(no subject)
Title: Into the Dark - Chapter Four!
Paring: Beckett/OC, one-sided Jack/OC, Calypso/Davy Jones, Calpyso/Jack, and hints of Norribeth.
Summary:A lord, a pirate, and a pick-pocket are reunited in London. Each has something the other wants. "You see, Mr. Mercer? Every man has a price. Even for that which he hoped never to sell. "
Notes: This is un-beta'd but thorougly re-read and self-edited. Criticisms, historical nitpicks, etc, are all welcomed. This is inspired by all the beautiful work that's been done in this journal. :)
A/N: I made some mistakes on my chapter numbering - this is chapter four. Apologies for the confusion.
Also, music plays a huge part in all of my writing. I have a Julia/Beckett playlist on my Ipod, and I enjoy incorporating lyrics in at the start of the story when I can. Love it? Hate it? Have suggestions? Let me know!
Yes - this chapter is an example of a snooty lord and a cheeky pickpocket “meeting cute.” It’s mostly backstory, but I enjoy Cutler and Julia’s history. Also, be sure to note that Julia’s speech is much less refined in her younger years. Hmmmm.
Beckett: Oh, do stop being so irritating with your hint-dropping, please.
KT: Aren’t you supposed to be finishing packing my shoes to go back to college?
Beckett: …I am not a servant, madam.
KT: *looks*
Beckett: Fine.
Chapter Four: When You Were Young
You’re waiting on some beautiful boy to save you from your old ways
You pray forgiveness, watch it now - here it comes
He doesn’t look a thing like Jesus but he talks like a gentleman
Like you imagined when you were young
[ the killers ]
Julia Rex met Cutler Beckett when she was 17 years old and she stole his pocket watch.
She liked to think of herself as the Robin Hood of working class London. Steal from the rich, give to the poor. And by “the poor”, she of course meant herself. Sometimes she shared her takings with her brother, when he’d had an off-day. Hang her dad, he was never home anyway, and when he was he could bloody well manage for himself.
She spotted him instantly and narrowed in on him. He was an easy mark. Toffee nosed and useless looking. The kind she normally went for. They always had the most money, and were the least likely to notice when it went missing.
So when her hand dipped lightly into his pocket on the crowded market streets, she was a bit taken aback when his hand seized upon her wrist, his grip like an iron shackle.
She reacted instinctively, the way her brother Luke always taught her to if she ever got caught. She swung her forearm ‘round and into the mark’s sternum as hard as she could, twisted her hand free from his slackened grip, and ran like hell.
She glanced over her shoulder and swore when she saw that he was hot on his heels, his nostrils flared in anger. Cripes, she thought desperately. He was a bit more intimidating head on than she’d first thought. She’d wanted to double back, really through him off her case, but there was no way she could do that with him following so closely. She wove in and out of crowds in an attempt to lose him, but he was unshakable.
What happened next would be a hotly debated topic in the future. Julia claimed she had a stitch in her side, and allowed Cutler to catch her. Cutler claimed he tackled her using brute force.
Either way, she ended up facedown on the cobblestones, her arm pinned behind her back by a triumphant Cutler Beckett. In the fracas, the pageboy hat she’d been wearing had tumbled from her head - revealing her to not be a clean faced lad, but a young woman with a head full of springy golden curls.
A rather good looking woman, actually.
Beckett hauled her to her feet and looked at her in irritation. “This complicates my plan to kill you somewhat.” He said mildly.
Julia grinned impishly at him, not bothered in the slightest by the implied death threat. “Sorry ta’ disappoint, guvnah.” He held out his hand.
“You have something of mine.”
She sighed dramatically. “Now, love - be reasonable. It’s clear tah me by your fancy cloths that it’s not as if ye’ve got any shortage of money. Where as I,” she motioned to herself as best she could with him still holding onto her and tried to look pathetic and impoverished, “’ave to keep to the streets to make me own living.”
Beckett’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “You’re a whore?” He asked, disappointment coloring his tone.
