OK, last chapter with Jack acting serious and most un-Jack-like. And, as a warning, this chapter gets a bit... erm, morally questionable, shall we say, on Beckett's part (OK, well, one could say the same for the last chapter too, but still...) So, even though nothing too bad happens, just thought I'd throw that out - you have been warned. Disney still owns everything, curse them.

4. Rescue

In the kitchens I met Juliana, Beckett's old cook. She was a stout woman with graying hair, light brown skin, and a stern face hardened by years of abuse and fear, yet her brown eyes were kind and understanding. When I appeared in the doorway, still shaking fretfully, she immediately sat me down at a wooden bench and put a cup of warm tea into my manacled hands.

'There, there, miss,' she said comfortingly, and asked me how I had ended up in Beckett's service. And so, between sniffing back tears and sipping tea, I told her about my few days of freedom and my recapture and sale. By the time I was done, she was looking at me with concern.

'If Beckett considers you to be a gift to himself, it's not a good sign,' she said ominously, rising to her feet and bustling across the kitchen to fetch me a bowl of soup and a chicken leg. 'I do all of his work for him – cleaning, laundry, cooking – so unless he's been kind enough to send me an assistant – unlikely – he's most likely bought you for your body.'

I choked on a mouthful of tea. 'Please tell me you're not serious,' I gasped.

Juliana slid my food across the table. 'Miss Anamaria, I wish I could,' she sighed. 'Now eat up – whatever the master's got planned for you, you don't wanna go into it weak from hunger.'

But I couldn't eat. I picked at my food nervously, trying not to imagine exactly what sort of horrible fate Beckett had planned for me when I went upstairs. I thought several times about making a run for it, but then I remembered what Beckett had said to me: Still thinking about running away? I assure you, I could do far worse to you if you tried to escape and were caught… and rest assured that should you escape, you would be recaptured… Was I brave enough to face the tortures that I had witnessed this afternoon? I shook my head desperately, feeling the world shrinking in around me as I realized that even after torturing me, Beckett would still be heartless enough to have his way with me. Following the instructions he had given me was the least painful thing to do.

And so, when I had finished what I could of my dinner, I slowly climbed the staircase up to Beckett's office, fighting to keep down the dread I felt. The sky outside the windows was stained blood-red by the setting sun, and for some reason I thought briefly of the pirate I had seen Beckett torture, the one who would hang the next day – I wondered if he was looking out on the same sky I was, watching the last sunset he would ever see. But the next moment I arrived at the office door, and all thoughts of the doomed pirate sped from my mind. Steeling myself with a deep breath, I knocked softly on the door.

'Come in,' drawled the imperious voice I had so come to hate. I opened the door to find Beckett seated at his desk, signing papers with one hand and sipping daintily from a cup of tea with his other. The pirate's sword, pistol, and compass still lay on top of the desk. I edged cautiously into the room, the chains that bound my hands clattering.

'Close the door, will you,' ordered Beckett without looking up at me. I pushed the door closed with one foot. The following silence was broken only by the scratching of Beckett's quill as he finished signing the papers on his desk.

'When do you plan to take these off me?' I asked finally, more to break the silence than anything else. I was pleased to find that I sounded as brazen and fearless as ever, even though it was all I could do to suppress the panic that was trying to claw its way up from my gut.

Beckett finally put down his quill. Rising, he walked around his desk slowly and crossed the room until he was only a pace away from me, pulling off his jacket as he did so and discarding it on the floor.

'You will wear those shackles until I am convinced that you will not attempt to escape,' he said softly. 'Until then…' He pulled a small key out of his pocket and dangled it tauntingly in front of my face. 'I will not unlock them.'

Although I knew there was no hope of escape, I grabbed for the key as Beckett slid it back into his pocket. Before I knew what was happening, he had grabbed my wrists and forced me against the wall, holding my hands captive above my head with the chain that bound them.

'Ah, see?' he murmured. 'Still determined to escape, even after I showed you what I do to runaways.' He smiled sinisterly. 'I told you I like a challenge.' He wrapped one arm around my waist and began to undo my skirt – I stiffened at his touch. 'I like to watch their will break, slowly but surely, as they come to accept I am their master.'

'Get off me!' I hissed, spitting directly in his face. His eyes flashed with uncontrolled anger and he slapped me hard across the face so that I actually saw lights flash before my eyes.

'You will learn to fear me!' he spat, throwing me brutally onto the floor, where I lay gasping for breath. 'Before this night is over, there will be no doubt in your mind as to whom you belong to!' I closed my eyes tight, wishing that I was dead so I would not have to endure whatever he was about to do to me.

But whatever blow I had expected did not come. Instead, I heard Beckett gasp, 'You!' Opening my eyes, I saw Beckett standing with one arm raised, no doubt with which to strike me again, but he was instead staring in bewilderment at the man who held his wrist in a firm grasp. I too gasped. It was the pirate who had only hours before been lying exactly where I was, defenseless and fearful, on the floor of Beckett's office.

'You know, the more I see of you, the less I like of you,' said the pirate in a conversational tone. 'Seems you don't like to talk to people in your office unless they have at least one set of shackles on, am I right?' Beckett was starting to get over his shock, and was raising his free hand to deliver another blow to the pirate's already bruised face, when, quick as lightning, the pirate leapt over to the table and snatched up his pistol, pointing it directly between Beckett's eyes and cocking it with a loud click.

