My Siren


HMS Endeavour

Elizabeth ducked behind a gunwale as yet another cannonball pounded into the hull. She winced, pulling her sword from its sheath in preparation for an attack. The pirates hadn't yet come aboard, merely bombarding their ship. Not that the new Endeavour was taking it lying down; the Pearl was in pretty bad shape. In the chaos and confusion, Elizabeth glimpsed her husband striding about giving orders. She couldn't suppress a wry smile; even in the midst of chaos and impending oblivion, he had to be the one in charge.

She straightened from her painful position behind the gunwale, eyes searching for the Black Pearl. She lay off their starboard bow, a bustle of activity, taking and returning fire. Elizabeth couldn't see Jack or Barbossa, but she knew they were aboard. The very thought made her blood boil. Her children were below, no doubt terrified, and she couldn't let anything happen to them. She shuddered to think what might happen if Barbossa discovered her children. He'd already tried to kill them once. Elizabeth shuddered at the long repressed memory.

Suddenly a shout erupted as pirates began swinging over from the Pearl, bearing muskets and cutlasses. The crew of Endeavour, all experienced seamen and marines, instantly swung into battle. Elizabeth even glimpsed Beckett wielding a sword against a particularly scurvy pirate, as thin as a skeleton. Ragetti, she realised with a lurch of her heart. But her husband seemed to be holding his own.

Turning, she found a pirate advancing on her, grinning lustily. She smirked at him, swinging her blade with as much force as she was able. The pirate's leer turned into a snarl as he blocked and came back with his own attack. Elizabeth parried the overhead blow; and riposted, falling back into the rhythm of the fight like a well known dance. She was barely aware of the battle raging around her; so immersed was she in the duel. She and the pirate twirled and spun around each other, searching for a way past the other's defences. But they found none. With a feint to her left, the pirate swung to the right and almost took her head off. Elizabeth caught the hilt of his cutlass with her sword, and twisted, flicking the blade high into the air. It landed in the boards, shuddering with a metallic quiver. Elizabeth would have grinned, were it not for the loaded pistol centred in between her eyes.

"Say goodbye," he smirked, boorishly. Elizabeth scowled at the cheat. Pirates!

As the trigger creaked back, she closed her eyes, sure she was about to die. But then a voice came from behind the pirate, powerful and dark, filled with restrained fury.

"Goodbye," it said, as the point of a sword pierced through the pirate's chest. The pistol fell from the nerveless hand, as the pirate's corpse fell to the floor with a thud. Elizabeth opened her eyes to find her husband standing in front of her, his expression dangerous. His blue eyes glinted with an inner fire, fury and protective possessiveness screaming in the sapphire orbs. Elizabeth felt the deep clench in her stomach, one part fear, and three parts riotous desire. She was going to get it later, if they survived. He gripped her shoulder, almost glaring at her intensely.

"Elizabeth…."

But whatever he thought to say was wiped from his lips, replaced with a snarl as another pirate attacked him from behind, and Elizabeth swung into action. Beckett was soon occupied by another pirate, as they weaved around each other.

The pirate Elizabeth was fighting was so mediocre, she found herself watching her husband warily out of the corner of her eye. He was so graceful, so sure in his movements, moving seamlessly from one attack to another, from a parry to a riposte. He might even have been a finer swordsman than Will or Jack. The revelation surprised her, although she didn't know why. His work in the Company couldn't all have been signing death warrants and sipping tea. But she was pulled back into her duel as her opponent seemed to step up his attack. She lunged and parried desperately, tiring quickly. He was less skilled than she, but he was wearing her down.

If she survived this, she really needed to get back into shape.

She puffed and panted, her skirts slowing her down, tiring her further when finally she found her opening. His sword feinted to her right, and she went to the left, hoping she had read him aright. She caught his cutlass in a lock, yanking it from his hands. The pirate fell back with a strangled yelp, blood leaking from a wound on his hand. He took one look at the fire in Elizabeth's eyes and turned tail. She watched him go with a feeling of cynical amusement. A hand suddenly gripped her shoulder, and she cursed her inattention, they were in the middle of a battle for goodness sake.

She whirled, bringing her sword down in a sweep, about to cleave her attacker's head in two. Her blade met steel as she met the eyes of her assailant. She breathed out in relief. It had just been her husband. His eyes spat blue flames as he yanked her sword arm down, winding his spare arm around her waist, pulling her into the relative safety of the space beneath the aft deck stairs.

"Elizabeth you need to get out of here! Get below and stay there!" He ordered, shouting above the howl of cannon fire and the screams of dying men. Elizabeth shook her head, about to reply, when he desperately kissed her refusal from her lips.

"No, no arguing just get below!" he shouted again, when he deigned to release her, the cold metal of his sword pressing into her back. Beckett held her tightly against his body, braced against the walls of the cabin. "Please Elizabeth!" he shouted, almost pleading. He grabbed her in an almost angry kiss, not wanting to let her go. But she would be safer below decks, he was sure of it.

Elizabeth could barely think through the morass of painful passion he was enfolding her in, temporarily sheltered as they were. But he was right; if, God forbid, Barbossa discovered the twins, they would need her there. She could be of better use below deck. But she didn't want to leave her husband, accomplished though he might be.

