A/N: I'm going to take a wee break from this fic now just to completely plan out this next and final part of the trilogy. I already know more or less what's going to happen, but I need time to go through it all with a fine tooth comb and make sure it's all perfect, because I'm so proud of it so far that I don't want to fuck things up in the final leg. Thank you for your persistent loveliness, and your patience! This chapter is mostly Theo/James centric (again, lol), but I promise as of the next one we widen our scope a little. It was meant to happen in this chapter, really, but the length was already getting on a bit and the pacing didn't feel right.

When Hattie's new employers caught wind of her intention to leave them in order to work for Port Royal's resident Elphaba, they released her without requiring her to work out her notice at all. Theo might've felt more guilty about that had Hattie not seemed so thrilled by it. And the girl's presence had more benefits than having another ally around, and no longer having her hair be a mess. With Beckett hopefully content that they were now well under the thumb, she and James were finally free to start the sparring lessons she'd promised him long ago.

They made use of the secluded beach for it - the windows in the sitting room leaving them too exposed to anybody passing by to be of much good, and even if there was room in the bedroom, they'd probably give Hattie a heart attack if she overheard. James was a quick study, and he was an exceedingly good sport whenever she managed to knock him on his arse - which was more often than even Theo had expected, but she supposed her years of practise in this particular area helped. He caught on fairly quickly, though, and soon there were only a few moves he still struggled to counteract…and she secretly delighted in how often she managed to sweep his legs from under him or use his own bodyweight to throw him off balance and send him tumbling into the sand.

She might've delighted in it a little bit more secretly had he not been so smug every time he'd bested her in their swordsmanship practise back in Tortuga. Apparently they were an arrogant fuck of a couple. Theo liked to think it made them cute. By the time their practise was drawing to a close for the day she was thoroughly out of breath, ending with a "questions" portion that was really mostly his asking her how to get out of various binds.

"And if the opponent comes at you from behind?" He asked, similarly out of breath as he did just that, his back against her and his hand at her throat.

Theo paused as though in thought. Often her responses really did require some thought, because how she would respond usually had to factor in her own height, weight, and strength - factors that all differed in his case. This time, though, she was up to no good. Turning her head so that her face was mere inches from his, she peered up at him.

"Like this?" she asked in fake consideration.

"Like this," he reiterated, eyes narrowing in oddly fond suspicion.

Rather than looking away, she let her eyes flicker down towards his lips for a second - just a second - and hoped it planted a seed. Judging by the way he smirked, it had. All it took after that was a tilt of her jaw upwards and he was ducking his head to kiss her. It was clear he suspected a trick, though, because he was damn clever and his grip didn't loosen. At least, not until she relaxed back into him and sighed into the kiss. Then his hand did slacken, just slightly, and she gripped his wrist, bent at the waist, and yanked him forward, tucking her hip into his pelvis to roll him off balance.

James landed in the sand with a grunt, and then regarded her with a thoroughly unamused look.

"Like that," Theo said smugly.

He was dressed as he always tended to be for these sparring matches - abandoning his coat, hat, and wig the moment they cleared the trees. Theo was not quite so lucky and had to handle it in her shift. Dressing as a man would pose too many questions if they were caught on their journey there or back. Seeing him dressed like this - so casual and slightly dishevelled - always reminded her of the little life they'd hewn for themselves in Tortuga. It was a welcome memory.

"I knew you would do it," he snorted, but made no move to stand.

"And yet you didn't stop me," she pointed out.

"Yes," he sniffed "Well. That is one of the many privileges you earn in being my wife - knowing you can easily turn me into the veriest sap with alarmingly little effort."

"It's a power I'll wield with the utmost respect," she teased, lowering herself into the sand beside him "And that power is a mutual one, by the way."

"Good," he smirked "In any case, I struggle to believe that a tactic such as that one would serve me well in battle."

"Have you ever tried it?" she teased.

"No. And I pray you haven't, either."

"All I'm saying is that I can't promise not to blush when I encounter Jones next."

That, he did not laugh at "I should hope that you do not encounter him again."

"Yeah, well," she grimaced "That's a hope we share."

"Although…" any hint of joking was dropped from his voice now "It does bring me to something I must tell you."

Oh, Jesus. Theo kept that comment to herself, though, sensing very quickly that it wasn't the time for it.