“Oh no, suh. I’m a pick-pocket!” She said cheerily.
He stared at her for a moment, his brow wrinkling slightly as he assessed her.
“The watch you stole from me belonged to my grandfather.” Beckett said slowly. Julia’s face changed. She reached into her pocket and twined the fine gold chain of the watch around her small, nimble fingers.
“Apologies, suh. I’m not usually one fer stealing objects - I prefers tah stick to coin purses.”
“So sorry to be a disappointment.” Beckett parroted. Julia’s eyes sparkled.
“What’s your name, girl?”
Julia tilted her head and regarded him curiously. “What?” He demanded; slightly discomfited by her disconcertingly green eyes.
“Ye’ve not yelled for the police.”
“No.”
“Why’s that, then?”
“You’re a … woman. A girl, really.”
“I still stole yer bloody precious watch, dinnit I?”
Beckett sighed. “I asked for your name.”
“If I tell you tha’, you’ll call fer tha police.” She said coolly, Beckett’s lips curled involuntarily.
Against his better judgment and all common sense and dignity, his curiosity was piqued by this little wench.
If you could get past her disheveled appearance and the fact that she was wearing breeches, it was possible to see that she was extraordinarily well kept for someone of her class. And despite her heavy Cockney accent, she did not have the air of being unintelligent. In fact, he was rather impressed by her practical, circular logic.
“Madam, if I had any intention of calling for the police, I would have done so already.”
She considered this idea for a moment, letting the chain of his watch slide through her fingers absently. He wanted to reach out and seize it, but found he did not mind having her hold his most precious possession so much.
“Julia.” She said finally.
“Cutler.” A trade.
She repeated his name silently, her lips moving over the consonants, and he felt a curious pain in his heart and a lightness in his head. Was he having an attack of some sort?
“May I see you again?” He asked, without thinking. Julia arched her eyebrows at him in surprise.
“Beg pardon?”
“I - incase I need something stolen.” He said, lamely trying for a joke. Kicking himself mentally. What was wrong with him? She laughed anyway, and it sounded like a peal of silver bells.
“Yeh seem able to take care of yerself fairly well, Mistah Cutler.” She said cheekily, nodding towards his hand, which was still around her wrist. He was afraid to turn her lose - afraid that this lovely, exotic bird might fly away, never to be seen again. He was afraid he was imagining her.
“It’s just Cutler.” He said tersely, “And do I need a reason to want to see you again?”
Julia bit her lower lip in thought, and the movement sent an ache through him so strong he could not help but tighten his grip on her.
“Yes,” She said softly. “Man like you? I’d say yeh’d need a good reason tah be hanging around a girl like me.”
He held her gaze for a moment, and Julia’s heartbeat accelerated. She ignored every voice in her head telling that this was a bad idea, that men like him only wanted one thing from girls like her, and she smiled at him. She liked adventures. She liked him: his self-importance, his fine manners, his beautiful, refined voice like cool water lapping at her senses.
“My da’ owns the Clever Cat, down near the docks. I’m there most nights.”
He let go of her wrist. She found she missed the warmth of his palm against her skin almost immediately. He backed away from her slowly, looking confused by what had just transpired so quickly between the two of them. She look similarly bemused.
Even then, they knew everything was about to change.
“Then…I shall call on you sometime?” Her face flushed with pleasure. Call on her. Like she was a fancy lady, being courted by a fine gentleman.
“I’ll look forward tah that.”
Cutler turned dazedly, trying to remember what he’d been doing before a pixie like girl had - Christ, she’d put her hand in his pocket! He shook his head.
“Cutler?”
He spun around coolly to face her, attempting to exert a bit of composure. Something gold and circular arced through the air, glittering brilliantly. He caught it easily, reflexively.
Her wide, bright smile both exhilarated him and made him itch to slap her, to dominate her, to break her.
“You forgot yeh watch.”
He looked down at the object in his hand. Her thumbprint was visible on the back of the smooth yellow surface, and he held it carefully, so as not to rub it off.
“Thank you,” he said quietly, after she had melted easily into the crowds.