"Elizabeth, please," Beckett said pleadingly against her lips. He could see her thoughts all too clearly in her eyes. "I will join you as soon as I can,"

Elizabeth stared into her husband's eyes, searching for that clouding of the iris which indicated to the experienced eye that he was lying. Her own widened.

"You're lying," it was like Norrington all over again, except this time it truly was both their lives on the line. If he was killed, she would never forgive herself for abandoning him, and her life would end. Not even James and Isabella would save her. His eyes filled with exasperation as he kissed her again, pushing her back against the wall of the hull as another cannon ripped into the wall beside them.

Elizabeth was becoming too light-headed to think straight; a fact her husband, damn him, knew too well and exploited too much. She clung to him, hands slipping into his dishevelled hair, beneath the wig as he seduced her into submission. Finally he broke from her lips, one hand cradling her beloved face.

"Please," he pleaded one last time, letting her see the vulnerability in his eyes, "James and Isabella need you, Elizabeth. They need their mother. Please I couldn't bear it if anything were to happen to you,"

"Oh because it's so much safer below deck," she grumbled sarcastically, already giving in to his plea, heart softening at the naked emotion shining in his usually guarded eyes. He growled deep in his throat warningly. She rolled her eyes, then nodded once. He kissed her again in relief, hands desperately hauling her closer, pressing every inch of her lithe body into his for one moment, before he released her.

"Go, go," he urged, pushing her towards the hatch. She paused for a moment, then ran into the melee, ducking and swerving around duelling opponents. Beckett watched her with a heaving heart; moving out of the shadows of the stairs into the fight once more. Once she was safely through the hatch, he turned and threw himself back into the fight. Parrying one blow, he twirled to discover another sword flashing down upon him. He blocked it, pushing the attacking blade away, as he met the murderously glinting eyes of Hector Barbossa.


Elizabeth ran through the corridors of the ship, racing to reach her children's cabin. Up above, the sounds and lessening cannon fire seemed to indicate that the pirates were losing and trying to escape. Elizabeth found she felt nothing towards them; not regret, nor betrayal, nor guilt. She only felt black fear and concern for her family. And for her husband; she knew he would be the main target for any sharpshooters. Her mind filled with nightmarish images of him slumping to the deck, blood leaking from a bullet wound in his chest, a sickly flower of scarlet blooming on the brocade of his waistcoat.

She shook them aside, aware only of the need to reach her children, and to reassure them. Suddenly she heard sprinting footsteps behind her, and she turned half hoping to see Beckett come around the corner. But it wasn't Beckett. It was Jack Sparrow.

"Jack!" she gasped, her sword wavering before she brought it up. Jack skidded to a halt, dreadlocks flying, as he took in Elizabeth's appearance.

"Bloody 'ell, Elizabeth! It's been a long time, eh?" He grinned conversationally, his gold teeth glinting as he looked her up and down.

"Jack," she inclined her head, keeping herself between the door to her children's cabin and Jack, watching his every move like a hawk.

"So….yer married the bugger after all. S'pose its Lady Beckett now, eh?" Jack continued, eyes lingering on her wedding and betrothal rings. Elizabeth narrowed her eyes coldly.

"You assume correctly," she replied, keeping her blade centred on his chest. Jack eyed it narrowly.

"Aww come on Lizzie. There's no need for tha',"

"Let me see, you fired on the ship commanded by the man I love; collaborated in a plot to force me into miscarriage and now you're still trying to kill me and my husband," she listed, eyebrows drawn down into a scowl.

"Let's examine that claim shall we? Firstly, your bonny husband tried to kill me first, and you as well, if you'll recall. As for tha' incident wit yer pregnancy; yer know it was Barbossa who came up with tha' one. If it weren' for me an' Gibbs, you woulda died along with yer baby. And as for righ' now, well we didn't know you or Beckett were aboard. Me an' Barbossa thought it was just an ordinary EITC vessel…"

Elizabeth stiffened at the mention of Barbossa's name.

"He's onboard?" she asked in a deadly whisper. Jack slapped his forehead dramatically, trying to distract her. She didn't buy it.

"Yes he's aboard," Jack finally admitted. Elizabeth's eyes narrowed until she heard a terrified scream from the cabin behind her. A cannonball erupted into the hull somewhere above their heads, and Elizabeth was jolted even further forward as something rocketed into the back of her knees, grasping tightly.

"Mamma!" Elizabeth instantly recognised the terrified cry. She looked down to find James and Isabella clinging to her skirts, as the ship rocked around them. Jack let out a surprised breath, but grasped the moment to get his pistol out and point it threateningly at Elizabeth. Not that he would shoot, but he could use her as leverage to get himself out of this mess. From what he could hear, the battle had turned against them.

"Cheat!" Elizabeth said quietly, as she dropped her sword, either hand on her children's heads.

"Pirate!" Jack shrugged wearily. James and Isabella peered curiously up at the confident pirate captain. Jack peered back.

The boy was a masculine copy of his mother, but the girl looked back at him with a confident arrogance that echoed both Elizabeth and Beckett.

"I know where you got tha' look, little one," he said, smiling winningly. Isabella's gaze didn't waver.

