"You need to go and bloody well find 'im."

Theo didn't look up at Ada.

"Who?"

"You know who."

"What, Voldemort?"

"Who's Voldemort?"

"Nevermind."

Reaching forward impatiently, Ada tugged the bag of runes from her hand "Your Commodore. Go to him."

"You know, Ada, when we first met I'd have never guessed you were such a romantic."

She hadn't even remembered her at all upon their second meeting - when she'd come to Tortuga on her own. But met they had, after Theo had first divested that sailor of his effects. Ada was the woman who'd demanded the contents of the man's coinpurse in exchange for her silence, and she'd been keen to continue their business relationship upon Theo's return. A shrewd entrepreneur with a stake in the fortunes of this particular tavern, she'd given her a decent enough deal. A third of Theo's earnings went to Ada, and that bought her a room that was far nicer than the same amount of coin would've bought her elsewhere, so long as she told fortunes that would entice the men to celebrate by emptying what remained of their coffers with drink and ladies of the night.

"I'm not a romantic, I'm a pragmatist," Ada rolled her dark eyes "Sooner you track 'im down, the sooner you stop making eyes at the door all night like you want to fuck it."

"The carvings on it are very fine," she replied drily.

"Dora."

Theo rolled her eyes "It's best if I stay in one place. If we're both roaming the island lookin' for each other, we'll just be more difficult to find. I'm easier to find this way."

"That assumes he's looking."

"If he's not, it does me no good to find him."

"By Christ, I never took you for pathetic."

"Should we discuss your love life?"

"I have no desire for one."

"And I have no desire to talk about mine."

"He must be handsome if he's got you this tied up. Can't say I'd have ever guessed it'd be one of them you'd set your heart on. I look forward to meeting him."

"You might not."

Word of James' arrival in Tortuga had been around long enough for that word to fade entirely. The novelty was gone. For the first week or two, she'd spent her every waking hour staring at the door, constantly certain that James would be the next person to walk through it. Perhaps he'd be angry, perhaps he'd despise her, but he would be there. But he never was. Surely he knew that she was here, too - surely he knew. After all, she was hardly deaf to the whisperings about herself that flitted around the island. She'd had quite a hand herself in spreading them, knowing it would be the only way that she might obtain Jones' hundred souls.

Even if James hadn't put the pieces together, hadn't realised that she was the one they all referred to as Jack Sparrow's witch (a nickname with just as many syllables as her actual name, but who was she to argue with it?), surely he'd seek her out all the same in hopes of finding Jack and therefore his revenge? The only conclusion that she could come to was the one she dreaded the most. That he did not want to find her. That he knew full well who she was, and that he had very little interest in reuniting with her.

There were plenty of very justifiable reasons as to why he might not want to, after all. She'd left. Again. While she felt she had her reasons, some of them even very good, there were no pretenses in her mind as to how dim a view James would take of that. He'd lost everything in pursuit of the Pearl, too - and now that he knew of her inklings, maybe he thought she'd known it would happen. He wasn't exactly wrong on that score. Hell, maybe he believed her newest nickname. Maybe he thought her a witch. The fact that she was making a living in Tortuga selling fortunes hardly would've hardly encouraged him to leave such notions behind. Or maybe, given everything, he'd now deemed her more trouble than she was worth. It was another verdict she wouldn't have been able to argue with too much.

"So if he doesn't find ya, you're not gonna look for him?" Ada arched a dark eyebrow.

"If he doesn't find me, he doesn't want to see me. Seeking him out would be the opposite of helpful."

"And hiding? That's helpful, is it?"

"I'm not hiding."

Ada scoffed "Y'know, we all know Cap'n Jack to be a strange sort, but he's never been known to take on cowards."

"I'm not a coward, I'm a pragmatist," Theo said "Why do you care so much, anyway?"

"I have a hole hidden away in your bedroom wall - I intend to charge punters so they can spy on you and the good Commodore Norrington through it."

