A/N: Thank you to Countcrescent, Isen-nordon-ss, Dunas Priest, raikota, Kitschy-fox, anonymous, Lady Elizabeth Beckett, and feltheart! Your feedback and continued interest gave me the encouragement to finish this chapter! I hope you enjoy it!
Soon after Beckett had discovered his niece's ingestion of mercury, a group of pirates approached the Beckett estate high on a hill above Southampton. Finding Hampton House to be abandoned upon their arrival, Pintel, Ragetti, Marty and Cotton were then directed to the admiral's house by inquiring upon a coach driver who happened to pass by. Realizing that taking the coach would be faster than traveling to the estate on foot, Pintel paid the coach driver and instructed him to bring them to the admiral's estate as quickly as possible. Though the men were poorly dressed, and with Pintel wearing an eye patch, the driver did not ask questions, for he was being paid regardless.
Upon their speedy arrival to the admiral's estate, Pintel, Ragetti, Marty, and Cotton jumped out of the coach and brazenly approached the front gate, where the guard stood with his bayonet-tipped musket.
"An' who are you?" the guard asked, brandishing his weapon at the group of men, who did not stop moving forward.
"I recommend yeh move, if yeh want ta call yourself a survivor," Pintel replied, showing off his yellowed teeth.
The guard stubbornly refused to move, though the pirates had taken several steps towards him.
"What business do you have with the admiral?" he asked the pirates, frowning disdainfully at the sad-looking group.
"We are here to kill Cutler Beckett," Pintel growled, drawing his finger across his throat. Cotton felt the sudden urge to roll his eyes. Now they'd never get in….
Unexpectedly for the pirates, the guard flashed them a wry smile.
"Really?" he asked, clearly intrigued. "An' why is that?"
"Because he stole—" Ragetti began, but was elbowed in the stomach by Pintel.
"Because he bloody well deserves it; tha's why!" Pintel replied with a toothy smirk.
"Fair enough," the guard replied, preparing to speak again. Pintel beamed at the man. At the unexpected Beckett-directed hostility of the guard, Cotton's jaw dropped, revealing to all his lack of a tongue.
"Obviously you despise him as well," Pintel offered. "Let us through, so we can take care of 'im."
The guard knew that the admiral wasn't present at home, so there'd be no threat to his life if these men were allowed entrance. However, there was his duty to keep the estate and the Morgan family safe…. As much as he hated Beckett for causing the death of his brother, he was an employee of one of the most powerful men in England.
"The most I can do for you is to retrieve him for you," the guard finally said, after a thoughtful pause. "You'll have to remain behind the gate, but I won't object to whatever you decide to do with Mr. Beckett after I bring him out. Do we have an accord?"
He refrained from holding out a hand to the filth-covered men, but gave the group an easy smile.
"Aye," Pintel replied, "but we expect yeh back quickly, or we'll come in there ourselves to finish 'im off."
"Will!" Elizabeth cried, continuing to back up towards the stern of the Flying Dutchman. Will Turner was standing closer to the bow but he turned his head to look at her upon hearing her panicked voice. "Why aren't you firing at them?" she cried. All around her the craggy gunwale was being shattered by musket balls and now she could hear the clanking of heavy metal objects and squeaking wheels on the dock below. "I fear cannonade is next!" she exclaimed, her face quickly losing colour.
The familiar protectiveness Will felt about Elizabeth had returned with his immediate redirection of attention towards her, and yet, the vile things he had just heard from her own mouth made him swallow his fear for her safety. He faced forward again in the direction of the firing weapons below.
"I don't care," Will huffed, crossing his arms. "What can they do to me now? Everything I had is gone."
"What about everyone else on the ship? What about your son?"
Will Turned completely around, squaring off with the diminutive woman, her mouth twisted into a scowl.
"He's safe on land—at least that's what you told me," Will replied. "Or did you lie about that as well?"
Her face darkened at his accusatory tone, and she stepped towards him with renewed vigor.
"Do you wish for your son to be without a father and a mother?" she raged. "If you don't command your ship to fire, I will!"
