Quid Pro Quo Chapter 2
The dinner did look delicious. Pork, chicken, grease dripping, light bread and different sauces, garlic, salads, different fruit, five different bottles of wine... Beckett had to admit that he was quite satisfied with the kitchen-staff; they had done an amazing job, fulfilled each one of his wishes...
He was not formally dressed, not tonight. Of course he still wore his white wig, the pride of his life, but he wasn't wearing a coat nor a west; his white shirt was tucked into his black breeches, his boots black and shining in the candle light. It was that simple: white shirt and black pants. He'd always figured that his appearance scared the young miss Swann in a matter he could not explain, but he did not want her to fear him tonight. He had other plans.
The roomed was filled with candle-light, Beckett had to admit that he was afraid his wig would catch fire - not to mention her hair. But the light did form a nice, intense atmosphere in the dining salon, and he liked it. It was exactly as he had planned it...
There were two glasses of gold on the huge table in the dining-room, and he grabbed one of them - the one he was going to put next to Elizabeth's plate. His hand disappeared into one of his pockets and pulled out a little bottle. The blue liquid. He opened the cork, held the bottle over Elizabeth's glass, but then he suddenly changed his mind. Maybe it was too soon. He'd need to earn her trust, which was not an easy thing, but he was a very patient man - he could do it. So he put the bottle back into his pocket, filled Elizabeth's glass with the finest wine int he Caribbean, then he took a deep breath and smiled.
*****
She couldn't call it a dress. This was not a dress. It had to be something Asian, Chinese maybe. It was a goddamn robe!
The maids had come and given her a basket of things they'd thought she could need, like soap, towels, different affects she could use on her hair, and of course the dress. Except it was not a dress. It looked exactly like the blue robe she'd worn in Singapore, but this one was silk, black, and had some kind of silver things dangling from the collar... It had to be a joke. Wearing that or wearing nothing at all - it was the same thing.
Elizabeth bit her nails (it had become a bad habit during the last few months) and tried to think. She was all right, even though she was trembling with humiliation and fear... She had two choices: Play along and hope to survive, or fight as hell to survive. The first one did sound better, though the monster inside of her was exploding - she had to hurt Beckett with all she had... Otherwise her lust would never be satisfied.
There was a watch on the wall of Beckett's huge cabin, it pointed five to nine. She wondered whether someone was coming to pick her up, or was she just to find her own way to the dining-room? Not that it mattered... She had taken a bath in the huge bathtub (she hadn't realized there was a door in the room which led to a huge bathroom!), and her hair had almost dried by now, and she was considering putting it up. Would it look better?
Probably. Hang on, why did she feel a need to look good in the presence of Lord Cutler Beckett?
Now she'd lost her mind.
A small laugh escaped her lips as she let her light blue robe fall to the floor, then she picked up 'the dress', slid her arms into the sleeves and closed it.
She was quite surprised - it looked better than she'd expected. She touched the silk, watching herself in the middle, actually thinking... that she looked quite beautiful. Her eyes were dark, her hair had this honey glow in the candlelight, and her skin looked so pale, yet so tanned.
The maids had brought here a pair of golden ear-rings. Maybe they were the last touch her whole appearance needed, so she put them on,... and then decided to put her hair up - even though she had washed it, it looked a little dirty.
She had just finished her hair when she heard a loud knock on the door, and, to her great surprise, James Norrington entered.
"James!" she gasped, not knowing whether to run and hug him or back away. "What are you...?"
James felt a sudden rush of happiness fill his heart when he saw how beautiful she looked, though imprisoned. "Lord Beckett wants me to escort you to the great hall where you will dine with him... Miss Swann."
Her eyes widened and she clenched her teeth, trying to discover what James was keeping within. "What are you doing? He hasn't brainwashed you, I know that, why are you being so formal?"
"It happens to be my duty." He'd considered adding a 'miss' to the end, but he didn't want to upset her even more. "Look, it's exactly nine o'clock, his Lordship is expecting you to join him at this very minute, so I suggest you follow me."
"What's he done to you?" she whispered, feeling tears well up in her eyes. "Tell me."
