Author's Note: Welcome to chapter two of Rubicon! This chapter consists of Lord Beckett's first diary entry. I would like to say thanks to all those who read and reviewed the previous chapter, Rachel Sparrow, sudoku, ElfLuver13, and Astraeas Dreams. As always, I do not have a beta for this fic, so any errors that appear are my fault and my fault alone. I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of Pirates of the Caribbean.

March 15, 1731

Log,

It has grown dark and I must now write by candlelight. Oh for a reprieve from this blasted heat. Even the dawn hours bring little coolness, only hot breezes that follow me from room to room and threaten my very sanity. I pray for rain and the afternoon brings storms, so violent and vicious I fear all the ships in the harbor might be blown away.

It is an irrational fear though. I have not lost a ship these seven months past. The sea may stir and howl, vent its very rage upon the shore but I am not concerned. In fact, I am rather pleased with the way things have turned out.

For it was seven months ago that a peculiar man, a reduced gentleman, presented me with so coveted a treasure, so great a boon. I've kept it locked away, stored in the bowels of some unknown room and under a heavy guard. Only the most wretched men may watch over it. They are like rats, frightened of the sun and any goodness. I have them under strict orders and they are not to question me, unless they wish to face a speedy death.

Fortunately, there has been no curiosity on their part.

As for my newly acquired ship, whose name I keep only in my mind, she continues to prowl the waves. I am proud of her but I should never set foot upon her deck. No, that would be most useless. I have no need to converse with the crew. I leave that duty to one James Norrington.

He is a strange sort of man, blighted by old pain and wounds of the heart. He came to me so desperate, so very willing to do what I asked. Norrington is the perfect sort of man to employ. He has nothing to lose, no family, no fortune. And he will do whatever is required of him.

As of now, I have sent him upon a most important errand. Norrington knows not to fail. Death would be the least of worries should his charges come to harm.

I sent him to England upon a swift little ship to fetch dear Anne and our son. He is good for such a task, easily humbled and compliant. Anne shall have no trouble with him. She is a firm woman and will have her way. I know she will interrogate him, drag every bit of information out of him if necessary. And he will comply. James Norrington knows to abide my wife just as he abides me.

I also commanded him to put to rest a matter which has troubled me for some time, that of Anne's uncle. I was patient with the man, exceedingly patient. I conducted myself as a gentleman, but he stooped to lowest form of defamation. What sort of man calls his own niece a whore? A foolish man, I wager.

I shall never forget the day I asked him for Anne's hand. Her father had died some years before and he was left as her guardian, along with her mother.

What a haughty man he was!

No, he said at once. And he glared at me as though I was a filthy street urchin begging for a coin.

When I inquired as to his reasoning, he crossed his arms and raised his head, acting like a king's son.

"You will lead her to misery," he declared. "I have heard the rumors. You are a cruel man, an evil man and Anne is an innocent. I should rather her wed a blacksmith than a lord such as you!"

If that is not proof of the man's idiocy, I do not know what is. Marry a blacksmith? Dear God!

In the end, he had little say. Anne chose her fate and how glad I am for it. She is my most cherished wife, my lovely wife. I should have it no other way.

Let her uncle rot in the fires of hell. Whoever seeks to sunder lovers is indeed worthy of Lucifer's realm.

My thoughts now turn to my son whom I have never met. According to Anne's letters he is a well-mannered child, a true nobleman. I shall admit I anticipated fatherhood as a distant thing, but not quite this distant. I find I miss him, my young son. It is a very strange thing to miss someone you do not know.

I should hope he is not akin to the brats I have come across, maddened little creatures who disobey every law known to man. That should be most insufferable. But Anne's kindliness has assuredly molded his character and I hope to add my own stern resolution to his manner.

I wonder what he looks like.

And what of Anne? I wonder if she has changed much. The tone of her letters suggests her usual spirit, strong, calm and of course mischievous. But it has been over a year and time wears on even the strongest person. The absence of her manner, her voice, her very touch has left a void in my life. It is selfish, I suppose, for one person to so depend on another. But I was never one for selfless acts.

I have asked her here to better her health but in truth, I sorely miss her. I want her to be with me, to be by my side when age old evils come crashing down into the waves and leave nothing but civility and glory.

Useless worries have plagued my mind. I have imagined Anne's ship running aground and imagined the terrors that dwell beneath the endless black. But the ship will come to port. I have assured myself of such. She will come to port.

But my assurances have not put a stop to my dreams. I find them strange and so utterly mystifying. Some would call them shameful. I dream that I am bewitched by a woman, a woman with braids in her hair and dark skin. She dances amongst the stars and the slick rocks that line the shore. And though I might pursue her, tirelessly, she will not be caught.

I am sure Anne would not be pleased with such. I shall not mention it to her. Never should I wish to cause her upset.

The moon is so bright now, I have just noticed. So bright and full and round.

There is a call below stairs. Mr. Mercer, I believe. He is calling me.

Lord Cutler Beckett