A/N:...Buckle up, lads. These next two chapters were originally going to be one big one, but the pacing just didn't work. It would've ended up being a 10k word chapter, and I didn't want it to drag on. If you follow me elsewhere, the next one is the one that I've been building up and screeching about. Apologies about that. But it being two chapters now does allow me to warn the ones who don't follow me elsewhere that the next one is a big one. I've had it planned since I started the story, I'm in shock that we're finally here. With all of that being said, I'm getting the next one ready ASAP and I'll post it as soon as it's done. I'm already writing it, it's at the top of the priority list.

Theo's time aboard the Dutchman was proving both better than she could've hoped for and, well, perhaps not worse but certainly as bad as she'd anticipated. The shining beacon of a saving grace was that Jones left her be. For now. Apparently having a small squadron of men pointing various forms of firearms at one's heart was enough to bring about a wee bit of caution. Plus, accosting the wife of the ship's Admiral would probably be seen as somewhat provocative behaviour.

When Jones' furious avoidance of her had become quite apparent, she'd felt free to exhale. Not completely - that wouldn't happen until everything was done and dusted, but slightly. Half of one lungful, at least. It might've been one entire lung, were it not for the fact that Jones was not the only one avoiding her. Bootstrap Bill would not speak to her. Would not look at her.

In the very, very beginning she'd taken it as yet another sign of his deteriorating mental state. Blind hope more than anything, really - that he hadn't heard Beckett fling her under the bus, that all was well. But he responded to orders right enough and upon her third attempt to talk to him, she noticed the tension that took hold of his body each and every time. His hands would grip the rag he cleaned with just a bit tighter, his shoulders would stiffen up, and his jaw would clench. He'd also lose the ability to lift his head high enough to look at anything other than a person's knees.

On her fourth attempt to talk to him - having found him below deck, giving some semblance of privacy - she'd given up trying to tease any kind of active listening out of him and simply forced out everything else she needed to say. Her voice had been shaky and desperate even to her own ears as she said whatever it was that she thought might help. That Beckett was not to be trusted, that he'd framed things wrongly, that she meant no ill towards Will, that however things appeared she was currently subordinate to Beckett out of necessity and not free will.

All it took was one witheringly distrustful glare for her to fall back and stop trying altogether for the final time. She'd returned fretfully to her quarters ever since. The sight of the man had her stomach twisting until it felt like it was being wrung out.

"I really do think you should wear your corset, Mistress Theo," Hattie said nervously.

Theo tuned her out. She'd said so upwards of five times today, and there were three things keeping her from losing her patience and snapping over it. The first was that she knew she'd just feel guilty over it the second she did, the second was that the fixation on this one topic was born of a mixture of fear and concern both (hence why she'd feel guilty if she got annoyed by it) and the third was that Hattie was not the only one who was scared. Her own fear was probably why she was short of patience to begin with, preoccupied by the ever-growing gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"At least just the corset, if you're truly so opposed to skirts," she added doubtfully.

There was also the fact that she'd deposited all of her petticoats overboard to save on the sheer amount of room the daft things took up. She was half tempted to do the same with the corset next, just so she wouldn't have to hear about it any more, but she squashed that urge.

"I don't mean to harp on about it," she added fretfully, leaving Theo both relieved that she hadn't been a raging bitch about it, but also guilty for feeling annoying in the first place "But…I've seen how the…er, men…Jones' men…look at you…Maybe it would help if…"

"They look at me like that because I'm a witch, as far as they're concerned, and because their captain hates me. Not because of what I'm wearing. There's nothing for it, I'm afraid," at the fretful frown on Hattie's face, she added "The good news is, they all hate me so much that they hardly notice you at all."

Hattie did not look cheered by that.

"I'd rather they bothered me than you. I've lived in Tortuga, remember? This lot are nothing compared."

She hoped she looked as blasé as she sounded, for she certainly didn't feel it.

"And I'd rather they bothered neither of us," Hattie murmured ruefully "Lord knows how the Admiral is so unfazed by them."