"Lord Beckett has informed me that he plans to make contact with Jones in the coming days - to set out terms, order the destruction of his beast, and such."

That revelation, although not exactly unexpected, sent a shudder down Theo's spine. Not unlike the one she'd felt when they'd spotted the Pearl docked in Tortuga, this one felt worse although it signalled a similar thing - the end of their little respite was on the horizon. Although last time she'd been able to take comfort in the fact that there was still some way to go before they reached the events she truly dreaded. Now? Now she could find little comfort at all.

When she glanced back to James, she found him watching her with his brow furrowed in concern. That, along with the chill in her cheeks, was all the confirmation she needed that she'd paled.

"He wishes for…" he sighed and then restarted "He has ordered that I accompany him - in an official capacity, as Admiral."

"Well," she breathed, voice shakier than she'd like "I didn't think he'd invited you along as an informal buddy."

"It is an excursion. A brief one."

"How long?" she asked quietly.

"That largely depends on how amenable Jones is to being found," he replied "...We leave the day after tomorrow. I was only informed this morning."

"Oh…"

Closing her eyes, she exhaled quietly. The party Governor Swann was throwing to celebrate their marriage would be that night - which only really gave them tomorrow to enjoy before he would be gone.

"Were there any part of being a soldier's wife that I might shield you from, it would be this."

"Another separation," she murmured quietly "I know I don't have much room to complain, give that the last two were my own stupid fault, but…"

"It cannot be helped."

"I'm not complaining," she said "And I'm not blaming you."

"Two qualities I would have once considered a blessing in a wife."

"But not now?" she snorted "What, you want me to whine and blame you, then?"

"I want you to tell me what's on your mind," he said "Sometimes I suspect you forget that you're able to do so now."

If only. But still, he had a point - even if only to an extent.

"I…" she began and then trailed off, voice failing her.

His hand found hers in the sand, squeezing in encouragement.

"I'm scared," she finally admitted.

It wasn't an admission that came easily to her - ever. The sweat was already cooling on her, aided by the breeze that swept around them and eased the effects of the hot sunny day, but rather than refreshing her, it had her shuddering.

"Is the meeting set to go badly?" he asked carefully.

"No," she replied "In fact, it goes so without incident that it all happens off-stage. It's only referenced by Beckett later, well after the fact. Jack's not going, is he?"

"Sparrow isn't up to it. He's through the worst of the fever that set in after what he did to his hand, but whether he's up for a move to the prison is still up for debate. Sailing is out of the question. No doubt Beckett wishes to keep his survival to himself for the time being until revealing it to Jones would be of greater benefit."

"It should all go fine, then. Or at least as it should, anyway."

"In which case, what is it that you fear?" he asked gently.

"These days? Every damn thing. Constantly. I wake up and the dread hits me like a bus - like, like a tidal wave, and the rest of the day is a series of ploys and tactics to either combat it, or distract myself from it entirely, with varying degrees of success. But it's always there, and when it takes over I can feel it - physically feel it, like I'm going to collapse or vomit or burst into tears or all three or…" her sentences were beginning to run into each other and she paused to catch her breath and pull herself together "And I know that once we're on the other side of this, it'll all have been worth it. That that is what lies on the other side of all of it. I tell myself that daily - hourly, even, but to get to that, we need to get through all of the bullshit first, and I'm terrified that we won't."

Since arriving here, the prospect of not being able to save him…the prospect of him dying had gone from being something that gnawed at her, to something that plagued her enough to push her into changing it, to what it was now. Something that she knew would destroy her, should it come to pass. Even if she survived what was still to come, if James did not, she knew she would never recover. All this time she'd sat and told herself that when the time came, she would handle it. That she'd do something miraculous and clever, and all would be well. But that time was soon approaching, and she'd never felt fear like the sort that threatened to overtake her now. It was becoming less of a hypothetical situation, and morphing into something that was all too real - something that breathed down her neck more and more with every passing day. Every passing hour. This expedition was only the beginning of it.

"We will," James said sternly "Hear me when I say that, Theodora."

