Beckett's stature - or lack thereof - made him lack much formidability when it came to overpowering him, but by God did he fight James every step of the way. So much so that he was too busy avoiding clawing hands and the wielding of the pistol as though it were a club to check to see if Beckett had managed to meet his mark.
"It…it was the pirates," he was babbling - preparing a story readily as if James hadn't witnessed the truth of what had happened with his own two eyes "They shot him, then both fleets had little choice but to decimate them. The captains - the captains can be paid off. Briefed on the story. Those who refuse…they…they died in the skirmish…"
He wasn't speaking to him, that much was clear. Even one so deluded as Beckett could not think that James would go along with this. A sharp twist of his wrist had the gun clattering down to the deck, and so offered James his first chance to actually look up at Byam - at which time he didn't need to take stock of his injuries to know he was well, for if he was still standing all that time later, he would surely survive. His men had converged around him, weapons drawn and aimed at Beckett where James held him in place.
A few around the deck of the Endeavour had drawn their own weapons, although they seemed torn as to where they should be pointing them, hesitating as they looked between Beckett and Byam.
"Men, stand down," James barked.
Most listened. Those who did not eventually relented when Groves repeated the order. With Beckett disarmed and his men lowering their weapons, Byam's own men calmed themselves, stepping aside as the Governor rounded on them. He pressed a hand flat against his upper arm - the bullet had torn through his coat and the shirt beneath was crimson stained. If it had gone in at all rather than merely grazing him, it still was not serious.
"Have you lost your mind, sir?" Byam was snarling "I see now that all we've heard today must be true!"
Bending at the knee, Groves retrieved the abandoned pistol and James finally released his hold on Beckett - somewhat surprised when the man scarcely stumbled, staring almost vacantly at Byam as he raged, his wig askew. The fight was lost, there was nothing left for him to do, but surrender was not a thing in his nature. So he did nothing. Were it anybody else, James may have begrudgingly admired it. But it was not anybody else, and he could muster nothing but hatred for the man before him.
Already he could hear men on the ships nearby - those from Beckett's own fleet - belting out orders to make ready for departure, likely having witnessed what had just taken place through their scopes. The tide had turned against Beckett, and such was the weakness of the sort of loyalty that he inspired that no men were willing to be drowned by that tide if they were mistaken for still supporting his cause.
Across the water, the pirates had noticed that Beckett's fleet was slowly beginning to part, their cries of triumph carrying over well enough. Despite it, worry coiled in James' chest. If he was able to hear the celebrations, no doubt they'd have been able to hear the gunfire. Theodora would be worrying herself ill. Realising he would get no argument from Beckett, Byam's lips stretched into a sneer as he began issuing his own orders.
"Seize him. He'll be tried in Antigua."
And that was when James saw his opportunity. Rushing forward, he caught up to Byam before his boots could even touch the gangplank that would take him to his own ship.
"Governor - Governor Byam, sir, a moment if you please," he called after him.
Byam stopped, turning and raising his eyebrows at him. Nodding his thanks, James spoke in quiet but insistent tones - one which nobody but Byam himself would be able to hear.
"Forgive me if I overstep, but he should be tried in Port Royal, sir. It would close this chapter for the island, and allow them - us - all to right the wrongs Beckett perpetrated in our name. It…it would make for a neat ending."
Somewhere behind him, Groves caught up to them as Byam's men saw to shackling Beckett. Still he offered no protest, nor argument, mumbling half-heartedly to himself as to how he might play this - of bribes and falsehoods and machinations.
Byam looked like he may not agree at first, but when James' gaze did not waver, he sighed and cursed beneath his breath, waving a bloodied hand.
"Fine. Whatever you wish. But see to it that this is resolved. If I hear in the coming months that he was simply shipped back to London and all the friends that await him there, I'll lay that blame at your feet, Admiral."
James inclined his head in thanks, and then Byam was gone. When he turned to Groves, he found him watching him expectantly. His Admiralty was not something he had any intention of keeping hold of, but for now it would serve him well, so he sighed under its familiar weight and then spoke.
