A/N Probably should have put this in the previous chapter, but I'm sorry I haven't updated in a looooong time. No excuses really, I just had author's block and didn't want to post a crappy chapter. Which is unfair to those who actually like my story and I feel bad I started something and didn't continue on a consistent basis. So this is probably a sign to me that I should plan better, haha. I hope people still want me to write, but even if no one cares, which is understandable since I've took so long to update the last chapter, I still want to finish this story. I'm getting really close and will be trying my hardest to finish this summer. For those that have waited and are still with me I'm sorry. For those that just started reading this story, congratulations for starting when I finally found some inspiration and time to write.

Chapter Twenty Five

Captain Kai had given Beatrice a storage room to sleep in for the duration of her stay on his ship. He wasn't generous enough to give her his quarters, but he wasn't stupid enough to stick her in the crew's cabin. She had a thin rolled up mattress type thing and a block of a pillow that Kai said he traded an Asian for. She pushed it into a corner near a small window in the back of the room. She had a lantern and a few blankets. She only had a small space; the rest of room was filled with crates. When she was first shown the room they were all randomly placed and she had to squeeze through the room to find a space in the back. She stacked the lighter ones along the walls except for the space in the back and pushed the bigger ones to the other half of the room. Some were too heavy for her to lift or push, so she left them where they were.

Over the course of her stay the ship had made many stops at different pirate ports and they had been a breath of fresh air to Beatrice. She had been on ships for long periods of time, but she always had someone she could talk to. She had been correct in her assumption that only Kai and Omari spoke English and those two weren't exactly the most conversational. Omari still thought being within ten feet of her would cause the ship to sink or something equally horrible to happen. So she ended up sitting in her makeshift room for long periods of time, only leaving to get food or for a brief moment of fresh air before the wary looks from the crew sent her back to the storage room. When they reached the ports the hands would go into the storage room to get crates filled with what they were going to trade and come back with new crates. In this time she'd leave the ship to explore and try out the bars. She had met many different looking people, but luckily everyone spoke the same language of money and alcohol.

She had just taken her leave from a very lively bar where she made friends with some locals. Some of Kai's crew was there, but they turned out to be quiet drinkers Not a lot spoke fluent English, but she got by with them teaching her a couple phrases of their language. Whenever she finished a drink she just shouted "Uno más!" and it gave her the correct result of more rum so she kept saying it. There was also a moment where he bar friends kept saying "Ser Patriota" and pointing at her chest. She didn't know what it meant, but it probably had nothing to do with being a patriot. She didn't mind though, her time bar hopping at the different ports they stopped at was the most fun she had in a while. She didn't know when it happened, but at one point she seemed to have forgotten the joy of a good drink and a rowdy crowd.

Beatrice laughed herself silly as she walked out of the bar and back to the harbor, a half empty bottle of rum in her hand. She hummed to herself and staggered down the docks. She stopped and looked around blurry eyed, trying to remember where the boat was tied. The sounds of the waves and ripples hitting the ships were the only noises to be heard. And it was dark; there were a few lanterns strung up along the decks, but they didn't make a large amount of difference on the moonless night. She took another drink as an unsettling feeling came over her. All her mirth slowly slipped away as she looked around. A chill went up her spine and she frowned. She lifted the bottle and downed the remaining liquid and threw the bottle aside, continuing down the dock. The quicker she got back to the trade ship, the better.

The ship was in her sight when she heard the groan on the deck's wood behind her. She spun around, her hand fumbling with the hilt of her sword and her eyes frantic. There was no one there. She pulled her sword out slowly and tried to calm herself. Her paranoia eased, but her body remained stiff. It could have been an animal or a creaky board. She was drunk, not in proper senses, but something wasn't sitting right with her. Suddenly the air felt cold and the silence was too much.

She took a step back, her sword at her side, then another. Once sure that no one would be sneaking up on her she turned. She took only a few steps before swinging around and raising her sword, blocking the club that was aiming for her head. They had hidden in the boat tied to the dock. She knocked the club away and stepped back, holding her sword in front of her in preparation. Her sword was like an extension of her arm after all those years of working and fighting. However, she wasn't in peak condition at the moment and she regretted drinking so much as two more men piled out of the boat. They drew their swords and stood around her, her back to the edge of the deck. She recognized their official blades and the blue uniforms they wore. They were naval soldiers.

