A/N: This story was inspired by Powers of Persuasion by dreamdescend, in which Elizabeth Swann resorts to a *different* form of negotiation to get Beckett to sign the Letters of Marque in Dead Man's Chest. This is my personal spin-off of that scenario and explores what would happen if Elizabeth and Beckett ended up having two kids.

I love Will/Elizabeth as the canon pairing (and Henry Turner), but canon is canon and fanfiction is fanfiction. ^_^ This will be a rewrite of the time period covered by At World's End, though it will adhere to the spirit of the movie events. (And yes, I did do all the math/science/logistics and have found a way to make Elizabeth carrying twins during that timeline plausible; I'll elaborate in footnotes when it becomes necessary). I'm a fan of pretty much all the POTC cast, so most of the major characters from AWE will make an appearance here. There will also be some references to The Price of Freedom by A. C. Crispin, which explores Jack's backstory with Beckett (and a book I'd definitely recommend).

Hope you enjoy!

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The Escapees

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"Why fight when you can negotiate?"

- Captain Jack Sparrow

1.

Honoured Sir,

I hope this letter finds you in good Prosperity and Health. I have requested it to be given directly to your trusted Agent, [scratched out] for personal delivery as it concerns a matter highly sensitive to me.

I pray you will forgive my boldness in writing to you. I suspect it was your intention upon our parting to never set eyes on me again, which I had indeed understood to follow from the temporary nature of our concluded agreement. In this vein I would also like to express my gratitude to you for fulfilling your promised end of it and for showing mercy to my family.

However a certain matter has since arisen and I found I could not in clear conscience withhold from you this information. Namely, in the months after we parted I discovered that [scratched out] Namely I was certain that you would wish to be informed of a certain Change in Affairs within the Household of the Governor of Port Royal, currently under your Supervision [scratched out] informed that I recently [scratched out] informed of two Children born on the Sixth Day of this previous April [scratched out]. Forgive my frankness again, but there has been nobody else except for you so by all rights you are their Father.

I confess that I find myself at a loss for adequate words to express myself, and I daren't trust those which presently do come to mind, for fear that they will seem to you trite and silly. But I flatter myself in hoping that you will perhaps find to be of interest the affairs of the Boy and Girl, whom I have named [scratched out] [scratched out]

I do not presume to ask anything of you, Sir, and shan't take up your time but to ask for your most valuable Guidance and Advice [scratched out] and in any case I would be grateful for your taking to Heart [scratched out]

[Several more drafted lines scratched out to the point of illegibility].

Ever your Fr[scratched out] Yours affecti[scratched out] Yours respectf[scratched out]

[Page abandoned].

. . .

Honoured S[scratched out]

L[scratched out]

[Several lines scratched out]

I must confess I do not know why I am writing this. It is probably of no interest to you, and I have already resigned myself to the fact that I will likely never find the strength in me to send it. But if you could only see me now, how my pen hangs here over each clean page I take, then perhaps you would know how difficult after all it is for me to speak to you. Words fail me. I am faced with an utter stranger.

But nonetheless, the Truth shall remain with me. The only thing keeping me from revealing it is knowing the undue Harm it would cause.

The Children [scratched out] [scratched out] but as I have resolved, neither of them shall know and I am convinced that they shall be better off for it.

I hope you are pleased with yourself. No, I am certain you are.

[Several more lines written and scratched out]. [Several ink drops]. [Dried tear drops].

[Page abandoned].

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Five Months Earlier

Elizabeth was back in Port Royal. The cloak she had been given hid her face and clothes well, but she had to stifle the recurring urge to walk quickly. Thankfully no one had cast her a second glance at the docks, and the people on the streets probably thought she was just a poor woman on a daytime search for a tavern. Indeed, her outer appearance supported the disguise, her skin pale and her eyes squinty from prolonged lack of light.

The town hadn't changed much. If anything, it looked... cleaner. More orderly. The streets had been swept and many buildings in the business district had been repainted. The clock tower in the center square had been washed and polished, a garden of colorful flowers and palms surrounding it. The streets were alive with carriages and carts, men and women casually going about their business. Though Elizabeth's gaze never missed the posters – wanted posters, pasted on walls at nearly every major gathering point, bearing the faces of burglars, outlaws, pirates.