"The Dutchman sails as its captain commands," Will snapped back in a phrase eerily reminiscent of Davy Jones. "You have no power over me here."
Suddenly a musket ball struck Will in the back and continued traveling through his chest, a slight flinch his only reaction. The musket ball barely missed Elizabeth, becoming lodged in the mast behind her as it exited her husband's body.
"Will, you have to do something!" Elizabeth demanded. "By not firing, you are putting all our lives at risk."
"Do not refer to my existence as life," he spat bitterly. "It is an existence worth than death. And in regards to not firing back at the enemy, isn't that what your Beckett also did? And yet, that didn't stop you from defiling yourself with—"
Suddenly the palm of her hand made contact with his face, and she was almost sickened by the chitinous roughness of Will's still mostly-human face. As she pulled her hand back, he grabbed her arm roughly, the suckers of his starfish hands suctioning to her skin.
"You have betrayed me, Elizabeth," he raged. "The worst part of your betrayal is not only your lack of remorse, but also your willingness to do it again. You are without a conscience and you care for nobody but yourself."
"How dare you?" she spat, yanking her arm away. "If you had any feelings for me at all, you would understand not to sentence us both to death save for one day every ten bloody years! Do you not remember, Will? We have grown up together and you, more than anyone else, know my feelings on freedom, on adventure, on the things that bring me joy! And yet you choose to steal these sources of my happiness by guilting me into giving them up as they dangle before me for my entire life, save five or six days!"
The scowl on his face grew but he said nothing. Elizabeth was not finished explaining herself.
"Why couldn't you be happy knowing that I would be there for you when you return every ten years? I would have been… and I still will be if you ask it. Your servitude to the Dutchman destroyed my life as well; don't you realize that? And yet, you had the chance to make this tragedy easier on me and you chose not to!"
As she finished her tirade, she noticed that Will no longer appeared to be enraged. In fact, he now looked almost thoughtful.
"Do you have nothing to say to me?" Elizabeth raged.
"I can see perfectly now," Will muttered, almost to himself. He blinked several times, his eyes more human-looking than they'd been in months. "I'm no longer blind."
"What are you talking about?" Elizabeth said, her voice almost a whisper. "You were… blind?"
"I was blind since the moment I first laid eyes on you," he explained. "Blinded by my love for you. But now I see you for who you really are, Elizabeth."
"I have never acted unlike myself," she asserted. "You chose to see what you wanted to see."
"Yes, I did," he replied. "And now the cloudiness over my eyes has dissipated." He looked away from Elizabeth, his voice trailing off. "All that Joana said was true…."
Elizabeth cocked her head, a look of irritation and confusion on her face. Had Joana made disparaging remarks about her? How dare her!
"What did she say about me?" Elizabeth muttered, gritting her teeth in an attempt to hide her anger. She crossed her arms, staring at Will as his antenna moustache stopped quivering. "I've never done anything wrong to her!"
"It matters not what she said, but why she said it," he answered, his eyes not focused on Elizabeth but somewhere off in the distance. Something suddenly occurred to him, and Will strode away from Elizabeth without another word towards Bootstrap, who was standing on the deck several paces behind the barrage of musket balls assaulting the ship.
"Where's Joana?" Will asked his father.
"She left the ship not long ago to see where a group of Royal Navy were headed," Bootstrap replied. "Why aren't you firing on 'em, Will? You've got living beings on the ship!"
"Why didn't someone else go? She could die!" Will blurted, his eyes full of fear.
"I wasn't on deck when the group of Royal Navy left, but if I had, I would've gone instead," Bootstrap explained. "Do you want me to go look for her?"
"You said she left not long ago," Will replied. "Is she nowhere on the dock?"
Will strode to the bow of the ship, taking heavy fire to his indestructible body as he scanned the dock and the town beyond that for any sign of Joana's curly auburn hair. He hadn't checked the larboard side of the ship where she had descended and still remained, surrounded by Royal Navy men, who upon taking notice of her, had mysteriously and abruptly died. Elizabeth could only stare in confusion and hurt as Will stood motionlessly while musket balls and cannon balls sailed through his frame, the sting of rejection wholly unfamiliar to her.