Paring: Beckett/OC, one-sided Jack/OC, Calypso/Davy Jones, Calpyso/Jack, and hints of Norribeth.
Summary:A lord, a pirate, and a pick-pocket are reunited in London. Each has something the other wants. "You see, Mr. Mercer? Every man has a price. Even for that which he hoped never to sell. "
Notes: This is un-beta'd but thorougly re-read and self-edited. Criticisms, historical nitpicks, etc, are all welcomed. This is inspired by all the beautiful work that's been done in this journal. :)
A/N: I made some mistakes on my chapter numbering - this is chapter four. Apologies for the confusion.
Also, music plays a huge part in all of my writing. I have a Julia/Beckett playlist on my Ipod, and I enjoy incorporating lyrics in at the start of the story when I can. Love it? Hate it? Have suggestions? Let me know!
Yes - this chapter is an example of a snooty lord and a cheeky pickpocket “meeting cute.” It’s mostly backstory, but I enjoy Cutler and Julia’s history. Also, be sure to note that Julia’s speech is much less refined in her younger years. Hmmmm.
Beckett: Oh, do stop being so irritating with your hint-dropping, please.
KT: Aren’t you supposed to be finishing packing my shoes to go back to college?
Beckett: …I am not a servant, madam.
KT: *looks*
Beckett: Fine.
Chapter Four: When You Were Young
You’re waiting on some beautiful boy to save you from your old ways
You pray forgiveness, watch it now - here it comes
He doesn’t look a thing like Jesus but he talks like a gentleman
Like you imagined when you were young
[ the killers ]
Julia Rex met Cutler Beckett when she was 17 years old and she stole his pocket watch.
She liked to think of herself as the Robin Hood of working class London. Steal from the rich, give to the poor. And by “the poor”, she of course meant herself. Sometimes she shared her takings with her brother, when he’d had an off-day. Hang her dad, he was never home anyway, and when he was he could bloody well manage for himself.
She spotted him instantly and narrowed in on him. He was an easy mark. Toffee nosed and useless looking. The kind she normally went for. They always had the most money, and were the least likely to notice when it went missing.
So when her hand dipped lightly into his pocket on the crowded market streets, she was a bit taken aback when his hand seized upon her wrist, his grip like an iron shackle.
She reacted instinctively, the way her brother Luke always taught her to if she ever got caught. She swung her forearm ‘round and into the mark’s sternum as hard as she could, twisted her hand free from his slackened grip, and ran like hell.
She glanced over her shoulder and swore when she saw that he was hot on his heels, his nostrils flared in anger. Cripes, she thought desperately. He was a bit more intimidating head on than she’d first thought. She’d wanted to double back, really through him off her case, but there was no way she could do that with him following so closely. She wove in and out of crowds in an attempt to lose him, but he was unshakable.
What happened next would be a hotly debated topic in the future. Julia claimed she had a stitch in her side, and allowed Cutler to catch her. Cutler claimed he tackled her using brute force.
Either way, she ended up facedown on the cobblestones, her arm pinned behind her back by a triumphant Cutler Beckett. In the fracas, the pageboy hat she’d been wearing had tumbled from her head - revealing her to not be a clean faced lad, but a young woman with a head full of springy golden curls.
A rather good looking woman, actually.
Beckett hauled her to her feet and looked at her in irritation. “This complicates my plan to kill you somewhat.” He said mildly.
Julia grinned impishly at him, not bothered in the slightest by the implied death threat. “Sorry ta’ disappoint, guvnah.” He held out his hand.
“You have something of mine.”
She sighed dramatically. “Now, love - be reasonable. It’s clear tah me by your fancy cloths that it’s not as if ye’ve got any shortage of money. Where as I,” she motioned to herself as best she could with him still holding onto her and tried to look pathetic and impoverished, “’ave to keep to the streets to make me own living.”
Beckett’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “You’re a whore?” He asked, disappointment coloring his tone.
“Oh no, suh. I’m a pick-pocket!” She said cheerily.
