A/N: Slight update relating to my original novel at the end! Also, I have a friend who has never seen the POTC movies so when I had to show her Norrington just so she could understand who I routinely lose my mind over these days, she dead ass responded without pause "the powdered wig screams sex object". Now that's all that goes through my mind when I write this story. She's not wrong.

Tia Dalma surfaces in this chapter, because it's high time we got a glimpse of what the others are up to, and I'm following the precedent I've set so far of not typing out the accents of the characters - because it could get very terrible, very quickly. I'm trying to find a happy medium between writing how she talks, without having it venture into Groundskeeper Willie territory.

The journey to Singapore was a tedious one, if not a particularly arduous one. Given all that those aboard had been through, there were few in their number who were not thankful for plain sailing punctuated only by a handful of near-misses with the East India Trading Company to keep them on their guard. What was rather more difficult to contend with were the rumours. There were two that were furiously spreading through every port they stopped in, and they couldn't have been more different. That Jack was dead - and that he was not.

"Two people insisted to me in the last port that Jack's alive - that Beckett has him prisoner in Port Royal," Elizabeth murmured to Will as they stood side-by-side, leaning against the ship's rail.

"And four spoke of his death to me," Will countered simply "If Beckett had him, it wouldn't be mere rumour. He'd ensure every waking soul on these seas knew."

"I'm only saying-"

"I know what you're saying," Will said, and then sighed as he seemed to regret his own impatience "And I understand it. But he's dead, Elizabeth. We saw it. We left him behind. There was no surviving that. And all four of us are to blame for it."

"Four?"

"You and I, Jack himself, and Theodora."

"Jack stayed behind. Surely that…surely that absolves all of the rest of us."

"It cannot be wiped from my conscience so easily."

"He did the same to you! And to Theo!" Elizabeth insisted.

"I think even Jack would have hesitated to do so if it was certain death he was handing us over to. Even Jack, in all of his selfishness and his peculiarity, he wouldn't have done what we did to him."

"We're going to get him back."

"Yes," Will agreed "You and I. And Barbossa, and Tia Dalma, and Gibbs, and the crew. Who is missing from that number?"

"The blame doesn't rest solely at Theo's feet. She - she advised us on how we might save ourselves, and I shan't pretend the idea mightn't have occurred to me independently had she not. If we'd had to wrestle Jack kicking and screaming into his quarters in order to make it happen I might understand your upset, but the two of you were hardly on the best terms at the time as it was."

"It's not Jack that troubles me. Were it anybody else who had done it all, I might understand. But Theodora? I wish I'd come out of all of this as forgiving towards her as you seem to be. You didn't hear how she swore to help Jack with her…"

"Visions?"

Will gave a rueful snort "Yes. Her visions. And then she betrayed him. If she was willing to do that, have we even any right to our surprise that she betrayed us, too? When she made no such oaths in our favour as she did with Jack?"

"I won't pretend I'm not annoyed at her. I'm not a fool, Will, I won't pretend that I can't see how she arranged matters just so in order to secure the heart for herself and Norrington. But that is precisely who she would've done it for - James. And I cannot pretend I wouldn't have done the same for you, either."

"That's not a satisfactory excuse."

"Is it not? How far would you go for the ones you love?" Will's hesitation showed on his face and Elizabeth latched onto it "You didn't see how she was back then - after I accepted his proposal. I won't deny that she owes us a bloody big apology, and I cannot even say with certainty that I would accept that apology, but James was always going to pick the other side, and Theo was always going to choose James. However she might have betrayed us, and betrayed Jack, it wasn't some…some masterplan to bring us all to our knees. She wouldn't have helped us in the end. She wouldn't have given me her sword during the fight, for that matter."

"Well, however well intentioned she was or was not, she's lost us Jack, and she's lost us the Pearl."

Elizabeth frowned "The Pearl? What do you care for the fate of the Pearl?"

Will blinked, and then he scowled and shook his head.

"She's a legendary ship. If we're to stand any chance against Beckett and now the Dutchman - thanks to your good friend - we'll need her. Especially should Theodora feel the urge to start sharing her visions with him."