But how could he know? He had no idea that he was fated not to. He listened to her worries and heard fear - paranoia, maybe. She wouldn't call it hysteria, because she knew he thought more of her than that. But he had no idea of what they faced. Several times she'd considered telling him. Every now and then she even did so while framing it as the right thing to do. The good thing. However, it had the taste of a thing that would ease her burden for five seconds while increasing his tenfold - and then hers in turn. If he thought for even a moment that her saving him might put her in danger, he'd do everything in his power to make sure her hands were tied, even if that meant his dying in the end after all. And that much she could not abide. She was fighting enough here without fighting him, too.

It was shit of her not to tell him. She knew that. If he knew that destiny dictated that she should die tomorrow and he didn't breathe a word of it to her, she'd have a few choice things to say on it. Well, if doing so wouldn't make her a raging hypocrite. But she also knew that the one reason for his not telling her that she might understand - that she could forgive - would be if he thought his not telling her could help him save her.

Afterwards, she would tell him everything. Once she'd succeeded. And then she'd weather his anger and his distrust and whatever else he felt about her betrayal. Until then, she'd bear it alone, and take comfort in the fact that she wasn't dooming him to have this on his mind the same way it was on her own, praying that every kiss, every look, every touch, would have countless more to follow and that their marriage would not be ended less than half a year before it began. That she wouldn't be doomed to live without him for the rest of her life after having this whirlwind of a year and a half turn that into the worst prospect possible. And that was if she lived at all. But somehow the prospect of finding her own death scared her less. Wasn't that what love was? Demanding to be the one to go first?

Her emotions - all of her emotions, matching all of the terrible thoughts warring within her mind - were showing plainly on her face, but she didn't realise to what extent until he was pulling her against him and pressing his lips to the top of her head, visibly troubled by what he saw in her eyes. Or maybe by the tremor in her hands.

"Look at what we have survived thus far," he all but ordered, speaking quietly but intently "What more lies ahead that we cannot face? We will endure this - we will survive this. And then we will have our 'honey moon', along with our life that we build together, our happiness, and whatever else we damn well please. No Beckett, no Jones, no Barbossa, no Sparrow. No separations."

Until his next posting. Until he got a new superior in the wake of Beckett's demise and ended up chasing pirates across the seas once again, facing danger and death on the daily - but this time danger and death that she had no hope of diverting. She didn't voice that thought, either. The news was making her panic, and the panic was making her spiral. Theo knew who he was when she married him. She'd signed up for this. All of it. She only hoped that at some point the dread might fade.

When Theo had once, a long time ago, joked about feeling like she was going to one of these soirees dressed as the British flag, she hadn't expected that little joke to foretell the future. And yet, as she stood in her bedroom with Hattie putting the finishing touches on her hair, she was beginning to wonder if she hadn't predicted the future after all. Or maybe the witch rumours were just really getting to her.

The outfit was a meticulously thought out one. She had a lot to prove tonight, especially for one who was so used to insisting that she had fuck all to prove to anybody. Port Royal had to see that not only was she a loyal subject of the Crown (something which already had her wanting to vomit), but that she was a good and demure little wifey (again, vomit-inducing), and worthy of being wed to their beloved Admiral Norrington (okay, not quite so nauseating). So…the dress made sense. It was one of navy blue, embellished here and there with gold thread in the same way the Naval uniforms tended to be, with delicate white lace trimming the cuffs of the sleeves and the hemline. Not content to let her hair represent the red, they'd strung a ruby around her neck just to really drive the point home.

As much as garments could do so, this one really made a statement. Or so she hoped. And while these kinds of dresses took a bit more getting used to the ones she wore during the day, she felt beautiful - which made her feel confident, which made her feel like she had a fighting chance tonight. And that was worth its weight in gold.

"Are you well, Mistress Theo?"

They'd finally settled on what Hattie might call her - a compromise, because Theo refused to be 'ma'am' in her own home, and Hattie refused to just call her by her name. That was something which James agreed with, when he overheard their bickering, so Theo was horrible outnumbered on this score and had to defer to the preference of the time.

"Hm? What? Oh - yeah. Yes. Sorry. I was miles away," she waved a hand as she stepped into her shoes - daft silk slippers that nobody could ever hope to run in.

While sharing her fear with James had helped ease it if only slightly - because the cliches about problems shared being problems halved had at least some truth in them - she now felt guilt for sharing it. It wasn't what he needed weighing upon him when he went off to rendezvous with Jones under Beckett's slimy gaze.

"They will snipe and they will be nasty, but only because that's all they can do. And you've not done much that the Admiral himself hasn't, and they shan't hold that against him."

