A/N: Still endlessly going on viewings and applying to places while I try to keep a grip on my sanity. Everything's just so competitive with housing at the moment, it's not a good time to be homeless. 'Tis a soul destroying process, friends, I will not lie - but it is what it is, just keeping on and something will work out at some point.

Theo and James spent their first two hours of marital bliss continuing to drift, and their first two days thereafter in the brig of an East India Trading Co. vessel bound for Port Royal. If she'd known how utterly boring and uneventful that would be, she wouldn't have braced herself so when they'd first spotted the ship on the horizon, especially not when James relayed his quiet but intent request that she play the part of the quiet and demure wifey for the time being. She had enough self-awareness not to take offence to the phrasing 'play the part'. In fact, she was rather flattered by it.

They waited, they worried (well, Jack didn't seem to but he never did), and Theo used whatever rum rations she was given to clean Jack's hand. He wasn't in the best shape - but still good enough to murmur a "you'll make your husband jealous, love" when she tended to him, and to laugh when she shot back a "I'll make it up to him on our wedding night". Jack, damn him, was too damn likeable for his own good, and despite everything she felt a twinge of guilt when she spotted the bruise blooming on his face where she'd punched him…and anxiety soon joined it when she saw how red and irritated the skin around the wound on his palm was growing. It wasn't bad enough to have her truly beside herself with panic but, well, it wasn't good.

Food rations were meagre, but they still got them, and other than that they spent most of their time either in silence (even Jack, yet another nonreassuring sign of his state), or napping fitfully after all they'd been through. Theo was no longer troubled by dreams, nor visions - but that might've been down to the fact that she dozed more than truly slept, Mercer's grim-faced presence aboard the ship was more unsettling to her than Jones' had been…and only one of them had had a claw about her neck. So far. Thankfully, other than a matter-of-fact questioning of James, he seemed content enough to leave them to Beckett to deal with.

They docked in Port Royal and were brought immediately before Beckett almost before the ship had even stopped moving, Mercer leading them with a soldier each at their side, clasping tightly at their arms with one hand. Theo ignored the looks they drew, but was thankful that the walk was a short one, keeping her head down. James, she suspected, was troubled by it too but he was far better at refusing to show it, walking at the front of their little gang with his shoulders squared and his chin up, eyes firmly ahead. And Jack? Jack was the worst off, walking with his usual unsteady swagger that didn't seem quite so affected this time round, wincing against the daylight with a thin layer of sweat permanently sheening on his brow.

He caught her worried glance and offered a grin "Regretting saving me, darlin'?"

"You've been unusually quiet today, so not at the minute, no."

"A wedding gift, from me to you," he replied, lowering his voice to murmur "Is this very cheerful man leading us somewhere pleasant?"

He nodded in Mercer's direction as he asked, who walked ahead of James out of earshot. Or so she hoped. But the soldiers around them could still hear.

"To Beckett," she said and then added "I expect."

"Could've just said no."

"It's better than the locker," she said.

"It's better than the locker," he echoed.

Neither of them sounded convinced. After the last year, being led through Beckett's lavishly furnished headquarters felt unsettling - or maybe that was because she knew who waited at the end of the walk. It was too closed in, too cluttered with shite and status symbols. And it only served to emphasise how filthy and dishevelled the three of them were. It was no wonder the soldiers walked firmly at each side of them, for they were probably worried about them brushing up against a wall or a piece of furniture and leaving sand, sweat, and dirt in their wake.

Jack's gait seemed even more unsteady than usual beside her, and it didn't seem quite as affected as she suspected it usually was. When they were finally herded into Beckett's office, he stopped at her side and leaned against her.

"Wriggle your toes," she murmured to him as Mercer greeted Beckett.

"Eh?"

"If you're feeling lightheaded, wriggle your toes. It gets the blood circulating properly."

"M'fine, lass," he said gruffly.