"She wouldn't. Surely. She's as much love for…for Beckett and for the English, as she'd call them, as Barbossa does."

"She has a lot of love for one Englishman in particular, to hear you tell it yourself. And we all know whose side he is on. Yet another thing she'd do for Norrington, perhaps."

"I'm not trying to insist that she has some grand benevolent plan in mind, one in which we all might win. Surely if she did, she would have indicated so," Elizabeth allowed "But I still have some hope that she does. That she's the woman I knew in Port Royal."

"Over a year has gone by since then," Will pointed out "And she was lying to you then, too."

"Even so," Elizabeth said, albeit without much conviction.

Will sighed and turned away - his fiancee did not follow. Neither of them were aware of Tia Dalma and their new captain both watching the entire exchange with varying degrees of interest on their faces.

"How long is it you think you have before they realise Jack is alive and well?" Tia Dalma asked casually.

Barbossa scowled at her, directing a quick glance about the deck to make sure they had not been overheard before he responded.

"You heard Mr Turner - he sees the need for the Pearl to be returned to us, and I've no intention of leaving my ship to be forever locked away in Jones' locker, squandered because Jack was unfit for the role of captain."

"Even if Jack went down with the Pearl, it would still be in the locker," Tia Dalma pointed out.

"As captain, he should have."

"Aye, he should have," Tia Dalma echoed - but her words came from a different place than Barbossa's, punctuated at the end with a grumble of "That fool girl…"

"Young Mr Turner knows we need my ship for what still lies ahead of us. Miss Swann would heed his word even if she knew the truth-" at this, Tia Dalma gave a snort of laughter as if she did not agree, but Barbossa paid her little mind "The crew? Plenty among them remain loyal to Jack, so it'd be in our best interest that they keep thinking him dead. But they're all content enough to believe rumours of his survival to be a scurrilous rumour spread by Beckett to dissuade us from retrievin' him, so we only fail now if Beckett chooses to parade him out before we can get to the locker. With each day that passes, that be less and less likely. Within a week, we'll be so close that word reaching us of it, even should it happen, would be an impossibility."

Offering no reaction to his insistence, Tia Dalma looked out over the open ocean with an expression that was almost entirely unreadable to anybody aboard. The only thing that flickered across it was amusement, but she always had a way of looking like she knew a secret nobody else did. That was fairly accurate, though. In fact, she knew several.

"That fool girl you were referring to," Barbossa added "Miss Swann, or the fiery-headed witch that was trailing after Jack when last we met?"

The smirk on Tia Dalma's face grew as she did not answer - although it held more annoyance than amusement.

The morning following their heated discussion found James and Theo getting ready for the day ahead in subdued silence. Despite their victory - one that felt like it would be major before they'd achieved it, but only seemed like a drop in the ocean now that they had - and despite the fact that they'd spent the night making up, it was difficult to muster much cheer. He was already mostly dressed by the time Hattie came in to help Theo with her own clothing, and Theo wasn't blind to the furtive looks frequently shot by the maid between her and James at the lack of any jokes, smiles, or even chitchat.

No doubt she'd heard some level of commotion the night before, but she was hardly going to ask about it, was she? They'd need to have a conversation with her soon. And Groves. Dream up another set of lies, although this one would be closer to the truth than pretty much all of the others that had come before it. That wasn't much of a comfort. Despite all of the grief maintaining a façade had brought her, the truth was far more troubling than her little Irish foundling storyline. Beckett would want it contained, but there would be those who had to know.

A knock sounded from downstairs and Theo jumped so harshly that Hattie fumbled with the ties that held together the bodice of her dress.

Sighing, James nodded in the direction of the bedroom door and broke the veil of silence that had enveloped the room all morning "The door, Hattie."

Smoothing down her skirts, Theo watched as Hattie stepped out of the room and James made short work of the ties at her back.

"He will summon us today," he spoke quietly "He won't wish to waste any time in formulating a way forward in light of this…this new information."

"That'll probably be his invitation there," Theo said.

"Are you ready for the sort of questions he will have for you?"

"As ready as I can be. It's nothing more dangerous than what we've already faced, right?"