Elizabeth proceeded through the streets, heading to the north side of town, until finally she caught sight of her destination rising up on a hill: the governor's mansion.

She ascended the gradual incline, walking alongside the road. Here, carriages and people grew sparse and the greenery thickened, as the town faded to make way for the presiding family's private property. At last Elizabeth glimpsed the tall iron gates, beyond them a vast lawn with shrubs and palm trees bordering the dirt pathway. The windows of the gray mansion were all closed, blankly reflecting the daylight. Elizabeth approached the bars of the gate, but she couldn't see anyone roaming about, not a single servant or gardener.

Then, suddenly, a slip of black and red caught her eye. Elizabeth turned left to see a young soldier round the inner curve of the fence, emerging from behind a clump of trees. The black was his tricorne hat and tunic, the red in the sleeve cuffs and collar, also bordering the golden buttons down the front. He had a musket in his hand and was marching along the perimeter, his gaze focused ahead. He gradually approached the gates and passed by the spot where Elizabeth was standing. His gaze slid to her, and Elizabeth looked at him as well. His face was unfamiliar. The soldier tightened his grip on his musket in warning, then kept going.

He did another round about the property, infuriatingly slow, disappearing behind the large house before coming back around the way he had come. When he saw that Elizabeth was still there, he slowed to a stop.

"This isn't a museum, Madam," he said.

"I live here!" Elizabeth replied.

"I don't think so." The soldier kept walking.

Elizabeth's heart hammered and she pounded her hands against the iron bars. "My name is Elizabeth Swann!"

The soldier paused. After a moment, he turned around, blinking at her in puzzlement. He started to walk back towards her. But just as he reached the bars again, his gaze shifted from Elizabeth to something behind her. His eyes widened and he stepped back out of reflex, and moments later Elizabeth felt a hand grab her shoulder.

"Elizabeth!"

Elizabeth jumped, whirling around to the person who had caught her. She was in such shock that it took her a moment to recognize the face.

It was her father.

. . .

Governor Weatherby Swann ordered the soldier to open the gates. The soldier complied, unlocking them and heaving them open one by one. Elizabeth turned back to see her father's carriage stopped a little ways down the road, another black-uniformed soldier at the reins and looking at them in surprise. Weatherby beckoned for him to keep going and escorted Elizabeth into the house on foot.

The soldier who had been patrolling the perimeter of the fence followed them inside. He continued to eye Elizabeth warily, but said nothing as he followed them into the Swanns' parlor. Weatherby dismissed the butler, who had been dusting the furniture, and waved to the soldier as well. The soldier went to the doors, but instead of leaving, he simply closed them and stationed himself beside them.

Left relatively alone, Weatherby turned to Elizabeth and placed his hands on her shoulders, gaze running over the dirty fabric of the cloak. "Elizabeth, I was so worried about you! Did Lord Beckett send you here?"

Elizabeth's blood went cold for a moment. Then she willed it away and swallowed. "No. No, I found my way here on my own."

Her father frowned in puzzlement. "I had thought..."

"What?" Elizabeth looked at her father, fear stirring inside her. Did he know something?

But a moment later, her father's expression mellowed out and he smiled. "It doesn't matter. I'm glad you chose to come home." He hugged her. Elizabeth hugged him back, washed over with gratitude and relief. But still, something felt strange. Her father looked well, but he was tense. He kept casting glances to the soldier who was standing at the door, aloof and yet watching them, holding his musket cordially at his side. Elizabeth's gaze flickered to the black straps that crisscrossed his chest on the front. There was a large metal clip pinned to them, bearing a three-spoked emblem with letters. EICo.The logo of the East India Trading Company.

Elizabeth turned back to her father. "How long have you been here?"

"A good month," Weatherby replied. "They've... put me under house arrest. All my correspondence is monitored and I'm not allowed to see anybody without permission. Nor is anybody else here." He cast another glance at the soldier, who stood as still and silent as before.

"Why not?" Elizabeth asked.

Weatherby shook his head. "It's better that you don't know. Some plans of the Company's. I... I'm not allowed to say."

"Then don't say it, Governor," the soldier warned.

Elizabeth's head snapped in his direction. Her heart had begun to beat a bit faster. What were their plans? Had they managed to track down the other Pirate Lords?