Theo smiled then, unable to help it much "Yeah, well, it'd take something terrible indeed to faze him. I'm not sure they count."

"I dread to think what would faze him, then," Hattie replied and then added "...If you don't mind my saying so, Mistress Theo…"

"Of course I don't," Theo said "Say whatever you like."

Further discussions regarding matters surrounding freedom of speech were halted when shouts began ringing out around the ship - orders being relayed, and then repeated in confirmation, as well as borderline incoherent growls and grunts from Jones' crew in begrudging acknowledgement. Moving towards the cabin's door, Theo cracked it open an inch to try and hear what was going on more clearly, but with no luck.

She'd barely closed it again, shaking her head fretfully, when it flew open - narrowly missing her - and James entered. Squeezing her arm in the way of an apology for nearly subjecting her to death by door, he let go and shut it behind him before he turned back to them and spoke.

"We've word from the Endeavour - orders to pursue the Empress."

Theo stared at him. It took a few moments of expectant silence before she mustered the ability to speak.

"Sao Feng's ship?" she asked.

It took concerted effort to force her voice to a volume above a reedy whisper after the first word.

"I believe so, yes," James nodded "Is this as it should be?"

Should be was such a relative, dangerous bloody term.

"Er…just about. Yeah. Not unexpected."

No matter how stupidly long she'd spent hoping, wishing, and praying that it wouldn't happen. That her mere existence here would've jostled and changed something. Even now part of her blindly hoped that Elizabeth would not be aboard and they could just cut and run immediately afterwards, damn the consequences. It was highly doubtful she'd be that lucky, though, and she knew blind hope when she felt it.

"Then," he glanced at Hattie, hesitating, before levelling one of those heart-stopping concerned looks Theo's way "Why have you grown so pale?"

"Oh, it's nothing, just- er, a discussion I was having with Hattie. Apparently I've been getting some less than gentlemanly looks from Jones' crew, so I might have to don the corset once again."

"They glare at you because they believe you to be a witch who has more than earned the hatred of their captain, not because of your sartorial choices," he replied drily.

"Of course, how silly of me. Why didn't I think of that? But, er, I think I'll still put the corset on. Will you help me with it?"

It was an excuse. Both to do something - anything - and to get Hattie out of the room without actually asking her to leave. Maybe it was a standard thing between employers and employees around here, but it still made her feel like a dick. It was fine, anyway, as corsets weren't half as restrictive as masses of skirts, especially not if it wasn't laced stupidly tightly.

Hattie stepped from the room and she shrugged her shirt off, picking up the corset. Hattie had re-laced the whole thing, likely hoping that if she made putting it back on mostly a matter of pulling it over her head and tightening the damn thing then she'd be more inclined to do so.

"You're going to wear it over bare skin?" he asked doubtfully.

"Well, over my bra. It's that or over my shirt, which would be worse in terms of optics. Unless I then wear another shirt over that, but we are in the Caribbean and-" she spoke as she wrestled the thing over her head and then held it against her front.

"Under the shirt, then," he interrupted "Although when I pictured married life, I did not quite envisage dressing and undressing my wife thus."

"Your quarrel is with my eighteen year old self," she snorted "And I would've thought that the undressing part might've been implied."

"Behave," he chided, tugging at the laces behind her to punctuate the warning…before taking any bite out of it when he cleaned closer and murmured "It was not a complaint."

Theo breathed a laugh - a sound that almost turned into a sob when she realised this might be the last of their time together. Tonight. It would all go down tonight. Thank god he couldn't see her face.

"Elizabeth is aboard the Empress," she said once she was sure she could trust her voice "Sao Feng will die when the Dutchman fires on his ship…but before he does, he'll name her Captain. Right in time for her n' her shiny new crew to be brought aboard."

James' motions had stopped after her first statement, and he only resumed his careful, and somewhat unpractised, tightening of the laces a few moments after she'd finished speaking.

"I…I'm unsure as to what I should think."

"About Elizabeth's captaincy?"

"Regarding your silence on this reunion until it is almost upon us," he said.

