"You know, love, when you told me I'd get the Pearl back, this isn't quite what I pictured."
Theo glanced around their cell - thanking the stars that at least they'd been put in the same one, even if that fortuitous set of circumstances had been accompanied by some crude jokes about them 'keeping each other company' while the crew got the ship underway. Sitting on the decaying bench that the cell offered, she lifted her knees up to her chin to avoid her boots being ruined by the filthy saltwater that swilled around the bottom of the cell.
"You didn't? Shit. Well, I guess there's been a miscommunication," Theo replied drily.
"If it was to end badly, though, I don't suppose you'd be here," Jack pointed out, turning a blind eye to her snark.
"Unless I'm just massively suicidal."
"Are you on your own side or not? I seem to be the only one arguing in favour of it at the moment."
"Trust me, I ask myself the same thing a lot," she muttered.
"Ah, then we have that in common," he grinned.
Despite Jack's half-hearted griping, he didn't actually seem to be in bad cheer. Theo very much got the sense he was bickering more for the sake of it than because he had any real bone to pick. She supposed she could see why, though. While he wasn't at the helm of his ship, at least he was on it. Better to be at the bottom rung of the ladder than lying on the ground beside it.
"I could've gone with Will and Elizabeth, and you know it, so what's the point in my voicing something we already both know?"
"You probably should have, if you had a lick of sense inside that fiery head of yours," he shrugged lazily "You know I survive my - our - time here, but not that you do."
"Again, why voice something we both know?" She grimaced.
He smiled. Theo was certain he took much too much joy in winding her up. She'd need to get him back for that at some point. Maybe when she was a bit surer of her footing in his good graces.
Thankfully, it seemed the universe sensed her need for a reprieve - for the moment they were underway in pursuit of The Interceptor, a couple of Barbossa's lackeys returned. These ones she did not recognise, but it wasn't her they bothered with.
"Sparrow," one grunted while the other unlocked the cell "The captain will see you now."
Jack glanced towards her and she half-rose, but the crew member continued before he could say anything "Alone."
"I'll bring you a souvenir, shall I, love?"
"One of those apples. I'm fucking starving," she muttered, sitting back down again.
She was almost surprised that he didn't put up a fuss - not towards her fruit-based request, but over the fact that they wouldn't allow her to go with them. Either he had finally taken to heart her protestations over not being able to change anything yet, or the confidence he exuded as he strode from the cell as though he was an honoured guest rather than a prisoner wasn't put on in the slightest, and he didn't feel he needed her help here at all. It could have been either one, really.
Ignoring Jack's dramatic exit, as well as the leers and jeers of the crew as they escorted him out, Theo made herself as comfortable as she could, resting her head back against the bars of the adjoining cell, and allowed herself to think. Thinking was rather difficult around Jack - she had no idea how he even managed to come up with his brilliant schemes considering he never got a break from his own head.
The universe had made itself abundantly clear. So clear, in fact, that continuing to ignore it would do more harm than good. It had done everything but place a bright, flashing neon sign above his reading reading "save him, bitch" in glowing, cursive lettering. A shame, really, because she would've quite liked to see that. Were it just the coincidence between that and the book series she'd mentioned to Jack, she might've shrugged it off. But there was so much more than that. He'd found her, he'd taken responsibility for her, he'd homed her, he'd been the best - the best friend that she could have asked for. Even the voice she'd heard back home in the moments before she'd woken up in this universe was beginning to sound an awful lot like his in hindsight, but perhaps that was just her overtired and paranoid mind playing tricks on her.
She wasn't going to just try to save him, for she didn't believe in trying - she believed in doing. Trying didn't mean a damn thing. She was going to save him. Not with his life on the line. That much had been painfully bloody obvious for weeks, if not months. But more than that, it was highly likely - unless she was suffering from severe delusions of grandeur and misreading the blatant signs - that she was here to save him, rather than just for the sake of a highly deadly Caribbean cruise. Her mind was made up - in stone, in steel, in fucking carbon. It was going to be done. She would see it done, whatever it took, and not just because she might as well if she was going to be stuck here all the while, but because she had to.
