Disclaimer: I only own Kate. Everything else is owned by Disney.

"Okay," I grumbled. "So far, this adventure isn't turning out like I hoped."

Just be patient. It's only the first part; you'll be out of here soon.

Beckett had ordered us to be thrown in jail to await our official sentence. We were now sitting in a cell at Fort Charles, with my sword and rucksack hanging on the rack outside. As before, the only other occupied cell was the one to our left, which was filled with a group of sleeping prisoners that looked oddly similar to the criminals in the first movie…now that I think of it, this may be the exact same cell. Déjà vu.

"So," Elizabeth said from her spot on the ledge, "you knew about all this?"

I nodded. "Yeah. That's why I came back – to warn you."

Will paused in his nervous pacing of the cell. "How did you get here by yourself?"

I smiled slyly, for once having come up with an explanation. "It's amazing how far a fishing boat takes you, mate." I winced realistically. "And how fast it'll sink."

Will frowned. "Sank?"

"Yeah, I only just made it before the whole thing went under. Talk about lucky, huh?" An image of Anamaria's boat popped into my head, and I suppressed a giggle.

"Looks like that luck's worn out," Lizzie commented bitterly, playing with one of the ribbons on her dress. Will sighed heavily and resumed pacing.

"Not to worry, people," I said with more confidence than I had. "This isn't a problem. We'll be out of here in no time. No problem at all."

"Easy for you to say," Lizzie replied hopelessly. "You're probably used to breaking out of jails by now." It would have been a biting insult if there'd been any energy behind it.

I got the message anyway. "Okay, one, I wasn't saying we were gonna break out, and two, I haven't done anything illegal since Jack and I got separated!" I looked away, seething.

When Lizzie spoke again, her voice sounded shocked. "You…you and Jack were separated?"

"Well, seeing as he's not here –" I began.

"I knew he wasn't here with you in Port Royal, but I had no idea you two weren't traveling anymore! How long has it been?" She was reminding me of the popular girls at school who only cared about gossiping.

I hugged my knees tightly against me. "…I haven't seen him since Norrington let us go."

Lizzie gasped. "But that was over a year ago! How could –?"

"Elizabeth," Will interrupted firmly. Lizzie obediently shut up. I nodded gratefully at Will and squeezed my eyes shut, feeling a lump come to my throat.

There was silence for a few minutes, filled only with the sounds of Will's buckled shoes hitting the floor. He sighed quietly. "This doesn't make any sense. If setting Jack free is a crime, then why weren't we arrested earlier?"

"Because Beckett needs us," I answered. "He's got a goal in mind, and he can't reach it without Jack – or rather, something Jack has. But seeing as Jack's gone AWOL, M.I.A, and otherwise not around, Beckett's using his closest friends as tools to find him."

Lizzie's face was scrunched up with the effort of figuring this out. "But why does he need Jack? And what goal is he trying to reach?"

I let go of my knees and stretched out to a more comfortable position. "I don't wanna say too much now, but don't worry. Beckett will explain once we get dropped off at his office."

"…what?"

I opened my mouth to clarify, but I was interrupted by the sound of footsteps. A wigged officer and two marines came down the stairs and stood at attention in front of our cell. One had two pairs of shackles dangling at his side; all three had guns.

"Mr. Turner and Miss Cooper," the officer said sharply. "Lord Beckett requires your presence at the East India Company Office immediately." One marine stepped forward, took a ring of keys from the officer (I miss the dog…), and unlocked our cell.

"Cool!" I said cheerfully, standing up. "I like it when I'm right!" I was a bit more mentally prepared this time and reluctantly allowed myself to be shackled, deciding to save the torture for Beckett.

Will, however, did not share in my go-quietly-now-be-a-pain-in-the-ass-later attitude. "What about Elizabeth?"

"Lord Beckett specifically requested you two only," the officer drawled, sounding bored.

"I'm not leaving without Elizabeth!" Will protested firmly.

