A/N: Well, I'm glad that it seems to people that Jack was quite in-character. He and Barbossa are quite difficult to write, to be honest. XD Anyway, huge, grateful, special thanks to my lovely readers and reviewers: g, SunAndMoon16, Lady Elizabeth Beckett, ninjalover13, ShesASuperFreak317, and Cap'n Jackie Sparrow. Thank you so much, guys! This one's for you! Also, for Cap'n Jackie Sparrow: thanks much about the feedback on my characterization! I'm hugely relieved to see that Jack and Beckett are in-character and their lines are all good. XD

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

Warnings: A horrendously written French accent within.

Chapter Six

Letter.

"The Hearte of Zerzura was not far, we surmised, and it would be amonge the Golde and Gem..." Elizabeth's eyes read as they raced across the page. Her mind sucked in all the incoming information as she envisioned the lush settings in her head. The thick brush of Zerzura, the misty fog, the nasty wound on Captain Ward's shoulder, the buzz of insect nests, the thick and humid air... Just as she was about to turn the page, though, a voice rung through the library.

"Good evening, Ms. Swann. I trust you have been enjoying yourself?" said Beckett as he approached her.

She quickly dog-eared the page—noting the look of disgust crossing Beckett's face—and got up from the lounge chair. "Yes, I have. Especially due to your absence," she said indignantly, though she was smiling and of good humor.

Beckett smirked wryly. Then he seized the book from Elizabeth and opened up to the dog-eared page. After a brief moment of his eyes scanning over the words, he creased out the ear and said a soft "Ah". Walking towards a bookshelf, he snatched an oak bookmark and slipped it into the pages. "So what do you think of Captain Ward's tale?" he inquired as he ran his fingers over the cover, eyes intent on the book rather than on his prisoner.

"It's intriguing," Elizabeth responded distantly. She did not want to admit just how much she had enjoying the little, worn book.

Beckett looked up from the volume. "Treasure and riches do not interest you?" he inquired conversationally.

Elizabeth shrugged. "Can treasure and riches bring back the man I love?"

Beckett smiled. "Good girl," he said quietly. Turning to face her, he said, "Riches no longer interest me, either, Ms. Swann. Currency can only take you so far in the realm of power. My desires are not nearly so provincial."

Elizabeth pursed her lips. Yet again, he was spouting out the same old phrases as before, almost as if he was mocking her. "You want whatever can give you the most power. Don't you?"

He smirked. "Control, Ms. Swann. That is what I desire."

"Control of the seas," she questioned in the tone of a statement.

"The only thing which I have not yet tamed," he elaborated.

"But you can't tame everything," Elizabeth argued gently.

"Can't I?" said Beckett, eyebrows rising.

She gazed at him. Studied him. Gauged him. Judged him. After consideration, she said, "No."

Beckett turned his head a slight. "Britain," he said softly, "is already mine." He walked over to a smaller globe model sitting on a stand by the lounge chair, cut of onyx and silver. Gently running his fingers over the smooth surface, he turned it with one sweep. The globe lazily spun on its axis. "Africa, too. Singapore and India, of course. And all the trade routes to the Orient."

Elizabeth watched, entranced by the globe's turning. Before, she had always thought of how small and weak the Lord Beckett had seemed. Yet now she him so differently. Power, she realized. He exuded power. And that was what had changed the light with which she viewed him.

"America, eventually, I suppose," Beckett added boredly. "Though there is hardly anything there to conquer quite yet, save some few colonies." He stopped the globe's continuous turning. "The Company's influence now spreads worldwide," Beckett noted aloud. "And therefore, my influence is thus... worldwide."

"Do you intend to own the entire world?" Elizabeth asked incredulously. "What, then, when you have everything?"

Beckett did not answer. Perhaps, Elizabeth thought to herself, it was because he did not have an answer. Turning away, he said in a low voice, "We leave on the HMS Pearl Thursday morning. I expect you to be fully prepared by then."

Elizabeth gaped. "Thursday morning? But that's the day after tomorrow!" she exclaimed, exasperated. She did not catch the phrase "HMS Pearl" in the midst of her disbelief.

"So it is," Beckett replied. "Preparations for the fleet anticipate completion by tonight. Tomorrow will be spent straightening out business matters," he said as he left the library, the heels of his boots echoing throughout the room.

