A/N: I put it to a vote over on my IG stories asking whether people want me to release chapters on a schedule of once per week (potentially stockpiling them if I finish some early) to stretch out what's left to go, or if I should just post them as soon as they're finished. The vote ended up being split 50/50 down the middle which made me laugh, but I figure I'll meet halfway and rather than having one set update day, I'll just say weekends are my update time for this fic from now til the end. Kinda helps that despite all that, this one nearly ended up being late because a certain scene or two ended up being way longer than I planned, but I'm too committed to my 100/101 chapter count now to break things up lolol.
Despite his weariness - physical and emotional both - James could not help but smile at the skiff as it drifted over from the Paladin to the Black Pearl. Governor Weatherby Swann sat inside, already leaning forward to keenly search the group gathered at the rail of the ship for a glimpse of his daughter. Elizabeth's joy outshone James by far, breaking out into a wide beaming grin and calling out to him almost before he was even in earshot. It stood in sharp contrast to the glare one of her men received when he was foolish enough to draw his gun, untrusting of the skiff as it drew nearer.
Governor Swann was first to climb up onto the ship - despite the urging of the soldiers in the skiff to allow them to go first - followed by the man James recognised as Governor Byam. Elizabeth ran to her father, enveloping him in a hug the moment he stood soundly on the deck of the Pearl. Theodora's face showed little other than a guarded sort of worry over this unexpected development, but he knew the reunion must have been difficult for her to witness, and he lifted a hand to gently rest at the centre of her back. Noting the way she trembled and swayed beneath his palm, he turned to the nearest man - one he recognised as Pintel.
"Fetch a barrel for her to sit on, and a blanket - a dry one."
The man regarded him with a curled lip "This ain't your ship, Admiral-"
"Do what he said," Sparrow commanded gruffly, watching the two Governors with narrowed eyes.
The ship may not have been James', but it was his, and Pintel obeyed his captain's orders with a great deal of stifled grumbling. If Theodora's agreement to moving below deck hadn't been indicator enough that her strength was beginning to falter - however far she stubbornly endeavoured to push it - the fact that she now offered no argument about being able to stand cemented it. The true question in James' mind, although it wasn't a pressing one, was whether Sparrow's concern was genuine. Any other time, he'd have said no - because Theodora's weakness did make for markedly good optics before the Governors. And he still hadn't thoroughly forgiven him for handing her to Jones all that time ago, either.
But there was no feigning the sorrow that had taken hold of his features when he thought her dead - nor the concern hidden behind his usual inane jokes when they saw her current sorry shape during Beckett's parlay. For the first time ever, James found himself warming to Sparrow. He was sure it wouldn't last long.
"Where is Admiral Norrington?" Governor Byam was asking, paying little mind to the emotional reunion occurring right before his eyes "Admiral Norrington? Is he present?"
It was a title that might once have brought him an endless amount of pride - and it would have therefore irked him to hear the title that he'd now been stripped of still used so stubbornly to address him, mockingly by the pirates, and now in earnest by the governor. It still irked him now, truth be told, but only because he wanted no part in it. It had cost him too much, and done precious little good.
The crowd gathered on deck parted automatically, opening up a clear path between them and Byam. He doubted that Theodora meant to shrink into his side as she did, recent experiences having likely made her distrustful both of the other side and of dour older men in dark clothing, It still made his heart clench and renewed his anger all the same. Considering it already threatened to set him ablaze, quelled little by the fatigue that the battle had laden him with, that latter part was quite a feat in itself.
Byam's gaze followed the path that was cleared, recognition flickering in his eyes - but only faintly, like he thought he'd seen him before but couldn't quite place him. They had met before, but years ago. He hadn't even been Commodore then, simply a promising young Captain, and Byam no doubt met countless of those. If he did know him, it would be by reputation alone. It was that reputation which James now relied on, for it had been a very good one once. His eyes moved to Theodora next, and then he looked very grave indeed, for only an idiot would think her injuries were the sort that could be sustained in battle, and Byam was no idiot.
"God above - Mrs Norrington?" Governor Swann parted from his daughter, answering the question Byam had not yet asked "Beckett did this?"
Pintel returned with the requested barrel and blanket, and James helped Theodora slowly lower herself down onto it, gripping her forearm so as not to aggravate her hand. By the time she was sitting as comfortably as they could hope for, both Governors had approached.
"Mercer, technically," Theodora made a face "On Beckett's orders."
"You know that for a fact?"