She took his cue to be quiet - it stood to reason that he wouldn't want to look vulnerable around his old friend. But she took a slight side-step towards him all the same, making it look like she was seeking security rather than taking on his wait. If James wanted her to play the meek little wifey around here, then this could only help. It was then, with nothing else to focus on, that she was forced to turn her attention to the man sitting at the desk. Wearing one of those white wigs that seemed no less ridiculous to her for all of the time she'd spent here, Beckett sat in his chair, his eyes taking in the three of them one by one as Mercer spoke.

Theo had expected the sight of him to be somewhat funny. Or, more accurately, she'd feared laughing accidentally when confronted with his short stature. And maybe she would have, had she not been so well acquainted with the man's nature. It was that which prevented her from finding any kind of humour in her current circumstances. Especially when his eyes met hers and he took her in like he was evaluating the worth of an asset.

"We picked up these three adrift. One had this on 'im," Mercer finished his recount, slapping the leatherbound papers down onto the desk.

"I took the liberty of filling in my wife's name," James spoke up like this was little more than an informal chat. "I shall need another for myself."

"Wife?" Beckett enquired, glancing behind James to her "A fairly recent change, I suppose."

James said nothing, and Theo lowered her gaze. It was hard to play the part of the good Mrs Norrington when she was standing there caked in sweat and grime, dressed as a man would in these times, but still, she'd do her best if only to avoid attracting the attention of Mercer. Beckett lifted a hand and beckoned James closer. He snatched his arm away from the soldier holding onto it, and strode towards the desk. Theo remained where she was.

"If you intend to claim these, you must have something to trade. Do you have the compass?" Beckett enquired.

Nodding slowly, James smirked "Better."

Theo braced himself as he dropped the sack cloth onto the desk.

"The heart of Davy Jones."

Beckett leaned forward, regarding it in silence for a few moments, his eyes betraying his interest. But he remembered himself a moment later and pulled his hand back from where it had brushed the cloth, sitting back in his chair once again. Taking in a slow breath, he took his time regarding the three of them speculatively in turn before he spoke.

"You come to me requesting clemency for three people, but with only one bargaining chip. Some might call that bad business."

Stilling, Theo kept her eyes firmly on the floor, but her urge to stay close to Jack wasn't quite an act now. She was painfully aware of how this could end with her on a pyre, and his words brought that fear to life. She should've known he'd pull something like this. James, however, seemed unfazed and took no time at all in replying.

"Forgive me, Lord Beckett, but you are mistaken. I come here requesting clemency for two, with two bargaining chips. I'd say it's all very equal."

Theo's head shot up and she stared at the back of his head, though he didn't turn "My wife and I are cleared of all charges, and you get the heart and the most notorious pirate to sail these seas."

"What?" Theo demanded before she could think better of it.

The look that earned her from James suggested she very much should have thought better of it. While it was enough to have her closing her mouth, she continued to stare at him in disbelief. Behind him, Beckett's lips twisted into a smile. It was a discomfiting, unnatural expression that didn't reach his eyes in the slightest.

Beside her, Jack muttered a gruff "Bugger."

James' expression smoothed over in response, as he turned to regard Jack with a look that was bordering on smug, the corners of his lips twitching into a self-satisfied smile. He'd finally gotten his revenge, after all.

"Very well," Beckett pulled another set of papers from his desk drawer as if he'd been expecting this "Fill them out, Admiral Norrington. Mr Mercer, take Sparrow to the infirmary."

Jack was dragged from her side, and Theo was left feeling uncomfortably exposed when he and the soldiers filed from the room. After a few more moments of keeping her eyes down, no sound but the scratch of the quill James held, Theo finally looked up only to find Beckett watching her. She hesitated. Should she return the stare? Look away? Speak?

"Theodora Byrne, is it? Or Norrington now, I suppose. I don't believe we've had the pleasure."

At his gesture she took a few reluctant steps forward, bowing her head "Lord Beckett."

She had no idea if she was meant to curtsey or not, but if she was he didn't take offence when she did not.

"Irish," he nodded, as though ticking a box in his head "So they were right about that. About the piracy and the witchcraft too, then, I wonder?"

Theo's mouth opened as she tried to think of a way to respond.

"Scurrilous rumours, spread by those with personal distaste towards my wife," James said lowly.

