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Chapter 16: Ginger

Warnings: I shan't spoil things….

Beckett marched Elizabeth right past the door of the embassy, back towards the docks, quickening his pace as they walked along the dirt road, clouds of dust puffing up around their feet. If he thought about his decision any longer, he might reconsider. Why am I passing up on this chance to redeem myself? Ugh, her being pregnant makes it all the more worse, he mused. But is that the only reason? If it were something else ailing her, would I have turned her in? Guess I'll never know….

"What is your problem?" Elizabeth said in an irritated tone. "You're hurting my arm."

If she only knew what could have become of her mere seconds ago, he mused, languidly glancing towards the cottage as they approached it from a distance away.

Suddenly Elizabeth stopped in place, causing him to stumble to an involuntary halt, for his hand was still attached to her arm.

"What the bloody hell did you do that for?" he asked her, irritated by the unannounced stop.

"I just remembered; you have to get those sutures removed," she said to him. Immediately his look of irritation faded, replaced with a look of surprise. She tried to turn around, but his hand held fast, his feet stayed planted on the ground.

"We have to go back to Dr. Serpa's office," she said, tugging him in vain. "He'd do a better job of it than anyone aboard the Pearl would."

Ha, Beckett mused. As if I'll be spending any more time amongst those vermin of the sea.

She tried to tug him along again, but he wouldn't budge.

"It won't stall us for very long," she said soothingly. "Just a couple of snips with a pair of scissors. You told me that this was what you were going to—"

"I'm not going back there," he suddenly blurted rather harshly. "It's too late now."

She sighed, trying to cross her arms, though that was rendered impossible by Beckett's ironclad grip on her arm. She rolled her eyes, irritated with the stubbornness of her companion at the premise of having his itchy sutures finally removed.

Beckett rolled his eyes as well, glancing about the vicinity to see a crudely drawn wanted poster of himself with a new, higher reward. Oh, great, now the people I'd so hoped to have forgotten me by this point have a new visual reminder of me every time they walk by.

"Twenty-five thousand pounds! Of all the impertinence!" he scoffed, reading the bold red lettering above the words Dead or Alive. It was then he noticed the two horns drawn on the top of his head, much resembling devil's horns. His cheeks flushed red with anger, but he remained silent. Elizabeth noticed his response, and then saw the horns for herself.

"So apparently someone doesn't like you here," she said to Beckett. "What's the story behind that, anyway? I thought you were healed up by the doctor and went on your way." Elizabeth asked. He rolled his eyes, looking away from her.

"Not quite," he managed to murmur. Oh, if she only knew…. He did not continue to explain.

Elizabeth looked irritated.

"Well, it's good that the doctor didn't turn you in, being as it'd be easy to recognize you, even with your hair down." The redness of his face darkened at her statement. "I never realized you had a problem with this place as well as Jack. Now I know why you want to be called by your first name. Not because of friendship—just the fact that you don't want to be recognized. Ha! Trust you, indeed. "

He sighed, slightly loosening the grip on her arm.

"Recognition is not a problem, really. And obviously not a major enough issue for anyone to suppose I'd never come here," he said, indicating the poster. "I did offer to bring you to this doctor, did I not? I think that simply going along with calling me by my first name is a small inconvenience, if you could even call it that, in order for you to get the best medical help available."

She seemed to calm down at the statement.

"Alright. But you should have explained why you wanted to be called by your first name, rather than letting me assume—"

He looked over at her with keen interest, watching her flash him a look of perhaps saying too much. A smirk played across his lips.

"Letting you assume what…"

"Never mind," she muttered, looking back over at the poster.

"The doctor is the only one I know in town," Beckett explained. "being as he was the one to treat my wounds years ago. More than likely, he's probably the only inhabitant of this island that could positively identify me."

"But then what is the basis for devil horns being drawn on your head? I can recall none of the wanted posters in Port Royal having anything added to them." She chuckled. "And somehow I doubt Dr. Serpa added them."

"Some bratty little neighborhood kid is probably responsible. I could not care less."

"Even if you did care, you're only angry for a minute or so, and then all your anger dissipates."

He gave her a tight-lipped smile, feeling all anger fade away at the thought of the higher price on his head—and how quickly he might have been shot upon entering the embassy; as boring as the lives of these Royal Navy most likely were, they'd shoot first, and ask questions later. After all, it's dead or alive. Easier to carry a body than a vigorously struggling prisoner. All anger had left him, replaced with relief. Elizabeth certainly knew about his uncanny ability to release all pent-up anger.

"And so it does," he replied, realizing the accuracy of her observation.

They strode through the streets quickly, Elizabeth trying to pull away from Beckett's tight grip on her arm. This was completely different from traveling through the streets of Curaçao with Jack, who had kept a good distance between them. She had never thought of Beckett as the clingy type, yet here he was, practically dragging her down the road by her arm. As they continued on their way, a skinny girl with dark hair exited Beckett's cottage of interest, wearing men's clothing, her hair pulled back in a low ponytail, walking towards them now. Oh my God. Who is that? Beckett mused, immediately averting his eyes, keeping his head down. He couldn't divert him and Elizabeth from the path now; there was nowhere to go. And it would make him seem only more suspicious.