Well, that was because it wasn't the only thing that was almost upon them.

"What do you mean?"

"Well," he cleared his throat, moving with a gentleness that didn't particularly lend itself to tightening a corset "The last time I found myself suddenly reunited with Miss Swann, it prompted certain…concerns. From you."

"You make it sound like I thought you'd go running back to her," she snorted.

"The thought did occur- that you were worried, I mean, not to, er, run…"

Theo gave him a wry look "Thanks for clarifying. Don't worry - I'm not worried. A lot's changed since then hasn't it?"

She lifted her left hand to illustrate her point, her wedding band glinting in the meagre light brought into the room by the oil lamp strapped to the wall and the splintered gaps in the panelling along the side of the ship.

"It has," he agreed, and when he saw she was sincere, he let the topic drop.

"I didn't say much because things are about to really heat up from here. There's not much you can do for the time being beyond what you're already going to do, so…"

It wasn't even a total lie. She was just leaving out the fact that she also didn't speak of it because she was pretty damn certain most of the time that she couldn't - literally as well as emotionally. Talking about it with Queen Achtland and then, later, Jack had made it all real, and those instances had been months and weeks ago, respectively. It left plenty of time to kid that it would not happen. Now she was standing here, on the eve of it all, and she felt like she had a vice slowly encasing her throat, tightening with each slight incremental dim of the daylight outside.

"If this is how things are when they are lukewarm, I'm not sure I wish to see what comes next."

"You never struck me as one to avoid things."

"I said I do not wish to see it - not that I will close my eyes."

"Touché."

"What sort of knots do these things require?" James asked when he'd finished his handiwork.

Theo snickered - although even laughing took a great deal of fighting against the heaviness in her chest, suggesting drily "An anchor hitch?"

"I had thought to try a handcuff knot."

Theo buried her knee-jerk response of maybe later, not really having it in her to play the clown. Who thought that day would ever come?

"Whichever you like, just make sure it's sturdy," she answered.

He hummed his ascent, and after a bit more of being tugged about the knot was done and she could shrug her shirt back on. The finished effect was a bit absurd - like something out of a terribly inaccurate budget fantasy movie, albeit ruined a little by the straps of the brightly coloured sports bra peeking out when she moved this way or that. All she needed now was a pair of heels and a hair perm and she'd give the lass from Van Helsing a run for her money.

Once she was done, she turned back towards him and found him regarding her with a furrowed brow. There wasn't time for him to linger much longer - if they were in hot pursuit of the Empress, he'd be needed above deck, not hiding out below trading quips with his wife. He knew that, he had to have done, but he made no move to leave.

"You truly do look very unwell," he said "Is our next move truly so frightful?"

"What do you think it is?" she asked.

He took a moment to mull that over, his eyes lowering slightly and the cogs visibly turning behind them.

"I…should like to think that I might have helped Elizabeth escape. I'd go as far to wager that as a certainty, had…you not existed," he always phrased it so diplomatically - had he still been in love with her "But without my knowing of Beckett's true nature from you, I'm unsure."

"You would've worked it out for yourself. You seemed pretty tired of him by this point in the other outcome."

"But he would have still had the Governor."

"No. He would have dispensed with him pretty much as soon as you were on the Dutchman. Come to think of it, your absence would've had a lot to do with that. Elizabeth would have known it, she encountered him in Jones' locker and then told you of it after the fact. She's not exactly happy about it, obviously, and views you as a traitor. Here? In reality? She'll probably still view the both of us as traitors…but maybe she won't be as angry, given that she hasn't lost her dad."

Although he always took great pains to hide it, his discomfort always shone through in his eyes when she told him of the events she'd seen. Maybe it made it all real to him - that he didn't have a simple wife. Thankfully, he seemed pretty pleased by that most days. It was impossible to begrudge him his discomfort, too. If he was standing here spouting off some mysterious sequence of events that would see her pining after, oh, Jack or somebody, which all seemed to half come true, she'd be losing her bloody might right about now. Even more than she actually was.

"I never would have stayed loyal to Beckett after being informed thus," he murmured "She is to escape, then?"