He closed his eyes for a second, breathed in and out, then looked at her again. "I took the heart of Davy Jones. I delivered it to Lord Beckett. He gave me my life back, and I am happy with it. He helped me, nothing else. I'm happy, ELIZABETH, everything is as it should be."
"Is it now?" she whispered, turning her back to him, closing her arms around herself. "You're not the same."
"Of course not. I lost you."
"Oh don't blame me for this, James!" she spat and turned around to face him. "I saw the real you after I found you in Tortuga, that was you, this is not you!"
"Elizabeth, stop talking like that!" he commanded and raised his hands. "I have to take you to Beckett, come on now."
"No, you need to talk to me." She was determined not to lose this, but so was he, and without thinking he grabbed her arm and started pulling her towards the door. She hadn't been this chocked in a long time, she didn't even bother to resist - she couldn't move. He looked so angry, so ashamed, and so... different.
This was not James. It could never be James.
The walls flew past her, she didn't even realize where he was taking her until they stopped behind this huge, thick red curtain. It wasn't all see-through, but she could see the shape of a man on the other side. He was not too tall, it had to be Beckett himself.
Suddenly she was struck by fear. "Please..."
Her plea was soft and gentle, yet full of agony. She looked into James' eyes, trying to reach him, reach something, that might still be there, but his gaze was empty yet stubborn, and she knew he wouldn't help her. Not this time.
"I hate you...", she whispered, ripped herself out of his grasp and pushed the curtain aside, stepping into her living hell.
*****
He'd heard them, loud and clear, and a small smile formed upon his lips as he heard her say the words 'i hate you'... oh, mission one was succeeded. She felt totally alone, abandoned, no one here would help her. Maybe it would just make it all easier... His intentions were to take everything she held dear away from her, break her until there was nothing left to break... he knew some of her soft spots.
But not all of them.
He didn't turn around as he heard the curtain move, he'd let her come to him if there was something, that needed to be said. Right now he was bending over a small rectangular table filled with bowls of grapes. He COULD HEAR Elizabeth swallow - she seemed a little frightened... and annoyed.
"You called for me", she said ironically, arms crossed over her chest. She felt really humiliated in the robe, even though she found it quite beautiful.
"I figured you had to be quite..." as he spoke he turned around, facing her, letting her see that he was considering choosing a dirty word to end the sentence with, but he didn't. "... hungry." He'd wanted to say something like 'lustful' or 'frustrated', but knew better. "Considering it's been a few days since you ate. I suspect no one offered you any food on my ship before you got here?"
"No." Her answer was short and clear, but she was still standing by the curtain, not wanting to move forward to the table. He'd have to pull her chair out if he wanted her to sit.
"Come on now, Miss Swann, please, sit down." It was not a wish, it was a demand, and she knew it, but did not move. He shook his head, let out a labored breath and started walking towards her.
She took a few steps back so that her back was against the curtain, she didn't like the way he moved, the way he dressed, it was too... intimate. He wasn't wearing a coat, or anything that actually made him 'Beckett'... if not for the wig. That still annoyed her. But he was walking fast now, his boots stumping against the wooden floor, making it crack, and before she knew it he had reached her, grabbed one of her wrists and pulled her towards him.
"Let go of me!" she demanded and tried to get herself loose, but his grip was, as always, firm. The hard force he'd used to pull her to him had made her crash into his chest, but she'd quickly moved back, still in his grip.
"Now, now, Miss Swann, the chef has been very kind and prepared something that hopefully will satisfy you completely." He couldn't help but smile. "Now, if you'd please... After you." He pulled her wrist and stepped aside at the same time so that she suddenly was in front of him, her back to him. His other hand caught her other wrist, not holding them behind her back, letting them remain at her sides, but still gripping her hard. He started to push her forward, slowly, to the table, and she obeyed, realizing she'd stumble forwards and hit the floor if she even tried to resist.
When they got to the table she swore he could hear the hungry noises from her stomach, it'd been days since she saw FOOD! He let go of her hands, pulled out the chair and gestured for her to sit down. With a cold look she moved in front of the chair to let him push it back in. Then she sat down, feeling quite uncomfortable.
It was a beautiful table, that she couldn't deny. It was perfect, it had everything she could hope for. Her gaze was fixated on the light bread and the sauces, they both looked so delicious. If she could just reach out...
