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The sea was anything but calm. The storm raged on. Along with the frequent crash of thunder, the clang of swords could be heard from miles away. Two people stood out amongst the pandemonium. On the deck of the Ambition, these two fought valiantly, one clad in an Oriental, black, almost armour-like outfit, the other in a worn and torn blue Navy uniform. Now, if one had ever known these two, they would deny to the world's end (literally) that these two would ever be fighting back to back, and one even against what could be his own old soldiers. Surely atleast all of Singapore and the Brethren Court could atest to the hatred between the former lord of the EITC and Pirate King, and Pirate Lord of Singapore, Swann. Yet, this was a sight to behold. The Pirate King herself back-to-back with Jack Dorsey, formerly Cutler Beckett, fighting against his own former men.
"Looks like we're losing!" he yelled over his shoulder to the pirate king. He slashed at another EITC man and sighed. Didn't they realize by now he was an expert swordsman, high above their skills?
"Now that is the sort of odds I like!" Elizabeth laughed back. Beckett -excuse me, Jack Dorsey- smiled at this. He couldn't believe Elizabeth couldn't see this coming, with only them fighting on their side... Elizabeth spun around, still back-to-back with Jack Dorsey, and stabbed into another soldier. He fell to the ground with a sickening 'thud' after Elizabeth drew her sword out of him. She then jumped and flipped, kicking three soldiers away that knocked into a group of six approaching them. Dorsey stopped and stared at Elizabeth dumbfounded. She only shrugged with a sheepish grin.
"Looks like we might actually win if you pull another move like that! You just knocked out..." Jack Dorsey quickly calculated it. "...nine soldiers!" he yelled back, astounded. He looked over to make sure all nine were completely knocked cold. Only one still moved. "Okay. Eight. But the one still moving is too weak to make any progress!" They both spun around, trading places, and swiped at and kicked the opponent in front of them. They spun around again to their original places and Elizabeth laughed.
"Are you curious to know where I achieved my skills?" she called back over her shoulder to him. Dorsey grabbed one of his attackers and headbutted him, throwing him to the side when he went limp.
"Yes, please divulge that information for my sake." he replied, clanging swords together with another opponent. "I should like to know who made you seemingly perfect in your skills as a swordsman -pardon me, swordswoman- and I should like to learn from said person." He parried the person's blow and ran his blade slowly down the opponent's. They began to grind their swords together in a circular motion, faster and faster, until the other's sword went flying out of his hand.
"Will." she answered simply. Dorsey shot her a face of confusion. Elizabeth used her blade as a club, knocking one opponent in the head. She grabbed the heads of two others and crashed them together. The two sank down to the deck, out cold. She turned to Dorsey when she got a chance and explained. "He's the one that taught me how to swordfight."
Dorsey was in awe for a moment and Elizabeth had to fend off the man that charged up behind him. He finally broke out of his trance and kicked the man in the stomach, sending him flying away from Elizabeth. She gave him a grateful nod and they returned to their back-to-back position. "So..., Turner. Hmm..." was all he said in reply.
After a few minutes of intense battle, he spoke up again. "This battle is becoming a pain in the--" A man went flying off the side of the ship screaming. "Yes, that." he remarked at the scream.
Suddenly, the sound of boots was heard. It wasn't hardly as terrifying as Davy Jones's, as arrogant as Jack Sparrow's, or as mysterious as Barbossa's, but still the fighting stopped and Elizabeth and Jack Dorsey glanced at one another, recognizing the steps all too well.
A man had recently taken the place of Beckett as lord of the East India Trading Company.
Damian Pryce.
He was just as obsessed with conquest as Beckett and even more of a tyrant. He would go to extreme lengths to complete that conquest. But, unlike Beckett, he instilled fear in everyone that he met. Even though handsome on the outside, his heart was as black as coal. Some would even claim he never had one and never would. And though some would say there has never been such a thing as eyes that are black, one who had met Damian Pryce and gazed into those cold, unfeeling eyes of his would beg to differ. His hair matched his heart. The color of coal. It was hidden beneath his powdered white wig, but every now and then wisps would escape. A smile never graced his mouth, nor played at the corners of his lips unless it was self-congratulatory smile after annihilating another rival.
Elizabeth and Dorsey's eyes were drawn to the stairs. He descended them at a slow pace, clapping his hands mockingly. His cold gaze bore down on them. After reaching the bottom of the stairs, his soldiers made way for him. He stopped his clapping and immediately halted where he was, clasping his hands behind his back. "I'm impressed." he remarked, giving both of them a hard glare. "You have courage, both of you, going up against my soldiers with only the two of you on your side. Inexplicable courage." The ghost of a smile hovered on his face.