The soldier went back to being a statue, and Elizabeth turned away again, thoughts churning. It didn't matter. At this point, the best thing she could do for them and for herself was to stay in hiding. Everyone still had their Pieces of Eight, including her, and that meant it was her responsibility to keep it safe until it was needed. As well as keep her information safe, and that meant herself.

Looking back up at her father, Elizabeth managed a smile and nodded. "You don't have to tell me anything, Father. And you won't have to worry about my safety any longer. I will stay here."

A smile broke across Weatherby's wrinkled features and he kissed her head. "How... how is Mr. Turner doing?" he asked, attempting a change in subject. "Is he well?"

Elizabeth's smile faltered. "I haven't seen Will in a while. I don't know where he is."

"Oh. Well, I'm certain we'll receive word eventually."

Elizabeth nodded again. "I hope so."

Weatherby sent for the maids, and they took Elizabeth up to her room, where they helped her undress and gave her a bath, just like they had always done. The peaceful environment of her spacious, sunlit home was a jarring contrast to the world she had left what seemed like mere moments ago. She had been standing in Shipwreck Cove as Pirate King of the Brethren Court, had declared war and ordered the release of Calypso, when suddenly a group of lookouts had come rushing in and reported that Lord Beckett's armada had traveled much faster and farther than they had accounted for. The five-hundred-or-so-ship-strong force with the Endeavour and Dutchman in the lead was gaining on the island and was making moves to encircle it. The Pirate Lords had erupted in panic and outrage. There was no way they could prepare their vessels for battle formation in time. So instead of fighting, they all retreated to their own ships and fled the island, each to his or her own devices.

All exactly as Calypso had divined.

Worse, the Pirate Lords had all taken their Pieces of Eight with them, making her release impossible, and thus nullified the only reasonable chance the Brethren had to fight the Armada.

In other words, the Brethren's gathering had been a failure. They had come so close to mounting a counterattack that Elizabeth had begun to feel the adrenaline of battle creep into her, the desire and anticipation of getting a long-awaited task over with. Then, at the last moment, their spark had fizzled and died.

She had stepped down into the brig of the Black Pearl feeling confused and forlorn, Sao Feng's necklace clutched in her hand, knowing that all of it had been inevitable and yet unable to come to grips that it had happened. From within the bars of her cell, Tia Dalma simply looked out at her with a calm gaze. The revelation that this woman, the strange voodoo magician, was the imprisoned goddess had surprised Elizabeth, though in retrospect she knew it probably shouldn't have. Indeed, she gave off an aura of serenity, but beneath that, Elizabeth had realized, there was a shiftiness and darkness, much like the waters themselves.

Tia Dalma had made a promise to help Elizabeth, in exchange for Elizabeth helping her. And the time had come for their bargain to begin.

So, while the unsuspecting crew of the Black Pearl scrambled around deck and Jack and Barbossa argued over the ship's new course, they had made their preparations. Not long after, in the dead of night, Elizabeth had quietly lowered a rowboat into the water and rowed it away with a few gentle strokes, pieces of cloth tied around the oarlocks to muffle the sounds. One moment she had been ducking down beside Tia Dalma to hide herself, watching the Black Pearl slowly fade into the distance, then darkness had crashed over her entire awareness and she had drifted off into a deep sleep. She had only woken once their boat was drifting through the familiar misty river leading up to Tia Dalma's cottage. There, the months had passed. No word of trouble had ever come; the Pirate Lords had vanished without a trace, and it seemed that the Company had stopped its search for them. But Elizabeth knew that wasn't the case. The Brethren had simply left the would-be battle in a stalemate; sooner or later, something would have to break it.

She just didn't know what.

But in any case, a plan was a plan. Perhaps the Brethren would reconvene in the meantime and call to their newly-elected King on their own, perhaps they wouldn't. And Elizabeth knew she would have a lot to take care of, anyway.

After her bath, Elizabeth combed out her hair and put on one of her old, customary dresses and proceeded to meet her father for a much-awaited meal. Weatherby was about to lead her to the dining room, but right before descending the staircase, he stopped.

"There is... something else you should know about," he began, a bit tentatively.

Elizabeth looked at him. "What is it?"

Weatherby turned and led her to one of the guest bedrooms. Inside was her maid, Estrella. She was holding a baby and cooing to it gently. Another one lay in an adjacent crib, one of two that had been positioned near the bed. Elizabeth felt her stomach drop.

