A/N: So I spent Tuesday night putting together a 1.5k word outline for the arc of this story that covers TCOTBP. My plan is for it to eventually span all three movies from the original trilogy, but without it being some sort of retelling that is 90% repeating the script of the movies only with the OC stealing the funniest lines.

I very rarely write full scale outlines beyond flowcharts for more complicated chapters, so that just shows how ambitious I'm being with this fic! The movies are complicated, filled with amazingly complex characters, which makes them intimidating to write…but very fun. I hope I can do them justice!

It was a cruel trick that life was playing on her - the fact that the more of a routine, the more of a life, that she carved out for herself here, the more she missed the one she'd had back home. It was only made all the crueller when she considered just how little she'd appreciated her life back home when she'd been, well, living it. A regular lost soul, that's what she'd always considered herself. Now it was like the universe was laughing at her - showing her what one truly looked like. She couldn't find it in her to laugh along with it.

Everybody was lovely. Almost everybody, at least. Enough for it to make her feel even shittier about this whole thing. Part of her suspected she almost might've done better if everybody had just been absolute assholes to her. Okay, 'better' might not have been the proper word to describe it - such a scenario would've left her starving in the rainforest, or even still afloat at sea (and quite dead, to boot) - but it would've occupied her more than this. When she was starving and frightened and always on edge, it was easier to keep her mind from home. Easier to miss being around people who knew her, truly knew her, rather than the fact that those who she'd met here, no matter how much she was growing to like them, never could. Not really.

For as long as she was here, she would always be minding her words, her mannerisms, vetting everything she said about herself before she said it to make sure it wasn't too suspicious, and even then still being scared after she said it up until whatever she'd said was met with no suspicion or confusion.

It was the sort of thing that crossed her mind every now and then, only ever in jest. Telling somebody. What would James - for they were on a first name basis now - say if she sat down to eat dinner with him, and told him exactly what had happened? The whole truth of it? She had the photos from her wallet still to act as proof, carefully stashed away so that even Hattie wouldn't find them. She refused to look at them herself, even when she'd hidden them she'd made a point of not glimpsing them at all. It wouldn't help. But what if? What if she took them out, placed them on the table, and told him the full story while he leafed through her photos? The one of her with her dad, the one of her with her friends, shit, even the one of the family dog.

No matter how much she tried to imagine it, she could never even imagine how he would react. There were extremes that she could dream up, sure - from him holding her at swordpoint and arresting her for being a witch, to the news snapping his sanity clean in half and sending him into fits of hysteria. None of it rang true, though. No scenario she imagined did, she couldn't even begin to imagine how he would handle it. Disbelief, sure, but what about when faced with evidence? Had she been brain dead enough to truly be tempted to tell him the truth, her inability to see any outcome that felt real would've been enough to dissuade her.

Luckily, though, her time in the sun and then the rainforest hadn't been enough to fry her mind to that extent. It was just…something to think about - something in theory, that she wouldn't actually need to solve or answer. Something to distract her. It didn't help, though. At most it only emphasised the vast ocean between herself and everybody around her. She missed being around people who she knew - who knew her. She missed drinking cocktails and dancing with her friends, followed by a drunken McDonald's at three am while they worked out how they were going to get home. She missed camping with her dad, random phone calls from her grandparents just to see how she was doing, going running with the dog. Feeling like a person. A real person. Not…not a scared, cornered child playing pretend, never quite sure whether the ground would give way or hold her weight when she took her next step.

The problem wasn't pressing. Not in the way that her problems soon would be. There were no undead pirates sacking the port, no kraken tentacles to be ducked and dodged. But that didn't mean her problems, and the ones that were surely on the way, didn't wear on her. It was insidious. A weary morning here, a sombre mood at dinner there. Soon the blips became more than just blips, and keeping her mind right was something she was actively fighting to do on an hourly basis.

And James, damn him, was quick to notice…even if he was a bit more reluctant to bring it up. It was after his seventh scrutinous look - and her third attempt at offering a strained smile - that he finally spoke.

"Is something troubling you?"

"Hm? Oh, I'm fine."

"You'll forgive me if I'm not convinced," he said drily before sighing "Miss Swann expressed some concern over the willingness of the women here to accept you into their circles."

…to her father, no doubt, who had then blabbed to James.