"I'll think of some incredibly inventive positions, then. Make sure they get their money's worth."

"Please do," Ada glanced around, noticing at the same time that Theo did that customers were glancing over and milling about, working up the nerve to step up and ask for a reading "And stop staring at the bloody door."

Theo tore her eyes away from it, not even having noticed that they'd trailed back towards it of their own accord. As Ada retreated, she made eye contact with a tall blond sailor who eyed her shyly despite his stature.

"Mr Paralis, is it?" She greeted him sunnily "The runes told me of your coming, sir."

And Ada had put it in his mind the previous night to come to her. But he wouldn't remember that. She was a dab hand at knowing when somebody was just drunk enough to be suggestible without being too drunk to understand at all, that one.

She managed to drag herself through three or four more 'readings' afterwards before she found herself in dire need of air that didn't feel like it had already been breathed ten times over. Standing, she stepped away from her table, offered a nod to Ada, and then made for the door. She left her coat behind, still sorely missing the cold Irish winter - and summer, really, compared to the new normal she'd found in these tropical climates. Christ, she'd give her left foot to be able to go to sleep bundled beneath the covers rather than sprawled across them and sweating miserably in little more than a linen shirt.

But more than that petty grievance was on her mind, for it was a momentous night - her twenty-fifth birthday. All the more momentous, really, now that it also marked the one year anniversary of her arrival here. The one year anniversary of her meeting James. It was a day loaded with meaning, indeed, and it had the more fanciful part of her wondering whether it meant that this was the day they were destined to be reunited. Even before the thought had first finished crossing her mind, she'd wanted to laugh at it - and at herself for dreaming it up - but there are always some nagging voice that insisted that she'd have ones pissed her pants at the prospect of waking up in a world that did not, or at least should not exist, too.

Finally, she resolved not to expect anything, but not to be surprised if it happened either. It was a nice thought, if nothing else…albeit one that became slightly less nice when she considered all that had changed since they'd last seen one another. For all she knew, he'd taken her parting gift as a tickle on the chin that preceded a slap to the face. It was how she probably would've taken such a gesture, had she been disinclined to be understanding. It would be even worse, too, if he learned the truth. Or was it when he learned the truth? There were no reasons not to tell him anymore. Okay, no practical reasons. None of the old ones.

He could no longer have her burned as a witch, toss her out into the street, or generally reduce her life to tattered, smoldering ruins if he didn't take the news well. It surprised nobody more than her that something about that change made her sad. Not because his change in circumstance impacted her opinion of him, but because of how much she knew he would be struggling with it. Even without her special knowledge, she'd still know that. Anybody who had met him once would know it.

The heaviness in her chest doubled whenever she considered the prospect of finally telling him the truth, though. Just because there were no practical obstacles in place anymore didn't mean that it was a good idea…just as it not necessarily being a good idea didn't mean that she didn't feel like she still had to do it. Whatever future lay between them - romance, as impossible as that still seemed, friendship, hatred, or indifference (which seemed just as impossible as romance) she knew it had to be with James knowing the truth of who she was. Pragmatism shrieked that he did not need to know, but she couldn't listen to it. It was difficult to envisage a future where Will Turner knew more of who she truly was than James did. No, she would have to tell him. God help them both.

James was on her mind - as usual - that much was obvious. In terms of her stupid newfound romanticism, in terms of her worries, in terms of her plans from the future. Whatever her ruling mindset, her thoughts were dragged back to him. Perhaps that was why she was an utter bloody idiot when she heard footsteps behind her and she didn't jump straight into defense mode. Oh, she was aware, and she slowed slightly, but her first prevailing thought was that he had found her - that he simply hadn't wanted to be reunited in the chaotic tavern and had been waiting to catch her in a more quiet setting.