"Yeah. It's a must, I'm afraid. She can't stay locked up here, or become Beckett's hostage. He has enough held over Will's head as it is. She's instrumental in what's to come."

James snorted "Of course she is. So that's why we had to be here. Who else might've helped her, otherwise?"

"Exactly."

"And us?"

"We need to go with her. Mercer seizes control of the Dutchman afterwards, and all that's really left is the final stand-off. If we stick around here, we put ourselves on the losing side."

Considering her words, the frown slowly began to furrow its way back into his brow.

"I understand, here and now, why that may be a necessity. I may even call it a necessary sacrifice, if it means we might live a free, safe life together after this. But in the version of events you know of? Where I am my only responsibility? I cannot imagine I would savour the prospect of a return to piracy. Was I happy about it?"

"No," she answered quietly "It wasn't very tempting for you."

"What did I do afterwards?"

"It's not shown. There's, uh, limited time allowed for these sorts of plays. They only have time to really fully wrap-up the core issues."

"I shall try not to be too bruised that I was not considered important enough for that, then," he said drily.

Theo gave a tight-lipped smile "Well, if it's any consolation, I'm not even in them at all."

"More fool them," he murmured "If it's what comes next that has you worried so, I wish you would not. We've gotten this far together. I do not doubt that we can take on whatever lies in wait next."

"You don't doubt it, eh?" she gave a small smile.

"Never," he said it like it was a vow.

Maybe it was. She supposed it was only fair to match it, then.

"Me neither," she said, and willed it to be true.

He regarded her for a long moment then and she tried not to fidget nervously under his gaze, remembering the time he'd told her that she was a terrible liar. She was trying not to be - not a terrible liar, but also not a liar in general. If she wanted to have any chance at succeeding, she had to believe she would. It was as simple, and as difficult, as that. But if a bit of belief for the next twelve hours or so could ensure success, she'd damn well do it.

Punctuating that determination, she stepped forward and moved up to the soles of her feet so she could press her lips against his. He returned the kiss readily, a hand snaking around her waist and to her back before smoothing upwards, stopping only when his hand lay between her shoulder blades and she could feel the warmth of his skin through the thin shirt rather than just a vague sensation of weight over the corset.

When she broke the kiss she didn't pull back, staying close as her nose brushed against his. Her eyes opened to find him already watching her, his green eyes hooded. He was wondering still - about what he'd worked out, but was good enough not to bring up ever since.

"It's going to be a shite-show of a night, but after that we'll be fine," she murmured "I don't doubt it, James."

She wanted to say more - to tell him she loved him, over and over and over again just to really make sure he knew, but if she hadn't made her fear obvious already, that certainly would. And anyway, she'd decided she would not be scared. She would have plenty of opportunities for confessions of love later. Because she was going to succeed. There was some comfort, at least, in how his features smoothed over a little at what he saw in her face now.

"I'm needed above deck," he sighed.

Dropping back until she was flat on her feet, she took half a step back. His hand didn't quite fall away from back, instead smoothing across her shoulder and down her arm until he held her hand, lifting her knuckles to his lips.

"I'll come up with you. I need a bit of air."

A few turns about the deck would limber her up for what was to come, too. Adrenaline was a hell of a drug, but she wasn't about to leave anything to chance, and she wasn't about to take on what was to come with stiff muscles.

"I want you below deck when the fighting starts. At least until it's over. We can take care of what comes after once we know more," he said.

Theo bowed her head in ascent, and he dropped her hand - but not after giving it a final squeeze.

Hattie was still by the door as they stepped out - although she was not alone, instead in conversation with one of James' younger officers.

"Admiral. Mrs Norrington," the lad greeted with a bow of his head.

Theo nodded in greeting, as did James, who quickly took his leave to return to his men while Theo lingered.

"I'm going above deck to stretch my legs," she said to Hattie "Are you coming?"

"I…have been asked to help with the laundry," Hattie said.