"Wait until the fleet has dispersed, and I have returned to the Pearl, and then deposit him into a dinghy. Row him to land yourself, and only yourself. Governor Byam will retrieve him from the nearest shore readily. Make sure the men hear that - as many as possible, as loudly as possible."
"...What?" Groves blinked "But you just said…you just told the Governor that we ourselves will…"
The cogs visibly turned behind the Lieutenant's eyes, and when he realised what James was doing, it spread across his features and he frowned at him very seriously.
"You cannot…sir, I understand the temptation - truly, I do, but this is not the way."
"Do you? Do you really, Groves? Very well," James made a false show of musing over his point, eyebrows raised "In that case you may accompany me back to the Pearl, where you may inform Theodora of that decision, if the toll of the torture Beckett subjected her to, and the cauterization which I was forced to perform myself thereafter, has not yet rendered her unconscious. You may be the one to inform her that we'll return him to Port Royal, after which one of his friends in some high place or another will no doubt write and secure him safe passage out of the Caribbean and back to England - from where he will regroup, and then likely return. Worse than ever, and bent on revenge."
It didn't much matter to him if Groves was convinced or not. He considered the man a friend, but it mattered not. One way or another, James would see Beckett dead on that day - Groves' cooperation just dictated how messy that might get before said day was through. Which was why he stifled a sigh of relief when Groves pressed his lips into a thin line and then finally nodded.
"I suppose if we don't…we'll only wish we had," he said finally, before adding with no small amount of tired sincerity "And nobody can say he does not deserve whatever lies in store for him. The ship is yours, Admiral."
"Put him in the brig - place men that can be trusted by the cell door. I want him supervised at all times, and then brought ashore come nightfall. If any ask, we wish to do things quietly to keep revenge-driven pirates and Beckett's allies both from interfering."
"Yes sir."
By the end of the day this would all be over, and he could see about rebuilding his life.
"Groves," he said as the Lieutenant made to turn away "I shan't be Admiral much longer. Best prepare yourself for a sharp rise in station."
Being one of the few men who, while perhaps under Beckett's orders was still not in Beckett's pocket meant Governor Swann would doubtlessly wish to reward that loyalty and moral fortitude. Perhaps Groves himself did not see how obvious that was, though, for he breathed a laugh.
"That's absurd - I, er, forgive me sir, but…" he trailed off when he earned a deadpan look from James, sighing and dropping the formality "Nobody will ever argue that you left for the wrong reasons. Not now that you're the hero of the day. You haven't even lost your title to worry about not having it reinstated."
"Perhaps not, but I intend to give it up when the time is right. Soon. I'll make sure to emphasise your name for consideration as to the gap that should be filled when I take my leave."
"I…don't know what to say. Other than thank you."
"What else is there to say? Whom else would I recommend? Gillette?"
Groves snorted "No. Never him, that much is obvious."
"See?" James replied drily "You've already all the common sense you need for the role."
Despite his sarcasm, though, and even despite his anger which still bubbled beneath the surface, eagerly anticipating the moment in which it might be exercised, James found himself feeling the beginnings of something he never would have anticipated when he'd woken from his alcohol-induced stupor that moment. Happiness. For now he could finally look forward to the future.
Once she'd been changed into dry clothing, they spread the dry blanket across the damp bed and Elizabeth left Theo to rest, pressing a flask of rum and some cured meat into her hands, and promising that she'd retrieve her when the wedding was set to go ahead. She forced down the food because she knew she needed it, and washed it down with the rum, because she really bloody well needed that. Finally, she lay back, closed her eyes, and pretended she was resting rather than doing her utmost to summon some sort of Matilda-esque powers to locate James across the water and ensure he was well. Alas, her now-lost knowledge of the future had not been replaced by other telepathic sorts of abilities.
It appeared that, content for the time being that another battle wasn't seconds away, Barbossa had joined them on the Pearl. She could hear him and Jack talking just feet away from the cabin.
