A/N: There are the slightest hints of an Outlander crossover in this chapter - I've tried to handle it in a way that means you don't have to be into that series to understand, though! I'm mainly just, uh, commandeering the time travel lore that's used there. A pirate's life for me, and all that. We're also at 100 reviews now, too, which I'm unendingly grateful for! Thank you guys so much, I've loved hearing your thoughts on the story so far.
When they got to their second and final night aboard The Interceptor before they were set to reach Tortuga, Theo received her summons from Jack. While he hadn't exactly ignored her up until then, he'd seemed more content to sit back and observe - much to her discomfort, for his gaze was much more intense than Will's. Or maybe it was just more consequential. When they did speak, it was either so he could bark an order at her, crack some sort of joke, or flirt. Often the latter two were combined. Admittedly, she wasn't entirely opposed to the flirting, she always endured it with a keen awareness of the fact that they had not yet had the serious conversation he had already foreshadowed. 'Serious' was not a word she would have used to describe a conversation with Jack, and so she was doubly wary of the prospect.
Still, she'd put it from her mind and assumed, thanks to his keen observations, that it would come later rather than sooner - after he'd gotten a chance to take a real measure of her. For better or for worse, though, it seemed he'd decided that a day was all he needed before he'd apparently seen enough.
Slipping through the door to the Captain's quarters behind him, she closed it behind her and stifled a laugh over the disapproving look Will shot after them. It was clear what he thought was going on. Jack sauntered to the seat behind James' desk before falling into it as if he'd owned it all his life, leaning back and eyeing her openly.
"You," he said "Are not a witch."
"I never said I was a witch," she replied, lowering herself into the chair opposite with some difficulty thanks to the aches and pains she'd acquired over the day "I said I was a seer."
"They tend to be one in the same, and I haven't seen you do a single…" he trailed off, wiggling his fingers as though to demonstrate his point "Witchy thing since you've stepped aboard this ship."
"Would you like me to catch a fish so I can gut it and read its entrails?" She asked drily.
"Only if you think it might help," he shrugged "The fact remains, love, there is some aspect to this story of yours that you're not telling me - and seeing as you've yet to make clear what you get out of this deal, and that I'm your captain, I'm not comfortable with that at all."
What harm was there in telling him?
"In return for my knowledge, I need you to take me to Tia Dalma."
"Why would you need to see her?"
"I think she might be able to return me home."
"…And where is home?" He leaned forward, eyeing her with great interest.
Theo hesitated. She'd known all along that if there was anybody she'd have to tell the truth of her situation to, it would be Jack - and, in some strange feat of luck, he was also probably one of the few here mad enough to believe her. It still made the prospect of voicing it no more of a plunge, though, especially after so many months of doing anything and everything she could to hide it. Speaking of it now would go against her basic survival instincts just as much as stepping off of a cliff might.
Her hesitation must've been plain to see on her face, for Jack leaned back again, and slid the bottle of rum he'd been drinking from over the desk towards her. Accepting it without hesitation, Theo took a gulp, and then another, all while the pirate watched on with great interest. After a third swig, she handed him the bottle back again.
"When is home, would be a better way of phrasing it," she said quietly.
Her eyes remained glued to the desk as she said it, and during the silence that followed.
"When?" He echoed doubtfully "Well now you're just not making any sense at all. Unless you're proposing that you're, what? A Viking? An Elizabethan, perhaps?"
"You've gone in the opposite direction."
Jack laughed, apparently amused enough by the prospect to entertain what he clearly thought was bullshit.
"Of course, so that means you're from a hundred years from now, then? Tell me, who is King of England in your time?"
"Three hundred years," she corrected "Give or take a decade. And it's Queen, actually - Queen Elizabeth the second."
"As interesting as I find this story, love," she could see full well that his 'interest' spanned about as far as working out how he could ditch her once they got to Tortuga "You've bypassed the part where you show me the proof of this story."