He didn't seem as convinced by her words as she'd hoped - although she couldn't fault him for that, because she wasn't very convinced by them, either.

"We'll face it together," he answered.

Her smile in response was strained, but it wasn't entirely disingenuous.

"He believes me capable of keeping you in line," he added "Or at least he's tasked me with it."

Theo breathed a laugh.

"Yes," he agreed "Quite. But it will serve us well, so long as he continues to labour under that belief. So we must make sure that he does."

"If he thinks it necessary, his first step would be to separate us as a punishment. Then he'll use each of us as a threat against the other to keep us both in line afterwards."

"Just so," he replied grimly "So it is of the utmost importance that we do not supply him with a reason to do so. Although I fear he will not need one, should he desire it."

"So we'd better make sure he doesn't desire it, either."

The responding hum he gave was distinctly unhappy. The laces at her back were long since tied, and he stood with his hands resting over her sides - the touch was comforting, although she could barely feel it through all of her layers of clothing. She rested her hands atop his and regarded him sadly in the mirror…and then Hattie's footsteps grew louder in the hallway and they stepped apart from one another.

"It's Lieutenant Groves, sir, ma'am," she looked between them "He's…come to escort you to Lord Beckett."

"We shall be with him presently," James answered, turning and lifting his wig from the stand on the vanity.

"Forgive me, sir, but it's only Mrs Norrington he's come for."

They shared a look which betrayed all that they felt in regards to that revelation - dread, mostly, but Theo's face was the only one which bore much acceptance as James donned his wig and hat with well-practised speed.

"James," she sighed.

"I will speak with Groves. You are my wife, this is highly irregular - and improper, I might add."

"So was setting free Jack, he would argue."

James gave her a look at that which verged on exasperated - and he did unimpressed very well, did James, it was actually sort of impressive.

"If he wants to see me alone, propriety won't make a difference, James," she changed her tactic to one that was hopefully just a wee bit more helpful.

"I don't expect to change Beckett's mind, Theodora, but I do wish to speak to Groves. Finish dressing, I'll bring Groves into the sitting room to wait."

There wasn't much dressing left to really do - just the finicky bits. The jewellery, the shoes, that sort of thing. Even the clothing was a bloody minefield now. If she dressed too demurely, it would look like she was trying too hard to look innocent and unthreatening - which, in itself, might mean that she was anything but. Going down the other end of the spectrum was equally dangerous, though, because then Beckett might deem her to be too confident, and that hardly suited the role of the repentant soul who had to do the bad for the sake of the good.

In the end, she'd chosen to don a gown of burnt umber, one of good quality fabric but was mostly without excessive embroidery or faff, and then strung a set of pearls about her neck and at her ears. It was simple, it was elegant, and most importantly it was very much the standard of the grey man in Port Royal. While hoping that she might go unnoticed would be nothing short of delusion, it would still pay to be as unremarkable as she could hope to be.

She ran the pad of her thumb over her wedding ring for the billionth time that morning alone as she stepped into her shoes. Hattie didn't speak up until she was halfway out of the bedroom door.

"…Mistress Theodora?" She asked unsurely, pausing in her efforts to tidy the vanity.

Theo stilled, turning her head questioningly.

"Is…is everything well?"

The question caught her off guard and she paused, and then she hesitated. And that answered the question, really, didn't it? Panic struck Hattie's fair features almost immediately, although that was the only real reaction she offered - her face gave her away, even as she returned to her work without so much as a tremor in her hands, and Theo admired her bravery.

"It's nothing to worry you about. You're safe," she offered, resting a hand on the doorframe.

"And you?"

"I…will be," she said "We'll talk. Tonight. But until then, try not to worry, yeah?"

"Is that an order?" She joked, breathing a nervous laugh.

"A request," Theo corrected "And a sad attempt at reassurance. You're fine, though. If you weren't, I'd tell you."

Hattie either was not comforted or was not convinced, her lips set in a thin line and her brow furrowed as she set back to her work. But she didn't look up again, and Theo took that as the end of the conversation.