"So, you're a man - er, pirate…pirate man of employment now, eh? Duty? Can't say I ever took you for the type," Jack was happy enough to needle the Dutchman's new captain "But I'm happy for you mate, truly. And not just because you'll not be trying to snatch my ship from me now. Mostly because of that, but there are other things. Your hat, for example. A grand accoutrement, it is. Always suited somebody of a higher station than your last, ship-less one."
"Gloat all ye like, Jack, but I now captain the only vessel in these waters that be a match for the Pearl herself," Barbossa drawled, unbothered by the mockery.
That was probably just thanks to the sheer amount of time he'd spent with Jack, though. One day she'd sit down and draw out a graph of how annoying Jack Sparrow was in comparison to time spent with him. It would be full of peaks and valleys. James would prove an exception to the rule.
"In gun power, perhaps, but not in speed - and you can't shoot what you can't catch. Or are you forgetting the reason we needed her back from the locker in the first place?"
"Give me a year at the helm and I'll add a few knots to the Dutchman's capabilities yet. Jones kept 'er poorly maintained to be sure, but I'll have that remedied. It'll do me some sadness to see the Pearl reduced to second best, that much be true, but the knowledge that I'd see to that while you captain her would be a balm."
"Good luck doing that while you attend to your new career, mate," Jack jabbed cheerfully.
"Duty never scared me so much as it did you," Barbossa replied lazily "If you'll recall, that was why the crew were so quick to turn on you at my behest way back when."
"I see your point," Jack sniffed "I s'pose you're more suited to the drudgery of duty than a free spirit like meself would be. No, it's the immortality that makes you all shifty, innit? Feels a bit too familiar? After a few lifetimes, that cavalier sense of duty you tote about - along with the feather on that hat - might grow burdensome."
"Mayhaps," Barbossa allowed, still not rising to the needling "But it'd be a small thing to trick some fool into stabbing the heart when I find myself bored of the ordeal. At least, if such a day does come, my death will be on my own terms…and long, long after your own. Now there be a thought that does warm my heart."
"From its place inside that very cosy chest?"
Barbossa scoffed "Unless, of course, you're interested in making another deal. You'll find me just as fair as Jones, only with a shade more humour."
"I've grown tired of deals," Jack replied happily "Learned me lesson."
Who would've thought they'd see a day where Jack would learn from his actions? Theo almost smiled fondly. Until he continued.
"...For now. Check back in a couple of years. Maybe ten. See how things play out, eh? Keep in touch, don't be a stranger, think up something truly tempting."
Yeah. That sounded about right. Somehow it had her smiling even more fondly still. Or maybe that was just the rum. Whatever the case was, it didn't matter much in the end - not when she heard the faint crack of a single shot ringing out all the way across the water.
Theo was up before she could think better of it - and clinging to the doorway for support after no more than two steps. Others were already making for the rail of the ship to try and work out what was going on, but the journey there would be a long one with little for her to grab on to for support between here and there. Jack, Barbossa, and Elizabeth were already there, some practically leaning overboard to try and work out what was going on, and others standing on the rail itself.
Pausing and trying to steel herself, she took in a deep breath and was about to move when a voice spoke at her side.
"Come, I'll help you," Will was at her side, already leaning to lodge his shoulder beneath her arm before she'd even comprehended who was talking to her.
Thank Christ he knew better than to try and insist she should lie back down.
"What can you see?" she demanded of Jack the second Will had shouldered them a path to the front of the crowd.
"Not much," he replied gruffly "They're too far away, and they've got every man aboard up on deck. Can't get a clear look at anythin'."
"Jack."
"Oh, well done, Dora, you've unlocked the trick that makes me scope more powerful if you say my name - if only I'd thought of that."
She liked that a whole lot better than the frowns of sympathy and the wary enquiries as to her wellbeing.
"It was only a single shot - Norrington's a soldier, it would take more than that to kill him," Will said at her side.