"The Admiral didn't flee the scene of Captain Jack Sparrow's execution and run off with the Pearl."

"Yes. Well. That's why I said 'much' rather than 'anything'."

Theo breathed a laugh. She had a point there.

"I'm not good at this sort of thing - and now I'm attending as Admiral Norrington's wife. If I embarrass myself, I'll embarrass him."

"So it's a good thing you'll do neither."

"I'm already a pirate and a grubby little servant stealer."

"Precisely," Hattie said evenly "So, you have the knowledge to match as far as the latter goes. if Mrs Spencer makes a comment, you must casually remark on how surprised you were to find her husband tucked away in some secluded corner of the docks with her sister."

"And when I'm asked why I was in that secluded corner of the docks?" She asked.

"You were looking for seaweed - for your potions."

Theo gave a very unattractive laugh at that, shaking her head "I've missed you."

Hattie smiled. Handing her the fan set aside for the evening, the maid set about tidying up the combs and hairbrushes set out on their newly acquired vanity, and Theo took that as her dismissal. Stepping out into the hallway, she found James already waiting at the top of the stairs, decked out in his full military regalia.

"I'm hoping to save you from a terrible stair-related accident," he explained drily.

Laughing, Theo smiled fondly and shook her head "This is a blast from the past, isn't it?"

"I'm unsure as to your meaning, but I'm content to believe you're correct."

"Oh, our marriage will be a dream if you stick with that attitude going forward," she hummed contentedly.

"If there's one thing we both should have long learned by now, it's that we're both much too stubborn for that," he snorted.

"True. But that's half the fun."

"You've a strange idea of fun."

"Do you disagree?"

"...No, although I should not admit it," he admitted with a quiet laugh "You look beautiful."

"Thank you," she bowed her head - and felt like the hair piled atop it would topple her over as she did so "You look painfully handsome, too. I don't blame the other women for resenting me."

She might've teased him for blushing under her compliments after all that had passed between them were it not for the fact that she did the same whenever he complimented her - so, instead, she just found it silently adorable and let it go uncommented on, accepting his hand and allowing him to lead her carefully down the stairs.

"I must ask that you avoid Lord Beckett tonight," he opted to steer the topic away from his devastating good looks towards one Theo enjoyed much less "Particularly if I am not present."

"If there was ever a request I'd be thrilled to hear from you, it'd be this one," she replied "But if Beckett wants to get me alone, he'll find a way."

"And under such circumstances, you must hold your temper. I know how the man goads you, Theodora, but you must not let him win by rising to it."

Considering how he'd succeeded in making her bristle within ten minutes of her stepping foot in his office, she could see why James felt the need to make this request. She wasn't doing much for the stereotype regarding redheads and their tempers.

"All right," she said as they cleared the stairs and made straight for the front door "Fine. But I want it on the record that I hate these bloody things."

"I will see that it is recorded thus," he snorted "And my agreement with it. But this one has one advantage over the others."

"Oh?"

"That it finds us facing it as a team. A true united front. As we will be with everything else to follow."

So her fear on the beach had not been forgotten - even if he worked to reassure her so subtly as to not embarrass her by bringing it up properly. Theo had no clever comments to make in response to that. She was too busy hoping he was right.

A/N: Oof. Okay. So. Unfortunate housing update before I go, because that's also partially why I'm taking a break. It's not going well, friends. For a very brief moment it looked like I had a place, but now it's not looking so good anymore. I'm already outstaying my welcome at my friend's place (she's being lovely about it, but we both accept that I can't stay much longer - we're coming up on my seventh month of my being homeless, we both thought I'd have a place well before now) meaning if nothing miraculous happens in the next couple of months, I'm going to need to uproot, move cities entirely (and countries, even if that country is another one within the UK), and go to stay with family because I'll literally have no other option.

In addition to this not being great because it means leaving everything behind…my family aren't great people. I love them, but they're not. It'll be a very toxic situation, and they're not healthy for me to be around, save only for my brother. There's a reason I haven't gone there yet, but I might not have a choice soon, and that's not so great on my mental health to be honest.

So…we'll see. Fingers crossed for a big ol' miracle in the coming months.

Anyway, that very dour note aside, while I'm on this little break you can find me on my other fics, or here:

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