A/N: Although I haven't been getting the most massively massive amount of reviews, I'm still happy that I've got some. Thanks to SunAndMoon16, ninjalover13, and Lady Elizabeth Beckett once again for the reviews. Your reviews are what keep me going!

Disclaimer: I don't own Pirates of the Caribbean. Neither do I own the lovely characters presented herein. Except maybe any OFCs.

Warnings: None. Just the usual slight swearing.

Chapter Three

Bargain.

"Land ho!" came the cry from the crow's nest. A joyful cry which meant that Port Royal had finally been reached. After weeks of traveling at sea, Lord Beckett had to admit that he was starting to get tired of the Endeavour, beautiful as she was. And the lack of a personal attendant (like Mercer) was simply depressing. He didn't trust (nor like) any of the guards enough to let them hang about in his office while he did his leisurely work. He would have to get another right-hand man, which was a little annoying. There really was no other man like Mercer—no one nearly as cold-blooded and willing to kill, yet so damn good at it. And quite a good clerk, too, if not for the questionable sense of moral. But to be honest, Beckett preferred the lack of black-and-white moral on Mercer's part. He didn't need some pompous, religious idiot whispering into his ears about the repercussions of his sins, especially during that mass hanging. Besides, suspension of basic human rights was necessary in emergencies. And an emergency it had been. It had been for pirates, for God's sake—a bunch of plunderers, rapists, thieves, and smelly scallywags who ought to take a few more baths.

At least, that was how Beckett viewed the matter. But that wasn't really relevant—they had finally reached land. He got up from his seat and found his legs wobbling just a tad, but he hid it well (although there was no one in the room to impress) as he maneuvered out from his desk and grabbed his cane. Walking over to the doors, he flung them open and headed out through the hallway, up the stairs to the deck.

A light breeze caressed his face as he stepped into the open air. The salty smell of the ocean filled his nostrils—but mingled with the familiar scent of commerce and business from Port Royal (a fragrance he much liked). The EITC sailors around him were beginning to pack up the Endeavour, putting everything into a proper place. The ship would have to be repaired, fixed, and fine-tuned before the next voyage, considering all the wear and tear she had been through.

"Sir!" said the soldier who had entered his office before as he came running up to Beckett with a quick salute. "What shall we do with the prisoners, sir?"

Beckett looked about a bit. "Properly shackle them and bring them off the ship with us. Keep them imprisoned. And do not forget my instructions in terms of Sparrow. Although… I would like to take personal custody of Ms. Swann."

The soldier did not question this order, odd as it seemed. Nobody questions the Lord Beckett. "Yes, sir," he said and ran off to relay the word.

"Alright, Ms. Swann; you're coming with us," said the soldiers as they walked up to Elizabeth's cell. She was the last one in the brig, and it had been quiet for a while after Barbossa had left.

She looked up at them, still curled into fetal position, her stomach still roaring with hunger. She gathered her ebbing strength and managed to snap back, "I believe I told you it was Ms. Turner."

The soldiers ignored her comment and dragged her out from the cell, shackling her wrists. She was tired of being thrown around like some kind of rag doll. And she was tired of losing people. Her father. James. Will. Each memory hit her heart like a shard of a broken glass mirror, and she had to hold back choked sobs. She was not going to lose Jack. And—she wouldn't lose herself, either.

They hauled her up the stairs. Emerging onto the deck, she found herself face-to-face with the one man she had always wished to see …dead. Narrowing her eyes, she avoided the urge to spit at Cutler Beckett. Instead, she merely said, "And what do you have planned for me, Lord Beckett?"

There was a pause as Beckett seemed intrigued in the button of his frock coat again. Elizabeth was perturbed. Did he always find it necessary to belittle her by finding his clothing more interesting than her words? He glanced up at her and said in his usual haughty tone, "Patience is a virtue. You'll find out what is in store for you soon enough, Ms. Swann."

"Turner," Elizabeth spat. The blob of spit hit Beckett's boot.

He stared at the ugly blemish with a nonchalant expression, but Elizabeth could see the curdling disgust in his eyes. Beckett looked back up at her. "You've caught onto the pirates' unsanitary habits, I see." The way he said pirates was similar to the way one would say rat.

She gazed back at him with a hard stare. He looked bemused. Fine, then. This time he wouldn't be able to kindle explosive reactions from her. Clever girl, Beckett thought to himself lightly. She was not nearly as stupid as she seemed. She had the basic human capability of learning from one's own past mistakes.

Beckett turned to a nearby soldier. "Please see to it that Ms. Turner here is properly bathed and clothed by supper. I would hate for her to muck up the household with her grime." With that brief comment, he turned and walked off the Endeavour.

Elizabeth blinked and turned to the soldier. "Household?" she said incredulously. "Where am I being taken? Not a prison?"

The soldier glanced at her. "The Lord Beckett gave orders for you to be taken into his personal custody."