Theo said nothing. As much as she wanted to believe James was some sort of super human, one shot was enough to kill anybody. Barbossa grunted as if to echo that point. After all, it had done so with him at the end of her first adventure here.
"It could have been a warning shot," Elizabeth added "It was only the one."
It was a possibility that did make sense, even if her fears tried to insist that it didn't.
"If one side had fired, the other would start immediately after," Theo nodded slowly "We'd have heard more, if anything really bad had happened."
The seconds that ticked by after that well and truly dragged, all of them staring furiously at Beckett's fleet - almost scared to blink in case they missed something. Theo's arm started to slowly go numb thanks to the angle it was forced into as Will diligently kept her upright. None of them commented when the ships first appeared to begin moving, half-worried it was a trick of the eye or, worse still, that they were moving towards them. But one ship slowly peeled away from the fleet, then another, then another after that, all of them making for the horizon.
"They're retreating," Elizabeth breathed, and then repeated it again - louder "They're retreating!"
Marty was the first to repeat it, followed by another on the next ship over, until the announcement was overtaken by cheers. If Will hadn't been holding her up, Theo would have slumped in relief down to the deck, even if she worried that the relief wasn't premature. James was not yet back, but she at least dared to hope that he would be now.
They remained watching the Endeavour as the crew broke out into celebrations until it became clear that a skiff was being readied to depart from it. Jack's eyes narrowed as he peered at it through his scope - Theo resisting the urge to try and snatch it from his hands every step of the way - and then he finally lowered it and offered her a smirk.
"Your bore of a husband's on 'is way back, love."
She wasn't going to cry. She would not cry. It was over - well and truly over - and she would not spend the aftermath of that fact in tears.
Jack jumped down from the rail, smirking at the distinctly watery gleam of her eyes.
"I believe I have a wedding to ready myself for," Will said, the awkwardness he felt showing through on his face as he slid his shoulder from under her arm - but only once he appeared satisfied that the rail was enough to keep her upright.
"Don't you have to prepare for that, too?" she asked him.
"I don't need half so much primping as to look my best," he sniffed, and then regarded her for a moment "You know, if you're that disappointed about his return we could always run off together. Give it a go."
Theo gave a watery laugh, caught somewhere between elation and tears. Although the tears were happy ones, so she wasn't really too torn as far as her emotions were concerned.
"Not a chance, Jack."
He grinned "Seemed worth checkin'. Here."
Digging a hand into the pocket of his coat, he produced a small cloth pouch.
"What is it?"
"While you were back there putting your feet up, I had one of the men bring me whatever Tia Dal- er, Calyp-...well, whatever she left behind. Thought this looked familiar."
Opening the pouch was a trial, clasping it carefully between ruined fingers while her left hand - her non-dominant hand - picked clumsily at the ties keeping them closed. What she saw inside didn't surprise her, but it still had her heart rate picking up dangerously quickly. The mushrooms. The ones which, she now knew, mightn't only allow her to see Queen Achtland, but somebody much more familiar. Somebody she had not seen in far longer. Too long.
"Thank you, Jack. Seriously. Thank you. You can't know how much this means."
The skiff, as they'd watched it, had made quick progress and had pulled around to the other side of the ship. It appeared James didn't even wait for it to be hoisted up, instead choosing to scale the side of the Pearl until he was stepping back onto the deck - which offered Jack the perfect moment to escape the discomfort of things like weepy women and the discussion of emotions. Pulling the drawstrings of the pouch back tightly together with her teeth, she shoved it into the pocket of her breeches and then turned to James, lamenting the fact that she was in no fit state to go to him and instead had to exercise a thing as tedious as patience.
His eyes met hers when he was mere feet away, all but gleaming in the swiftly brightening light of day, and she could see the levity there - knowing immediately for certain that all was well and truly done.
"Where's Hattie?"
"Aboard the Endeavour. It's not going anywhere, worry not, but you should be resti…" he trailed off with a contented sigh when he drew close enough for her to step towards him, curling his arms around her.