"Julia," Beckett murmured as his sister lowered her arms after their first embrace in years. He still felt full of shame, and remembered the note in his pocket. "Did you ever read the letter that Father left for me?"
It was a stupid question. If she had read it, she would have probably kicked him out of Hampton House at first sight of him.
"Of course not," she answered quickly. "You saw the seal. What does that have to do with—"
"Everything," he muttered. Suddenly he looked down and began fishing in his pocket. He pulled the letter out and unfolded it.
"This morning I took the liberty of destroying the copy of this letter that was held by the High Court," he explained. "If I were a humble, selfless man I would have destroyed this letter without showing you, but then again, my good deeds are few and far between and so I must give each of them the attention it deserves." He held out the letter to his sister, who looked baffled. "Only after you have read it will I destroy it," he added.
Julia Morgan took the letter from her brother and began reading it.
Dear Cutler,
By the time you read this I will have been long-dead. I pray that you have not become allied with the enemy of the Crown, as rumour has long been circulating. I have sent a copy of this letter to the High Court, so that upon your redemption, you must present this letter to the High Court to have the will stated herein to be put into effect. You must read this letter in confidence, in the absence of Thomas Morgan, in particular.
My son, you are the last remaining Beckett heir to retain the family name. If you are to marry and produce a male heir, than I shall bequeath unto you the estate. Until you present this letter to the High Courts with a marriage certificate and a male heir, Julia and Thomas Morgan hold control of the estate.
I do not trust Thomas Morgan with the affairs of the family estate. Although your name has been viciously disparaged, I believe you to be loyal to the Crown, just as you have been throughout your life. However, I cannot say the same for Thomas Morgan.
If you have accomplished the tasks mentioned in this will, then you hold the key to the estate in your hands. I pray that if you acquire the estate, that you will bestow upon your sister a portion, to retain a good relationship with her and her family. I do not wish that my only children would harbour ill will towards the other over the nature of inheritance.
I will miss you when I am gone, Cutler. You have made me proud in your many accomplishments. I hope that you are able to clear the family name of the poison that has befallen it. I only wish you much happiness and prosperity for your future, and I hope that you will return home before it is too late….
Yours truly,
Father (George Beckett II)
Beckett watched Julia's light eyes as she scanned her father's words telling his son of his guaranteed inheritance of Hampton House should he produce a male heir. Several times she seemed to frown, and once she'd finished reading the letter, she looked up at Beckett, her eyes half fearful and half suspicious.
"Why are you looking at me that way, Julia?" Cutler asked. "I have already told you; Hampton House is yours." He took the letter from her, but before she could protest or say a word, he tore the letter in half. To his dismay, she did not look relieved or happy; rather, she appeared to be troubled. This was what not what he'd predicted would happen.
"Why didn't Father tell me of his suspicions of Thomas?" she thought aloud. "I trusted Father's judgment and I would have listened had he informed me of his qualms."
"I don't know, Julia," Cutler answered her, feeling rather helpless at the moment. His ears hearkened to the sound of what appeared to be approaching hoofbeats. "But you see now that Hampton House is yours and there is no one that can take it from you," he told her.
Finally Julia snapped out of her troubled state at hearing his insistent tone. She took several steps forward and threw her arms around her brother, pulling him into another embrace. "Thank you," she said, breathing onto his neck. "I know how difficult that must have been for you. Thank you, Cutler."
"Thank you for giving me a place to stay and for making me feel welcome," he muttered back. "I do believe you are the only one on this entire earth that would not shoot me on sight."
"I wouldn't shoot you, Uncle Cutler!" Kitty exclaimed, eyes wide and earnest. Beckett broke the hug to go to his niece, and patted her warmly on the head.
"Thank you, Kitty," he murmured to her with a hint of a smile. Julia beamed at the sweet exchange between her normally cold-as-ice brother and her precious daughter who had been saved from the brink of death. Sadly, the scene was short-lived. Beckett moved away from his niece and turned back to Julia.
