching for some bread for Lydia. ‘Romeo & Juliet’. It made him snort. Reading the play didn’t really help the time go by faster, as he had the thing practically memorized by now, but it was still a nice touch, as was them including his journal, weapons, and writing utensils.  

He drew Steve, as he always found himself doing, but then he wrote a letter. Figuring, if this was finally going to work, and if this would finally be the century he broke the curse, Steve deserved an explanation. An apology as well.

Aphrodite once scolded him for expressing his guilt for Steve. She told him that he had it far worse, as he was the one who had to live without his love and experience the loss of being immortal. He believes she might have been so harsh due to jealousy, but either way, he disagreed.

According to the goddess, Steve’s soul, in between lives, was either in the afterlife or in the waiting room in between lives. To explain how the afterlife worked, usually reincarnation took place within a few years after a person initially died. For Steve, to keep up with the curse, he would only reincarnate during the year of his original birth at the start of the curse. For Steve, it was year 66. He died in 86.

In between lives, Steve was dormant in the afterlife’s waiting room for 80 years. That was 80 years doing nothing. Doing nothing but waiting for his soul to be allowed to move on. More than that, as soon as the curse is lifted, Steve will be able to remember everything that occurred between the curse being enacted and the curse being broken. He would inevitably remember the hell of the waiting room, the pain of dying, and all his trauma from each life. Sure, Eddie’s been through a lot, but he had the mercy of living long enough to feel numb to the pain. Steve wouldn’t have the instant wisdom of being centuries old. He would only have twenty years and centuries of boredom, doing nothing but waiting for another door to open.

“Do you think he’d ever forgive me?” He asked Lydia, who was chewing on some dried grass. “You always know just what to say.”

He wrote until the sun began to set, built a fire, then wrote some more. He continued until he decided it was likely too dark for Victoria to show up, so he readied himself to dream the night away when hoofbeats pounded in the distance. He looked up and saw the shadow of someone approaching, and he grabbed his gun just in case.

The weapon fell back to the ground when Victoria’s red hair began to shine in the firelight. Eddie squinted up at her, “Bonjour,” he greeted with a smile. She hopped off her horse, a black beauty, and her eyes widened along with a smile.

“Oh, parlez-vous francais?! Je ne savais pas. Wren ne m’a pas dit,” She spoke with a smile and her hands on her hips. Eddie winced.

“Bonjour?” Her smile dropped into a disappointed frown, “I was joking, sorry.” He stood and looked behind her horse, as she muttered to herself angrily. Attached to her horse’s saddle by ropes was a large canvas tarp with rope. When Eddie peaked inside, he saw a small mountain of treasures. “Damn…”

“It is a large number, but so is the hunters.” Victoria stood at Eddie’s side, “We can give money when things go bad.”

“You mean if things go bad?” Eddie looked at her from where he was still crouched close to the ground.

“That is what I said.” Eddie tilted his head and invited her to sit on the ground. In his many years alive, he knew many people who weren’t well spoken in English. Victoria was one of them, but she was the only one stubborn enough to not accept any corrections or advice. Each time Eddie corrected her, she squinted and insisted ‘That is what I said’. Sure, it was only because of her that Eddie learned French, but she was very straight cut. Only if she was with Wren did she even laugh.

“Thank you for warning me, even if I didn’t listen,” Eddie mentioned while the woman was eating rabbit jerky from one of her bags. She took that and some jam from his hideout.

“Steven got mad, but he is, uh… comment dit-on… idiot amoureux… uh, idiot!” She smiled proudly. Eddie laughed.

“Amoureux?” He questioned with a tilt of his head, still wearing a bemused smirk.

“Yes, he is an idiot, and he is an idiot amoureux.”

“Do you know the English translation?” He tried, and she blanched. “You and Wren are together, forgive me for assuming your English would be better.”

“Mon amour speaks French,” she replied, “It was the strict way we could, uh, escape with the family around. In New York. In here, the people are kind.”

“Amour?” Eddie tilted his head, “Does that mean love?” He met a man who spoke French many years ago. It was somewhere in the Caribbean, the dialect was different from the kind Victoria was using, and the man was good at English. The only French he strictly used was calling his wife ‘mon amour’.

“Yes!” Victoria clapped her hands together, “That is it. You are each an idiot in love. Idiot amoureux.” Eddie avoided her gaze, and he knew the heat rising to his cheeks wasn’t from the fire in front of them.  

“I suppose I am an idiot in love. Steven’s my one true weakness,” he confessed as he poked the flames with a stick.

“Both are. I said you each. He is the idiot too.” She shrugged then took a long drink from her flask. Eddie could smell the, of all things, wine from where he sat. He wondered how long the woman had been hoarding wine and how much of it she was holding to be able to drink it from a flask like one would with water. It probably didn’t taste good with this heat, but the woman still sighed pleasantly. “Idiots in love, Steven and you.”

“What makes you say that?”

“He has your picture in the pocket.” Eddie finally looked away from the fire. “Wren did not find. She is with child and cannot do laundry. Steven has your picture in the pocket. Not just over the walls, he carries you wherever he is.” She said it so simply, and Eddie looked back to the fire. A full smile stretched across his face—so wide that it hurt.

Steve denied it, and he didn’t say he loved Eddie when they slept together, but there was no more doubt in his mind. Steve loved him. He really did.

March 25^th, 1786

Eddie got used to Victoria pretty quickly. Sure, the woman was dry-humored, stubborn, didn’t like to speak, and was, well, French, but they got along well once Eddie told her he spoke a little bit of Spanish. She didn’t know any Spanish, but she insisted he could learn French if he knew Spanish. It made him glad he didn’t mention also knowing Latin; she probably would’ve force started lessons then and there.

He also spoke Greek because Aphrodite insisted, he learned so they could have “secret conversations”. Apparently, his pronunciation was so bad she gave up on that idea, but he could understand her when she spoke her native tongue. Well, almost native tongue. Ancient Greek and modern Greek were very different from one another, and the goddess spoke both. The more he learned, the more “secret conversations” they had in all kinds of languages.

Victoria, in a way, reminded Eddie of Aphrodite. Straight cut and to the point, beautiful, and easily annoyed by Eddie no matter what he did.

“I am not saying you need to cut your hair. I am saying you look ugly.” Victoria brushed at her own hair, which she took down from its original bun to better cover her scalp with a hat.

“Yes, but can you see my confusion? You said, I don’t like your hair, and you look ugly. Are you saying my hair is making me ugly?” He didn’t know why he was trying to defend his looks to a sapphic woman, but there wasn’t much else to do.

“No, I am saying you look ugly.” She frowned at him, as if he was an idiot.

“Gods, you’re so…” he trailed off, looking ahead. Victoria immediately asked what he was doing. Well, he assumed that was what she asked, as it was in French. He merely shushed her and stopped Lydia. Victoria stopped in her tracks, and the bags attached to her saddle rang from gold bars and coins clinking together. When all noise stopped but the desert wind, Eddie heard something. A vibration in the air. Horses.

“Run,” he spoke before kicking Lydia’s side with his heel. The horse jumped to life and began into a spring, and he heard Lydia quickly follow. It didn’t take long for a gunshot to ring through the air. There was nothing for it to echo against, so the sound reverberated through Eddie’s skull instead. He heard a crash and turned around. Victoria hadn’t been shot, but her horse had. It tumbled down with her on it, and she was lying in the dirt staring at the poor creature.

Even when Eddie was the cruelest man on the seven seas, he had a strict no-man-left behind policy. He had it in his Merry Doctrine, so he instantly turned back to where Victoria was lying there.

“The prize!” She pointed to the bags, clearly too stressed to remember the proper word.

“We’re not too far from Fool’s Gold, we can come back later. Just get on!” He held out his hand, but before she could grab it, an arrow shot through his wrist, smashing apart bones and veins into a bloody mess. He shouted in pain but quickly reached for his gun, looking towards where Benjamin, Mato, and John. Mato raised his bow, and John raised his gun.

Eddie leapt off Lydia. It wasn’t to dodge the bullets for himself, of course; it was to not make Lydia the next victim of a poorly aimed bullet. He grabbed one of his bags on the way down and threw it around his shoulder. He leapt behind the horse carcass on the ground. Lydia stayed, albeit moving far away from the bandits’ targets.

He first checked on Victoria before handing her his spare gun. She took it and fire back, missing completely. Eddie cursed and fired, hitting John’s thigh, as his aim wasn’t as good with his left hand. He shot once more, hitting Mato in the arm. Before he could shoot again, Benjamin had his gun raised. A bullet went through Eddie’s only healed hand, forcing him to drop his guns with two missing limbs. He was bleeding all over the place, and Victoria dropped her gun while raising her arms to the sky, not wanting to receive the same fate.

“Tie her up,” John ordered Benjamin. The man got off his horse and eyed Eddie. He could see the apology on the tip of his tongue, but the man stayed silent, quickly tying Victoria’s arms around her back. The woman looked at him, fear clouding her normally mirthful eyes.

“You really thought you could win, Ed?” John asked, removing the gold from Victoria’s horse. Mato was chasing after Lydia as the man spoke, ready to lasso her to get the gold from her saddle as well. “I wish I could say your betrayal was hurtful, but it wasn’t. We were never that close, and you know damn well I would’ve killed you years ago if you weren’t a better shot than I. Hell, I wanted to challenge you to a duel before all this happened—”

“I’ve never lost a duel.”

“First time for everything.” The man smiled, showing off wrinkles and devilish eyes. Eddie sneered, while the man tipped his hat, “Well, it’s too bad I’ll never get the chance.”

It was a point blank shot, one that any man would aim at the head with, but John was cruel, and he hated Eddie even before the betrayal. It was for this reason that the bullet went through his abdomen. Eddie fell with the force of it, feeling blood already start to pour from the wound. He choked on metallic substance, unable to block the pour without hands, and he looked at Victoria, who was crying as she was forcibly tied to Lydia’s saddle. The horse roared and stopped her feet, but Mato had her well reined.

“It was nice knowing you, Ed.” John tipped his hat and got onto his horse, “Now, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll pay a nice visit to your little boyfriend back in Fool’s Gold.”

Eddie, with his hand healing, weakly raised his middle finger, as they rode off. Each man had to tie Lydia up just to get her moving along with them. By the time they were no bigger than flies in the distance, Eddie’s neck and hands healed.  

When they were ambushed, Victoria and he wasn’t far from Fool’s Gold, only a few miles away. Eddie knew it wouldn’t take the horses long to travel, and he knew he wouldn’t have much time once the bandits got there to save Steve. So, with a tight set to his jaw, Eddie grabbed his bag, their weapons, the bullets from his now broken gun, and his hat, which flew off when he fell. Looking at the afternoon sun, he wondered how long it’d take him to get there, considering he didn’t need food, water, rest, or to pace himself. He could sprint and get there soon.

Running through the desert, powers or not, was no easy feat. The dirt was loose, and his shoes were heavy weight, steel toed boots. They dug into the ground with each step, and it was only when he hit a well-used pathway that he finally picked up speed. He growled at the sun for blinding him and cursed his legs for not being faster. Perhaps he traveled too often by horse, or perhaps his sea legs were still there even after all these years. Whatever it was, he was falling behind. The sun had sunken in more, and it was just nearing sundown when he finally arrived at town. He saw the bandits’ horses tied to posts at the stable, and he approached the main street with his gun cocked and his eyes peeled.

Before he could spot anything amidst, there were gunshots. Eddie ducked behind a nearby barrel and saw a hunter firing his gun from a window. He heard shouts, and an arrow whistled through the air, striking one of the hunters and making him fall. Some more of the hunters hid in buildings, and Eddie cursed before running down one of the side streets.  

He ran to the sheriff’s office, not seeing a better idea. Once inside, he slammed the door shut behind him, keeping his gun raised, especially as the gunfire outside halted. “Hello?” He spoke in a hushed tone, as he walked deeper into the building. It wasn’t a large place, but there were plenty of spots to hide and wait for an ambush.

The office door was closed, and Eddie eased it open with his shoulder just to be tackled to the ground. He fell with a sharp groan, his gun clattered out of his hand, and after briefly catching his breath, he opened his eyes.

“Ed,” Steve dropped his own gun and slouched in relief, “oh thank God!” He was straddling Eddie’s hips when he leaned down to yank him up into a kiss. Eddie, briefly blown away, kissed back and properly sat up with Steve still in his lap. The sheriff pulled away with a gasp, “When you weren’t with them, I had thought…” he shook his head, “God, I don’t know. Victoria is tied up in that burnt up saloon. Everyone else is at Lucas’s house. I came here to grab guns and some supplies. Everyone is staying indoors, but the bandits and hunters are going insane. They tried talking, but next thing we know, there are gunshots and all hell breaking—” he cut himself off, frowning at Eddie’s shirt. “Fuck, are you hurt?!”

Eddie tried to block the man’s searching hands, tugging at his shirt to find any injury, “I’m fine! I’m uninjured!”

“You’re covered in blood, Ed!”