Beckett had moved to the end of the table, only a few feet away from her chair, and now he was sitting down. He did not move, did not drink, he sat still and watched her. The muscles on her cheeks clenched and she tried to avoid his gaze, but after a few moments she found it to be impossible. He was controlling her with it.
"Go ahead", he suddenly said, and she jumped a bit. "Dig in." He waved at the bread, and he didn't need to command her twice: she stood up, reached for the bread and attacked it with all her might. Oh, how good it tasted, it was amazing... She took another bite, then found that she was thirsty, and discovered the filled glass next to her plate.
And there she goes, Beckett thought while reaching for the huge plate with the pork. He smiled widely, the candlelight throwing intense shadows onto his face, but she was too far gone to care, she was in ecstasy, hypnotized by all the food. He cut himself a piece of delicious pork, spiced it up with some pepper and then took a few sips of the fine wine. The food didn't taste as good in his mouth as it did in hers, that he was sure of.
"Chicken or pork?" he asked quietly, making her freeze and then turn to look at him.
"Chicken... please", she answered, and accepted the plate he was handing her. The grilled chicken on it looked delicious and greasy... she cut out a piece, took a bite... and then she was gone, she was in freaking' heaven.
Beckett ate quite delicately, not rushing, not making himself feel sick like Elizabeth did. As he chewed silently he watched her every move, very careful not to let her snap some of the knives from the table. He knew she'd kill him if she got the chance. That thought amused him, he could almost picture it in his mind: her slender fingers clawing at his chest, moving up to his throat, trying to strangle him, blinded with rage, he could see himself grab her hair, make her scream and twist in pain...
"What are you thinking about?" she suddenly asked, and awoke him from his daydream.
He chose not to answer her.
Minutes passed. Then hours. He had to admit that she was strong, she'd finished eating half an hour ago, but hadn't looked at him. Her blank stare was fixated on the candle in front of her plate.
It was an awkward silence from her point of view, he didn't care.
Even though she was there his mind was on something totally different, he wondered whether his men had reached the pirates, who were going to the world's end. He wanted Turner, Sao Feng, well, he already had Sao Feng, and then of course that bastard with the monkey, Hector... something. Beckett had heard all about him, he seemed to be so legendary. Oh how Beckett hated people who were more historical than he...
It was raining, they could hear that, there was going to be a storm. The shipped rocked, Elizabeth could see the wine in her glass move from side to side slowly... of course there wasn't much left, she'd filled her glass three times... and she felt quite weird now. It was a strange feeling... like she wanted to say something but didn't know what... and it wasn't in her mind, it was in her body.
"Enjoyed the meal?" He had to ask her.
"Yes." She answered politely, and swallowed. "It was quite... exquisite."
"Good."
"Mm."
"Now, if you'd please -"
"Lord Beckett, I have a few questions for you", she said quietly, looking down at her lap. The robe was very short, barely covered her upper thighs.
"Speak up then."
"Why are you keeping me here? What is it that you want from me? Why do you want to see my father killed? Don't deny it, I know you want to... Why do you care about the pirates, the world needs something good too, not just your evil doings."
Evil doings. He smiled, looked down, then met her gaze. She flinched, like his gaze was burning holes through her eyes. "You are asking ME questions. What makes you think that you are entitled to do that?"
"I... don't know", she admitted, slowly realizing she'd nothing to say, she couldn't outrun him in the game of speech.
"I have a proposition for you."
"A proposition?"
He nodded, got up, kept his hands behind his back, and started walking around in the room, very slowly, not looking at her, but very well knowing that her eyes were caught on him. "Seeing that what you desire is information, I am willing to make you.. an offer. Something that you'll only benefit from."
"Somehow I doubt that, knowing you."
"But oh, you do not know me", he laughed, turning around to face her. "What is it that you really KNOW about me?"
"I know you're a cruel man with absolutely no heart. You don't care about anything else than power and killing, it's all you live for. You don't feel love, compassion, sympathy, not even fear..." She just kept talking, not seeing how his face changed. "You don't feel anything. You're hollow, all you desire is control, all you like is torturing people, making them scream in pain and agony, you want people to see you as a God. But you won't do that to me. I will not break to threat you like a God. You're just a sad little piece of a man who had a fucked-up childhood."