"Jack, please. Leave my children out of this; take me if you wish but leave James and Isabella alone," she begged him, standing defensively in front of them. Something flickered in Jack's cocky eyes.

"James, eh? No doubt named for an ex-fiancé. Good strong name," he chuckled.

"Isabella's second name is Pearl. I thought it appropriate," Elizabeth said stiltedly. Jack looked up at her, surprised.

"Pearl? You mean after….?" He gestured out of the window to the majestic ship, looking distinctly worse for wear. Elizabeth nodded, a slight smile breaking through her coldness. Jack bent down; still keeping the pistol trained on Elizabeth, and leaned towards Isabella. Isabella let go of her mother's skirts, shuffling forward slightly to take Jack's outstretched hand. Elizabeth stiffened but allowed the contact.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Isabella Pearl," Jack said courteously, a gentle smile, one Elizabeth had never seen, on his face. He released Isabella, and she backed away to her mother, something clutched close in her hand.

"Now Lizzie I'll make yer a deal. Come with me as me hostage, and I'll forget I ever saw yer kids," he proposed, suddenly business-like as he straightened, the pistol steady in his grip. Elizabeth paused, unsure.

"Deal," she said finally.


On deck, Beckett stood in the chaos of the ship as the pirates began retreating, back onto the Pearl. They had captured several of them; Beckett personally capturing Barbossa when he had attacked him, and found Beckett was more accomplished with the blade than expected. Now he stood in shackles, that devilish monkey still sitting atop his shoulder. Beckett noted his malevolent gaze with satisfaction until he heard a shout of alarm behind him. What he saw when he turned made his blood run cold.

Elizabeth with Sparrow's sword at her throat, being dragged out of the hatch like some mutated crab, Sparrow holding her from behind. Beckett went to tackle Sparrow, for one moment, completely overcome by his fury.

"Ah, ah ah Milord! Wouldn't want nothin' untoward to 'appen to yer dolly belle, eh?" Sparrow said threateningly, as Groves placed a calming yet restraining hand on his shoulder. Elizabeth watched him warningly form beneath her lashes.

"Cutler, don't you dare do anything stupid!" she snarled, fighting uselessly against Jack's strength.

"Easy on the goods, darlin'," he muttered, as she stood on his foot. Elizabeth rolled her eyes. Always so melodramatic! "Now Lord Beckett, I don' see why we can' come to some sorta arrangement,"

"What do you want, Jack?" Beckett sighed through his teeth, not in the mood for games.

" Not in a very chatty mood, are yer? Just lemme get back to me ship, in one piece an' I'll let yer little wifey here go!"

"Fine, just let her go!" Beckett barked, following Jack's progress back with his wife, motioning the marines away from the last rope to the Pearl, glad that some of his troops were lying in wait aboard the ship; having captured or killed most of the pirates.

"Gentlemen, milady. This is the day you will always remember as the day you nearly…."Jack began as he felt the wooden railing bump into the back of his knees. Elizabeth rolled her eyes, before she locked onto her husband's sapphire orbs. He searched hers for a moment, as an idea took shape in her mind. A tiny flicker of his lashes, and she took that for assent. Knowing she was risking slicing her own throat open, she gritted her teeth.

"Oh for God's sake!" she snarled, as Jack blabbered on. Lord she'd forgotten how irritating he was! She suddenly lunged forward, bending at the waist, Jack's blade digging into the soft skin of her neck. With a cry from the hot pain spreading across her skin, she straightened suddenly, smashing the back of her skull against Jack's face. Jack released her with an agonised yelp, dropping his cutlass to clutch his nose.

"Me nose!"

"Elizabeth!" Beckett lunged forward and yanked Elizabeth into his arms, dragging her away from Jack. She gasped, feeling scalding hot blood trickle down her throat. She was dimly aware of Beckett's hands on her face, brushing her hair back, tilting her head up so he could look into her eyes. "Are you alright? Good God, the bastard cut you!"

"Cutler, please its fine. Don't make a fuss," Elizabeth admonished him, trying to step out of his protective embrace. Beckett just snatched her closer, seemingly forgetting that they were in public. The marines were busy subduing Jack, clapping him in irons. Groves and Harrington were marching around, checking the wounded and surveying damage.

But Elizabeth was completely unaware of all this; she was trapped in her husband's relieved, emotion-filled eyes. He didn't notice her abstraction; he was too busy examining the wound on her throat. The cold wind wormed its way through Elizabeth's skirts, making her shiver, dizzy as she was from blood loss.

"My lord, what shall we do with the prisoners?" Groves asked, stepping up behind the embracing couple. Beckett ignored him, still peering into Elizabeth's eyes concernedly. Her hand ran over his lapels and down his arms. Alarm flared when she heard his sharp intake of breath; she glanced down to find fresh blood under her fingertips.

"You were wounded….?" She gasped, all thought of propriety flew to the winds and she clung closer to him.

"A mere scratch," he whispered reassuringly, a lopsided arrogant grin on his face.

"My lord?" Groves tried again.

Beckett ignored him, kissing Elizabeth's soft lips tenderly, relishing the fact that they were warm and very much alive beneath his. Elizabeth clung closer, putting all her relief into the embrace.

