Raven

The Watch

Beckett took slow steps into his study, and immediately noticed the chest carrying the pardon papers was moved from where he left it last. With a few quick steps he advanced on the chest, lifting the lid to see the pardon papers were gone. 

"No doubt you've discovered that loyalty is no longer the currency of the realm as your father believes." Beckett murmured softly, knowing the only person who remained on the island that knew of the papers was Ms. Elizabeth Swann. 

"Then what is?" She said, stepping out of the shadows behind him, but Beckett didn't bother turning to face her, instead rounding his desk to calmly take a seat behind his desk, finally looking up at her as he gestured to the gold coins splayed across his desk. 

"I'm afraid currency is the currency of the realm." 

"I expect then that was can come to some sort of understanding. I'm here to negotiate." Elizabeth said nervously, twitching with something that she was holding behind her back as she approached his desk. 

"I'm listening." Beckett said, leaning back in his chair to show he wasn't nervous, that is, until Elizabeth pulled a pistol from behind her back, cocked it, and pointed it at his forehead. 

"I'm listening intently." Beckett said seriously, raising his hands in surrender as she got so close that the barrel of the gun almost touched his forehead. She held up the papers, waving them in the air before his face, and he relaxed a little as she looked away form him. 

"These Letters of Marque, they are signed by the King?" She asked, and he nodded. 

"Yes, and they are not valid until they bear my signature and my seal."

"Or else I would not still be here. You sent Will to get you the compass and buy Jack Sparrow, it will do you no good." Elizabeth said confidently, and Beckett cocked an eyebrow at her. 

"Do explain."

"I have been to the Isla de Muerta, I have seen the treasure myself. There is something you need to know." She said all-knowingly, and Beckett smirked, realizing she truly knew nothing at all. 

"Ah, I see. You think the compass leads only to the Isla de Muerta and so you hope to save me from an evil fate. But you mustn't worry." He squeeze by her, out of his chair as he worked his was toward the large map of the world on his wall, Elizabeth's gun following his every move. 

"I care not for cursed Aztec gold, my desires are not so... provincial. There's more than one chest of value in these waters. So perhaps you may wish to enhance your offer." Beckett turned to look at her with a smirk, and she, in return, shoved the muzzle of the pistol under his chin, cocking it once more, and that's when he realized there were no bullets in this gun. 

"Consider it in your calculations that you robbed me of my wedding night." She shoved the papers against his chest, and he nodded, taking them from her hands and moving to his desk to sign them. 

"So I did. A marriage interrupted." He melted the end of a stick of wax using the flame of a candle on his desk and then dripped it onto the fold of the letter. 

"Or fate intervenes." He finished, using his ring to stamp the wax, sealing the letter closed. 

"You're making great efforts to ensure Jack Sparrow's freedom." He finally finished, turning to face Elizabeth once again with the papers out of her reach. 

"These are not going to Jack." 

"Oh, really. To insure Mr. Turner's freedom? I'll still want that compass. Consider that in your calculations." He said firmly, eyes hard as steel as he finally handed the letter to her. She snatched it from his hand and began taking cautions steps from the room, before finally turning to run away. 

Once she was gone, Beckett heaved a sigh, collapsing into his desk chair and taking a long deep breath before removing the pocket-watch from his pocket. It was gold, etchings on the face that she had beautifully done for him one of their last nights together, and on the inside, was the portrait of her. It wasn't perfect, there were variations in the shape of her face, but her eyes and her lips were perfect. The artist must have been as obsessed with them as he was himself. 

But soon, he'd have her back, and he wouldn't ever need this portrait again.