She had to grit her teeth against the pain of the stretch that it took to lift her arms and wrap them about his shoulders, but her weight was eased from her feet as he drew her up more closely to him, burying his face in her hair as she nuzzled her own into his chest.
"It's done?" she murmured when she looked up, eyes meeting his "It's really done? It's over?"
"There's a loose end or two left to resolve," he said slowly, and then his face split into a brilliant smile - one that shone all the brighter for the weariness it replaced "But yes, my darling, it's done. We're safe. Finally - finally, we are safe, Theodora. It is over."
Oh, how she'd dreamt of those words. Pined for them. Prayed for them, even, to whoever might've been listening - although Achtland didn't seem inclined to heed prayers. All without daring to hope. And now? Hearing them was like…it was like…well, she'd never been a drug addict, but she imagined that the relief coursing through her here and now must've been on par with taking a hit after battling with withdrawals. The pain that had seemed so all-consuming and inhibiting barely a full minute earlier barely touched her now as something in her chest soared and she wasn't sure if she was sobbing or laughing. Tears were involved either way, and yet she smiled - so hard that her face ached, too.
James seemed much in the same position, their close proximity allowing her to feel how his breath shook with each intake and exhale, but the grin on his face had him looking younger and more carefree than he had in months. It was certainly an expression seldom seen when Beckett haunted their every step.
The smile barely faltered when he ducked his head down to kiss her, uncaring of whatever audience they may have. His grip on her tightened as though to pull her even more tightly to him still, but he remembered her injuries at the last moment (to her relief and disappointment both), and settled instead for bringing one hand up from her waist to smooth up her neck, across her jaw, up to her cheekbone, and into her hair. Theo kissed him back deeply, tempted to fear that she'd open her eyes and none of this would have been real.
"Oi! We've a bride and groom here that you're very rudely trying to overshadow. Chop chop!" Jack called over.
Nah, it definitely had to be real. Even she wasn't such a masochist that she'd imagine Jack being a nuisance here and now. It spoke worlds about how happy James was that he hardly reacted at all - except to pause and frown.
"Bride and groom?" he questioned, practically speaking the words into her face for how much he refused to pull back.
"Jack's going to marry Will and Elizabeth," she said, tucking a long dark lock of hair behind his ear from where it had wriggled free of its ribbon "Here. Now. I told Elizabeth I'd attend. We made peace while you were gone."
"I'm not sure how I feel about their imitating us," he teased quietly.
"Technically I got the idea from them, so we'll have to let them off."
"Mm. Very well. But we shouldn't tell them that - lest they get too comfortable," he replied "And then after, you must rest."
"What about those loose ends?"
"We've plenty of time - we must wait 'til after dark to attend to them."
The wedding was unconventional, just like anything that involved Jack, but Theo smiled all the way through it from where she sat on her barrel. James stood behind her so that she could lean back on him, one hand dropped down in order to clasp hers, and the rest of the "guests" - Bootstrap, Governor Swann, Gibbs, Barbossa, and even Pintel and Ragetti, stood too. Pintel and Ragetti put on much more of a show of pretending now to well up than Governor Swann did….and when it was done and the couple kissed, it was Swann's very civilised applause that was drowned out by the hoots and hollers of the pirates present - even those who hadn't properly attended.
After it all, Theo departed with a tired smile to the couple and allowed James to finally ferry her below deck in search of a dry-ish cabin. The moment she was finally lying down on a bed, knowing it was actually safe to close her eyes and battle wouldn't break out in the next blink, she finally realised how well and truly exhausted she was. Her husband seemed to be coming to a similar conclusion, shrugging off his coat and eyeing the space on the bed beside her.
"I could take the chair," he said "Or the floor - I've no wish to jostle you."
It took all of her willpower to bite back a dirty joke in response to that - and she only really did so because she was horrified by his suggestion.
"Don't be daft, there's loads of room. And I've been more than bloody jostled so far today - I'm sure I can survive having you next to me."
He smiled softly, lowering himself with a tired sigh down onto the bed.
