A/N: A shorter chapter, but it was as long as it needed to be. I'm so excited to start writing these dorks really getting to know each other.

When Theo woke up the next morning, she was sure that she'd just had one of the best sleeps of her entire life. And yet, it was something that had weighed on her strangely all morning. She'd dwelled on it as Hattie had helped her dress - thankfully she'd broached no argument when Theo had insisted on at least putting on the first couple of layers herself before the maid could step in to help her into a dress she'd borrowed from her - and continued to dwell on it over a breakfast of porridge and milk.

So deep in thought was she, that when her host made his presence known with a "good morning" as he took up the seat opposite her at the table, she almost jumped out of her skin.

"I didn't mean to startle you," he regarded her with something she couldn't quite place.

Concern, was it? With how skilled he was at masking his thoughts, it was difficult to tell. He was dressed in his usual uniform, but notably wigless. Theo blinked in surprise, unable to help but notice that he was rather handsome without it, his dark collar-length hair tied back neatly at the nape of his neck. She'd seen him without the wig, of course, but never in person - only in the second movie. Back then, she'd always assumed the long hair was just a choice of the make-up and costume department to make him look a little more ragged. Apparently not.

"Oh, no - sorry - you didn't, I just…" she gave herself a mental shake, forcing herself back into the present "I didn't recognise you - y'know, without the wig."

She'd half expected an unamused sigh in response, or perhaps an eyeroll. But to her great surprise he gave a huff that sounded remarkably close to a laugh, taking up his own spoon.

"I could say the same for you - clean and suitably dressed," he paused for a moment, but when she snorted he continued, a little more kindly "I don't tend to wear the wig in my own home - but if it unsettles you so, I can start."

Was that a joke? From the inscrutable James Norrington? Such an idea felt more inconceivable than waking up in a fictional universe owned by Disney. What next? Would Mickey Mouse saunter past the window, whistling a cheery little tune?

"No, no…I'll, er, I'll manage," she found herself reluctant to let the newfound amicability between them die, despite the fact that she had no idea where it had come from "But if you'd like I could return the favour - roll around in the garden 'til I looked like my old mad self."

She'd manage to pretend she hadn't noticed how handsome he was without the wig. Oh, he was hardly ugly with it, but it was a bit of an attention-grabber. Without it, his features were all the more striking - classically handsome.

"I think we might both make do," he replied.

Theo gave a tight-lipped smile in an attempt to hide any awkwardness that she felt, and turned her attention back to her breakfast. There was just no avoiding it - it was awkward. In fact, it had several layers of awkward, wrapping her up tightly in them until she could barely breathe without some intense concentration. Even in her own time, she'd have found it awkward to be sat at breakfast with a man she hardly knew. Oh, she had friends who were utter social butterflies - who could talk to strangers as if they'd known them for years with not an awkward silence to be found - but she was not one of them. The worlds and centuries that lay between them only served to cement the death sentence that her mind was keen to lay upon any hopes of a real conversation between the two of them; one not constantly halting and made all the more excruciatingly awkward for the effort that had to be put into it, at least.

Her own secrets and worries contributed to her unease, of course, but there was still more to it. She hated being so…dependent. And yes, she tried to appease her discomfort by remembering the fact that all women were dependent in some way or another in these times. It was simply how things were. It helped little. The fact that it was near enough a stranger helping her so much added salt to the wound, yes, but even with her own friends and family she had always been the sort who would rather spend a day seeing to a task on her own than ask for help and have it take an hour.

Sitting here, in her borrowed dress (a deep forest green, that Hattie insisted looked glorious with her colouring), eating food that did not belong to her and had not been prepared by her, even resisting the urge to prod at an updo that her hair had been bundled into by somebody else…none of it sat well with her at all. Not in the slightest. Only the boots on her feet were truly her own, and they looked ridiculous when not covered by her skirts…which they mostly were not, because Hattie was a good head shorter than her. It wasn't even about control. Mostly, it was just embarrassing. She didn't even have any way that she could repay the kindness, even if it was masked in duty and honour. He'd said it himself - he could have taken her to the church, whether she liked it or not. The fact that he had not was just that — kindness.

