A/N: Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out! I had to reference the movie for a few little details here and there, as well as fleshing out my outline for what remains of the story, and my internet wouldn't allow me to use any streaming services for a good few days there. I didn't want to just go ahead, take a guess, and write it without checking and end up fucking things up for the future.
I'm determined to end this thing right! I've been pretty much terrified of reaching this arc since I started this story, but I finally feel ready for it now. I hope you guys enjoy what I have in store! I feel like the end will be upon us way too quickly now. I've been working on outlining each individual chapter between here and the end, and it's looking like we'll end up with maybe ninety chapters overall at absolute most. The end is indeed nigh. But, on the bright side, a lot of those chapters should be pretty lengthy and, uh, very eventful.
On a less solemn note, the lovely humans who are beta reading my novel for me are getting back to me slowly but surely and the response is very promising so far!
Theo sat in the cabin she shared with James aboard the Endeavour, her hair twisted up into a simple bun, her body decked out in a pretty cream day dress…and her feet donned in Doc Martens. The boots had been a hell of a battle, mainly with Hattie who couldn't believe she meant it when she insisted these would be the only footwear she'd settle for here, but they were worth it. Never wear shoes you can't run in. How long had it been since she'd heard her dad's snippets of wisdom - in his own voice - lurking in the back of her mind? Too long. Not long enough. When she first got here, in this time, it had been a near daily thing, and while she didn't doubt that it had helped, she also knew it would've made the adjustment a lot more difficult in the long run.
In the vein of difficulty adjusting…Hattie was not doing well. Stupidly, Theo hadn't really thought about the fact that in finessing her way onto the Endeavour, and later the Dutchman, she'd be doing the same for Hattie, too. She'd been so concerned with what was ahead of her that she hadn't really stopped to consider who was around her. It made sense, in a dumb sort of Port Royal way. James might be able to help her in and out of her clothing (so grim were her current set of circumstances that she didn't even have it in her to muster an immature laugh at that thought), but he couldn't do her hair, tend to her clothing. Nor, most importantly, could he spy on her for Beckett.
As soon as she realised the girl would be following them to the Endeavour, Theo broke the news to her that the Dutchman would come soon after. She had to. If she told her early on, and told her quickly, then she'd have time to brace herself for it. To come to terms with it. Right? Well, that conviction had wavered when she told her and the girl's face had instantly paled to the point of greyness. Then it vanished when her self-control buckled, and her face along with it. The following hour had been spent abandoning all sense of propriety entirely, hugging the girl close to her and fiercely insisting that it would be fine - that she would be fine.
James had walked in on that exchange and promptly stepped right back out again. Apparently she should have worn it as a badge of honour all this time that her tears were ones he was willing to deal with, even back when they'd first met.
Before she'd become familiar with ships, she was always caught off guard by the sheer size of them. The Endeavour was like a floating town, so big that it barely even rocked unless the waters grew especially restless. If she was in her cabin with the door shut and facing away from the window, she could almost pretend she was on land. Almost. It would've been easier were her teeth not constantly set on edge by Beckett's close proximity. At least at home, she had home. She got to walk through her front door at the end of each day and drop the facade, Now the facade had to constantly be up. Now the possibility of things they said getting back to Beckett was all but a certainty.
Refusing to take up something like embroidery or knitting (she'd only be shite at both, which would be suspicious), she took to staring at pages of books more than reading them, dully counting in her head before she turned the page. She was thirty seconds into the third chapter of Gulliver's Travels - a new novel that was all the rage in London at the moment - when a knock sounded at the door. Snapping the book shut, Theo forced herself not to jump to her feet as Hattie moved to answer it. But then it swung open to reveal Mercer, newly returned from Singapore, and she did rise to her feet. Being seated when that snake was slithering about just didn't seem wise.
"Where's your mistress?" Theo heard him ask bluntly.
Hattie bowed her head and stepped aside immediately, but she couldn't blame the girl for that - she would expect the girl to leap between her and Davy Jones either. No doubt she'd have the opportunity to do it before this was through, but y'know. There'd be no hard feelings when it didn't happen.
"Lord Beckett wants to see you," he said.
That was it. In a little world that was so constantly tangled in over-the-top formality and manners, the lack thereof when it came was bound to be jarring and strange. Theo had a feeling that if she ever wound up back in her own time, people speaking what she'd once considered to be "normally" would feel strange and overly blunt. The man fixed her with a withering, narrow-eyed stare when he'd finished speaking, and she refused to flinch away as Hattie had. There were many things she'd be scared of here. Mercer wasn't one of them. She refused to let him be one of them.
So she motioned vaguely towards him and shrugged as much as the restrictive nature of her clothing would allow "Lead the way."
He kept a brisk pace as he led her through a handful of levels below deck, not slowing even when it came time for her to navigate the perilously steep and narrow steps in her stupid skirts, and Theo kept up and hoped she wouldn't ruin her whole "I will not be scared of you, you grim bastard" shtick by falling flat on her face. Thanks to the pace Mercer set, they were above deck in no time.
