A/N: I'm experiencing a bug on the site at the moment which is preventing me from replying to reviews - so I'm sorry if you reviewed and didn't get a preview for the next chapter/any sort of response at all. I did get a few responses out before the error started occurring, but not all of them. I love reading them and I'm super grateful, whether I'm able to respond or not! Hopefully it's resolved soon.

Port Royal had fallen eerily quiet outside by the time the three of them found themselves in the sitting room. Most of the furniture had been overturned, and they'd had to sweep shards of broken glass away so that Theo could shakily lower herself to the floor, face lit by the glow of the fire, while James knelt before her, dabbing at her injuries with a cloth soaked in water and whiskey. Hattie remained standing, hovering nearby - her offers to help were always softly rejected by her employer, who kept entreating her to sit down and relax. Theo could understand her resistance. It was difficult for her to stay seated, too, her legs refusing to fully relax, twitching every so often as though poised another fight.

Theo kept her gaze lowered as James tended to the wounds on her face - he likely didn't notice, though, because he seemed entirely wrapped up in Hattie's recount of what had happened. To hear the maid tell it, Theo had saved the day in a pair of blue tights and a red cape, all while barely breaking a sweat. She didn't have the presence of mind to protest or argue. She didn't want to discuss it at all. Perhaps it would've been different if she'd had the luxury of a few days to recover, but she did not, so she couldn't really afford to feel it. Not when tomorrow held a fresh challenge. But while she didn't allow her thoughts to delve into it, it wasn't always that simple. Whenever her fingers so much as twitched, it was like she was holding the knife again - feeling the resistance offered by muscle, tendon, and bone slowly give way to the blade as it sank into the intruder's neck. Her stomach churned in response every time.

"When you arrived, sir, before we knew it was you, she just got right back up again and stood by the door, ready to do it all over no matter how scared we were," Hattie finished.

"Didn't have much choice," she mumbled, her words coming out clumsy and muffled thanks to her busted lip.

The mixture of water and whiskey stung fiercely as he cleaned her wounds with it, but Theo paid it no mind. It gave her something to focus on, at least. Kept her present and out of her own thoughts.

"Thank you, Hattie, you should retire - and take the next few days off to recover. As long as you need," James said.

"I…" for a moment it sounded like she might argue that she wanted to stay up, but fatigue must've won out in the end for she continued "Thank you, Commodore Norrington. And thank you, Miss Theodora."

"All in a day's work."

She tried to offer a tired smile, but the action pulled on her lip and sent an even worse stinging pain through it, which put an end to that rather quickly. For a few moments, there was no sound but the crackle of the fire and the creaking of the stairs as Hattie ascended them. When James resumed his cleaning of her wounds, he did so silently, but the tension was palpable - so much so that it cut through whatever fog she was in. His actions were careful, however, never allowing any of the alcohol to drip down into her eye as he worked to clean the gash that cut vertically through her eyebrow.

"It's fine," she murmured finally - mostly hoping that he would excuse her and she could go to bed without giving the appearance of storming off.

Then again, where would she sleep? The body of the intruder…of the man she'd killed…was still on the floor in her bedroom.

"It most certainly is not fine, Theodora," James responded immediately.

"All right, it hurts," she conceded with a sigh "But that's all it does. It doesn't bother me - it looks worse than it is, really…Wounds to the head and face are like that. They bleed a lot."

She was aware that she was rambling even as she did so, but that didn't mean she could stop. Maybe the knock to the head had been worse than she'd thought. She just counted herself lucky that he hadn't broken anything - she could've very easily been sitting here with a shattered eye socket, had things turned out differently. It was highly doubtful that eighteenth century medicine could contend with that.

"I know that," he replied quietly "But I admit it troubles me that you're apparently so well versed in the topic. As well as in how to handle being struck in such a manner."

Theo said nothing. She wasn't in the mood to play pretend regarding her imaginary bastard of a husband. There was no denying it, she could take a hit, but that was from sparring more than from any real abuse.

"What were you thinking?" He asked, sternness finally shining through any subdued mask.

"That I didn't want to die, mostly," she wasn't in the mood to be told off.

"You could've run - you could've hidden."

"Where would I run to? Outside, where I'd definitely be outnumbered? Where could I have hid? Do you really think he wouldn't have started checking under the beds and inside the wardrobes if he'd found the room empty? The way things went, I had the advantage. And it worked."

"Your face tells a different story."

"Oh piss off," she snapped back, unable to help it.

Almost the entirety of her head was throbbing - and the parts that didn't throb stung instead. She felt nauseous, hazy, and just absolutely done with it all. Her pride rushed to rationalise her upset - insisting that her face was one of the few factors she had in potentially getting Jack to listen to her at all, and now that small advantage was gone - but mostly she was just tired. She wanted to curl up somewhere safe and warm for a few hours before she would be forced to face the world again, with no choice but to invite another beating. Several more beatings, really, by the time this would all be done. Before she could fully help it, frustrated tears rose to her eyes.

