A/N: So I got an ask on Tumblr asking a question about the main story that I definitely should've explained long ago, so I need to hold my hands up and admit to being a dumbass (nobody is surprised by this). Basically, when I first started the story I included the thing about Theo having the photo of her ex, and then at the end it's mentioned that she's buried with the photos, and so it absolutely sounds like the photo of the ex is still in there. It's not! I originally put that in there so it would spark the topic of Theo not being a virgin when the time came and James saw the photos, but then it ended up just not feeling right.

I think that would've provoked a much more intense response from him because then it's not a vague sort of concept of "I've slept with other people", he's literally seeing the others, and I didn't want to go down that path. I don't think he'd have been nasty about it, but certainly it would've been more of a rude awakening to find out that way while literally looking at a portrait of one of the lads. I wanted that whole topic to be less of an argument and more of a discussion, even if it's strained, and I think the photo could've made all the difference there in the worst of ways - not least because she still had it, and it would've been easy to read into that incorrectly for James (and anybody in his position).

Also, his seeing the photo and questioning it then makes it less a thing of "Theo tells him of her own volition because she knew it might be an issue" and more of a "she was cornered and had to admit it", which I didn't want it to be either, because that's not Theo.

I intended to write a bit in a later chapter where she gets rid of the photo - burning it or discarding it into the sea - but then at some point or another I ended up certain that I had already written it as a throwaway line (bc I'd thought about doing it so often), I didn't want to accidentally do it twice. However, turned out I hadn't, which I didn't realise until it was too late, so I accidentally didn't do it at all.

I'm torn on whether I'll write a one-shot set during the DMC era where James finally sees the photo (I think it could be a funny thing for him to compare himself to the guy and be like "lmao I'm so much better, this is what a grown man looks like in her time? pah!" once they're more secure in their relationship), or just one where Theo gets rid of it, but yeah. Less a stylistic choice and more just an error on my part. I'm sorry!

But yeah, either way she wouldn't have had the photo on her when she was buried with them - she definitely got rid of it at some point, I've just yet to actually write that because I thought I already had. I didn't realise I hadn't until I read it back from the beginning after finishing, and while I could've just edited it out, it's not fair to the folk who've already read it lolol. So I'm here to rectify it all now!


It started, as so many great things often did, with ABBA. The people in this time really didn't know what they were missing when it came to doing chores to music. Back home a bit of cheesy pop, eighties rock, or a musical soundtrack, made all the difference between a day of cleaning being gruelling, and it being a performance. Alas, her MP3 player dwelled in the bag, which dwelled in Achtland's forest three centuries from now, so she had to make do with singing. It wasn't the same, but it was good enough for the sailors she'd spent so much time around. Although there was a bit of a difference between sea shanties and ABBA's greatest hits.

She'd been hunched over a washtub, a block of soap, and a scrubbing board in the middle of the room, halfway through a very soulful rendition of Knowing Me, Knowing You (she nailed the a-haa bit of the backing vocals particularly well, even if the guitar riff was a bit shaky) when James stepped into their shared Tortugan abode. He would've heard her in the hallway, it would've been difficult not to, and she had the choice of either committing or growing embarrassed and stopping short. Both ended with her looking daft, so she continued, even if she halved the volume and the commitment she had to trying to sing every possible part of the song. It was just a good thing she hadn't tried to take on The Winner Takes It All.

When she ended the verse she didn't continue, and pretended she couldn't feel her cheeks burning.

"You don't have to do that, you know," he said, an amused smile on his face.

As he spoke, he took off his boots in an effort to avoid half of the sand in the settlement into their living quarters.

"Sing? Ouch."

"Wash my clothes," he clarified with a snort "The singing is oddly charming."

Theo narrowed her eyes and wrinkled her nose as though sceptical.

"That's not as much as a compliment as you probably think when you put oddly in there, you know. And it's fine - I'm washing my own, anyway. It'd take more effort to ignore yours than it does to do this."

The wig was beyond redemption and had mysteriously disappeared. She swore up and down that she knew nothing of it, and he hadn't seemed to believe her, but nor had he seemed to care. That was fine - she'd made sure there weren't any witnesses.

"The oddly was in reference more to the song itself."

"There are two kinds of people in this world, James," she said "People who say they love ABBA, and liars."

"...Perhaps his musical stylings are an acquired taste."

"They," she corrected "They're a group. Like a…a band of troubadours, I suppose. Similar to the ones that play in the tavern."

In the same way that wine was similar to sea water, and the movies they were living in were plays, but she had to work with what she had.