Elizabeth swore under her breath, using a term that, earlier, would have merited a reprimand from her father. Her dead father, she reminded herself infuriately. And all Beckett's fault. With a groan, she picked up the book and quickly exited the library.

The Brethren Court had gathered. There was a great lot of squabbling. Bottles cracked, pistols swung, and Captain Teague's music ushered on the fray. One pirate was unconscious on the table, and others were fighting on top of him.

Just as another fight was about to break out, Capitaine Chevalle finally stood up and fired his pistol. The sharp, clear shot rung throughout the hall. The scuffle slowly diminished, and the pirates settled down.

"Zere is nol time to be squabbling!" the French captain exclaimed in his horrendously thick accent as he lowered his gun.

Everyone turned to look at him.

"Trois Pirate Seigneurs have been kidnapped!" Chevalle shouted. "Including ze King!"

Mistress Ching rolled her eyes. "And what did that little girl do in the end?" she hissed. "Get us captured and attacked!"

The pirates roared in agreement.

"Barbossa and Sparrow—gone. Because of Cutler Beckett and our King's blunder!" Ching snarled. "Why should we go back for those fools?"

"Sri Sumbhajee says we flee!" said one of the Indian's assistants.

"To where?" Gentleman Jocard snapped. "Barbossa knows exactly every hideout of ours. If they provoke the man enough, there be no doubt in my mind that he'll tell Beckett all of the locations!"

After more discussion, Sumbhajee's assistant spoke again. "Sri Sumbhajee says that you are a mindless mūrkha! How would you know? That man Beckett has probably hanged Barbossa and Sparrow by this point!"

"Beckett's no fool," Captain Teague cut in gruffly. "He'll keep Jackie and Hector alive. Use them to track us down. And then hang all nine of us together."

The Brethren Court became quiet.

"Just for spite," Teague added. "All nine Pirate Lords standing in a row at the gallows. He'll watch and see which one of us dies out first once the noose is dropped."

After a long silence, someone finally spoke. "So what be you proposing, Cap'n Teague?" said Ammand the Corsair.

Teague stopped plucking at the strings of his little guitar. Heaving a sigh, he said, "We can't fight. That course of action has already been ruled out. A brawl between us and the Company's fleet would wipe out one of them and all of us."

The pirates nodded in assent.

"But we can't stay here, either," he added dryly. "Shipwreck Cove is a fortress, but it's only one fortress. If we all stay here, then all of us go down if they bust through our defenses." Another pause as he considered. Then Teague continued: "And Jocard is right. Hector's a snaky little bastard. If it benefits him, he'll do it. And he won't hesitate to betray our locations if that's what's gonna keep him alive."

Chevalle hesitated, mustering up words. Then he said, "Zen what is our course of action?"

Teague got up from his chair slowly as he said, "Disguise."

"Disguise?" Villanueva repeated.

"Forget that you're Pirate Lords. Disguise yourselves so that you don't even know you're you," Teague said. "And try to live a little lawfully."

More silence from the court.

"Until the Court can be gathered safely again, you're just gonna have to deal with livin' that way," said Captain Teague. "It's either that or certain death."

Then he turned and left.

Elizabeth shuffled around in bed, trying to force herself asleep. Even though this was her third night here, she still wasn't used to sleeping in the Beckett estate. The idea of the Lord Beckett trouncing around in the same house as the one she slumbered in—eugh! It was just weird. And wrong.

She turned and moved about. The house was cold, odd and strange. And she hated it. She wished she could return to her own home, but the Lord Beckett didn't trust her. Not in the least, no.

Shifting onto her side, Elizabeth squirmed over to the book sitting on her little nightstand. She reached out and opened it up to her bookmark. Blinking, she spotted a small slip of paper inserted into the crease. She removed it slowly, hesitantly. Unfolding it, she looked inside. Her eyes darted over the cursive words, sucking in the information written upon the paper slip.

"Dearest Elizabeth;

I sincerely hope you are safe and well. Of what I have heard from the Lord Beckett, it seems that the likes of pirates have taken an interest in you. I hope that this is not so, yet I am aware that there is little I can do for you, endeavour as I may. Please, my darling, please stay out of harm's way. I worry for you—though this I know you know. I have already lost your mother... please do not make me endure the loss of my only daughter, as well.

