A/N: So I'm going to be absent from my fics in general (for those of you who also follow my Draco Malfoy/OC fic) for the holidays from the 22nd onwards, going through into January, and I really want to get this first part of the story wrapped up before I go. The good news there being that after this chapter, I think it'll only take me one more chapter to do that. I feel like I started it just last week, so it's mad that we're in so deep now. Thank you guys so much for reading and being so lovely and supportive! James is an underrated character, and I know this trope is done to death and often very difficult to do right, so I wasn't expecting half of what I've gotten in response so far, but I'm so massively grateful for every bit of it!

James would have been lying if he pretended that his eyes didn't wander towards Theodora frequently over the next few days. It was a habit he'd been in, denial aside, before…well, before everything occurred, and one he'd had to wrench himself out of upon their return to Port Royal. Not that he'd had much occasion to practise that self restraint, considering she'd avoided his presence as much as humanly possible most of the time. For that, he could not blame her. More often than not, he'd even been grateful for it. It saved them both from awkward and stilted conversations that stood in sharp contrast to the ease that once lay between them.

But now…now he was back to watching. Observing. And with even less idea of what to make of what he saw than he had in the beginning. Whatever it was she was claiming to be, she was being honest. Were it not true, she at least thought that it was. He'd meant what he'd said - he believed that she believed. And it was involuntary, or so she said. Akin to…a - a sneeze. Or a fever. He wasn't sure whether he found that thought more or less reassuring than it would've been if she had control over this…this ability. Burden. Power. Whatever it was. Supposedly.

Had anybody else come to him citing such a story, he'd have laughed in their faces before making a mental note to firmly avoid them wherever possible from then on. But he knew Theodora - he knew her to be rational and no-nonsense, perhaps not to a fault as some would accuse him of being, no, it worked in sharp counterpoint to her ability to laugh at almost anything under the sun, but still. She wasn't fanciful and superstitious. He doubted he'd wake up one morning to find her setting the curtains ablaze because this 'gut feeling' told her to do so.

He'd eliminated the other possibilities - that she was mad, that she was lying, that she was some whimsical hysteric who could mistake mere coincidence for something extraordinary. That left him only with one outcome. That she was telling the truth. He couldn't quite decide if he was pleased or upset about that - if he'd rather that she'd been telling Groves the truth. Although some small, petty part of him took pride in the fact that she found no difficulty lying to the Lieutenant while being unable to boast of the same ease when it came to him. For they had that in common, did they not? An ability to appear entirely unbothered, unaffected, when the reverse was true. It was some strange relief to see that it was just a façade in her case, as it was in his.

Mostly, he sorely missed the days when that façade was not raised against him as it was towards the rest of the world. It was a sorry state of affairs. Still, she endured his observations with well-feigned obliviousness, so at least there was that small mercy. And it was that which gave him the space and the peace he needed to finally offer a verdict, three days after she'd made her claims.

"These feelings you have," he broke the silence abruptly over the breakfast table that morning.

Theodora looked up at him from her plate of fruit, eyes wide with alarm. She was garbed in a day dress of forest green - a colour she favoured, and he could see why. With the morning light casting them and a table in a warm glow, it might've been a serene picture, were it not for all of the discord they found themselves mired in.

"These…premonitions, if that's what you would call them," he continued haltingly.

Some of the alarm left her face. Ah. She'd thought he'd been referring to the feelings of a less supernatural nature. James cleared his throat.

"Feelings is fine," she offered "Makes it sound less ridiculous."

There wasn't much that could make it sound less ridiculous - nor make him feel less ridiculous for entertaining it at all. He half expected her to start laughing at any moment and reveal it all to be some great practical joke.

"Very well," he said "These feelings. Are they telling you anything now?"

That question earned him a slow blink, prompting him to speak again, more to put himself at ease than anything else.

"Are we to find ourselves facing a typhoon? A tidal wave, perhaps?"

"You're laughing at me," she said flatly, dropping the grape she'd just been considering back to her plate.

"No," he replied - and he meant it "Not at you. At…all of it. I suppose."

That earned him a slow nod, at least, before she made a face that seemed to say 'fair enough'.