Of course. Why do it themselves when there was a woman aboard? Regardless of whether it was actually her job. Hattie didn't seem much offended by the request, though. Maybe because the lad who'd asked wasn't exactly bad looking - too young for Theo, he couldn't have been older than eighteen, all square jawed, blond haired and blue eyed. One of the lower ranking men, not that it meant much to her.

"Do you want to help with the laundry?" she asked.

"If you've no need for me, mistress," Hattie replied.

It wasn't a bad turn of events. Hattie deserved a little fun - just a bit of harmless flirting to put her nerves at ease. The lad would keep her safe, and Theo could get some air in solitude, which would be ideal

"All right. But you and Mr…"

"Gray, Mrs Norrington," he said.

He seemed uncomfortable looking at her as he answered. Whether that was because of her witchy status, or her outfit choice was difficult to say.

"Gray," she nodded "Stay where I can find you. We're in for trouble."

The boy looked alarmed at that, forcing her to add "Or so my husband tells me. Not a prophecy, don't worry."

Hattie, at least, laughed at that.

The sun was already beginning to set when Theo stepped into daylight above deck. It almost had her heart sinking, until she firmly reminded herself that she wasn't going to do that anymore, and instead squared her shoulders and focused on steadying her breathing so that she might subsequently clear her mind.

It was a pretty evening, at least. So long as she kept her eyes firmly on the horizon - or even directly up at the sky, gazing at the shades of orange, red and pink strewn amongst the sparsest amount of clouds - she might pretend it was a nice evening. But then one of Jones' men would snarl or grunt or spit, and the effect would be ruined somewhat.

It was on her third turn about the deck when her resolution to be calm and to feel now doubt finally seemed to travel from her brain to the rest of her, her shoulders finally dropping and her breaths feeling like they were really going in. The next few hours wouldn't go well unless she was thinking clearly. If she thought clearly, she knew she'd succeed. She knew it, goddamnit. So she wasn't going to arse this all up through something as utterly idiotic as being unable to stop panicking. She wasn't that stupid.

And her conversation with James had helped, for he had a point. At this point it was difficult not to look back at all they'd survived, individually and together. Her day adrift at sea, her hare-brained decision to rough it in the jungle afterwards. The good people of Port Royal. Barbossa's attack, being marooned, and the battle that followed. Running off to Tortuga and selling fortunes. Being held prisoner on this very ship, the skirmish for the heart that followed, and then being adrift for a second time. And then, more recently, everything to do with Beckett - including sneaking Jack and the Governor out from right under his nose. It was a testament to what a shit that man was that all he brought about somehow felt more difficult than all that came beforehand.

Pausing by the ship's rail, Theo looked down at her hands - wedding band and all - and mused over the fact that somehow, since arriving here, she'd become a totally different person without noticing the transformation when it was happening at all. It might've been discomfiting - maybe it should have been - but it wasn't. It was reassuring. When looked at objectively, without her own personal fear and dread (still shoved back, removed and disallowed now), what was about to occur tonight was really no challenge at all when one thought of all that had come before it. James was right. They'd survived all of that. They could survive this. They would survive this. She was so sure of it that she almost wanted to laugh at herself for being so scared up until now.

A calm sort of focus took over her then, truly took over right down to the bone, rather than being something she tenuously gripped onto and tried to maintain. Theo wondered if this was how her dad used to feel before he went off to do his duty - risky missions that would be deemed mad by anybody else, that he had never and could never give her the details of. She imagined so. Maybe it was fitting that she'd never be able to give him the details of what she was doing now. But she intended to make him proud.

A/N: The time is upon us lads ;_;

On an entirely different technical matter - I'm a big dumb and it turns out stays and corsets are slightly different things, and everything that I should have been referring to as stays in this story are what I've been calling corsets. However, they call them corsets in the actual movies, and I figure Theo wouldn't know the difference and would also view them as corsets, so I win via lucky technicality. So really I shouldn't be pointing this out in the note and showing myself up for the fraud that I am, but hey ho, transparency and all that. I did use the correct word in the chapter before the previous one, but I'm sticking with corsets from hereon despite having learned better, just for the sake of continuity.

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