Dorsey regarded this carefully. "Don't smile yet, Damian. You haven't conquered us yet."
Lord Damian Pryce turned on him abruptly. "That's Lord Pryce to you." he scolded him curtly. "And I will." His smile grew just the tiniest bit. "All in good time, my friend." Dorsey found he had no response to this comment. A first for him. In his life as Cutler Beckett, he'd always had a smarmy or witty remark to anything. Lord Pryce stepped closer. "And you must be Cutler Beckett." A fake laugh escaped his lips. "I've been informed a little about you."
"Cutler Beckett is considered dead. And even if he is alive, he would no longer be lord as you have already usurped his position. I am Jack Dorsey." Dorsey informed him brusquely. This was turning out to be quite the power struggle.
"And so you are." Pryce turned to Elizabeth. "Who might you be? The midget's helper?" Dorsey almost lunged at him, but held himself back. He'd use Pryce's advice. All in good time, my friend. "Well?" he demanded of Elizabeth. Lord Pryce's voice shook him from his thoughts. Apparently, Elizabeth hadn't answered and refused to after several demands. Elizabeth spat at his feet. Pryce just looked down, regarding the spit mark on his shoe. "I don't believe that's your name, miss." he replied calmly, shaking his boot to clean it. "If it is, I'm dreadfully sorry." He turned on his heel to face Dorsey once again.
"If she believes it smart not to reveal who she is, you'll be getting no answer from me." Dorsey quickly said before Pryce even had time to ask him. Jack Dorsey still had some tricks up his sleeve, but he was determined to rid himself of this man as soon as possible. Lord Pryce opened his mouth to speak, when Elizabeth interrupted.
"Swann. I'm Elizabeth Swann." she finally answered.
Pryce turned to her, his expression just the slightest bit softer. "Ah. Elizabeth Swann. I've heard of you. Pirate Lord of Singapore. Hmm. A grand title I imagine?" Elizabeth nodded. "But not half as grand as Pirate King. Am I right?" Elizabeth's face turned pale with shock and the look of confidence she'd been wearing quickly dissippated with just so small a statement. He stepped toward her. "Men!" he called to his soldiers, his eyes never leaving her. "We have finally caught the pirate king."
A "huzzah" went up among the men on the ship. Lord Pryce's eyes brightened at the cheer. "We've also captured the outlaw Cutler Beckett." He turned to Dorsey. "If you hadn't run away with pirates, your only punishment would have been losing your position for not giving any order. But, since you've chosen to side with them, your punishment is a hanging..." His gaze traveled to Elizabeth. "along with her..." He looked back at Dorsey. "What shall you do now?"
"As you said, my friend, all in good time." Everything seemed to go in slow motion as Jack Dorsey unsheathed his sword and charged at Lord Pryce. But the sound he heard was not his sword plunging into Damian Pryce. He whipped his head to the side as the sword drove deeper into Elizabeth. His eyes traveled up the sword to it's owner, Damian, who let go with a widening smile. He backed away, his smile growing.
"Cutler..." Elizabeth whispered as she sank down slowly to her knees then fell to the deck, gasping for breath. She hit the deck hard, wailing in pain from the sword and the way she hit the deck. Her hands groped for the sword as her eyes started to glaze over and stare up at nothing.
Dorsey, now discovered as Beckett, dropped his sword and crouched down at her side. "Elizabeth." he whispered to her softly. Her eyes swiftly found him and a smile just started to play across her lips. He took her hands away from the sword and held one of them in his. "It'll be okay." he said, trying to make himself believe the same...
Anyone that had seen any interaction between Pirate King Swann and Lord Beckett would never believe they would ever care for each other. But Fate has a way of twisting things in her favor. The obvious becomes the rejected. And the unexpected is shaped into reality. Fate is an ironic being with cruel humor, changing the destinies of others for her own amusement. She hides what should be the obvious then suddenly springs it upon all, expecting them to embrace it, involving them in her cruel humor. Fate had played this way with Elizabeth Swann and Cutler Beckett, seperating their lives until the most inoppurtune moment to twist their paths and develop hatred between them. Then, in forcing their paths together once more, expected them to forget their faults and join together. It didn't work then, and it wouldn't work the next time.