"As much as I would prefer to spend more time with you and your children, Julia," he said, his eyes briefly shooting to the open door behind them and the dusty horizon, "I must be go—"
"Pardon me, Mr. Beckett," the doctor interrupted, "but you're not going anywhere with that heart."
Beckett blinked indignantly several times, irritated that he'd been interrupted by this peon. How dare this man tell him what he could or couldn't do! Julia looked at her brother with a kind of sympathy. Cutler's life certainly hadn't been easy this last year or so. And he had not only saved her daughter's life but had ensured her a place to stay once her husband was arrested.
"Doctor," Julia cut in, "is Kitty out of danger? Will my daughter be alright?"
Caught off-guard by the woman's fearful voice, the doctor turned towards her, smiling comfortingly.
"Yes, Mrs. Morgan, your daughter is no longer in danger. You are free to go, but do give Kitty another glass of milk before her bedtime." Beckett saw his sister momentarily wink at him and knew why she had asked the question of the doctor, who continued to speak. "Otherwise, Mrs. Morgan, you can—"
Cutler suddenly sprinted for the door, unable to even look back at his sister and niece.
"Goodbye, Julia!" he yelled as he ran, feeling a strange twinge of pain in his chest at the thought of leaving them so abruptly. But it was something he must do, if he would ever make it back to Elizabeth. "Goodbye, Kitty!" he called out. "Take care!"
Beckett's recent acquisition of athleticism gave the doctor no chance to give chase, and all that was left of his presence were the ripped up shards of George Beckett's letter and a lingering cloud of dust over his hasty footfalls.
A group of Royal Navy stood near Captain Barbossa and Joshamee Gibbs, pondering the old pirate's claim.
"Jack Sparrow's on the Pearl," a Royal Navy officer on the dock informed his fellow sailors, ignoring the nearby presence of the two pirates. "He's got a musket but his fellow pirate believes him to be alone on the ship."
"What?" a sailor blurted. "Shouldn't we help Admiral Morgan fight against the Dutchman?"
"We'd be helping him just as much capturing Sparrow. He wanted Sparrow. Besides, it seems like we may be besting the Dutchman."
"Seems silly to me—if the Dutchman were to fire her guns, there'd be no dock left," another chimed in. "It's a good reason to avoid her for the time being and focus on capturing a person we outnumber."
"It does appear as if the Dutchman's out of ammunition."
"Sparrow then?" one of the men asked the group.
Barbossa grinned as he eavesdropped on the conversation. Joshamee Gibbs was less willing to listen to the impending attack on his friend by the Royal Navy, who could easily storm the ship as they'd done in Constantinople. If Jack was indeed alone, there'd be no way for him to disembark. He'd be a sitting duck.
"Let's get 'im," the Royal Navy men agreed. They began blatantly traipsing towards the Black Pearl, not bothering to hide the fact that they were headed straight for it. Finally, Barbossa could stand it no longer.
"Did ye not hear tha man?" he called out. "Sparrow's got a musket, and he'll blow ye all to smithereens the way yer proceedin' to go!"
Beckett pulled out the piece of paper from his pocket and smiled to himself, both at his own craftiness in retaining the High Court's copy of his father's letter and at the fact that no one was chasing him. He'd gotten away rather easily and could now stride right through the Royal Navy men gathered at the harbor as an exonerated man. He'd either be on a ship or pleading with Elizabeth in some undisclosed location by the time the admiral knew of his treachery. By that point, the admiral himself would most likely be under arrest for his crime.
As Beckett ran towards a steep cobblestone alley leading towards the harbour, he folded the letter neatly and thought to himself of the possible outcomes today, if he should find Elizabeth. Once the letter was safely stowed in his pocket, he patted the outside of the garment that held the precious piece of paper.
I must say, you worked rather well with my sister, and she had years of hatred built up against me compared to Elizabeth. Of course, Elizabeth is as stubborn as a mule, but this may soften her resolve….
He touched the heart that was now hidden by his coat and tucked firmly under an arm. It beat at irregular intervals, suffering silently as Beckett's legs carried him towards his destination.
And this should take care of the rest….
Please leave me some feedback! I'm sorry there wasn't much Beckett in this chapter!