Beckett flinched, her words hitting him hard in the face. She was quite good at reading people, but she wasn't all right. Although she thought so. "You really do think that you know everything, don't you?"
She had a I-do-not-understand-look on her face.
"Everything you just said is simply things that you have heard, they are rumors, which even more adds up to the fact that you don't know me."
Silence.
"Will you accept my proposition?"
"You haven't said what it includes."
"Oh, that's right!" he said, clapping his hands together once. "Ever heard of quid pro quo?"
Her face became white within a few seconds. "Yes."
"Ah, so you know what it is."
"Yes."
"Do you accept?"
"Can you be a little more.. specified?"
"You tell me things, I tell you things, anything I want to know, anything you want to know."
"How am I going to benefit from this?"
"If I get to hear everything I want to hear, I might be willing to spare your father and you."
"What about Will?"
"Mr Turner? What makes you think I'd want to spare him?"
"I know you don't, but I'm going to marry him as soon as he returns with the others. I love him."
"Ah, you expect me to believe that? You haven't spoken to him for, God knows how long, after dear old Jack Sparrow was swallowed by the Kraken... I think you feel guilty, you did something that hurt Turner, he just doesn't know what it was."
"Please stop."
"Why should I?"
"All right, I'll accept."
What? What had she just said? Her eyes flew open at the shock, the words had flown out of her mouth. What had she just agreed to?!
"Very well. Commodore Norrington?"
James Norrington immediately appeared from behind the curtain, looking quite pale and speechless.
"Please escort Miss Swann back to my cabin."
His cabin? Elizabeth swallowed. If she slept there, where would he sleep?
"Yes, Lord Beckett", James answered, grabbed Elizabeth’s arm and started pulling her towards the curtain.
"Wait! What, that's it?!"
"Well what did you expect?" Beckett asked calmly, his eyes glistening in the candlelight.
Elizabeth didn't know what to say, and before she knew it James Norrington had escorted her out of the room, leaving Beckett in the great hall.
Beckett smiled, looking at the empty plates on the big table. She had agreed. Oh my, it was certainly going to be an interesting week.
He was not formally dressed, not tonight. Of course he still wore his white wig, the pride of his life, but he wasn't wearing a coat nor a west; his white shirt was tucked into his black breeches, his boots black and shining in the candle light. It was that simple: white shirt and black pants. He'd always figured that his appearance scared the young miss Swann in a matter he could not explain, but he did not want her to fear him tonight. He had other plans.
The roomed was filled with candle-light, Beckett had to admit that he was afraid his wig would catch fire - not to mention her hair. But the light did form a nice, intense atmosphere in the dining salon, and he liked it. It was exactly as he had planned it...
There were two glasses of gold on the huge table in the dining-room, and he grabbed one of them - the one he was going to put next to Elizabeth's plate. His hand disappeared into one of his pockets and pulled out a little bottle. The blue liquid. He opened the cork, held the bottle over Elizabeth's glass, but then he suddenly changed his mind. Maybe it was too soon. He'd need to earn her trust, which was not an easy thing, but he was a very patient man - he could do it. So he put the bottle back into his pocket, filled Elizabeth's glass with the finest wine int he Caribbean, then he took a deep breath and smiled.
*****
She couldn't call it a dress. This was not a dress. It had to be something Asian, Chinese maybe. It was a goddamn robe!
The maids had come and given her a basket of things they'd thought she could need, like soap, towels, different affects she could use on her hair, and of course the dress. Except it was not a dress. It looked exactly like the blue robe she'd worn in Singapore, but this one was silk, black, and had some kind of silver things dangling from the collar... It had to be a joke. Wearing that or wearing nothing at all - it was the same thing.
Elizabeth bit her nails (it had become a bad habit during the last few months) and tried to think. She was all right, even though she was trembling with humiliation and fear... She had two choices: Play along and hope to survive, or fight as hell to survive. The first one did sound better, though the monster inside of her was exploding - she had to hurt Beckett with all she had... Otherwise her lust would never be satisfied.