"Good," he replied "Because it looks like you've many years of that ahead of you."
And that sounded absolutely perfect.
Theo slipped into something that strongly resembled a coma mere minutes after she closed her eyes, and when she next opened her eyes the sun outside was a vivid, bloody red and she was caked in a layer of sweat that only an hours-long nap was capable of bringing on. Or maybe the torture had something to do with it. James was nowhere to be seen.
"Fuck," she rasped, blinking herself out of a woozy haze.
Oh, how she missed the days of keeping a great big metal Camelbak water bottle by her bed that she could just chug from first thing. Fuck her iPod, if there was one object she could have brought to her from her own time, it would've been that. Then she moved, and she decided paracetamol would be a close second, if only to ease the steady burning, itchy throb that radiated from her abdomen as it did what it could to heal.
The door to the cabin opened as she slowly dragged herself up to lean on her elbows, James stepping inside toting a large flask and two wooden bowls of food.
"I was just coming to wake you - you slept all day," he said.
"Think I could've slept all week," she admitted.
"And I would have encouraged it, were I not sure you'd lament missing what it soon to take place," he replied.
Approaching the bed, he crouched before her and held a flask of water to her lips. She didn't need help to drink from it, but she suspected he needed to help her do it, so she didn't complain. Thankfully, he allowed her to eat on her own - freshly caught fish, at that, as if it wasn't obvious that they were living large to celebrate. As they ate, he caught her up as to what had happened aboard the Endeavour. There were several times where she had to pause eating to laugh at just how successfully he'd fucked over Beckett, and his pride over it was obvious because he didn't even play it cool, grinning and chuckling along with her delight.
"What's soon taking place, then?" she finally asked when she was done "A party? A second serving of dinner?"
"No, you slept through much of the celebrations," he snorted "And it's something much more satisfying than fish- ."
"It was very good fish."
The joke that would've ordinarily earned her a begrudging huff or a fond eye roll got her a smile now "I see you're feeling better. Are you up to moving?"
"If you don't mind helping me a bit."
"Always," he said seriously - like he was offended that she'd even question it.
"Where are we going? To the Endeavour?"
James didn't get a chance to answer that question - because Barbossa booted the door open and regarded them impatiently.
"Enough dilly-dallying - if this be my last day ashore in some time, I plan on putting it to good use," he snapped.
"Aye aye, Captain," Theo muttered, earning an eye-roll for her troubles.
She supposed she was just lucky he didn't resent her more for whatever hand her existence had in his new changed station. All the same, her curiosity was piqued - and it remained that way when they stepped up onto the rapidly darkening deck. The dinghy they would use, thankfully, had been levered up over the water, suspended in mid-air - so she wouldn't need to climb down the side of the ship. Adding to the intrigue, Will, Elizabeth (who both looked distinctly ruffled, clearly having not spent the day resting), Jack, and Barbossa were all already climbing in. They had a group outing on their hands. After piecing that together, it really didn't take Theo much longer to realise what - or who - they were about to deal with.
If their present company and the cover of nightfall hadn't cemented her suspicion, the grim set James' jaw adopted as Will and Elizabeth rowed them ashore would have done so quickly enough. With the moon scarcely a crescent in the sky and their undoubtedly deliberate lack of lights, it took a moment for her to spot the figures on the beach - one markedly shorter than the other. Beckett, yes, and…was that Groves? Her confusion vanished almost as quickly as it arrived, because of course it was Groves. He would be the only man James would trust for something such as this. She didn't have to know what exactly was going on to get the gist of the situation.
Meeting Beckett with a group of pirate lords under the cover of darkness wasn't a situation that left a whole lot of room for interpretation.
Had this little meeting been earlier in the day, she probably would've felt a bit more wobbly about the whole thing. As it was, her excessive napping had allowed her to rediscover her equally excessive anger (although it probably couldn't still be considered excessive if it was the product of Actual Torture, so there was that), and any shakiness she felt was because of that rather than nerves. But she still appreciated how James placed himself between her and Beckett, blocking his line of sight as he helped her to her feet and then out of the boat, hiding any unsteadiness from his view.