I sent this letter to you in hopes that you will come back to Port Royal, Elizabeth. I know that the Lord Beckett may not be the most admirable nor kind-hearted of men, yet I promise you that we will be safe under his jurisdiction. Yes, it is true that in Jamaica, there is a bit of riot. The Lord Beckett has signed papers including the decrees to abolish simple, basic, and human rights; habeas corpus and the right to assembly among them. I must wonder what the Lord Beckett offered to Parliament to convince them to allow him these powers. After all, Lord he may be, but he is just the Chairman of the Honourable East India Trading Company, not a governor (though you can clearly see how well the position of "governor" has benefited me here).

Well, these matters cannot be helped, though it is a great shame so. I am not within authority to stop the Lord Beckett. Yet what can be helped is you, Elizabeth. Please come back. And be safe, my darling.

-Your loving father; Weatherby Swann"

Elizabeth's eyes began to cloud with tears. She slowly read the letter again, running her fingers over the parchment, as if it was her father's last legacy. He had cared for her, even in the end. He had done whatever he could to save her, believing her to be in dire need. She folded up the letter cautiously and slipped it into her gown, right by her breast. The tears streaked freely now; she was unable to restrain them.

Then her heart panged. Had Beckett given her the note purposely, to kindle this sort of reaction from her? Was this letter genuine, or had he forged it? Now, she was immediately suspicious of it. And unsure. Yet she was scared to get rid of it, also. It really could be the last of her father.

Elizabeth decided to keep the letter. She would need it to feed her fire for revenge against Beckett, fake or not.

"The fleet is all prepared, now, milord," said the tired officer. "The HMS Pearl is ready to set sail, and have allocated your office appropriately."

"And the stench?" Beckett inquired boredly as his arms were behind his back, his hands together. His eyes gazed out from his windows at the sight of Port Royal. He was in poor spirit; the meeting with Jack had greatly infuriated him. It was odd, how well that man managed to upset him. Nothing else angered him nearly so much, except when people found it most appropriate to vandalize his things (such as that slimy wretch Davy Jones, when he had so precariously broken that expensive teacup during Beckett's pleasant teatime with the late Will Turner). Yet here was Jack Sparrow, prancing around in his drunken and unpredictable manners, saying and doing stupid things. Beckett hated unpredictable people (Davy Jones was a loose cannon, too, he noted to himself). He liked his predictable little chess pieces. He liked when things moved just as he commanded. He liked when his silver strings were perfectly in tune with his dancing marionettes. He liked when his perfect, immaculate puppets recited their lines and performed their acts just as they were scripted.

Jack Sparrow was a rogue, Beckett thought to himself. A rogue in more ways than one.

The officer stuttered. "Th-... the stench, milord?"

"Yes," Beckett said with an impatient undertone. "The stink of scallywags and their rum." Oh, how filthy that Sparrow was! How he had so filthily occupied the Wicked Wench with his uncouth rum and manner!

"Oh," the officer stammered. "W-well, yes. That's mostly gone, milord. Although the hold, where they—the p-pirates—used to store the rum, sir, still contains that foul smell."

Beckett looked dismayed, though his expression hardly changed. "And the damage?"

"We've patched up all the gaps in the hull," the officer replied. "Doors and windows have been replaced, too. The cannons have triple guns. The gunpowder magazine is better protected, too. Overall, a very good tune-up. I daresay we've done a smashing job, milord."

"You had better," Beckett said softly, yet harshly. "I invested quite a large sum of money into the Pearl."

The officer bowed quickly. "Milord. She is better than ever. And still the fastest ship on the seas. Perhaps even faster, now that we have replaced her sails and rudder. She is top-notch, milord."

Beckett smiled, snorting lightly. "Good," he said quietly. "You are dismissed."

"Yes, milord," the officer said, turning and leaving.

Beckett stood there quietly until he was sure that the officer was out of earshot. Then he allowed himself a low, but brief chuckle.

He hated getting too confident. He hated the idea of underestimating and belittling the opponent—such great arrogance, he thought, led to your own downfall. Yet he was so damn close to destroying the very root of piracy that he couldn't help but be almost giddy with excitement.

"Just a little longer," Cutler muttered under his breath. "And the seas will be... mine."

A/N: Oh, Beckett. So ebil. Anyway, sorry about the long wait—school stuff and such; I hope you can relate. Thank you so much for reading, and sorry about the short length! It won't be long until we finally embark on our journey, and that's where all the real fun begins... Anywho, go ahead and drop a review! Make sure to tell me if anything's out-of-character! Especially since I went a little bit deeper into Beckett's head this time than usual.