"What are respectable soldiers like you doing trying to attack an innocent woman from behind?" She asked, trying with all her might to keep the slur from her voice. The initial shock had cleaned her mind slightly, but the haze was slowly returning. She was confident she could take the three in front of her and run back to the town, but it might take her a bit to find her bearings. After she would have to find a place to hide out till morning and return to the docks when they were scheduled to ship off. If a couple soldiers were looking for her, there were probably others. Only God knew why, but she was ready to put up a fight.

One of the soldiers stepped toward her and she held her sword higher. He laughed. "Innocent? I'd have to disagree. We've been given orders to take you in by any means necessary. And given your state of dress and mannerisms I have my doubts about your authenticity as a woman."

Beatrice surveyed him. This guy looked young, maybe ten years her junior. From the way he held his sword she knew he lacked the experience as well. They sent a new recruit after her. Whoever wanted her really didn't know her. It would be a disgrace if this little shit beat her. She smirked. "What would you know about women, little boy?" She laughed. "Bet the only tit you've sucked on was your mama's."

The boy sneered, his face turning red in anger. "Filthy whore." He lunged at her and even in her drunken state she could dodge his clumsy sword thrust and knock his sword from his hand before he could move back. She kicked his sword into the water before kicking him in the stomach. He stumbled back and his two companions immediately sprang into action, brandishing their weapons.

Beatrice stumbled a bit under their attack, but she soon found her footing and fought the two off. Having a grasp on all of her senses was a little hard at the moment, making dealing with attacks on both sides rather difficult. Soon however, she was able elbow one in the face, distracting him long enough that she was able to take care of the other. She parried his sword and knocked it out of his hand, before punching him. When the one who was elbowed recovered Beatrice knocked him aside with the hilt of her sword, throwing him into the water between the dock and the boat. She turned and ran before they were able to recover, but she was unable to leave the docks as her path became blocked by a large group of soldiers. And there were not swords in their hands, but guns. Beating them seemed too dangerous. She stopped short in shock and tried to think of a new strategy.

One figure stepped away from the group. He was not holding a gun or wearing a uniform. He was an old brown haired man with a black triangle hat, a brown suit, and green overcoat. He may not have been pointing a gun at her, but she was equally terrified of his disturbingly satisfied smirk and smug eyes he had as he gazed at her.

"Drop your weapon." He ordered in a calm voice.

She sought out escape routes, like jumping in the water and swimming, but none would be much help. She had no choice but to place her sword on the deck. When her hand left the sword the man in brown stepped toward her pulling a piece of paper from his inside jacket pocket. "Beatrice Brown, I hold here a warrant for your arrest."

"Arrest?" She burst. "On what charges?"

"The charge are assisting in the escape of a man condemned to death for committed crimes against the crown and empire, and engaging in the act of piracy against the crown and empire."

Beatrice gaped at him. "Everything I've done... all the interactions with pirates were unavoidable, not to mention unwanted circumstances. There is no proof I ever took sides with traitors and I am no traitor."

"I have eye witnesses to your betrayal that gives grounds for arrest. If you would step forward and turn around." The man said, pulling a pair of iron handcuff from around his back. Beatrice glared at him as she stepped forward and turned around stiffly. There was no use fighting when she was at such a disadvantage. She'd find a way out before she was killed. The feel of the cool metal on her wrists distracted her long enough that she didn't see the blow to the head coming until she was on her knees and falling forward. The man tucked his club into his belt and grabbed the back of her shirt before she face planted. She blacked out just as the man held up her head to look him in the eyes. He grinned.

When she awoke she was on a ship, in a large office. She could see the ocean from the window to her left. In front of the windows was a battle strategy table with a giant globe of the world installed into it and a map of the sea on the tabletop covered with little figurines. She was seated in front of a big desk covered in books and other objects, and an ever larger map on the wall behind the desk beside a fireplace. Everything was blurry for a moment, but she focused on the room around her the figure of the man sitting directly in front of her behind the desk stood out the most as her vision cleared. He wore a curled white wig and expensive looking clothes, indicating his higher status. He was a small man, but she figured he ran the ship from the air of superiority that surrounded him like a second skin and the fact he was seated behind the big desk. She tried to stand from her chair, but her wrists were strapped down to the arms of her chair and her ankles to the legs. Her head pounded in pain from a combination of the spot she was hit and a hangover from her drinking.