If she was being completely honest with herself, the whole thing was a foregone conclusion - and it had been for some time. Perhaps not since he'd found her adrift at sea, she didn't kid herself that she was that heroic or benevolent, but certainly not long afterwards. Even if Jack had agreed to take her to Tia Dalma the moment The Black Pearl was back under his command, and if Tia Dalma was able to send her home (a very big 'if' in itself), she wasn't entirely certain she'd have been able to go through with it without at least trying to do something to change the course of James' sorry fate. The whole thing just wasn't something she'd wanted to consciously face yet…not least because of the consequences that failure would wreak. She couldn't bring herself to seriously entertain the thought of such an outcome, even though she didn't yet actually have a plan at all, never mind one that might fail.
But even if he hadn't wormed his way into her heart with his wry looks that seemed to say a great deal without actually speaking a word, his bloody honour, and his dry sense of humour which most overlooked and deemed non-existent, she would still be considering this now, if only because he would do the exact same for her. She doubted a lot, especially when it came to people, but she never doubted that. Never doubted him. Not in this regard, anyway. Not in most regards. The only cause she had for that came down to laughably petty reasons - the strange chemistry between them that she was certain existed, even if he ignored it as steadfastly as she tried to. The kiss, and the endless confusion it had given rise to every time she tried to sleep since - because apparently the absence of her nightly phantom seasickness meant she had to be given new reasons to stay awake, staring grumpily into the darkness as she waited for her mind to just shut the hell up.
Confusion, the fifty-five new problems that her decision created, and mortifying heart ache aside, the fact remained. He was a good man. It wasn't a label she bestowed upon many. She could count them on one hand and still have fingers to spare. Even if he hated her when they next met, and that was a strong possibility in itself, she would do this. Because he deserved it, because she couldn't not do it. Because she was…fond of him. Yep. Fond. That was the word she would go with for now - because even now, even in the confines of her own mind, she wasn't ready to face the full extent of the mess she'd gotten herself into as far as James Norrington was concerned beyond words that suggested it was little more than a silly crush.
Although, to be fair, she'd argue that it was the universe that got her into it more so than herself. But she couldn't give it the middle finger without looking like she'd lost her mind, and she knew there would be plenty of occasions yet where she'd rely on its help to survive (for she didn't possess Jack's supernatural good luck), so she refrained, and took the brunt of the blame. After all, it wasn't the universe who'd eaten at his table, danced with him at a ball, and kissed him to top it all off.
No, that was all on her. And still, she couldn't bring herself to regret any of it.
Jack was escorted none too gently back to the brig sometime later by Bo'sun, Barbossa's incredibly burly and imposing First Mate. Theo watched silently, but Jack didn't share her sense of intimidation when it came to the man, glancing to the water on the floor and then Theo, who still sat with her knees up to her chin.
"Apparently there's a leak," he commented blithely.
It went ignored, but her captain didn't seem too heartbroken by that, sauntering towards the hole in the wall of their cell.
"Does it rub salt in the wound a bit?" She asked "That he stole the ship from you and then just didn't bother properly maintaining it?"
"Almost as much as you feeling the need to point it out," he replied drily, hurtling something in her direction.
Theo caught it on instinct. A bright green apple, just as she'd requested. It looked like Jack didn't ignore people half as much as they ignored him - that, or he was still on the charm offense.
"Bless you," she sighed contentedly, taking a very un-ladylike bite from it.
"Am I to take your appetite as an indicator that this fight goes well?"
"Depends who you ask," she replied with her mouth full.
James certainly wouldn't say so, considering his darling ship would soon be in pieces. He was nothing if not practical, though, and she suspected the moment he saw Jack at the helm of The Interceptor, he knew the fate that it was destined for. Well, it wouldn't be long before she could ask if that assessment was right. They'd see each other come tomorrow morning. Unless Barbossa decided to keep her - somehow a prospect that filled her with less foreboding. For better or for worse, though, he hadn't seemed to put much stock in Jack's claims of her witchy abilities, and her money was firmly on herself being marooned with Jack within the hour, with little to do but wait for the happy reunion.
And it was that thought that did sour her appetite, the next bite of the apple suddenly tasting far too bitter for her to stomach. She dropped it with a sigh. At least there would be rum on the island. The movies made this adventure seem so long and drawn out, but now that she was living it, it seemed to go by in bursts of incredible speed separated by bouts of stomach-clenching slow motion - dread and adrenaline.
