A/N: Ah! Sorry about no preview for the last chapter. This chapter is a lot of background, as the title suggests. I'm sorry if it bores you. The next chapter, however, is MUCH more exciting!

Chapter 15: Remembrance

Warnings: cursin'

Beckett had his motives for this act of good nature. No one in town need know he was around, not even the good doctor. No one in town knew his first name; they merely knew him as Commodore Beckett of the Royal Navy.

Within moments a bearded white-haired old man appeared at the door, peeping out of the opening suspiciously.

"Hello," Elizabeth greeted him warmly. "I was wondering if you could help me. I have had a pr—"

"Do you know the time?" the doctor crankily replied. "It's not yet sunrise!" His English was rather good and very understandable.

"This issue only occurs in the morning, and if I came later, I may not remember the exact symptoms," she explained, hoping this description would suffice.

He let out a little sigh, not in the mood to argue so early in the day. He was too good-natured to turn down a patient, especially such a beautiful young female who looked to be relatively healthy, if not a tad on the slender side.

"Very well. Come in."

Upon entering, the doctor led Elizabeth back into the examination room (essentially, a bathroom) where he had an array of tools.

Beckett paced nervously in the entrance room, all the negative memories of this island flooding into him.

She had been working as a doctor's assistant in the office when I and my wounded comrades were brought in to Dr. Serpa. She was an unusual beauty; her eyes were the richest blue, like that of the clear Caribbean Sea, yet her hair was dark auburn and curly. Slightly taller than me… then again—who bloody isn't—and quite slender. When she first spoke, concerned about the condition of my sutures, I think that's when I first realized I was falling for her. Vivacious, highly knowledgeable, clever. Obviously intelligent, to be working as a doctor's assistant, and a good one, at that. Very good grasp of the English language, as well as a sharp wit… dry, like my own. Rather short temper for a woman of her appearance, though, the sort of temper that was reserved for stocky barmaid wenches having lived difficult lives. Very fluent in English, though when she'd get frustrated with the doctor she'd curse in Portuguese. Had a good deal of frown lines and smile lines both, making her appear older than she actually was. Must have had an adventurous streak, for there was some sort of tattoo on her back. Never did figure out what it was. Should've stolen a look after she died….

Whilst I was recovering, I informed her of my interest on several occasions, but she simply ignored me and walked away.

I tried several more times during the healing process to make her fix my pillows or tuck my blanket in, just so she would touch me. Guess I wasn't hard to please back then…Then again, I suppose I haven't changed much…. Apparently a simple nuance of motion during an act of punishment is enough to set me over the edge…. At that time, though, I always thrilled when she had to examine the sutures on the formerly gaping wound on my upper thigh. That was the closest I'd ever come to getting her to do what I really wanted. However, my requests to court her fell on deaf ears. Even though she was fluent in English, she'd always speak to me—or about me, more than likely— in Portuguese. I wanted to marry her, this caring, intelligent, strong-willed woman. In my rather privileged youth, I never had to hear the word 'no', and her refusal was a shock to my system, to say the least. And yet, it made me even more determined to win her over. Such a stubborn fool I was. A month went by.

Upon recovering, I followed her back to her home. Day after day I'd wait outside and see her emerge from the home with a child. Later upon my getting the nerve to approach her outside of Dr. Serpa's office, she told me that the child was hers. However, she was not married. She was a shame to her family, she admitted, but that didn't matter to her. I then offered to marry her, to take her and her child away from this place. I think I even fell to one knee, the bloody fool I was. I promised that she would be rich and happy and secure for the rest of her life if she would leave with me. She told me that she was waiting for someone.

Even her family wanted her to marry me! She would bring them honour if she did so, marrying such a well-off fellow with 'such potential,' as they put it. She would no longer be a burden to her family, having to live at home with her young child.

Again and again, as the most critically wounded of my crew continued to recover, I tried to convince her to leave, and each time she'd refuse me.

Before I was to finally leave the Azores with the now healed-up Royal Navy, I became desperate. Foolishly I revealed to my good chum Mercer my love for this woman, and how much I wanted her, how I wanted to 'steal her away from this rotten place', as it were. Turns out, he takes things too literally…. I do recall being almost in tears that night at the prospect of leaving her behind in the Azores… perhaps for forever. I'd grown up knowing Mercer, for Mercer was my father's good chum, even though they were a decade apart in age. When I went off to the service, apparently my father told Mercer to look out for me, and thus, an unlikely friendship began between me and this man sixteen years my senior.