Elizabeth Swann thought over all this while everything lost clarity, wondering how Fate had ever brought them together and finally prevailed...
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A lone piece of wood floated along the rough waters of the Carribean. On it, the almost-dead body of Lord Cutler Beckett. A wave splashed over the wood, seemingly reviving the knocked out former lord. He looked up slowly as a bird landed on his "raft." It started pecking the raft like it was a tree. The awakening Cutler Beckett quickly knocked it off, sending the bird splashing into the water with a resounding "CAW!". Suddenly it dawned on him. "What in the---"
His head was throbbing and when he felt around for his wig, he couldn't find it. Upon touching one part of his arm, he drew his hand away drenched in blood. He couldn't feel his legs, but he could visibly see them moving. He couldn't move the arm that was overflowing with blood. Beckett crawled all the way up on the piece of wood with his good arm and turned onto his back. He stared up at the sky and then glanced around. He then inferred he was far from the wreckage. The wreckage? The memories hit him like a hammer.
"Orders?! Orders, Captain, orders?!" my first mate yelled in desperation.

I heard the cannonfire, saw the explosions, and realized that I was no match for the Pearl and the Dutchman. "It-it's just.... good business." I replied simply, blinking as I accepted my fate. I would die. There was no way to escape death this time. It finally had me.
"Abandon ship!" one of my crew members screamed. I just stood there, staring at nothing, accepting my fate as the cannons fired, blowing my ship to pieces. I finally turned and walked down the stairs slowly. All the debris seemed to avoid me, and everything seemed to go in slow motion. Then, everything ended in one explosion...
The ship blew to oblivion. I felt nothing as I was hurled through the air by the strength of the explosion. Feeling kicked back in when I landed on what felt like some kind of material. I jerked my hand to feel it only to realize it was a flag. I had landed on my own flag. My own East India Trading Company flag.
Then, everything went black...
He felt his head again. The headache was building. He almost loathed to even look around him to see if there was any land in sight, for fear of finding none. But when he looked around, he found that an island was near by. "Thank goodness!" Beckett whispered cheerfully. He couldn't tell much of the island from here, but he calculated with the way the wind was blowing he'd be there in about an hour. Then, his eyes closed once again.
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He opened his eyes slowly...
CRASH!
A huge wave sent Beckett and the "raft" hurtling through the air. He finally woke up fully and realized what was going on. Cutler Beckett let out a yell and tried to look around. All he saw was water around him. The wood he had been floating on soared by him and he reached out to grasp it, but his hands came within a few feet of it before it fell away. Suddenly, pain surged through him and he rolled over and coughed up the salty seawater. At this point, the former lord realized he had been hurtled onto the island. He tried to get up, but his body wouldn't work in his favor. He slammed the fist of his good arm on the ground and cursed under his breath.
Beckett let his head fall back down onto the sand and sighed. Atleast he had finally gotten here. He looked around from his spot on the shore then burst into a coughing fit once again. After he was done -and was sure all the seawater was removed from his lungs-, he observed his clothing. Only now did he find that his whole outfit was ruined and most of it tattered to the point of no recognition. He laid his head back down and grunted. So much for his outfit still being in good shape...
The pain had now stopped and Cutler was pretty confident he could hoist himself up now. He sat up, mentally congratulating himself on his..."feat." He planted both of his hands on either side of him and pushed himself up off the ground. Sighing with relief once he got on his feet, he unsteadily took his steps forward. Beckett was not looking where he was going, only focused on steadying his gait. But, when he did look up, he was staring into the barrel of a pistol.
"Oh," he remarked sarcastically, looking beyond the pistol to its owner. "how fortunate..."
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Elizabeth couldn't stand him! Jack had come to visit her on the island so she wouldn't be lonely. He had thought his company would be a comfort to her...
Boy, was he wrong.
So, hence comes our scene of Elizabeth trudging along the scrubby cliff of the island, her hair flowing behind her. She was dressed in her usual outfit of black baggy breeches, a white shirt with a green vest over it, and a tricorn hat, not as dashing as Jack's, but a decent hat at that. Her black boots crunched into the stiff, shrubby grass of the cliff, leaving bootprints behind her. She lifted her hand to her eyes and admired the ring once again. It sparkled in the sun as she turned her hand at every possible angle.
Well, atleast some company was better than no company at all. ...Even if it was Jack. She sighed, hoping she would get used to him after a while.
She doubted it.