As she descended the stairs she could make out voices but not words, for they were speaking in hushed tones - and not particularly cheerful ones. Not wanting to seem like she was trying to sneak up on them, she cleared her throat as she reached the bottom of the stairs, and then she sniffed for good measure. They fell silent after the cough, though, and when she walked into the room she was met with silence. James' face was stony. He'd never been good at disguising his worry, not in matters that weren't specifically battle related - or maybe she just knew him too well for any attempt at disguising it to work - and it shone through when he looked to her and then sighed and looked away again. Whatever he'd tried to say to Groves apparently had not proven fruitful.

And Groves…Groves nodded his greeting, as well as offering an awkward "Mrs Norrington", but he would not look at her.

"Lieutenant Groves will escort you to Lord Beckett, while I attend to my usual duties," James offered in the way of explanation.

"Are we leaving now?"

"We go on foot, so it would be prudent," Groves answered.

Approaching her, James rested a hand on her shoulder "I may find myself with business at Beckett's offices once I have seen out my duties. You may find me there over the course of the day."

That was a promise of rescue if she'd ever heard one. Thank Christ.

"All right," she nodded "I'll see you later, then."

How would she behave if she didn't have anything to hide? The act itself of pondering that did sort of make such a performance more difficult, but it was a necessary thing to think over so she didn't bumble her way through this and arse everything up. She'd thought playing pretend was stressful last time she was here, but being caught out by James was entirely different than being caught out by Beckett.

But if she was acting in the Crown's best interests (and brain-dead enough to believe that didn't directly translate to Beckett's best interests in his twisted mind) she'd be feeling determined now, right? Maybe even relieved that she could now act openly and be of use without secrecy, as she'd been when James had learned the truth of her background. And even with that, she couldn't be begrudged a little bit of nervousness. Beckett made everybody at least slightly uncomfortable, he seemed to take great joy in that. He was a bit like Jack that way…if infinitely less charming.

Sighing heavily, she squared her shoulders and tried to adopt a manner that was very much all business - forcing a look of determination onto her face. If worried approval was a real thing, James managed to nail it in a single look, concern shining in his eyes even as he nodded at her from behind Groves as the Lieutenant began to lead the way to the door.

It was a cool day by the Caribbean's standards, and she found it funny to think that those standards had finally become her own standards. It was a relief, too, though, especially considering the sheer amount of layers Port Royal necessitated. As they walked down the street, she glanced towards Groves to find his eyes fixed firmly ahead, and though she wanted to give him time to process the slightly unusual revelation of 'my friend is claiming to have magical powers', she was quickly getting the feeling that if she didn't speak, they simply wouldn't talk at all.

"I'm sorry," she said "For not telling you. I understand if you feel very lied to."

"I confess I can't help but feel so," he admitted "Although I'm not sure how I would have reacted had you attempted to tell me."

"It's not the sort of thing that just comes up," she replied.

"Does Admiral Norrington believe it?"

That question gave her pause. Not just because she wasn't sure how to answer - after all Groves had been there when James had vehemently denied the accuracy of her "visions" to Beckett - but because of the question itself. Was she reading too much into it to think it might mean Groves' loyalty yet remained with James rather than to Beckett first and foremost? To Beckett's nastiest and most ardent supporters, the ones he'd personally brought over from England himself, it wouldn't matter whether James believed it or not so long as Beckett showed his belief. The fact that she had not yet been hanged spoke to where dear old Cutler stood on the matter.

"He…It's not the sort of thing he'd usually puts stock in, but I think he's seen enough to at least make him doubt," she answered carefully.

It wasn't that she didn't trust Groves, but she didn't want to show up James for a liar by outright contradicting what he'd said.

"When did you tell him?"

"In Tortuga, after he found me there."

"I imagine he took it well."

"He accused me of mocking him, and then when I managed to provide a bit of evidence, he vomited. Can't say I blame him."

"Nor I. What evidence?"

"Why don't you come over? Tonight - we'll give you dinner. I already need to have this conversation with Hattie, it seems best to get it all out in one go. Make a real apology hour of it."

"Hattie? Your maid?"

"My friend," she corrected "Who…happens to be my maid."

