A/N: Last chapter before it all kicks off, boyos. Incredibly grateful for the patience you've all had during the build-up! Will not lie, I didn't expect it to take sixteen chapters and a prologue, but some things can't be rushed, apparently.

Theo stayed out all evening, turning her lie over and over in her mind. At some point she stopped beating herself over it, and started putting her brain to work, conjuring a series of events - a cover story - and visualising it over and over until she was almost convinced that it had truly happened herself. Her non-existent husband was given a face and a name, both taken from the first actor she could think of in that moment so that she was in no danger of forgetting either. If she ever ran into Hugh Jackman back home, she would give him her apologies for the slander. And then she returned home, and chose not to dwell on the problematic nature of the fact that she really had begun to regard it as such. Not more than home home, it would never be that, but…here home, she supposed.

It had long gone dark by the time she stepped through the front door, and James met her in the entranceway with visible relief. But after little more than half a beat of awkwardness, he spoke.

"I was worried you'd returned to the wilds," he said drily.

An olive branch - and a reassurance that things had not changed. That she would not be now newly regarded as a sympathy case, nor with distrust after having withheld the "truth" for this long. For all of his supposed awkwardness, James really was socially savvy when he wanted to be. Although she supposed she'd only seen him more or less through the filter of Elizabeth - certainly in the first film - and with that came the nerves he had in her presence. It made sense.

"I haven't had dinner yet," she gave a slight shrug, handing him back the handkerchief.

He accepted it with a tight-lipped smile, and gave her but one comforting pat on the back as he gestured for her to lead the way to the dining room. It was as close to a hug as she'd get from him in this time period.

The days flew by almost aggressively quickly after that. Now that she was used to the social engagements and had her footing here, daily events didn't seem to slow time down as much as they had when she'd dreaded each minor occurrence with a vengeance. There weren't any big events like the ball, nor even like that of the dinner party - it seemed Elizabeth really had gone above and beyond to welcome her to Port Royal, for the few she attended afterwards were all much more quiet, and even uneventful - but pleasantly so. Enough to have her dreading the end of it all. The events to come were but a stepping stone home, though and the fact that this was all temporary was the very thing that allowed her to enjoy it. Almost like being on holiday.

Even her guilt was tempered as she resolved to make the most of the peace - of the light within the darkness. With Elizabeth, she comforted herself in the knowledge that the hardship the Governor's daughter would soon go through would lead her to a life that she ultimately loved. Certainly one that she'd find more fulfilling than one of a typical English lady. And with James?…That one was more tricky. His fate was not nearly so positive, even as bittersweet as Elizabeth's was. But, true to his unspoken vow, he did not press her for details of her supposed ordeal. It wasn't exactly polite dinner conversation, was it? Still, she practised her story in her mind all the while just in case, not quite content enough to make the assumption that it would never be brought up, even with their time together running out as it was.

Thankfully, James also didn't treat her any differently. He was tempted to ask - she could see it. At times when she was absorbed in thoughts of what was soon to come, she'd come back to the present moment and glance towards him, only to see him looking at her with a sad furrow of his brow. It always left her feeling strangely caught, even if she knew what he would assume she was thinking of. However, it didn't happen too often, though, and definitely wasn't enough to ruin the last of their time together. That was helped, somewhat, by his apparent newfound resolution never to mention Groves in her presence again.

All too quickly they reached the night before James' promotion ceremony, and Theo found herself singing the guitar solo to David Bowie's Starman under her breath - although it didn't calm the wasp nest buzzing away in her chest in itself, it helped her pretend to be calm, which did help her feel calm. The human mind was a funny thing. There was nothing left for her to prepare, which didn't help much - especially since that meant there'd be nothing to keep her occupied tonight, despite the fact that she knew she'd get no sleep. Nor the next night, for that matter.

There were some preparations that had to be left til the very last moment for fear of discovery - mainly getting her hands on a pair of James' breeches, so that she wouldn't be doomed to see out her upcoming journeys in a dress. That had been the worst task of all, because she had no idea what she could possibly say if caught; both in the act of stealing itself, or being found in possession of them. Happily, she was not. She hadn't yet been brave enough to try them on yet, though, and only thanked her lucky stars that he hadn't noticed their disappearance, as meticulous as he was with literally every aspect of his life. With everything tucked into a neat little bolt kit stashed in a trunk beneath her dresses, she was ready. As ready as she could hope to be.

"Is that an Irish song?"

Starting, she turned her attention away from the window to find James hovering just outside the doorway. Painfully proper as always.

"Er, no - English, I believe," she smiled.

"I've never heard it."

"It's new - very new," newer than everything here, save herself "I heard it just before I came here."

"It's lovely."

She blinked in surprise, not exactly having taken him for a David Bowie fan, but he mistook her surprise as being directed at the compliment itself.

"I, er," he faltered, flushing up to his ears "I had thought we might sit in the garden before dinner. There are some matters I wish to discuss with you."