Her path turned down toward the beach and she observed that the wind was strong today, making the waves crash with remarkable strength onto the shore. She shook her head, amused at the image that popped into her mind of letting Jack Sparrow get in one of those waves... She quickly shook it away, telling herself that even though Jack annoyed her, he was a friend. Sort of.
With a quick glance she noticed that he was actually walking along the beach right now. Probably blowing off some steam from their fight. Or laughing at the way he had irritated her to the point of screaming. Either one.
She glanced over again, noting his swaying gait and the arrogant way he swung his arms by his side when he swaggered. She once again shook her head, laughing to herself at the way Jack Sparrow thought he was so great. Then, something caught her eye. Something in the waves. As one crashed onto the shore, she swore she saw a person in it. She quickly discarded the thought as a large piece of wood crashed onto the shore. So it was only wood. But, Jack had stopped too and was staring at the wave. He adjusted his hat then went to get a closer look.
Suddenly he stopped. Elizabeth started rushing toward the beach as she saw him fumble for his pistol. Then, she saw him. Him...
Cutler Beckett. The murderer of her father, the imprisoner of her and Will, the rival of Jack Sparrow. Her worst enemy. Cutler Beckett. No one couls possibly feel what Elizabeth was feeling now. So much held-back hatred and overwhelming sadness all at once. So many emotions rushed over her that she couldn't stop herself from racing to the pair on the shore.
Jack had now unholstered his pistol and held it in the face of Cutler Beckett. Elizabeth skidded to a halt beside Jack. "Oh, how fortunate." Beckett commented sarcastically after looking beyond the pistol to Jack. The pistol was in front of his face again in seconds. Yet he looked once again beyond the pistol and his eyes found Elizabeth. "Oh, how the more fortunate I am!" he added, sarcastically cheerful. He looked at Jack again with a serious expression. "Just shoot. Kill me now." he implored of Jack somewhat desperately.
"No, I'd rather not, mate. 'Cause I've got some questions fer you t' answer. First o' all, why aren't you dead?" Jack said the last part through gritted teeth.Elizbaeth was thinking the same question. Didn't she actually even see the cannonball that should've blown him to oblivion?
Beckett gave them both a glance and laughed. "I've been inquiring of myself precisely the same question, my friend." Jack grimaced at the reference to him. "And might I add that that may have been a better fate for me than this."
Jack pressed the barrel to Beckett's forehead. "Keep talkin' an' you might just get tha' fate."
Beckett gave Jack a seemingly harmless look that seemed to ask him "but aren't you the one that asked me a question in the first place." Beckett furrowed his eyebrows confusedly, then that same disinterested look he'd worn for the past twenty years formed on his face again. He looked around boredly, the pistol following his every move. Finally, he swung his hand up and grabbed the barrel, making Jack almost shoot. "Would you kindly get that thing out of my face." Jack's fingers relaxed on the trigger and took a few steps back, the hand holding the pistol never faltering. Beckett gave a sigh of dissappointment. "That will do for now." he comment somewhat irritatedly. He resumed his bored survey of the island and scoffed when he spotted Elizabeth's cabin. "You live here?" he inquired incredulously.
Elizabeth looked to Jack to see if he thought it best for her to answer that question. She wasn't very sure herself if she should. But that uncertainty was wiped away once Jack nodded. "Yes." she answered calmly, with just a hint of ill-will in her voice. "I do. He surely doesn't." she added as an afterthought.
"Nor would I want to..." Jack muttered, but feigned a cough when Elizabeth asked what he said.
Beckett scoffed again. "Superfluous little island really, isn't it?"
Elizabeth's anger boiled to a higher level. "Unnecessary because of it's size or because I live on it?" she queried, her voice malice-filled.
"Either one." Beckett answered simply and began to walk off. Jack started to follow him, but Elizabeth grabbed his arm, despite her want for revenge on Beckett. He gave her a look of irritation and trained his pistol on Beckett.
"Watch him fall..." he whispered and his fingers tightened on the trigger.
"Jack." Elizabeth scolded him with just a little bit of firmness.
"Fine." he retorted and stuffed his pistol in his belt, grumbling insults. Insults that weren't exactly nice. "I was only going to visit for today and tomorrow, but it looks as if I'm goin' t' have t' extend my stay." He looked at Elizabeth. "I ain't leavin' you here alone wiv him around..." he explained to her. Elizabeth nodded, her malice towards Beckett never decreasing. And Elizabeth couldn't help but wonder as she watched Beckett roam around her island...
Why was she protecting her enemy?