The night before the Royal Navy was to leave, Mercer kidnapped her from her home, and stowed her below-deck on the Royal Navy's ship. She must have fought him, for I noticed there were many scratches and bruises all over her skin. I didn't even learn of Mercer's actions until the following day, after we were already a distance away from the Azores, when Mercer brought me down to see her in the brig. I was immediately pissed at the fact that Mercer hadn't brought the child along as well. Mercer then insisted to me right in front of her that I hadn't mentioned a child, and so he only grabbed her. So of course the rest of the trip consisted of my denial of planning to kidnap her and her child, and understandably, she refused to believe me. She sat every day in the brig, refusing to speak to anyone, refusing to eat, even. I didn't have the heart to force her to eat, so she slowly shriveled away….

Eventually, I decided that it was killing me inside to force her to stay against her will, and so we headed back to the Azores. On the way back, she became increasingly weak and ill, and died. It was said that a latent infection lingering in some of the healing crewmates had killed her. Mercer blamed himself, claiming that the wounds she acquired from being kidnapped that night became infected, leading to her death, but I knew better. She had died of a broken heart.

Even so, I held it over Mercer's head his foolish choice to kidnap (and whatever else his own guilt told him, which I did not correct) his good chum the General's potential daughter-in-law, and his good chum the General's only son's only love. He paid for it his entire life in servitude to me. However, I tend to think he ended up being rewarded in his decision to become my servant, in that he became second-in-command to my lordship over the East India Trading Company.

Beckett walked back and forth in the doctor's home, hearing a muffled yet happy exclamation coming from the examination room. He was too deep in his reverie, and so ignored it. Her family probably assumes she gave in to my constant barrage of proposals, and stole away with me in the night. They're much better off never knowing what exactly happened.

Elizabeth suddenly appeared in front of him, startling him out of his reverie. His eyes must have gone completely blank in the time that he was reminiscing. He snapped back to reality. Not much time now, before I am redeemed.

"Bec—Cutler," she said, snapping her fingers in front of his face. He blinked woozily.

"What?" he asked, looking indignant, extremely relieved she had obeyed his wish. That was close. What if the doctor remembered him?

"I found out what's going on," she said.

He looked at her, anticipation on his face. She gave him a huge smile, unexpectedly throwing her arms around him with joy and giddiness, hugging him tightly.

"I'm pregnant!"

The pair left the doctor's office hastily, Elizabeth bidding the sweetest adieus to the good doctor. He smiled back, probably assuming that Beckett and Elizabeth were a couple. They didn't try to correct him. Beckett was glad that she had hugged him, not only because it would throw the doctor off the path of discovering his identity, but also because, well, it was rather nice….

Once they were back on the street, Beckett looked across the dirt road at the embassy, a faint light emanating from inside. There were certainly men of the Royal Navy inside, men that would take Elizabeth from him, and instead of them paying him any type of reward, he would convince them to simply accept him back into their ranks in exchange for the pirate king… the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow's right-hand woman. They would see his true allegiance and his reputation would be restored. Yes, at this moment they're probably sipping tea and prodding through their dull lives, perhaps able to seduce the female townsfolk into marriage and lives of comfort… unlike me. Well, I'll give them something to do.

He looked at Elizabeth, who was holding her stomach, her eyes closed very peacefully, mouth drawn up into a genuine smile.

No time to be sentimental, he mused. This is something I must do to redeem myself… once and for all.

With that he grabbed her arm very tightly, ignoring the yelp of discomfort she emitted from the rough handling. Fear and confusion flashed in her eyes, but he took no heed.

A/N: Sorry for this sort of background info chapter. Hopefully it filled some holes in as to the nature of Beckett's relationship with this woman.

Ah, and as I did forget to do so last chapter:

Preview for next chapter:

If Elizabeth later on angrily demanded his reasoning for it, he could lie, explaining that he was merely preventing being recognized, and that the situation had called for desperate measures.