“I’m not!” Steve blanched, “Truly, I’m not, it…” he licked his lips—never good at lying to Steve, was he? “Victoria carries wine in her flask, and a bullet broke it. It spilled all over me, but it’s not blood.” It was so obviously blood, drying brown with a metallic scent. Steve looked skeptical but accepted the answer. Eddie squeezed his arms to rerail the sheriff’s clearly racing thoughts, “What do we do now, darling?”

Steve blinked twice then shook his head, “Uh, now we go back to Lucas’s with the weapons and confront the hunters. They’ll let me get close because they still think I’m on their side. By the way, it’s been damn difficult not letting them find out you were gone.” Much to Eddie’s chagrin, Steve got off his lap and offered his hand. Eddie took it and stood.

“Steven, wait.” Eddie grabbed the man’s wrist, “Do you have a plan?”

He tilted his head side to side, “More or less.” Eddie clenched his jaw. “What? As if you ever have a plan, Dead Ed.” It’s true. Most of Eddie’s “plans” involved throwing caution to the wind and hoping for the best. It came with the property of being immortal, though he was also just as, if not more, impulsive as a mortal pirate.

“I do have a plan,” he confirmed. Steve seemed taken aback. “Surely, you don’t think of me as a big enough idiot that I wouldn’t have a plan, yes?”

The sheriff frowned, “Not an idiot, just someone who often follows their heart more than their brain.” He blushed for a moment, “O-or… forget it, what is this plan?”

“You do need to talk to those hunters,” Steve nodded along, “but we need to do something first.” He smiled, couldn’t help it.

“Do what?” The man seemed skeptical, borderline frightened, by Eddie’s mischievous smile.  

“You’re going to have to become a bandit, sweetheart.”

Steve didn’t immediately say no, but he did huff and cross his arms, “I knew you were going to be a bad influence, Merry.”

“What can I say?” Eddie pressed a chaste kiss to the other man’s lips, “I like rubbing off on you.” The sheriff shoved him away while rolling his eyes. Eddie cackled and grabbed one of the spare guns Steve had been piling together. His sword was in the mix, and he nearly kissed its blade before putting it in his belt.

He had a good feeling about this.

***

The horses were tied in their same positions, luckily unguarded. Lydia was amongst them, yanking at her bonds to try and get loose. Steve cursed behind Eddie, promising to himself that the bandits would hang. Eddie smiled then looked across the road. The shooting had long stopped, but he figured the hunters were probably on their way back. He looked to Steve and tilted his head. They went the long way, hiding behind barrels and buildings, exposing themselves to the open air only once or twice before reaching the stable. The burnt saloon was right next door.

“I’ll get the money and the horses, you get Victoria,” Eddie whispered. Steve agreed with a simple nod before traversing forward. Eddie could hear the faint snarky tone in Victoria’s voice.

“If I am taken any more times, I will kill that man!” She shouted, as Steve helplessly shushed her. Eddie laughed and greeted Lydia and the other horses. They had retied the bounty to be equally distributed among each horse, so Eddie kept one tied to Lydia and kept the others on standby for Victoria and Steve.

Truth be told, while Eddie’s memory is near perfect due to the curse, and while he tended to try his best to be detailed oriented, his mind tended to be narrowed in focus in tense situations. He forgot he was shot in the neck despite being coated in blood, so when Victoria screamed and punched him, screaming about a fantôme. Eddie groaned and held his nose, as it healed.

“What the fuck?” He looked at the woman, eyes widening when he realized why she was freaking out. “Victoria, I can explain.”

“You are… the…” she searched for the word, muttering to herself in French, “the monster! You are dead!” Eddie winced and looked at Steve, who looked utterly confused. That is until the sheriff directly asked Eddie what happened. Victoria was more than happy to answer, “He was hit by the gun!” Eddie mentally punched himself in the face. They didn’t have time for this!

“Victoria, that didn’t happen. I was shot, but it was only a small graze. I just bled a lot because I bleed a lot.” He winced at his paper-thin lie, “Your wine spilled as well. I promise, nothing bad happened. I’m alive. I’m not hurt. They just knocked me out for a bit.” She still looked skeptical, so Eddie pulled up his shirt to show his unblemished belly. The woman clenched her jaw, and Eddie knew she wasn’t going to buy any of his bullshit. “Listen, it’s either you come with us or stay here and get hit by a gun, as you said. Your choice!”

“Fils de pute,” she muttered but climbed onto Mato’s horse. Steve got onto Lydia, and Eddie got onto Benjamin’s. Lucas’s house was near the sheriff station, but they had to go the long way to avoid the main roads. They didn’t run to not kick up dust and shortly arrived at a small house. Steve got off Lydia and knocked on the door. A black, thin woman with kind eyes and braided hair opened the door. Those kind eyes widened.

“Steven Henderson, I pray that I’m hallucinating and that you aren’t bringing a criminal into my home.” The woman smiled as she said this, sneering only when she looked at Eddie.

“He’s a good egg, Mrs. Stanton. He helped me with the hunters, helped me save Wren, Victoria, and your son, and he’s just helped me rescue Victoria a second time. I swear, he won’t bring any harm to you.”

“I’ll even give you gold for the trouble.” Eddie reached into his satchel and held up a gold bar. The woman’s eyes widened, and she snatched it from his hands.

“Come on in.” Steve looked Eddie’s way, and the man winked in response. He relished in the pink hue that rose to Steve’s cheek before walking deeper into the house. It was decently sized, with two bedrooms, a kitchen, and a small dining room. Lucas was sitting on one of the beds with Eric tending to his injuries. Eddie smiled seeing the young child wearing a skirt, tending to their older brother.

“I see you tried the skirt.” Eric jumped and turned around, eyes wide, “It looks nice on you, honey. Don’t worry.” The young child smiled and nodded, as Eddie continued down the hall to the kitchen. Steve leaned against a large chest. Eddie could see Wren in what he guessed was Mrs. Stanton’s bed. The woman sat up as soon as Victoria rushed into the room, and it looked like they were having a rushed conversation. They were speaking in French.

“So,” Steve leaned against the kitchen counter, “what’s the rest of the plan, bandit?” Some candles were lit to battle the setting sun, and Eddie purposefully shifted over as to not cast shadows on the sheriff’s lovely face.

“By the sounds of it, their shoot out is long done and over with. My ex-colleagues are probably lying low if they’re not dead, though I doubt we’re that lucky. We’ll go to the inn where the hunters are staying, and we’ll give them the gold we stole in exchange of leaving town. Then, we’ll kill my colleagues.” Steve’s eyes widened, as if Eddie hadn’t made his murderous tendencies incredibly clear by now, “It has to be done, Steven. Their bounties are given dead or alive, and it’s not safe with them living. Leave me to go after them, though.”

“There’s no way in hell—”

“Trust me, Steven. None of them can beat me in a fight. I’m a better shot, got a better fist, I’m a better swordsman, and I’m quick on my feet.” He could tell by Steve’s expression that the man didn’t like the plan. “It’s the only way. I’ll go after them while you talk to the hunters. Two birds, one stone.”

“There is no way in hell I’m letting you go after them alone, Ed.” Eddie clenched his jaw, “No, you can’t change my mind. We’ll go to the hunters together, and we’ll go after the bandits together. End of story.” His expression didn’t leave any room for argument, and they were caught in a staring contest before Wren called Steve into the other room. “End of story, Ed.”

End of story, Eddie just didn’t want to risk ending Steve’s.

When Steve entered the bedroom, Victoria walked out, and before Eddie could say anything, she grabbed his arm and dragged him out through the front door. She forced them beside the chicken coop and leveled Eddie with a stare.

“You died.” She got right to the point. Eddie glanced over her shoulder to make sure the door was shut. She forced his head back to face her, “I am not idiot like you. You died. I saw the blood, and I saw your hands…” she struggled for the word before simply putting her hands together and throwing them up in a dramatic fashion, “boom! Blood everywhere! You healed without a scratch. You are monster!” She stabbed his chest with her pointed finger.

“I’m not a monster.” He glanced over her shoulder once more before grabbing her arms to pull her even further from the building. “I’m immortal.”

“Immortel?” She muttered something beneath her breath, “You are… you do not die?”

“And I am invincible.”

“Mon Dieu,” she pressed a hand to her heart, “but that… that is not possible, no?” The woman looked to the ground. Eddie has told many people in his life about his abilities. It was always like in this instance, where circumstances or exposure to his powers forced him to confess. He didn’t age, never got injured, and never died, so the truth had to come out at some point or another. She was taking the news better than most.

“I’m cursed,” Eddie explained further, “I am cursed to live forever unless I can save my soulmate.” Victoria frowned then let her jaw drop.

“Idiot amoureux, it is Steven.”

There was no use lying anymore, “Yes, I have to save him.” She nodded in understanding, swallowed, then snatched his hand to then grasp it tightly in hers.

“Do not let him go after the hunters! The bandits—they will hurt him! You have to make sure he lives!”

“Trust me, that’s at the top of my priority list, but I—” the door opened, and the two jumped apart as if nothing was afoot.

Steve stood in the light of the house, and he had a smirk on his face. “A homosexual man and a sapphic woman having an affair? I don’t know whether to be heartbroken or impressed.” He put a hand to his heart.

“You cannot stop our love, Steven.” Eddie moved to put an arm around Victoria’s shoulders, but apparently the woman wasn’t a fan of sarcasm. She elbowed Eddie in the gut and walked away as he hunched over.

“Idiots!” She slammed the door shut behind her. Steve laughed and ran to help Eddie stand up straight.

“What were you two talking about, anyway?” Steve asked, as he let Eddie lean against him. Eddie didn’t need any assistance but let the sheriff wrap his arm around his shoulder for support.

“She wanted to know my plan, and she agrees with me that you should leave the fighting to me. Ow!” Steve pinched his arm.

“Not a chance, bandit.” They walked back inside, where Mrs. Stanton was putting their weapons out on the table. Eddie still had his gun, sword, and satchel, but there she laid a few more options, including throwing knifes, which he was very tempted by. He looked at Steve, who sheepishly looked away.

“Don’t look too impressed. Those are Wren’s.” Eddie’s jaw dropped, and he almost wished he had another month if only for the woman to give birth and heal then show him her skills. He knew how to throw knives, though his aim wasn’t the best at the time.

“Are we leaving now, then?” Steve shook his head.

“We’re preparing now but leaving in the morning. The bandits will be hiding in the daylight, and the hunters will hopefully be in a better mood. We’ll sleep in my office tonight, which means sneaking back, but it’s just down the street.” Eddie tried not to look too excited, “Don’t give me that look. We need to rest and be ready, get your mind out of the dirt.”

“Can’t help it if you’re so charming, darling.” Steve shoved him away when Eddie leaned in close with a teasing smile. He laughed and shook his head, “Alright, it sounds like a plan. We should bring the weapons with us just in case.” Steve agreed, and they soon set off for the sheriff’s building. They didn’t move as stealthily as they probably should’ve, but there were many things that hadn’t occurred to them, like whether the bandits had more gold than what they’d stolen, and why did the fight between the hunters and the bandits end so abruptly.  

Well, you pin two incredibly, morally grey individuals that hate you against each other, an unwanted outcome was incredibly probable. Just as probable as getting ambushed the moment they stepped into the alleyway near the inn. Steve was knocked out, and a bag was placed over Eddie’s head. They hit the side of his skull, but he continued to thrash, unwilling to pretend to be knocked out when he had no idea what was happening to Steve. Soon enough, someone stabbed him through the thigh and again through his opposite leg’s calf, and he was forced to fall to one knee, as they tied up his arms and legs. He let himself fall limp when he heard a voice shout, “We got em!”

Eddie felt his blood run cold. It was a hunter’s voice, but that’s not what made him fill with fear. It was the approaching footsteps, the kind of a man with a limp, like the one somebody might have had they been shot in the thigh.

“Who’s the other one?” John’s voice rang through the air, “I didn’t know there were any more cops in—” he cut himself off when he lifted the bag off of Eddie’s head. He looked like he’d seen a ghost.

It was always like this, where circumstances or exposure of his powers forced him to be demonized. “What the fuck?!”

Chapter Text

"You keep your distance via the system of touch

And gentle persuasion.

I'm lost in admiration, could I need you this much?"

Head Over Heels by Tears for Fears

March 26^th, 1786

Eddie was not only in a cell but tied to the bars of his cell. Not only that, but two hunters were holding his arms. Steve was in another room, and Eddie strained his ears with all his might, as if he could hear the man’s very thoughts and question if he was okay. He cursed his powers for not giving him more strength. He fought and fought endlessly, but they outnumbered him ten to one, and the moment one of the hunters pressed a gun to Steve’s head in a silent threat, he had calmed down.

“What are you?” John asked, voice shaking. Of the bandits, the only one who didn’t look scared was Mato, who stared at Eddie like he knew his secrets. “Well?”

“I’m human, as I told you.” He wasn’t going to tell them anything. “It was a trick. I’m good with tricks, remember?” They had taken his blood covered shirt to use as evidence for the hunters that he was some kind of inhuman thing .  The hunters were frightened of him, but they had Steve, so they knew he wouldn’t fight any more. “I had blood in a flask and some old meat. I used that to make my stomach appear ripped and to make my hands seem covered in blood. I ran out of bullets, that’s why I had to play dead instead of attack you then and there.”