Jack, meanwhile, watched the exchange between the couple with a nauseated expression.

"Get a room, ye two!" he muttered, looking down at his shackles irritably. And he used to wish Elizabeth would kiss him like that! But the comment had the desired effect. Beckett broke from Elizabeth's lips to glare pointedly at the ragtag group of prisoners, standing surrounded by marines with bayonets.

"My lord? What do you wish done with them?" Groves asked again, standing respectfully at Beckett's shoulder.

"I have no need for them. Shoot them and dump the bodies overboard. We'll tow the Pearl to Bombay," Beckett ordered, his voice harsh and forbidding. Elizabeth shivered and stared at him, aghast. She had forgotten how ruthless he was. As the marines began lining the surviving pirates up, she turned back to Beckett.

"My lord you must take them to Bombay, for fair trial. The law demands it," Elizabeth whispered desperately, her eyes on Jack and Barbossa. For some reason, she couldn't bear to see them die. Yes they had betrayed her, very nearly killed her but they had been her friends once. She couldn't let them die in such a way, after all they had been through. They deserved a chance, just as Jack had given her. But Beckett's reply, couched in sheet ice, made her chances of giving them that even more dismal.

"I am the law,"

"They must go to trial," Elizabeth breathed frantically, clinging to her husband's arm. He looked at her incredulously. "Please, Cutler…." She begged him, turning pleading eyes to his. Beckett searched hers, looking for the reason behind her sudden madness. The pirates betrayed her, for heaven's sake, and she wanted to wait for a trial? Was it some silly duty she thought she must perform, as the Pirate King? Whatever her reasoning, he needed to get to the bottom of it, and stamp it out.

He heard the click of the hammers, as the marines prepared to fire. He held up his hand, to halt them.

"Wait. Take them to the brig. They will face trial in Bombay," he barked, staring into Elizabeth's eyes piercingly.

"But, my lord….." Harrington began.

"I said take them to the brig!" Beckett cut across him, emphasizing the order with a raised eyebrow, his voice soft and lethal. The pirates were hauled below deck without any more objections. Beckett continued to stare into Elizabeth's eyes, his expression disconcertingly shrewd. Elizabeth looked away, feeling strangely intimidated. The thought enraged her, and so she looked her husband in the eye abruptly. But the movement brought on a wave of dizziness, pain searing across her neck. Her shaky knees collapsed, and Beckett stooped to catch her, tucking her head into the hollow of his collarbone. "I will take Lady Beckett to our cabin. Have the Pearl towed and the prisoners under constant guard," he snapped, and swept into the captain's cabin.


In their cabin, Beckett laid Elizabeth down on a small sofa, tucked into the corner of their quarters. Elizabeth lay in a kind of daze, barely registering her surroundings as Beckett and Harrington fussed around her. Their conversation descended into disjointed mumblings in her ears, as her mind sank into a meditative state, mulling over the problematic quagmire she had landed herself in. She dimly heard Harrington leave; and then footsteps as her husband came to perch beside her on the sofa. Rallying her strength, she sat up abruptly and moved to get off the cushions.

"I should check on the children," she breathed but Beckett simply pushed her back down.

"You are going nowhere," was the implacable reply.

"But…."

"Hush, Elizabeth. Let me clean this cut," he admonished her, tipping her chin back. Elizabeth felt the rasp of linen on her skin, the cool trickle of water on the base of her throat. She relaxed back into the cushions, then made the mistake of looking up. Her husband's eyes pounced, trapping hers in a kind of silent interrogation, wearing down the walls of her resistance, ready when the time came for the verbal interrogation. She finally found her voice.

"You know, the ship's doctor could take care of this. You, no doubt, have Harrington champing at the bit for you to be doing something else," she remarked, indicating his tending of her wound. He sent her an inscrutable look, emotion flashing over those blue, blue eyes.

"I need to do this. Believe me I do right now," he growled, possessiveness screaming in his tense body. Elizabeth resisted the urge to roll her eyes. He was so overly protective, he was almost suffocating. But she didn't argue, merely enjoyed the feel of his hand, his fingers through the linen cloth as they caressed the sore, lacerated flesh of her neck.

Beckett surveyed the damage beneath his hands, Elizabeth occasionally wincing and sucking in pained breaths when he hit a tender spot. The cut was shallow, only a couple of layers of skin had been sliced and no veins had been severed. She had been lucky; if he had known for sure what she had been about to do, he would have died of a heart attack. He had very nearly suffocated with worry when he had divined her plan.

In almost slow motion, he had seen the metal of the cutlass bite into Elizabeth's soft flesh, the first drops of blood absorbed by the greedy blade. But she was safe now, as he kept reminding himself, safe with him. As he finished cleaning Elizabeth's neck, winding a gauze bandage around the slim column, his mind turned to weightier matters. Such as why she had begged him to spare the pirates' lives, at least until they made it to Bombay. He couldn't fathom the reason behind the action, only that he didn't understand or like it. She had to release her former life, her former sympathies if they were to ever co-exist with some semblance of peace. Beckett was aware of Elizabeth's hand on his arm, her palm burning into his skin. He turned to her, to insist she explain herself, when she sat up, a determined look in her eye.

