A/N: Alright! I'm back from my vacation in New Jersey! Thanks again to all my lovely reviewers for sticking with me through all these chapters: Mistress Beckett, ninjalover13, Countcresent, Lady Elizabeth Beckett, S'mana, and Isen-norden-ss. I love you all! And I am SOOOO sorry for the wait. But if it weren't for the two new reviewers, I probably would not even have updated. I promise to make the updates way faster now and hope that you're still reading this story!

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

Warnings: The usual language. Little mention of blood. Beckett mudslinging from a certain character, too. xD

Chapter Fifteen

Peerage.

"Wot? Wot do y'mean, Tortuga's been taking by the Company?" Jack yelled as he raced over to the edge, staring out at the pier. A look of horror was plastered onto his face.

"Exactly as I said," Teague responded as he gazed out as well. "Looks like even Tortuga isn't safe anymore."

Amadi quickly turned the ship around. "We better get out of here. Or else they will kill us."

"Not arguin' with that," Jack mumbled.

Teague, troubled, said, "How about Port Faith?"

Shrugging, Amadi began to steer in that direction. "There are not many other places to go," he admitted, despairing.

Jack's lip curled as he gazed out at Tortuga, which was slowly shrinking with the distance. Taking off his cap, he gave a mournful bow as the last true pirate haven disappeared from sight.

"Sir. We've just searched all of Tortuga. Lord Beckett and Miss Swann are nowhere to be found," reported Gillette to Groves.

The Commodore sighed. "Keep looking. The Duke Bloodwoode has summoned him. We need the Lord Beckett as soon as possible to represent the Company in a business transaction."

"But what if he's dead? We could be searching for nothing," Gillette responded.

"Then even a body would be suitable," Groves answered. "And anyway, at the very least, this wasn't a total waste of effort. We've now captured Tortuga—a festering cesspool of inhumane piracy."

Gillette nodded. "Then what is our next course of action, sir?"

Groves thought for a bit, and then said, "We'll head to Port Royal. Perhaps, after all this time of our absence, the Lord Beckett began to head back there."

"Yes, sir," Gillette saluted and headed off to relay the orders.

Barbossa felt good.

Sitting on a bunch of barrels containing apples, he ate to his heart's content as Gibbs prowled around to make sure that the Company wasn't around, looking for them.

"Aye, it looks like they've retreated, Cap'n. If we're lucky, they won't check our prison cells 'til they're already off from Tortuga," said Gibbs as he settled down into the small storage building.

"Let's not be neglectin' their priorities," Barbossa pointed out nonchalantly as he bit down on another apple. "They'd best be looking for Jack or Beckett right now. Not us."

Gibbs nodded as he walked over to the rum barrel and opened it up forcefully. "Oh, look! Rum's fresh!"

Barbossa rolled his eyes. "Better be a thirsty man than a drunken idiot. This not be the time to drink."

"Why, you don't want some?" Gibbs inquired as he poured his canteen full.

"My liver be wrecked," Barbossa answered wryly. "Comes with me old age," he added with a sardonic chuckle.

Gibbs shrugged and started to drink. "Best be enjoying it while I still can, then."

Beckett dreaded it, but Elizabeth came closer nonetheless. His eyes closed, his body lax, and his breathing slow; all to appear perfectly asleep. She stepped by the bed, straightened out her skirts, and then took a seat on the edge, perched so that her back faced Beckett, concealing her face.

She sighed, and was quiet for a while. Then, Elizabeth lifted up her chin to stare straight ahead at the wall. "You murdered my father," she began softly, seething. "You killed an innocent man whose only desire was to save his daughter." Pausing, she took a deep shuddering breath and continued; "And you interrupted my wedding night with Will. To add to that, as if that wasn't enough, you sent Will after Jack, and see where that got him?"

Then she was silent again.