"I don't want in their circles," she said, and then doubled down when she saw the skeptical expression on his face "I don't. I'd rather go back into the jungle than listen to Miss Simmonds spend half an hour boasting about how she ruined her seamstress' life for botching a hemline."

James stifled a smile.

"Miss Swann is lovely, and I'm grateful for her efforts, but she can't force the women to invite me to events that she isn't throwing…and I wouldn't want her to, either."

"So what troubles you?"

"I made the mistake of thinking of home - of my family there."

"I shouldn't think that a mistake."

"It is," she shrugged "People think it lifts your spirits, gives you courage, but it doesn't. It just takes your mind away from where it's better off."

He gave her a strange look, brow furrowing.

"Don't look so surprised, it's the sort of think you'll be teaching your soldiers."

"Yes, it is," he agreed readily "But you are not a soldier."

"That doesn't mean I can't learn from their methods."

"As you've already shown on multiple occasions," he said wryly.

Theo snorted, feeling a swell of pride despite the fact that she couldn't be entirely certain that it was a compliment.

"Do you miss it?"

"My family and friends? Of course."

"Your home," he clarified.

"There's nothing there for me now," she said after a moment of panicked thought.

"…Except for your family and friends," he pointed out "The ones that you miss."

"Things are…different now," she shook her head, praying he wouldn't feel the need to question her answer "Even if I went back, it wouldn't return to me what it is that I miss…if that even makes sense."

Whatever response he had to that, he did not share it. There was a response - he had it ready and waiting on the tip of his tongue. But for whatever reason, he didn't actually voice it. His mouth opened, then closed again, and then he stared at her for a long moment. Once again, concern was evident on his features. That seemed to be the main thing that he looked at her with, truth be told. Well, that and confusion. Bewilderment, really. She preferred that to the concern.

"I'm fine. Really. It's…a moment of self-pity, nothing more. An embarrassing one, at that. My spirits will lift soon, whether they like it or not."

"Not if you go on as you are."

"And you're an expert in this matter, are you?"

"From what I gather, more than you are - yes."

Theo blinked in surprise, setting down her cutlery. James sighed.

"Forgive me if I'm speaking out of turn," he intoned "However, such…tactics when used in the military serve an explicit purpose. To keep your mind in the battle, on your duty, rather than on home and family, so that you don't put yourself at risk of losing your life in a skirmish through something as simple as an inability to keep your mind clear. It's only ever a temporary measure. A time will always come when you may turn your mind home, in private, and deal with those feelings…once the danger has passed."

He…had a point. Damn him. But only because he didn't know just how applicable those circumstances were to her own. He could insist all he liked that she had no place taking on military tactics when she wasn't in a war, but she was in one. In a manner of speaking. She was waiting on the edge of a battle she could not escape, to quote one of her favourite movies, and thinking of all of the reasons she had to make it out to the other end would surely drive her mad before the danger even truly began.

Her own survival was the only one that she could not almost guarantee. Well, that and one very stark exception - the man sitting across the table from her. But she would be gone long before then, there was nothing she could do. Her aim was to survive the first movie, get her ass to Tia Dalma, and beg her for a way home. If she could bring Barbossa back from the dead, she could damn well send Theo home. Shit, she hoped she could. Maybe…maybe she could warn somebody? It seemed such a weak thing to do in the face of mortal danger, but it was just about all that she really could do.

Not James, though, he'd never believe her. Even if he did, she knew him well enough even now to know that he would welcome death if he thought it was a gallant one. The bastard. But who else? Elizabeth. The second the name occurred to her, Theo knew it was the correct one. Who else could it be? Elizabeth would be the only other person present - the only one who Theo knew, who was apt to listen, anyway. If all of Theo's plans went, well, according to plan, there would come a time when she would be in the presence of Elizabeth and Jack both. Elizabeth would have to learn of her knowledge, even if she remained in the dark as to how she had it. So she could give it to her - freely. Okay, she couldn't tell her everything. One stray action caused by Theo's words could have the pirates losing the war in the end. But she could hint. Couldn't she? Find a way to make sure that Elizabeth made James go with her, rather than staying behind on the Dutchman when the time for his death came?

