Chapter 17: Put In His Place

Warnings: innuendo, cursin'…

Although Will entered Elizabeth's thoughts, the sensations that she was experiencing at the moment from this kiss pushed the thoughts right back out. She was alarmed at how easily Beckett was making her forget him, but even so, all thoughts related to Will evaporated right out of her system.

She wrapped her arms around Beckett's back, running her fingers along the sides of his spine. She could feel his heartbeat thudding against her chest… or was that her own?

The girl walked past him, heading in the opposite direction. Beckett had completely forgotten about her.

Elizabeth and Beckett continued kissing, him keeping his arms firmly around her waist.

He may not have the expertise of Jack, but his naivety compared to Jack is actually rather endearing, Elizabeth mused. Apparently he hasn't taken advantage of too many women in his lifetime. I am rather surprised, I must admit. Of course Jack would be experienced, what with all his Tortuga whores….

Can I truly be getting this worked up in the middle of the street, Beckett mused, feeling overcome with lust, fighting the urge to just push Elizabeth into some dark alley and— No. I'm not some pirate ruffian who can't control himself. I have standards. Morals. Yes, I am above doing that….

Using all his willpower, Beckett eventually broke the kiss after what seemed like an eternity. His face was definitely flushed, hers as well, both of their lips swollen. They simply looked at each other. He flashed her a subtle but naughty little half-smile, and she flashed him a satisfied grin in return.

The girl Beckett had forgotten, who had walked past the entwined pair as they kissed, had been living on the island since birth. She was now at the age of marrying, and was sick of all the proposals she'd get almost daily from the men of the Royal Navy, and now the East India Trading Company who had stationed themselves here. Today was the day she planned to stow away on their ship as a sort of skinny cabin boy. With her build, she could get away with it. A boyish hat was in her pocket, ready to be slipped on her head at a moment's notice.

Before she was to leave, she first wanted to say goodbye to the doctor who had employed both her and her mother for many years. So far, her life had been rather depressing, having grown up without a father, as well as living without a mother since she was ten years old. Her family had tried to convince her that her mother had eloped with a short but handsome commodore from the British Royal Navy to start anew, but she knew better. They knew better as well, but of course didn't reveal this to her. Both of her grandparents died without ever seeing their daughter again, holding on to the feeble hope that she was living a happy new life somewhere else. Dr. Serpa knew better as well, and told her he believed her mother to have been kidnapped. During her time working for him as his doctor's assistant, he'd tell her about that fateful couple of months—the months the Royal Navy had shown up on the island, wounded and pitiful and needing of help. He'd tell her that her mother had always been dedicated to her father, and no other. And most certainly not to that short but rather arrogant commodore….

She had certainly learned the tricks of the trade with Dr. Serpa in the five years that she had been employed with him, and could thus serve aboard the Royal Navy ship as a sort of medic. She had taught herself English, some from her mother as well, and knew many basic medical procedures. She was even carrying some tinctures on her person as she walked to her destiny: to become indispensable to the crew, and then to disembark elsewhere to start a new life away from all these rotten memories.

Now that all her family members were dead and she was alone, living in her mother's house, fending off proposals by day, she had plotted her escape by night. Mother would have never left me behind. Never. All she ever wanted was for my father to come home and to take us away from this place. And now they are both gone forever. No reason for me to remain here. I don't even have their graves to mourn over.

Unconsciously gripping Elizabeth's arm with an ironclad grip, Beckett passed the cottage, what with its curtained windows, poor construction, and painful memories of what might have been, walking rather rapidly with Elizabeth by his side.

"You're holding too tight," she murmured, trying to pull her arm away. This was not a grip of love; it was a grip intended for a prisoner. Maybe that kiss was supposed to be some sort of goodbye. Oh, God. He's probably planning on turning me in to the authorities… or planning on killing me. Beckett was deaf to her at the moment, entranced by this rundown cottage.

This may very well be the last time I lay eyes upon this place, Beckett thought, glancing into the windows of the cottage as he walked by at a slightly slower pace. Elizabeth took heed of his unnatural interest in the place and yanked away from this painful grip, successfully freeing herself from him.

"Why did you do that?" Beckett yelled at her. Her face turned beet-red. Just seconds ago you were happy to be in my arms.

"Because, Beckett, I don't like the way you're yanking me along so hard, as if you have some sort of scheme! What is going on?"