James stood by the rail talking with a handful of the higher ranking amongst his men - no doubt taking care of details as far as their occupation of the Dutchman would go. As she and Mercer strode past, his eyes met hers and the alarm he must've felt flickered through them before he had a chance to put a lid on it. After making sure nobody was paying her much mind, she shot him a wink in an attempt to either lighten the mood or ease his worries. It didn't seem to work, and his eyes followed her right up until they slipped through the doors that would lead them inside to Beckett's office.
"Ah, Mrs Norrington," he greeted, sitting in the chair at his desk with as much lazy ease as anybody else would lounge in a deckchair "How are you finding your return to the sea?"
He had a way of asking questions while appearing entirely uninterested in the answer. As he did, Mercer came to a halt somewhere behind her - a move meant to intimidate her, no doubt, given that she could hardly keep an eye on him from there. It worked, and she already fought the urge to shield all of her weak spots as she stood there.
Sure, a few other soldiers were in the room, but she knew damn well that Mercer could run her through here and now and they wouldn't do a damn thing about it.
"It's cleaner this time," she replied "And my boss is less apt to try and get me drunk."
Beckett offered a snort at that - the equivalent of a great hulking guffaw as far as his response to her humour was concerned - before he responded "Yes, I imagine the offerings of the bar here are considerably finer."
Theo didn't respond. She knew Beckett too well by now to be dragged into any false sense of camaraderie. Her suspicion served her well, too, because his next question proved them right.
"There are rumours that Jack Sparrow has been spotted in a nearby port. Alone."
The eyes of both men were glued to her face when he said that, looking for any trace of happiness at the news. But she made sure that they'd find none. It wasn't even that difficult, either, considering she currently felt like she was trapped in a paddling pool with a couple of tiger sharks. And the news was a bit of a mixed bag, wasn't it? Sure, they remained uncaught, and with them now being separated it meant that one of them being caught no longer meant that both of them were caught. That was all good. But she was worried for the Governor. She had less faith in his ability to remain under the radar and out of Beckett's hands than she did Jacks - at least Jack had a lifetime of practise under his belt as far as that was concerned.
"Have you any idea where he is?" Beckett asked.
"No," she replied.
"If you did know, would you tell us?" he ventured.
Theo thought about it for a moment. The only reason he'd ask would be to see if she would lie to him. He liked to test her that way quite a bit.
"No," she repeated "I got him away for a reason. His presence would be detrimental, and to get him back would just undo all of the bother I went through in the first place."
"And if I ordered you to tell me? If I disagreed?"
Theo moved her head from side to side in thought "That's more of a tricky dilemma, because I suppose it's your call in the long run. But it doesn't matter, because I genuinely have no clue where he is."
"And I believe you," he said, and she had to stifle a sigh of relief before he added "On that count. Mr Mercer has just returned from Singapore. Does your knowledge extend to what he told me?"
Closing her eyes, she made a show of trying to tune into these mystical powers of her, wrinkling her nose as she did so. She resisted the urge to wriggle from side to side - this wasn't Bewitched.
"They got away," she said "They move on to the locker."
"Any charlatan could have deduced that after seeing that I returned without any of them in tow," Mercer said, unimpressed.
Ah. That was why she was here, was it? To prove herself to Mercer. Furrowing her brow, she lifted a hand to her temple and swayed on her feet just a little.
"There's…there's something to do with Will," she said slowly "And Sao Feng? He's up to something. Something the rest don't know about."
Christ, she was reminding herself of those god awful mediums on TV who would throw out random facts until they struck gold. Opening her eyes, she regarded Beckett and then turned her head to look at Mercer, too.
"They made a deal. Will and Sao Feng."
At first she was worried that she'd overdone it a bit, but judging by the smirk Beckett levelled at Mercer once she was done, she heavily suspected she'd just won him a bet. The satisfaction lasted all of a second before Mercer found his voice again, giving a snort that sounded just a bit too blustery to be completely unimpressed.
"So we've a psychic who tells us what we already know through worldly means. I fail to see how that's of use."
Beckett hummed, apparently seeing his point "There is that."
Theo turned, facing straight ahead once again.
"Do you know where the Brethren Court will convene?" Beckett asked.
Shipwreck Cove.
"No," Theo said.
"Do you know the significance of the nine pieces of eight?"
To free Calypso.
"No."
"Do you know if Sparrow has one of those nine pieces?"
Yes, I hid it in my cleavage for a bit before I gave it back to him.
"No," she said - hoping this wasn't a three strikes and you're out sort of deal "I just know that Will is your in."
"Turner seems happy to turn on the rest of them, that much is obvious, but it might be more useful if we knew why," Mercer pointed out.
"Turner isn't the type to care for power," Beckett said as though it were an insult "The captaincy of the Black Pearl would only interest him if it were a stepping stone to some other aim."
"He wants the Pearl because it's the only ship that has a chance against the Dutchman."
"Why would he be concerned about the Dutchman?"