After the long, pregnant pause, finally, she spoke once more. "You've taken away anyone I'd ever loved and cherished. But then..." Turning her head, Elizabeth gazed at Beckett. Her eyes were full of raw anger—yet so confused. "Then you saved my life." Her hand instantly went to the cut on her arm, which was already healing quickly. "Why?"

Beckett, still attempting to appear asleep, did not answer.

Exhaling, she slipped her shoes off and sprawled out onto the bed, legs still dangling over the edge. "Well, it's not as though you can answer," she muttered. Glancing at him, Elizabeth scrutinized his face and then almost smiled. They say that people look younger in their sleep; and Beckett was no exception. Without that constant bored look on his face, he seemed as blissfully peaceful as a child. She reached forward—and then stopped herself.

What the bloody hell am I doing? She thought to herself incredulously. About to caress his cheek? I must really be out of my mind! Shaking her head, Elizabeth got to her feet and left the room, shutting the door behind her with a soft and gentle click.

Beckett's eyelids fluttered open. He chewed nothing slowly (there was that nervous habit again) as he turned about in the bed, trying to get comfortable. But his wound gnawed at his stomach, and the idea that this was Ms. Swann's bed disturbed him greatly.

This, he decided, was a very poor situation.

Turning to his side, Beckett tried to act calm. But he couldn't. God, it was so... weird. He wanted to run out hollering like Bloody Mary, but his injury restricted his movement. So then what could he do?

Just lie here like a vulnerable, sitting duck?

No. No, no, no, no. He would not be seen pathetic like this, least of all by Ms. Swann! This would not do.

But what could he do?

Elizabeth shut the door behind her and ran her fingers through her hair. Sighing a breath of defeat, her back hit the door and she slid down to the ground until she was on her butt. Wrapping her arms around her knees, she simply sat there and stared out into space, contemplative.

It was a while before someone noticed her.

"Ms. Hall?" said Captain Valor carefully as he approached her, concern flickering in his eyes.

She glanced up at him and then simply looked away. "I'm fine," she mumbled, but her voice was weak.

Valor shook his head and held out a hand. "You are not," he responded firmly. "Please, get up from the ground, Ms. Hall. It's demeaning."

Exhaling, Elizabeth took his hand and got to her feet. "I'm sorry, Captain Valor," she apologized faintly. "I simply am not feeling myself. Perhaps it might be this coastal heat, or the rocking of the ship..."

He nodded in understanding. "I see, then." He paused and then gazed at the door behind her. "How is... Lord Beckett, if I may ask?"

She froze for a moment, and then shook her head. "He's still unconscious. I've not spoken to him."

Valor hesitated. Then, he said, "Are you still sure about this, Ms. Hall? Where are you to sleep while he takes over your bed?"

"Well..." she answered slowly, "I suppose that I could simply wait until he gains consciousness..."

"But surely you need a place to rest while he is out," Valor insisted.

"Are you implying that there is another place to sleep?" she inquired.

He shuffled uncomfortably. "I'm afraid not, Ms. Hall. However, I could sacrifice my room to you, if you desire it."

Elizabeth shook her head. "No, I couldn't do that. Not after all the hospitality you have offered to me already." She straightened out her skirts, smoothing the creases. "I'll just go back to my room for the time being," she sighed and headed back into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

She froze when she saw that Beckett was awake, sitting up, having propped himself against the dashboard.

"You're awake" she screeched, unable to keep the rage from her tone.

He flinched temporarily before responding tiredly, "Yes, I am."

"And here I was thinking that you were unconscious," Elizabeth snapped placidly. "Get out!" she snarled. "Get out of my bed!" Ignoring his facial protests, she grabbed him by the shoulders and began to drag him out from her bed. But when he audibly winced, she hesitated.

Small spatters of blood were growing on his side. She had reopened the wound in her brashness. Beckett's hand flew to his abdomen, weakly attempting to cover it.

"Oh! My goodness! I'm so sorry!" Elizabeth breathed instantly. She had completely forgotten about that cut in her irritation. Hastily, she tucked him back under the bedcovers. "Are you alright?"