“Bullets? Do you expect me to believe that? You would’ve used your knife or your sword. You’re better than that.”

“I am telling the truth, John. I’m human. I bleed red, and I get hurt just as you do. You’ve seen my scars; you know how weak I can be.” He tilted his head, lip slightly tucked inside his mouth and eyes wide, “I’m nothing but a man. Stronger than most and cleverer than most, but a man all the same.”

“He’s never lost a duel. Always had some kind of trick we never saw,” Benjamin pointed out, making John snap his head to the side, “I’m just saying. I know you… I agree that something happened, but Ed does have tricks.”

“You didn’t shoot him, Benjamin. I did.” John clenched his jaw, “I saw the flesh rip apart, as the bullet tore through his gut. There was blood, and there was flesh ripped apart, but now his stomach is spotless. His hands are unblemished.” He motioned to those very hands. Eddie clenched his jaw. “Are you a witch?”

“I’m not a witch.” Eddie looked up at the man, “I am human, but I will bring you to hellfire all the same if you don’t let me see Steven.” He glared with all his might, and Benjamin stepped in.

“How about we bring Steven back in here? Talk this out, huh?” He requested, and John scowled.

“I didn’t take you for a coward, Benjamin.”

“I didn’t take you to be unnecessarily cruel!” Benjamin countered, “I came back here for the money Ed stole. I didn’t come here for you to kill our friend and accuse him of… fucking witchcraft?! He’s not a witch; he’s a trickster!”

“You can call him friend and call for a deal to be made all you want. I came here for blood, and it’s blood I will have.” He tilted his head then and smiled awfully, “In fact, what are we doing interrogating him? We all know how to solve our little mystery.” With that, he shoved Benjamin out of the way, grabbed and cocked his gun, and pointed it directly at Eddie’s head. Eddie shut his eyes, ready to face the backlash of a room full of men calling him a witch, but the gunshot that followed didn’t come from Ben’s gun.

“Where that noise?” Mato asked, looking around and putting an arrow on his bow. Benjamin moved out of the way, glaring at John, as the white man walked towards the door leading to the next room. All Eddie could do was hold his breath, knowing the shot came from the same room Steve was in.

John fell to the floor as soon as he touched the handle, as the door was kicked open. Steve, with handcuffs hanging off of one hand and a gun in the other, stepped through the doorway. He had one of the hunters clutched in his arm with the gun aimed at the man’s head. There was blood on his shirt and on the hunter. “Everyone drop your weapons.” He aimed the gun straight at John, who dropped his gun and held his hands up. Steve shoved the hunter forward and tossed a gun inside the cell. “Untie yourself, Ed.” Eddie did as he was told, grabbing the gun and holding it up, as he stepped outside the cell. As soon as he did, John pulled another gun out of God knows where. He had it pointed at Steve. Eddie pointed his gun at John. Steve pulled out another gun, likely from the other hunter, and Eddie quickly snatched John’s abandoned gun from the ground.

By the time Steve and Eddie had their weapons raised in both hands, Benjamin had pulled out his own gun. Mato had his bow at the read, while one of the hunters—the only one still with a weapon—held up a revolver. Two guns on Eddie and Steve each, and one gun on each enemy.  

“Quite the standoff we have here,” Eddie pointed out, eyeing each individual man with a squinted eye. He sneered openly, “Still want to test your theory, John?”

“Depends,” he looked over at Eddie, “does your pretty partner here have the same magic as you?” He tilted his head and re-aimed his gun for Steve’s abdomen. Eddie clenched his jaw and shut his mouth, while Benjamin cleared his throat.

“I reckon we could have that talk now. Come to some solution for all our problems,” Benjamin offered up, head tilted to the side, as he put away his gun. “You’ve got money, Ed. How about you pay off the hunters, you give us some money to rebuild, and we’ll be on our way. We won’t bother y’all.”

“Bullshit,” Eddie claimed.

“I swear it—”

“I don’t,” John interrupted, laughing when Benjamin looked at him with wide eyes. “I don’t swear or promise shit.” He looked at Eddie, something cruel in his eyes, as he bared his teeth, “For years, I’ve been following this bastard around. Watching as he displayed nothing but cowardice. Can’t steal from the poor, can’t kill some Indians that wanted to kill us first. Hell, we ain’t even allowed to shoot the horses of our enemies. All because this pansy is too much of a coward to do what needs to be done. How much money of ours do you throw away, Ed? How much have you given to some slaves and indians? How much do you give to some brats in the street? You’re a bandit, but you’ve never acted like one. All you do is shoot some sheriffs, yet you don’t even shoot the damn deputies.” He chuckled lowly, “I’ve been wanting to kill you for years, Ed. If it weren’t for Dee’s loyalty to you—for Ben and Mato’s loyalty to you, I would’ve done it ages ago. As it stands now, we’d make a hell of a lot of money killing you.”

“We could give you more,” Steve said.

“Yeah, but no amount of money can measure up to the satisfaction of finally seeing you buried, Ed.” John smiled then, and Eddie smiled right back.

“It’s not my fault you’re so much of an idiot, you can’t seem to understand the difference between petty crime and becoming a legend. Will the history books remember you for robbing a few banks? Or will they remember me for doing something that deserves to be remembered?” John growled and took a step forward, Eddie fiddled with his trigger, “Watch yourself, John.”

“Let’s just shoot them, get it over with!” The hunter piped up. It was the same one who captured Eddie, “I don’t care where the money comes from—bounties or Mr. Henderson. Payment is due.”

“We’ll give you your money,” Steve swore, but then, he frowned. He looked down for a moment, “Might I ask something from you? Two questions, I swear.”

“What?”

“My father has already paid you, yes?”

The hunter, clearly confused by the question, shuffled where he stood. “Half he paid us for travel and time; he’ll give us the rest once the job is done.”

“If you were to turn these three men in, would you have enough money for your satisfaction?”

“The hell are you trying at here, boy?!” John demanded.

“Let him answer!” Steve barked. The hunter’s frown deepened, and he pointedly glanced at the dead hunter in the other room and the remaining living one, who had his knife out now. If Eddie had to guess, the number of assassins was down to four—

“Fuck!” Benjamin shouted and jumped, as the hunter shot the only one left in the room. Down to three now.

“Now I reckon it’d be enough, maybe a couple extra thousand to give to the families of these blokes.” He tilted his head, and Eddie noted the crazed look in his eye. Some killers were cruel, but some were simply mad. This one was simply mad. “Why do you ask?”

Steve considered for a moment then lowered his guns. Eddie’s eyes widened, “What are you doing?!”

“Just trust me.” Curse Steve’s siren song. Eddie lowered his guns. John and the Hunter hesitantly did the same. “I have a proposition.”

“What is it?” The hunter asked.

“It’s not for you, it’s for you.” He looked at John, who squinted and tilted his chin upwards to signal Steve to continue. “I want to challenge you to a duel.” Eddie grabbed Steve’s hand, huffing when the sheriff immediately twisted his arm away and took a challenged step forward. Everyone but John took a step back, and Steve, the maniac, got right up into the man’s face.

“I ain’t dueling Ed—”

“You’d be dueling me, only me.” Steve stuck his nose up, “Duel me tomorrow at noon. I win, then you, Benjamin, and Mato all get to go with the hunters, who will be given extra money as promised.”

“And when I win?” John asked with an arrogant smile.

“You get to kill me, the man Eddie loves.” Eddie inhaled sharply, “The hunters get to take my body back to my father, get Eddie’s bounty, and Eddie gives you the location of all his hideouts. You can have all the money you want.” Eddie held his breath, as John chuckled.

“Your boy’s a spitfire, Ed.” He spoke to Eddie then returned his attention to Steve. He spat in his palm then thrusted the hand between them, “It’s a deal, Sheriff Henderson.” Steve spat in his own hand and took John’s in a shake. “Tomorrow at noon.”

“We duel,” Steve concluded. Just like that, all tension left the room. John, tonguing his canine, stepped away and glanced at Eddie.

“See you soon, Dead Ed.” He began laughing as if he heard the funniest joke. Mato joined him hesitantly. The hunter tipped his hat, and Benjamin stopped in the doorway.

“If you win, kill me,” he requested of Steve, “I’d rather go in dead than alive. The worst punishment for me isn’t death.” A strong man like Benjamin, there was no questioning why he asked this. The whip scar on his neck shined when he swallowed nervously, as if Steve was cruel enough to say no.

“I will,” he promised. The silence that fell upon the room with the door shutting behind their enemies lasted mere seconds before Eddie kicked one of the cell bars. The loud clash echoed against nothing, and the broken bone in his foot caused by the kick healed quickly. The pain helped ground Eddie before he turned to Steve.

“I know you’re not an idiot, so what the fuck was that?!” He shouted. Steve’s expression was neutral, as he crossed his arms, “John may be an imbecile, a horrible fighter, and an asshole, but he can still shoot a gun. Do you have any idea what you’ve gotten yourself into?!”

“Yeah, I got us a way out. Less fighting. Less casualties. Less damage. I’m good with a gun, Ed. I can handle myself fine.” Steve stepped towards his desk to sit on the edge.

“Have you dueled before?” Eddie asked. Steve smiled and opened his mouth just to close it.

“Well, I—”

“Have. You. Dueled. Before?” Eddie reiterated, eyes wide and dangerous.

“Not exactly,” Eddie threw his hands up and cursed to the ceiling and heavens beyond, “but you can help prepare me! You’ve been in lots of duels before!”

Eddie turned to him with an open jaw, “Yes! Exactly!” He pointed both hands at Steve, “So why the fuck would you offer yourself up for a duel?! Why didn’t you insist on me?!”

“John said he wouldn’t duel you!”

“John wasn’t the only man in the building, Steven! You could’ve challenged a hunter! They’re insane enough to challenge me!” He groaned and ran both hands through his hair, tugging at the strands, “Fuck, you beautiful fool.”

“If you’re that worried, then you can be my second.” Eddie let his arms drop and hang loosely at his sides. He blanched, and Steve frowned, “What?”

“I…” Eddie shook his head with a sigh, “I’m not going to even grace that with a response.” He walked into the other room, grimacing at the dead body on the ground. He heard the footsteps of Steve close behind him, “We’ll get your family and your deputy’s family at nightfall and ride to a different hideout of mine. If we’re lucky, we’ll get there before March 28th.”

“March 28th?” Steve asked.

“Day after tomorrow. Survive tomorrow, and you survive it all,” Eddie reached into the pockets of the dead hunter, pulling out some cash and a knife, which he pocketed. “We can even send some ahead, like Lucas and his family. They could probably escape first without us.” He nodded to himself and grabbed some bullets before stealing the man’s hat, as the last hunter had stolen his.

“Maybe they could, except I’m not running away.” Eddie stopped in his tracks and turned around. Steve held his head high, “This ends here and now, Ed. I’m tired of being hunted. I’m tired of hiding. I’m tired of cruel bandits and wearing a mask.” Eddie felt his expression soften, “I want to be with you. I want to live in peace, and as long as those bastards are alive, I won’t get that peace.”

Eddie cursed to himself, knowing he was at a standstill now. Steve was stubborn no matter the life, and he knew there was no changing his mind without kidnapping him again, but he supposed that likely wouldn’t go well with the man’s family. “You’re using my gun. It’s quicker than yours.”

Obviously, Eddie wasn’t going to let Steve duel, but until he could come up with an alternative, he had to play along. Though he had to admit, a part of the anger within him melted when Steve smiled wider than the desert horizon in response to Eddie’s allowance.

They went back to Lucas’s home to break the news to everyone. “You want to tell them, or shall I?” Eddie asked, holding Steve’s hand tightly.

“Wren is used to be doing dumb things. Maybe she’ll be forgiving,” Steve spoke out loud, though it felt as though he was only thinking to himself, “I shall tell her.” He nodded to emphasize his decision.

They rounded everyone in Lucas’s bedroom, as Wren was beginning to have trouble standing for too long, and the deputy had yet to build enough strength to stand for longer than a few minutes. Steve explained the story with far too many details, seemingly trying to justify his decisions and actions. At first, Eddie thought all the details worked and that their friends genuinely weren’t mad. Then, Wren threw a glass from her bedside table at Steve’s head. Steve ducked and jumped back up, “What the hell, Wren?!”

“You’re a goddamn idiot, Bubble! That’s what!” She shouted.

Lucas’s mom crossed her arms. “I agree with your wife, Steven.” Eddie glanced at his hand intertwined with Steve’s and frowned at the woman, “I know you’re all homosexuals, I am just stating fact. Your beau is acting like a fool, Ed. How could you let him do such a thing?”

“With all due respect, ma’am, Steven is as stubborn as a railroad spike. He has his mind set on something, then I’m incapable of moving him.” Eddie huffed, “Trust me, I gave him hell afterwards.”

“Hell? You yelled at me for a minute,” Steve pointed out, and Eddie mentally reminded himself that he was going soft.

“I can’t stay mad at you for long.” Normally such a statement is said in a flirtatious manner, but Eddie did not say it as such. He even looked to the floor and spoke in a flat, shameful tone.