Beckett had been divested of his wig, his short dark hair in disarray. It was the first time Theo had seen him without it, and she hadn't expected the effect to be as jarring as it was, having grown so used to being around men who wore them now. Despite that, and despite the manacles clamped around his wrists, he regarded them all coolly - his voice barely wavering as he spoke as though they'd all just stormed into his office in the middle of any other day.
"What's the meaning of this?"
James looked to Groves, who glanced down for barely a second, then up again - at her, this time, his brow furrowing - before he finally sighed and spoke.
"There was some confusion as to who was taking custody of Lord Beckett. Those aboard the Endeavour thought he was to be delivered to Byam, and Byam thought Port Royal wished to deal with him personally. An unfortunate miscommunication amid all of the confusion, you see. It was decided we should bring him to the nearest settlement until it was all ironed out - it would be unsafe to cart him about the seas, what with the pirates hardly dispersed yet."
"Alas," James took over, speaking dully "Land was not safe either, and it appears an ambush took place. Angry pirates, holding a grudge, wanting revenge, etcetera."
The stark shade of white that Beckett's face turned was obvious even in the darkness.
"That," he said, and then stopped to clear his throat when his voice was treacherously tremulous "Would be a grave error in judgement. I have friends in high places."
James blinked, straightening and making a great sarcastic show of looking about them as if in search of those friends.
"Well I don't see them here, Lord Beckett - not now, at least," he drawled "And thus, tragically, it appears they cannot be of any aid to you."
At Theo's other side, Jack was grinning - more at James' antics than the prospect of bloodthirsty revenge, in all likelihood.
"They will avenge me," Beckett argued sharply "Any man who attempts to take the law into his own hands and harm me will pay a sore price."
"In exchange for what?" Elizabeth challenged softly "You trade in power and favours. They have no reason to help you if you're not living. You can hardly repay that kindness. There's nothing in it for them. Nothing at all."
"Bad business, isn't it?" Theo murmured.
That earned her a poisonous look…which made her smile. Before them, Beckett tried to subtly test the hardiness of his manacles, but they rattled with the movement which had James drawing his sword, pointing it square at the man's face.
"Who's going to do it, then?" Barbossa asked.
"Me," James answered readily, lowering the sword once he was sure Beckett wasn't about to go sprinting down the beach "I will."
"That would not be wise, Admiral," Groves interjected strongly "Not if you don't wish to bring yet more trouble down on you. Best let one of the pi- one of the others handle it."
"So we can shoulder the blame if it comes down to it, is that right?" Barbossa asked.
"What's one more crime amongst a litany?" Groves pointed out "You've no wish to live in civilised society, it should be no large thing for you to handle."
"Nor would it be for him if nobody here plans on repeatin' what it is they see here on this beach," Barbossa argued.
"He has a point," Will admitted begrudgingly "But somebody must. Before we're happened across."
"This is worse than the Brethren Court," Jack grumbled to Theo, and she had to agree.
The only upshot was that Beckett looked positively nauseous, a cold sweat having broken out on his brow as his eyes shifted between each of the arguing pirates, to the point of James' sword, and then down the beach as though contemplating how far he could get before somebody caught up with him. It was when those cold, mirthless eyes drifted over her, that Theo spoke.
"Have they invented firing squads here yet?" she asked softly.
It was lucky that James had been the one who was putting forth yet another argument as she spoke, for if it was one of the others she suspected they wouldn't have fallen silent to listen to her.
"Firing squads? A method of execution?" she clarified, only to receive yet more puzzled frowns "No?"
"What's the witch on about now?" Barbossa griped.
Groves looked equally puzzled - he and Barbossa being the only two present not well versed in her history. Beckett knew almost as little as them, but he managed to look positively nauseous. Who could blame him? The term wasn't a pleasant one, and it did tend to pull on the imagination. She kept her eyes on his as she explained.