"Not anymore, no," Beckett responded dryly, the strength returning to his voice, smoothing out the rough voice.

"I'm sorry," Elizabeth apologized again. "I was acting rashly. I apologize."

He readjusted his position to feel more comfortable, but it did no good. His mind was dizzied and dull, and he felt rather disoriented no matter what he did. Exhaling, he asked, "Where is this, Ms. Swann?"

She bit her lower lip. "We're on Captain Valor's ship, my Lord. On the way to Port Royal." She didn't know why she was starting to use respectful terms, either... perhaps she felt sorry for him?

And then Beckett remembered. "Valor's ship, you say," he said softly. "Ms. Swann, were we not intended to leave together?"

She cringed. "Well, yes, but..."

"After I saved your life," he murmured, "you abandoned me at that island to die. Didn't you?"

"I..." her voice trailed off feebly. "I... I'm..."

Beckett sighed. "I suppose I was wrong to trust you, after all, Ms. Swann."

She shifted stiffly. "Well, I..." Shaking her head quickly, Elizabeth justified herself defensively, "I was angry at the time. My own fury clouded my judgment, I'll admit. But I'm not angry anymore. I know now that it was foolish of me to act that way before. Alright?"

He simply shot her an irritated glare.

"Um," she muttered, and then inquired, "If I may ask, my Lord, how exactly did you end up in the water with that wound?"

Beckett looked away, staring intently instead at the bare wooden walls. "Were it not for your abandonment, Ms. Swann, I would not have even ended up this way, and we would both be on a healthy trip to Port Royal."

"Yes, I know," she hissed. "You've said it quite enough. Now tell me what happened."

"Well," he began, "since it was clear that you had betrayed me, I instead went to meet a friend of mine—Maiara, sister of Calypso. She then, err..." his voice trailed off. No need to mention the commandeering part. A little lie won't hurt, he thought to himself as he continued briskly, "She then, ah, assisted me in bargaining for a ship, after which the crew needlessly led a munity and threw me overboard."

" Needlessly' mutinied?" Elizabeth repeated mockingly, but with a lighthearted overtone. "I doubt they mutinied against you without reason. You must have done something to annoy them."

"Oh? Such as what, if you would humor me, Ms. Swann?" Beckett responded in smoothly irritated tones.

"You tend to annoy people without meaning it, to be honest, my Lord," Elizabeth admitted jokingly, unable to suppress a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Beckett groaned and buried his face in his hands. "Ms. Swann," he said, exasperated, "at times, I really do doubt your upbringing."

She laughed. "My upbringing? Well, if mine seems so bad, then what was your upbringing like, Beckett?"

He didn't even bother correcting her lack of title usage this time. "Fine," he responded vaguely and a little too quickly.

"Come on, aren't you the one who always appreciates specificity? Don't be so vague," she urged, grinning.

"If you really must know, then, Ms. Swann, I had a proper upbringing, just as I'm sure you did," he answered mildly. Then he seemed about done with speaking, but just as Elizabeth was about to open her lips, he continued in a gentle voice, "It was, of course, not of as a high class as yours."

Elizabeth found herself stopped goofing off for some reason, actually finding herself interested in his words as Beckett elaborated, "My father was a rude and impudent man, to be frank. He spent more time enjoying himself by frolicking with other women and bathing in the profit of his company rather than assisting in the recovery of his often sickly family members. Even as they lay dying upon their very own deathbeds..." Beckett's monologue died away after that statement, as if he no longer desired to speak. Then he shook his head slowly and muttered, "It's not important, Ms. Swann, my upbringing. The point is that regardless of my foolish family and the horrid example my father set, I myself became a peer of my own right—and a lord no less. And that, Ms. Swann, is why I am the Lord Beckett."