Much of his behaviour could be attributed to a good heart, the more she considered it. He'd let her keep the knife, he'd given up his quarters for her back on the ship, he'd seen that she had something to wear, that she wasn't disturbed…and after finding her playing at being Rambo in the jungle, he hadn't had her shipped off to the closest asylum. No, whether he wanted it acknowledged or not, James Norrington was a kind man. It made a cold sort of nausea ebb just at the edges of her senses when she considered the fate she knew he would meet.

"Who in your family was in the military?" She spoke in an effort to wash those thoughts away "Your father?"

"How did you know?"

"Military brats know military brats," she shrugged a little "Same way you knew it about me. You just get a sense for these things."

"Military brats?" He echoed doubtfully, shaking his head with a snort "Is that the official term used in Ireland?"

Three-hundred years from now, sure.

"Not as insulting as it probably sounds," she gave a sheepish smile "It's just…a name for the lifestyle. It doesn't really allow you to lay down roots like a typical family, y'know? You never know where the next order will take you, or when it'll come."

"It certainly doesn't allow much room for homesickness. Perhaps that will aid you, in your time here."

It was a question masquerading as a statement. Or even a half-hearted interrogation, masked as a question, masquerading as a statement. It didn't seem so from his tone, but certainly from the way she felt his eyes linger on her even as she turned her attention back stirring her porridge.

"Home is wherever I am," she said finally.

She wasn't being entirely truthful. Home was Ireland. Home would always be Ireland. There was nothing like that feeling of belonging after coming back from travelling - stepping off of a plane, or a ferry, and just being awash with the warm and comforting sensation of finally being home. But dwelling on such things would do her no good here, so she would not. She refused to…she'd do her best not to. And that included putting on a face of indifference. It helped that if she insisted too much on missing home, he might book her passage there, and then she'd really be screwed.

"I quite agree," was his only response, after the briefest of pauses.

It was warmer than she expected. When she looked up, partially out of surprise, his attention was back on his own breakfast once again…but when she looked back down again, she swore she felt his gaze on her once again.

After breakfast, Norrington disappeared off to do whatever his job required of him when he wasn't actually out at sea, and Hattie set upon her with an enthusiasm absolutely not suited to such an early hour in the morning. When she revealed that her excitement was because she'd been given the day off in order to help her amass whatever supplies she'd need to begin her new life here, Theo realised just why the girl was so happy - she had to be enthusiastic for the both of them.

The dresses here weren't bad. They weren't exactly what she'd choose, but they didn't even reach the top five when it came to her list of problems with this time. In fact, she was pleasantly surprised by them. Maybe it was all of the corset jokes from the first movie, or how many other movies featured women clinging onto bedposts, gasping for breath while they were laced tightly into their dresses, but it seemed the reality was far less dramatic. Hattie had been downright gentle, really, as she'd laced her into the many layers that went into even such a simple dress, constantly asking her if she was alright or in any pain. The questions had left Theo confused, but mostly she was just happy to realise she wasn't doomed to spend all of her time here gasping for air or nursing fractured ribs…Which freed her mind up for other worries.

"I feel terrible about this," she sighed by the time she was being measured in the shop belonging to Port Royal's tailor in residence.

"You're only getting what you need, Miss," Hattie argued "We're hardly commissioning six ball gowns."

Thank god for that.

"Still, it's not fair that Captain Norrington should have to foot the bill, I'm making a burden of myself."

"It'd be a mark on his name were you to run around in rags and scraps while in his care," came Hattie's response - then she hesitated, before stepping closer to add quietly "And anyway, the whole thing isn't entirely without benefit for him."

"Oh?" Theo frowned.

The seamstress finished taking the last of the measurements, but Hattie waited until she left the room to allow her to redress before she began to explain.