Description
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The sea was anything but calm. The storm raged on. Along with the frequent crash of thunder, the clang of swords could be heard from miles away. Two people stood out amongst the pandemonium. On the deck of the Ambition, these two fought valiantly, one clad in an Oriental, black, almost armour-like outfit, the other in a worn and torn blue Navy uniform. Now, if one had ever known these two, they would deny to the world's end (literally) that these two would ever be fighting back to back, and one even against what could be his own old soldiers. Surely atleast all of Singapore and the Brethren Court could atest to the hatred between the former lord of the EITC and Pirate King, and Pirate Lord of Singapore, Swann. Yet, this was a sight to behold. The Pirate King herself back-to-back with Jack Dorsey, formerly Cutler Beckett, fighting against his own former men.
"Looks like we're losing!" he yelled over his shoulder to the pirate king. He slashed at another EITC man and sighed. Didn't they realize by now he was an expert swordsman, high above their skills?
"Now that is the sort of odds I like!" Elizabeth laughed back. Beckett -excuse me, Jack Dorsey- smiled at this. He couldn't believe Elizabeth couldn't see this coming, with only them fighting on their side... Elizabeth spun around, still back-to-back with Jack Dorsey, and stabbed into another soldier. He fell to the ground with a sickening 'thud' after Elizabeth drew her sword out of him. She then jumped and flipped, kicking three soldiers away that knocked into a group of six approaching them. Dorsey stopped and stared at Elizabeth dumbfounded. She only shrugged with a sheepish grin.
"Looks like we might actually win if you pull another move like that! You just knocked out..." Jack Dorsey quickly calculated it. "...nine soldiers!" he yelled back, astounded. He looked over to make sure all nine were completely knocked cold. Only one still moved. "Okay. Eight. But the one still moving is too weak to make any progress!" They both spun around, trading places, and swiped at and kicked the opponent in front of them. They spun around again to their original places and Elizabeth laughed.
"Are you curious to know where I achieved my skills?" she called back over her shoulder to him. Dorsey grabbed one of his attackers and headbutted him, throwing him to the side when he went limp.
"Yes, please divulge that information for my sake." he replied, clanging swords together with another opponent. "I should like to know who made you seemingly perfect in your skills as a swordsman -pardon me, swordswoman- and I should like to learn from said person." He parried the person's blow and ran his blade slowly down the opponent's. They began to grind their swords together in a circular motion, faster and faster, until the other's sword went flying out of his hand.
"Will." she answered simply. Dorsey shot her a face of confusion. Elizabeth used her blade as a club, knocking one opponent in the head. She grabbed the heads of two others and crashed them together. The two sank down to the deck, out cold. She turned to Dorsey when she got a chance and explained. "He's the one that taught me how to swordfight."
Dorsey was in awe for a moment and Elizabeth had to fend off the man that charged up behind him. He finally broke out of his trance and kicked the man in the stomach, sending him flying away from Elizabeth. She gave him a grateful nod and they returned to their back-to-back position. "So..., Turner. Hmm..." was all he said in reply.
After a few minutes of intense battle, he spoke up again. "This battle is becoming a pain in the--" A man went flying off the side of the ship screaming. "Yes, that." he remarked at the scream.
Suddenly, the sound of boots was heard. It wasn't hardly as terrifying as Davy Jones's, as arrogant as Jack Sparrow's, or as mysterious as Barbossa's, but still the fighting stopped and Elizabeth and Jack Dorsey glanced at one another, recognizing the steps all too well.
A man had recently taken the place of Beckett as lord of the East India Trading Company.
Damian Pryce.
He was just as obsessed with conquest as Beckett and even more of a tyrant. He would go to extreme lengths to complete that conquest. But, unlike Beckett, he instilled fear in everyone that he met. Even though handsome on the outside, his heart was as black as coal. Some would even claim he never had one and never would. And though some would say there has never been such a thing as eyes that are black, one who had met Damian Pryce and gazed into those cold, unfeeling eyes of his would beg to differ. His hair matched his heart. The color of coal. It was hidden beneath his powdered white wig, but every now and then wisps would escape. A smile never graced his mouth, nor played at the corners of his lips unless it was self-congratulatory smile after annihilating another rival.
Elizabeth and Dorsey's eyes were drawn to the stairs. He descended them at a slow pace, clapping his hands mockingly. His cold gaze bore down on them. After reaching the bottom of the stairs, his soldiers made way for him. He stopped his clapping and immediately halted where he was, clasping his hands behind his back. "I'm impressed." he remarked, giving both of them a hard glare. "You have courage, both of you, going up against my soldiers with only the two of you on your side. Inexplicable courage." The ghost of a smile hovered on his face.