"Are they?" He prompted again.

"No, nothing like that," she murmured "But that doesn't mean it won't happen. Just that I don't know."

"Nothing like that?" he echoed "Suggesting there's something else? Something of a different nature?"

Theodora shifted uncomfortably under the weight of his gaze and he set his fork down, pushing his plate of eggs away from him. He had a feeling he wouldn't like what she had to say next.

"I need to see Jack Sparrow," she said softly.

And thus ended whatever semblance of ease they'd managed to regain.

"Absolutely not."

"James-"

"No!"

"I tried to go yesterday, but the guards wouldn't let me in without permission from you - and proof of permission, too."

"Which they no doubt demanded when you told them that you did have permission."

If he was determined to give her credit, he might do so for the way she at least attempted to fight the defiant smile that twitched its way onto her lips. The part of him that wished very much to be annoyed with her hated how endearing he found that. The joy that he took in the fact that she was not meek and content to do as she was told.

"Theodora, I am trying most ardently to prevent your being hanged as a pirate. Would you care to explain why you don't feel the need to help me in that effort?"

"Because attending my own hanging seems like a great excuse to not go to your wedding," she shrugged.

He sighed "Another joke?"

"Just a little one."

"If I'm doing my best to be optimistic, I might take comfort in the fact that we can laugh about it now," he said tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

The smile she offered at that once he opened his eyes again was more tinged with sorrow than he would've liked.

"Why do you need to see Sparrow?"

"Just to talk."

"About?"

"Nothing in particular."

"Ah. So it's a very pressing need, then," he said drily.

"Send one of your men with me - send Groves with me."

"You've already shown your contentment when it comes to deceiving him."

Guilt crossed her features then, her brow furrowing as she faltered. He almost apologised, but he did not - not when she was asking him for permission to speak with Jack sodding Sparrow, of all people. Any unease (for he bloody refused to label it jealousy - Sparrow was the last damned man on this planet who he would ever deign to be jealous of) he felt over whatever bond lay between Theodora and the pirate resurfaced with a vengeance.

"Come with me yourself, then," she said "You can thwart any escape attempt before it even begins."

James stilled, the surprise flitting across his face before he had the presence of mind to stop it.

"…No," he said once he regained control of himself, clearing his throat "No. I think not. No good can come from it. It's inappropriate."

"James, please. Ten minutes. You can be there the whole time. And then, I swear to you, I'll never ask anything of you ever again."

He liked the thought of that much less than she could ever know.

"Five," he said, tone broaching no room for argument.

"…Five?"

"Five minutes. Less if anything suspect occurs. And you'll remain five paces back from the bars at all times. Under my supervision."

The smile that earned him - surprised, warm, and lovely - was almost worth it.

Theo held her skirts out of her way as she carefully made her way down the stone steps towards the end cell in which Jack was being housed. Most of the others still lacked a wall. James lingered at the top of the stairs rather than following her down them - something which surprised her. She'd half expected him to insist that she conduct the whole visit handcuffed to him.

Jack was sitting on the floor or his cell, one leg stretched out before him while the other was brought up to his chest, one arm leaning on it. His head was tilted back, his eyes closed. But Theo knew that he was very aware of her presence, much like last time.

"Hello Captain," she greeted softly, trying and failing to mask her discomfort "It's going to be a right rotten few weeks."

His eyes opened and he fixed her with a black look. Theo stood and endured it.

"You know," he said finally "I thought you in love with the eunuch - assumed that was the reason for it all. I can see now that I was mistaken. But not too mistaken, I suppose. Still leaves you playing second fiddle to Lady Swann either way, dunnit?"

Theo gave a tired smile. It was a jab designed solely to draw blood.

"If it was anybody else I might be offended, but with her I can see what all the fuss is about," she answered with a great deal of affected indifference.

But she wasn't oblivious to James shifting his weight from one foot to the other from where he stood a few metres away. It was the only thing that gave away his discomfort…as well as how keenly he was listening.

"Very sporting of you," Jack said, tone devoid of emotion.

It was a far cry from his usual cheer. But she couldn't blame him - in his boots, she wouldn't trust her either.