"It…sends a message. If he can house you in comfort until you can make more permanent arrangements, any young ladies who are…let us say paying attention…will know that he's more than capable of looking after them, too. It's a show of both financial capability, and honour."

So…she was the human equivalent of a puppy or a baby that a guy took to the park to help him pick up women. Or one woman in particular, she supposed, in Norrington's case. How flattering. But, whatever jokes she made (strictly mentally, at that), that small bit of news did lift her spirits just a bit. It made her feel like less of an absolute leech, at least.

"I see," she mused.

Hattie's touch was feather light as she laced her back into the outermost layers of her borrowed dress "You're not uncomfortable, are you? It's not too tight?"

The question was strangely anxious.

"What? Oh, no - it's fine. Thank you."

"It's…it's not that he's acting out of self interest, Miss Theodora - the captain, I mean," Hattie hastened to add, returning to the primary topic of interest "Even if it were nothing but an inconvenience, Captain Norrington is a good man…all I'm saying is that it's not entirely without benefit for him, all the same, so it's best not to let it weigh on your conscience."

"I understand, it's fine…It's a relief to know," she offered her best attempt at a reassuring smile "So what is there to do around here?"

"Miss?" Hattie frowned.

"I can't be expected to just sit around Captain Norrington's house all day."

Oh, how she hoped she wouldn't be expected to do that. She'd go mad well before Jack deigned to turn up. The quiet moments were the worst - even the small ones, between doing other things. There had been hardly an hour between breakfast and their leaving for this fitting, and even that had been almost enough to drive her mad. Yes, there had been plenty of that so far already, but she could at least occupy herself with other, more immediate worries. Now, though? With a quenched thirst and a full belly? Now her mind was beginning to drift towards home. That was dangerous.

"I expect you'll receive some sort of social invitation before the week is out," Hattie replied, nodding slowly as her bright blue eyes scanned the shop in thought "The ladies of the island will be keen to hear about your adventures. You shan't find yourself without occupation, not for long."

That hadn't quite been what she'd meant. Jesus, she'd have much rathered help Hattie with her chores than make small-talk about the weather or the latest fashions. She doubted they shared her enthusiasm for tie dye. But wouldn't that be a hell of a look to make her first impressions in?

Unfortunately, it seemed the time for first impressions was well over. Word had spread across the island - word of who she was, and how she'd spent the beginning of her time here. That was, if the scandalised looks and furious whispering behind fans that she'd encountered so far was anything to go by. It was yet another thing that she stubbornly forced her mind away from. She was getting rather good at that - herding her thoughts like some sort of sheepdog. But she couldn't afford to get particularly cocky about her success with that so far. Sooner or later the distractions would run out. The odd looks and the gossiping was tolerable for now, but she had her newest friend at her side and whenever she did encounter those inclined to whisper, it was fleeting. It would likely not always be the case - not if Hattie was correct, anyway.

It was a tightrope act. Considering her problems without allowing them to overcome her - refusing to let them make her lose her balance and topple into the abyss below. The trick was not looking down. No, she was determined to keep her eyes on the horizon, the fact that this was all only temporary. She didn't have to rebuild her life here, she had to get by for the time being. Blend in enough so that she was free to make the moves necessary when the time came. It was like being undercover - a spy. The trick to that was being a grey man. Somebody who attracted no interest, no attention. Who could come and go without worrying about others watching them.

Her jaunt in the rainforest had fucked that up just a bit. Now she had to fix it. With a bit of luck, she'd be able to act normal long enough to make all of this blow over. Yeah. She could do that.

As she exited the curtains that concealed the fitting room from the eyes of whoever walked into the shop, a couple of finely dressed ladies stared at her, before exchanging very pointed looks with one another, pursing their lips in order to hold back smirks of amusement. Theo kept her head held high, and swept from the shop with as much dignity as she could muster.

Okay, so maybe she'd need a lot of luck.