"You made a deal with Davy Jones himself, and you won't believe this?"
"Davy Jones stood before me, tentacles and all," he used a hand to demonstrate the squid-like beard of the man "That was some rather…inarguable proof."
Well, at least she had a few options. Sighing, she took a glance towards the door to make sure Will wasn't about to walk in, and then she stood, turned, and began to take off her shirt. The joke or dirty comment she expected from Jack did not come - but she had on her sports bra beneath the shirt anyway, so it wasn't much of a scandalous show of skin by her standard's - nor his, she expected. They'd left decorum and etiquette behind when they'd sailed away from Port Royal.
Using her right hand to awkwardly reach over her left shoulder, she grabbed the bra by the strap and pulled it upwards so it would expose the left side of the back of her ribcage in full to his view.
"What is that?"
She listened as Jack's chair scraped on the wooden flooring before he stood and approached.
"An embarrassing show of teenage patriotism," she made a face "They're the colours of the Irish flag - in my time, anyway."
A shamrock, to be more precise, with its three leaves inked in a watercolour style of the three respective colours of the Irish tricolour - green, white (which didn't really show much unless she got herself a tan), and orange.
"We have tattoos now, too, love."
"Mine isn't like yours - not any of yours," she pointed out "Tell me you've seen a tattoo like this in your time."
"It's unique, to be sure, and I won't complain about the canvas, but it's still not the ground-breaking proof you think it is."
Where he stood behind her, he smoothed a finger over what she knew to be one of the leaves, as if testing to see if it might smudge.
"I have something else."
Pulling her shirt back over her head when he stepped away, she retrieved her satchel and pulled her wallet from it. Admittedly, she probably could have started with this particular puzzle piece and saved herself the little strip show she'd just given him. But she'd avoided going through her belongings ever since stepping foot her, and apprehension over the effect they might have on her now gripped her as she opened the wallet. Giving it a cursory but ultimately uninterested glance, Jack returned to his chair and gestured for her to sit again. Theo complied.
"Money from my time - you'll see the date stamped on the coins," she slid the pennies towards him across the desk with a metallic scraping sound.
He appeared a little more interested now, at least, picking up a twenty cent coin and inspecting it in the candlelight. There was an interest in his face now, and when his eyes finally snapped back to her she swore there was belief there.
"Is this it?" He asked.
Hesitating, Theo shook her head before sliding a finger into one of the innermost compartments of the black leather wallet.
"In my time, painted portraits have become obsolete - replaced by something we call photographs. They capture an image instantly, no need for paints or hours of sitting."
When she pulled the prints out, she slid them across the table face down. In truth, she didn't want to see them. Not now.
"An interesting invention, if tr…"
His word cut off half way through as he beheld the first picture. Theo waited. Frowning at the photograph, Jack leaned in, and then he held it up to the candlelight.
"Don't burn it," she leaned forward to try and snatch it away from him, but he gave her an unamused look and pulled back, out of her reach.
"That's interesting," he murmured.
She almost laughed despite herself.
"This is you," he spun the photograph around so she could see it "And…your husband?"
"My father," she corrected, wrinkling her nose "At the top of Ben Nevis."
They were equipped in full hiking gear, grinning proudly at the camera. She looked away from the picture, feeling her chest tighten. Jack flicked to the next one.
"These are dogs," he said flatly.
"Not just any dogs. Ronnie and Reggie - they're mine."
"You named your dogs Ronald and Reginald?"
"They're named after…oh, it doesn't matter."
Jack didn't push for an explanation, eyeing the two rottweilers for another moment before moving to the next one.
"And this is? A brother, perhaps?"
"Ah. That one you can burn. He's an ex."
It had been a while since she'd culled her little photograph collection - usually she only did so when she was travelling, but she hadn't done a great deal of that lately. Well, not unless travelling through time and universes counted.
"An ex what?" Jack frowned before he caught on "Oh, a former lover? Not quite as proper as you make out then."