Dorsey regarded this carefully. "Don't smile yet, Damian. You haven't conquered us yet."
Lord Damian Pryce turned on him abruptly. "That's Lord Pryce to you." he scolded him curtly. "And I will." His smile grew just the tiniest bit. "All in good time, my friend." Dorsey found he had no response to this comment. A first for him. In his life as Cutler Beckett, he'd always had a smarmy or witty remark to anything. Lord Pryce stepped closer. "And you must be Cutler Beckett." A fake laugh escaped his lips. "I've been informed a little about you."
"Cutler Beckett is considered dead. And even if he is alive, he would no longer be lord as you have already usurped his position. I am Jack Dorsey." Dorsey informed him brusquely. This was turning out to be quite the power struggle.
"And so you are." Pryce turned to Elizabeth. "Who might you be? The midget's helper?" Dorsey almost lunged at him, but held himself back. He'd use Pryce's advice. All in good time, my friend. "Well?" he demanded of Elizabeth. Lord Pryce's voice shook him from his thoughts. Apparently, Elizabeth hadn't answered and refused to after several demands. Elizabeth spat at his feet. Pryce just looked down, regarding the spit mark on his shoe. "I don't believe that's your name, miss." he replied calmly, shaking his boot to clean it. "If it is, I'm dreadfully sorry." He turned on his heel to face Dorsey once again.
"If she believes it smart not to reveal who she is, you'll be getting no answer from me." Dorsey quickly said before Pryce even had time to ask him. Jack Dorsey still had some tricks up his sleeve, but he was determined to rid himself of this man as soon as possible. Lord Pryce opened his mouth to speak, when Elizabeth interrupted.
"Swann. I'm Elizabeth Swann." she finally answered.
Pryce turned to her, his expression just the slightest bit softer. "Ah. Elizabeth Swann. I've heard of you. Pirate Lord of Singapore. Hmm. A grand title I imagine?" Elizabeth nodded. "But not half as grand as Pirate King. Am I right?" Elizabeth's face turned pale with shock and the look of confidence she'd been wearing quickly dissippated with just so small a statement. He stepped toward her. "Men!" he called to his soldiers, his eyes never leaving her. "We have finally caught the pirate king."
A "huzzah" went up among the men on the ship. Lord Pryce's eyes brightened at the cheer. "We've also captured the outlaw Cutler Beckett." He turned to Dorsey. "If you hadn't run away with pirates, your only punishment would have been losing your position for not giving any order. But, since you've chosen to side with them, your punishment is a hanging..." His gaze traveled to Elizabeth. "along with her..." He looked back at Dorsey. "What shall you do now?"
"As you said, my friend, all in good time." Everything seemed to go in slow motion as Jack Dorsey unsheathed his sword and charged at Lord Pryce. But the sound he heard was not his sword plunging into Damian Pryce. He whipped his head to the side as the sword drove deeper into Elizabeth. His eyes traveled up the sword to it's owner, Damian, who let go with a widening smile. He backed away, his smile growing.
"Cutler..." Elizabeth whispered as she sank down slowly to her knees then fell to the deck, gasping for breath. She hit the deck hard, wailing in pain from the sword and the way she hit the deck. Her hands groped for the sword as her eyes started to glaze over and stare up at nothing.
Dorsey, now discovered as Beckett, dropped his sword and crouched down at her side. "Elizabeth." he whispered to her softly. Her eyes swiftly found him and a smile just started to play across her lips. He took her hands away from the sword and held one of them in his. "It'll be okay." he said, trying to make himself believe the same...
Anyone that had seen any interaction between Pirate King Swann and Lord Beckett would never believe they would ever care for each other. But Fate has a way of twisting things in her favor. The obvious becomes the rejected. And the unexpected is shaped into reality. Fate is an ironic being with cruel humor, changing the destinies of others for her own amusement. She hides what should be the obvious then suddenly springs it upon all, expecting them to embrace it, involving them in her cruel humor. Fate had played this way with Elizabeth Swann and Cutler Beckett, seperating their lives until the most inoppurtune moment to twist their paths and develop hatred between them. Then, in forcing their paths together once more, expected them to forget their faults and join together. It didn't work then, and it wouldn't work the next time.