“Idiots,” Victoria sang from her spot in the doorway. She was there to block Eric and Oliver from entering the room. Eddie stared at her, and she smiled and waved. “I am telling truth. Also, you protect him, no?” She pointed at Eddie then at Steve, who frowned, while Eddie face palmed. So much for secrets.

“What is she talking about?” Steve asked Eddie.

“I already told you I love you. Do you really need me to spell out how I would rather you not die? I want to protect you. What’s so wrong about that?” Eddie sounded defensive even to his own ears. It was easy to say because it was truthful, but hiding parts of the truth made him feel shameful. He needed to defend the small amount of lies he told until the full truth could come out. Steve seemed skeptical, but it was all beneath a deep blush.

“You’re an idiot,” Steve muttered and looked away. Wren made a gagging sound, while Lucas finally spoke up. His voice was weak.

“If you die in this duel, I’ll kill you,” he said with a smile. Steve smiled back.

“I expected nothing less, kid.” With that, Eddie and Steve went outside to practice. They grabbed plenty of empty bottles, having grabbed many from Steve’s own office to practice shooting outside. Eddie dragged over some empty crates and hay bales to place the bottles on top of.

“Remember, a duel only ends when someone yields or is dead. You want to aim where it matters,” Eddie explained, as Steve eyed the bottles now stacked together or in a line.

“I would argue speed is more important than aim.”

“We’ll be practicing both. Your duel is tomorrow; this isn’t about becoming an expert but good enough to beat John.” Eddie made sure the bottles were near where a middle point would be. The sun was luckily fairly high up, meaning they didn’t need to worry about Steve being blinded. “Now, step right up against the crate then take twenty steps back—”

“I thought it was ten?”

“Yes, but John will also be taking ten steps. Ten added to ten is twenty, though I supposed we should stop after ten so that you have a proper countdown,” Eddie thought out loud before nodding, “Yes, we’ll do that. Count to ten, stop, and then I’ll count you down the rest of the way.”

“Okay, and when you reach ten?” Steve asked carefully. A part of Eddie was worried about the man asking such an obvious question, but Steve was being so genuine that he couldn’t possibly let his worries overcrowd his mind. It reminded him of when he taught Stephen how to swim and sword fight. It was all so endearing and sweet.

“Turn and fire as quickly as you can, aiming for the bottles. Speed and precision, Steven. You get those on lock, and this duel will be a breeze.” He walked twenty paces away from the bottles then, leaving Steve to stand in front. “Turn around and walk ten paces.” Steve did as told, counting beneath his breath. “You ready?”

“Ready!” Steve confirmed, holding the gun to his chest.

“This isn’t a normal duel, love. Don’t hold your gun to your chest; this isn’t law school. There aren’t such strict rules out here.”

“Where do you hold your gun?” Steve let his arm drop to his side as he asked the question. Eddie smiled and held up Steve’s gun, as they had traded.

“I keep my gun in my holster, but that’s because I like to show off.” Steve rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“It’s a miracle you’ve survived this long,” the sheriff drawled with a smirk.

“My life is a blessing and a curse, darling.” Mostly a curse, but he supposed that would be too depressing to say, “Well, it was a curse before you stepped into my life, love.”

Steve blushed but still rolled his eyes, “You’ve got a silver tongue and sinful loins, Ed Merry.”

“Only for you.” He smirked, as Steve blanched. 

“Isn't it a part of dueling to concentrate? Stop distracting me!” He scolded and shook out his arm, making sure nothing was stiff. Not that Eddie would mind if something was stiff. “Ed!” 

“I didn’t say anything!” 

“You’re looking at me like a starving man looks at a slab of meat.” He put his hands on his hips, and his gun clattered against the leather holster at his belt loop. 

“Well, I am a bit peckish.” Steve’s eyes narrowed, “Alright, alright, I yield.” He put his hands up, “I’ll count you down.” 

They practiced for about four hours, not including the length of time taken flirting, their break for food, and Oliver showing Eddie a drawing he made of the bandit and the sheriff. Eddie did not cry over the drawing. He didn’t! At the end of it, Steve, out of twenty bottles, shot twelve.  

In the length of four hours, he shot twelve bottles. 

Eddie kept his mind and mood up, replaying happy memories in his head, even as he felt nauseous. Steve was… 

Steve wasn’t good at shooting. He was good at hand-to-hand combat, and Eddie assumed his strength with a knife, but as far as duels went, he wasn’t good. Nowhere near as good as Eddie, and worse than John. It wouldn’t be enough, but Eddie had a plan. He wasn’t sure if it could count towards the curse, but he figured being Steve’s second in the duel could be considered a loophole. He’d be laying out his life on the line in place of Steve, and all that was left was to ensure Steve would be unfit to duel. That would come the day of the duel. Until then, they ate dinner. Victoria made stew with bread, but Steve stopped Eddie before they went inside to join the others. 

“You could die tomorrow,” Eddie pointed out, feeling sick at the thought, “Don’t you want to spend dinnertime with your family?” Selfishly, he was glad Steve stopped him from entering the house. He wanted Steve all to himself. He wanted to spend the night worshiping the man, ignoring the reaper knocking at their door. He could hold Steve for months on end, and it wouldn’t be enough. But if he could just have Steve to only himself for tonight, he would die the next day a happy man. 

“We’ll eat here but go to my house afterwards, okay?” Steve smiled bashfully, and Eddie felt his heart flutter in his chest. Were his silent prayers being answered?

“Your house?” He egged on, hoping for clarification that was quickly provided. 

“I could die tomorrow,” Steve repeated Eddie’s earlier sentiment, “If that happens, I want to have died with having you fuck me properly. Spit or oil, top or bottom, for hours or seconds, I don’t care, as long as I get to have you in my bed.” Eddie felt heat rise to his cheeks and smiled. 

“And you say I’m the one with the silver tongue, love.” He took a step closer, eyeing Steve’s lips. Steve smiled and didn’t move away, accepting the silent challenge. 

“Silver tongue–a skillful tongue.” He leaned in closer, speaking directly against Eddie’s lips, “Have I told you how much I miss the feeling of it inside of me? How much I miss tasting the ambrosia of your spit?” Eddie felt something stir in his gut. It was taking everything in him not to tear Steve’s clothes off right then in there. Instead, pausing to smirk, he opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue. Steve, huffing in disbelief, leaned forward and licked from the tip of Eddie’s stretched tongue into the bandit’s mouth. Eddie brought his tongue inside as Steve licked at the roof of his mouth. He reached up to grip the man’s hair and throat, wrestling for dominance. The kiss was something filthy. Spit poured down their chins in steady streams, as Eddie swallowed Steve whole. There were wet smacks and soft groans, as Eddie pulled at Steve’s hair. It was sinful, and Eddie had never felt so loved. 

“Ahem…” They leapt apart when someone cleared their throat. Eddie wiped at the spit on his chin, while Steve merely licked his lips. Fuck, how were they supposed to survive dinner like this? The tension was so thick it was practically choking him. 

Eddie looked over at their intruder to find Victoria standing there with her arms crossed. “I am wanting to stab my eye with a hot knife,” she said with a grimace. 

“Don’t be jealous, Vickie,” Steve teased, and Victoria rolled her eyes. 

“If Wren did not care about you happy, I would stab you before and save myself the torture of that kiss. Come, it is time for food.” She held the door open with an expectantly raised brow. She hit Eddie’s arm on his way in, “Do not fuck it up.” 

“Has anyone told you that you might have anger issues?” She stared blankly in response, “Got it.” He took his seat at the table next to Steve. Eric was on his other side, now with rouge on their cheeks. Eddie smiled at the kid, and they frowned. 

“We saw you kissing through the window,” they claimed, “You’re really gross.” 

“Thanks, we try our best,” Steve offered up sarcastically while Eddie muttered, “Urchin…” beneath his breath. 

“Hey!” Mrs. Stanton smacked Eddie’s hand from across the table when he tried to dig in, “Elders eat first.” Eddie had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing. Victoria seemed to smirk as well, as Mrs. Stanton took a bite of her stew. The rest quickly followed; Eddie was smiling through most of the meal, and he had one hand on Steve’s thigh, while Steve rested his foot atop of Eddie’s. They stole glances, but Eddie let the conversation focus on Steve’s family. Wren even came out of the bedroom to steal a few words, and Lucas forced himself out of bed to do the same. Victoria glared so hard that Eddie was shocked they stood alive, but she only did it out of love. 

Or he was right about her anger issues, but who could say for sure?

They splurged on some jam and honey with bread for desert, eating small bites with soft smiles. Oliver kept asking for seconds, sucking on his fingers for a bit more sweetness when he was refused. 

“Shall we leave now?” Steve asked when the moon was about to hit its peak. 

“Aren’t you worried the hunters may try and stop you?” Wren asked, grabbing Steve’s hand. 

The man shook his head, “They’d be dumber than I thought if they believed I would ever run away without you. Besides, it’s not that far of a walk. We can go by foot.” Steve smiled over at Eddie, who quickly nodded. A horse ride would be too quick. This tension, though palpable and hellish, was a good feeling to have. The deep feeling in his gut that craved Steve’s flesh. 

They said their goodbyes and left for Steve’s house. The walk was about a mile, and they talked about whatever came to their minds. Eddie held Steve’s hand, thumb tapping in random rhythms. 

“Do you think you’ll keep living in Fool’s Gold after we win?” Eddie asked.

“Probably not,” Steve answered, “but I’d want to stay until the kids are older. Moving is stressful for the young ones.” He nodded to himself, “I suppose I’d want to go somewhere with a beach, or maybe the mountains. Somewhere with fresh air and heat not as harsh as it is here. I wanted to go to the mountains but got caught in Fool’s Gold.” 

The mountains. Eddie didn’t go to many mountains, not in America at least. He’d seen the Himalayas. Well, he climbed Mt. Everest in the 1950s—apparently one of the first to do so. He also explored a bit of the Smokies before it became a tourist trap. Otherwise, he wasn’t a big fan of heights. It wasn’t like a fall could kill him, obviously, but he always heard stories of frozen bodies stuck in glaciers and people going missing then decided he’d rather not be stuck in an ice cube or a canyon for the rest of eternity. 

“The mountains are nice.” Eddie knew he and Steve wouldn’t have these next couple of centuries together if all went to plan, but he found no fault in fantasizing. A small cabin for the two of them and a larger one for the rest of the family. They’d be secluded but available to visit, living on the same plot of land. They’d have horses, cattle, goats, and sheep—the kind of animals that thrived in such landscapes. Perhaps, they’d have chickens too. A dog or two, and a couple of cats to chase all the mice. 

Yes, it would be a lovely life. A perfect life. 

A life they couldn’t have, but it’s not a crime to dream from one’s death bed. Rather, it’s the soul’s last form of defiance before being silenced forever.

“Would you like something to drink?” Steve asked when they entered his house, as if Eddie was a first time guest. Then again, there was something bright and young in the air. The knowledge of what was to come. Tomorrow was going to be one of their death days, and tonight, the tension of lust and love filled the air like the cries of a lone wolf using its last breath to beg for its pack. Eddie was howling at the gods and crying for Steve.

“Darling, if you don’t take me to your bed right now, being thirsty will be the least of both of our worries.” Eddie eyed Steve from his eyes to his boots, delaying his gaze when it landed on the man’s groin. “You wanted a bed, darling.” 

He laughed when his hand was quickly grasped in Steve’s, as they raced upstairs like a couple of schoolboys. Likely by habit, Steve shushed Eddie, who laughed even louder. “No one is out here but us and the stars, my love!”

“The stars have the heavens to look at!” Steve groaned and shoved open his bedroom door. As soon as it shut, he grabbed Eddie’s biceps and smiled, “Well, the stars can have their heaven, as long as I have you all to myself.” Eddie grabbed Steve’s waist.

“You’re trembling, love,” he pointed out, voice soft, as he held Steve’s gaze.

“I’m trying to be brave,” the man whispered like a secret. His grip tightened on Eddie’s biceps, and in his eyes was the familiar look of fear. Of course, he was scared of the duel. While Eddie couldn’t offer up his plan to replace Steve, he couldn’t go on without offering at least a bit of comfort.

“Steven, you will be fine. I promise. I would never let you get hurt—“

“I’m not scared about tomorrow,” he confessed. His eyes began to tear up. Soon, tears dripped down his cheeks in slow streams, as if someone was letting water slowly drip from their fingertip. 

“What is it that has you so frightened, my love?” Eddie placed a hand on Steve’s cheek and used his thumb to wipe away the tears. Steve grabbed Eddie’s wrist to hold his hand still, pressing his cheek against it with shut eyes. He gasped then let go a proper, albeit shaky exhale. “Steven?”

“I love you,” Steve rushed out with the rest of his air. His hold loosened and relaxed, as his eyes opened. No longer wet from fear, those eyes shined just like his smile. “Ed, I love—!” 

Eddie didn’t let Steve finish, for when the man you love confesses the same, there is no patience. In that moment, all Eddie wanted was finally there. He was doomed in the morrow, but that night he had everything he wanted and needed in his hands. He kissed Steve like the cosmos kissed the Earth. In between press of lips, he muttered sweet nothings, “I love you… you’re all mine… my perfect siren.” All Steve seemed to be able to say was, “I love you,” over and over again. That was more than enough for Eddie. He didn’t need sonnets to be written about him to know just how full of love his lover’s heart was. 