"We found them," said Weatherby. "A boy and a girl. They were lying on our doorstep earlier this month and we took them in. We haven't been able to find their parents."

Slowly Elizabeth approached Estrella and looked down at the child in her arms. Its tiny body was swaddled in blankets, its head covered by a frilly white cap. Its eyes were closed. The one in the crib was sleeping as well.

"We were going to put them in an orphanage," said Estrella. "But they've been very well behaved and we've grown rather fond of them. I suggest we should keep them at least for another month, but after that, of course, we'll leave it up to you and the governor whether to keep them, Miss Swann."

Elizabeth stood frozen over the crib, back rigid. "Do they have names?"

"No, Miss Swann. In truth, we were less focused on naming them and more on feeding them."

Elizabeth turned around to look at Estrella and her father. "Well... our house is a rather empty one anyway," she said. "And I hate the thought of what would happen to them if we simply let them go with no one left in the world. I think we should take care of them. As wards. For now, at least."

Estrella smiled, then looked to Weatherby. The governor smiled slightly as well and shrugged a shoulder. "Well, I have no objections."

Elizabeth turned back to the crib, hoping that the swell of relief inside of her was sufficiently masked. She wondered what it was about them that had stirred her father's heart. Perhaps he had just been so concerned about his only child's well-being that it had triggered parental feelings towards these new ones.

Finally, she straightened and turned to them with a smile. "In that case, I suppose we should name them, then."

Weatherby clasped his hands behind his back. "Well, I don't have any ideas… Do you?"

"Hm..." Elizabeth looked up at the ceiling, speaking slowly and trying not to sound as if she had had them in her head the whole time. "How about... Robert. And Alice."

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She had been given the choice between family and mission. She had chosen family. Hadn't that been the right thing?

Her father would have definitely thought so. It was the choice he himself had made, after all, going into Beckett's service simply to get her home safe again. And now here she was, safe at home again, and by her own free will, too. Certainly, she could have stayed on the Black Pearl and sailed off with Jack and the others, but with no plan and no fleet and no organization in sight, their voyage would have descended into years of meaningless drifting. No one would have known where they were, and she wouldn't know where anybody else was. But she did know that she had a caring father worrying about her. So Elizabeth had done the right thing and gone home to look for him.

And hadn't it been what Will had done as well? All throughout their voyage to rescue Jack, he had been nothing short of possessed by the thought of saving his father from the Dutchman. In fact, he had probably struck some kind of deal with Beckett himself, though Elizabeth could only surmise what it had been about. She remembered Jack's remark in Shipwreck Cove that whoever betrayed their location was likely someone not among them. ("Where's Will?" she had asked. "Not among us," Jack had replied.)

Elizabeth's emotions were a tangle of hurt and understanding. Will's express purpose for accompanying them to World's End had been to save his father, so his deal with Beckett must have been towards that end, his father's freedom in exchange for the Brethren's location. Elizabeth could understand him because she knew she would have stopped at nothing to save her own father if he had been captured and imprisoned somewhere. Even if it meant sacrificing herself.

Because ironically, she had already done it.

Even now, nearly a year later, Elizabeth flushed at the memory. She knew it had seemed like the only option available to her at the time, but now, with hindsight and the buffer of several months giving clarity to her thoughts, she wasn't sure if it had been the preferable option at all. She didn't know what her father would say to know what she had done to save him from arrest in the first place, though she was now theoretically free to tell him at any moment, to walk into his room (if he wasn't in the children's room playing with them), and tell him who their parents were.

No, she would never do that.

He would never find out, and neither would the children. Why would she tell them that their father was someone who was after both her and her family? Who had once had the express intention of hanging her and probably wouldn't flinch from it had he been given the opportunity now? Who had never regarded her as more than a means to an end, the same way she had regarded him, and who wouldn't even want them? No, better to raise them with no father at all and have them think that their parents were two good people, who loved them and each other with all their hearts but sadly due to a twist of fates were no longer around to take care of them. Such was fate, after all. And they would learn sooner or later that order to change an entire course of events, all it took was a touch.

A touch of destiny.

Elizabeth had started several drafts of a letter early on, but then finally she gave up and locked them away.