When she finally drew to a sudden halt and spun around, she realised her logic had been sound - but it was not James who was hoping to catch her quietly. The man was tall, and incredibly clean and well-groomed - something that stuck out in Tortuga like a sore thumb, his face clean shaven, red hair bound neatly into a ponytail at the nape of his neck and his clothing without even a fleck of mud on them. His eyes were fixed on her intently in the sparse lighting that the few lanterns in the street offered, the moon blotted out by black clouds. Theo's heart dropped, and her hand flew to her blade - her knife, not her sword, already well aware that there was no room to swing a sword in a cramped side-street such as this.

Barely a second passed between her blade being pulled from her belt and the man being on her. He had no knife of his own, coming at her with his bare hands. There was a sword at his waist - one that was fine, if not plain - so the fact that he didn't draw it gave credence to a thought that was reassuring and worrying all in one. He wanted her alive. Not a mugger, he would've drawn his weapon and demanded money from the get-go. A rapist? No. His hands grappled with her, but not at her clothing - not at her chest, nor at her crotch. There was nothing suggestive about his movements, just a startling sort of proficiency as he wrestled with her so that her back was to him, before he began trying to weave his arm around her neck. Free hand shooting up, Theo kept it between her neck and the man's arm, stopping him from managing to get a proper chokehold on her - keep your hand at the level of your eye. It was, for once, advice that had come from The Phantom of the Opera rather than her father.

Raising her knife, Theo drove the blade towards his hand without thinking - narrowly avoiding stabbing her own shoulder as it struck his flesh, and struck deep. He let out a howl, but didn't drop the arm. If anything, he fought all the more furiously. Fuck. Her blind stab had not been particularly clean, and she'd sliced before she'd managed to properly stab. The result was a steady stream of blood pouring from his hand, down her shoulder, as well as over the grip of her knife. It didn't lend itself to helping her pull it back out easily. On the bright side, her attempts to wrench it free had him howling in pain.

But his arm was coming dangerously close to getting a good hold around her neck, her fight only spurring him on, and he seemed to think victory was within his grasp. The hand of his free arm came up to circle the wrist of the one by her throat to aid his grip. Abandoning her attempts to free the knife entirely, Theo let her grip fall to his arm instead, and then she heaved forwards, pulling him forward and off of his feet until he was forced to flip across her shoulder, taking him down to the ground. He wasn't expecting that level of fight from her, not judging by the shout of surprise and how entirely unprepared he seemed for any sort of resistance beyond a basic knife, and he went down into the sand surprisingly easily. Unfortunately, though, either his surprise had him holding fast or he was incredibly quick-thinking, holding fast onto her and forcing her to roll before she landed down into the mud with him.

Theo braced for the fall, and made sure to fall hard, all elbows and shoulders as she drove her weight into his ribs. At the last moment, she drove her head backwards into his face for good measure. That was when he did let go, winded by the impact and - by the sounds of his wet spluttering - at risk of choking on the blood that burst forth from his nose.. His fist unfurled, and that was what finally allowed her blade to slip free, no longer wedged in by his own grip. It fell into the dirt beside them, still wet with blood, and Theo grabbed it immediately, rolling to her feet despite the fact that they felt woefully unsteady beneath her, chest heaving.

She'd managed to take perhaps two stumbling steps backwards when he was on his feet too, looking similarly dishevelled with his face coated in blood that appeared black in the dark of night. He spat some of it into the mud, his stance low and his weight on the balls of his feet. It appeared he was no longer operating under the pretense that she could not fight. Theo's jaw set, and her grip on the knife tightened. Rather than wait for him to come at her on his own terms, she feinted right and then, throwing the knife to her left hand (a trick taught to her by dear old Will), she ducked left instead. It worked. In his effort to jump out of her way, he failed to realise the ruse - whether because of the state of his face, or the shock that a woman could fight at all - and barrelled straight into her knife, where it wedged neatly just below his ribs. The fight was over as abruptly as it had started.

A/N: Any theories as to what's going on here? Apologies for the shortness of these last couple of chapters - this isn't the new way of things, the housing situation is stressing me out badly at the moment with the holiday distraction being over, so I'm just doing what I can when I can! They'll get longer again soon.