“Please, Ed…” Steve tugged the man towards the bed, shoving him down with rough hands. Eddie landed with a bounce and a laugh. He kicked off his boots and ripped off his shirt while Steve did the same. They were smiling the entire time, staring at each other in the same type of manner. Loved filled eyes and joy filled smiles. Eddie let Steve fall in his lap with those muscular legs spread over either side of his hips. 

“Have you ever been fucked before?” Steve asked while pressing kisses to Eddie’s cheek. 

“Once or twice, my love.” Actually, he had ridden Stephen at least once or twice a week. It was usually because the siren’s hole would be too sore from all the fucking, though once in a while they’d do it with intent. Eddie loved Steve, and he wanted to show him in every way possible. “Do you want to fuck me?” He asked.

“I’m trying to decide if I’d rather die with your cum up my ass or having had cum up yours.” Eddie shut his eyes and pushed his hips up into Steve’s. 

“Would it be absolutely mad to ask for both?” Steve thrusted down at the thought, groaning when his hardness finally rubbed against Eddie’s. 

“I’ve never fucked a man before.”

“Oh, Steven,” Eddie cooed, “just because your cock will be up my ass does not mean you’ll be doing the fucking.” He reached down then and grabbed Steve’s dick. Steve choked on a shout and let his head fall down next to Eddie’s. “This is just as much mine as your hole is.” He paused and squeezed it much tighter than comfortable, and Steve yelped and bit into Eddie’s bare shoulder, “Isn’t that right, love?”

“It’s yours. Everything I have is all yours.” Steve’s voice echoed in the valley of Eddie’s collarbone, which he kissed gently. 

“Good.” Eddie let go then patted Steve’s ass with his unoccupied hand. “Now get on your hands and knees.” Steve scrambled to listen, face flushed a shade of crimson that stretched all the way down to his navel. With the darkness outside taking away their light, Eddie took a moment to light more candles, as they only took a second to light one before falling into the sheets. With more light in the room, he could properly see his siren—his love—his light—his purpose. 

“You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” Eddie climbed onto the bed and moved up behind Steve, “Do you have any oil, love?” 

“In the drawers.” Eddie stood and walked to where Steve pointed, “Not that drawer!” His bite lost its bark with a weak groan, as Eddie pulled out a long stick of wood, sanded down and polished. Though, the polish was degraded at one end. Eddie turned around, holding the object in one hand and a bottle of oil in his other. He smiled in disbelief. 

“Steven, you sinful little whore.” It was not bedroom talk but a high-pitched, teasing tone. 

“Would you believe me if I said it was Victoria’s?” He sat up on his knees and looked at Eddie with pleading eyes.

“I’ve seen how long Wren’s fingers are; Victoria doesn’t need this.” Eddie laughed, “Gods, the length of this thing! Where does it fit?!” When he was close enough, Steve grabbed the wood and stuffed it beneath the bed. 

“I never thought you’d be so envious over a piece of wood, Ed. You’re practically green.” Eddie rolled his eyes and opened the bottle of oil.

“Why would I be jealous of wood? It may have had your body, but I have your heart.” Steve rolled his eyes. “You love me, now strip.” 

“You know, I wanted to come home for privacy and romance, bandit.” Steve pulled off his trousers and let the linen cloth fall to the floor. 

“I’ve lit candles. Is that not romantic?” Eddie poured some oil on his finger tips and shoved in between Steve’s shoulderblades. When the man wouldn’t budge, he hooked his chin over Steve’s shoulder. “If we had all the time in the world, I would treat you like a king, my darling boy. For now, let the love I hold in my heart for you be the romance of the night.” Steve turned to look at Steve, smiling.

“There’s that silver tongue of yours.” They shared that tongue in a single kiss, where Eddie nipped at Steve’s lips until the other man groaned. This time, when Eddie pushed him, Steve went willingly back to his hands and knees with an arched back. Eddie could’ve died then and there and been happy. Then again, he really wanted to feel Steve one more time.

“I’ve only fucked you the other night, yet you’ve tightened up so much already. It’s like you were made to be fucked.” He warmed the oil, rubbing his fingers together, as they dripped with the substance, “How lucky am I to get to see you like this? As lucky as the Earth for being created beneath the yellow sun. As lucky as a rabbit’s foot. As lucky as the worm to wake up late. How serendipitous it is to have you here with me as you are.” 

“Serendipitous?” Steve groaned, as Eddie pushed a finger inside him, “What is— fuck —what is that?”

“It is the fact that after everything that has happened in my life, I’ve had the unexpected fortune of having you in my arms. It means I’m the luckiest bastard on Earth.” He punctuated his statement by bending his finger at the knuckle, searching inside of Steve until he found that delicious bundle of nerves to make the man go mad. An arrow striking its target; it was second nature at this point. His cock twitched in time with Steve’s resulting moans. 

“Your siren song is a blessing and a curse, my love.” Eddie used his other hand to squeeze his cock through his trousers for some relief, as he added another finger. “Your moans are so sinful, but I don’t care for Heaven. I only care for you.” He kissed down Steve’s spine, sucking bruises against bone. “Don’t quiet your song now, love. Keep singing for me.” A third digit. Steve groaned against his pillow, which he had grasped in his arms. 

“Ed, please. I’m ready.” Steve rolled his hips to prove his point.

“Okay, darling, just wait another moment.” Eddie used more oil to spread across his member, and he lined up with Steve’s entrance quickly. 

“Fuck…” twin curses spilled from their lips like harmonizing melodies. Eddie pressed to the hilt, and despite having just fucked Steve, it felt like heaven. It felt like home; he damn near cried. Jaw open, and fingers squeezing bruises in Steve’s hips, Eddie kept himself still. He let his siren tell him when to move by the sudden, impatient roll of his hips. “Come on,” Steve urged. Eddie fucked him like a whore. He fucked him like he always did the love of his life. Passionately and on the edge of desperation. Being immortal meant being well aware of the temporary nature of… everything. People die. The sun sets, and days end. The only thing to ever last forever is love, but that didn’t mean love was something to be taken for granted. Love was something to be felt with every fiber of your being—to be felt in your mind, heart, and soul. Love, for Eddie, was felt in his heart the most. Perhaps it was because, with love, he had pain. So much awful pain. Grief and loss. Not just Steve but all of his friends and family. Even Aphrodite left him for years on end before finding him in her next life, but that wasn’t a guarantee but luck. 

He fucked Steve with an unending desperation because he had to. He had to focus on this feeling and keep it for himself. He had to chase a release not for a good fuck but just to know he had deepened their connection that much more. Their love, in Eddie’s eyes, could be so bright in the cosmos that even the sun couldn’t outshine it. Their love would last forever, and Eddie was hellbent on making it the brightest light in the universe. It was how it felt for Eddie, so why shouldn’t it be the same for the gods and the heavens above. He wanted stories to be written about their love. He wanted a legacy–not in piracy or being a bandit, but for the love he had for Steve. 

“Ed, darling, please…” Steve arched his back, and Eddie wished for the man to call him darling from now until the Earth turned to dust. Instead, he gave in to the man’s pleas to grab Steve’s cock. He smirked, then, an idea popping into his sadistic mind. 

“Steven, you wish to fuck me yet have a cock like this?” He squeezed the thing tightly–meanly, “What is this going to touch? Small cock like this, I’ll have to yank my cock red just to come.” He smiled and leaned forward, pressing his chest to Steve’s back, “Is this why you love being fucked so much, Steven? This thing is as small as a clit; your hole must be a cunt.” Steve let out a shocked moan, and Eddie laughed, as he felt the muscles wrapped around his cock squeeze tighter. “Oh, is it like that? Is that what this is? Is it your cunt? Finally able to fuck something, yet you’re getting off over me calling your hole a dripping cunt. Is that it? You want to be my pretty girl, love? Want to be my little angel?” 

“Ed!” Steve groaned, and Eddie pressed his hips flushed against Steve’s ass to fill him up.

“Let’s see if this cunt can be bred?” It was all that had to be said for Steve to release into Eddie’s hand. The seed dripped to form a small pool in his palm, and Eddie leaned up to admire the pearlescent shade. He dipped his tongue in and savored the taste, “Tastes like a cunt’s slick to me.” 

Eddie had tasted cunt before, and Steve would always be sweeter. “What?” The man, still drunk on lust, slurred from beneath Eddie. Eddie pulled out, making Steve groan and fall to the side. With dark eyes and swollen lips, Steve stared up as Eddie took another lick from his palm. “What are you doing?” 

“I told you.” Eddie offered his hand, “It tastes like a cunt.” He forced his hand forward and beneath Steve’s chin, “Go on, darling. Try it.” He wasn’t about to argue, but Steve showed no conflict in his gaze, as he grabbed Eddie’s wrist and took a tentative lick. He grimaced. 

“It tastes like semen.” 

“It tastes like heaven.” Eddie took a broad lick up his palm then smeared the rest on Steve’s belly. The sheriff’s shouts of protests were quickly interrupted, as Eddie darted down to lick the skin clean from where he’d just tarnished. Sweet and salty. “Tastes like you.” 

“Are you implying that I am heaven?” 

“No,” Eddie shook his head and sat up on his heels, grabbing the oil, “I’d take you over heaven any day, my love.” Steve bashfully looked away, mouth working around a response that was forgotten like dust in the wind. Eddie smiled at the man’s slacked jaw expression, as he raised himself up to reach behind his cock and balls. His fingers were slick with oil, and he inhaled when he touched his own hole. “Cat got your tongue, Steven?” 

“You’re…” 

“I said I would let you fuck me, love. I wasn’t lying.” He smiled and licked his canine, leaning back to rest on one hand while pushing a finger inside himself with the other. “Fuck, it’s been a while.” It truly had been a while. It was hard enough as it was finding men who looked like Steve to have some relief for his cock; he hadn’t been fucked in decades. At most, he’d use one or two fingers on especially desperate nights when his prostate begged for stimulation. Otherwise, his fist or a paid whore did fine. 

“My God, Ed, you…” Steve swallowed, and Eddie stuck another finger in. He began scissoring them apart right away. He didn’t care much for getting off a second time; he merely wanted to fulfill Steve’s wishes. “Does it feel good?” 

“It will feel a lot better with your cock, darling.” 

“I thought this was my clit.” 

“When I’m fucking your cunt, it’s a clit. When I’m about to sit on it, it’s a cock.” Steve giggled in an almost crazed way, “What?” 

“You make it sound like I’m a shapeshifter.” 

Eddie chuckled and shook his head, adding a third finger. The angle was odd, but he was thankful his powers prevented any aching joints. A hundred years ago, his wrist would be aching by now. “Not a shapeshifter, darling, just a siren.” He hissed, as the tip of his finger grazed his prostate. It was a lot more sensitive than he was expecting. Then again, what should he have been expecting after ignoring the spot for so many years. 

“I see no oceans around us, sailor.” 

“Your spell has stolen me from the sea, maiden.” He groaned suddenly, pressing against his prostate again. “Fuck…” 

“Is it…” Steve licked his lips, “Can I try?” Eddie looked down at the man. Steve’s cock was slowly rising back to the occasion. Eddie was already hard. “Please?” 

“As you wish, love.” Eddie removed his hand and handed Steve the oil, “Have you done this to anyone but yourself?” Steve shook his head, “I trust you; you’ll be perfect.” There was nothing Steve could ever do that wasn’t perfection. This was no different, even as his fingers were shy. Eddie moved to his hands and knees to make it easier, and Steve was pressing against his rim. “It doesn’t have teeth, darling. It won’t bite.” Steve muttered something rude beneath his breath but continued on his mission until he was down to the first knuckle on one finger. Eddie let his head fall forward. He’d forgotten how nice Steve’s fingers felt. A part of him wondered just how much convincing it would take for the man to add his tongue, but Steve was too busy adding another finger. Eddie had already stretched himself enough that not much scissoring was needed, and he could tell Steve’s goal wasn’t to stretch him more but to find–

“Great Neptune!” Yes, that. Eddie cursed to the pillow beneath him and grabbed it tightly, “Right there, Steven. Fuck!” 

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” It sounded like Steve hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but it was still music to Eddie’s ears. “You’re so warm and… and tight.” Eddie heard a groan and looked back to see Steve gripping the base of his cock, “Ed, I’m not sure how long I can last.” 

“It’s alright, darling. I’ll be right there with you…” To be honest, Eddie was struggling to speak. Steve was far from experienced but his curious fingers kept prodding at Eddie’s prostate like an animal curiously sniffing for food. He kept thrusting then rubbing, moving his fingers in little circles. Eddie imagined Steve was copying what he would do to himself, and it was no wonder the man required a piece of polished wood to properly get off. Those fingers, though delightful, weren’t enough. Eddie made it clear by ordering a moment later, “Either fuck me or get on your back so that I may ride you.” 

Eddie heard more than saw Steve rush to lie down, and he laughed while sitting up. “What?” Steve asked, cock hard and as red as his face. 

“So eager to let me do all the work, huh?” He straddled Steve’s legs quickly, grabbing the man’s cock to coat with the rest of the oil. 