She couldn't lie - not in her own mind, although she would to anybody else who asked - she'd been glad when she found out that this night would be just the two of them. Come tomorrow evening, Port Royal would be bathed in blood, and she would no longer be here at all for the one that followed. This was her last proper night here, and she didn't want to spend it dodging Amelia Simmonds and trying to act present while her mind was anywhere but here. James had become her most treasured friend since she'd gotten here. If there was any way she could choose to spend tonight, it would be like this.

That being said, she knew what he wanted to discuss, and it didn't fill her with much joy. But she mustered a smile and kept it on her face right until they were both sitting on the bench that overlooked his decently sized and immaculately kept gardens. The sunset was especially vivid that evening, casting them in a warm glow that easily rivalled that of any hearth. Noticing his hesitation to speak, she broke the ice for him.

"You're not going to try to marry me off to another of your Lieutenants, are you?" She teased.

It worked, too, for he chuckled and some of the tension rolled off of his shoulders.

"No. I consider myself respectably brave, but I do not think I could make such a suggestion and escape with my life," he replied "…But what I wish to discuss does involve marriage."

The one he hoped to have, or the one he thought she had been stuck in? It was difficult to tell, but she was getting a distinct sinking feeling that it was the latter, with how nervous he appeared. Thankfully, another silence did not take root.

"I…intend to ask Miss Swann for her hand in marriage," he said finally.

There it was. The news filled her with a strange sort of resignation.

"…Tomorrow?" She asked.

Having gone so long without his bringing it up, she'd begun to wonder if he was going to go along with it after all. Had he not, it would've been a problem. How else could she make sure that Elizabeth would end up in the water, setting everything in motion? Short of pushing her - which would only end with her sharing Jack's cell.

"I had planned on telling you long before now," he admitted with a sigh, misunderstanding the question "I just never seemed to be able to find the right time."

Such as the countless meals and nightcaps they'd shared over the last few weeks? But Theo kept that particular unhelpful comment to herself. Maybe he was nervous to speak of it before he'd actually asked - or worried that she'd let something slip to Elizabeth. Her last conversation with him to do with betrothals had hardly gone well, and it wasn't like he owed her an explanation.

"Well," she said slowly "Congratulations."

"She hasn't said yes yet," he said wryly.

"Good luck, then?" She replied.

That, he accepted. Bowing his head he sighed, hands clasped carefully before him in a manner that she suspected was to stop him from nervously fidgeting.

"Matters such as this - discussing matters such as this - don't come naturally to me. I suppose it's something I need to overcome."

The corners of Theodora's lips turned downward in sympathy. It was easier for her - watching all of this. Yes, there was the stress of the knowledge of what was to come, the sick and heavy feeling of dread when it came to events that she knew were beyond her control, but for them? For James? This was their lives. Uncertainty had plagued her every waking step back home - hell, it still did now, just in a more concrete and less existential manner - so she had the fullest sympathy for what he was going through. He was going into this hoping that tomorrow might be the beginning of a fairytale romance. The knowledge that it was not to be only worsened her sympathy - regardless of the fact that she knew he wouldn't appreciate it, even were he in possession of all of the facts.

"Tell her how you feel," she replied quietly "She can't ask for more than that."

"You make it seem easy," he scoffed.

"I do that with everything - I'm above mere mortals in that way," she teased in response.

This drew a laugh for him - a real one, and a smile too.

"Yes, well," he began slowly.

James then paused for a moment, straightening up a little in a manner that suggested that he was now all business, but his tone remained soft as he continued. Not quite as detached and to the point as he probably would've liked to convey.

"You're still welcome to stay, of course. I…wanted to make sure that you knew that. If she says no, of course, but should she accept, too. That isn't in question. You must remain until you find other circumstances that are entirely to your liking, I've no intention to cast you out. I should be astonished if Elizabeth took issue with your presence."

Sighing heavily, Theo waited a moment to speak - because if she didn't gather herself, she was certain she was going to cry.

"James Norrington, you might just be the sweetest man in existence, you know that?"

It might have embarrassed him to hear it - it did, if the flush on his face was anything to go by - but she had to be sure he knew it before everything began. Hopefully he would still believe that she was sincere when he found her in the company of Captain Jack, as he inevitably would if all went according to plan. Then again, that was a very big 'if'. She'd seen what tended to happen to plans in the presence of the infamous pirate captain.

"You mustn't have known many decent men, then," he chose modesty amidst his fluster.

"Mmm," she hummed "Can't argue much, there. Except for my father, but that's..."

Very, very different.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly "I didn't mean to…"

It took her a moment to realise the source of his guilt. Ah. The fictional husband.

"You know me well by now," she waved a hand "Do I seem the sort to take offence easily?"

"Do I?" He mused lightly, leaning back "Know you well, that is. I would think so, but I also still cannot seem to…unpuzzle you."

Oh, how she had to resist the urge to make a dirty joke. A 'buy me dinner first and maybe I'll let you try'. Her glowing sense of humour was lost on these times, of that much she was certain.

"What makes you say that?" She asked.

An amused yet strangely shy smile played on her face as he made an open study of it, as though he might find whatever answers he apparently sought hidden behind an eyebrow.