'What do you want?' said Beckett coolly, though his clenched fists betrayed his fear.

'Ah, now see, I much prefer these circumstances for bargaining,' said the pirate. 'What I've come for is my effects, which I will take back, thank you very much.' Saying so, he slid his sword back into his belt and stowed his compass in a deep pocket of his jacket, never taking his eyes from Beckett's face as he did so. 'And, seeing as you've burned my hat, I think I might just have to take one of yours, won't I?' He picked up a hat that was lying on a nearby chair and glanced at it appraisingly before making a non-committal noise and placing it lopsidedly onto his head. 'It'll have to do. And now, what was that last thing I was supposed to do?' The pirate scratched his chin, pretending to be thinking hard. 'Ah, that was it. I'm supposed to kill you.' He raised the pistol a little higher and took aim with one eye closed.

'Sparrow!' said Beckett hurriedly. 'And what do expect will come of your killing me? You have no way of getting off this island – surely you knew we destroyed your ship?'

'Ah,' agreed the pirate, nodding his head. 'Then I'll need you to write me a safe passage aboard a ship before I leave your office, won't you, or else…' He clicked the hammer of his pistol again in warning.

A dark look clouding his face, Beckett walked slowly over to his desk and took up his quill in one hand. The pirate backed away to the other side of the desk, still holding the pistol at Beckett's head. As I watched Beckett scratch away at a piece of paper with his right hand, I saw his left hand open a small drawer on his side of the desk and pull out a small knife. There was no way the pirate could have seen it. As quietly as I could, I rose to my feet.

'Thank you very much,' said the pirate, holding out his hand for the letter Beckett had just finished writing. Staring impassively at the pirate, Beckett slowly handed over the paper, and then everything started happening very quickly, all at once.

In a flash of metal, Beckett raised the knife he held in his left hand and made to stab at the pirate who had just taken the paper from him. At the same time, I threw my arms around the front of Beckett's neck so that the chain that bound my wrists caught him about the throat. Grunting, he flailed his arms about, trying to free himself, and in an instant I felt a searing pain in my left side. With a cry, I fell backwards, Beckett toppling over on top of me, still thrashing as he fought for breath until, quite suddenly, he froze. Panting, I peered over his shoulder to see the pirate standing between Beckett and the fire, one hand holding the tip of his sword to Beckett's throat, the other clutching the handle of the same brand that had been pressed to his skin earlier that day.

'Frightening, isn't it?' said the pirate softly. 'It hurts more than you can imagine.'

'You wouldn't dare,' Beckett attempted to snap, the quaver in his voice making his panic obvious.

'I wouldn't, would I?' The pirate laughed darkly. 'There's no one that will hear you scream, save for me and this lovely lady here, unless you keep Mercer hidden away in a closet somewhere, a thought that I don't really want to contemplate on several levels. You can let him go, love,' the pirate added to me, and, with a jerky nod, I pulled my arms over Beckett's head and dragged myself backwards, trying to ignore the piercing pain in my side when I moved, nor the warm liquid that was drenching my dress…

'Just be glad I've decided not to turn you into a eunuch,' the pirate was saying menacingly. 'This is no more than what you've given me, and, seeing as I'm a decent person, I'll save you the humiliation of having it in a place that everyone else will see, though your forehead does look rather tempting.' Beckett stared up at the pirate in abject terror as the pirate furrowed his brow in thought. 'Ah, well then,' he said after a moment with a shrug, 'I just hope it hurts for quite some time.' And in one movement he whipped the white-hot brand out of the fire and lunged, pushing it hard onto Beckett's flesh, just above his heart. His scream was terrible to hear, even for someone who hated him as much as I did, and I was quite thankful when he passed out from the pain.

My vision was beginning to blur over a bit when the pirate stepped nonchalantly over Beckett's unconscious body and offered me a hand up. 'You all right, there?' he asked. To my surprise, there was genuine concern in his voice.

'Fine,' I gasped, trying to take a step and stumbling. 'Thank you,' I muttered as he caught me by the arm.

'Any way to get these off you?' he asked, frowning at the shackles about my wrists.

'His pocket,' I whispered, 'there's a key.' I swayed unsteadily on my feet as the pirate went to retrieve the key, and had collapsed to the floor by the time he returned to unlock the chains that held me captive.

'You saved me,' I mumbled as he turned the key in the lock. 'Thank you.'

'You'd have done the same for me, love, earlier today,' he replied. 'I saw it in your eyes, even if you were in no position to offer any help.' As he tossed the iron handcuffs across the room, I saw a shadow cross his face. 'You're hurt,' he said, touching me lightly on the left side.

I tried to smile and opened my mouth to assure him that I would be fine, even though I was not so sure myself, but just then the world went completely fuzzy, and the next moment everything went black.

Muwaha. OK, sorry, I just love watching Beckett get what's coming to him... score one for the pirates!!! Yeah, so that whole scene was in response to the unanswered question from DMC of what mark Jack left on Beckett... took me a while to think something up, but I figured more than anything else in the world, Beckett would hate being branded as a pirate, and it could also explain why instead of just answering Will and sparing us the agony of trying to figure out what he would have said, Beckett just keeps staring at the brand. That's just my take on it, though.