A/N: Thanks for the feedback, guys! I really appreciate it:)

Chapter 2 – A Changed Man

Warnings: none

"An' who would these traitors be, pray tell?" Gibbs asked, finally entering the cabin fully, pulling the door closed behind him.

"Did you ever catch a glimpse o' th' chest containin' th' heart o' Davy Jones aboard th' Dutchman?"

"Don't change the subject, Jack," Elizabeth snapped.

"I'm not," he countered. "It has everythin' to do wiv wot I'm tellin' you."

When he was returned with blank stares from all three, he sighed.

"Th' guards," he said, gesticulating wildly. "The ones that were guardin' th' chest. Anyone on th' Pearl seem… familiar to you?"

Elizabeth suddenly recalled the odd familiarity she had felt with the newest members of the Pearl, the ones who had retrieved Beckett's frockcoat and waistcoat for her after Beckett's flogging.

"You mean…. Smith and Hawkins?" she asked.

"Wot?" Jack snorted at her. "I dunno their names. The point is, I found two red coats stowed aboard th' Pearl. An' upon findin' them, I soon came to th' conclusion that our newest hands are a rather bumbling sort o' pair, former soldiers o' the Royal Navy an' formerly sided wiv th' East India Trading Company. I find it highly likely that they stowed away before th' end o' th' Endeavour's life above th' water."

"So what are you planning on doing?" Elizabeth said, having been lost by his detailed explanations.

"They're goin' to be th' very ones that turn Beckett in, if th' need should arise."

Barbossa did not look convinced.

"An' why do ye think they'll not keep the reward fer themselves, an' take off? Or, seein' as they once were loyal to 'im, to jus' let 'im walk?"

"Blackmail," Jack said matter-of-factly, flashing a big smile. "Simple as that. I shall vow to them that if they do not follow my explicit instruction, they will not be able to set foot on land again wivout bein' gunned down for their treachery to th' Crown. Or if they happen to be unlucky enough to be spotted by myself, to be shot where they stand."

"That's quite the dastardly plan," Elizabeth muttered, wondering how Jack's mind could constantly be scheming against others.

"C'mon, Lizzie," he said, beaming. "Could you really expect any less from Captain Jack Sparrow?"

It didn't take very many seconds for Barbossa and Gibbs to leave the cabin.

For the past month, Beckett had been actively avoiding Elizabeth. Perhaps it was because he still felt embarrassed in assuming that he was going to die, and saying all that he had said to her. He had never revealed his regret to another living being, even his own family members. However, in having done so, Elizabeth no longer hated him. When she would happen to catch his eye, she never flashed him the glare of utmost contempt as before. She would simply avert her eyes or suddenly take interest in some aspect of the ship's architecture, and get away hastily.

He stood above deck with the other crew, watching them angling the sails so as to catch the wind. Gibbs was at the helm, altering the rudder's direction to make the crews' job easier. A rather nasty gale of wind blew across his face, and he backed himself into the slightly protected region in front of the captain's cabin door. This was a mistake.

Suddenly, Elizabeth opened the cabin door, causing it to whack Beckett rather forcefully in the side.

He yelled in protest, grabbing the side of the arm that took most of the hit.

"Watch where you're going, you bloody—"

Once he glanced up and saw that it was Elizabeth who had hit him with the door, he abruptly stopped talking with a sharp intake of frigid air. His eyes drifted downwards immediately, and he clasped his hands together demurely in front of him.

Elizabeth looked at him, her face flushing. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you were standing there," she said, noticing his complete lack of eye contact. He seemed to be a completely changed man from the confident one of yore. She decided to press him for information, because it didn't make sense to her as to why he had been purposely avoiding her and completely unable to look at her.

"Is there something wrong with you?" she said to the former lord. His head suddenly jerked up, eyes not following until a few seconds later.

"No. Why do you ask?"

"I've just noticed you've been acting funny lately."

"Really," he said, with a slightly affronted air, making eye contact with her for a split second, and then dropping his gaze. This agitated Elizabeth to no end.

"It just seems as if you have something to hide. You can't even look me in the eye anymore."

He sighed, and then raised his eyes once again, this time making eye contact and holding it there. He continued to stare at her, which was making her uneasy, the first time in a month that he was willing to look at her for more than a split second. His cheeks were rosy red from the icy winds whipping at his face, and his mouth was only slightly ajar, allowing his outtakes of breath to emerge in puffs of steam. He had been letting his facial hair grow out, for there was a beginning of a moustache and goatee forming. Even his cheeks had longer stubble coming in.

"I have nothing to hide," he said nonchalantly, holding his hands out to the side.

"Then what is it?"

"I don't understand what you're getting at." He paused. "It is I that has come to the realization that you've been avoiding me," he countered.

"I have only been treating you differently because the way you've been acting lately is unnerving."

"Then how is the situation supposed to improve if it's never addressed," he replied dryly.

"But isn't that what we're doing now?"

He gave her a half-hearted smirk, but his eyes were not smiling. "So it is," he said softly.

"Is there anything you'd like to clear up while we're face-to-face?" she asked him, crossing her arms as she watched his smirk fade.

I could never tell her just how uncomfortable it is speaking to her after I revealed what I thought would be my last words. I have now misjudged twice what I perceived to be certain death. And what's worse is that I believe I actually meant my words that night. Otherwise, what would have possessed me to reveal them at a time when they would have given me no benefit?

He must have been pondering for a time, because he heard her speak again.

"I can see you're considering. Just spit it out."

He narrowed his eyes at her, looking slightly offended.

"Why the sudden curiosity to know my innermost feelings?"

She cut him off as he realized he had already said too much on the matter.

"So your avoidance of me has to deal with your innermost feelings? This must be very grave indeed. I didn't even know you had innermost feelings."

He let out a bored chuckle.

"In fact it is nothing. This climate is simply not suitable for conversation; it's only appropriate for huddling in some protected corner and allowing for the endless chattering of one's teeth."

"So you're going to snap out of it once we reach the Azores?" she said, half-smiling, awaiting a reply.

"Alright," he huffed, after a minute's hesitation.

She pointed at him accusingly, her face a broad smile.

"Then you admit it, you have been acting strangely!"

"You must not be so sure of the truth yourself, to have to verify it with me," he mumbled.

"Well, you're aware that you've been different!" she replied.

"I don't have time for this," he said, averting his eyes and looking towards the struggling crew.

She scoffed rather loudly.

"I'm not the cause of your inability to help the crew. You were huddled over here in the first place."

He rolled his eyes.

"I certainly realize that I made a dire error in judgment in doing so," he grumbled, stepping briskly away from her upon the finishing of his sentence.

She could only scoff again, her mouth agape, feeling a rage of emotions. Cutler Beckett – the man she had presumed to be changed, the man who had offered his regret and sorrow for the grief he had caused her, the man who had saved her life –had just blown her off completely and was as cold and callous as ever.

She watched him stride proudly towards the crew in his ruined frockcoat, wrapped in a piece of faded black sail, never looking back. This lack of getting through to him almost felt like rejection, and it stung her. As well as this, the fact that lately she had been uncharacteristically moody and emotional didn't help matters any.

Before he reached the mainsail, Elizabeth was behind him, tapping him forcefully on the shoulder. He turned his head to see who had just touched him, and upon the realization that it was Elizabeth, turned his head back to the front.

"What is your problem?" she squawked, feeling the sting of rejection, abandonment, and a fear that perhaps she had misjudged Beckett to be a decent man.

"I do not know what you are speaking of," he replied coldly.

A cold wind whipped across Elizabeth's face and instinctively she ducked down and turned her head to hide the exposed skin of her face in the fabric of the sail that was currently draped around Beckett. This resulted in her face being nestled close to the crook of his arm. He jerked away as if scalded and looked at her with distrust.

Immediately upon becoming aware of what she had just done, Elizabeth's face flushed scarlet even more so than the winds could cause, shot him a look of contempt, and headed back towards Jack's cabin.

Once at the door, she yanked it open and went over to Jack, who had since wrapped the sheets around his face and shoulders so that it appeared that he was wearing a burka. Only his kohl-lined eyes were exposed to the chill of the air.

"The nerve of that bloody prig!" she exclaimed, throwing herself down on a chair.

"Wot's wrong, luv?" Jack asked, leaning in closer to her.

"Beckett – he's being so weird now. He can't even look me in the eye. I daresay I don't trust him anymore, what with him being so avoidant and… strange."

"Don' you see, Lizzie? He prob'ly never thought he was goin' to see us again, an' yet, here he is, havin' to deal wiv th' consequences of perhaps sayin' too much."

"What do you mean?"

"I've never known th' man to ever admit to anything, let alone apologize heartfelt-ly. It seems that you've gotten him to do both, an' it probably bothers 'im that you got to 'im that much."

"Oh." She suddenly looked lost in thought, rather ashamed of how she had jumped to conclusions over the awkwardness she felt every time Beckett was in her proximity.

Gibbs suddenly ran into Jack's cabin.

"We caught the wind, Jack! We're settin' sail now!"

"But wot of th' anchor?" Jack asked.

"Once we shattered some o' the ice aroun' the anchor cable, we were able to pull it right up. 'Twas just th heavy ice surroundin' the cable that be hinderin' us before."

"Perfect," Jack said, wanting to clap his hands together but choosing to keep them stashed away in warmth.

Once the Pearl had set sail for its new, warmer destination, Beckett followed the crew back down to the forecastle, noticing the odor of smoke.

"Bloody 'ell! She's outta control!" Ragetti yelled, grabbing the large bottle of somehow-not-frozen liquid. Beckett watched him lift it over the flaming jar, hearing the sloshing of the liquid in the bottle. Something felt very wrong.

"No, wait!" he yelled, rushing forward, just as Ragetti poured the rum on the fire.