Turning his attentions to the woman beside him, he watched as Elizabeth patted her stomach gently, smiling down presumably at the living being within her. I still can't believe that she remembered the wound on my back. I do believe she was actually concerned about it. And to think, it was I that had completely forgotten about it...

"I'm so excited to be pregnant!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "That sickness I was experiencing is called morning sickness, the doctor said. It goes away after a time. You were right about the ginger as a remedy for it, though I didn't mention you by name, don't worry…."

He felt his face going red at her admission, but didn't say anything.

And look," she added excitedly, pulling a couple of lumpy, tawny items out of her pocket, "he even gave us more ginger!"

At that, she held the roots out to him to take. Beckett accepted the ginger roots with his free hand and stared at it intensely, looking over at Elizabeth briefly to see her beaming at him. He tucked the items in a pocket as he watched her continue to smile at him.

Us? She assumes I'm going to stay on the ship? No. I must get away somehow. I must find a way to escape the pirates, even though everyone on this island would be able to recognize me. A beard…. Maybe I'll grow a beard again. Yes. That is what I shall do. Get Elizabeth back to the ship, and then take off down an alley. I could take up residence—somewhere—oh, how is this going to work? Ugh, damn all wanted posters to hell….

But then…Elizabeth would be willing to share the ginger with me? Ha. Us, sitting aboard the Pearl, sipping ginger tea. Then when she'd spill it or fill it too high to be sipped safely, I'd place her over my knee and—

The girl came closer and closer. He watched her feet as she approached. Most certainly she had heard Elizabeth's exclamation of pregnancy. His heart caught in his throat.

He felt the warmth of Elizabeth, the softness of her skin, as he gripped her arm even tighter.

She'd probably begin spilling the tea on purpose. I would then look forward to having tea all over my lap, if only for the body draped over it afterwards….

And we wouldn't stop there, no…she didn't want to stop before but she had to… no, we wouldn't stop… not until both of us were sapped of all strength. And what's even better, she's pregnant. She can't very well get pregnant again… at least not until she's had the baby. That's rather convenient, I must say.

Oh, and of course, this bloody baby. I'm not entirely opposed to the idea of standing in as its father… temporarily?… being as its own is essentially deceased. Once every ten years. Heart locked away in some chest. Bah.

If I had also insisted on picking up her child those years ago, she would never have stopped eating and thus would have lived, if only for the sake of her child—maybe even would have given in to my proposal when the time came. Of course, I'd only be willing to further consider this option if Elizabeth would be willing to—his walking came to an abrupt halt at the realization of the heading of his train of thought. WAIT!—God, what am I thinking? What sort of spell am I under? I didn't eat or drink anything at the doctor's house, did I? This is…utterly preposterous.

He noticed Elizabeth looking at him with a rather confused expression on her face.

Elizabeth. She had been willing; that was for certain. Unlike bloody Luiza. Just the thought of her name resonating in his head caused flashbacks of a most disturbing nature. The last time he had said her name when she was still alive—and yet, she still wouldn't acknowledge him. Watching her lie calmly in the bed of his cabin, the only time he had ever seen her look peaceful, her clear blue eyes staring off in the distance, as if she was searching within her mind for her long-lost love. And those clear blue eyes closing then, in death.

The girl had to only be a couple of yards away now. And he had stopped moving for some stupid reason. He could feel Elizabeth's gaze burning into his face right now.

However, his mind could only think of one thing. It was something he needed to do at the moment, even if he wasn't in danger of being recognized by the girl. It would tell him for certain if his earlier thoughts were merely incoherent ramblings of a slipping mind, or if they had any physical basis. And if Elizabeth later on angrily demanded his reasoning for it, he could lie, explaining that he was merely preventing being recognized, and that the situation had called for desperate measures.

Our ginger.

He pulled Elizabeth to him tightly, her chest pressed up against his own. Her eyes went wide with alarm as he brought his mouth to hers in an intense, forceful kiss. She seemed to melt in his arms, not fighting the kiss, but allowing the tip of his tongue to part her lips. Pleasure overtook her every sense, and she felt completely at ease, relaxed, yet…. aroused. Her hands rose to rest lightly above his hips.

She was swooning, she knew it. So sudden and intense. Yet not entirely unexpected, really. After the… experience in the hold she had been tempted. More than likely he had been as well. And yet, it had not been the right moment.

But this news, this wonderful news, makes everything so much more exciting, Elizabeth mused, enjoying the sensations of this kiss. I'm pregnant!

A sobering fact then occurred to her.

I'm pregnant…with Will's baby.

Ah! Elizabeth's conscience slipping in there now and again! But can Beckett make her forget?

Preview for next chapter:

Even though his heart was hammering in his chest, the most frightened that Cutler Beckett had ever been of a female, he remained calm on the exterior.