"Where am I?" She demanded. "Who are you?"

The man smiled and folded his hands in from of him. "My dear, you are under watch of the East India Trading Company. I am Lord Cutler Beckett."

She narrowed her eyes. She had heard of him from Will. He was the whole reason Will and Elizabeth were on this crazy adventure. He was after Jack as well. Why was he trying to ruin her life as well? "How did you know where I was?"

"Your letter to your father was intercepted and you were tracked down to face your charges."

She looked at him as calmly and reserved as a woman strapped to a chair could. "Those charges are bullshit."

His eyebrow raised. "Oh really?" He looked through the papers on his desk. "Then you deny that you left Port Royal for Tortuga-"

"That was a perfectly legal trip!"

"-and once there joined the crew of one Jack Sparrow?" He asked as if she had not spoken.

She narrowed her eyes. "The Governor pardoned me of that."

Beckett smiled. "I have overruled that pardon."

"On whose authority?"

He pushed what she recognized as the warrant the man in the green coat had. She looked closer and could see the seal of the crown. She felt dread fill her. "The king's."

They sat in silence and she let reality drag over her. She stared at the floor for a long time. She knew he was watching her, she could almost feel it. Out of everything she didn't understand why she was there. Why had she not been brought to a jail cell to await her hanging? There had to be a reason she was given the honor of being brought and chained to Lord Beckett. Her eyes found his once more. "What do you want?" She asked quietly.

His smile widened. "I'm sorry?"

"You wouldn't go to the trouble of tracking me down and bringing me here if you didn't need me for something."

Beckett stood and walked around his desk. "You seem like a smart woman Ms. Brown." He stopped beside his strategy table, looking down at all his figurines. "Someone who would take advantage of a situation so things will fall in her favor."

"Well I wouldn't say I'm that ambitious, but I try not to stick my neck out too much." She said with disinterest.

"And such a pretty neck it is. Shame for it to be tarnished by the rope."

A shiver went up her spine and she waited for him to continue. He could order her to be killed at any moment. It would be best for her to just do what he wanted so he'd let her go. If he could get her arrested he could pardon her as well. Once he got what he wanted it would all be over.

"Tell me Ms. Brown, where has your ward and his fiancé gone off to?" He asked casually, lifting a ship figurine and holding it up to examine it.

Shit.

She stiffened. "What do you want with Will?"

"I have no intention of harming Mr. Turner, but he has some information I require on a certain Jack Sparrow."

"Jack's dead." She sneered as her heart gave a painful twist. "Why would you need to worry about him?"

He let out a small chuckle, sending her a knowing smile. "Death is not always the end of a person. I'm sure you're familiar with the tale of Davy Jones?"

She remained calm and didn't let her face show anything she was feeling, but her expressionless face was enough of a confirmation for Beckett. "Then I'm sure you know of his powers over the sea and his role as ferryman to lost souls." He set down his little ship and leaned against his desk in front of her. "You know the extent of his power. After all you are one of the few that encountered his little pet and survived."

A lump too hard to swallow formed in her throat. "And?"

Without a word he straightened and walked past her. She tried to turn her head to see, but he was out of her line of vision. This feeling didn't sit well with her, not being able to see him but knowing he was behind her. She listened, but she couldn't recognize what he was doing. He soon walked back to his desk, holding a small black chest in his hands, a key hole shaped as a heart on the front. She couldn't hold back the gasp that left her lips; she recognized that chest. Beckett's smile widened and he set the chest in front of her on the desk.

"Oh, you recognize this?" He asked in false surprise.

"Where did you get it?" She asked hoarsely, staring at the chest. She could hear the faint beating of the heart of Davy Jones. The last person who had it had ran into the clutches of the Devil's henchmen. She didn't know if she wanted to cry in joy or kill someone.

"It was part of a trade. I must say, I think I got the better end of the deal." He said pleasantly, putting his hand on the chest.

She jerked, her chains rattling in protest at her movements. The sudden need to be free and attack Beckett increased tenfold as rage filled her. "Where is James?" She growled.

He watched her in amusement. "I didn't harm him, if that's what you're thinking. He came to me after all, and has settled quite nicely in his new position as Admiral." She watched him with wide eyes as he trailed back around his desk and took a seat. "Though, those positions are never as stable as one would think. Sometimes we lose people."