"My turn," she whispered, gently removing his coat, trapping his arms in the sleeves. He hissed as the material caught the gash on his arm. Elizabeth eased it down, flinging it onto the back of the sofa. She stood up shakily, pushing him away. "Now take your waistcoat and shirt off so I can clean your wound," she said briskly. Beckett just stared at her, as registering his silence, she turned and hands on hips, glared at him. "Off, now!" she pointed to his bloodstained shirt. When Beckett just sat there, she made an impatient noise and yanked his waistcoat down his arms. With a sigh, he knew precisely what she was doing; he removed it, threw it to join his coat and stood up.

He well as may take advantage of the situation.

He took her hand and led her over to the bed, turning and sitting before he tugged his shirt off. Elizabeth fetched the bowl of warm water waiting in a corner, along with gauze bandages and salve, and stood in-between his open legs.

Beckett breathed in the sultry fragrance emanating from her skin, her silky ringlets brushing against his cheek. The slim column of her neck, like fine marble, marred as it was; was temptingly close, the neckline of her shirt revealing the upper swell of her perfect breast. He had to close his eyes to control his reaction to the sight, to fight the temptation. Her fingers skipped over his skin, like butterfly caresses, gently probing and prodding, eliciting pained hisses from him. She worked quickly, jumping every time his muscles flickered beneath her touch; sending him hard looks every now and then. Finally she finished tying the gauze bandage with a flourish.

"There!" she turned away to dispense with the water and salve pot, still within reach of Beckett. "Now…."

Beckett interrupted her by twining his hands around her waist, pulling her forward into his arms, and fell backwards onto the bed, taking her with him. Elizabeth's gasp was muffled as he rolled atop her, pressing her into the bed.

"Be careful of your arm! You don't want….." she was interrupted as Beckett's lips covered hers in an angry, desperate kiss. Their bodies pressed together, the heat of his bare skin burning through the thin cotton of her shirt and shift. Elizabeth arched her back, responding to the ardency rippling through her husband's body, her mind blissfully blank. She slid her fingers under his dishevelled wig, and flicked it off, running her hands delightedly through the silken curls, revelling in their softness. Beckett groaned and kissed her harder, tongue twining intimately with hers.

After a heated moment, he wrenched away, running his lips down her chin onto her neck, avoiding the gauze material. His hands drifted down, and under her back, pulling her up against him. She moaned under the hard evidence of his desire, seductive heat blossoming at the base of her spine. She traced the line of his biceps, trailing her fingers down onto his pectoral muscle, eagerly tangling in the crisp hair. As he shifted against her, she gasped, biting her lip, eyes closed in pleasure, head tilted back against the mattress. But the lack of his lips on hers meant her mind had cleared a little enough to think, and to glance worriedly at the cabin door.

"What if someone comes in? What if they need you on deck?" she whispered hoarsely, feeling the warmth at the base of her spine almost explode as Beckett moved against her harder, rolling his hips into hers. He didn't answer, only pausing in his exploration of her neck to strip away her waistcoat and shirt, leaving her with only her skirt and shift. She kicked off her boots, as he trailed his lips down onto her collarbone, occasionally licking or biting as he moved further. Elizabeth felt his warm breath on her skin, as he stopped and raised burning, desire-filled eyes to her own.

"No-one will disturb us. Harrington and Groves have their orders; they would not dare to disturb me whilst I tend to my wife," he said with a smug grin. Elizabeth narrowed her eyes, really wishing she could wipe it off when he moved suddenly, pinning her arms above her head and looking down into her eyes. "But first you're going to tell me why you begged me to spare those pirate cretins' lives," he demanded in an arrogantly commanding tone. Elizabeth glared and wriggled, trying to sit up but Beckett just lowered his full weight onto her. She had no choice but to submit, unable to move as she was.

Elizabeth searched desperately for a means of escape, for any way out of the dratted situation. But her husband knew when she was lying just as she did him; so there was no point in dissembling. Her husband would accept nothing less than the truth; and wouldn't desist until he got it. She sighed, her breath hitching when the movement pressed against his chest, and glared up at him.

"Very well but you're not going to like it. But first you must promise me not to go on a vendetta against those involved. Promise?" she pleaded, still struggling against the iron shackles of his hands holding her pinned. She knew her husband well enough to know, without conceit, that her tale would enrage him; possibly reigniting his previously relaxed attitude to destroying pirates.

He searched her face, before he nodded once, eyes still boring into hers. Elizabeth took a deep breath, summoning the memories she had long repressed. "When the final battle began to go against us, Jack took the Pearl and ran, along with a few survivors. I was thrown in the brig, whilst the remainder of the Brethren Court decided how to deal with my betrayal,"

Stiltedly, she told him of the Pirate Lords' plot to force her into miscarriage, killing her in the process. But at the last moment; Jack, Gibbs and Ragetti had somehow switched the drug, mimicking the effects of the miscarriage drug but leaving her unharmed. She very nearly died anyway, but after she had recovered Jack had smuggled her off the Pearl, giving her money and leaving her on an island in the middle of the Spanish Main. She had bartered passage off and fled to Jamaica, terrified of what would happen if she set foot in her old world; or let anyone from her old life know she was alive. Gibbs had found her eventually, but he would not betray her. "So in the end, I owe those men my life and the lives of James and Isabella," Elizabeth finished, quite pleased with how she had related the story.