“Well, you… fuck!” Steve huffed into the open air, biting his lip so hard that he left behind an indentation, “You said you’d ride me. That… that it may be my cock in your h-hole, but you–”

“I control it all. That’s right. I’d almost forgotten.” Eddie chuckled and shook his head fondly before lining himself up, “Take a breath, love.” Steve did just that, letting it all out in one rushed gasp, as Eddie sat down. He only managed to go halfway before sitting up, letting gravity do much of the work. Steve’s jaw was open wide, while Eddie clenched his. He savored the feeling. The slight burn and deep ache within him. He felt so full both physically and emotionally. Full of Steve and Steve’s love. “I told you it’s a cock.” 

Steve didn’t respond, muttering random expletives in between soft moans. “Ed, you feel…” 

“What? What is it I feel like, Steven?” He rolled his hips, and Steve gasped and gripped his hands. “No, no…” Eddie grabbed the man’s wrists to pin them on either side of his head. He rolled his hips some more, smiling, “I’m in charge, remember?” Steve whimpered and nodded, “Now,” he punctuated his statement with a small bounce, “what is it I feel like?” 

“Heaven…” Steve moaned, thrusting up dutifully. Eddie smiled and began to fuck himself on Steve’s cock in further. It took a moment to remember the rhythm, but it soon became muscle memory. All those times bouncing on Stephen’s cock. This version of his siren felt bigger, or maybe his healing abilities added to the stretch. Either way, he almost regretted not riding the man sooner. Not feeling this sooner. This fullness. This connection. Each thrust barely grazed his prostate, but it was plenty for him. They didn’t have time to practice for Steve to learn Eddie’s body as Eddie knew Steve’s, but it was enough. It was more than enough; it was everything. 

“Ed, please… I…” Steve cut himself off like he’d been strangled, and he clenched both fists. Eddie saw the man’s abdomen clench and swore he could feel the heartbeat of the man’s throbbing cock within him. He swiveled his hips faster then collected both of Steve’s hands in one of his. He used his other to stroke his cock. “Ed!” 

“Come for me, darling. Go on, let me feel it.” 

“Ed!” Steve shouted. A moment later, he was released. It wasn’t as explosive or as much seed as earlier, but Eddie still felt the throbbing and the sudden, hot release inside him. He let himself slow down and sit still, using his hand and the sight of Steve’s gloriously tired, lustful gaze to finish him off. He came on Steve’s stomach, adding to the mess of leftover cum and spit already there. 

“Gods…” he panted, letting himself slouch forward. Steve was breathless. 

“God…” he repeated, using the singular term he was raised with, “I love you.” 

“Are you talking to God or me?” Eddie asked with a smirk, moving to get off of Steve. He hissed at the seed dripping out of his hole, and Steve whined at the loss of warmth around his spent cock. 

“Maybe I consider you my god?” Steve responded, as Eddie bent down to grab one of their abandoned shirts. 

“Isn’t a man supposed to stop sinning when faced with mortality?” Eddie wiped himself down then moved to wipe Steve. He gazed into the man’s dark eyes, illuminated with the orange hue of their lit candles. 

“We’ve just done sodomy twice, Ed. If hell is real and if I die tomorrow, I’ll save you a seat.” The bandit snickered and smacked Steve’s arm. He then grabbed a blanket to toss over the two of them. “I’d worship you like a god. On my knees, at least.” 

“Neptune,” Eddie shook his head, “you love me, and I’ve turned you into a monster.” 

“You love me and have released me from the hell I was living in.” Steve moved to lay on Eddie’s chest, as the man’s smile dropped into a curious frown, “I’ve spent the last decade of my life running from who I am, Ed. In a single month, you’ve not only saved me from assassins and bandits but from myself. Without you, I…” he shook his head, “You saved my life, Ed. It’s for that reason and more as to why I love you so.” 

Eddie’s gaze softened, and he placed his palm against Steve’s cheek to draw the man in for a kiss, “If I were to name all the reasons I love you, then we’d never sleep again.” 

Steve glanced out the window at the rising moon, “We have nowhere to be until dawn.” He smiled cheekily, and Eddie chuckled. 

“I love you for your eyes that shine gold in the sun. I love you for your beauty marks and moles, which remind me of constellations. I love you for your lips, which are sweet like wine. I love you for…” 

Eddie listed things until Steve fell asleep, gently snoring against Eddie’s chest. Eddie could sleep, but he planned to die in the morning. So, instead of letting fictional dreams chase the moon and make way for the sun, he let himself watch the real, living dream before him. Having Steve in his arms was better than any rest he could’ve achieved. 

Maybe, just maybe, if he’d known his plan wouldn’t work and he’d fail a second time, Eddie would’ve let himself fantasize and dream instead of spending all night filling himself with false hope. 

Chapter Text

"Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies." - Andy Dufresne (The Shawshank Redemption)

March 27th, 1786

Eddie shut his eyes when Steve began to stir. Before anyone dares to say otherwise, no, Eddie didn’t spend all night watching Steve. He also got out of bed to draw the man and made an entry or two in his journal. Specifically, he wrote a letter to the man still asleep in bed. Just one to make Steve understand, so he wouldn’t hate Eddie for breaking their promise and dying just to leave Steve alive. 

“Ed.” Steve shook Eddie’s shoulder, “Ed, wake up. The sun is already up. We’ve got about four hours until noon.” 

The bandit slowly opened his eyes and smiled up at Steve, “You’re the greatest view in the morning. The sun rising doesn’t even measure up.” He leaned up to kiss the man, and Steve melted for a moment before straightening up once more. Eddie groaned a complaint, and the other man slapped his shoulder. 

“No time for pleasantries, Ed. We need to break our fast and prepare for the duel. Victoria and Lucas’s mom will meet us at the sheriff’s office. Come on.” Eddie watched Steve leap out of bed, wondering what happened to him in this lifetime to make him a morning person. Or maybe, he was simply too anxious to sit still. Watching him struggling buttoning his shirt, Eddie knew the latter was true. 

“Come here.” Eddie held out his hand to wave Steve forward. The man walked over slowly, and Eddie instantly began to button up the sheriff’s shirt with his steady hands. “You have nothing to tremble about, darling. I won’t let you die today.” 

“You can’t promise that.” 

Eddie finished the last button and tugged Steve forward by the collar to press a long kiss against his lips. He tasted like the morning. “I love you. I could promise the moon and stars and find a way to bring them to you. Whatever it takes; I’ll always bring to you whatever you desire.” 

Steve’s eyes softened, and he leaned forward with an odd expression, “Why couldn’t we have met sooner?” 

“Don’t ask why the past is how it is. Be grateful for the time we have now. For the time we will have. For the love we have shared, and how beautiful it has been.” They kissed once more before Eddie began to dress himself, getting his trousers on before finding his shirt stained with semen. “Have you got a shirt?” 

The sheriff nodded before digging into his dresser. He brought out a white shirt just to put it back. He pulled out brown next, shook his head, then dug around before finding a darker color. It was a deep red. “This is you.” He nodded and handed the piece over. Eddie looked down at the shirt, and his heart melted. “What?” It was odd how Steve complained about them not knowing each other for long, but this showed Eddie the truth. Steve knew him as the moon knew the stars. It was just a shirt, but for Eddie, it was as perfect as a wedding ring.

“Thank you,” Eddie responded simply before putting the shirt on. It matched his black trousers and hat. “I’ll make us breakfast.”

Breakfast ended up being some bread and some dried meat leftover in the pantry. He also found, deep in the pantry, stacks of jams. It made him snort; gold, treasures, and riches beyond belief, and they took twelve jars of jam from Eddie’s hideout. He grabbed a strawberry jar before getting them some water from the spout outside. It was a hot day already. Eddie had to remove his hat and wipe his brow when he came back inside with a pail of water. “It’s hot,” he commented, and Steve looked over just to giggle. 

“Your hair gets less curly when it’s hot,” he observed, wiping some bread crumbs from his beard, “You look like a wet dog.” Eddie blanched.  

“Its the sweat laying it down,” he insisted dryly, “If it were humid, it’d frizz up. I also haven’t had the time to properly care for it, so it’s messier than usual. It used to be way longer, you know.” He sat back at the table, offering water to Steve, who drank it with a nod of thanks. 

“I would’ve liked to see that. I bet it was real pretty.” Eddie felt his cheeks heat up beside the desert heat outside. “You’re blushing.” 

“I’m sunburnt,” he cut in, “and you’re the pretty one.” Steve smiled and nudged his leg beneath the table. Eddie smirked and took a bite of his bread. It was a bit stale, but it tasted as good as anything else. Maybe it was the jam, or maybe it was the sweetness of the man next to him.  

After eating, they went to the sheriff’s office as planned. Victoria and Mrs. Stanton were sitting outside. “Wren is too pregnant, and I wasn’t going to let my children watch this. Lucas is still hurt, and Eric is too young,” the older woman of the two explained. Her brows seemed to be permanently furrowed. 

“First time I ever saw someone killed, I was a single decade old.” Mrs. Stanton glared at Eddie, while Steve frowned curiously, “I am not implying Eric should be here; it was simply a comment.” He raised his hands. 

“Keep your comments to yourself. Now, come on, let’s discuss.” She tilted her head and trailed after Victoria inside. The french woman glanced over her shoulder, sending a small smile Eddie’s way. 

There was nothing to discuss, really, but Steve did grab Eddie’s arm before he could walk inside. “You saw someone die at ten?” His tone was full of remorse and pain, as if it was his fault. 

“Remember when I said I killed the man who killed my mother and sister?” Steve’s eyes widened, already connecting the dots. He was too smart not to, “That man I killed was my father. My sister was a baby, and my mother was…” he swallowed, “She was beautiful.” 

“Oh, Ed…” his love exhaled with a shake of his head. 

“Now is no time for pleasantries, Steven,” Eddie repeated Steve’s earlier statement, and the sheriff frowned. Moved his hand from Eddie’s arm to grasp his palm. 

“You didn’t deserve that. No kid deserves that.” 

“I’m a murderer, remember?” Eddie hated the fact that he let himself get down so quickly, but talking about Gwen and his mother always did that. It always sent him in a headspace of stormy seas and blood in the water. 

“You have blood on your hands, but so do I. Does that make me any more deserving of something like that? Does it make me any less good, as you would say it?” 

“I have enough blood to fill an ocean on my hands, darling.” Steve’s hands would always be as clean as a cloudless sky, in Eddie’s eyes. 

“And I would spend a thousand years cleaning them for you if it meant you could realize how good you are.” In a single moment, the pain and guilt in Eddie’s heart disappeared. “Now, come on. We need to prepare.” 

Preparations weren’t all that exciting, for all they did was give Steve his holster and clean his face (Mrs. Stanton insisted). Eddie handed him his hat “for good luck”. Steve took it with a smile before taking his own. 

“I’ll only take your hat if you wear mine,” Steve stated, handing Eddie his own leather cover, “The sight of a duel is bad enough without people dealing with that flat hair of yours.” He pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek to subdue his smile. 

“And here I thought you were being sentimental.” Eddie put the hat on with a smirk. Steve gently punched his arm, which Eddie responded to with a kiss, not caring whether Mrs. Stanton would approve. Though, when he looked over, the woman looked unimpressed.

“Dating a bandit, Steven?” She raised a brow. 

“He is also a man,” Victoria pointed out, as she cleaned Steve’s gun. The woman was hard to read but gave off a restless energy when she was nervous. After all, she had cleaned Steve’s gun three times already. It reminded Eddie a lot of Wren. 

“Please, as if I didn’t find out they were dating the second they darkened my stoop. I don’t care if he’s the damn president. Steven can do better!” The woman exclaimed with a stern frown. Steve snorted while Eddie clutched his stomach with laughter. 

When Victoria finally deemed Steve’s gun clean enough, they headed to the center of town. “Hey,” Eddie grabbed Steve’s hand before he could walk out into the clearing, where everyone was waiting. Word traveled fast in a small town, and something as exciting as a duel brought even the most introverted out to watch. “I’m your second, okay?”

“Ed—“

“It’s the rule of dueling, darling. Everyone needs a second. I’m just letting you know, okay?” 

Steve huffed but nodded, “As long as you don’t do anything stupid.” His tone was that of a warning, as if he could do anything lasting to hurt Eddie. Well, anything but die. 

“Me? Never.” Steve blanched, “Oh, just shut up and kiss me before anyone sees us.” He grabbed the back of his lover’s head, tangling his fingers in the nape of his hair, and brought him in close. 

There was something unspoken between them in that kiss. Eddie knew, no matter what, it would be the last kiss of this lifetime. Steve believed, come the worst case scenario, this would be their last kiss forever. It was felt in the air and their touch. Steve kissed nervously, hoping for the best but assuming the worst. Eddie kissed passionately, knowing this would be their last kiss in at least a century no matter the outcome. He took the time to worship the taste of Steve and the shape of his lips. He memorized the feeling long ago; thus, each time he kissed the man, it was like coming home. The familiarity – the comfort of it all. He touched Steve’s cheek, feeling the man’s beard and the soft skin beneath it. He licked inside, appreciating the softness of Steve’s breath against his face, as the man exhaled through his nose just to inhale and deepen the kiss. Eddie worshipped the taste. The smell. The sound of breathing between them. Soft. Kind. Good. Much better than Eddie deserved. 