"No doubt aided by her running off with the Black Pearl and selling fortunes in Tortuga not long thereafter," Beckett said softly.

"I had to make a living, m'lord," she said.

That defended the selling fortunes, but not the whole running away thing. What could she say in response to that? She fancied a swim and just happened across the Pearl?

"My lord," Beckett corrected, tilting his head at her condescendingly "As the wife of an admiral, you're no longer part of the lesser classes, Mrs Norrington. You must begin speaking properly."

Ire flashed in her eyes as it bloomed in her chest, and it was willpower alone that stopped her hands from clenching into fists at her side.

"I tricked drunks and brigands into parting with their coin based on lies they already believed, my lord," she said "I had to make do with what I had. A lesson from my lesser class roots."

An amused smirk pulled at Beckett's lips. It made his face even more punchable.

"Happily, Theodora is a resourceful woman," James said.

"I suppose it's especially happy now that said resourceful nature is in no danger of having her burned or hanged," Beckett murmured.

He allowed a few seconds of silence to linger there, before he continued as though this whole thing had been little more than a casual catch-up "Your house has stood empty for quite some time, Admiral Norrington, so there would be no difficulties should you wish to return to it. I'll have a maid sent along to help you settle in until you're able to find one of your own."

To keep an eye on them, more like. But Theo was just happy to be dismissed, hanging back until James stepped forward to join her, and then following him from the room. When they left him, Beckett was staring at the heart where it still sat in its bag.

"Jesus Christ, James," Theodora hissed the moment the carriage they'd been lended by Beckett was moving through town.

James was glad that they would not have to walk back to their new-and-former home. They'd attracted enough attention during the walk from the docks to Beckett's office, a procession through town centre was not something he was particularly in the mood for.

"I had to do as my conscience dictated," James said lowly "And if I'd told you, you might've attempted to talk me out of it. Surely you won't hold it against me."

Guilt did pang within his chest at using her own words against her so soon after she'd spoken them - but he had to do it. He had to make sure that if the shoe were on the other foot, she would endeavour to be as understanding towards his actions as he was towards hers.

"No," she answered - to his surprise - in spite of the agitation riddled throughout her expression "No, I won't. I'm not a hypocrite. We need to talk about this, but I'm not going to hold a grudge against you over it."

"Good," he said "If the choice was between our safety and that of Sparrow's, the choice is not a choice at all. I suspected it would come to this, it's the only thing that got me through his bloody singing in that dinghy."

The thought that his chance for retribution was not lost was also the only thing that quelled the ire she'd kept searching his face for when they'd been adrift, too. Although how nervously she'd done so certainly helped him keep a handle on it, too.

"James, for the love of god, call it what it was. Revenge. I said I wouldn't hold it against you and I won't, but don't paint it as something it wasn't. You had your chance to fuck Jack over the way he did us, and you took it. That's what that was. It wasn't negotiation, you had the heart of Jones. You didn't have to give Jack up - you could've demanded that Beckett do a bloody tap dance for you and he'd've had to do it! He wasn't truly negotiating, he was needling. He was seeing what you'd say."

"Forgive me, my dear wife, but when did you become so well versed in the art of what goes on here? The complexities behind every conversation? During your time in Tortuga? An odd place for such an education, I should think."

That earned him a vexed look, but he wouldn't be cowed. If it took stern words to get his point across to her, which would in turn make her listen and accept that he knew how to navigate these particular matters better than she, which would all ultimately lead to her survival, it would be a small price to pay. He continued to speak in low, intent tones, not only so he was confident he wouldn't be heard by the driver over the noise of the carriage and the town, but also to emphasise how serious he was as he spoke.

"It wasn't needling, Theodora. Men like Beckett do not needle needlessly. It was a test. By handing over Sparrow, I suggested that everything I did - and by extension everything that you did, as you are now my wife and an extension of myself-"

"Oh Jesus."

"-in the eyes of those here - while on Sparrow's crew over the passing days was with the aim of furthering the aims of Beckett and the side of the law. Had I acted in any way other than how I did, my loyalty would have been called into question. We cannot afford that at so early a stage. Not if we're going to do as we must for Governor Swann. We can hardly afford it at all."