It was said like a compliment.
"Things are different back home," she murmured.
Shrugging a little, Jack continued to leaf through the remaining photo - one of her grandparents - and finally a local newspaper clipping that had been folded up, detailing her and her father's (failed) attempt at being the fastest in the world to climb Carrauntoohil. It was hardly Everest, and the attempt had mostly been made on a drunken dare from one of her uncles. They'd been set to give it another go in a month's time. Or was it even a month's time, now? She had no idea how time was passing back home. Had she been missing for all of the months she'd spent here? Or did time pass differently? If at all? Was one day here equal to an hour back home? Or even the opposite? What if she returned home to find decades had come and gone in her absence, and there was nothing to return home to?
Her hands shook beneath the desk before she gripped at her legs to make them stop. Jack took one look at her and then slid the rum bottle back towards her over the desk, standing up and retrieving another from the cabinet at the side of the room. He must've stashed it there himself, for she very much doubted that it would've been James.
"Take a drink, calm yourself down," he ordered, uncorking the bottle with his teeth.
It was almost comedic, how well he was taking this in comparison to her terror over telling him. Was there anything he didn't take in his stride?
"M'fine," she murmured, but obeyed all the same "I've just…I haven't told anybody about all of this."
"Nobody?"
She shook her head as she took a drink.
"Well, I consider myself flattered," he muttered, mirroring her action.
Setting his bottle down, he took up the photographs again, and then the article for a final time, and this time when he dropped them back to the desk he pushed them towards her again.
"So this…travelling through time. Time travel. Is it common? Where you're from? When you're from?"
"It's unheard of," she shook her head "Impossible."
"Improbably, apparently," he muttered "And all of this is history to you, then? That's how you know?"
That explanation was far easier than trying to explain the concept of a movie to him - or even these movies specifically. That in her mind she was struggling to believe that it was even truly him speaking to her, and not an actor playing at being a pirate.
"Back where I'm from? You'd be hard-pressed to find a person who doesn't know your name or face, if not your story."
She said it frankly, because she meant it frankly, not as flattery or arse-kissing. But Jack grinned a wide, brilliant grin all the same, even as he continued to stare her down as though searching for any trace of falsehood.
"I woke up in this world a few months ago," she continued slowly "And once I worked out what…what tale I was stuck in, I waited in Port Royal for you to arrive because I can think of no one else who might get me to Tia Dalma, who is the only one who might get me home again."
"She's powerful, but I don't know if she's that powerful," he murmured.
Oh, he had no idea.
"It's a gamble I'm willing to take. Whether it works out or not doesn't really impact you, because I'm happy to give you my knowledge either way."
"How very generous of you."
"It is, considering you're the only one guaranteed to get something out of it."
"I'd be taking you to Tia Dalma," he pointed out.
"You'll be going to her anyway - and like you said, we don't know if she'll even be able to help."
"Ah, but I am still operating under the assumption that your knowledge will be able to help me when Jones comes knocking - er, nipping. You know, with the," he held up a hand and mimicked a pincer.
Theo laughed despite herself, which earned her a very handsome smile of approval before he continued "Which is a very weighty assumption for me to be forced to make, and a very long time for me to wait until this little investment pays off. What is it that you might offer me in the meantime?"
At the question he posed, he offered a very exaggerated once over, but it felt like a test rather than a real proposition. Or maybe it was both bundled into one very convenient package. It left Theo unfazed, though, for she had few delicate sensibilities to offend, and she suspected it would be a great challenge indeed to find a woman on this planet that Jack would not flirt with almost as a matter of principle. While she had little intention of entertaining whatever offer he was putting on the table…she didn't have a problem with the fact that he made it.
"Peace of mind," she replied.
"That is not what I was getting at," he countered.