When they finally parted, Steve exhaled sharply. “God…”

“I love you.” Eddie stroked Steve’s cheek with his thumb. He had his other hand gently pressing against Steve’s pulse. A reminder of what he was fighting for. What Steve deserved – a full, beautiful life. A life he wouldn’t waste like Eddie did. A life of exploring. Of art. Of music. Not crimes and stealing but something uniquely Steve – beautiful, curious, charitable, and always kind. 

Steve grabbed both of Eddie’s wrist with either hand. “I love you too.” 

“Five til noon!” A voice shouted from the square. The two men fully separated, and already Eddie missed Steve’s warmth. 

“Let’s go.” Eddie led Steve to the square, spotting John and the others instantly. The crowd seemed to blur in the background. “Okay, you have five minutes. Remember what I taught you?” 

“Quickness, aim low, and hope the bullet lands.” Steve swallowed, looking at John across the way. There was a doctor on standby, though calling the man a doctor would be a stretch. Any doctor back then was a stretch of the term. Eddie would sooner trust a dog to cure any ailments than one of those fools, but he digresses. Medicine was always a secret interest of his. 

“Two minutes!” The same voice from before shouted. It was the old innkeeper. Eddie cursed and glanced at the clock.

“Just remember one thing above everything else I taught you, okay? Can you do that for me?” 

“Ed, of course, but what is it?”

“That I love you.” Eddie grabbed Steve’s forearm, keeping him still. Steve frowned, tilting his head. 

“Ed, I love you too, but what are you—“

“You’re going to be okay.” The clock struck for noon. There were calls for the duel to begin, and John spoke up.

“Are we duelling or not?!” He shouted. 

They couldn’t kiss. Not in front of so many peering eyes, so Eddie trailed his hand downward to entangle their fingers. Steve frowned but took the hand in his, taking it as what it was disguised as. Just one last touch before the final showdown. Eddie smiled at Steve, who smiled back. To an outsider’s perspective, it was one man wishing the other good luck. To Steve, it was as perfect as a kiss. A simple handshake that spoke a thousand words. 

For Eddie, it was saving Steve’s life.

Steve attempted to let go to join John in the square, but Eddie kept his grip. “I’m sorry.” Steve had only enough time to furrow his brows before Eddie raised his other hand and grabbed Steve just below his elbow. Sharply, he twisted and pulled his hands in opposite directions at once. A sickening crack echoed into the air followed by Steve’s scream. John’s head snapped over, as Steve cradled his now broken arm, falling to the ground. “What the hell?” He asked brokenly, looking up at Eddie with wide eyes. Eyes that sang of betrayal and pain, physical and emotional, “Ed…” always quick to realize, “Ed, don’t do this!” 

“What the fuck was that?” The villain demanded, and Eddie bent down at Steve’s side.

“It was the only way, love. I’m sorry,” he whispered, and Steve looked up at him with tears in his eyes. He shook his head.

“No, no don’t. It’s my fight! My duel!” He cried. 

Eddie, with a heavy heart, stood. “Steven’s arm is broken. He cannot duel.” He swallowed and raised his chin high. His heart was heavy with guilt for hurting Steve, but it would be worth it. The limb would heal the second Eddie’s immortality transferred to him. He kept telling himself to not become too emotional before the fight. “As his second, I will go in his place,” he finished. 

There were gasps and mutters traveling through the crowd like crashes of waves. Eddie starred down his opponent. John’s eyes flashed with fear, but he schooled his expression into a lopsided smile . 

“Very well…” he rolled his shoulders, and Eddie glanced at his gun to check for bullets. He had a full barrel. Plenty for Steve to kill the rest of their foes once Eddie was down. No one else – well, no one innocent – would get hurt. 

“Ed…” Steve weakly groaned from the ground, “Ed, please, don’t do this!” He begged, voice thick with emotion and pain. Eddie felt tears in his eyes, as he ignored Steve’s pleads. When he looked back, he saw Victoria helping Steve to his feet. The woman had a deep look in her eyes. She knew just as well as Eddie that this was his one shot. 

“Are these changes accepted, then?” The innkeeper asked, glancing between the two men.

“Fine by me,” John answered, and up close, Eddie could see he was shaking. There was a tremor in his hand when he picked up his hat to wipe his brow. There was something in his eyes – a look Eddie knew well. It was a man who knew he was about to die. More than that, it was a cruel man facing death. This meant, with all the fear, there was anger. There was something spiteful, as if he knew something Eddie didn’t. “You won’t win this, Ed.” He should’ve known the statement was a true warning, not just a threat. He should’ve remembered that dying wasn’t the only way to lose. 

“Sure, I won’t,” Eddie agreed, fully expecting that to be the truth. He wasn’t walking away this time. 

There was a priest who offered a prayer for the two. Eddie blanched when the man tried to approach him; it was the same one from his attempted execution. The priest walked over to John instead, who accepted the prayer and signed the cross over his chest. Eddie snorted, as if the man could ever get into any form of heaven.  

They soon met in the middle. “You remember how to count, right John?” Eddie smirked mirthfully. 

“Fuck you,” the man spat in return, literally spitting at Eddie’s feet. Eddie smiled. 

“I’ll see you in hell.” It made John’s sneer deepen, as they turned away from each other. John had his gun pressed to his chest; Eddie kept his gun in his holster like usual. 

“Ten paces, then fire at will, men.” The innkeeper counted out loud, and it felt like he was in time with Eddie’s heartbeat. He counted along beneath his breath. 

One.

Eddie kept his eyes on Steve, who had a worried expression etched on his face.

Two.

Victoria smiled sadly.

Three.

Eddie wondered where Steve would bury him. If he’d find a beach to let Eddie be with the ocean.

Four.

He had made peace with the ocean by then. 

Five.

Or perhaps it would be by the lake where they fought. Maybe near Steve’s house?

Six.

Maybe he’d do what Eddie did and keep his corpse for days to mourn over. Only, there were no crabs to fight off.

Seven.

Only vultures, who flew above them like an omen. Steve would pick a spot to visit. Lay flowers.

Eight.

Steve was crying and muttering to himself. Maybe praying? Eddie wondered if he should be praying too. He hadn’t in a century.

Nine.

Eddie thinks he was supposed to die the same night his mother and sister did. He thinks all of this was fate's attempt as a joke. He was a walking corpse who was supposed to die ages ago but managed to escape death every time. No one was allowed to evade the reaper for that long. Eddie was meant to die cold among his family in that old house. His father was meant to strangle him or beat him to death. Maybe all the times he was shot or stabbed were meant to stick. Maybe he was always doomed to live far longer than he desired. Now, far older than he should be, he wanted nothing more than to die. To take his last breath. To die in the warm sun. 

To die in Steve’s arms just as Steve had died in his. 

Ten.

Eddie grabbed his gun and turned as quickly as lightning. A gunshot rang in the air, and on instinct, Eddie fired second. He hit John, who didn’t even have his now smoking gun pointed to Eddie and fell on impact. The man landed in the dirt, as blood poured from the hole in his stomach. “You never lose a duel, but you didn’t win,” the man smiled, spilling blood to his chin. Eddie frowned and looked down expecting to see blood of his own, but there was none. 

A gasp broke the lingering silence in the air, making Eddie turn to follow the source of the noise. His heartbeat echoed in his ears, as his stomach dropped. Victoria was at Steve’s side. Steve, whose broken arm hung loosely at his side, had his hand pressed against his stomach. Blood seeped through the cracks in his fingers. “Ed?” the man muttered before falling to the ground.

The first time Eddie ever got stabbed, he was still a child. It was while his old captain was teaching him to swordfight. A wave hit the boat wrong, and the old man’s sword cut into his gut accidentally. Eddie screamed like a child, unable to cry due to his bottled tears but still screaming all the same. The old captain had comforted him, while Christina stitched and wrapped the wound. He almost got an infection and was bedridden for days. The next time he was stabbed, it didn’t hurt so much. He stitched it up himself and went right back to fighting the next day. 

It made him wonder why, as Steve began to bleed on the ground, did it hurt just as much as the first time? Why did his heart twist the same way it did so long ago? Why did it hurt so much? Why did it hurt more than a bullet wound ever could? 

“Steve… Steven?” Eddie slid to his knees, taking the man from Victoria and apologizing when it made Steve yelp, as his broken arm pressed against Eddie’s knee, “You’re okay. You’re alright. You’re alright, it’s not bad” He wasn’t alright. Steve was dying. The wound was bleeding too much.

“Ed,” Victoria spoke gently, voice heavy. Eddie failed, she knew it just as much as he did.

“He’s fine!” Eddie snapped in return, “He’s fine. He just needs some help…” He took a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it against Steve’s wound. “Hold it!” He barked at Victoria, who was fully crying now. Through tears, she did as she was told, and her cries mixed like harmonies with Steve’s painful groans. Eddie, meanwhile, reached for his gun with a trembling hand. “You’ll be okay, Steven. You’ll be okay…”

He pressed the barrel against his head, shut his eyes, ignored shouts from those around him, and pulled the trigger. The shot being so close to his ear made the body part ring and bleed. He felt the warm crimson drip down his neck, but he stayed alive. He was alive. 

Eddie brought the gun back down, and the now flattened bullet fell to the ground. “No…” he shook his head. “No, it… no!” He returned both hands to hold onto Steve, “No, please! Please, you can’t! You can’t leave me again!” He hiccuped. The warm blood stained his palms, adding to the ocean’s worth already staining his palms. The substance was redder than he remembered. Brighter, though that could be because of the sun. How dare it shine so brightly, as Steve grew dim? “You’re going to be okay, darling. You’re going to be okay. I promise. Just… just don’t leave me. Don’t leave me, please.”

“Ed…” Steve reached up with his good arm and cupped Eddie’s face, “you’re so beautiful.” 

“Oh, my love.” Eddie’s voice broke, and his tears finally fell. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. Please… please don’t go.”  

As Steve paled more and more, something flickered in his expression. His eyes, for a moment, seemed to shine pink. His expression twisted up in confusion just to be replaced with something so broken and hurt. Before Eddie could attempt to comfort the man, he began to cry harder than before, “Edmund?” Eddie’s head snapped up, eyes wide and jaw open, “Edmund, no…” Steve shook his head, “Oh, gods, what have you done.”

“What did you call me?” Eddie asked. Aphrodite said… she said if the curse was broken, Steve would remember. The curse wasn’t broken, why was he… why would he be calling Eddie by his first name? Why would he be speaking like the way he did in the past?

“You promised. You promised me you would let me die first.” Eddie felt his heart collapse. If he were mortal, he would die in an instant from the pain alone.

“Stephen?” He finally asked, if only for confirmation. Steve’s breath trembled. 

“What are you doing? Why would you do this? Edmund, you…” 

“No….” Eddie’s voice cracked, and he shook his head, “No, no, you have to understand. My love, I…”

“What have you done? I remember… oh gods, I remember!” He gasped, face twisting up in pain as a result, “Oh my God, I remember.” Eddie sobbed, shaking his head. “You promised…”

“I’m so sorry, my love. I’m so sorry. I never meant for this to happen.” Something warm splashed against his face. Steve coughed up blood. The handkerchief was soaked by now. Gods, why did it have to be such a slow death? “I’m so sorry, my love. I'm so sorry!” He clutched onto Steve harder, as if he could convince the man’s soul to stay. As if he could cure the man by touch alone. 

“I love you, Edmund. I love you. Please let me go.” Eddie pressed a kiss to Steve’s hand, “Please, please… just let me go. Don’t do this.” If he could, Eddie would let them both go. He would stay in the afterlife with Steve as long as it took.

“I’ll never let you go,” he promised instead, “I love you. You’re all I want. I can’t let you go.”

“You’re…” Steve breathed, and there was a familiar strain to his voice. His breath became wheezy and labored. This was it. This was the end. “Please… please don’t waste it. Don’t spend your life… live for me… I love you too much… don’t worry… I’m okay.” Tears flowed slower, as he grew too dehydrated. He turned his head, falling limp and staring at the dirt. “The sand is red. Why is it red? …”

Indeed, it was red. It was stained with blood. “Stephen?” Eddie asked, gently grabbing Steve’s shoulder, “Stephen?!” He tried again, turning Steve to face him once more, and all he got was one last, trembling exhale. “Stephen!” He screamed, gently tilting the man’s face to and fro, as if he was simply in a deep slumber. “No… no… don’t do this…” he lowered his head and cried into the man’s chest. Sobs ran through his body as violently as a sickness. He shook all over, chest, heart, lungs, stomach, and head hurting with the force of it. “No!” 

No… No… No.. No… No, “Please…” He was so close. 

Eddie lifted his head and let out a roar envied by even the most thunderous of storms. He shouted to the heavens, hoping they could feel his rage. He knew they could. Afterall, he was immortal; the gods always heard his pain. He was one of their own. They would hear his curses and spat insults. “Fuck you!” He shouted, screaming until his throat hurt then screaming again when it instantly healed, “I defile you! I hate you! Why would you take him again?!” 