"Come on, Will," I urged quietly. "She'll be okay. Just come on." Will hesitated and looked back at Lizzie, but nodded sadly. He exited the cell and was shackled.

"Will!" Lizzie whimpered. She left the ledge and knelt down beside the door.

Will awkwardly did the same, looking helpless. "I'll find a way out of this," he said quietly. "I promise."

"Please be careful," Lizzie whispered.

"Come on, then, Turner!" one of the marines snapped.

"Shh!" I hissed. "Don't ruin the Willabeth!" The marine blinked confusedly. Will gave Elizabeth one last look, stood up, and was led up the stairs by the first marine. I was led up by the second marine, and the officer followed behind.

I sighed exasperatedly. "He ruined the Willabeth."

Strangely enough, Will and I had the luxury of riding in a carriage to Beckett's office. Good thing, too – the office was all the way on the other side of town, and I'd had enough of walking around this crazy city. The office itself looked an awful lot like a museum – an overly large, complex building with tons of security and guys with hidden weapons. Will and I were led out of the carriage and into the building, the other guards giving us dirty looks. Will was too busy gawking at the building (with a very, "How the hell have I never noticed this?!" look on his face), so I took it upon myself to return the glares.

Beckett's office was at the end of a long, high-ceilinged corridor. The door was a dull mahogany color, and the words, "Lord Cutler Beckett – East India Company Chairman" were engraved in big gold letters. Oh, yeah…definitely compensating for something.

"Chairman?" Oh, come on, no use sweetening it – everyone knows he's practically a king.

But instead of a crown, he wears a taco hat.

Heh…nice.

The officer cleared his throat loudly and rapped his knuckles on the door, the sound echoing through the hall. At the response, "Come in," the officer pushed open the door and marched inside, dragging Will with him. I was shoved in after.

Beckett's office was pretty large, with one side leading to a balcony that overlooked the docks. One wall had been devoted to an enormous map of the world, on which a cartographer was currently working. There was a fireplace on yet another wall, with a roaring fire despite the heat and humidity. Feeling a light twinge in the scar I'd received four years ago, I instinctively inched away from the fireplace. There were several tables and chairs in the room, and a large desk was strewn with paper and quill pens. A small bottle of liquor and three glasses rested on the corner of the desk. Beckett himself was speaking with Mercer near the back, showing him a piece of paper.

"Lord Beckett, the prisoners as ordered, sir," the officer announced smartly.

"Those won't be necessary," Beckett said quietly. The officer frowned but nodded at the marines, who hastily unlocked the shackles. I rubbed my wrists thankfully, noting the red marks with a stab of anger. Beckett nodded at Mercer, who snapped his fingers once. He, the marines, and the cartographer exited, leaving us alone with Beckett.

It suddenly occurred to me how short Beckett was – he was about a head shorter than Will, and probably only came up to my nose. I clamped a hand over my mouth, giggling silently. Not the opportune moment for outright mockery.

Beckett raised an eyebrow. "Is anything the matter, Miss Cooper?"

I shook my head quickly. "No…no, just a cough." Will shot me a warning look.

Satisfied with my answer, Beckett moved across the room to his desk and began to pour drinks. "This may be of some help," he said, offering me a glass.

I stared at him coldly. "No, thank you. I don't drink anything served by people who want to kill me."

Beckett nodded thoughtfully. "A wise course…but not, perhaps, for every situation." His gaze swept between me and Will. "The East India Trading Company has need of your services." He offered the glass to Will, who only stared at it. Taking the hint, Beckett replaced the glass and started walking to the fireplace. "We wish for the two of you to act as our agents –"

"And by 'we,' you mean 'you?'" I cut in coolly.

Beckett glanced over his shoulder at me. "It's not polite to interrupt, you know," he pointed out, and I felt my cheeks redden. "Now, as I was saying, we wish for you to represent the Company in a business transaction with our mutual friend, Captain Sparrow." He bent down and pulled something out of the fire.

"More acquaintance than friend," Will corrected.

"Speak for yourself," I muttered.