Groves huffed a laugh that, for once, sounded more exasperated than amused "Either you're maintaining the act frighteningly well, or there goes my theory that your entire manner of being before now was some form of sophisticated ruse."

"I can't really do sophisticated - even as a ruse. Ask anybody around here."

"Perhaps their thinking that was all part of the ruse."

Theo gave a tired smile, taking the slight return of their usual joking as a good sign.

"What…" Groves paused, glancing around before continuing quietly "Do your visions have to say…er, show? About Beckett? Generally speaking?"

"He…well, he has a lot of plans, doesn't he?"

"Indeed he does."

"And he's an emissary of the King, isn't he?"

"On paper, certainly."

Was he trying to test to see if she had her doubts? Or was he trying to gauge whether it was safe to express his own reservations? If those reservations even existed at all. Her memories of the story grew foggier and foggier with each day she spent in the damn thing, not helped at all by the fact that the third was the most complicated of them all. She never thought she'd long for the days of apparently uncomplicated zombie pirates. Although those days had been spent drowning her sorrows over the handsome man who appeared to be in love with another woman, so they hadn't been entirely rosy. God, her priorities were buggered.

Still, the fact remained that all she could remember of Groves from the third film was that he was by Beckett's side to the end. But had he seemed enthused by that fact? Or was he just doing his duty? After all, the outside observer would consider James to be on Beckett's side now, too. But it would be just like Beckett to send a good friend to needle the truth of her feelings on the matter, and while she was incredibly fond of Groves, there was too much at stake to risk it for the sake of a bitching session. Not until she knew more. He already was unsure whether or not she could be trusted, and cursing Beckett's name to high heavens might tip him over the edge as far as his opinion of her was concerned and lose her his trust for life. However much of it yet lay ahead of her.

"These are difficult times," she settled for saying.

"Indeed they are. Does this ability of yours tell you if easier ones await, when all is said and done?"

"Sure. Constant sunshine, and no problems ever. Just around the corner."

That won her another chuckle, and a mutter of "And there goes my theory that you're a good liar."

Whether Groves was on some secret undercover mission to test her loyalty or not, she was glad for his presence when they arrived at Beckett's offices. The soldiers stationed there kept their chins up and their gazes dutifully ahead, and if she didn't know better she might even think that they hadn't noticed her at all. But she did know better, and she was bloody uncomfortable. Were there more than usual? Or was she just noticing them more than usual? She clenched her jaw only as a way to physically steel herself against all of the fidgeting she wanted to do, wondering to herself if any sudden movements would find her at the mercy of a jumpy soldier and his long rifle.

Even in her fear she knew it was likely daft. These were trained men - well trained, if Beckett had his say, which he usually did. Don't shoot at people every time you get a fright did tend to be the first lesson of firearm training, but she didn't know if that was something that had been adopted after the eighteenth century via a tragic bit of trial and error. And the bayonets looked especially wicked today, gleaming in the light that shone through the windows.

How much had they been told? What was she in their minds? A traitor? A witch? A fool? Or a traitorous, foolish witch? No - somebody useful. To Beckett, at least, and that was all that mattered here - in these offices, and on this island. They walked into the office which was fast becoming far too familiar for her liking. Beckett was at his desk, writing leisurely on a piece of parchment set before him, and he dismissed Groves with not even a glance upwards before he could announce that he had seen his duty through. Theo didn't look at him as he bowed his head and left. And then…she just sort of stood there.

Beckett continued to write, and she continued to wait for whatever terrible motive he had to be revealed. So far, it just looked like that motive was letter writing.

"You…summoned me, Lord Beckett," she said, keeping her tone as unreadable as she could.

He did look at her then, directing a glance upwards like she was a great big idiot who'd just pointed out the painfully obvious. Which wasn't exactly wrong. Clasping her hands in front of her, the silence continued until she was certain she was about to go mad, but then he finally finished his letter, signing his name with a grand swipe of his quill.

"These visions of yours," he finally spoke, turning his attention to her and tilting his head just slightly "Is there anything in particular which might serve to incite them?"