“Son,” Eddie jumped to his feet as soon as a hand touched his shoulder, making Mrs. Stanton stumbled away, “Ed, please… Please, Steven wouldn’t want this.” The woman was crying too, tears streaking down her face. She had blood on her hand, and Eddie looked down at himself to see he was covered. His clothes were already dark, but his red shirt turned a deep brown from the crimson seeped into the material. 

“You don’t know him. You don’t know his soul as I do.” He looked down at the body of his love. Victoria was holding his hand, providing comfort to a corpse. She was staring at the distance, and Eddie followed her gaze. 

Mato and Benjamin and the others were heading for the stables. “Ed—“ Victoria cut herself off when Eddie took off in a sprint. He tore off Steve’s hat when it began to slip in the wind, and he had his gun at the ready. Four bullets. There were three bandits left, Mato, and Benjamin. Four bullets. 

He shot one of the bandits first, chasing another down to tackle him into the dirt. The man had a knife in his belt that he ripped out with a shout. He attacked Eddie first, but the bandit moved his hand to block the attempt. The blade went through his palm. The pain was nothing. Not compared to his heart splintering over and over again. It was like the aftershocks in an earthquake. Never ending waves of new pain matching his heartache. If anything, the knife in his hand was nothing more than a distraction. He ripped it out, stabbed the man through the eye, then ran. He shot another bandit who was running out on his horse. The horse leaped beyond the fence with the bandit being dragged limply at his side. 

“Come out, you cowards!” Eddie shouted. That’s when he heard a cry that he quickly followed, like a blood-sniffing hound following a trail. Indeed, there was a blood trail leading to behind the stable.

Mato was on the ground, clutching his injured leg. Whatever stitches he had or tie he created to stop the bleeding ripped, and blood was pouring from the old bullet wound. The man raised his hand, “Sorry! Apology! Please! Please, do not!” He cowered.

“Shut the fuck up.” Eddie shot Mato in the head, giving him a quick way out. The man fell, blood staining the Earth. He’d be buried as he would’ve been in his culture, but for now, Eddie spat on his corpse. 

He ran back out to see a horse running in the distance. He assumed it was the one the bandit stole—the one that got away. Then, with a squint, he saw the figure on top of the creature instead of a corpse limp at its side. Benjamin was getting away.

Eddie cursed and ran towards Lydia’s stall. She jumped in surprise when he stormed in. “Come on!” He pulled on her mane and jumped on her back, ignoring the saddle hanging just outside the gate. She shouted something fierce, jumping like mad. “He’s going to get away! He killed Steven!” He begged her to understand like she always seemed to in the past, but the gentle creature refused to move. “Please! Please, he’s getting away!” Eddie’s rage began to evaporate the second his voice cracked, “Please, don’t do this. Please, let me go!” Lydia shook her head, and Eddie collapsed forward. He grabbed onto her mane and cried into the horse’s neck. “I’ve lost him again! I’ve lost him again! He’s gone. He’s gone, and it’s all my fault!” He sobbed, staining her fur with blood and his tears.

Lydia trotted outside finally, only she didn’t head towards Benjamin but turned towards the square. The crowd had disappeared by now, likely running off when Eddie went on his rampage. Victoria, Mrs. Stanton, and Steve were the only three that remained. Eddie got off his horse to approach them, and he kneeled beside Steve’s body.

“I’m so sorry, honey.” Mrs. Stanton didn’t like Eddie, he knew, yet she hugged him carefully, pulling away when he didn’t reciprocate. “It isn’t your fault.” It was. 

“You did your best.” Victoria touched his shoulder, but she was still crying. She probably resented him. She probably hated him. They all did.

A vulture landed a few feet away. Eddie used his last bullet to kill the foul creature. No one could have Steve. No one could pick him apart or ruin his beauty. Not when Eddie already did. 

***

They had Steve’s funeral the next day. Corpses didn’t last long in the 1700s, especially in the desert heat. He had a wooden casket and was buried out by his house. The marking for his grave was wooden with his name etched into it. His birth year and death year were carved below it. Eddie stared at it with a frown, as he shoveled more dirt over the casket. He watered it with his tears and sweat. His hands grew bloody with splinters that he didn’t bother to pull out. They’d be expelled from him eventually.

“I’m sorry.” He couldn’t stop saying it. This was all his fault. If he hadn’t been so arrogant. If he had killed his crew the second they showed signs of betrayal. If he had never taken Steve or his family back to Fool’s Gold in the first place. Now there really was only one fool in town, and it was Eddie.

“Eat.” He didn’t even when Mrs. Stanton refused to leave his side until he took a bite. He had more time than her to be stubborn and wait. Besides, there was strawberry jam on every plate. Eddie couldn’t bring himself to even smell something as sweet as Steve. 

“You could help set up the, uh, baby room?” Victoria offered. “You will have Steven’s room.” It was an unspoken agreement that Eddie would stay and move into Steven’s house. Despite his heartbreak and urge to run away, he wasn’t going to leave. Steve would’ve wanted him to stay and take care of his family, even if it meant going to a house with walls that talked only of Steve. 

Wren couldn’t move beyond a bed in Mrs. Stanton’s house, so Victoria, Eddie, and Charlie commuted back and forth until she was ready to go. She gave birth under the moon peaking in through the window. Eddie, Mrs. Stanton, and Victoria were at her side. Victoria held her hand, Mrs. Stanton helped deliver the baby, and Eddie provided cold cloth to pat her forehead and clean linens to swaddle the newborn. 

She had another son and named him Dusty, like the desert. “Unoriginal name,” Eddie commented. It was the first time he’d spoken in two weeks. Well, it was the first time he spoke to someone other than Steve’s grave or Lydia, who was now his horse just as much as Shadowmere was. 

“You have a better idea?” Wren asked, face flushed and sweaty from exhaustion. She was barely audible, falling asleep a few minutes later. Eddie didn’t answer, cutting then tying off the umbilical cord instead. Mrs. Stanton stared at him, eyes speaking all of her unspoken questions. 

“My mother was a nurse,” he explained three days later, after he had warned Lucas against giving the baby honey. 

Life moved quickly after that. Well, life always moved quickly when you were trapped in time. Never aging, never moving; Eddie was staying still while life moved around him. Dusty became a spitfire. He looked nothing like Steve, for obvious reasons, but he looked a lot like Wren. When the boy had turned four, Wren confided in Eddie that the boy looked much like Liam. The woman found herself developing a difficulty to be around the kid for this reason, so Eddie took it upon himself to raise the kid as his own. 

As for the rest of Fool’s Gold, the town flourished once Eddie took charge. They tried to turn him into their sheriff or mayor, but he shot that idea down almost immediately. Just because the man he loved was the sheriff didn’t mean he’d willingly throw down his life for the law. Instead, he promised to simply be a protector, but he wasn’t about to bend to any laws made by fickle men.

Lucas’s younger sibling eventually started going by Erika, and she was strong and good with a gun. She and Lucas started training with Eddie to shoot and fight. When their mom died of some mysterious disease that Eddie would later hypothesize as cancer, they moved in with him. He expanded the house, dipping only a toe into his vast amount of wealth. Lucas eventually married a young girl in town, the daughter of a cobbler. Wren and Victoria also got “married”. With no laws and a town he protected, Eddie got the chance to make the kind of home he knew folks needed back then. 

Shadowmere eventually died, as all horses did, and Lydia was quick to follow. They were friends, after all, and horses didn’t live long alone. While burying horses wasn’t very common, Eddie spent all night each time. He gave them marked graves and asked for the town’s priest to pray over them. Despite their differences, Eddie considered the man a friend. He’d never go to church, but they still talked. After that, things continued on as life always does.

The world around them kept growing, but Eddie stayed. He stayed well after Wren’s death, when the woman caught a fever and died in the night. He stayed until Charlie got killed after a horse fell on him. Victoria followed soon after from sickness. That was simply how life was back then in a place as deadly as the desert, so all Eddie had was a large house and three estranged orphans. It wasn’t all that shocking of a life for him to end up with; he always had a tendency to pick up strays.

It was odd, having kids. Lucas was the oldest, and he had kids of his own by now. They all called Eddie grandpa despite the fact that he was physically younger than Lucas. Erika was nearing adulthood, and she talked about someday owning the saloon where she worked. Little did she know that Eddie was gonna give it to her on her birthday; he owned most of the buildings in town. Dusty, as young as he was, was as energetic as a shooting star. All he wanted to do was shoot guns and ride horses. He was the only kid who called Eddie dad, and that seemed to work on his heartstrings. He started teaching the boy when he could barely walk. A decade later, Dusty would be one of the best bandits in the West. He followed in Eddie’s footsteps and sent letters whenever he could. 

He visited home as many times as he could. It wasn’t often, as he was just as wanted as his old man was, but he came at least once a season. One day, the kid turned man came home in a casket, and Eddie buried him next to his mother, crying for the first time since Steven died. 

Ten years later, Eddie got a letter from Benjamin. The man was old now and sick, and he wrote nothing but an address and a single sentence. 

‘Don’t let God beat you if you still want revenge.’ 

It made him laugh. At first, he was gonna let the old man go, let bygones be bygones, but then he looked in the mirror to see the young man he’d always been and thought what the hell?

Eddie knew he’d never return to Fool’s Gold the moment he left, so he gave whatever he had left in his nearest hideout to Lucas and his family, bought the land for everyone to own themselves, then set off towards the East. Benjamin was dying on an island off America’s coast. Eddie, when he arrived by a boat he definitely didn’t steal (old habits died hard), seemed to be the only white man for miles, and if it wasn’t for Benjamin’s grandson telling everyone to back off, they probably would’ve banished him. 

It was a good thing Victoria taught him French, as they spoke it here. Albeit differently. Benjamin spoke French when Eddie found him, and their conversation was simple. 

“I told you he’d be young,” Benjamin wheezed when Eddie walked through the door. “I told my boy you’d be young, but he didn’t believe me.” The “boy” was a grown man probably in his early twenties. Ben lived a lot longer than Eddie thought he would.

Eddie didn’t smile but didn’t frown either. He just sat by Ben’s bed and grabbed his hand. It had been years since Steve died, and even though his grief would never leave, his rage eventually trickled like a slowly drying lake. “There a reason you wrote me, Ben?” 

“I’ve confessed my sins, but I never did say sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. You were one of my best friends.” Benjamin couldn’t count when they met, but it had been about thirty-five years. If Eddie had to guess, the man was fifty or sixty at this point. “I killed your family, and I’m sorry.” Despite his weakened state, Eddie could tell the man was being genuine. He truly felt bad, and it made the old, old pirate sigh. 

“While my grief never dims,” Eddie began, “I won’t allow my anger fuel this moment.” He glanced around the small house, which had two beds, a kitchen, and a small table, “You found a family again, I see.” 

“A wife, a son, and a daughter,” he responded, dry lips cracking when he smiled, “I got five grandkids and another on the way.”

“I’ll leave them some money, Ben.” 

“You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s my revenge.” He smiled toothily, “Provide for them in a way you never could.” Ben weakly pinched Eddie’s arm with a soft smile. It made the older man laugh and bat his hand away. He leaned forward and, with a tone usually saved for jokes, asked seriously, “Shall I kill you now, or should I let you say goodbye first?”

Benjamin smiled softly in the face of death. He sat up, aided by Eddie’s offered hands. “Let me see the sunset once more. You can kill me when we see stars.” It was a deal that they shook on before Benjamin had to lay back down. A young woman walked in with food and invited Eddie to eat. Death ate with a dying man and his family, and Eddie was the one holding the scythe. 

Two days later Eddie took the old man out to the beach to watch the sunset. Eddie learned years later that they were in a place called Haiti, so the horizon faced the west and truly did sink as it should. By the time the stars came out, Benjamin’s breathing was already slow. Eddie, having heard men die over and over, timed the man’s labored breathing with his knife entering the man’s heart. For some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to give Benjamin a painful death as he had with John. “Thank you,” Benjamin weakly muttered. Eddie looked at him, finding pain renewed in his heart all over again. 

Once the man slumped over, a slow trail of blood leaking from around the murderous blade, Eddie collapsed with a scream. He cried for the first time since Dusty’s death. Then he cried some more. He cried until the stars danced in the sky from blurry vision. The last of his revenge for his love, and all he felt was pain. No rage. No bloodlust. Just pain. It wouldn’t bring Steve back. It wouldn’t break the curse. All he did was take away another soul just as Steve’s was taken from him. Was this his life? Would he ever even attempt to wash the blood off his hands? 

“Live…” Steve had said, and maybe that was the key to all of this. To wash the blood. To find a way to continue. To stop standing still and letting the world fly by around him. 

He decided then and there that he was tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of being a thief and a killer. Even if he hadn’t been a bandit or a pirate in a long time, he knew he had to at least take a break, if only for a while.

Yes, Eddie would live. He’d do it for Steve, and he’d do it for himself. The world was beautiful; Steve taught him that Eddie deserved to see it. At least until the next time Steve returned to his life. 

When that time came, Eddie would fall in love all over again. He’d love Steve as always, but love wasn’t enough. Not in a poisoned world doomed to make anything beautiful ugly. Steve turned ugly. 

Their daughter turned ugly. 

1886

The year Eddie didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye.