A/N: Please don't read deeper into Beckett's "three other people" in the last chapter. That was not my intention. Mercer and the two others merely have in common that they all have heard true confessions from Beckett. There was no lovey-dovey confession for Elizabeth here, and so please don't assume that there's lovey-dove ones for the others... Alright. Just wanted to clear that up.

Thank you for the kind and thoughtful reviews, everyone!

Chapter 6 – Barbossa and Cachalots

Warnings: a curse word, perhaps

Elizabeth leaned against the gunwale of the Pearl, watching the sun rise. The deck was completely silent, save for the barely perceptible sound of soft breathing coming from beside her. Beckett had followed her above deck and now stood beside her, leaning his slight frame against the gunwale as he squinted towards the pink horizon. Apparently the night before, he must have finally shaved off his facial hair, for now in the light, she could see that he looked like himself again. Elizabeth couldn't help but notice that the emerging rays of sun illuminated the new smoothness of his skin.

The unlikely pair stood side by side on the ship until the sun had completely emerged from the surface of the water, pink and orangey clouds extending from each side of the glowing orb, a slight chill in the breeze that occasionally ruffled their hair.

Neither said a word. The peace between them was somehow free from all the tension that had occurred below deck.

Elizabeth's thoughts ran through her mind. Maybe Beckett really has changed for the better. I can sense that he was indeed telling the truth about why he's been different lately, and I've never doubted that what he said to me that night in Curaçao was the truth, although I had tried to make it seem that I had doubts. I wonder what the doctor in the Azores is going to say about this constant nausea. I hope it isn't anything serious….

Meanwhile, Beckett's thoughts were of an entirely different nature. Now that I've won her trust, there's only one thing left to do…. Once we go ashore, that is….

It wasn't long before Barbossa appeared above deck, staring at Elizabeth and Beckett in utter confusion. They had been like oil and water these past several weeks, and had now resorted to standing side by side – alone… at daybreak?

Refraining from speaking his mind, Barbossa took the helm, watching the silent understanding between the two former enemies. What had occurred to make them civil to each other, friendly even, when only yesterday they couldn't even be in the same room?

He knew that Beckett had stayed in Elizabeth's cabin for a night a couple of months ago. Elizabeth had nursed him back to health when he was certainly near death. And it was her that went with Jack to stop Beckett's execution. He wasn't certain who was more in favour of returning to Port Royal for the purpose of rescuing Beckett, but the fact that either could have vouched for it was disconcerting enough.

Until now, Beckett had been actively avoiding her, which made sense. There need be a good reason why he'd do an about-face, Barbossa mused. Fer whate'er reason he's bein' friendly, it's not wrought with good intentions, that's fer sure.

Something definitely seemed suspicious, and he was morbidly curious to know. What exactly was going on? He hated the idea of doing third-party observing until something dreadful happened.

Soon thereafter Jack stumbled to the main deck. Upon seeing Elizabeth against the gunwale, he approached her, draping an arm across her shoulders. She jerked at the sudden contact, almost tumbling into Beckett, who had to jump out of the way.

"Wot's on your mind, luv? You're up awfully early."

"I couldn't sleep," she replied truthfully. He glanced over at Beckett, suspicion in his gaze.

"I see," Jack said, subtly pulling her away from Beckett, who stood on the other side of her. "An' did it help, watchin' the sun rise?"

"Actually, it did," she replied, feeling a bit of discomfort. This situation was rather odd. Why does Jack have to be so pushy all the time? Whereas Beckett can stand next to me for an hour and not cross any type of line. Well, of course it has to do with their respective feelings towards me. Jack's intentions are not exactly friendly… whereas Beckett is just… well, aloof, in every sense of the word.

"Lizzie, I've got somethin' to show you," Jack murmured, standing ever so close to her.

She waited. When he didn't make any move, she spoke up, slightly agitated.

"Well, what is it?"

"It's in me cabin."

She crossed her arms, looking at him with eyes narrowed.

"I'm not falling for—"

"Step lively, or you'll miss it!" he said, grabbing her arm and pulling her along.

As the pair retreated to the cabin, Beckett muttered something unspeakably crude# yet did not watch them leave.

Upon seeing that Beckett was now alone, Barbossa soon descended from the quarterdeck and sauntered over to Beckett at the gunwale.

"I've a question fer ye," Barbossa said, leaning his upper body over the railing, looking towards the shorter form of Beckett beside him.

"And what would that be," Beckett replied, looking utterly disinterested, continuing to stare at the horizon.

"Is there somethin' goin' on betwixt Elizabeth an' yerself?"

Suddenly Beckett's curiosity was riled, and he looked at the tall captain, an impish grin crossing his face.

"What would give you that impression," he said blandly, his naughty smirk betraying the dryness of his speech.

"I've jus' noticed that until today, ye two have been avoidin' each other like the Plague, an' now yer both up at daybreak… an' standin' side by side, at that. Ye should be well-aware that Elizabeth is now a married—"

"I am well-aware that she is now Elizabeth Turner, thank you," was Beckett's disdainful reply. "It just confounds me to no end why Mr. Turner is still not present."

Barbossa hadn't realized just how unaware Beckett was of the situation with Turner, the obligatory new captain of the Flying Dutchman. And he wasn't about to reveal anything new. Needless to say, Barbossa was curious as to the nature of this strange association between Beckett and Elizabeth, and how it might affect their relationship with the Flying Dutchman if her captain should become aware of possible flirtation. There was no denying it; the Pearl had many enemies and was in dire need of replenishing weapons, food, crewmembers, as well as in need of reminding other pirate ships of their allegiance. Barbossa knew the importance of retaining such an important ship as the Dutchman as an ally in these difficult times, even if she was now more dedicated to her otherworldly duties.

"He's away on business fer th' time bein'," Barbossa replied, "but ye'd do best to keep yer distance from Mrs. Turner, in case he should arrive without warnin'."

"He can't just materialize into thin air!" Beckett replied. Barbossa looked away, lest his facial expression divulge anything more. Actually, that's entirely possible, Barbossa mused, focusing his attention on a land mass a great distance away. The former lord continued speaking quite haughtily. "I daresay if the situation should arise I shall be well-informed of his impending arrival, simply by standing right where I am and observing."

Beckett's response was ambiguous. Was he or wasn't he admitting to some sort of association with Elizabeth?

"So are ye sayin' ye've somethin' to hide fer when Mr. Turner should return?"

"I will leave that up to you to contemplate," Beckett said, moving away from the railing and taking a step away from Barbossa, most likely to head below deck once again.

He was thwarted by Barbossa grabbing his arm, rather forcefully, in fact. Beckett let out a slight hiss of pain as he tried to pull away, but it was no use.

"Listen 'ere, Beckett; there's nothin' keepin' me from tyin' ye to th' anchor an' throwin' ye off the ship right here an' now. So's ye'd do best to heed what I be sayin', lest ye find yerself on the bottom o' the sea fer all eternity."

Beckett let out a little laugh.

"You should first be certain that the ship still possesses an anchor. It's been through an awful lot of strife these past couple of months," he replied, displaying his customary crooked grin.

Barbossa squeezed his arm as tightly as he could, eliciting a grunt from the disgraced former lord.

"Shut yer mouth," the tall captain commanded, "or else I'll commit ye to the sea right here an' now."

"Why are you suddenly so dead-set against me?" Beckett asked him, attempting to wrest back control of his own arm.

Barbossa pulled Beckett in close to him, and stooped nearer to his height.

"Ah, was I not before? Hmm, I happen t' recall 'twas I that made ye cry in front o' the entirety o' the Pearl's crew."

"That was not done on your own volition."

"Ah, is that what ye've chosen to believe? Well, if it'd been me that'd seen ye floatin' on the water like a clump o' seaweed, I'd-a ensured yer demise with a well-placed bullet."

Beckett let out a sigh of exasperation.

"As would anyone else aboard the ship… save for Elizabeth, apparently. However, I'm of the impression that your hatred for me has intensified as of late."

"As one who staged a mutiny an' then captained this very ship fer nigh a decade, I know what it's like to be schemin' up plans to cause the mos' destruction an' to come out on top. So I know that ye be up to no good."

Beckett opened and closed his mouth, but Barbossa beat him to the next word.

"I can understand why ye'd need use o' the Pearl t' escape Port Royal. Ye'd not had another choice at the time. Howe'er, yer newfound comradeship with 'lizabeth after so long an uneasiness bodes ill will fer us all."

The former lord yanked his arm away quite forcefully, finally able to speak with his slightly lengthened distance from the tall pirate captain.

"Mayhap I am simply trying to make the best of a most unpleasant situation," he replied, dusting off the sleeve that had been grabbed.

To Beckett's surprise, Barbossa did not make another move to grab him. Instead, he stared steadily at Beckett.

"I'll be keepin' an eye on ye, an' if I see anythin' that rouses my suspicions, ye'll not have a chance to explain firs'." He stood at his full height, looking rather stately, as Beckett continued to slowly inch away from him. "D'ye understand?"

When Beckett hadn't said anything, Barbossa took a step forward, eliciting a flash of eye contact from the slowly retreating former captive.

"I believe I asked ye a question," Barbossa said, taking another step, moving his hand to his sidearm.

"Yes, I understand," Beckett replied hesitantly. He descended the stairs before Barbossa could do anything else.

I know he's up to somethin' but I'm not sure what exactly, Barbossa mused. I'll ensure he's long-dead before whatever plans he's got up 'is sleeves e'er come to pass.

Meanwhile, in Jack's cabin, Jack had dragged Elizabeth over to the windows at the stern end of the ship to point out a flat grayish rock with a little raised area extended above the surface of the water. There seemed to be droplets of water spurting from the raised region of the gray expanse.

"What is it?" Elizabeth gaped, staring at the floating mini island with its own water-volcano, apparently. She gaped over at Jack, who was watching her with a bemused expression.

When she turned around again, the gray thing was gone. She gasped, covering her mouth, looking back at Jack again.

"But it was just there—" she began to say.

"See, if we would've waited any longer you would've missed it," he told her, watching her look at him suspiciously.

"What was that?" she said.

They sat down on a bench by the window. The gray thing was long gone, only leaving behind ripples on the surface of the water.

"As much as I'd like to say that was a living island, it was, in fact, a cachalot," he replied.

"Cachalot?"

"Ah. That's the Portuguese word for 'em. They are also referred to as sperm whales. Some sort o' massive fish#," he said dismissively. "Rather huge they are. A man can walk right inside their gaping jaws wivout even duckin'."

"Really." She was obviously in a state of disbelief.

"They've got huge heads, an' enormous teeth," he continued. "Some bein' th' length o' my pistol. An' they have, as you saw, a sort o' blowhole, I believe it's called, atop their head that they breathe through."

"How big are they?" she asked, intrigued by the strange creature.

"Most of 'em dwarf th' Pearl in length," he said matter-of-factly, watching Elizabeth's eyes grow large in response.

"Why did you take me to see it from inside your cabin? We would have easily seen it from the quarter—"

He held a finger up to shush her.

"Mayhap, but it would have been scared outright at seein' our figures suddenly appearin' in such a conspicuous location."

"Ah," she said, though finding that hard to believe. How silly it was for something larger than the Pearl to be scared of two tiny humans.

"When did you get to see them close-up?" she asked him.

Jack hesitated, as if deciding whether or not to explain.

"There was a point in me past when I hunted 'em off th' coast of Pico Island."

The question suddenly arose in her head, hanging over her like a ton of bricks. What is Jack's problem with the Azores? Beckett had been so insistent on her not mentioning anything to Jack, but how would Beckett have come by the information without herself doing so as well? Why was this information being purposely kept from her? She felt a tinge of jealousy over the two enemies sharing this secret that she had no part in. Jack had mentioned Pico Island to her without a moment's thought, so why shouldn't he be willing to continue to divulge?

Jack looked a bit uncomfortable, and tried to spot the animal again out the window of his cabin, all the while Elizabeth watched him carefully. She opened her mouth to speak.

"Jack."

He turned to look at her, his face showing uneasiness.

"What did you do in the Azores?"

His face flashed shock for a moment, and then returned to one of moderate discomfort.

"Wot do you mean by that, luv?" he asked her incredulously.

She had to be more careful with how she phrased things. It would be destructive if she made it seem that she knew more than she was supposed to.

"You've been there before, as you just now said. What was it like there?"

Stupid question, she mused. Now he's going to give me a stupid answer.

"Fine it was. Rather pleasant climate. Much more so than our last destination," he said, fishing for words.

I was correct. Really stupid response. Well, here goes nothing…

"Why didn't we go there first then?"

His eyes reflected suspicion, darting about the dimmed cabin as if Beckett was hiding somewhere.

"Well, it's a well-used trade route," he said after several silent seconds of consideration.

"Then why are we going there now?" she replied quickly.

"Wot's wiv all th' questions all of a sudden?" he said, chuckling nervously.

"Well, we're on our way there now, and I hadn't realized you'd been there before, is all. I was just wondering what it's like, because I myself have never been to the Azores before."

Uh oh. How stupid she had been, to immediately connect Pico Island to the Azores and then to admit that she had never been there!

"Lovely place. Puts the last place to shame in every respect o' th' word, it does." He paused, looking at her intensely. "But then, how would you know that Pico Island is a part of the Azores unless…."

His expression of sheepishness and discomfort immediately darkened to one of anger.

Oh, God, Elizabeth mused, her throat constricting. I've really gone and done it now.

#Note: I actually had a real retort from Beckett here, but decided that it was unspeakably crude.

#Note: a sperm whale is not actually a fish; it is a mammal. But Jack's not aware of that. He's naught but a humble pirate…