There was a watch on the wall of Beckett's huge cabin, it pointed five to nine. She wondered whether someone was coming to pick her up, or was she just to find her own way to the dining-room? Not that it mattered... She had taken a bath in the huge bathtub (she hadn't realized there was a door in the room which led to a huge bathroom!), and her hair had almost dried by now, and she was considering putting it up. Would it look better?
Probably. Hang on, why did she feel a need to look good in the presence of Lord Cutler Beckett?
Now she'd lost her mind.
A small laugh escaped her lips as she let her light blue robe fall to the floor, then she picked up 'the dress', slid her arms into the sleeves and closed it.
She was quite surprised - it looked better than she'd expected. She touched the silk, watching herself in the middle, actually thinking... that she looked quite beautiful. Her eyes were dark, her hair had this honey glow in the candlelight, and her skin looked so pale, yet so tanned.
The maids had brought here a pair of golden ear-rings. Maybe they were the last touch her whole appearance needed, so she put them on,... and then decided to put her hair up - even though she had washed it, it looked a little dirty.
She had just finished her hair when she heard a loud knock on the door, and, to her great surprise, James Norrington entered.
"James!" she gasped, not knowing whether to run and hug him or back away. "What are you...?"
James felt a sudden rush of happiness fill his heart when he saw how beautiful she looked, though imprisoned. "Lord Beckett wants me to escort you to the great hall where you will dine with him... Miss Swann."
Her eyes widened and she clenched her teeth, trying to discover what James was keeping within. "What are you doing? He hasn't brainwashed you, I know that, why are you being so formal?"
"It happens to be my duty." He'd considered adding a 'miss' to the end, but he didn't want to upset her even more. "Look, it's exactly nine o'clock, his Lordship is expecting you to join him at this very minute, so I suggest you follow me."
"What's he done to you?" she whispered, feeling tears well up in her eyes. "Tell me."
He closed his eyes for a second, breathed in and out, then looked at her again. "I took the heart of Davy Jones. I delivered it to Lord Beckett. He gave me my life back, and I am happy with it. He helped me, nothing else. I'm happy, ELIZABETH, everything is as it should be."
"Is it now?" she whispered, turning her back to him, closing her arms around herself. "You're not the same."
"Of course not. I lost you."
"Oh don't blame me for this, James!" she spat and turned around to face him. "I saw the real you after I found you in Tortuga, that was you, this is not you!"
"Elizabeth, stop talking like that!" he commanded and raised his hands. "I have to take you to Beckett, come on now."
"No, you need to talk to me." She was determined not to lose this, but so was he, and without thinking he grabbed her arm and started pulling her towards the door. She hadn't been this chocked in a long time, she didn't even bother to resist - she couldn't move. He looked so angry, so ashamed, and so... different.
This was not James. It could never be James.
The walls flew past her, she didn't even realize where he was taking her until they stopped behind this huge, thick red curtain. It wasn't all see-through, but she could see the shape of a man on the other side. He was not too tall, it had to be Beckett himself.
Suddenly she was struck by fear. "Please..."
Her plea was soft and gentle, yet full of agony. She looked into James' eyes, trying to reach him, reach something, that might still be there, but his gaze was empty yet stubborn, and she knew he wouldn't help her. Not this time.
"I hate you...", she whispered, ripped herself out of his grasp and pushed the curtain aside, stepping into her living hell.
*****
He'd heard them, loud and clear, and a small smile formed upon his lips as he heard her say the words 'i hate you'... oh, mission one was succeeded. She felt totally alone, abandoned, no one here would help her. Maybe it would just make it all easier... His intentions were to take everything she held dear away from her, break her until there was nothing left to break... he knew some of her soft spots.
But not all of them.
He didn't turn around as he heard the curtain move, he'd let her come to him if there was something, that needed to be said. Right now he was bending over a small rectangular table filled with bowls of grapes. He COULD HEAR Elizabeth swallow - she seemed a little frightened... and annoyed.
"You called for me", she said ironically, arms crossed over her chest. She felt really humiliated in the robe, even though she found it quite beautiful.
"I figured you had to be quite..." as he spoke he turned around, facing her, letting her see that he was considering choosing a dirty word to end the sentence with, but he didn't. "... hungry." He'd wanted to say something like 'lustful' or 'frustrated', but knew better. "Considering it's been a few days since you ate. I suspect no one offered you any food on my ship before you got here?"
"No." Her answer was short and clear, but she was still standing by the curtain, not wanting to move forward to the table. He'd have to pull her chair out if he wanted her to sit.
"Come on now, Miss Swann, please, sit down." It was not a wish, it was a demand, and she knew it, but did not move. He shook his head, let out a labored breath and started walking towards her.
She took a few steps back so that her back was against the curtain, she didn't like the way he moved, the way he dressed, it was too... intimate. He wasn't wearing a coat, or anything that actually made him 'Beckett'... if not for the wig. That still annoyed her. But he was walking fast now, his boots stumping against the wooden floor, making it crack, and before she knew it he had reached her, grabbed one of her wrists and pulled her towards him.
"Let go of me!" she demanded and tried to get herself loose, but his grip was, as always, firm. The hard force he'd used to pull her to him had made her crash into his chest, but she'd quickly moved back, still in his grip.
"Now, now, Miss Swann, the chef has been very kind and prepared something that hopefully will satisfy you completely." He couldn't help but smile. "Now, if you'd please... After you." He pulled her wrist and stepped aside at the same time so that she suddenly was in front of him, her back to him. His other hand caught her other wrist, not holding them behind her back, letting them remain at her sides, but still gripping her hard. He started to push her forward, slowly, to the table, and she obeyed, realizing she'd stumble forwards and hit the floor if she even tried to resist.
When they got to the table she swore he could hear the hungry noises from her stomach, it'd been days since she saw FOOD! He let go of her hands, pulled out the chair and gestured for her to sit down. With a cold look she moved in front of the chair to let him push it back in. Then she sat down, feeling quite uncomfortable.
It was a beautiful table, that she couldn't deny. It was perfect, it had everything she could hope for. Her gaze was fixated on the light bread and the sauces, they both looked so delicious. If she could just reach out...
Beckett had moved to the end of the table, only a few feet away from her chair, and now he was sitting down. He did not move, did not drink, he sat still and watched her. The muscles on her cheeks clenched and she tried to avoid his gaze, but after a few moments she found it to be impossible. He was controlling her with it.
"Go ahead", he suddenly said, and she jumped a bit. "Dig in." He waved at the bread, and he didn't need to command her twice: she stood up, reached for the bread and attacked it with all her might. Oh, how good it tasted, it was amazing... She took another bite, then found that she was thirsty, and discovered the filled glass next to her plate.
And there she goes, Beckett thought while reaching for the huge plate with the pork. He smiled widely, the candlelight throwing intense shadows onto his face, but she was too far gone to care, she was in ecstasy, hypnotized by all the food. He cut himself a piece of delicious pork, spiced it up with some pepper and then took a few sips of the fine wine. The food didn't taste as good in his mouth as it did in hers, that he was sure of.
"Chicken or pork?" he asked quietly, making her freeze and then turn to look at him.
"Chicken... please", she answered, and accepted the plate he was handing her. The grilled chicken on it looked delicious and greasy... she cut out a piece, took a bite... and then she was gone, she was in freaking' heaven.
Beckett ate quite delicately, not rushing, not making himself feel sick like Elizabeth did. As he chewed silently he watched her every move, very careful not to let her snap some of the knives from the table. He knew she'd kill him if she got the chance. That thought amused him, he could almost picture it in his mind: her slender fingers clawing at his chest, moving up to his throat, trying to strangle him, blinded with rage, he could see himself grab her hair, make her scream and twist in pain...
"What are you thinking about?" she suddenly asked, and awoke him from his daydream.
He chose not to answer her.
Minutes passed. Then hours. He had to admit that she was strong, she'd finished eating half an hour ago, but hadn't looked at him. Her blank stare was fixated on the candle in front of her plate.
It was an awkward silence from her point of view, he didn't care.
Even though she was there his mind was on something totally different, he wondered whether his men had reached the pirates, who were going to the world's end. He wanted Turner, Sao Feng, well, he already had Sao Feng, and then of course that bastard with the monkey, Hector... something. Beckett had heard all about him, he seemed to be so legendary. Oh how Beckett hated people who were more historical than he...