She had managed to keep out Barbossa's involvement in the plot to kill her; even now she had no wish to kill him, even though the memories flared, hot and painful across the surface of her mind. She had had enough of death to last her a lifetime. She looked into her husband's eyes, searching for his emotions but they were blank, empty. She frowned worriedly.


"Why didn't you tell me?" he finally managed. Elizabeth flinched inwardly at the agonized strain behind the words.

"It wasn't your burden to bear. It was mine alone," she whispered. Her statement was met with a tense silence. "What is it?" she whispered. His hands gentled around her wrists; his fingers twined tenderly with hers.

"Those….bastards tried to murder my wife and children, and you ask me 'what is it?'. My God!" he replied brokenly. With that he kissed her, mouth desperate on her own.

Elizabeth floundered beneath the sudden tide of desire, barely able to do more than kiss him back whilst trying to fathom his emotions. His lips suddenly hardened even more, stripping away Elizabeth's reasoning faculties with a burst of pleasure, as his hands released hers to slide beneath her back, pressing her against the rigid evidence of his desire. His hands drifted down, tracing the line of her legs, seeking beneath the material of her skirts, possessively caressing all that was his. That was when it hit Elizabeth; every kiss, every touch, every caress was aggressively possessive; marking her as his, violently reaffirming his ownership. Yet he forgot sometimes; he was hers as well.

She grabbed his face and kissed him back with an embrace so incendiary, both of their minds were wiped clean, left only with the desire to reassert each other's claim. She cupped his nape, pressing him to her as their kiss took on a new urgency, her free hand raking her nails softly down his back, eliciting an agonized groan from his lips. She drank the sound in, giving herself up to their possessive passion.

Suddenly Beckett pulled away with a desperate moan through gritted teeth, his dishevelled waves of burnished hair and burning blue eyes making Elizabeth melt even further into his arms. His swollen lips remained less than an inch from hers, their breaths mixing in a warm exchange. Yearning, aching for him Elizabeth reached up to pull his face back down to hers, when he stopped her; pinning her arms to her sides, and cradling her face in his hands, his body atop hers.

"This changes nothing, Elizabeth. They will still go to trial once we reach Bombay and they will be hanged," he croaked hoarsely, his tone bleak. Elizabeth felt winded, still adrift on their sea of passion, aghast at the coolness behind the fire in his sapphire eyes.

"How can you say that? Whether you like it or not, you owe Jack and the pirates my life, and the lives of our children," she gasped, struggling to form a coherent argument, brain fogged as it was.

"One good deed does not absolve a man, or men, of a lifetime of wickedness," Beckett argued, his tone growing colder. All Elizabeth knew was that she didn't like that tone one bit.

"Let me up," she hissed, glaring at him. He wanted a fight, he would get one. When he had obliged, pulling himself off of her and pacing to the drinks cabinet to pour a brandy, Elizabeth sat up and held the bedpost for support. "If it weren't for Jack Sparrow and his crew, I would be nothing more than shark bait on the ocean floor right now. James and Isabella would not even have been born. What would you have done then?" she asked of him, speaking to his bare back since he refused to look at her. She noticed the slight tensing of his jaw, silhouetted in the sunset, and decided to recklessly shove her spike in further. "Maybe it would have been better for I to have died; so at least James and Isabella need not grow up with such a father….." she trailed off, noticing at last the tensely controlled, predatorial energy coming from her husband in waves as he span to face her.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked aggressively, chin raised at a haughty angle. Elizabeth tried not to stare at his naked torso, licking her dry lips.

"Only that I appeared to have married the wrong man. The children do not deserve a father like you. A man without honour; even Jack Sparrow has a modicum of honour!" she spat, refusing to back down. This was her only chance to save Jack and his crew and so close the door on her past forever. But at what cost?

"I would caution you, madam, from going too far," Beckett said coldly, advancing on his wife. Yet despite the arctic chill of his voice, his eyes shot sparks of molten fury. In response, Elizabeth raised her chin impetuously.

"What are you going to do? Strike me?" she taunted rashly. From the fire in his eyes, she knew she had hurt him enough for him to do so, but he still held his temper in a grip of iron.

"I would never strike a woman, let alone my own wife. But anymore of your imbecility and I will have you confined," he warned her, crossing his arms over his chest domineeringly.

"And I would hate you forever, for such an act. And the moment I was free, I would run from you and never return," she said, reaching for her shirt, tears of disillusionment running down her cheeks. She turned away, about to walk out of the cabin when Beckett grabbed her arm, pulling her back against him. "Unhand me!" Elizabeth all but shouted, fury running freely through her veins.

Beckett held her easily in his arms, taking in her dishevelled appearance. Her lovely eyes glowed with furious determination, her long hair rippling down her back in ruffled splendour. Her skin glowed in the golden candlelight; her body alive with vibrancy. She was so heartbreakingly beautiful when she was enraged, Beckett literally couldn't breathe.

"You are going nowhere, my Elizabeth. You are mine and mine alone; if you ran I would not stop until I had you by my side once more," he growled in her ear, ignoring her impetuous attempts to escape his grasp. "Do not be so foolish," he cautioned her, reining in his lust as she writhed against him.