"Humble in victory and in defeat," she said.

"Haven't seen much victory yet, darlin'. Not unless your goals are very different from what I once thought."

Ah. So here it was, their real talk. Coded, yes, given James' presence, but better than the jabs. The brief glance Jack sent in the good Commodore's direction (well, more or less, considering his back was to him) illustrated his point - not that he couldn't speak freely with him here, for she doubted that bothered him very much, but that he was accusing her of being on James' side rather than his. That this had been her goal.

"You think I'm a lot more conniving than I am," she snorted.

"Told you I've never 'ad much luck with the Irish," he replied.

"That'll change."

"You haven't changed it so far, love."

"I will."

"You will?"

He glanced about the cell and the question was clear - 'is another great escape on the cards?'

"I won't have to."

"You won't?"

"I…" she thought carefully before stressing her next word "…will."

"Well now you're just not making any sense at all, Miss Byrne," he eyed her curiously "Although I suppose it's not such a strange turn of events for a woman to be contradictory."

"Har, har," she replied.

But she hadn't been oblivious to his wording, either. A strange turn of events, indeed. Thankfully, he'd had the good sense not to place any emphasis at all on the word - if he had, she feared James would have absolutely caught on in some way or another. They were already dancing a jig on perilously thin ice as it was.

"You remember what I told you, right? What we spoke of on the island? Peaks and valleys. Light and dark. Trust and faith."

How many times had she told him that there'd doubtlessly be times when things looked dire, and he found himself distrusting her for her lack of a role? How many times had she been referring to this exact situation when she'd warned him? Okay, despite the rumours Jack Sparrow was absolutely only human, and any human on this earth (or back home) would absolutely have at least one moment of slight down when faced down with a scaffold, but surely the fact that she'd had the balls to show her face should reassure him. She hoped so, anyway. The last thing she needed was to be chucked headfirst off of the Pearl the moment it showed up next.

"Never been much of a man of faith, either, so I'm afraid it's a bit late to turn me to the man upstairs. Thought you knew that when you turned up with your bible last time. Maybe if God was a woman. Or even if the priests were."

Theo offered a shrug "There's always the nuns."

Jack gave a bark of laughter "Aye, there's always the nuns. Not sure they're of much use to me, though."

Bowing her head just a little so that James couldn't see her face, she made sure Jack still watched her intently, was still content to play their little nonsensical game. He was, judging by how his eyes remained keenly on hers. Before she lifted her face again, she let her eyes drift in the direction of James, hoping Jack would understand what she said next was for his benefit.

"I'm sorry things turned out this way, Jack. Truly, I am. Commodore Norrington's hands are tied. I wish it hadn't played out like this."

"You n' me both," he shrugged "Am I to see you on the big day? A smile from a pretty face before the big send off might just ease the wound. Or the rope burn in this case, I suppose."

"No," she replied "No, I think it's best I stay out of the way of this one."

"Ah. Bit of a cowardly move, if you don't mind my saying so. Squeamish?"

She huffed a laugh "Very. It's alright, though, you'll have Elizabeth to look at. Experience has shown me that men much prefer her."

It seemed this was the final straw for James, who began making his way down the steps.

"Ah, but she's much less inclined to smile at yours truly," Jack replied, unfazed by James' approach.

"Tell a joke on your way down, you never know," she said with a smile.

"It's time to leave," James spoke directly to her once he reached her side, not once so much as sparing a glance towards Jack.

"Commodore! I didn't see you there," Jack greeted cheerfully "I have to say, my estimations of you have gone up as of late. Can't say I'd have ever taken you for a ladies' man, mate, but then again I'm not a lady so I suppose I'm not the best judge. I suppose it's the predictability - offers a sense of safety, and the like. Or the wig - Dora, is it the wig? It can't be the smile, seeing as nobody's ever seen it."

The only indication James gave that he'd heard him at all was the thinning of his lips, his hand raising to press into Theo's back in an effort to shepherd her away.

"Goodbye, Jack," she offered a weary smile.

"'Til next we meet, darlin'," he replied.