"A group of people, each with a gun, fire on the target. All at the same time. Nobody knows whose blow was the killing one, so everybody's to blame…"
"...while everybody also has plausible deniability," James caught on quickly, true to form.
"Out there, off of this beach, we all play dumb. We don't know what happened, somebody else must've done it. But we'll all know that all of us did it. It's a good insurance policy, is it not?"
"You truly are a simple Irish whore if you think you'll get away with this," Beckett hissed, perhaps thinking if he only acted outraged enough that they'd believe his words to be rooted in fact and not fear "This will not stand, questions will be raised!"
"Perhaps," she said "But you burned whatever bridges you might've had today when you shot Byam. With you dead, your friends won't have any motivation to raise those questions, will they? You've run out of allies."
She trailed off and then she offered a mocking sympathetic wince.
"People may suspect," Elizabeth agreed "But you've written such an ugly chapter in these parts, Lord Beckett, that they'll be more eager to bury it - and you - than they'd have any wish to dredge it up and examine facts."
"Your own fleet fled and left you to face us alone, mate" Jack said with a joyless, lopsided half-smile.
It was odd that out of them all, his expression was perhaps the most sympathetic, and even then it was hardly all cut up. Even Groves, who seemed the least willing to be involved in these proceedings, looked grim but otherwise determined. But it was clear he was never meant to be fully involved in this - which was why Theo didn't hesitate with her next request.
"Lieutenant – can I borrow your pistol?"
Slitting Mercer's throat might've been too much for her, but this? This she could do. With everybody else. If she didn't have some sort of hand in this - not just because it was her revenge, but because it was finally putting an end to everything - she'd only regret it down the line.
For a moment Groves regarded her with wide eyes, hesitating as his hand drifted towards the gun as his belt and then pause midway. But when she only returned that gaze expectantly (and, she suspected, when James did not put forth an argument against the matter) he finally sighed and drew his pistol. They all pretended not to notice that he seemed glad to be rid of it when she took it in her left hand. His loyalties and values, while in the right place, hadn't been quite put through the wringer in the same way James' had - and his very presence here on the beach had been a lot to ask.
Theo carefully settled the gun in her right hand. The care with which she had to take so as not to aggravate her fingertips only strengthened her resolve. Once they all began to ready their pistols, Groves stepped away, his expression grim.
And Beckett? Beckett was completely shutting down - much as she vaguely recalled him doing in the films. Did it feel more pitiful to witness now because it was in person, or had it always been that way? She couldn't really recall. Face blankly ashen and eyes vacant, he mumbled incoherently about half-baked plans, the consequences of what they were doing, how it would not go unchecked. Nobody listened.
Although she could say one thing for him - he didn't bed. He rambled, he muttered, he formulated wild and unrealistic plans, but it was all to himself.
Looks were exchanged as they formed a haphazard line before the man.
"Ready, men," Barbossa said, seizing the lead - despite having been so opposed to any sort of blame or responsibility "Aim."
They all did so, levelling their guns at Beckett. Before Barbossa could give the order, though, James snatched the opportunity, speaking firmly and grimly.
"Fire."
There was time only enough for Barbossa to fix him with an unimpressed look, and then a beat later they all fired - the shots ringing in a chaotic chorus through the night.
Beckett jerked where he stood, each bullet from each different angle trying to send him staggering this way and that. Not a blink later, he was in the sand, which slowly began turning black around his prone form.
A/N: So, I did a bit of (admittedly speedy) googling into firing squads and when they were first used as a means of execution - RIP my search history and the terrible, dastardly things that this story has done to it - and the earliest examples I could find were in the very late 1700s - literally 1799 in the example I saw, and even those were few and far between. Otherwise, they popped up in the mid 1800s and then grew increasingly common in the decades afterwards, so with this being 1729, it's totally feasible that this suggestion would be somewhat unexpected/novel/unheard of when Theo brought it up.
What a time to be alive. Or not, in Beckett's case. Waheyyyy. Alexa, play Shoot to Thrill.