"I could never love a man without honour," Elizabeth spat. Beckett released her, and she turned to look him challengingly in the eye.

"So we get to the crux of the matter. Does your determination to save those wretches stem from feelings for another? Do I hit the mark?" he inquired sarcastically. Her jaw dropped for one moment, and then she took one step and slapped him hard around the face, her wedding ring leaving a shallow cut in his cheek.

"How dare you! I have never loved that, that, that immoral, unhygienic…." Words failed her, as she noticed him shrugging into his shirt and waistcoat, swiping his coat from the end of the sofa. He replaced his wig, smoothing the hair back and sent her a withering look.

"I believe you have said enough, madam," with that he turned on his heel and made to walk out of the cabin.


"Where are you going? We are not finished here" she called, striding after him.

The cabin door slammed shut in her face. A moment after she hauled on the latch, the lock snubbed.

She let out a frustrated scream, remembering the look in Beckett's eyes when he had mentioned the possibility of her having feelings for Jack Sparrow. Despair filled her, she could not help her former crewmates, and she could not repair things with her husband. Her life was destroyed, in one afternoon. Tears tracked slowly down her cheeks, as she collapsed to her knees against the unyielding wooden door of the cabin, and found herself whispering brokenly, "I love you, Cutler. I will love you alone, for as long as I breathe,"


Outside on deck, Beckett heard Elizabeth's heartbroken whisper, his own heart heaving, screaming at him to turn around and go back into the cabin, back into Elizabeth's arms. To comfort her, to tell her he knew she loved him and that he loved her in return. He loved her so much it was affecting his ability to function rationally.

He could not, as one of the highest ranking company agents in the EITC allow a wanted pirate's freedom, yet could he live with his wife's despair? He knew she would never forgive him, maybe even follow through with her threat to leave him, if the pirates went to the gallows. He walked to the railing of the ship, leaning out over the dark waves; the sun having set and moon rise just beginning. The rocking motion of the ship soothed him, helped him leash the beast released by Elizabeth's rash arguments.

The same beast that bade him walk back into that cabin and enforce his decrees on her in such a way that she would not be able to think of disagreeing. But she would never forgive him, for using their sensual bond against her in such a manner. So what could he do? He could not be associated with their escape, yet he couldn't bear to hurt the woman he loved.

Suddenly, Beckett straightened, an idea coursing through his mind. After a few moments hesitation, he turned and walked decisively below deck.


Some hours later, Elizabeth lay in their bed, shivering beneath the cold sheets in her thin nightgown. The moonlight streamed through glass windows, gilding the tears still streaming down her cheek. She trembled, feeling the cold agony in her limbs. Beckett had not returned to their cabin, and even the visit of her children had not soothed her for long. She had debated roaming the ship until she found him, but dismissed it. A ship at night was not a safe place, injured as she was. It would not be wise for her to venture anywhere near the crew's galley, so late into the night.

So now she lay, wretched and shuddering with barely restrained emotion, trying to drift into sleep, missing the presence of a very warm body in the bed beside her.

She lay with her back to the door, entombed in the cold linen and silk, so lost in her own misery she didn't hear the cabin door open with a slight squeak. She didn't hear the rustle of clothes as they dropped to the floor.

"Elizabeth….." at the whisper, her breath caught painfully in her throat, her silent sobs shuddering to a halt. Hope rose painfully, along with a nebulous desire. Willing her tears away, she turned over when she felt the mattress dip, and his muscled arms appeared on either side of her. Tortured blue eyes met hers, as she took in his appearance. He was bare from the waist up, still wearing his breeches, and his silken brown waves falling across his brow.

The moonlight illuminated the harsh planes, the shadows in his sapphire eyes, the pain inherent within them. He looked so vulnerable, so young in that moment. "Elizabeth, I cannot condone allowing the pirates their freedom, but I am sorry for my harsh words. Forgive me." this last was a painful whisper against her lips, yearning and true regret shining in his eyes for one unguarded moment. She sat up, pushing him away slightly, whipping back the bedcovers. His fingers cupped her chin, tilting her head up.

"I love you so much. Never doubt that," she whispered. His blue, blue eyes flickered before he gently touched his lips to hers; with such devastating tenderness Elizabeth was lost. She threaded her fingers into his hair, pulling herself against him urgently.

He groaned her name, his kiss becoming desperate as though he wanted to devour her, to absorb every inch of her into himself. He switched to torturing her neck with his tongue, biting and sucking the skin ardently. Elizabeth gasped, head arched towards the ceiling until without warning, he tumbled her back onto the bed. She shifted, moaning and breathless beneath him, as he travelled down her body, whispering her name in a silken caress in-between heated open-mouthed kisses over her nightgown. Worshipping the body within it.

His tongue tortured her through the clinging material of her nightgown, as he pushed her towards fulfilment. Desperate to move things along, she threaded her fingers through his hair, and ran her foot up his spine, arching her back invitingly. He paused, the warmth that had begun to build at the base of her spine torturously suspended. Elizabeth watched, breathless with anticipation, as he bent burning stormy blue eyes to hers. His face was like graven stone, the patriarchal planes etched with passion.