"James is a smart and reliable leader. He knows how to take care of himself. It was most likely his freedom and position for the heart." She lifted her chin in defiance. "Are you accustomed to breaking promises Lord Beckett? If so, why should I be inclined to tell you anything?"

Beckett's smile slowly faded into a neutral expression. "You should have taken the bait Ms. Brown."

"I won't let you have Will."

"He isn't who I want."

"Well you can't have Jack either."

They stared at each other, waiting for the other to say something. Beatrice narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. Beckett broke their eye contact with a sigh and stood. "Your loyalties are commendable, but stupid."

"I thought you said I was a smart woman?" She said tartly.

He glanced at her as he walked to his fireplace. "Apparently I was mistaken." He bent down to pick up a fire poker that was sticking out of the fireplace. "There are other ways to get you to talk." He said as he straightened, his eyes on the red hot end of the metal that was in the shape of a 'P'.

Pure panic filled Beatrice and her stomach clenched in fear as her eyes widened. She began to struggle against her chains as Beckett drew closer to her, her eyes not leaving the red 'P'. "No." She whispered. "I'm not a pirate!"

"The evidence is against you Ms. Brown. I can maybe reconsider if you give me the information I need..."

The red tip was getting dangerously close to her right arm and for a traitorous moment she thought about telling him. She could feel the heat on her forearm. She looked up at him pleadingly and the tears of panic began to form.

"Be smart Ms. Brown. You can save yourself."

Through her panic Will's face flashed before her eyes. She closed her eyes, her eyebrows furrowed in pain as she remembered the last look he gave her; the severe disappointment and and anger. She wondered if she was she willing to lose him forever to save herself. She'd never be able to keep this from him, she'd be too ashamed. If he even would survive once Beckett got through with him. Was it worth it? She had raised him. She called him her adoptive brother, but she took more care of him than her father. Clothed him, fed him, and taught him the way of the sword. He was the closest she'd ever get to having a child.

"Well?" Beckett asked calmly.

Beatrice's eyes snapped open at the expectancy in his voice. Like betraying the ones you loved was such an easy thing. Screw the pain and the consequences. She glared at him and spat at him. "Fuck you Beckett."

His hand clamped onto her arm and the white hot pain filled her right arm as he pressed the burning pointer to her skin. She threw her head back and screamed, her body jerking and twisting, but the chains kept her in place. Her fingers curled and uncurled, desperate to be rid of the pain. The smell of burning flesh reached her nose and she almost threw up. Her chest heaved and she continued to cry out as tears escaped her tightly closed eyes. Her screams became sobs as the burning metal began to cool over her severe burn. When satisfied Beckett peeled the metal from her at a savagely slow pace, some of the burnt skin peeling away with it. Beatrice cried out once more and her body slumped, her breath coming out in pants as she whimpered in relief that the worst of pain ended. There was only a second of that fleeting relief as a burning ache radiated around the spot on her forearm and her whole body felt hot. Her hand clenched and unclenched, but the pain stayed; she didn't think she'd be able to stomach looking at her brand. The air felt cold and scorching on her raw skin and she had a painful itch crawling up her arm, wishing she could submerge her arm in water.

Beckett watched her with no sympathy as he wiped the tip with a handkerchief and stuck the poker back in the fire. "I will find out where Turner and the rest went eventually, Ms. Brown, your cooperation would merely make things a little smoother."

Her eyes opened slowly, sweat and tears drenching her face. "I will never give him to you."

"We'll find him and his crew." He said as if reassuring her. He stood over her watching her silently, thinking. "Tell me Ms. Brown, have you heard of the Brethren Court?"

"The Pirate Council?" She asked numbly. Of course she had heard about them. Gibbs had told her about them all those years ago when he was still a sailor and she was still starry eyed and innocent. She thought of those times with sadness and a little bitterness. If only she could go back...

Beckett stepped toward her eagerly and she jumped in shot and panic. "What do you know?"

She stared at him. Her arm was screaming at her to treat it, but his reaction made her thoughts freeze. "Is that what you want to know about so badly?" She scoffed. "They're the pirate lords that decide how things are run for pirates all over the world. Created the Pirate Code."

He grabbed her shoulder tightly. "Do you know where they meet?"

She smiled sardonically. "Maybe you should have asked me that before you burned me."