Elizabeth Swann thought over all this while everything lost clarity, wondering how Fate had ever brought them together and finally prevailed...
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A lone piece of wood floated along the rough waters of the Carribean. On it, the almost-dead body of Lord Cutler Beckett. A wave splashed over the wood, seemingly reviving the knocked out former lord. He looked up slowly as a bird landed on his "raft." It started pecking the raft like it was a tree. The awakening Cutler Beckett quickly knocked it off, sending the bird splashing into the water with a resounding "CAW!". Suddenly it dawned on him. "What in the---"
His head was throbbing and when he felt around for his wig, he couldn't find it. Upon touching one part of his arm, he drew his hand away drenched in blood. He couldn't feel his legs, but he could visibly see them moving. He couldn't move the arm that was overflowing with blood. Beckett crawled all the way up on the piece of wood with his good arm and turned onto his back. He stared up at the sky and then glanced around. He then inferred he was far from the wreckage. The wreckage? The memories hit him like a hammer.
"Orders?! Orders, Captain, orders?!" my first mate yelled in desperation.

I heard the cannonfire, saw the explosions, and realized that I was no match for the Pearl and the Dutchman. "It-it's just.... good business." I replied simply, blinking as I accepted my fate. I would die. There was no way to escape death this time. It finally had me.
"Abandon ship!" one of my crew members screamed. I just stood there, staring at nothing, accepting my fate as the cannons fired, blowing my ship to pieces. I finally turned and walked down the stairs slowly. All the debris seemed to avoid me, and everything seemed to go in slow motion. Then, everything ended in one explosion...
The ship blew to oblivion. I felt nothing as I was hurled through the air by the strength of the explosion. Feeling kicked back in when I landed on what felt like some kind of material. I jerked my hand to feel it only to realize it was a flag. I had landed on my own flag. My own East India Trading Company flag.
Then, everything went black...
He felt his head again. The headache was building. He almost loathed to even look around him to see if there was any land in sight, for fear of finding none. But when he looked around, he found that an island was near by. "Thank goodness!" Beckett whispered cheerfully. He couldn't tell much of the island from here, but he calculated with the way the wind was blowing he'd be there in about an hour. Then, his eyes closed once again.
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He opened his eyes slowly...
CRASH!
A huge wave sent Beckett and the "raft" hurtling through the air. He finally woke up fully and realized what was going on. Cutler Beckett let out a yell and tried to look around. All he saw was water around him. The wood he had been floating on soared by him and he reached out to grasp it, but his hands came within a few feet of it before it fell away. Suddenly, pain surged through him and he rolled over and coughed up the salty seawater. At this point, the former lord realized he had been hurtled onto the island. He tried to get up, but his body wouldn't work in his favor. He slammed the fist of his good arm on the ground and cursed under his breath.
Beckett let his head fall back down onto the sand and sighed. Atleast he had finally gotten here. He looked around from his spot on the shore then burst into a coughing fit once again. After he was done -and was sure all the seawater was removed from his lungs-, he observed his clothing. Only now did he find that his whole outfit was ruined and most of it tattered to the point of no recognition. He laid his head back down and grunted. So much for his outfit still being in good shape...
The pain had now stopped and Cutler was pretty confident he could hoist himself up now. He sat up, mentally congratulating himself on his..."feat." He planted both of his hands on either side of him and pushed himself up off the ground. Sighing with relief once he got on his feet, he unsteadily took his steps forward. Beckett was not looking where he was going, only focused on steadying his gait. But, when he did look up, he was staring into the barrel of a pistol.
"Oh," he remarked sarcastically, looking beyond the pistol to its owner. "how fortunate..."
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Elizabeth couldn't stand him! Jack had come to visit her on the island so she wouldn't be lonely. He had thought his company would be a comfort to her...
Boy, was he wrong.
So, hence comes our scene of Elizabeth trudging along the scrubby cliff of the island, her hair flowing behind her. She was dressed in her usual outfit of black baggy breeches, a white shirt with a green vest over it, and a tricorn hat, not as dashing as Jack's, but a decent hat at that. Her black boots crunched into the stiff, shrubby grass of the cliff, leaving bootprints behind her. She lifted her hand to her eyes and admired the ring once again. It sparkled in the sun as she turned her hand at every possible angle.
Well, atleast some company was better than no company at all. ...Even if it was Jack. She sighed, hoping she would get used to him after a while.
She doubted it.