"I'm not sure," he admitted finally.

"I shall choose to take it as a compliment. Do let me know if you do find the answer - only if it's complimentary, though."

"And if it's not?" He challenged, another one of his slight smiles playing on his lips.

"Then lie," she teased.

Dinner followed soon after, and Theo was thrilled to find that with his piece of news out in the open, James' demeanour lost any of its former twitchiness. On the contrary, having finally shared it seemed to relieve his shoulders of a great weight, and he smiled more freely and more widely than she'd seen in a long time. Perhaps, though, that was in part due to the fact that he felt what she did too. Tonight marked the end of a strange little era. While Theo knew this for certain, he could've easily sensed the same - although for different reasons. In this time, in this society, it was entirely likely that Elizabeth would say yes. With a wedding being planned and the work that a new title beheld, the unexpected routine and the familiarity and comfort that said routine brought with it would soon be lost. To the oncoming change, as far as James was concerned, and to definite disaster in Theo's knowledge of the facts.

As first maybe she thought it was her own sentimentality. That she was ascribing her own feelings onto his behaviour, and he was really just aglow in the excitement of his oncoming promotion. Or proposal. Probably both, really. But then they remained at the table, caught up in conversation until well over an hour after it had been cleared. Theo pretended not to notice the look Hattie sent the two of them before she went to bed, and if James noticed he gave no indication.

After that, they remained up later still - moving the party into the sitting room and sipping at whiskey while they discussed the next day. Their conversation was always strictly limited to the ceremony, and the parts of the day to do with his career. The furthest they strayed was when he expressed his doubts over one or two of his men being able to keep from dropping their swords during all of the elaborate pomp that would ensue, and whether Amelia would manage to resist the urge to beat Theo to death with her fan. There was no mention of the proposal, but she assumed he simply did not want to think of it at all.

Finally, when the hour struck midnight and they had no choice but to retire - or else risking bloodshot eyes and foul tempers during the big day - they stood with the utmost begrudgement and began to make for the stairs. Theo went first, more unsteady on her feet than she expected, but they made it to the top unscathed despite the best efforts of her skirts. If there was one thing she was looking forward to, it was wearing breeches instead. She didn't give a damn if the clear outline of her thighs were scandalous here, she just wanted to be able to climb a flight of stairs without fear of re-enacting Mufasa's death from The Lion King.

They reached the door to her bedroom before his, which was located at the end of the hall, but he paused as she opened the door and stepped half inside before turning back to him.

"Good luck for tomorrow - really," she said "You deserve it."

This time, perhaps thanks to the whiskey, he didn't flush or spout polite modesties. He simply smiled softly.

"Thank you. I'm glad to know you think so - and that you'll be there."

Returning the smile, she waited for him to say goodnight. She told herself that it was just because she didn't want to be rude by slamming the door in his face if he had something else to say. But what else could he have to say? She could've easily said it first and then retired, but something stopped her. Her resolved, weakened by the drink and her own emotions. Even if this would not be her very last time seeing him, it certainly felt like the end. Christ, she was going to miss him.

It was impossible to tell how long they lingered there in the hallway, simply looking at one another in the dim glow that the melted-down candle set onto a fixture in the wall afforded. All Theo knew was that she was suddenly keenly aware of two things - how quiet it had gone, and how close he was. Had he always been this close, or had one of them moved closer? The hallway was fairly narrow, it was difficult to tell, and thought was long out of the window. The moment stretched on, feeling strangely suffocating and mesmerising all at once. Without fully meaning to, her eyes flickered from his eyes, to his slightly parted lips, and then back up again. Before she could regret it, though, the gap closed.

She had no idea who initiated it - or if there had even been one particular initiator. Later, she would dearly hope it had not been her. But at the time, her mind went blank of any coherent thought. It was almost laughable, really, because the kiss was infallibly chaste. So much so that had it happened on a night out back home, it wouldn't have been worth thinking about again afterwards, nevermind mentioning. Maybe it was the time, or perhaps (more likely) it was the man, but it didn't feel inconsequential. Not at all.

A pathetic half-sigh, half-murmur sounded from the back of her throat, the hand that had reached up to hold onto his shoulder somewhere along the way the only thing keeping her from losing her balance as his lips pressed against her own, warm and firm in a way that seemed to set her whole nervous system alight. And then he was jerking back, and she was awash in ice just as quickly as she'd been aflame. Now she really did sway, stumbling back into the doorframe before she found her bearings, brain rushing to catch up with what had just happened, in disbelief rather than in any sort of tipsy haze. No, that had been quite sobering. For the both of them, it seemed, for by the time she looked at James again, any former trace of softness was gone. Captain Norrington was back in place, gaze fixed to the wall to the side of her head rather than on her own.

"That was…I…" he breathed, and then shook his head, voice becoming sterner as something akin to horror shone in his eyes "That was inexcusable and ill-done. Please forgive me."

And then he was gone, down the hallway and into his room with the door thudding harshly shut behind him before she could even think to respond.

Fuck.