The more she considered the matter, the more attached she became to it. Unfortunately, that was also when the glaring holes in the plan cropped up. A lot of time would pass between her warning, and the time when it would be needed most. What if Elizabeth forgot? What if she didn't succeed in persuading James? Shit, even if everything went according to plan and Elizabeth succeeded, how would Theo ever know it? It wasn't like the movies would change - because surely they wouldn't. She'd utterly adored them back in the day, she'd seen the behind-the-scenes special features, the blooper reels, all of it. No matter what she did here, in her world she had not been part of the cast. The movies couldn't change, no matter what she did. She'd be left spending the rest of her life wondering whether she'd left the man who had saved her life to die. A thankless death at that, too. One that served little purpose other than to ramp up the tension of the plot. To show the audiences that the good guys could, and would, die.

Glancing up towards him, she found she immediately had to look away, exhaling a shaky breath.

"The danger has passed, Theodora. You can allow yourself your thoughts."

The unspoken words were clear. You are safe here. She said nothing. She wasn't sure that she was capable of speaking. Everything just felt much too much.

"…Unless you believe that it has not."

The words, much to her great surprise, were not said accusingly. There was no edge to them - like if he suspected that there was trouble on the horizon, he didn't anticipate that she herself would be the source of it. It was a mistake on her part, but she could not bring herself to look at him.

"Miss Swann invited me to spend the day with her today, I think I'll go and get ready."

As if she wasn't already ready. Breakfast in pyjamas wasn't much of a done thing here - not when breakfast was in the company of a man who was neither a relation, nor a husband. Hattie had already wrangled her into her clothing, and piled her hair atop her head in an artful way that Theo could never have hoped of achieving herself. There wasn't much left to do - there were no handbags in this time, she didn't have to make sure that she had her phone, keys, headphones, and lipstick. But there was a feeling, deep within her chest - one that was strangely mirrored in the back of her throat. The sensation of being wound utterly taut, but also that whatever it was that was keeping her that way was fraying. It wouldn't be long before it snapped - certainly if they kept at this line of conversation, and definitely if she didn't get a grip of herself - and if that was doomed to happen, she didn't want to go through the mortifying ordeal of having it happen in front of him.

James did not argue. Not only that, but he had the kindness to not bring up her distress if he'd spotted it in her face. Instead he responded as though he hadn't noticed anything at all.

"Of course, don't let me keep you - I shall be leaving soon, myself," he replied.

"Oh, well, have a nice day. I'll see you at dinner," her voice sounded too cheery, even to her own ears, and she was out of the room as quickly as her legs would carry her.

Once she got to her bedroom, she closed the door behind her, buried her face in her hands, and didn't move until she heard the front door open and then shut, signalling James' departure.

Elizabeth's carriage pulled up out front not an hour later to pick her up, and by the time Theo was rumbling along up the hill to the Governor's mansion, she'd managed to rein in her emotions. It was unfortunate that it had taken her so long, for now she knew she'd have to be doubly cheery at dinner to make up for her behaviour at breakfast. But if James asked, she supposed she could just tell him that Elizabeth had cured her melancholy. He'd probably jump to believe that.

It was a dazzling day, though, and the view on the ride up to the mansion afforded her a view of what was almost the entire island - a tropical paradise on a day like this. In her own time she'd have paid top dollar to explore this place in a bikini and little more - to kayak around it by day and drink til she could no longer feel the sunburn by night. It did feel like a bit of a wasted opportunity to not be capable of doing so now. The few accepted pastimes of the ladies whom she was expected to spend her time around in this time largely involved tittering, gossiping, and card games.

But she did like Elizabeth - she was excited to see her, in fact - and anyway, she had a hell of a poker face. If only she could extend that to mealtimes with James, the day would be plain sailing. But she had to face it, it would take an absolute sociopath to sit opposite a man during meals, knowing the end he was doomed to meet, and maintain a bright and happy visage all the way through. What a time to wish she had more in common with Ted Bundy.

It was that very cheery thought that was circling her mind when she stepped out of the carriage and approached the great wooden doors to the mansion. A footman opened it before she could even knock, and gave her an odd look when she thanked him for it. But then Elizabeth was upon her, and she found her mood lightening further.

"Theodora! Welcome," she fixed her with a dazzling smile, before hooking her arm in hers and leading her to the drawing room "Come, we have tea and more desserts than either of us could possibly eat in an entire month. I've so been looking forward to today. "

That sounded an awful lot like a challenge.

"So have I, Miss Swann-" the warning look that Elizabeth gave her had her quickly correcting herself "Elizabeth. I had a great time at your dinner party."

"You're being kind, the women were awful to you," she said.

"Not all of them," Theo smiled.