"I've proven my knowledge to you - I'll continue to do so, where I can. When we arrive at Tortuga, we'll find Mr Gibbs passed out in a pigsty. From there, with his help, you'll assemble a crew. Said crew will contain a man who lost his tongue, and an old familiar face as far as you're concerned. From there, we pursue Barbossa."
"I believe you, darlin', I really do, but thus far all you've done is tell me what's going to happen - by the sound of things, what's going to happen whether you're here or not. It sounds to me like all your presence will do so far is take the mystery out of things, which ruins the fun a bit, no?"
"Jack - Captain," she sighed, leaning forward "I am more familiar with tales of your life than I'd like to admit. The main ones - the lengthy, really epic ones that everybody knows - are in the form of three tales. This one? The one we're in now? It's the first, and we're not even half way through it. Jones doesn't come into play until the second. If things don't happen as I know them to, if I change things too early, I won't be able to change them when it matters. For now I will help you when I can, but I can only do so within the constraints of not changing things to come beyond recognition. It's pointless my…my saving you from a paper cut now only to let you lose your legs in a year's time."
"That's not going to happen, is it?" He balked.
"No," she snorted "It's not."
"Good," he nodded "So the deal is this, then. You have my word - on my honour - that I'll take you to Tia Dalma so you can find your merry way home…once my debt is squared with Jones."
Theo stilled.
"That's much too far away," she replied.
It wasn't a fucking option, was what it was. By the time Jack would consider her end of the deal held up, Calypso would've been released - and she didn't know of any other gods swaggering around this world who could send her home.
"Which will make your reunion with your homeland all the sweeter," he shrugged.
"No," she disagreed immediately "Once you have the Pearl back, I'll give you whatever information you might need, and then you can take me to Tia Dalma and I'll head home."
"No deal. You'll wait until Jones is dealt with," his tone broached no room for argument.
"That's years away, Jack - please. I can't stay here all that time. I'll tell you everything I know, I swear it."
She intended to be true to her word, too. All she really had to do was warn him not to trust Elizabeth. Not to kiss her. It didn't matter what it would fuck up if she wasn't going to be around to see it. Or so she told herself. The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth, but for all she knew this universe would cease to exist once she left it - as narcissistic as the thought was. Hell, she could even warn James when she next saw him. Find some subtle way to say 'hey, when you're on the Dutchman in a few years' time and Elizabeth asks you to go with her - maybe consider it, mate' and hope he'd remember it when it counted. It didn't matter what butterfly effect it would all have, for she'd get home and the movies would remain unchanged anyway. She could simply tell herself that it worked, and then she could forget it all. Or do her best to forget. She'd certainly never watch them again…if only because of what fate befell James alone. No, she could never watch that.
But none of that could still be said, none of her lack of care could still be clung to, if she was still here when the second and third movies occurred. Any stomach she had to mess up the events of the movies by helping Jack wasn't likely to remain if she had to witness the consequences - if she had to watch Will or Elizabeth die, truly die and not come back, because of events she unwittingly set in motion. And that didn't even begin to cover the important and pivotal events that she wasn't sure she could stand by and leave unchanged if she stayed. Did that make her a terrible person? For her willingness to accept the consequences of her knowledge, and whatever that knowledge spurred into action, only stretching so far as those consequences going unwitnessed by herself? That she was happy to change things only if she could cut and run after to avoid the fall-out? Only live with the imagined upsides? Yes. Yes, it made her a terrible fucking person. But if she wasn't around to witness it all, changed or not, it wouldn't be real. Would it?
The entire matter was a dizzying one, but one fact remained certain - staying made not changing anything a non-option, not just because of her word to Jack, but because she could not be here for the events of the third movie and simply watch James die. Even the idea of that had tears springing to her eyes, as much as she despised them. However, changing anything could prove to be an equally impossible notion. There would be no winning, for she didn't dare to think she could change anything without it wreaking some unforeseen disaster - one for which the blame would be on her shoulders alone. No, the only victory would be if she got home before the choice was even posed and shirked the responsibility entirely, whether that made her a coward or not. At least it put no lives in her hands.