Theo almost grimaced - almost. She pulled it back at the last second and managed to keep her face impassive, but that was the least of her dilemmas. The fact of the matter was, she was not yet on the Dutchman, and until she was on that cursed ship and the Endeavour was no longer a speck on the horizon, Beckett could change his mind about allowing her to follow James whenever he liked. She knew it, he knew it, they all knew it, and they all knew that everybody knew it. But telling Beckett all of the sordid details concerning Will's familial drama was a big step. One that would have Beckett use Bootstrap as a carrot and a stick all at once, and one that ramped up the danger for Will and his father both.
But…what if that could work in her favour?
"His father is among Jones' crew. He needs the Pearl to free him. That's what matters to him more than anything right now - freeing his father."
This could work. This could be an impressively neat solution, even. If they got to the Dutchman and she discovered that her prior attempts to slow Bootstrap's deteriorating mental state had done nothing, it wouldn't matter anyway because Beckett would bring him onto the Endeavour, ready to be used as a pawn. Bootstrap could not stab James, because he'd be on the Endeavour. It could work. Maybe Will could even get what he wanted and Beckett would have Jones release Bootstrap for him, sparing Will from his own fate. Yeah, it'd still leave the matter of somebody having to stab the heart, but they could cross that bridge once they reached it.
All Theo knew was that it massively amplified her chances of James surviving the immediate future, and that was a chance she had to take.
"His father, you say?" Beckett mused - because she'd finally piqued his interest.
"He made no mention of that to Sao Feng," Mercer said.
"Why would he?" Theo countered "I know it for a fact, Lord Beckett. A fact."
"His father's name?"
"William Turner - but he goes by Bootstrap. Bootstrap Bill. If you have Jones free him, Will will do whatever you want."
Visibly mulling over this information, Beckett nodded slowly, his eyebrows raising slightly, finally turning his attention back to Mercer.
"Fetch Admiral Norrington."
This time she really did breathe a sigh of relief when Mercer stepped from the room. It was never going to be a secret that the man made her uncomfortable, and Beckett smirked in response to it. Theo tried not to pay it any mind, her eyes flickering towards the desk in the corner where the Governor should have been sitting, if her memory served her well. The scene stood out in her memory - it would be the last one he would be seen alive in, his encounter with Elizabeth in the locker not counting.
The long, thin box atop the side table caught her eye next, and she remembered why exactly it was that Beckett wanted to see James.
"We make contact with the Dutchman readily. I trust you and the Admiral are prepared?"
"My husband lives his life in a permanent state of readiness," she said "And my maid is getting the last of my things together now."
Jones wouldn't exactly be thrilled to see her again, but it was pointless worrying about that until she was faced with it.
"Should you find yourself on the receiving end of any further revelations, you are to tell the Admiral immediately and he'll signal the Endeavour."
"Yes, Lord Beckett."
"I don't expect I need to emphasise to you what will happen should any old pirate sympathies surface."
He still didn't trust her, then. Fair. Theo got the impression that it was James' supposedly unquestionable loyalty that her continued survival hinged on. Her own loyalty to the crown might've been in doubt, but her loyalty to James was not. That was wise. So long as they didn't doubt she was loyal to him, they likely would not doubt that she'd be a good and faithful British subject. But if he was going to try and scare her with big bad things left unsaid, she wasn't going to let him.
"A hanging, I'd guess," she said lightly in response to the thinly veiled threat. -
"Mm. Hangings are punishment for piracy. Your betrayal - hypothetical, of course - would constitute treason. The punishment for that is rather more severe."
"It still involves hanging, though. I was technically right."
She couldn't wait until the little twerp was dead.
"So you were," he conceded "My mistake."
The door to the office swung open and Mercer led James into the room. This time, Mercer moved to stand by Beckett's desk rather than looming behind her, confirming to Theo - as if there'd been any doubt - that his earlier tactic had indeed been for the benefit of intimidation.
"Ah, Admiral," Beckett greeted James as though he hadn't just been threatening to hang, draw, and quarter his wife.
"You summoned me, Lord Beckett," James intoned.
His eyes met hers and she offered a tight-lipped smile. It did about as much to lighten his mood as the earlier wink had.
"Yes," Beckett replied, nodding in the direction of the box "Something for you there. Your new station deserves an old friend."
However unbothered he tried to permanently seem, before Theo's attention turned solely to James, she noticed Beckett watching him keenly, too, for a reaction as he approached the box, unlatched it, and lifted the lid.
The sword prompted none of the joy that the prospect of such a reunion might have brought about when James had first come to Tortuga all those months ago. In fact, a visible heaviness seemed to settle over him as he took up the sword and regarded it for a few long moments before he turned his eyes to her. Theo returned his look with a sympathetic frown, her back turned to Beckett and Mercer so that they wouldn't see it.
"The brethren know they face extinction," Beckett said "All that remains is for them to decide where they make their final stand. Should your wife get an inkling of where that is, you are to inform me immediately."
They both nodded in agreement to that, James' eyes trailing back towards the sword, and Theo mostly just hoped that she hadn't told Beckett too much already.
A/N: It's never actually said in the movies how the communication between the Endeavour and the Dutchman is done - it's always just "signal Jones, signal the Dutchman" and so on. So I'm copying that, because if it's good enough for the official movies then I can do it, too.