Elizabeth returned it "So you've already regaled me with the tale of your adventure — but I know little of you otherwise. I didn't like to ask at dinner, what with all of the ears."

Probably worried she'd give Amelia and her gossip ammunition that neither needed. It wasn't an unfounded fear, either. Theo was grateful. She hadn't been lying when she'd told James that she didn't care what those who did not like her said. Whether Amelia's dislike stemmed from prejudice, jealousy, resentment, or just outright boredom, Theo would not be losing sleep over it. It wasn't like she liked the other woman either, nor did she want to be liked by her. Then she'd actually have to spend time with her. It was just…inconvenient insofar as the undue attention was less than ideal with what was to come. The sooner the interest roamed onto another unfortunate target, the better. Hopefully it would do so by the time James' promotion came through.

To be fair, she supposed that the gossipers would have more than enough on their plates when it came Theo's time to act. Between Jack's arrival, Barbossa's crew sacking the port, and Elizabeth's kidnap, they'd be spoiled for choice. They'd forget about her existence entirely.

"What would you like to know?" Theo asked.

"Anything! Everything! Port Royal looks busy, but so few people come to stay - and even fewer are those who I might have dealings with. It gets rather stifling."

Elizabeth's warmth was infectious - and better yet, it felt entirely genuine. There was no flattery, no facade. Just sheer loveliness.

"I can imagine the social circles are much less varied than England," Theo nodded.

"It was," Elizabeth agreed "Until a woman arrived who spent her first few days opting to live in the forest."

"I'm never going to live that one down, am I?"

"You should wear it as a badge of honour," she teased "How did you even know what to do? I should think the soldiers would be the only ones here who might achieve such a feat."

"My father was one. Is one - a soldier. He taught me everything."

"Even though you're a daughter?"

There was no suggestion on Elizabeth's face that she was scandalised by such a notion. Leaning forward, her dark eyes were nothing less than entirely intrigued.

"It didn't mean anything to him. It's not like hardship is chivalrous," Theo shrugged "If anything, the world is more dangerous for women."

"Oh, I quite agree - but not many would."

"He's not a typical sort of person," she gave a small smile "I suppose it's where I get it from. Thank God."

Elizabeth smiled "Do you miss him terribly?"

"Every day. He doesn't even know what happened to me - he'll be out of his mind with worry."

"You weren't travelling with him."

"No. I can't remember the voyage, nor how I ended up in the water, but he was stationed elsewhere before I left Ireland, so he couldn't have been with me when I ended up in the water."

"I'm sure he'll take solace in the fact that he clearly taught you well. No doubt before long he'll be knocking down Captain Norrington's door in search of you."

"Maybe," Theo snorted.

"And perhaps on that day, there'll be a man waiting to ask his permission for your hand," Elizabeth said conspiratorially.

Theo choked on thin air "What? No. I - no. I mean, that would be improper, wouldn't it? I live with him."

"Oh, not Captain Norrington - although seeing him take you under his wing so had shown the whole port a rather softer side of him, I must say. But I was referring to Lieutenant Groves."

She didn't think it was possible for her to be any more floored, but that clarification somehow managed it.

"No. Absolutely not," Theo laughed, shaking her head.

"I'm sorry if I misunderstood," Elizabeth said, but her brow held the slightest furrow of suspicion "There just seemed rather a bond between the two of you at dinner."

"He was the first person aboard the Interceptor - bar Captain Norrington, of course - who was nice to me. That's all. After the way the evening started, his appearance was a welcome relief. Not so much as how you swooped in and saved me, though."

"Decency in the face of cruelty isn't heroic," Elizabeth waved a hand "But all right - I shan't tease you on the matter of the good lieutenant any longer. I am sorry, though. For your father. I'm quite close to my own, so I can only imagine."

Elizabeth reached over and squeezed her hand briefly before reaching for a bell sitting on the side table. Despite the gesture, though, the happiness that Theo had managed to muster was quickly dissipating, the same sick feeling that she'd found herself stricken with at breakfast making a swift and riotous return. Ringing the bell, Elizabeth turned to her as footsteps from the hall outside signalled the approach of a servant.

"We have something new that's all the rage apparently - ice cream. Have you ever heard of it?"

"Hm? Oh, er, yes - I mean, no," Theo stopped, then started, then forced some semblance of coherency into her brain "I've heard of it, yes, but I've never tried it."