Uncorking the bottle, she resisted the urge to chug what rum was left. She didn't like it, but Jack's death had to happen. In fact, she liked it less and less the more she stared the man in the eye. She wasn't an executioner. But his death put the kraken at bay, and it set everybody up to beat Beckett. If he was going to insist that she was around for all of it, she would have to let him die, which would mean she was already breaking the deal she was sitting here right now making with him.
"And what if you miss something, Miss Byrne?" Jack continued, unaware of her inner turmoil thanks to the strings he'd attached to their deal "If you forget one key detail? If whatever plan you hatch to help me doesn't work, but you're no longer around with your endless wealth of knowledge to amend it? No. You must remain until you've seen out your side, and then I'll see out mine. You can't ask for fairer than that."
Fuck. She should've seen this coming. Why hadn't she seen it coming? She'd been too busy focusing on whatever step was immediately before her, truth be told. But maybe…maybe she could convince Tia Dalma anyway. Jack would have to go and see her when the events of the second movie kicked off, regardless. Theo could talk to her then - convince her to help, somehow. Calypso loved her talk of destiny and fate, surely she'd be itching to send Theo home if it meant fate going on undisturbed? Attempting to convince her whether Jack liked it or not would mean double-crossing him, but she knew him well enough to know he'd do the same to her. It wasn't something she thought she'd ever take comfort in, but she sure as hell did now.
"All right," she muttered.
What choice did she have? If she didn't agree, he'd abandon her in Tortuga. She had to make her decisions based on the here and now, and pray it would work. Much like every other damned character in this saga.
"Good! Very good," he grinned "Welcome to the crew, Miss Byrne - officially."
Resisting the urge to grumble, she returned the contents of her wallet to her bag, but when she stood to leave Jack was speaking again.
"Hold it," he said, motioning for her to sit again - like she was a dog.
Giving him an unamused look, she obeyed.
"Just one more question, love," he gave a smile that was entirely unbothered by her ire "How did you get here? You said it's thought to be impossible, even all those centuries from now. It doesn't seem like the sort of thing you manage accidentally."
"No," she sighed "If it was, you'd have probably managed it by now."
Jack chuckled quietly - one that betrayed the adventures tucked away within his years of living that would seem absurd in number for a man double or even triple his age. He didn't respond to the comment though, giving her no small-talk to distance herself from her tale with. So Theo sighed, leaning back in her chair.
This conversation hadn't gone how she'd hoped. It hadn't been an absolute disaster, but it had…it had posed a real problem. Despite all of that, though, she felt lighter for having told the truth. Despite the worry, the fear, the shaking, the emotion, everything that it had stirred within her, she felt better now. The worst point had been the build-up to saying it, but after it had been said, it freed her. What was one more little story?
"I'd been doing a lot of hiking. I had to move back in with my dad for a bit back home, so going out for hikes would get me out. Get me some time to myself…and that's when I found the rath."
"What trail are you taking?" Her dad asked as she sat on the stairs, tying her boots.
"I'm not sure - I'm just gonna wander. I won't be back 'til late."
"You got your knife?"
"In my bag," she kicked at her hiking pack with her free foot.
"It should be on your belt," he said with mild disapproval.
"The holster that goes on my belt broke - I'm wearing shorts, I don't want to cut my legs up if I just stick it in my belt without one."
"All right, I'll see about getting you a new one, I don't like you being without it at hand," he sighed with a shrug, scratching at his beard that was more grey than black these days "You know the trails anyway, though, yeah?"
"Of course - and I've never had to use my knife yet."
"Better to have it and not need it," he shrugged "No headphones, all right? Just in case."
Nodding in agreement, she finally stood "I was going to take the dogs with me, anyway. Nobody'll bother me with the boys around - they don't know they're softies."