He stared at her for a moment, his brow wrinkling slightly as he assessed her.
“The watch you stole from me belonged to my grandfather.” Beckett said slowly. Julia’s face changed. She reached into her pocket and twined the fine gold chain of the watch around her small, nimble fingers.
“Apologies, suh. I’m not usually one fer stealing objects - I prefers tah stick to coin purses.”
“So sorry to be a disappointment.” Beckett parroted. Julia’s eyes sparkled.
“What’s your name, girl?”
Julia tilted her head and regarded him curiously. “What?” He demanded; slightly discomfited by her disconcertingly green eyes.
“Ye’ve not yelled for the police.”
“No.”
“Why’s that, then?”
“You’re a … woman. A girl, really.”
“I still stole yer bloody precious watch, dinnit I?”
Beckett sighed. “I asked for your name.”
“If I tell you tha’, you’ll call fer tha police.” She said coolly, Beckett’s lips curled involuntarily.
Against his better judgment and all common sense and dignity, his curiosity was piqued by this little wench.
If you could get past her disheveled appearance and the fact that she was wearing breeches, it was possible to see that she was extraordinarily well kept for someone of her class. And despite her heavy Cockney accent, she did not have the air of being unintelligent. In fact, he was rather impressed by her practical, circular logic.
“Madam, if I had any intention of calling for the police, I would have done so already.”
She considered this idea for a moment, letting the chain of his watch slide through her fingers absently. He wanted to reach out and seize it, but found he did not mind having her hold his most precious possession so much.
“Julia.” She said finally.
“Cutler.” A trade.
She repeated his name silently, her lips moving over the consonants, and he felt a curious pain in his heart and a lightness in his head. Was he having an attack of some sort?
“May I see you again?” He asked, without thinking. Julia arched her eyebrows at him in surprise.
“Beg pardon?”
“I - incase I need something stolen.” He said, lamely trying for a joke. Kicking himself mentally. What was wrong with him? She laughed anyway, and it sounded like a peal of silver bells.
“Yeh seem able to take care of yerself fairly well, Mistah Cutler.” She said cheekily, nodding towards his hand, which was still around her wrist. He was afraid to turn her lose - afraid that this lovely, exotic bird might fly away, never to be seen again. He was afraid he was imagining her.
“It’s just Cutler.” He said tersely, “And do I need a reason to want to see you again?”
Julia bit her lower lip in thought, and the movement sent an ache through him so strong he could not help but tighten his grip on her.
“Yes,” She said softly. “Man like you? I’d say yeh’d need a good reason tah be hanging around a girl like me.”
He held her gaze for a moment, and Julia’s heartbeat accelerated. She ignored every voice in her head telling that this was a bad idea, that men like him only wanted one thing from girls like her, and she smiled at him. She liked adventures. She liked him: his self-importance, his fine manners, his beautiful, refined voice like cool water lapping at her senses.
“My da’ owns the Clever Cat, down near the docks. I’m there most nights.”
He let go of her wrist. She found she missed the warmth of his palm against her skin almost immediately. He backed away from her slowly, looking confused by what had just transpired so quickly between the two of them. She look similarly bemused.
Even then, they knew everything was about to change.
“Then…I shall call on you sometime?” Her face flushed with pleasure. Call on her. Like she was a fancy lady, being courted by a fine gentleman.
“I’ll look forward tah that.”
Cutler turned dazedly, trying to remember what he’d been doing before a pixie like girl had - Christ, she’d put her hand in his pocket! He shook his head.
“Cutler?”
He spun around coolly to face her, attempting to exert a bit of composure. Something gold and circular arced through the air, glittering brilliantly. He caught it easily, reflexively.
Her wide, bright smile both exhilarated him and made him itch to slap her, to dominate her, to break her.
“You forgot yeh watch.”
He looked down at the object in his hand. Her thumbprint was visible on the back of the smooth yellow surface, and he held it carefully, so as not to rub it off.
“Thank you,” he said quietly, after she had melted easily into the crowds.