He was probably the only person who could get away with saying something like that without alerting James' suspicions. But she'd been successful - he seemed much happier than he had been when she'd first turned up, and no more glares were being directed her way. In fact, she even caught the beginnings of a whistled tune as she finally allowed James to lead the way out of Fort Charles' prison.

The daylight was almost blinding when they stepped out into it, despite how very brief her visit had been. A few of the soldiers stationed around almost appeared tempted to do a double take when they spotted her exiting the cells with James, but the fact that it was James that she was with seemed to stop them from following through with that temptation. Still, she knew he was as aware as she was of the eyes that burned into their backs as they left the fort.

He waved away the coach that waited for them in the street outside, explaining to the driver that they would walk back. This surprised Theo, but she didn't argue. It was a nice day - not too insufferably hot (as most days here were, considering the climate of her home), but just pleasantly warm, with a nice cool breeze and clear skies. No explanation was offered for his decision until they were leaving the central hub of the town, though, and slowly making their way down the quieter streets that led up into the hills towards his home. That gave her just enough time to slowly begin to doubt just how subtle she'd managed to be with Jack, wondering if she was in for a right old bollocking. But she doubted it. Were that the case, he'd have taken the carriage - he'd have wanted to get home more quickly to flip his lid at her in private.

A few times she glanced towards him only to find that a troubled furrow had made itself comfortable in his brow, but there didn't seem to be an edge to it - no bite. It wasn't anger.

"I'll confess myself confused," he said finally "That was what you wished to speak to Sparrow for?"

"You said it yourself, I'm very good at being incoherent," she said, forcing a great deal of lightness into her tone "What did you expect? A dramatic love confession whispered through the bars?"

The grim downward turn of his lips when she next looked suggested that such a possibility hadn't been too low on his list of expectations. Theo sighed heavily, very much not in the mood to discuss her non-existent feelings with Jack Sparrow again - and certainly not when James hardly had a leg to stand on, either.

"Did you mean what you said?" He was tactful enough to change the topic,

"About the joke on the way down? Depends on which one he'd want to tell, I suppose."

"About…" he paused and glanced around, making sure there was nobody around to overhear "About your being second best to Elizabeth."

"Christ," she groaned "It was a joke, James."

"Which happens to be your favourite avenue for speaking the truth," he pointed out stubbornly "Many a true word is spoken in jest, Theodora, and never has that in itself been so true as it is where you're concerned."

Theo sighed heavily "Well it is true, isn't it? Factually speaking."

"No, it is not," came the emphatic response.

"James, it's fine. I'm-"

"Stop," he interrupted "Do not say that you are fine. I wish it were true, but we both know it is not - not for either one of us, so stop saying it. It will not make it so, and it will not fool me."

"I don't have much of a choice, so I have to be fine," she replied impatiently.

James halted suddenly - something she only noticed when she turned to look at him and found him standing a few paces back instead. Looking around, he frowned before catching up to her only so that he might take her hand and begin to pull her towards the forest.

"Are you mad?" She protested as he pulled her into the dense vegetation.

"This is closer than home, we can talk here."

"Because all of my best conversations happen when I also have to watch out for snakes," she grumbled, her skirts and the uneven footing warring against each other to trip her up with every other step.

He said nothing, only kept his hold on her hand as he led the way. Despite her grumbling, and despite her annoyance, she couldn't quite bring herself to break the grip - and not just because she was hoping he might right her before she went face first into the dirt.

After a few minutes of walking she was about to protest once again, but it was then that they emerged into oddly familiar territory. In her confusion and her annoyance, it took her a second to even stop and comprehend where they were. The beach. The small, private beach - the one Hattie had first introduced her to. With not a soul in sight, it was beautifully serene - mockingly so, really, given her dishevelment.

"You…you know about this place?"

He gave her a look of exasperation that was almost tinged with fondness "Of course I know of it, it would be a glaring breach of security should I not. But I recognise that those of a serving class are in far greater need of a place such as this than the likes of some of those whose company we have been so very blessed with at the dinner table, so I endeavoured to keep its existence quiet from those who do not need to know."

Theo's face softened, her annoyance waning. He was so very good. The bastard.

"Now, regarding this…this ridiculous assertion."