A pause followed - during which he stopped dabbing at her face, instead allowing his hands to fall to his lap, bloody cloth and all. One that she expected to be filled with a scolding as she kept her eyes fixed stubbornly on the fire.

"If my words seemed harsh, then you have my sincerest…" his words lost steam before he even finished the sentence, and he trailed off before sighing, his voice deepening and suddenly sounding exhausted "I'm sorry, Theodora. It's not my goal to scold you - nor do you deserve it."

"It's fine," she murmured.

She just didn't want to argue anymore.

"It is not fine," he repeated firmly "You're hurt - for the love of God, you're still bleeding. It may surprise you, given my line of work, that I am not accustomed to frequently combatting fear. Not since I first became a soldier. But when I returned tonight to find the windows smashed, the house in such a state…"

It was then, having blinked away the worst of her tears, that Theo finally looked at him. There were few in this world - or in her own, for that matter - who could hide their emotions as skilfully as James Norrington. In that moment, however, he could not. Or maybe he was choosing not to. Either way, the sight caught her off guard - enough to necessitate a double-take. There was a heaviness that darkened his eyes, the faintest lines pulling at the corner of them, emphasised only by the furrow in his brow and the downward turn of his lips. He looked exhausted, totally and utterly drained. It was a feeling she shared, and her anger instantly began to wane. He was never the true subject of it, anyway.

"I feared I would find you dead or…" once again, he trailed off before sighing heavily "The pirate lying on the floor upstairs wasn't from the crew that attacked the rest of the town. He escaped from the prison tonight - cannon fire put a hole in the wall of his cell. I recognised him, because I'm responsible for having him locked up myself, and I remember his particular reputation being based on his penchant for - forgive me - attacking women. To put it as politely as it can be phrased."

He gave her a meaningful look, eyes glued to her face to make sure she understood the implication of his words. She did.

"He knew this was your house," she murmured.

"I imagine he was out for revenge," James replied sourly "He likely cajoled the information out of an unfortunate resident on his way here."

"Oh."

"I should have sent men here the moment the attack began," he said "It was thoughtless of me. I've proven to be a pretty shoddy guardian, haven't I?"

"Not at all," she disagreed quietly.

"How can you say that? After tonight? After last night?"

Theo cringed. Amidst everything, she'd almost forgotten about last night. There didn't really seem to be much room for awkwardness in a life-or-death scenario.

"What I did was unforgivable. I took advantage of your inebriated state, and of your dependency on me. It was - it was predatory, and for that I must apologise to you again."

"Is this why you've been avoiding me?" She gave a tired laugh that sounded more like a sob.

Christ. If he'd just said it first thing - or maybe left that as his message with Hattie - he would've saved her a whole lot of self loathing over the day.

"Which was cowardly," he added sourly.

"James," she interrupted, before he could go off on an hour-long monologue that revolved solely around what a terrible person he believed himself to be "You have it all wrong. I've spent today thinking it was me - that I…flung myself at you like some sort of desperate weirdo - madwoman - and you've stayed away for fear of being jumped on."

Silence greeted that particular revelation. She dared not look at him to gauge his response, though.

"It was a mutual mistake, then," she pushed on immediately, desperate to get the matter sorted while they were on the topic "We can blame the whiskey, or the excitement over your promotion. That's it. We got carried away, and now that we both know that, we don't have to think about it again. Much less speak of it."

Maybe it was even best to have spoken of it now and gotten it out the way. It didn't feel like the same all-consuming problem when with every word she spoke she was painfully aware of the dead body in the hallway up the stairs.

"…If you're sure," he replied quietly.

"I am. I just want us to be friends again."

"We never stopped being friends. Not in my view."

Good. Good. No doubt that would soon change, but at least she could tell herself that they ended things on good terms before her hand was forced and it was all ruined. It was much more of a comfort to her than anything she'd told herself during the day about how the awkwardness would make it easier to resist missing this.

Taking up the cloth, he tilted her chin upwards - and she strongly suspected that the action conjured images of the night before in his mind just as it did her own - so that her split lip was in the full glow of the firelight, before taking up the cloth again and beginning to dab at it. It felt painfully intimate, even under the dire circumstances. Looking away, she kept her eyes on the flames for a few moments, but it was a struggle keeping them there. Maybe it was the bright light of the flames, or the way they danced, but the sight threatened to send nausea spiking through her.

"Now, as your friend, tell me - are you well?"

This was one of the few times when the correct answer to that question was not a quick and polite 'I'm fine'. While she couldn't respond properly as he dabbed at her lower lip, she gave no other attempt at an answer - nothing other than the clasping of her hands in her lap. It was something she soon regretted, because they were still caked in blood, causing the skin to stick together and turning her stomach even more.