She blinked once again, confused. What did he have planned for her? As she mulled it over, walking off the Endeavour, her heart skipped a beat. Surely he was not planning to do that….

Her trousers, hat, and waistcoat sat in a dirty heap in the corner of the bedroom. The massive Beckett household was quite alluring, yet each and every immaculate corner reminded her of its owner, and she couldn't help but feel slightly repelled. She wondered, briefly, whose bedroom this was. A guest bedroom, most likely, but it showed signs of recent usage. She hoped that the person who had used it was still… well, alive. Beckett considered, of course.

Elizabeth looked at herself in the mirror. If she hadn't known better, she would have thought herself the same, clean, beautiful, rich governor's daughter she had always been. A bath had cleansed her of every smidgen of dirt upon her filthy bodice, and she thought with dismay that Beckett had been right: she was grimy and would have mucked up the beautiful home.

She ran her fingers over the smooth silk of the skirt. She wondered whose dress this was, as well. Surely there wasn't a Lady Beckett, was there?

A small smile played her lips. Just the thought of a Lady Beckett made her grin. Of what she had seen of Cutler, he seemed heartless and completely incapable of the passionate, honest force of love. Any Lady Beckett would surely be a most miserable one.

She was still gazing at her own reflection when a knock sounded from the door. "Ms… Turner?" said a hesitant maid's voice, "The Lord Beckett would like an update on your status."

Elizabeth paused and turned to the door. She swiftly walked over to it and opened it. "I'm ready," she said haughtily. The maid nodded and began to lead her through the hallways of the household. As she walked, she quickly began to remind herself of the basic etiquette that she had so brashly abandoned over the years of spending time with Jack and the crew.

They ended up in front of a pair of very pristine French doors. Like everything else in the Beckett household, they were perfect and gave off even more of that same stale, rich air. The maid opened up the door for Elizabeth, and she walked inside, looking left and right.

The dining room was spacious and grand—just like everything else in this damn house. A crystal chandelier hung from the painted, ornate ceiling, and a long, wooden dining table sat in the middle, atop a deep green rug. A vast assortment of food sat upon the table, and at the head of it sat Cutler Beckett. Elizabeth made sure to take note that she and he were the only people in the room.

She tilted her chin up, although she knew it was redundant—Beckett was such a short man, anyway! She carried herself with a self-absorbed air as she sat herself quietly at a seat that was neither far nor close to the Lord.

"You needn't try so hard," he drawled as he regarded her with his icy, stony-blue eyes. "You and I both know your nature."

For some reason, Elizabeth was temporarily reminded of her dinner with Barbossa, back when he was the skeletal—yet immortal—captain of the Black Pearl. "There's no need to stand on ceremony, nor call to impress anyone. You must be hungry," he had said as he'd watched her eat daintily. And then she had dug in ravenously. She remembered the sort of relish Barbossa had derived from that experience, and she hated it. She was not going to grant Beckett that same liberty. Granted, she did indeed have an audience with him now; the self-starving vow was unnecessary. But she did not want to humor the Lord.

Yet still Beckett stared. Observing her. Probing her with his eyes. Around him, she always felt as though she was being watched closely, her every mannerism being dissected and scrutinized. And she hated it. Oh, she hated it. Her stomach hissed, snapped, growled, screamed. Her salivary glands generated an enormous amount of spit. Her hand slowly moved for the bread roll.

Beckett watched.

Elizabeth froze. She glanced at him. The tense atmosphere was suffocating, she thought to herself frustratingly. Finally, she succumbed to her hunger and grabbed the damn bread roll, stuffing it into her mouth, ignoring any etiquette as she chewed ravenously, her mouth not even closed, showing the nasty mush upon her tongue.

Beckett smiled.

She snatched the wine glass and did not even bother to daintily tilt it, instead practically turning it on its side, dumping the contents into her mouth. She swallowed with a loud gulp and grabbed her fork, snatching up a slice of ham and stuffing it whole into her mouth. She hardly even chewed it, either, and then down her gullet it went. It was so delicious. For the past few months, all she had eaten were things that the Pearl had cooked up—and it was gross. This was the feast that she had grown up with. And it was delectable, mouth-watering, delicious, perfect—

"Please do slow down, Ms. Turner. It is extremely unhealthful to eat so hastily after such a long period of starvation," Beckett said smoothly. Yet there was no sincere concern in his words—merely bemusement. He took a slice of ham, himself, and began neatly cutting it with a knife, placing the small piece into his mouth and chewing slightly.

Elizabeth glared at him. "I am enjoying this meal while I still can," she snapped, "as I am not so stupid to believe that this is the same treatment I will be receiving for long."

"That you are correct," Beckett responded. "Within a fortnight's time, I hope to set sail again with the Endeavour and her fleet. You will accompany." It was a command, not an imploration.