It surprised her more greatly than she'd admit that he didn't seem the least bit uncomfortable. Certainly not as uncomfortable as she was, anyway.

"You're telling me that I'm not allowed to say that I'm second choice to Elizabeth?"

"I would never endeavour to tell you what you are and are not allowed to say - primarily because you'd then make every effort to do the direct opposite," he said evenly "But it is not true."

"Are you currently betrothed to Elizabeth?"

"Yes, however-"

"Thank you," she interrupted "Can we go home now?"

"It is not so simple, Theodora."

"James," she sighed heavily "I can't keep having this conversation with you over and over. I can't do it - physically, spiritually, emotionally. I can't. I don't have it in me, it's tired ground, so well worn that our footprints are embedded in it. We'll need ladders to climb out if we wear it down any deeper."

"But it isn't! You have to see that! My hands are tied. Had I any choice in the matter, any at all, I-"

"James, please - please stop. I'm begging you here, please stop it. I can't hear one more speech about…about honour, and etiquette, and the Governor, and Elizabeth's reputation and her social standing. I can't do it, because all I'm hearing is how much more you care about them than you want to be with me. So really, I'm what? Sixth place? Seventh?"

He looked incredibly sad at that, offended too, but she was forging on ahead before he could offer an argument.

"And it's fine - I don't care if you hate the bloody word, it's fine. I'm trying my best to be good and to be understanding and to be accepting of it all, because I knew it when we met, I knew it when I fell for you, and I know it now. It wouldn't be fair for me to expect it to change now, because it's who you are, and I-"

She screeched to a halt - having almost slipped up. There was a big leap from 'I fell for you' and actually saying 'and I love you for it', and she couldn't say it here. Not now. Not after everything. Closing her eyes, she took a shuddering breath in and only continued when she was certain that her voice wouldn't break.

"…and I accept that. I can even respect it, with whatever grace I can muster on any given day. But please, please stop asking me to agree with those priorities, or to bloody well like them when it comes to this in particular, because I can't do it, and it's damn unfair of you to ask it of me."

While her voice had not cracked, she couldn't take much pride in that small fact given that her vision was blurring with tears and the back of her throat strained with the effort of holding back stubborn sobs. Lifting a hand, she wiped furiously beneath her eyes even though none had yet spilled. She didn't look at him, though. If she did, she'd definitely cry.

"Theodora," he said softly.

"I'm…" she couldn't say it - not again.

If the word 'fine' left her lips one more time, she'd definitely cry. Her face was already threatening to crumple as it was. Unable to look at him as she was, she didn't see him reaching towards her until the hand was splayed right in front of her, giving her a chance to back away. She did not, and so it reached up and wrapped gently around her forearm, pulling her closer. Stepping into the embrace that he offered, Theo's eyes closed as he wrapped his arms around her, his chin resting atop her head. Comfort rolled over her in waves as he simply stood there and held her as she fought to steady herself and get a goddamn grip.

It might've taken ten minutes, it might've taken twenty, but he held her through them all and eventually she calmed, her shoulders dropping and her hands ceasing their trembling. But neither of them moved.

When Theo did eventually look up at him, she expected to find him gazing off at the horizon, lost in thought. Maybe growing restless, worried that some errant maid might come across them and blab to the whole island. Instead, he gazed down at her with an intensity that threatened to have her struggling to find her breath all over again. They should back up, she knew they should. Cough out awkward apologies, return to the house, go back to their mutual pining. They were very good at that.

But much like the discussion he'd tried to have, she didn't have it in her to do that, either. Instead, aided by the way he tilted his head down just so, she pressed her lips against his. Later, she would realise that it was a hell of a gamble. He was betrothed, and they were in public. Had he truly still been in love with Elizabeth - or had Elizabeth been in love with him - he would have pushed her away. Gently, perhaps, but still. Instead, though, to her great relief and slight sorrow both, he kept one arm wrapped around her while the other came up to rest a knuckle under her chin so he might tilt her chin up further and kiss her properly in return, melting into it just as much as she had.

And this time, when they finally pulled away, neither of them ran, neither of them denied their feelings, and neither of them made excuses. What a shame it was that it still didn't change anything.