Will gave me another warning glare before going on. "How do you know him?"

"We've had dealings in the past…and we've each left our mark on the other." He held the object up, and even though his back was to us, even Will knew what it was – a long black poker with a red-hot, P-shaped design at one end. My fists clenched. You bastard…

"What mark did he leave on you?" Will asked curiously. Beckett didn't answer, and I bit back another laugh (I did not, of course, know the actual mark; the writers had not specified. There was, however, a popular theory involving Beckett's masculinity…heh-heh-heh).

Beckett replaced the poker and started walking back towards us. "By your efforts, Jack Sparrow was set free. I would like the two of you to go to him and recovery a certain property in his possession." He picked up the glass and drained it. "I believe you are aware of the property I am speaking of, Miss Cooper?"

I fought the urge to pull the dagger out of my boot and stab him. "…yes, as a matter of fact. I also know that it is far too valuable to be away from its rightful owner for too long."

"Ah," Beckett answered. "That may become an issue, for the only way to secure your freedom is if the item in question is recovered and brought back here."

I was all set for an argument, but Will interrupted again. "Recover…at the point of a sword?"

Beckett shot him a mock-horrified look. "Bargain." He crossed the room once again and opened a small box on his desk bearing the EITC insignia. He turned back towards us and held up the contents – what looked like a dark-brown checkbook, but inclosing something far more valuable to the plot. "Letters of Marque," Beckett explained.

Will shot me a questioning look out of the corner of his eye. "Letters of Marque are basically an official pardon for a severe crime like piracy," I explained quietly. Whoa, wait a second…so how come Will and I didn't get them when we were granted clemency?

Because continuity's a bitch.

"Precisely," Beckett said to me, walking back over yet again. "You will offer what amounts to a full pardon. Jack will be free – a privateer in the employ of England."

I snorted. "You obviously don't know Jack very well. He's got freedom now, and there's a big difference between freedom and employment."

Beckett smiled and made a face that implied he was trying not to laugh. "Freedom…" He walked out to the balcony, motioning for us to follow. "Jack Sparrow is a dying breed. The world is shrinking, the blank edges of the map filled in." I involuntarily looked back at the map. "Jack must find his place in the New World, or perish. Not unlike you, Mr. Turner," he added to Will. "You, your young friend here, and your fiancée face the hangman's noose."

Will thought for a moment. "So you get Jack and the Black Pearl?"

Beckett frowned. "The Black Pearl?"

Will frowned as well. "The property you want that he possesses?"

Beckett chuckled. "A ship? Hardly. The item in question is considerably smaller and far more valuable. Something Sparrow keeps on his person at all times."

Will looked over at me, and I exhaled slowly. "The compass." Recognition shone on Will's face.

"Ah, you know it," Beckett murmured. He leaned in a little closer to us. "Bring back that compass, or there's no deal." He went back into the office.

"Okay," I said after a moment, following him. "No deal."

Beckett seemed to finally have been caught off guard. "I beg your pardon?"

Will was a bit more blunt. "What?" He started to walk in.

"No, Will, you stay there for a minute," I ordered. Will obediently took a few steps back, looking more lost than ever. I lowered my voice so that even Beckett had to strain to hear. "I'm a smart girl, Beckett. I may not have seen Jack for a while, but I know what he's after."

"And what might that be?" Beckett asked in a slightly patronizing tone.

I lowered my voice even further. "The same thing you are: Davy Jones' heart." A flash of realization passed through Beckett's eyes. "You want the heart for power," I went on, "but Jack wants it for survival. Without power of Jones, Jack will face a death much worse than being hanged. If we take his compass, it'll be no different than signing his death warrant. I'm not gonna let that happen."

Beckett was silent for a long time, trying to calculate this new information into his master plan. "I see," he said finally. "Well then, it appears that I'll need to adjust the terms." I felt a prickle of fear at these words, but matched his icy gaze. "Do you know the identity of the man I was speaking with earlier?"

I nodded slowly, not liking where this was going. "Mercer…your assassin."

"You are knowledgeable," Beckett murmured, more to himself than to me. He was silent for another long moment. "That knowledge could be useful…"

"If you're offering what I think you're offering, then I'm not interested," I snapped. "Can we get to the point?"

"Very well, I'll not mince words." He leaned in close to my ear, and his voice became deathly quiet. "Either you help Mr. Turner retrieve the compass, or you'll be left to face a painful death of your own. I will not hesitate in ordering Mr. Mercer to kill you. And the more uncooperative you become, the slower and more painful it will be." He slowly pulled away, smirking.

I froze, feeling panic begin to start up again. Forget being hung – Mercer's killings were cold, cruel, and painful. I thought of Captain Hawkins, Lian and Park, and Governor Swann, and I felt my unsteady breathing morph into hyperventilation. Beckett's smirk widened; he knew he'd won.

No…if I give him the compass, then there'll be no way to stop Jones from getting to Jack…An image of the Kaken dragging down the Pearl appeared in my mind. I took several deep breaths and felt my breathing begin to calm. "Fine then," I said softly to Beckett. "Do your worst. I'd never betray Jack, no matter how much pain you put me through!"

Beckett did not look surprised. "Hmm…are you certain you can handle pain so easily? Because I am not yet convinced." I nervously took a step backwards. "I believe a demonstration of your tolerance may be necessary…" Beckett said thoughtfully. He looked at me, then at Will, and finally towards the door. "I'd rather hoped it would not come to this," he sighed. "Guards!"

The door slammed open and five marines burst into the room, including the three that had escorted us here. "Lord Beckett! What has happened?" The wigged officer puffed.

Beckett looked at them calmly. "It appears, gentlemen, that we have a pirate in our presence that has yet to be properly punished for her crimes. I trust you know what to do?"

"Yes, sir!" all five said sharply. They quickly darted across the room. Before I could do more than gasp, two marines had forced me to my knees and were gripping onto my arms like a steel trap. Another two had done the same to Will, who had his teeth bared and was struggling vainly. The officer stood in front of the door, pointing a gun at me.

I clenched my teeth and attempted to stand up, but the marines pushed me down again. "Let go of me!" I yelled. "Beckett, what the hell are you doing?"

Beckett strode back over to the fireplace. "Seeing if your threshold for pain is truly as high as you say it is." He pulled a poker out of the fire…my heart stopped. The piracy brand.

"No!" I screamed, giving in to blind terror. "Get that away from me! Don't touch me with that!" I felt the marines' grip tighten. One of them forced my right arm forward.

"Leave her alone!" Will shouted at Beckett.

"This does not concern you, Mr. Turner," Beckett replied softly. He slowly crossed the room, brandishing the red-hot poker like a sword.

For a moment, my vision was blinded by the image of bright orange flames licking hungrily at the air around me, burning my house to the ground, snatching my parents away from me…"Stop! Please!"

Beckett's expression didn't change. "Stop? I'm afraid I can't do that, Miss Cooper. This does appear to be the only way to get you to cooperate." He smiled wryly. "It's nothing personal. It's just good business."

That tore it. I squeezed my eyes shut and screamed even louder than before. I vaguely heard Will call out my name before white-hot, burning pain pierced my skin…the smell of burning flesh seeped into my nostrils…and now it wasn't just my arm, but my leg, too…it felt like the scar had split open…oh, God, please make it stop, make it stop, I'll do anything, please…

Through the agony, I heard Beckett's voice whispering in my ear. "Understand, Miss Cooper, that if you can not handle this sort of pain, then you'll be begging for death by the time Mercer's halfway finished with you."

I'm begging for death now! Please, Beckett, please stop it…stop the burning…

"Now, I'll ask you once more: will you recover the compass from Sparrow?"

"Y…y…yes," I choked out. I thought I heard Beckett chuckle coldly before everything seemed to disappear all at once. My vision darkened, and I heard somebody scream before sinking into the blackness.