It wasn't an entirely unexpected question - but it was more dangerous than it seemed. Sure, she could answer with something totally innocent, insisting that they came in dreams or when she ate broccoli, but knowing Beckett he'd only proceed to have her repeatedly knocked out or force-fed vegetables until she came up with something he liked.

"No," she answered.

He gave a huff of very unimpressed laughter, apparently having expected this response.

"It's like…a sneeze, or a yawn. A sense of déjà vu, something like that. I never know when they're going to strike."

"And how often would you say that they do 'strike'?" he asked.

"Usually just in the knick of time, my lord."

"Well," he replied "We shall certainly hope so."

He didn't ask any more questions, taking up a fresh sheet of parchment and writing anew. Theo wondered vaguely if he was writing anything at all, or just trying to infuriate her. But she got the sense that she wasn't important enough to him to be subjected to such a façade. He was halfway through his newest letter when her shifting her weight from one foot to the other caught his attention and he looked up again, that same annoying look of condescension on his face.

"Well, sit," he said - like she was a dog.

"...Lord Beckett?" she asked unsurely.

"This dazzling ability of yours may strike at any moment, and if - as you say - it ordinarily happens just in the knick of time, then it would only be prudent that you spend your days here, so that I may be informed of these revelations just in the knick of time. Happily, it's also a rather good way for me to ensure that no more of my prisoners are spirited away from their chains - nor any more politicians, for that matter."

He added the last bit as an afterthought, as if he'd almost admitted that Governor Swann had indeed been a prisoner. It didn't really matter though. What could she do with the admission if he said it right to her face? Report it to his men?

"Consequently," he continued "Unless you intend to stand there gawping at me until sunset, I suggest you take a seat, Mrs Norrington."

Theo's jaw clenched even further until she was sure her teeth were about to crack - both at just what an infuriating prick he was, and the unwelcome news of how she was now to spend her days. But that would've been the reaction he wanted. So instead she forced a smile (and it was forced), then an awkward laugh, unclasping her hands and dropping her arms to her sides.

"Of course - I'm sorry, foolish of me. I should have realised."

The bored look her apology received told her just how much he bought the fumbling awkward act of hers. Considering it hadn't yet been twenty-four hours since she'd helped Jack escape. Leaning into the act too much would be just as bad as not acting at all, though, so she considered what she'd do if she was really on his side. She'd want to understand their current situation - that would be a good start.

"How bad is it? Not having the governor here?" she asked "Will it create terrible chaos here? The pirates would want that, I think."

For a moment Beckett didn't appear as though he had any intention of answering, but when he finally did he regarded her carefully as he spoke, looking for any trace of a reaction.

"Not as much as they would hope. Governor Swann's kidnapping constitutes a state of emergency, during which all of his typical powers of state fall upon the next most suitable candidate - until the day comes when we are able to recover him."

"And you're that candidate," she replied.

Now he truly did not respond, but a response wasn't really needed. It didn't matter much anyway, did it? Governor Swann had been well and truly stuck here, at the mercy of whatever whim popped into Beckett's mind. The results would be much the same, the middle-man had just been cut out. Saved, hopefully. It would be fine. She nodded to herself in the face of her own reassurance, exhaling slowly through her nose. With any luck he'd take that as a sign of relief in the face of what he'd just told her.

They were stuck together now - for the foreseeable future, at least. And if that was the case, she couldn't afford to let him get to her. So she simply would not let him. It was as simple as that. Wasn't it?

A/N: So my novel is now in the beta reading stage, meaning over the next however many months I'll be slowly rolling out chapters to my lovely set of beta readers to read and give me feedback on! It's the first time anybody other than me has seen this, so I'm very nervous but also very excited! It feels very surreal so far, but the feedback has been lovely which is always great. Worst case scenario, though, even if that changes I'll then know what needs fixing for the next draft! All progress is good progress! I honestly can't say if this will impact update speeds, but I'm thinking it shouldn't do so too badly! Especially now that I've discovered a snazzy library in my new city which is perfect for whiling away the hours writing in.

If you're interested in any of that, I talk about it quite a bit on the accounts I have elsewhere:

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