Something odd is going on, and he's not even about to explain himself. He's still too untrustworthy to deserve hearing his first name uttered as if by a friend. Even though I did allow him to kiss me… well, more than allow, really….

The sound of his name uttered loudly in the small village, and directly in front of the infamous building of his past, made him cringe. He glared at Elizabeth spitefully, keeping his face hidden from the windows of the building.

Someone else heard the loud announcement of the name from a position near the door of the doctor's office. That person approached him steadily from behind, curiosity piqued at this man's identity. Could it be?

"Commodore Beckett," the skinny girl from the house said with a thick Portuguese accent, poking him in the center of his back, as he stood cringing from Elizabeth's yell. Upon hearing these words, Beckett jumped in fear, almost losing his balance in the process.

"Commodore?" Elizabeth chuckled with surprise, looking at Beckett, then at the girl. The girl looked to be slightly taller than Beckett, skinny and tomboyish, with curly auburn hair and the darkest brown eyes. Elizabeth couldn't help but feel familiarity in this girl, but knew she had never been to this island before. And had certainly never met the girl before.

Beckett remained facing the opposite direction, his face burning. He felt the tap on his back again, more insistent this time.

"Beckett, aren't you going to turn around and look at her?" Elizabeth said to him playfully. "She seems to know you."

He refused to budge. Elizabeth could see that he was being stubborn, and grabbed him by the shoulders, spinning him around on the uneven cobblestone street so that he was now facing this girl.

"It is you!" the girl said, her dark eyes transitioning from curiosity to rage. His blue-gray eyes grew large for a split-second with recognition, him shocked into silence as she spoke in a low, dangerous growl. "You filho da puta… I should kill you. Why you take her from me?"

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.

"I have never seen you before in my life."

"Mentiroso vil, I will never forget your face! Where is she?"

"I don't know what you are speaking of," he said coolly. Elizabeth stared at him suspiciously. It was as if he had not a care in the world. However, before the girl could respond, he spun around, face set in a grimace as he did so, and took off sprinting in the other direction.

Elizabeth watched as the skinny girl took chase, yelling out curses, more than likely, in Portuguese. She had never seen Beckett in such a hurry, and was intrigued. Hesitantly she began running as well, following this enraged young woman in hot pursuit of 'Commodore Beckett.' I wonder what he did. And who's this 'her' the girl is referring to? What an odd triangle…

Beckett felt a stitch in his side already, as he slipped into an alleyway between houses on his way back to the Pearl. He'd hide in the water if he had to. It figured; if he had gone into the embassy with Elizabeth, the girl would never have found him. He might be at this very moment preparing to set sail on a ship of the Line back to Jamaica, where he could ascend the ranks once again. Clear his good name. And work his way up to the top so he could rid the world of pirates once and for all. Or be lying dead in the doorway of the embassy, having been shot where he stood. Either option was better than this current situation.

A situation in which he was racing down streets at speeds he hadn't attempted since he was in his early twenties. And well, it had certainly been many years since then. The girl would surely catch up to him. Now that he had fled from her, it was even more apparent that he was guilty. Maybe her mother's body washed up on shore, he mused. They had only been a half-day's journey from Pico Island when they had buried her at sea. The girl probably already knows her mother's fate and has been waiting all these years for me to return to exact her revenge. His heart skipped a beat at the thought.

Joana had certainly grown a great deal since he had last seen here when she was about ten years old. She now appeared to be about twenty years old, even though she was probably closer to twenty-five by this point, and all that baby fat she had had as a child had seemingly spread to fill her hollowed out, stretched out frame. Even though she looked practically starved, so much of her mother was in her. The way she had cursed in Portuguese, even though her English was rather good. The curliness of her hair, even though it was slightly darker than her mother's hair. If he wasn't so intent on surviving this encounter, he would have preferred to reminisce, to compare mother and daughter, perhaps over tea. Instead he was running from her in a rather cowardly manner.

I run because I do not wish to have to kill the girl. Oh, who am I kidding… she would stop at no less than to throttle me with her bare hands, of that I'm certain. And her hatred for me is enough that she could do it, no matter the strength of my struggle. In my unarmed state I'd be helpless to fight back. Why oh why didn't I grab a pistol before leaving the ship…

Jack had been searching the ship fervently for sign of Elizabeth or Beckett. It was as if they had disappeared into thin air. Please have them still be on the Pearl. I do not want to have to set foot on this bloody island, he mused. All he found was Beckett's frockcoat lying on the main deck near some rigging strung down over the hull. Even so, he checked below deck again.

After almost twenty minutes of searching throughout the ship, he had to accept that Beckett and Elizabeth had disembarked. He was filled with rage—and a bit of jealousy. How could Beckett have convinced her to leave wiv him? An' to think, I was goin' to make a nice sum of money from 'im. Bloody coward….

He rounded up Murtogg and Mullroy with the premise that he'd need bodyguards in town, just in case someone so happened to recognize him. This was partially true, but more importantly, they were to take Beckett to wherever the Royal Navy was stationed on this island. Of course, they weren't aware of the impending blackmail as of yet. As well as carrying a fresh pistol, a cutlass, and his dagger, Jack had furtively slipped some shackles onto his belt for the purpose of capturing Beckett—wherever he was.

Jack walked into the main square of town beside the docks, noticing a poster of Beckett, namely, with a higher reward of 25,000 pounds. Just wot I thought, he mused, smiling at the poster. His fate has certainly been sealed now.

Almost as soon as he had stepped away from the poster, Jack watched in awe as Beckett dashed towards the Pearl at full speed, pursued closely by a skinny albeit pretty girl dressed in drag, looking enraged and cursing at him in Portuguese.

He's on the island for twenty bloody minutes, an' he's already pissed someone off. Well, that's jus' like 'im, Jack mused, realizing that Beckett had no idea what was in store for him.

Beckett's face was beet-red and eyes wide as he ran full speed for the docks. How odd of Beckett to run from a mere girl, of all people, Jack thought, as he smiled at the out-of-breath man. Mus' be more of a coward than I firs' thought.

As Beckett tried to run past Jack to the ship, the pirate captain stuck out his leg at the last minute and tripped him, causing him to fall face-first onto the cobblestone square of the harbor.

Beckett automatically held out his arms to soften his fall, but he had still scraped up his chin quite a bit upon hitting the rough brick. From his position on the ground, aching all over, he seethed up at Jack, who was standing above him, a rogue grin on his face.

"What the bloody hell did you do that for, you imbecile?" Beckett yelled at Jack, still reeling from the unexpected fall. In response, Jack yanked the shackles from his belt and pounced on Beckett's back as Joana froze in place in front of them, confused at this turn of events. Was this mustached man helping her? She hadn't heard the exchange between them, too busy thinking of the worst insults she could possibly utter to describe the man who was responsible for the disappearance of her mother.

"For monetary gain," Jack replied in a grunt, as a late response to Beckett's question. "C'mon, no use fightin' th' inevitable."

Jack tried to force Beckett's arms behind his back, but Beckett was surprisingly strong. He kicked his legs about, striking Jack with them several times as he dug his arms underneath him, keeping them from being accessed.

"What are you talking about?" Beckett shot, his voice muffled as his face was shoved against the cobblestone.

"Reward, my friend. A rather substantial one at that. Did you not see your new poster?"

Beckett scoffed. Twenty-five thousand pounds, devil horns… and a lot of awkward questions.

Murtogg and Mullroy exchanged worried glances, backing away from Beckett and Jack, retreating step by step towards the ship.

"Looks like Jack can take care of hisself plenty good," Murtogg mumbled to Mullroy, who could only nod, eyes wide as saucers. They watched Jack's advantageous position over Beckett, their former leader.

"Well, Lord Beckett had a good run, while it lasted," Mullroy murmured. Murtogg nodded, as they both backed up across the docks.

"I don' want to have to kill you, mate, but it seems you've left me wiv no other choice," Jack said, as he sat on Beckett's back, pulling his pistol from his sidearm. Jack cocked the pistol, placing the barrel against the back of Beckett's head.

"But why?" Beckett shouted back, distressed at this shocking turn of events. Never had he expected Jack to do this….

He runs off wiv Lizzie, takin' her an' 25,000 pounds wiv it… an' now he doesn't understand why I'd want to do harm to him, Jack mused. Poor fool….

Preview for next chapter:

"I heard rumours that you had been killed by the Kraken, and escaped from Davy Jones' Locker," the EITC officer said coldly and almost in a whisper, noticing that Jack was unarmed at the moment.