His eyes were wild. His hand left her shoulder grabbed her forearm. She screamed in surprise and pain as the searing feeling raged over her. "Do you know?"

He removed his hand and she tried to compose herself, the recovering pain coming back full force. "No." She spat.

"Do not lie." He hissed.

"Even if I knew I wouldn't tell you."

Beckett stepped away from her, his body stiff. She could see his composure returning and his face returning to its previous neutral look. She couldn't tell what he was thinking. She would never know either. Before he could speak again there was a knock on the door. His eyes flickered to it and there was a brief flash of annoyance.

"Enter." He called.

Beatrice stared at the ceiling in relief. As long as someone else was there she was safe, for now. Then she felt a shiver of panic. What if it wasn't a blessing at the door, but someone as cruel as Beckett? She saw the cold smirk form on Beckett's lips as the door opened and she felt terrified.

"Ah, Admiral Norrington, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

After a pause James's voice flowed over her like a lovely melody. "Mercer requests your presence on deck Lord Beckett."

"Playing the messenger seems beneath your new position." Beckett said conversationally. She hated this man more than anyone at the moment.

"I was getting restless sir." James said truthfully. "Mercer just received a message he thought you'd find important."

Beckett nodded in understanding. "While you're here, Admiral, could you take this prisoner to the brig?"

"Of course sir."

Beatrice hissed as Beckett got near her, even if he was unhooking her from the chair. He pulled her up and she could hear the intake of breath that James had when he saw her. She looked up at him slowly, wondering what type of expression he was wearing. There was shock, sadness, longing, anger, and maybe disgust. She wondered who that was aimed toward. She could see him stop himself from taking a step forward. He looked at Beckett swiftly.

"What is she doing here?"

"Ah, so you know each other."

"Like you didn't already know that you little worm." She hissed. Now standing she noticed she was taller than Beckett. It gave her wounded pride a little pat.

"Beatrice." James said sharply and she bowed her head.

Beckett's hand was on the elbow her right arm. He tightened his grip and she winced. "This woman was picked up after confirming her as a pirate and traitor to the crown."

James's eyes trailed down her arm and widened. "You branded her?" He asked angrily.

Beatrice felt a trickle of pleasure fill her. James would save her. He could easily beat Beckett. They could find a way out together.

"It was necessary under the circumstances. She would not cooperate during my questioning or giving me information needed for her innocence. I found her guilty, though I am still pondering my next step." He pushed her forward and James caught her. He handled her much gentler than Beckett had. "Bring her to the brig while I go to the deck."

Beatrice stared up at James pleadingly, waiting for him to refuse or argue. But it seemed the only arguing he was doing was with himself. His expression changed quite a bit, but he didn't say anything. His eyebrows furrowed and his hand raised to Beatrice's arm, holding onto it as if she was going to run. Like he thought of her as a prisoner. "Yes sir." He said quietly and Beatrice's heart cracked as shock struck her, followed quickly by hurt. He didn't even try to question Beckett further. He wouldn't even look at her.

Beckett smiled and walked around them, calling back to James as he left. "Be quick about returning to the deck after you dispose of her." And then he was gone.

Beatrice and James stood in an awkward silence, neither knowing what to say. She felt him tug on her arm and he muttered a quiet "Let's go" before leading her out of the office. She let herself hope a tiny bit that he wouldn't really take her to the brig, but as he led her down the stairs to a room filled with cells and opened the cell door for her. She didn't look at him as he closed it. She felt numb, only the burning running over her right forearm letting her know this wasn't some horrible nightmare. She stood in the middle of the cell, waiting for him to leave, but she heard no retreating footsteps.

"I'm sorry, Beatrice." He said quietly. "There was nothing I could do."

Tears slowly trailed down her cheeks. She wasn't sure which pain had caused it, the one from her arm or her heart. "Just go." She didn't care that her voice cracked.

"Beatrice..."

She ignored him and sat in the corner with her back to him, cradling her arm like a wounded animal. There was nothing he could say and it felt like eternity before he left. As soon as the door to the brig closed she let herself cry fully. Part of her hadn't expected him to actually leave. She now knew how far his feelings for her went. Now she was alone in a cage, branded as a traitor. She had nothing left. No love. She could never go home. She couldn't find Will to apologize. She was never able to get anything right and now she was paying for it.