Author's note: Hello and welcome to chapter twelve of "Rubicon". I have decided to spilt Lord Beckett's diary entry in half, otherwise this chapter would be too long. So look for the concluding half next chapter. I'd like to thank everyone who has taken the time to read and Astraeas Dreams for reviewing the last chapter. As always, I do not have a beta for this fic, so any mistakes that appear are my fault and my fault alone. Enjoy!

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

May 4, 1731

Log,

It is early morn and dawn approaches. I have never been happier to see the rising sun and the mist that slips over the hills. The air is cool and soft and it washes away the stench of blood. Good God, there was blood everywhere….

I have stepped outside our guest chamber at Lord Nesbitt's plantation, if only for a moment. The corridor is quiet and no one in the house stirs. Even the servants seem to slumber, unless they are invisible shadows, passing through the rooms unnoticed.

But I suppose I am too weary to notice anything.

I do not hesitate to say that last night was the very worst in my life. It all seems like a horrid nightmare now as I try to piece it together.

It began the night before just after dinner. Anne and I had quarreled. The subject of our son's education was mentioned and she became fierce and wild. Perhaps now I attribute her rage to her illness. But by God, I cannot think of it now.

In the midst of our rather heated debate, a message was brought to me from Admiral Norrington in Port Royal. I could tell the man was panicked. His handwriting looked tight and nervous.

As it seemed, Davy Jones (I use his name freely now) refused to sail to the pirate port I had ordered him to raid. Norrington provided me no reason for Jones' sudden rebellion but begged me to return straight away. The captain of the Flying Dutchman would heed no threat and it was perceived that only I had true power over him, having possession of his heart.

But I did not wish to leave Anne. She had collapsed or so it seemed and I thought she looked horrible. However, she would not let me stay by her side and bid me go. So haughty she can be sometimes, fatally so perhaps.

The coach was brought about and I left the plantation. And as we trotted down the long drive to the road, I glanced at the small window that marked our chamber. I should have turned right around at that very moment.

Oh had I known. Had I known.

I came to Port Royal before dawn and the streets were quiet. The coach pulled directly up to Fort Raleigh and Norrington stood at the gate. His hat was in his hands.

"My lord, I am so sorry for this disturbance," he said the moment I stepped down from the coach. "I am so very sorry. But Jones, he refuses to sail."

I waved him away, for most annoyed was I and hurried up to my office. Inside, Mr. Mercer stood and his face was long in the last light of the moon.

"Jones has pulled his cursed ship into the port," he said and I grimaced.

"Are you both mad to have him do so?" I asked. "Have it removed by dawn before all the world sees. Have him put out to sea!"

"Yes my lord." And Norrington hurried off to do his duty. I found my chair and sat and watched the shadows that died on the walls. I hoped that only the rascally drunkards wandering by the docks would have a tale to tell. And none believed them.

After a while, I called Mercer to me.

"Where is the heart?" I asked and he seemed shocked by my question.

"Locked away as always, my lord," he said at once.

"Make sure," I said. And he rushed off down to the black dungeons. My fear began to grow after some time had passed and neither he nor Norrington had returned.

I stood and paced and many a chill washed over me. At last, both Mercer and Norrington came stumbling in.

"Well?" I demanded of them. Mercer caught his breath first.

"It's safe, my lord. I saw it myself," he said. I tried not to show my relief. Instead, I nodded and turned to Norrington.

"Has Jones put out to sea?"

"Yes, he has. Not far away he is, but far enough not to be seen. He still refuses to sail though," Norrington said. I frowned and turned to the window. Dawn touched the horizon.

"Have you threatened him?" I asked.

"He would heed nothing I said," Norrington replied. "In fact, he has asked for you."

I turned around and fear tormented me. What could Jones think to benefit from a meeting with me? Certainly, he did not believe he could convince me to release him from servitude?

I did not want to meet with him, the stories alone had chilled me.