"Ronnie's paw's still healing from when he decided to fight that bloody wasp, and Reggie'll be a nightmare if you take him out without him," her dad made a face.
"Ah. Guess not then - but I've got my knife, no headphones, and then these absolute weapons," she flexed her biceps to display her point before taking up her pack "I'll be fine."
Rolling his eyes, her dad nodded with a sigh "You will be. If I'm not here when you get back, I've gone to Uncle Jason's. Lock the door before you go to bed, I'll take my key."
"Can do, will do," she nodded in confirmation, approaching him and offering a one-armed hug that he returned happily with a heavily tattooed hand clapping her back "I'll see you later, yeah? Love you."
Whatever farewell he offered was disrupted as the front door closed behind her. It didn't take even ten full minutes of walking before Theo reached the rural trail that she'd been searching for. Only once the trees were all around her, obscuring any sight of the small town behind her, did she begin to feel truly relaxed. True to her word, she didn't dig out her headphones from her back - she liked the quiet, anyway. Moving back home had been difficult, but not because of any logistics that went into it.
Any friends she had who had to move back in with parents after university or such always struggled because of the dynamic; the having had a taste of freedom before going back to being treated like an unruly teenager. She'd had no such problems with that. Even when she'd been an unruly teenager, her father hadn't treated her like one - much to the surprise of everybody who then found out he was former military, because they expected him to be a ridiculously strict sort who inspected her bed for perfect military corners every morning. Thank god that wasn't the case.
No, the problem had been her pride. The last thing she'd thought when she'd last moved out was that she'd ever be back for anything beyond a stay over the holidays. Life had other plans. Which was fine. She tried to take it in her stride, but there was a certain sting to having it happen while all of her nearest and dearest friends carved out their own paths in their chosen fields, pursuing their passions, building their lives. Meanwhile she was back in her teenage bedroom - Christ, there was still a poster of Kurt Cobain on the door.
Nobody was dickish about it, and in truth she knew nobody judged her for it. It wasn't even slightly uncommon to still be at home at twenty-three (or almost twenty-four) these days, so her own expectations were the only thing that tripped her up, but it was still unwelcome. She'd heard all of the old clichés. That different flowers bloomed at different times, that things in the dark hadn't been buried but planted, that not all those who wandered were lost, but she felt lost. She'd yet to find her great passion, her calling, or even something that she vaguely wanted to do with her life. Nor even somebody who she was vaguely tempted to spend it with - not after the last asshole.
So she hiked. For hiking, camping, being in nature - that was the only thing that offered that feeling. That security. That, when she was doing it, never had her feeling like she should be doing something else instead. Family members had suggested she turn that into a way of making money - a trail guide, or such, but in her mind the only way that it could be ruined was if she was dragging along a group of whiny tourists complaining that they'd worn the wrong shoes, or asking if there was a McDonald's nearby. It didn't help that turning the thing that offered her so much solace into a method of making money didn't sit well with her. It just seemed a way to ruin it. Still, nobody seemed in much of a rush to pay her to wander the woods until her mind fell blank.
It was lucky, then, that she was content to do so for free. And fall blank, her mind did. She didn't pay much attention to where she was going - primarily because she didn't feel like she needed to. When she was a kid, her father would often challenge her to a game (always under his watchful eye, of course) - to get them as lost as she possibly could when they were out camping, which was the easy part, and then to get them un-lost. While part of her now found it ironic, for she was now lost in the one way that she couldn't at all manage to undo, it was still soothing. And anyway, she had a GPS navigator on her phone. So she took the smaller trails - the muddied ones, covered in leaves and branches with no upkeep, and went further and further into the woods until any sunlight that surrounded her was green-tinged from the trees up above - idly remembering the stories she used to tell herself of elves and fairies lurking within the woods.
