Edward's father pushed him away, and he fell into Anne's arms. His legs were weak, and he had difficulty moving. The drink and the loss of blood were taking its toll on him, and he could feel the void creeping up on him.
"You would have had me if you weren't so weak," Jack scolded. "Try again when you grow a spine."
In front of Calico Jack, his crewmates stood as an honour guard, shielding him from any harm. All the while, the crowd was still chanting and getting closer.
Edward put all his strength in his feet and pushed Anne towards the back of the tavern. The crowd didn't pounce on them, they simply forced them back with each step they took. They were letting them go, but Edward didn't know for how long that would remain so. They needed to run.
Anne kept her pistol trained on the crowd, shifting its muzzle from one person to the next as she backed towards the tavern's kitchen. In the kitchen, the men and women who worked the tavern continued the chant in the tight corridors. Their eyes stayed trained on Edward and Anne, but it felt as though they were looking through them.
Edward and Anne stumbled out of the back exit of the tavern to the alley, where Herbert and another crewmate were waiting. Herbert's eyes looked like saucers at the sight of Edward.
"What happened?" he shouted.
"By the sound of the Golden Horn!" Behind them, the chant was getting closer.
"There's no time!" Anne yelled back. "We're getting out of here. Someone help me with Edward."
Edward tried to get to his feet to help his wife and crew escape, but he'd lost his strength long ago. His head became leaden, and his eyes closed. As his world faded to black, the image of his aged father stabbing him in the back burned in his mind.
2. Resolve
Edward awoke with a jump and a pounding headache. By the time he was sitting upright, the pain in his backside flooded over him. He grabbed his left side where the wound was and turned over to avoid lying on it again.
"Welcome back, mon ami," a familiar French voice called behind him.
Still deep in pain, Edward lowered his head and peered through the crook in his arm to see an upside-down Alexandre sitting behind him. He smiled in his hollow way and turned his head slightly to match Edward's orientation before waving to him.
Edward lifted his head and glanced around. He was back on the ship in the surgeon's own room. Various bottles filled with coloured liquids dotted secured shelves alongside every manner of medical equipment and textbooks from across the globe. The strange concoction of medicine and decay hit Edward's nose, and he remembered part of the reason he'd never liked the room.
Edward noticed his body weight shifting back and forth rhythmically. "We're sailing?" he asked.
"Oui," Alexandre replied. "After the run-in with your père, it was decided to leave before trouble follow us."
The pain left Edward in a flash as he remembered what had happened. His father had been in that tavern, and had stabbed him, his own son, in the back. Worse still, his father was Calico Jack, and Benjamin Hornigold before that.
His father had been alive all this time. His father had been alive and hadn't come home.
'Your father is in the Caribbean, Edward.' Those had been the last words of John, the former quartermaster of Queen Anne's Revenge and an old friend of Edward's father. He knew, Edward thought. He didn't like to dwell on that moment, as he had been tortured for days on end afterwards, and so he'd forgotten its significance. He knew where my father was, and who he was, all along.
Edward's hand shook as the pain returned, and not just the physical.
"I need a drink," he sputtered as his eyes became hazy.
After a moment of shuffling behind him, Alexandre handed Edward a glass. Edward took it and gulped the liquid down. After finishing half, he stopped and shoved the glass back.
"Rum," he demanded.
Alexandre produced a flask in an instant as if he'd predicted the desire for hard liquor before Edward had asked. Edward cared not for the surgeon's ways and took the drink. In a matter of seconds, Edward guzzled down half the flask's contents before he had to come up for air.
Edward's hand still shook as he lowered the flask. He took in ragged deep breaths, trying to bring air back to his lungs, which felt, to him, so desperately empty. His head and heart pounded in his chest, and he couldn't make sense of the feeling of dread washing over him.
He finished the flask with abandon and lay there on his elbows for a time. He had trouble thinking and didn't know how much time passed. The drink hit him hard and fast, his loss of blood no doubt contributing to the swift onset. The haze clouding his thoughts changed to a different kind, and ever so slowly, Edward felt he could breathe once more.
Edward looked to his right to see Alexandre there, watching him. Alexandre's eyes were dull and cold, as usual, but Edward thought he could see an expectant look on the surgeon's face. Alexandre must be awaiting some sort of explanation for what just happened.
"Stop staring at me, you damn Frenchman, before I cut your eyes out." Edward cared little for his harsh words now that the drink was affecting him.
Alexandre rose from his seat and walked away without a word. Edward shuffled over and rose to his shaky feet. Turning around, he noticed Victoria, Calico Jack's—his father's—former plaything sitting there watching him.
"Did you know too?" he shouted before tripping over his own feet. He grabbed onto the frame of the door nearby to steady himself.
"Know what?"