Her path turned down toward the beach and she observed that the wind was strong today, making the waves crash with remarkable strength onto the shore. She shook her head, amused at the image that popped into her mind of letting Jack Sparrow get in one of those waves... She quickly shook it away, telling herself that even though Jack annoyed her, he was a friend. Sort of.
With a quick glance she noticed that he was actually walking along the beach right now. Probably blowing off some steam from their fight. Or laughing at the way he had irritated her to the point of screaming. Either one.
She glanced over again, noting his swaying gait and the arrogant way he swung his arms by his side when he swaggered. She once again shook her head, laughing to herself at the way Jack Sparrow thought he was so great. Then, something caught her eye. Something in the waves. As one crashed onto the shore, she swore she saw a person in it. She quickly discarded the thought as a large piece of wood crashed onto the shore. So it was only wood. But, Jack had stopped too and was staring at the wave. He adjusted his hat then went to get a closer look.
Suddenly he stopped. Elizabeth started rushing toward the beach as she saw him fumble for his pistol. Then, she saw him. Him...
Cutler Beckett. The murderer of her father, the imprisoner of her and Will, the rival of Jack Sparrow. Her worst enemy. Cutler Beckett. No one couls possibly feel what Elizabeth was feeling now. So much held-back hatred and overwhelming sadness all at once. So many emotions rushed over her that she couldn't stop herself from racing to the pair on the shore.
Jack had now unholstered his pistol and held it in the face of Cutler Beckett. Elizabeth skidded to a halt beside Jack. "Oh, how fortunate." Beckett commented sarcastically after looking beyond the pistol to Jack. The pistol was in front of his face again in seconds. Yet he looked once again beyond the pistol and his eyes found Elizabeth. "Oh, how the more fortunate I am!" he added, sarcastically cheerful. He looked at Jack again with a serious expression. "Just shoot. Kill me now." he implored of Jack somewhat desperately.
"No, I'd rather not, mate. 'Cause I've got some questions fer you t' answer. First o' all, why aren't you dead?" Jack said the last part through gritted teeth.Elizbaeth was thinking the same question. Didn't she actually even see the cannonball that should've blown him to oblivion?
Beckett gave them both a glance and laughed. "I've been inquiring of myself precisely the same question, my friend." Jack grimaced at the reference to him. "And might I add that that may have been a better fate for me than this."
Jack pressed the barrel to Beckett's forehead. "Keep talkin' an' you might just get tha' fate."
Beckett gave Jack a seemingly harmless look that seemed to ask him "but aren't you the one that asked me a question in the first place." Beckett furrowed his eyebrows confusedly, then that same disinterested look he'd worn for the past twenty years formed on his face again. He looked around boredly, the pistol following his every move. Finally, he swung his hand up and grabbed the barrel, making Jack almost shoot. "Would you kindly get that thing out of my face." Jack's fingers relaxed on the trigger and took a few steps back, the hand holding the pistol never faltering. Beckett gave a sigh of dissappointment. "That will do for now." he comment somewhat irritatedly. He resumed his bored survey of the island and scoffed when he spotted Elizabeth's cabin. "You live here?" he inquired incredulously.
Elizabeth looked to Jack to see if he thought it best for her to answer that question. She wasn't very sure herself if she should. But that uncertainty was wiped away once Jack nodded. "Yes." she answered calmly, with just a hint of ill-will in her voice. "I do. He surely doesn't." she added as an afterthought.
"Nor would I want to..." Jack muttered, but feigned a cough when Elizabeth asked what he said.
Beckett scoffed again. "Superfluous little island really, isn't it?"
Elizabeth's anger boiled to a higher level. "Unnecessary because of it's size or because I live on it?" she queried, her voice malice-filled.
"Either one." Beckett answered simply and began to walk off. Jack started to follow him, but Elizabeth grabbed his arm, despite her want for revenge on Beckett. He gave her a look of irritation and trained his pistol on Beckett.
"Watch him fall..." he whispered and his fingers tightened on the trigger.
"Jack." Elizabeth scolded him with just a little bit of firmness.
"Fine." he retorted and stuffed his pistol in his belt, grumbling insults. Insults that weren't exactly nice. "I was only going to visit for today and tomorrow, but it looks as if I'm goin' t' have t' extend my stay." He looked at Elizabeth. "I ain't leavin' you here alone wiv him around..." he explained to her. Elizabeth nodded, her malice towards Beckett never decreasing. And Elizabeth couldn't help but wonder as she watched Beckett roam around her island...
Why was she protecting her enemy?