"For what purpose?" Elizabeth inquired incredulously. "The war is practically won. You yourself need not attend to the scuffles personally. You have the Pirate King here in the flesh. You have the Lords of the Caspian and Caribbean Seas. And why would I come along?"

Beckett gazed at her and said softly, "And who is to supply information of the Pirate Lords' whereabouts?"

Then Elizabeth understood. Everything seemed to click. He needed her, she realized. But not only her. There was also Jack and Barbossa—and that meant she was actually quite disposable. She was playing a dangerous game, and she would have to win it. Because that was the only option.

Narrowing her eyes, she said, "So you plan for me to go only because of the information I hold. Why, then, should I not just tell you now, and not accompany you on the voyage?"

"Because then you become completely untrustworthy," Beckett responded in a clipped tone. "If you are not on the ship, then there is no way for me to immediately reprimand you should your words be absent of truth. It is simply only logical to bring you along."

Elizabeth nodded. Sound logic. "So then both of us are to go on this voyage," she said softly. "And what will become of the crew of the Pearl? Jack? Barbossa? Pintel and Ragetti?" Although they were nothing but rotten pirates, she felt a smidgen of concern for them. Well, Jack especially. And Barbossa had wed her and Will (short-termed as that may have been). She would not abandon even the monkey-obsessed captain.

Beckett paused. "And what interest are they to you?" he asked silkily, gazing at Elizabeth, awaiting her answer.

She flushed a bit, realizing that she had spoken too much. Beckett was going to pick out every single one of her weaknesses and relationships, she realized. She had already doomed Jack, she thought to herself with dismay. And now she'd doomed Barbossa and the crew.

Beckett smirked. "Jack Sparrow faces the hangman's noose and little more. You needn't worry about him."

Her heart skipped a beat. No, no. Not another loss. "No!" she shouted, and then flushed even deeper as Beckett's brows lifted at her brief, yet apparent outburst. "No," she added more quietly in a somewhat-controlled manner. "Surely Jack serves a purpose to you. He's certainly been in the Brethren Court for much longer than me. And—and—he's very valuable as leverage to them. Very valuable." She paused, and then blurted, "More than me."

Beckett looked intrigued. Taking a brief sip of wine, he said, "Oh? And how so?"

Elizabeth chewed her lip. She was killing herself, she realized. But Jack had saved her life so many times. She had to pay him back. She had to. "The… Captain Teague," she said quickly. "Captain Teague is… Jack's father," she added. She wasn't even sure if it was true, but from the way she had seen Jack react, she knew there had to be something like that between them.

"Captain Teague," Beckett repeated slowly. But the name was just a name. Nothing of value to him. There was nothing attached to it, nothing to make it meaningful. Nothing to draw a face onto the puppet.

"He's the Keeper of the Code. The Pirate Codex," Elizabeth said quickly, just spouting out information now. "He… is extremely prominent in the Brethren Court. Very. If you have Jack, then you have a very good leverage tool against the Court. They will have no choice but to comply."

Beckett snorted softly with a small smile. "You judge them wrongly, Ms. Turner," he said quietly, but darkly. "They are naught but a bunch of selfish, squabbling pirates. They would sooner save their own skin than even deign to turn themselves over for the sake of Jack Sparrow, 'prominent' as he may be."

Elizabeth gnawed at her tongue incessantly. "Well," she said, and then stopped talking. She thought her situation over. Ideas tumbled through her head, and she struggled to twist and turn them into something coherent. Finally, she spoke again. "I…would like to strike a bargain with you, Lord Beckett."

"Would you?" Beckett asked with a slight cock of one brow. Now this was an interesting development. He had so clearly caught Ms. Turner up—in a lie, no less! Of course he wasn't planning on killing Sparrow; he'd have no leverage on her! But letting out that kind of detail turned to be very useful—after all, she had just spouted her guts out on essential information on the Brethren Court. Rather gullible, Beckett noted to himself on the subject of Elizabeth Turner.

Elizabeth nodded just a slight. She was aware that she had already just dug her own grave, but she no longer cared. "I, personally, will give you heading to each of the Pirate Lords' locations. Once we have completed the journey, however, you will release me, as well as Jack Sparrow, Barbossa, and the rest of the Black Pearl's crew. And we will have the Pearl. And you will not chase us. Or try to imprison us."

Beckett studied Elizabeth with his watchful eyes. It was not, by any means, a particularly bad bargain, but it was not very skillful, either. He surmised that she was honest, and there was no ulterior motive on her part. She looked so desperate, anyways. He hesitated a bit, and then said, "Deal. We have ourselves a bargain, Ms. Turner."

Elizabeth grimaced.

A/N: Phew. Now things are starting to pick up a bit! I hope everyone is still in-character. XD; Thank you so much to all the reviewers! Though the amount is a little meager, it's enough to brighten my day.