"Elizabeth…." With that whisper, he reared over her, crushing her body into the mattress. Their lips rejoined passionately, drinking the other's aroused cries, moving against each other's bodies, eliciting an unbearable friction. The heat at the base of her spine felt ready to explode, frantic, Elizabeth reached between them and pulled her nightgown off and over her head, flopping back among the scattered pillows. After a lengthy, satisfyingly ardent kiss, she tilted her head back against the pillows, breaking the contact between their lips. Beckett gave a small gasp of loss, following her mouth, desperate to recapture her heat. Then he heard her silvery sigh upon the stuffy air.

"Take me. Now,"

Beckett raised himself onto his elbows, taking a moment to flick her hair from her face, before he kissed her fervently, drinking deep. Elizabeth arched, moaning, entreating. The movement pressed her hips against his pelvis, eliciting a curse as he broke from their kiss.

She clung to his back, as he kicked off his breeches, and finally pushed deep into her body. The only thing Elizabeth could see or feel, beyond the starbursts in her mind was her husband's lips on her own, on her neck, drowning in her heat, possessing every last inch of her body. And knew she would never let anything come between them again.


Hours later, in the twisted silk sheets curled around her body, her limbs haphazardly entwined with her husband's, Elizabeth waited patiently for Beckett's slumber to deepen enough, so she could slip from his arms. It was close to midnight; and the guard shift would occur soon.

Whilst their bodies had cooled from their heated lovemaking; Elizabeth had concocted a plan to free Jack and the others, without involving her husband in any way. He was right; if there was any suspicion that he was involved, he would lose everything, including his life. And that was something Elizabeth could not condone.

At the guard change, she would knock out the guards, swipe the keys, get the pirates back onto their ship, and then cut the tow ropes, letting them disappear into the night mists. All without being seen, of course.

It was risky; especially if she was to be seen or caught, but she was confident she could do it. The trickiest part would be slipping out of bed, and back into it undetected. This would be her only chance, as she knew from experience her husband slept deepest after they had made love. She could only pray he wouldn't awaken before she returned.

Carefully, Elizabeth inched from beneath Beckett's arm, finally with a relieved sigh, slipping from the sheets with a faint rustle. She padded across to her chemise and skirt, silently pulling them over her head, hunting noiselessly for her shirt and waistcoat. Locating them at last, she dragged them over her head and stood straight, the moonlight haloing her figure. She tucked a pistol into her waistcoat, before she slipped into her boots. Throughout this whole process, she had avoided looking at the sleeping form of her husband, afraid her emotions would worm their way through her resolve, and render her weak. After all he hadn't specifically forbidden her from helping Jack, only that he couldn't have anything to do with it. Shaky reasoning maybe; but it was all Elizabeth had to cling to.

As she tiptoed to the door, she glanced back, watching the prone form of her husband, the deep rise and fall of his chest. Anguish filled her for a moment.

"Forgive me," she breathed, as she snagged her cloak from its place on an armchair, swinging it around her form, swathing herself in black shadow. She ducked out of the door into the night.


She managed to close the cabin door silently, thanking heaven that the hinges were well oiled, so they swung open and closed easily. In the corridor; she crept along, senses straining for any footstep or breath, or voice. Her nerves stretched unbearably, her hands shaking. She couldn't let her mind even think about what would happen if she was caught. Finally, after flitting from shadow to shadow in the dimly lit corridor, she reached the double doors leading to the main deck. Taking a deep breath, she slipped through it soundlessly.

Once outside, she darted from shadow to shadow, staying away from the lanterns, keeping an eye on the two sentries standing at either end of the ship. Reaching the hatch without incident, she let out a relieved breath and opened the heavy wooden door, the hinges grinding together in the silent night air. Elizabeth winced, yet the sentries didn't seem to have heard. Quickly, before she lost her nerve, she slipped into the gap. Below decks, the air was musty and close, drawing sweat from the pores of her forehead. Elizabeth wiped them away contemptuously. She, the Pirate King, was sweating over sneaking a few pirates out in a jailbreak! She had done much riskier deeds in her life.

She slipped past sleeping marines in hammocks, their rifles slung against the walls in ordered rows, past snoring sailors with drool trailing from the corners of their mouths. One snorted in his sleep, stirring slightly, and Elizabeth jumped, just managing to stop her instinctive shriek. One hand over her mouth, she waited in the darkness, until the sailor sank back into slumber, turning over in the hammock. Letting out a sigh of relief, she continued on her way.

Slowly she approached the brig, listening intently for footsteps, readying her pistol. She peeked through the half-open door, and came face to face with the red material of the marine's coat in front of her. Her eyes filled with grim intent, she moved into the room, watching with some amusement at the looks of surprise on Jack and Barbossa's faces when they spotted her.

The marine stood, glaring smugly at his captives, when there was a loud clonk and he collapsed like a felled tree. Elizabeth pulled down her hood, looking Jack squarely in the eye as he came to the bars to gaze at her wide-eyed.

"Elizabeth what are yer doing?" he asked, incredulously. He didn't dare let hope rise in his expression. Elizabeth swiped the keys from the marine's belt and stepped forward.

"Getting you out of here," she said simply, moving towards the cell door.