"Oh you'll love it, these climates are impossible some days, even after all these years."

Theo mustered a smile, but Elizabeth's words with the maid were lost in the buzz of panicked static quickly filling her head. She'd just been sorely reminded that James wasn't the only innocent to die in the third movie…and knew that if she was to warn Elizabeth, she'd need to warn her about the Governor, too. It was yet another problem - a piece of straw, added to the back of the camel as the reality of her circumstances really took root within her. That additional straw seemed like one too much, though, and she wasn't sure how much more her back could take.

James got home late that night, but he crossed through his front door feeling optimistic. He worked hard - too hard, some might argue - but his work always had the quality of energising him, and he was certain her day with Elizabeth would have eased Theodora's woes. As he entered the modest entranceway, he turned his head towards the archway leading to the dining room. Candles still burned on the table, illuminating an untouched plate of food. He frowned. The food wasn't his, he knew that immediately - the cook would have left it in the oven, kept warm by the residual heat. The ovens never ran completely cold before he returned, not unless he did not return at all. He'd fallen asleep at his desk back in his office more times than he cared to count - the Governor often joked about having a cot or a hammock set up in the corner for him.

So Theodora had returned, but she had not eaten. Had she resolved to wait for him? The idea had him grimacing with the slightest amount of guilt, but Hattie would have surely warned her that there was no need to do so. Turning to the doorway opposite the dining room, he entered the sitting room, apology already on his tongue, when he stopped short. Theodora was there, sitting on the chaise longue with a book hanging from her grasp. Her eyes were red and raw, rivalling even that of her hair. She wasn't crying, but she had been.

James paused, taking a step back before he had even truly resolved to do so, awash in sheer discomfort. But he forced himself to stop. Hadn't this been what he himself had pushed for? How could he all but scold her for not facing her emotions, only to flee in discomfort when she did? At his appearance, she ducked her head and quickly fumbled with the book in an attempt to open it. Another tear fell, though, dispelling his assumption that she'd collected herself. It hit the cover of the book, deafening in the otherwise silent room.

Bowing his head, he sighed as his mind raced to work out what to best do. Emotions weren't his expertise - not by any stretch of the imagination. But no matter how embarrassing a situation this was for him, he knew it must be doubly so for her…and if he fled to the safety of his bedroom, he knew he would spend the whole night berating himself for lacking the basic decency required to make sure the woman currently in his care was well.

So, painfully aware of his every gesture and the utter awkwardness lying therein, he drew his handkerchief (clean, thankfully) from his pocket, and extended it to her. When she looked up she did not meet his gaze - she only looked up just enough to see what it was he was offering her, in fact, but he breathed a sigh of sheer relief when she accepted it and dabbed at her eyes, which were still downcast. Faltering there for a moment, he debated internally for a moment before he took the book from her grasp. She didn't fight it, twisting her now free hand in her skirts.

When he sat on the sofa to her side, though, she stilled entirely. Under different circumstances he might've taken some pleasure in her surprise, but the reminder that it was kindness, of all things, that surprised her took away any joy he might've taken in her shock. Instead, he wiped the tear from the cover of the book with the cuff of his shirt. Robinson Crusoe. He suppressed a snort, and instead he opened it and began to read aloud, not once looking at her for fear of embarrassing the both of them. If this didn't offer any comfort to her, he'd be quite embarrassed enough.

His words were awkward and halting at first, mostly because he was absolutely certain that he was making a complete fool of himself. It was the only gesture of comfort - of support - he could think to offer her. What else could he do? She'd expressed distaste, or at least great reluctance, to discuss what it was that weighed on her, and in all honesty he would have no idea what to say even if she did wish to discuss it. He would try if she initiated such a conversation, but he had no desire to initiate it himself. This, though it felt little other than ridiculous, seemed the only thing to do. The only thing that wasn't sitting at her side in silence. Although he couldn't help but wonder if that wouldn't be the better option by the time he'd finished even just the first paragraph.

But over time the sniffling stopped, as did the occasional jerk of her shoulders from the suppressed sobs. Taking it as a sign that the mortification was at least paying off in some way, his voice became surer - although he still could not look at her. At least she had stopped crying.

A/N: Just gonna say it upfront because I know it might look that way right now - there won't be any love triangle featuring Groves. He may have a special place in my heart as a character for having voiced my lord and saviour Cullen Rutherford in Dragon Age, but that's not the path I'm going down here.