"I can't understand much of the song," he admitted "It's a tragic one?"

"It's a break-up song," she said "It's describing the end of a relationship - the sadness, the frustration, sometimes the betrayal. It's a whole thing. It's meant to be cathartic, I think."

"Is it?" he asked with a confused frown "Cathartic, I mean."

"Eh," she shrugged a little "With the ones I'd been through, I was mostly just glad to be rid of 'em."

His frown deepened at that, and she elaborated.

"They weren't cruel or anything. There wasn't any mistreatment - not the sinister kind. Sometimes things just don't work. You see it with couples here, they have the kids that are expected, and then they for all intents and purposes lead separate lives unless they have to appear at some event or another together. Back in my- back home, they could properly separate and actually go on to find other people to marry, or not marry, whatever, rather than sneaking around with mistresses. Or maybe they'd discover the incompatibility with each other before it even came to marriage and save themselves the pain. Living with a person tells you a hell of a lot about them."

"Did you ever live with…?"

"Nah. Never liked any of them enough for that," she said "Until you. But those circumstances were…er, unusual."

"You don't say," he said drily.

"But if they weren't, you'd still be the first one I'd willingly live with," she said.

The smile that spread across his lips was adorably proud, however much he tried to quell it as he bowed his head and cleared his throat, returning to the topic that fascinated him so, and had her feeling painfully uncomfortable. If there was anything about her time that would earn James' disapproval, it was how relationships were conducted. Hell, they'd make everybody here (well, back in Port Royal at least) blush, even if a lot of their buttoned-up-ness was a facade for polite society, and they had more in common with the folk here in Tortuga behind closed doors than they'd ever admit. And while she was determined not to be ashamed of anything from her past, because she'd done nothing wrong, it was always going to be tense discussing something with the man she had feelings for that she feared might impact his feelings for her.

The last thing she needed, now that they were reunited, and they were together, was to give him the ick.

"If the values of your home are so ideal, then surely these break ups would be rare," he pointed out.

"Of course not. People can be terrible. Think of how many men and women are stuck with people who make them miserable or who beat them now just because divorce would be frowned upon. It's not a utopia back there, it's just easier to be free from terrible situations. Or to avoid being put in terrible situations in the first place, especially for women."

"What were the faults that had you rescinding your hand?" he asked "In these prior instances?"

Theo paused, leaning back and drying her hands on the linen towel by her side. Then she looked at him, frowning her reluctance.

"You don't wish to tell me?" he guessed.

"I…don't mind telling you," she said slowly "It's just not something that's really done. Sitting chatting on and on about your old lads with the person you're interested in now."

"Oh?"

"I mean, it's not a banned topic, but I mean…if…if you and Jack were both trying to court Ada," she picked that example because it was the furthest she could think of from using Will and Elizabeth as examples instead "It'd be a bit weird of her if she spent her meetings with you talking about the flowers that Jack gave her, y'know?"

"It wouldn't be particularly appropriate, no," he said "Although I'd be more astounded by Sparrow bringing flowers to any woman."

"You're sure you want to know?" she said - despite how tempting it was to let this chat devolve into a good ol' Jack slagging session, she knew he wouldn't let her off that easy.

"I do."

"Why?"

"Perhaps I wish to avoid making the same mistakes that those unlucky fellows did."

She gave a strained smile, prompting him to continue.

"Theodora, I've no plans on casting judgement. It was not too long ago that I thought you guilty of master-minding a scheme to see my ship in the hands of a notorious pirate, and I still found myself hopelessly in-" he stopped, coughed, and then amended "Infatuated with you. I suspect there's little you can tell me now that would change that. You understand the world from which I hail, and I would like the reverse to be true, too…insofar as that is possible. The only man I have seen from your home is your father. That is hardly the same."

Oh, but wouldn't a deep-dive into the origin of the phrase daddy issues be such a great way to derail the topic? It was a temptation she could not follow. Not after he explained himself so earnestly.

"You want to see one? Genuinely?"

He frowned slightly, but then he nodded. Sighing deeply, she turned her back and began the arduous process of teasing the wallet out from beneath her chest bindings. When she turned back to him, he'd turned his head the other way, his eyes fixed squarely on the opposite wall.

"I didn't show you all of the pictures," she admitted "The whole thing was a lot for you to take in already, a lot of stuff that could easily have you changing your mind…I keep meaning to burn the bloody thing, truth be told, but I hate pulling them out to begin with, and then I put it off for another day."