"Nobody would expect you to not be upset, Theodora. In fact, I'd be concerned if you were."

"If I didn't kill him, he'd have killed me."

He paused his actions long enough to let her speak, but quickly resumed them.

"Yes," he agreed quietly "And Hattie, too. Your own wasn't the only life you saved tonight. But that doesn't make it easy - killing shouldn't be easy, not for you. You aren't a soldier."

Oh, but she felt like one. Stuck on the frontlines, waiting for the order to charge.

"That being said," he continued quietly "The world is a better place with him dead - and you alive."

Well, that was just about as close to a big warm hug that she could imagine getting from the man sitting on the floor beside her. And that was what she would later blame the resurgence of her tears on, keeping her silent until he'd finished dabbing at her lip. In her current frame of mind, she might've dealt with cruelty more calmly. Jesus, how did he manage to make 'I'm glad you're not dead' sound like such high, heart-stopping praise?

What was worse was that her mind heard the kindness and her heart registered it as safety. And so began the unrelenting trembling of her hands. Pursing her lips so that she wouldn't entirely break down, her entire body - her entire being - felt like a piece of elastic stretched so taut that one errant tug would absolutely have it snapping completely. She'd thought herself more resilient than this. Some would argue that her expectations for herself were much too high, but she'd have to meet them if she was to have any hope of surviving what was to come.

Moving ever so slowly, likely so she could recoil if she wished, James reached for her hands. Taking one in both of his, he paused for but a moment, before taking up the cloth again and beginning to gently clean the blood from it. It was a mask of propriety over a gesture of comfort, if the way he squeezed her hand with the one that kept it steady as the other one worked was anything to go by, but it was of massive comfort to her all the same. At least she felt like air was actually going into her lungs with every breath in now.

And then the door slammed open and terror gripped her once more, sending her free hand scrambling for a knife that she didn't possess.

"Commodore! Commodore Norrington, sir-"

Lieutenant Groves burst into the house, his boots crunching on the broken glass strewn everywhere. James tensed visibly for the briefest of moments, but then quickly calmed again when he saw that it was no pirate making an entrance. While James relaxed, however, Groves most definitely did not, pausing in the doorway of the sitting room with wide, horrified eyes.

"What in God's name…" he took the both of them in.

Theo went to recoil, feeling like she'd been caught doing something wrong, but James' grip remained steadfast. He had a point, she realised belatedly. There was nothing suspect actually going on, and behaving like there was would only suggest the wrong thing.

"What is it, Lieutenant?"

"Miss Byrne, are you well?" Groves asked her.

She didn't have it in her to make any of her usual jokes. Her wit had run dry - a small nod left in her to substitute it.

"Lieutenant," James said impatiently.

"Right, sorry sir - you're needed. At the Governor's mansion. Urgently."

"What?" For a man apparently unaccustomed to dealing with fear, there was certainly a note of it in his voice now.

Ah. He didn't know. Of course he didn't know. Not yet. He wouldn't be here if he did, would he? She felt ridiculous for how that saddened her. Elizabeth's situation was the more pressing one - and he was in love with her. It only made sense that he would be more concerned with her and her kidnapping than cleaning blood from her hands like she was a toddler. Her hand slipped from his grasp, and this time he let it, the cloth falling from his grip and onto the floor.

In response to his superior's question, Grove gave him the universal look for a request to speak privately - namely a pointed look to the hallway. He likely feared hearing of her friend's unexpected kidnapping would send her over the edge. Complying with the suggestion, James stood and strode into the hallway. Theo only heard murmurings after that, along with an exclamation of disbelief, but she wasn't really trying to listen. She already knew, after all.

When James returned to the room, he was slipping his coat off and set it about her shoulders when he reached her, affording her some sort of modesty over her bloody nightgown.

"I must go," was all he said in the way of parting, squeezing her shoulders as he set the coat about them before turning his attention to Groves who lingered in the doorway "Stay with Miss Byrne."

He waited until he was closer to continue, speaking at a low murmur that he likely thought she couldn't hear.

"There is a body upstairs, I shall send men to take care of it shortly. You mustn't allow her to fall asleep - she has a head injury."

Groves faltered momentarily - likely having not expected to encounter one disaster on his way to inform James of another - but he recovered quickly, giving a firm 'yes sir', and then James was gone. Theo picked up the cloth from the floor and began methodically cleaning her other hand. They'd begun trembling once more, and every time she pressed the cloth down, the memory of the knife returned. It was going to be a long night. She only hoped the length of it would afford her the time she needed to pull herself together, for doing so was not optional. Not now.

A/N: Aaaand looks like we'll be celebrating 20 chapters with the big man himself - everybody's favourite captain. I'm pretty excited about it! I was going to include it in this chapter, but it would've ended up being an absolute behemoth, and very late being posted.