Jack watched the slow progression of her demeanour, a frown on his face, before he turned his attention back to his little peephole. That much made her happy - the fact that his questions regarding the future didn't tend to demand a real answer. He was the most impossible man to argue with, and she didn't fancy reiterating her point of her 'powers' being worth precious little for the time being. Maybe in the future, too. Christ, she was feeling defeatist today.
The ship was picking up some serious speed, the cries of the crew up above suggesting The Interceptor was in sight. They would be trying to lose them among the shoals by now, the sloop much more suited to shallower waters than The Black Pearl was. Glancing towards the entrance to the brig, she could see her and Jack's belongings, strewn across a grimy old table. At least they wouldn't have to face what was to come without them. And it was that thought that left her with another unwelcome realisation.
"Fuck," she hissed, jumping to her feet.
Water flooded her boots.
"It doesn't end well, then?" Jack asked, rather disinterestedly.
Her belongings - her actual belongings from back home, the ones she hadn't stolen - were back on The Interceptor. The dress, the satchel, and the general tat she could happily do without. But the photographs? Panic seized at her, even though she could practically hear her dad laughing at her for it. This is what happens when you put too much sentimental value on trinkets, he'd say. And he'd be right. She couldn't even fault it, because she wished he was here to say it in person.
But it wasn't just sentimentality, damn it. She wouldn't pretend that played no part in it - she was already facing the fact that she would be here for years, not months, and a small and irrational part of her felt a sharp streak of panic at having to go through it with nothing but her necklace to link her to home. There were other reasons, though. Those photographs were the only proof she had. The only reason Jack believed her. Admittedly, they did have the potential to cause a whole lot more harm than good, but it was a risk she was willing to take.
The roars and cries she could hear doubled in number and volume both, telling her they'd finally caught up with The Interceptor, but before she could ask Jack what he could see, the almighty boom of cannon fire had her mouth quickly closing, and her forearm brought up defensively in front of her face out of pure instinct. The only thing that could make this day worse would be being blinded by a splinter, and fighting Ragetti for his wooden eye. It seemed a bit unsanitary. The shrapnel that burst through the wall of their cell flew past the both of them, Jack all but barrelling into her as he just managed to step out of the way.
Falling back into the iron bars of the cell with a winded gasp, she pushed him away from her so that she wouldn't be crushed beneath him, only just managing to not end up on the floor beside him. He seemed unfazed by getting his arse soaked, though, instead choosing to shout through the hole in the wall with such a sincere attempt at authority that she couldn't help but wonder if he really thought they might hear him.
"Stop blowing holes in my ship!"
Despite herself, she huffed a laugh that actually had the slightest shred of humour to it. Mostly because while Jack's attention was on the flask that had been blown into the cell, her eyes were fixed firmly on the lock that had been blasted clean off of the door. He noticed it but a second after she did, and then they were quickly rushing out and towards their belongings.
"Stay close to me, got it?" He ordered, now back in full authority mode before adding as if as an afterthought (and as if she was Will) "And don't get in the way."
She was quite bored of following his orders for the day.
"I need to get back onto The Interceptor," she disagreed quickly, shrugging on her coat and taking up the shortsword.
"Well lucky you, because that's where we're headed."
Ah. The medallion. Of course. Well, that was all well and good, but her belongings were below deck. Whether it was even still accessible was a hell of a question, followed up closely by whether she could get there and back before the ship was blown up. Usually she wouldn't even question it, but murderous zombie pirates hindering her progress also happened to be one hell of a hurdle. Testing her grip on the blade, she shared a determined look with Jack, her jaw setting and her mind honing in on her goal until she was entirely single-minded. Medallion be damned, she would get that wallet, damn it.
They shared a nod, and then they were racing out of the brig and towards the steps that led up towards the deck, ready to join the fray as cannon fire continued to rain down upon them. Readying her blade, one coherent thought drifted through her mind as they burst up into the daylight - and the battle. She couldn't wait to raid the rum stores on that marooned island come nightfall.
A/N: Sorry for being late with this chapter and for it not having a whole lot of action, the next one will have way more going on — just had a bit of a mental health blip (nothing alarming, just my brain being my brain), which slowed things down. I don't like to force things too much when I feel like that, because I'm wary of it showing in the writing and ending with a rushed mess of a chapter just for the sake of it being on time. I'm thinking of maybe building up a little stockpile of chapters - just one or two in advance - for occasions like these, so all I need to do is upload a chapter I've already written when a bad bout hits. We'll see!