"That will not be necessary," I said. But both Norrington and Mercer continued to stare at.

"We cannot leave him anchored at sea, my lord," Norrington said.

"What use would he be of then?" Mercer asked.

For the first time, it seemed Norrington and Mercer had found something to agree upon.

Once more, I looked out over the harbor to where the sea churned. It could all be lost just as easily as it had been gained.

"Very well," I said at last. "But I will meet with him for only a brief time."

Norrington seemed relieved and the lines that creased his brow faded. "Thank you, my lord," he said and left to arrange the strange affair.

I waited with Mercer for a short while. Norrington sent word that all was ready and we took a small vessel out to where Jones had my ship.

It was a frightful thing, I must say. So very frightful and wretched and bleak. At first I did not believe it to be a ship at all, but rather a huge reef raised from the floor of the sea. But a great mast reached towards the light sky and the hull jerked along the waves. I hesitated a brief moment before boarding and tried to quell my nerves.

It would not do well to appear nervous in front of Jones. The vessel I sailed in drew closer to the ghastly ship and I boarded. A foul stench brushed away the brisk sea breezes and a crimson sun rose. The wind seemed to bleed with the harsh light.

At first it seemed we (Norrington, Mercer and I) stood upon the deck alone. There were no sailors to be seen and only a few marines moved about. They were all pale, I noted, made of thin skin and bones.

And then there came a slow sound, a thumping almost, like a heart. Thump, thump, thump. I grasped my sword. Thump, thump, thump. It went on and on and from the top deck a creature strode, a beast.

I could not tell if he was man or demon. His flesh was slick with sea water. Tentacles formed his beard and he had great claws for hands.

"Lord Beckett?" He spoke like a man of England though, in a clear and easy voice.

I nodded. "Jones?"

"Aye."

"Where is your crew?" I asked and I was happy for the strength of my tone.

Jones moved across the deck, but did not draw close to me. "Below. Best we settle this matter ourselves, I think."

"Very well," I replied. "But there is no matter to settle. You have your orders. Why do you not hasten to obey?"

Jones did not respond at once. He massive shoulders shifted and he regarded me with surprisingly bright eyes. "I'd rather not raid that specific port," he said at last.

"Why?" I asked.

"A personal matter, my lord. I made my home there for a time, as a lad."

I could not picture the creature as a lad and I squinted, searching for the remnants of humanity in his face. "All the more reason then."

"It's a calm place," he said. "Quiet-like. No harm done there. Let it be, my lord, let it be."

Was he begging, I thought. No, a creature like that could not beg. I scowled at him.

"You have your orders, captain."

He grunted or so I thought and sighed. "But, my lord-

"There is a dagger poised above your heart, Jones," I said sharply. "And at any moment I might give the command to have it rip into your flesh. Should you like that?"

I waited for him to respond to my threat, but he did not. Satisfied, I turned to leave. Perhaps the monster could be controlled, I decided. Easily controlled.

But I had not set my foot on the boarding plank when Jones called out to me.

"Your wife is sickly, eh Beckett?"

I froze and a darkness filled me. The sun was spilling red across the waves.

"Your little wife," he said. "A poor, sickly young thing."

I did not turn about, nor did I pay any mind to the stares of Norrington and Mercer.

"The dagger inches closer!" I cried and hurried back to my vessel. As we departed, I watched the Dutchman sail away. And I wished never to see it again.

A messenger from Lord Nesbitt awaited me in Port Royal. I had not stepped off the boat when he came running up the dock, crying out.

"Lord Beckett! Lord Beckett! Your wife's taken ill, sir!" he cried. "You must come. The doctor fears her death."

I remember little else of that morning and afternoon, which passes before my eyes in a panicked blur. But I fear I shan't tell the full of it now. Doctor Carey calls me from the hall. I must go.

Lord Cutler Beckett

Author's Note: The next one-shot "Blessings" will be up on Monday. Thanks for reading!