It was that thought that remained in her mind when she spotted the first fairy ring - a small, perfect circle of white mushrooms lying just off of the trail. Skirting to the opposite side of the trail, she intended to give it a wide berth, but then she spotted another, just past the treeline…and another after that. Frowning, Theo paused. She would not enter it, she wouldn't enter any of them, she wasn't an idiot, but there was just a nagging feeling deep within her chest that they would lead somewhere. Somewhere worthwhile.
There was more than enough room around them - to walk by them, without walking through. Legend said that those who stepped into fairy rings would forced to dance with the fairies until madness or death by exhaustion set in, whichever came first. So, with the thought that following her gut had not let yed her astray, she ventured off of the path. The grass was even longer here and more unkempt, brushing at her ankles as she followed each circle until she lost count of how many she'd gone by. Five was the last number she made a point of recalling before giving up - then another, then another, then another, then another.
That was when she heard the buzzing. At first she'd lost all mind for superstition, half convinced that the fairies had been playing some trick on her - that they were leading her to a beehive, a perfectly natural mishap, and she'd be enduring the walk home with a nasty sting or two. But something kept her walking towards it, stopped her from turning back towards the trail, and the buzzing intensified until any bee that caused it would have to be the size of a horse. It enveloped her entire being, sending shockwaves up her legs until she was certain she'd be forced to walk like a drunken idiot if it grew any worse.
In the end, it led her to a clearing - and that was when she saw the rath. A great stone circle protruding out through the earth, covered in grass and moss. Her first instinct was to leave. This wasn't something that people messed with - not people who weren't idiots. But something would not let her. It was like her foot was rooted to the ground whenever she wanted to step anywhere but forward, the same something within her chest that had led her here screaming at her to keep going. Faltering, she sighed and slid her pack from her shoulders so that she might move quickly when this inevitably went wrong. If she wanted to make a quick escape, she could grab it by the strap and leg it without it thunking against her back on the whole run back to the trail.
Only once she was sure she wasn't disturbing another ring by placing her pack down next to a nearby tree did she let go of it, and take another step towards the buzzing. By the time that strange feeling stopped coaxing here nearer, she was within arm's reach of the outermost ring. The feeling did not go away, though, instead it seemed to praise her - reinforcing that she'd done the right thing, even as she mentally apologised over and over to the fairies, hoping that they knew she wasn't trying to intrude. The buzzing was moving up her harms now, invading her head and her chest, too, until she couldn't even hear her own breathing over it. It was combined now, too, with the sickening sensation of bobbing up and down at sea, the one that usually only plagued her when she tried to sleep.
Sinking to her knees amidst the dizzying frenzy, she felt the earth beneath her to see if that was the source of it, and in hopes of finding some stability. Perhaps there was some underground spring that rushed not too far beneath the earth that caused this strange sensation. But no. The stillness of the earth beneath her hand was almost jarring in comparison to the forces threatening to overtake her. When she lifted her hand up, the closest protruding piece of rock seemed to call to her. Theo hesitated, her vision spinning. Reaching her hand out, she paused - not out of fear, for the buzzing was leaving little room for that now, too. No, instead because she could've sworn she heard somebody shout her name.
"Theodora!" Her full name, echoing faintly throughout the woods, and then it came again.
Whipping her head around, she looked for the source. Her father? No, it couldn't be - the accent was wrong. It was…English? The voice, too, was all wrong - not unpleasant, but deep and foreign to her. But in her distraction, she hadn't realised her hand twitching forward - as though being pulled by an invisible force. The feeling of being on a rocking boat worsened, and finally tilted her the rest of the way towards the rock. The tips of her fingers touching the cool, damp stone was the last thing she was consciously aware of before the world gave way around her.
When she next opened her eyes, she was afloat.
A/N: A super long chapter, and a glimpse into Theo's life immediately before this. Theo's dad is inspired by Ant Middleton - who is himself a former SAS operative. I have a pretty busy month ahead so the chapters might not be quite so frequent while I adjust, but I'm still going to strive to at least have one per week - and hopefully the length of this one makes up for it.