She'd done as she desired - changed what it was she believed she had to change. Sparrow was alive and relatively well. And he even saw why she'd refused to discuss it with him beforehand, for he would have tried to talk her out of it. He didn't necessarily agree with it, not only because of his hatred of Sparrow but because surely if he was destined to die, he must be left to die? However, he could see why Theodora's morals may prevent her from allowing it, especially given their rapport, and it was done now anyhow. But he was not blind to the upside that they now stared in the face. Once Governor Swann was saved, the last of her duties were finally over and they could instead focus on simply getting through this mess as best they could, through to the other side, and then they might live - truly live together, rather than focusing on surviving. Christ, they'd barely had a chance to even stop and take in the fact that they were now married…despite the ungentlemanly frequency with which his mind liked to idly stray towards the implications of that.

James watched Theodora intently as she soaked in the words - and to her credit, listened to them properly, nodding slowly as she stared ahead and considered them. Then, finally, she looked back to him, brow furrowed sorrowfully.

"I'm sorry," she sighed "I am, James. I'm not annoyed at you, I'm just…it's all stressful. If Jack dies anyway…"

The thought visibly disturbed her, her eyes darkening and worry pulling at her features - the change was stark enough to have James comforting her on the matter. Had he discounted her friendship with the man? Or would such an outcome truly have such far-reaching effects? He supposed if he died here rather than at sea, he mightn't end up in the locker and therefore be truly gone for good.

"Sparrow would not die so easily. Unfortunately."

Her only response was a small, troubled nod, and he continued.

"But you must trust me when I say I know what I'm doing, Theodora."

"I do," she said, and he took comfort in that for she rarely said things that she did not mean "I'm just used to being the one with all of the answers. For most of my time here, it's all fallen on me. It's a lot."

It was a notion that couldn't help but fill him with sympathy. Not least because of how long he'd remained unaware of that fact, while they'd lived in the same house no less, going about his life and slowly falling for the woman by his side now, all without any clue as to the turmoil raging within her mind.

He nodded slowly and then sighed "Well, no longer. We're married now - perhaps we might finally work as a team?"

Theodora nodded in turn, her eyes trailing down towards his hand when it took hers, her cheeks flushing ever so faintly pink. He wasn't sure he'd ever get used to his ability to make her blush, for this time last year he'd have likely deemed such a power an impossibility.

"I'd like that," she said quietly.

James cast a glance out of the window. They would be home soon. Very soon.

"I won't pretend that it didn't feel good," he added finally "After all, it's no less than what he did to you with Jones."

"Under different circumstances, I might've appreciated it," she sighed, squeezing his hand "Beckett sent him to the infirmary. Not the brig."

"He did."

"Which means he wants him well again."

"It's highly likely."

"For a big public spectacle of a hanging, or to use as a pawn?"

"Likely the latter and then the former, depending on how nicely Sparrow plays along with his games."

Theodora snorted. James didn't blame her.

"We have time, then," she said simply.

Yes. They did. They had time for everything. What a thought that was. They'd scarcely had a moment alone since Tortuga, which felt like it had been years ago rather than barely a week prior. James kept his eyes on Theodora - on his wife, a word which he still barely believed even within his own mind - as she turned her head to look out at the scenery as it passed, the afternoon sun lighting up her hair until it glowed like the embers of a fire. Hopefully there would soon come a day in the future where he, safe and content, looked back on this one and laughed with her about how far away and long ago all of this danger seemed. That was something worth fighting for indeed.

A/N: Soo…James has made the rather large, rather incorrect assumption that Theo's big mystery goal was saving Jack. What could possibly go wrong with that one? Buuuut, the next chapter heralds the first time they've been properly alone since being married, so uh…what could possibly go right? B)

There'll be some callbacks to the actual ceremony in the next chapter, I don't just plan on leaving it entirely unwritten. Also I cannot stop listening to Something Just Like This by The Chainsmokers because it reminds me of these two dorks, so I had to share that.