"Beckett was still aboard the Dutchman when it happened. I…" she hesitated and then finally admitted sourly "I begged him to withdraw the order."
James was certain his teeth would soon crack under the strength with which he clenched his jaw. The image of Beckett's undoubtedly smug face while Theodora begged for mercy and Mercer began closing in…he was going to kill that man. Whatever it took. If only he could resurrect Mercer and kill him again, too. Several times over, preferably, so that James might exhaust the list of ways he'd really like to make both men suffer.
Even pulling the blanket about herself proved difficult her grip clumsy as she tried to avoid the fabric brushing against the raw skin of her fingertips.
"And why, may I ask, did he give the order?" Byam asked.
Theodora hesitated, and then she murmured "He wanted to know what I know."
"What you know?" Byam was not content to let her be vague "And what is it that you know, madam?"
"I-just…things. How they'll happen. The future."
"It seems an absurdity to ask, but given the times that we find ourselves in…" Byam said, slowly turning his gaze to James.
Over Byam's shoulder, Governor Swann gave James a pointed look - one that years of friendship allowed James to read instantly.
"My wife is…afflicted, sir. Usually it is minor - manageable. A storm will hit tomorrow, or one of our friends is about to have a nasty fall. That sort of thing. Perfectly mundane, and when it does not happen she is calmed. But with times being what they are, her fancies have taken on an extreme tone, and Beckett? Beckett will stop at nothing, will stoop to anything, if he believes he may benefit from it. He cast her delusion as destiny, and decided to pry more of them from her in his madness. This is the result."
"And where were you when she was being tortured? You sat outside waiting for him to finish and then took your leave after, is that right?"
James felt his face pale with fury - and no small amount of shame - but he held firm to his self control.
"I thought her dead, Governor Byam. What you see here was not the first wound inflicted."
The older man's eyes trailed over her bloodied shirt, his eyes betraying the deep thought he was in.
"Beckett decided I'd outlived my usefulness, tried to have me killed. James thought he'd succeeded and managed to escape himself. It was information on that escape that he tried to pry from me this morning," she flexed the fingers of her bad hand to illustrate her point "...and then returned me to my loved ones this morning, to try and dampen morale before the fight."
"Has he gone mad?" Byam breathed, shaking his head "Torturing a woman and taking hysteria as fact? Bad form - it's bad form indeed."
Theodora's back tensed beneath his hand - he could feel it even through the blanket - at the 'hysterical' comment, but too much was at stake here for her to afford getting irked by the differences between their times now. She seemed to recognise that, of course she recognised that, and the slight tensing was the only reaction she offered.
"Have you any other witnesses to this? I trust your word, but the word of one couple and one lieutenant will not be enough to convince everybody."
"Governor Swann witnessed his behaviour before we orchestrated his escape," James pointed out.
"Which will help, but Beckett has many friends in low and high places both."
"Hattie," Theodora murmured.
"What?" Byam frowned.
"Our maid - Harriet," James clarified "She was aboard when it happened, and in Beckett's payroll as she worked for us, such was the depths of his paranoia. She saw it all."
As he spoke, Elizabeth stepped away and made for the stairs that would lead below deck, no doubt to go and seek her out.
"Will that do?" James asked frankly "I'm sure more of his own men and crew will step forth when we begin speaking out - at the moment, they likely only fear for their position should nothing come of this. But with Port Royal and Antigua both stepping forward…"
"It should be enough. If not to put an end to his political ambitions, then certainly to cease any violence today. Let us all resume the fight when the side of immoral contains the immoral, and the side of good does not torture women - addled or otherwise."
James' lips thinned despite himself, for despite how he knew they needed Byam to believe this, he hardly wanted to see his wife insulted and denounced as a lunatic immediately following sacrifice, torture, and battle.
"Forgive me," it was more of a command than an apology, the man noticing the unimpressed look on his face, but it was still a lot coming from Byam "This is a troubling turn of events, and I would see it remedied as quickly as possible before our reputation on these waters is blackened forever."
"As would I," James conceded.
"What is it you intend to do about dear ol' Cutler, then? Give 'im a slap on the wrist and an order to go home - without supper, perhaps?" Sparrow inevitably grew tired of keeping quiet and letting the adults discuss a way forward aboard his own ship.
The withering look Byam fixed Sparrow betrayed his opinion on his interjection - but, true to form, Sparrow didn't so much as blink in response to it. In fact, he grinned. The smile remained on his face as Byam answered, although he directed the answer to James as if he'd been the one to pose the question.
"We shall have to have you repeat this testimony of yours aboard the Endeavour - for all of the soldiers on the other side to hear, mine and Beckett's both. That's the only way the men not under Beckett's sway may step forth, and the only way they might believe your testimony without painting it as the pirates spouting falsehoods in the face of likely defeat."
"Admiral Norrington is one of the most respected soldiers on these waters," Governor Swann said "His should be more than enough."
"Which is why I currently stand on the Black Pearl hearing it," Byam pointed out "But he must level these charges at Beckett himself, in reputable company, if all is to be above board and proper. There's been a frightening lack of that as of late, and with God as my witness I will not perpetuate it!"
Theodora shifted as though making to stand, but James smoothed his hand from her back up to her shoulder, silently urging her to remain seated.
"My wife is not up to the journey, but I shall go and do as you wish, Governor Byam," he said.
"What? James, no," Theodora argued, relishing the concept of another separation about as much as he did "I can-"
It was then that Elizabeth returned with Hattie, who was pale and somewhat dishevelled but otherwise appeared well - and not, thankfully, on the verge of swooning.
"I will take Hattie with me," he said, and then added "If she is amenable."
He would not suggest it if he couldn't be certain of her safety - he was hoping Theodora and Hattie both would realise that without it needing to be spelled out. His hopes were realised when both women shared a look, and finally nodded. Theodora's nod was far more begrudging than Hattie's, but he knew that even she recognised her limits when forced to contend with them, and she likely dreaded the prospect of navigating herself in and out of a skiff about as much as he liked the idea of watching her attempt to do so.
"Good. See to your wife then, and do it swiftly sir. Afterwards, join us in the skiff so that we might get this damnable mess straightened out," Byam nodded.
Having been given his marching orders, James knew there was little left to do other than to obey. If it would put an end to his fight, one that their chance of winning was tenuous at best, it would be worth it. However much he loathed the idea of leaving her yet again. But if doing so would ensure her life, it was all he could do.
Hoping to prove to her that he was now confident it would not come to a battle - and not overly fond of stowing her below deck on a ship full of pirates, half of whom he scarcely knew - he lifted her into his arms and brought her back to the hospital cabin.
"I don't like this, James," she murmured once Byam was out of earshot "I don't like it at all."
"I'm not overly fond of it myself," he confessed "But you must stay here. You cannot take the journey - you know you can't, not without time to rest first, and we don't have that luxury. Think about how it looks, too. If we both go sailing merrily to the other side, those on other ships may think we're defecting. They'll panic, and they'll act rashly. Your continued presence here does as much for our cause as mine going to the Endeavour does."
"Our cause now, is it?" she breathed a laugh.
"Yours and mine," he clarified "That of the pirates can rot once we part ways, for all I care."
They were the lesser evil in this particular fight, that much he could accept. But he was hardly going to be swept away by romantic notions of their being rough-hewn heroes venturing out of the line of conformity for some noble cause. He'd lived in Tortuga. It was not an experience he'd soon forget, and he could only be thankful that he'd had Theodora there. He shuddered at the thought of this strange, fictional iteration of himself who was not so lucky.
"The pirates will know that I'll do all I can for them on the other side, so long as you remain here. I'll argue for Governor Swann to remain, too. I doubt he'll wish to be parted from his daughter so soon after reuniting."
He could have cursed himself for speaking so thoughtlessly afterwards, but if the words had aggravated some not-so-new wounds, she did not show it. And then a new voice broke in from the doorway behind them.
"My father's staying. He just told Governor Byam outside," Elizabeth spoke.
James did not respond - he didn't even look at her, helping Theodora to recline back on the damp bed.
"You should change into dry clothing, if any might be found. You're much too cold," he was fussing like a mother hen, but he couldn't help it.
"Just need to put my feet up for a minute," she mumbled, wincing as she tried to get comfortable.
She would not beg him to stay. That much was fact. She hadn't done so in Port Royal, and he knew she wouldn't do so now. But when his hand slipped from behind her back, her good hand shot out and caught it, holding fast. It was not a plea - it wasn't even a request. James doubted it was even a conscious decision, more an instinctive urge to grab him and keep him close. It was an urge he was familiar with. He felt it every time he looked at her.
And it was what had him making a promise he ordinarily never would - one no soldier ever should.
"Theodora," he knelt by the side of her bed "I will come back. You have my word."
It wasn't the usual sort of placation he'd comfortably give. I'll do everything in my power, we've faced worse and been reunited afterwards, the odds are in our favour. No, it was a promise. A sworn vow - and a solemn one, at that. He would return. Beckett could greet him with fifty rifles all aimed at his head, and he would return. That was simply a fact.
The breath she took in was a shaky one, slowly peeling her fingers one by one away from his hand - but he caught it as she made to withdraw, and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. Then another, slower one to her lips. Finally, he stood on legs that already ached with fatigue, and when he met her gaze he endeavoured to tell himself that the tears threatening to shine in her eyes were to do more with pain and fatigue than any doubt to do with his words.
He'd have never been able to take his leave otherwise.
When James stepped out of the cabin, Theo felt ridiculous for how emotional she was. Try as she might to use exhaustion - the emotional sort and the physical kind both at once - as an explanation, her mind furiously conjured up images of things on the Endeavour going hopelessly askew the moment James and Hattie set foot aboard. But he'd been right. Of course he'd been right. There was no other way. He had to go, she had to stay, and it was the only thing that could possibly end this without it coming to an all out battle. So she just had to hope that the rest of what he'd said was right, too. That he would come back. James Norrington was not a man who broke his word.
Elizabeth stepped in a moment after James left, her arms bundled with dry clothing that she must've sent one of her shiny new pirate subjects to acquire from below deck. Theo was too preoccupied with the shivers that wracked her to even stop and think about how she might manage to change. It wasn't cold - she knew it wasn't, she'd barely been bloody well cold since she'd woken up in the Caribbean, and a Port Royal winter was still miles hotter than an Irish summer, but that didn't change the fact that she felt absolutely freezing. Her feet felt like great big blocks of ice in her boots, and even the burning of her fingertips on her right hand had a weird icy prickle to it now. At least the clench of her jaw warded off any chattering her teeth tried to do.
"Theo- er, Theodora, please let me help you," Elizabeth said softly "It's not half so cold that you should be shaking like this, and you'll never warm up unless you dry off."
She was too cold and tired to be very proud - nor to reject the desire her once and perhaps future friend had to make amends. When she put up no fuss, Elizabeth stepped forward. It took a bit of doing to wrestle the chair out from where it wedged the door open, and Theo almost laughed when she managed to get it shut anyway, given that there were great big holes in the wall. The laughter stopped when it came time to peel the shirt away from her burn.
Elizabeth gasped her horror, and then made a valiant show of trying to recover, shaking her head as she pulled the last of the fabric that had gotten stuck away, taking only a minimal amount of skin with it.
"Oh, Theo…" she breathed.
"Fuck ugly, isn't it?" Theo muttered in return.
"No - no, it's not that…it…it just looks very painful."
"Mm. That, too."
"It should be bound," she commented quietly.
She was right. It should have been, but given they'd had neither the time nor the materials to boil any potential dressing, and the last thing she'd wanted was for the burns to get infected, she'd been forced to make do. Wasn't saltwater meant to be a good cleaning agent, anyway? She'd used saline on her ears when she'd had them pierced. Then again, that had been a specifically mixed solution from a bottle, not sea water doused over her by an angry pagan goddess, so maybe there was a slight difference. One, for instance, was more likely than the other to have fish pee in it.
Shimmying her out of the breeches was more difficult still, to the point where she was almost tempted to insist that she just leave them on, but they were so loaded with seawater that they now threatened to chafe her skin red raw if she continued wearing them, and she couldn't handle the thought of more pain. She was so focused on just gritting her teeth and bearing it, leaning far forward so she could shimmy the breeches down her hips, that when Elizabeth let loose another gasp it took her a moment to realise why.
"Is that…is that a tattoo? When did you-"
"A couple of centuries from now. I'm not a witch, and I don't have visions, I'm from the future. Well, a version of the future - one where all of this is a well known story and you're all characters in that story. I woke up adrift after I touched some magic stones, which was the handiwork of an ancient Irish goddess, and then I met James, who was fated to die last night. Fell in love, inconveniently, and abandoned my plans to head home for the time being in favour of saving his life. Then he fell in love back, a bit more conveniently, and my plans to stay became permanent," pausing, she winced and then shrugged "I think that's the long and short of it. Might've missed a few details."
"I…you're not joking, are you? My god, Theo, you're serious?!"
"Mm. Used to have proof, but Jones took it - and then he gave it to Beckett, in a really cunty move, even by his standards."
"Beckett knows?"
"Now he does, yeah."
"Who else?"
"Jack. He was the first I told - only way I could get him to keep me around. Will…" she hesitated, not wanting to stir up discontent between them, despite everything "Will overheard, but I made him swear not to tell you. Bootstrap knows. Jones did."
"Why?"
"Something about the ability to travel between worlds giving him more of an insight into what those worlds are than most-"
"No, why did you make Will swear not to tell me?"
"It's the kind of secret that brings more bad than good," she sucked in a breath through her teeth as the breeches were peeled away from her legs "Can't swing a sword around here without grazing somebody who'd only be too happy to torture anybody who might have information on the future. At least if they thought I was a seer, they'd be more likely to think I'm mad. Laugh at anybody who took me seriously."
They stopped when they reached her Docs, much too bulky to be pulled over them, and she could only sit back and feel like a right tit as Elizabeth unlaced them for her.
"Norrington took you seriously, though."
"Once presented with proof."
"I think it speaks worlds about how much he loves you - he'd have never tolerated such a thing from another, whether he actually believed them or not."
One boot thumped down to the floor, and Theo scoffed. Elizabeth regarded her with wide eyes.
"He does, Theo - you know he does, anybody with eyes can see it."
"I know," Theo confirmed "He does. But you obviously don't think so, do you?"
"What? Of course I do!"
"Yeah. The deep sort of all-consuming love that can be completely forgotten with a kiss from another woman. So long as it's the right woman, I s'pose. And hey, who could question your wisdom in thinking the woman who once knew he was going to propose to her before he even actually did it would be the right one?"
"It wasn't like that, Theo, it wasn't-"
"Maybe not, but the thought wouldn't even cross my mind were it me and Will in that position, you know? And yet it did yours. So some part of you obviously thinks that."
"It doesn't," she protested "I don't know why I…I didn't think."
"Yeah," she huffed a laugh "I know what the people in Port Royal say about me, you know. I do my best not to care. They don't know the truth about me, maybe if they did they'd still say all of the same stuff because I'm common as muck even back home and I will always be very Irish, and usually I'm fine with that, usually I'm proud of that even, but I do know it, Elizabeth. I hear it. That…that I was a consolation prize. That my deficiencies in polite society are probably made up for in the bedroom, which is why he chose me. I struggle to really decide whether that's more or less flattering than the theory that I bewitched him, it sort of depends on the day and how much of a sense of humour I have on that day. But I hear it. And I brush it off, because they don't know him as well as they like to think, and they really don't know me."
She had to pause for breath when the trembling that had overtaken her entire body threatened to be more emotional than purely physiological, taking in a few attempts at calming breaths before she continued.
"But you do. And you still thought…" she shook her head "Well. It was an eye opener, wasn't it? Yet another person who thinks my husband is sitting around waiting for Elizabeth Swann to crook her finger at him so he can leave me in the dust. Nice. Only it was worse from you, because it was you. From anybody else I'd have been over it by now, but you? The person everybody bar me, him, you, Will, and who knows, maybe Jack, actually wants him to be with? It just…it hurts. Bloody pathetic as it is."
Guilt almost filled her when tears threatened to fog Elizabeth's gaze. It would just be yet another addition to how she felt like shit - in addition to the pain, and now the mortification of having this whole sorry pathetic conversation while she was half-naked, her injuries and soon-to-be scars on show for the woman she was so often compared to - the very one who, even now, somehow managed to look like she'd barely been through anything more strenuous than a wild night out.
Clenching her jaw through the pain, she took up the dry shirt and tugged it over her head, not waiting for any help. The breeches she couldn't manage alone, but at least her legs were unscathed.
"It wasn't like that," Elizabeth tried again when it became clear she wouldn't say more "I don't think that. I didn't think at all, I panicked. Theo, I've…I've known James for a very long time. He came with us to Port Royal from England. And I don't think I've ever seen him so angry as he was with me last night, not ever, not with anybody - and I deserved it! But it wasn't a plan, not one with any coherent thought, nor one with any…any presumptions to it. The story you'd told me about Jack and I was fresh in my mind, and when I drew a blank as to how to make him leave with me, it was all my mind would give me. That was it."
She paused then, maybe expecting an argument, but when she didn't get one she pushed ahead.
"It was a moment of panic and of stupidity, Theo, and I'd have gone the rest of my life regretting it if you'd died on that balcony. I may yet still, seeing what happened to you afterwards. If I'd have done something differently, anything differently, we might have all gotten away unscathed. I just couldn't risk that not happening, and James being hurt, because I knew you'd never recover from that, much in the same way I thought he'd never recover when we thought that you'd…" she trailed off and then sighed "I'm sorry. I really, really am - if I could undo it, I would, and it's shockingly poor repayment for what you did for my father. Apologies are all I have, and they feel like laughably little, along with assurances that he didn't kiss me back - not for a second, I was already thinking of what I could possibly try next before you arrived."
"I dread to think," Theo said drily.
Elizabeth's mouth hung open in response to that - but something in her features softened when she realised it was a joke and not an attack, nor even an admonishment. Then, upon realising it, she smiled gingerly before continuing.
"It wasn't what you think it was. Not the act itself, nor the thought behind it. There was no thought behind it. That was the problem," she finished "And if you'd rather our friendship ended here because of it, then I'm not sure I can be angry about it because I'd be spitting fire were I in your shoes right now, but…but if you don't want that, then I'd very much like you to attend my wedding. Once we've gotten these breeches on you. Or not, perhaps, if that's…more befitting your…time."
Now it was Theo's turn to return the tentative smile, although it took a moment for the full meaning of her words to sink in.
"Your wedding?" she blinked.
"Jack's agreed to do it - here and now. Well, soon, not immediately. Today. I don't need the big to-do, not anymore, my father's here, and…I just want it done. I just want to be married to Will. I want to be his wife - yesterday, preferably."
Theo nodded. That made sense. She'd felt much the same thing in the dinghy, even if necessity had spurred her on.
"I hope you don't think we're copying you," Elizabeth hedged, apparently nervous at not having been given an answer.
Or maybe she just wanted to prevent any awkward silence from sinking in as she began the arduous process of helping her into the dry breeches.
"Not at all - we copied you. Kind of. You would have…well. Barbossa. During the battle."
"During?"
"My existence robbed you of some very exciting nuptials."
"I don't mind, so long as you forgive me. Have I mentioned that I'm so very sorry?"
"Once or twice," she sighed "But…the ends justified the means. Or at least they would have. And I believe you."
She did believe her, too. Thoroughly. Mostly because she was telling her things she already knew on some level or another, it was just a sort of unfortunate coincidence that Elizabeth's actions had aggravated some ageing but still very tender wounds. And not just the ones that were complaining very loudly to her as she finally got the breeches over her hips and buttoned them. Good lord, didn't somebody around here have an opium pipe?
"Good. Good. Oh, I'm so glad. It was a such a relief to see that you'd found one another in Tortuga - truly, it was. So if I thought for even a second that I'd done something to…to interfere with that…"
"If a three century age difference can't manage it, neither can this," Theo pointed out.
Elizabeth smiled somewhat nervously, bowing her head. And then, finally, she extended her arms to her in offerance of a hug. Theo accepted it, and pretended very hard that she wasn't almost crying all over again. It would only make lacing up her boots a total nightmare.
When the skiff bobbed up beside the Endeavour, any satisfaction that James had wrung out of his encounter with Mercer was almost entirely forgotten, every muscle in his body tensed into solid steel as though sensing Beckett's proximity. It only worsened once he was on deck and met the gaze of the man - by which point he was sure he was going to tear something if he didn't forcibly relax. He couldn't help it, the look on his face nothing less than pure and utter loathing of the likes he'd never felt before.
Beckett blinked under it. That was all, a simple blink. But the smirk that affixed his face afterwards was just ever so slightly forced, and James liked to think that he only managed it in the first place because he knew that James' hands were tied so long as Byam stood in their presence. Or so he thought. James still wasn't convinced he could not find some manner of opportunity here. He was a resourceful man, he'd find a way.
There was one man, at least, who he was happy to see. Groves stood by Beckett's side, his hands behind his back and his expression solemn but otherwise unreadable. James offered him a nod in greeting, knowing he had him to thank for this.
"Now, if you might repeat before these men what you told me aboard the Black Pearl, Admiral Norrington," Byam spoke loudly, as though addressing a hall full of men, signifying how James himself should speak.
But before he had a chance to, Beckett was interrupting "I believe it's Mr Norrington now. We don't tend to let those who commit treason retain their titles. Nor do we listen to their tall tales."
"Nor do we torture the lady wives of our men, Lord Beckett, and yet here we are," James ground out in response, his voice and eyes both brimming with venom.
"Lady. We're using the term rather liberally, are we not? How is Mrs Norrington? When last we spoke, she didn't appear to have long left. No doubt you and Miss Swann are counting down the minutes until you're named widower."
James' hand was at his sword and he was stepping forward before he'd even truly made his mind up to do so, but Groves was on him in a flash, springing forward and talking him down with a firm hand on his shoulder.
"This is what he wants. Why else should he talk like this before Governor Byam? There is a way for you to achieve your goal, but it is not this way," he spoke quietly but intently.
And he was right. Much as James loathed to admit it.
"Stay your blade, man, and we'll settle this like men," Governor Byam, for his part, was visibly losing patience with their bickering.
Nostrils flaring as he seized control of his breathing, and his temper by extension, James forced his hands away from his blade, clenching them into white-knuckled fists at his side instead as he took stock of the situation. Groves' hand slipped from his shoulder, and he returned to stand by Beckett. Governor Byam's ship, the Paladin, was still side-by-side with the Endeavour, the gangplank still in place at the side of the ship opposite to the one he'd just climbed up. Byam's men, at least the ones not standing by the Governor now, all lined the ship's rail, watching the proceedings with keen and undisguised interest. Even the bulk of Beckett's own men crowded the deck of the Endeavour, apparently having been rounded up to witness these proceedings. James recognised many of them - some who had been loyal to him before Beckett's arrival in Port Royal, and others who had at least been obedient and respectful thereafter. Many were likely in Beckett's pocket, but he didn't dislike those odds. They were wont to leap out when they realised how shallow those pockets were becoming.
The crowd was Byam's doing, no doubt, for Beckett would never willingly have an audience for this. No, he'd been forced into a position of being entirely unable to argue. Taking a smug sort of delight in that, James straightened his back, and began telling his tale. It was a modified tale, of course - one he'd spun together on the journey from the Pearl, but one that was rooted in truth enough to be believable. It helped somewhat that the truth itself was unbelievable, and the lie far more feasible - one of a man who was so desperate to achieve his goals that he latched onto a woman with feeble wits (he'd apologise profusely to Theodora for that later) and grew obsessed with her fantasies so long as they saw him successful.
They painted a grim picture - so grim that the affronted laughs Beckett gave at each new accusation levelled his way grew more and more strained with each peal. As James drew his story to a close, though, a wave of genius had him coming up with something that was sure to take the smile, even fake as it was, from his face. Perhaps more importantly (albeit not quite so satisfyingly) it would also likely be the final straw for the men on the sidelines - the ones who almost looked tempted to speak up, but unsure as to whether doing so would be worth the risk.
"Finally, he saw her returned to me - only after resorting to torture, to pry yet more fantasies out of her to assuage his own ego. I don't suppose, Governor Byam, that Lord Beckett shared his reasoning for returning my wife to me?"
"I thought that traitors ought to die together," Beckett said coldly.
His grip had tightened so on the handle of his cane that his knuckles were as white as his wig.
"You told me so yourself, Admiral Norrington, it was so you might see what had been done. To demoralise you," Byam pointed out.
"Yes," James said stonily "In part."
Beckett's face joined his knuckles in turning dangerously white.
"Enough with the dramatics, spit it out," Byam said impatiently.
"Lord Beckett terrorised our maid into acting as an informant for him," James said "Which was how he ascertained that my wife was with child before we set sail. His treatment of her since then, however, assured that this was no longer the case. That was his primary reason for returning Theodora to me - so that he might gloat over his murdering what would have been our firstborn babe."
Conjuring a look of suitable hatred to his face was easily done. Not only because it was what Beckett believed he had done, but because Theodora's cries of pain as he burned her wound shut still replayed in his mind, echoing between the walls of his skull over and over until he was glad at having to tell his tale in a shout because it almost drowned it out. The only pitfall was Groves, whose eyes widened and lips parted in unspoken horror. Even that, however, may yet prove useful - if there was debate over whether James was still their Admiral, Groves was still Lieutenant, having earned the respect of the men through work and leadership where Beckett tried to buy it with coin. Perhaps Groves' subordinates would match his horror. It seemed a small price to pay for victory.
"Have any others a comment to pass on this matter?" Byam spoke up, addressing the men stationed on the Endeavour now - all of whom had previously been stationed about Port Royal.
A young lad opened his mouth, and then promptly snapped it shut again.
"Richards," Groves barked "Speak up lad."
If the lad hadn't made his mind up to speak under Groves' glare, he did when he met James'.
"She…she vomited, Governor Byam, sir. After visiting Sparrow in Port Royal's sickhouses."
"On Beckett's orders," James added stonily "Which he told her not to repeat to me."
"Oh this is preposterous," Beckett scoffed "I made no such order, if she framed it thus then it's the sign of a guilty conscien-"
"She almost swooned during a spell of hangings recently," Groves added "She became quite beside herself at the sight. It hardly suggests one with keen political ambition and insight, supernatural involvement or no."
"Why would one with such apparently overly delicate sensibilities attend a hanging in the first place? Another vision, was it?" Byam asked.
"Lord Beckett's obsession with my wife by that point had grown to such an extent that he ordered she remain in his presence throughout the entirety of each working day, lest he be subject to a delay in hearing her newest vision," James supplied.
Beckett, whose anger thus far tended to take the form of mild annoyance, even if it delved deeper than that below the surface, was staring at him with pure cold fury, his nostrils flaring and his lips pursed. It had James trying very hard not to smile.
"Mr Norrington is a liar, Governor Byam," Beckett snapped "He'd made it clear that his wife could not be trusted in his charge, and so I took her into mine to ensure that she could no longer hinder the cause of the King."
It was entirely possible that Governor Byam might have believed him, were it not for his parroting about the King once again, as though anybody would believe it by this point. The unfortunate fact was that Beckett was so used to being around those who believed him thanks to his money, power, and the fear he garnered, that he was unused to being in the presence of one who was not swayed by any of those three.
"But it wasn't a case of mere observation."
Hattie had been so silent up until this point that James had entirely forgotten her presence, so focused on his hatred for the man before him. But when she spoke, the silence around them seemed suddenly deafening. Turning, James regarded her and them stepped aside so he would not hinder their audience's view of her. She was nervous, it was clear, wringing her hands together with a furrowed brow, but not half so nervous as he would have expected her to be. There was no trembling, no stuttering, and when she looked from Beckett to Byam she did not flinch.
"Lord Beckett ordered that I keep an eye on the Norringtons, Governor sir - that I report back to him on…on all matters. Private matters, too. What they spoke about, whether they were having any disagreements, anything that he believed may be useful to him at some point or another."
"To keep an eye on two people who had very recently been pirates," Beckett spat out each word.
"It soon became clear that no information was not an option, Governor," Hattie rose her voice to speak over him - although it now threatened to shake somewhat "I went to him saying that there was nothing of note happening in the house, that they were just- just like any other married couple, that I saw no cause for concern. He threatened to have me replaced in the household by somebody who could bring him information of use. It wasn't mere observation, it was…digging. With a purpose. When I feared for my safety I - I'm sorry, Admiral Norrington - I told him of Mrs Norrington's expectancy. He was pleased. He thought he'd be able to use it - to manipulate them with it, in some way or another."
"Falsehoods and manipulations. Spoken precisely like one who owes her loyalty to the couple in question," Beckett sneered.
"And yet she still told you our business, out of fear of you," James countered "Governor Byam, this is the brand of man who has seized control of Port Royal - one who threatens and terrifies maids so that they might do his bidding in the homes of his men. One who exacerbates sickness of the mind so long as it soothes his pride. One who tortures women, and murders children not yet even born, so he might gain the upper hand. One who makes pirates appear charitable, when the good folk are forced to flee his machinations. And he does it, purportedly, in the King's name, not content merely with blackening his own reputation."
If looks were capable of killing, James would be stone dead on the deck that very moment. But behind Beckett, Groves pursed his lips, his brow furrowed and his gaze directed downward. James recognised that expression well enough - it often took over his face some time ago when he had to pretend not to find Sparrow's antics impressive.
A moment passed, and then another, until he almost wanted to seize Byam by the shoulders and demand he see sense - although such a display was not likely to help his cause, which stayed his hand in the end. Then, finally, Byam spoke.
"I have heard quite enough, all of it excessively troubling. Lord Beckett, stand your men down. We shall reconvene at Port Royal and take stock of the facts - after which we shall strongly consider what your future in these waters looks like, if indeed it exists at all."
Byam turned his back to James as he made to leave the ship, unconcerned whether Beckett had an answer to his decision, and that was when he finally did allow himself to smile - a wide, dangerous grin in Beckett's direction, which resembled more of a wolf baring its fangs than any true display of happiness. In hindsight, that display was likely the deciding factor in what Beckett did next. His cane clattered to the deck as he dropped it in favour of whirling around and pulling Groves' pistol from his belt with a surprising swiftness considering his lack of experience in actual battle.
It was that swiftness which caught Groves off-guard, leaving James alone to react and spring forward as Beckett lifted the gun and pointed it at Governor Byam's back.
A/N: One last cliffhanger? For old time's sake? Hehe?