She was rambling nervously, but she wasn't lying. It was the only one of the photographs that didn't send a pang through her chest when she fished it out from the bottom of the pile, passing it to him between two fingers.

"Throw it into the fire when you're done," she said.

Did that make it sound like she was trying too hard? It was just awkward. She had nothing to prove, she'd never felt for anybody the way she felt for James - the fact that she was willing to stay here was more than enough evidence of that - it was just that he was closer to the hearth, and if he handed it back to her it would only be so she could stand and burn it herself.

It was tempting to return to her chores while he inspected the photo, but curiosity took over and she ended up shifting to that she could sit flat on her backside on the floor, watching him inspect the photo. At first he peered down at it, brow still furrowed, but the more he looked, the more the furrow shallowed out and one dark eyebrow slowly rose.

"You don't look very impressed," she teased quietly.

The smirk that only just threatened to pull at his lips told her just how correct that suspicion was, but he cleared his throat and hummed, continuing to study the photograph keenly.

"I don't see many similarities," he said finally, like the interest was a purely educational "Between myself and him, that is."

"No," she said "Thank Christ."

"Presumably combs have gone out of fashion sometime between now and then," the smugness was evident in his tone.

"James Norrington," she gasped in mock-disbelief, but her amusement must've been clear in her tone judging by how he continued.

"As well as passable posture," he said "Or pride in one's appearance, for that matter. I'm almost tempted to be insulted that I find myself in the same category as this whelp."

Theo snickered, very much enjoying his smugness, shaking her head and moving to take up the shirt she'd been busy scrubbing "Hardly."

"Mm. What prompted the…cessation of your association?"

"Turns out he was about three hundred years too young for me," she snorted.

He smirked, but continued to watch her expectantly.

"We didn't work," she sighed with a shrug "We could never talk about anything serious. Ever. It was either constant carrying on - you know, the way Jack does - or nothing. If I so much as told him I'd had a bad day, it'd be well what do you want me to do about it? Like I was being weird for mentioning it at all."

"Is that not the sort of thing that may be remedied?"

"Maybe," she shrugged "But one night we had an argument - we were both in a bad mood. He made a snippy comment, I snapped back, it devolved, he went out drinking with his friends. Found out the next day from a mutual friend that he took a shine to a girl at the bar."

"He was unfaithful?"

"No. Flirtatious, apparently, but nothing concrete. And I realised I didn't care at all. In fact, I realised just how little I cared now that I can compare it to…well…back in Port Royal. I know it wasn't the same, but the thought of him carrying on with someone else didn't bother me. Maybe on a pride level, because of how it made me look, but not in the way I should have cared. I was miffed - like I'd broken a glass, or something. Not heartbroken. I ended things within the week, and he seemed relieved by it, too. Bought me a drink next time we ran into each other. He wasn't malicious, he was just young. And a bit of an idiot. It was all very friendly, and I was relieved to have my weekends back to myself."

"That…sounds like you," he mused quietly.

"Well you know what they say, right? Don't get together with anybody unless they improve upon how things are when it's just you yourself."

"Is that what they say?"

"Well, it's what they will say. Eventually. Seemed a good way to go about things. I won't pretend it's a utopia there. It's so easy to end things and go for something exciting and new again that there are plenty of people who run at the first sign of slight conflict for something more novel. But that's not new, there are folk here who still do that, the difference being they all just do it behind their wives' backs. At least back home you're not stuck with it. He wasn't exactly much of a gentleman, sure, but if our ways were more like yours, I might not even be here now."

"And do you find I improve upon your so fiercely-held independence?"

Smiling a little, Theo rose to her feet and held her hand out for the photograph. He offered it, and then she felt his eyes on her as she cast it into the fire without so much as half a hesitation. It hissed and crackled as the laminated seal melted and bubbled black in the flames. Rather than stopping to watch it, she then moved to sit down beside him on the bed, their thighs pressed against one another.

"You are stuck with me for as long as you'll have me, I'm afraid. Bad luck."

James scoffed, his hand finding hers "I would have you for as long as you'll allow."

She wouldn't make a joke about that. Not only because it was low-hanging fruit, but because she was too relieved at both being rid of the photograph, and at how well the conversation had gone compared to how disastrously she'd feared it might. Then, though, when she turned her head to look at him, there was a sincerity and an intensity that both burned in his gaze that had her questioning if some (albeit small) part of his words hadn't been meant that way, too.

"That'll be an awfully long time, then," she said softly.

"I hope so," he said "And longer still."

And then he was kissing her.


A/N: Tumblr - esta-elavaris

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