It was raining, they could hear that, there was going to be a storm. The shipped rocked, Elizabeth could see the wine in her glass move from side to side slowly... of course there wasn't much left, she'd filled her glass three times... and she felt quite weird now. It was a strange feeling... like she wanted to say something but didn't know what... and it wasn't in her mind, it was in her body.
"Enjoyed the meal?" He had to ask her.
"Yes." She answered politely, and swallowed. "It was quite... exquisite."
"Good."
"Mm."
"Now, if you'd please -"
"Lord Beckett, I have a few questions for you", she said quietly, looking down at her lap. The robe was very short, barely covered her upper thighs.
"Speak up then."
"Why are you keeping me here? What is it that you want from me? Why do you want to see my father killed? Don't deny it, I know you want to... Why do you care about the pirates, the world needs something good too, not just your evil doings."
Evil doings. He smiled, looked down, then met her gaze. She flinched, like his gaze was burning holes through her eyes. "You are asking ME questions. What makes you think that you are entitled to do that?"
"I... don't know", she admitted, slowly realizing she'd nothing to say, she couldn't outrun him in the game of speech.
"I have a proposition for you."
"A proposition?"
He nodded, got up, kept his hands behind his back, and started walking around in the room, very slowly, not looking at her, but very well knowing that her eyes were caught on him. "Seeing that what you desire is information, I am willing to make you.. an offer. Something that you'll only benefit from."
"Somehow I doubt that, knowing you."
"But oh, you do not know me", he laughed, turning around to face her. "What is it that you really KNOW about me?"
"I know you're a cruel man with absolutely no heart. You don't care about anything else than power and killing, it's all you live for. You don't feel love, compassion, sympathy, not even fear..." She just kept talking, not seeing how his face changed. "You don't feel anything. You're hollow, all you desire is control, all you like is torturing people, making them scream in pain and agony, you want people to see you as a God. But you won't do that to me. I will not break to threat you like a God. You're just a sad little piece of a man who had a fucked-up childhood."
Beckett flinched, her words hitting him hard in the face. She was quite good at reading people, but she wasn't all right. Although she thought so. "You really do think that you know everything, don't you?"
She had a I-do-not-understand-look on her face.
"Everything you just said is simply things that you have heard, they are rumors, which even more adds up to the fact that you don't know me."
Silence.
"Will you accept my proposition?"
"You haven't said what it includes."
"Oh, that's right!" he said, clapping his hands together once. "Ever heard of quid pro quo?"
Her face became white within a few seconds. "Yes."
"Ah, so you know what it is."
"Yes."
"Do you accept?"
"Can you be a little more.. specified?"
"You tell me things, I tell you things, anything I want to know, anything you want to know."
"How am I going to benefit from this?"
"If I get to hear everything I want to hear, I might be willing to spare your father and you."
"What about Will?"
"Mr Turner? What makes you think I'd want to spare him?"
"I know you don't, but I'm going to marry him as soon as he returns with the others. I love him."
"Ah, you expect me to believe that? You haven't spoken to him for, God knows how long, after dear old Jack Sparrow was swallowed by the Kraken... I think you feel guilty, you did something that hurt Turner, he just doesn't know what it was."
"Please stop."
"Why should I?"
"All right, I'll accept."
What? What had she just said? Her eyes flew open at the shock, the words had flown out of her mouth. What had she just agreed to?!
"Very well. Commodore Norrington?"
James Norrington immediately appeared from behind the curtain, looking quite pale and speechless.
"Please escort Miss Swann back to my cabin."
His cabin? Elizabeth swallowed. If she slept there, where would he sleep?
"Yes, Lord Beckett", James answered, grabbed Elizabeth’s arm and started pulling her towards the curtain.
"Wait! What, that's it?!"
"Well what did you expect?" Beckett asked calmly, his eyes glistening in the candlelight.
Elizabeth didn't know what to say, and before she knew it James Norrington had escorted her out of the room, leaving Beckett in the great hall.
Beckett smiled, looking at the empty plates on the big table. She had agreed. Oh my, it was certainly going to be an interesting week.