Elizabeth blinked. Beckett's upper-class accent and seemingly rich mannerisms had always seemed to her as proof of his regal blood, yet now it was clear that there was no regal blood, no hereditary passage of peerage. Simply just peerage by one's own merit. And my, was it difficult to gain recognition without any blood priority.

Suddenly, the little Lord seemed so much larger now.

"Duke Bloodwoode, sir. We've received the reply from Commodore Groves," the messenger reported hastily.

The young adult—seemingly in his twenties, if not even younger—shuffled about in his chair. His blonde hair was tied into a small ponytail, as large as a shrimp. Chartreuse-azure eyes gazed at the letter before him, rolling across the text, taking in the information with relative quickness. Duke Bloodwoode was wearing an elaborate black frock coat with golden embroidered designs and mother-of-pearl button clasps. His waistcoat was a deep turquoise shade that stood out strongly against his white breeches. He lazily change positions as he slowly placed the letter down.

"Cutler Beckett is missing," he announced matter-of-factly to no one in particular. "So are Derrick Parker and Elizabeth Swann—the three most crucial members to that particular EITC fleet."

The messenger remained quiet, not sure as to whether he should speak or not.

Duke Bloodwoode continued without the messenger's response regardless. "That's troublesome, isn't it? At first, I'd thought it'd only be James Norrington to worry about... but now Cutler Beckett's gone off and disappeared with little Ms. Swann, hm? Could that be some kind of indication of an affection between them?" He mused aloud, and then chuckled lightly. "Well, not that it matters. Mr. Beckett might be rich, and a peer, but he isn't handsome, or particularly charismatic... I daresay I've still got a good run for Ms. Swann, haven't I?"

The messenger still did not respond, afraid to be reprimanded if he spoke out of turn.

"Are you even listening to me, you damned dolt?" Duke Bloodwoode roared suddenly, shattering his image of composure, causing the messenger to jump.

"Y-yes, sir! I am! Sorry," he stuttered.

Calming down instantly, as quickly as he had been kindled, Bloodwoode smiled. "Good. Then I will arrange a meeting with Ms. Swann instantly upon her return. She will be returning, of course. Even if the EITC does not find her."

What is that supposed to mean? The messenger thought to himself incredulously.

And as if reading his mind, the duke clarified, "And by that, I mean that I will send out my own fleet to find her if I must."

"Yes, sir. Of course," the messenger said quickly.

"Good to see you understand," Bloodwoode said, pleased. "Keep me posted on the subject of Ms. Swann's whereabouts, if you would. And hopefully, if I'm lucky, Cutler Beckett will end up dead."

A/N: This... took... forever, despite being such a brief chapter. And truly, it really is all my fault that it's so late; no excuses are to be had. Huge thanks to all you reviewers, who keep me going no matter how down and demotivated I get. I've also started a new story called Almost, which, undoubtedly, is also getting in the way of this. But don't worry: Freedom and Justice is still my main priority no matter what.

I'm starting to introduce in our new antagonist, the Duke Bloodwoode. I hope you'll like him, hahaha. And, plus, the Elizabeth/Beckett relationship is really starting to grow now—in this chapter, you can see her talking almost lightheartedly with him, and he seems to be opening up a bit... though that's probably because the blood loss is clouding his judgment. ;)

Also, I've finished reading The Price of Freedom by AC Crispin, so you'll start seeing things from that being incorporated into this story. It's a really awesome book, by the way, especially for any of you Beckett fans out there, hohoho.

But in all seriousness, I wouldn't even be surprised if some of you just... stopped reading because of my writing pace. Again, I'm so sorry; I'll try to pick up the pace back to what it was when this story first began (that is, a new chapter every other day or so, muhahaha. School's almost out anyways).

One last thing—if you want this story to continue, please review! Even if it's only a sentence or two, it means a lot to me. And as you can see, the two recent reviewers are the only reason why I probably even put this chapter up before 2012. ;_;

Anyways, thanks so much for reading! I really love you all and you are all so great for reading this. (: