A/N: This will only follow the first bit of the story, up to the events of the first movie - because after a certain point it would just converge with Catch the Wind and end up being the exact same story all over again with one or two changes at most. It therefore might not be very worth reading if you haven't read that story.
There is a pinned post on my Tumblr (esta-elavaris) for this fic, linking to the ask that started this all off, thanks to the absolute genius brainwave by teawithshakespeare over there! The gist is that what if Elizabeth was the one to find Theodora, with the premise that not only would it make James a whole lot less trusting of Theo in the beginning, but it also shines a light on Elizabeth and Theodora's friendship, and opens up the potential for Elizabeth spotting the chemistry between them and playing matchmaker in an attempt to politely shirk off James' unrequited interest in her. It also paves the way for a very big difference or two - one in particular you will see in the next chapter.
I'm very excited about it, it's such a fun idea, I love any excuse to write this couple, so here we go! I'll say it a hundred times - this is all because teawithshakespeare sent me an ask that then set up shop in my brain rent-free, so all of my thanks go to them. It was originally just going to be a one-shot under Sainted by the Storm, but that format doesn't do it justice. So now we have this - with all of the painful, Pride and Prejudice inspired, "can you please stop snipping at and misunderstanding each other for five minutes and see that you're in love" sort of thing.
The cry of seagulls, and the crashing of waves. Those were the first things that slowly crept into Theodora Byrne's awareness. But her town was landlocked, so either her strange dreams had introduced a new novelty factor, or somebody nearby was absolutely blaring a television set. Her problems became more pressing when the next thing demanded her attention - a sharp, throbbing, all encompassing ache that enveloped her skull from her eyebrows to the base of her neck. Crying out didn't help - far less than it ever helped, really, because it only drew more hurts to her attention. Her lips were cracked and dry, and her throat had been reduced to sandpaper. Breathing made it worse. Trying to swallow made it hell. Not that there was much moisture in her mouth to help her do so to begin with.
It took moving - lifting a hand to her head, like she wanted to be sure it wasn't literally splitting apart - for her to realise she wasn't in a bed. No blankets weighed down on her, and a breeze that might've been soothing had she been well tugged at her hair and ghosted across her face. The waves and the bird cries (which were very quickly starting to feel like needles jabbing into her temples) were real, then. Still, she didn't panic. Not yet.
Taking in some deep, calming breaths, she tried to ride out the pain, and waited for the context of her situation to hit her. It wouldn't be the first time she'd gone camping and woken up confused at not being in her bedroom. It wasn't beyond the realms of possibility that she'd been drinking, too…well, if she'd come here with others, she wasn't a complete degenerate. In a moment or two somebody would shout an offer of tea, coffee, breakfast, or paracetamol, and she'd remember the particulars and begin setting about recovering from this monster hangover.
Camping on a beach would be a new one, though. Most fold she knew hated sand…and where could they possibly go that would be this hot? What…
"God above, she's alive," a faraway voice gasped "Look! She's moving! Miss? Miss!"
"Miss Swann!" cried another voice "Miss Swann!"
It was that which had reality crashing down upon her - as well as what amount of wakefulness she'd yet to seize. Both had the unfortunate side-effect of bringing on the rest of the discomfort that had been lingering in the periphery until then. Somehow too hot and too cold all at once, she was suddenly wracked with shakes from the fright and the chill both, all while her skin itched and prickled, ablaze despite the shivers coursing through her.
Theo's eyes flew open, immediately assaulted with the harsh light of day. The cry that tore from her throat hurt - and the jolt that went through her when water, cold and abrasive to her already frayed senses, hurt more than anything yet. On the bright side, it returned full control of her body to her, grabbing her by the scruff of the neck and yanking her straight into reality.
Or some version of it, at least.
One which had her staring into the dark, wide eyes of Keira Knightley.
"Miss Swann, don't get so close - she could be dangerous!"
"Don't be silly, Estrella - look at her. She's terrified."
Well, she had that right. Theo stared at her, and then whipped her head around - although what she was looking for, she'd never know. Cameras, maybe. Ashton Kutcher waiting to announce that Punk'd had made a return, and they'd decided to kick things off by getting an A-lister to prank an absolute nobody. Instead, all she saw were palm trees, ocean, and sand.
The woman behind her, clad in a red dress that looked like something from a period drama, topped in an apron, looked between Theo and Keira distrustfully.
"Your dress, miss…" the other woman said doubtfully, in what was probably a final attempt to get her to back away and stop kneeling beside Theo.
"Hang the dress," Keira said impatiently, turning her full attention back to Theo "Miss, are you well? How did you come to be here? Did your ship capsize?"
"You're Keira Knightley," Theo said dumbly.
Or at least she tried to. It came out as a series of barely intelligible croaks that left her plastering a hand across her throat in her best impression of the Little Mermaid.
"Water," she said next - feeling like she was shouting, only to have it come out as a rasp "Water. Do you…?"
A deep furrow etched itself between the eyebrows of the woman kneeling in the sand beside her. The more she realised what bad shape she was in, the more Theo began to doubt it was actually Keira Knightley - hell, she wondered if there was anybody here at all, or if this wasn't just some bizarre nightmare.
"I've none, I'm sorry," the woman said, before a steady sort of determination settled across her face "But we will get you some. At my home."
"Miss-" the other woman began to protest.
The woman whipped her head around to give her a look which silenced her, and gave Theo a view of a very elaborate updo that she'd never seen anybody jaunt about with, bar in a movie. The same could be said for the dress, really, all corsets and padding and brocade, like something out of…of Pirates of the…
Turning her head back to her, the woman made to lay a hand on her arm, but when she saw it would come into skin that would've been more suited to Hellboy, she laid her hand flat atop the sand beside her instead.
"My name is Elizabeth Swann," she said "My father is Governor here - in Port Royal. I'm going to help you."
"We should fetch the law…" the woman behind her began to protest.
"Would you like an entire squad of sailors to see you thus?" Elizabeth countered "We'll take her to the mansion, and then we'll alert the law. Give me your apron."
Theo watched the exchange take place with wide, disbelieving eyes. She really was hallucinating, then.
"Here, you must stand," Elizabeth said "I'd fetch men who may be able to carry you, but the tide is already coming in. We must make haste."
She finally resolved on where she might lay a hand upon her without doing further damage - wrapping it around her waist, settling over the back of her ribcage as she began to try and urge her upwards. The contact was very real, as was the pain the attempt at moving resulted in, and whatever work Theo had just done to calm her breathing went right out the window.
"You must calm yourself," Elizabeth said, her voice steel coated in kindness "We need to get you away from here, and cannot carry you unless we treat you like a sack of potatoes."
Real or not - mad or not - she had one thing right. The waves that had at first lapped at her calves was now already threatening to reach her hips. Shallow though they were (and while the many skirts Elizabeth wore seemed enough to absorb an entire ocean), they wouldn't be for long. Theo bent her knees and planted her boots into the sand. It earned her a wide, beaming grin - although it turned more into a grimace when she lodged a shoulder beneath her arm and urged her to her feet.
"Estrella - the apron. Tie it around her waist. It'll have to do for now."
The world was spinning dangerously around her the longer she remained balancing precariously atop her legs like this, and she breathed a half-curse, half-prayer as Estrella splashed into the surf and looped the apron around her waist with such reluctance that Theo couldn't help but wonder if she feared she might bite her.
When she was done, and Theo's legs were now cloaked in white linen, at Elizabeth's insistence, Estrella lodged her shoulder beneath her other arm - having a much easier time of it, for how much shorter she was than her companion, who was on par with her for height and had to stoop a little to support her. Then, finally, they began the arduous process of walking.
Admittedly, for Theo it was more about putting one leg on top of the other than about supporting much of her own weight, relief running through her when her badly burnt skin was no longer subjected to the constant onslaught of saltwater. It was embittered, though, by the nausea welling within her, and Elizabeth's constant attempts to get answers out of her.
"What is your name?"
That one was easily answered enough. Well, in theory. But talking was difficult.
"Theo- Theodora…Byrne."
"We can treat your sunburn when we get you inside, Theodora," she said, the struggle in her voice laced with sympathy.
Theo breathed a dry, sore laugh "No - m'name. Theodora Byrne."
"Ah. My mistake. Well, Miss Byrne, you are safe now. And in good hands. But you must stay conscious."
Their progress brought them off of the sand, and onto footing that was more perilous still - through dense green foliage that had the woman at either side of her struggling almost as much as she was, with only one hand available each to try and keep their skirts out of their way.
The task that was set before her was simple enough in theory, but Herculean in practise. Already the greenery surrounding them was being replaced by black in Theo's vision, until it was thoroughly tunnelled and she kept finding that she'd allowed her head to loll back on her neck without actually meaning to, nor at first being aware of it.
"How did you come to be here, Theodora?"
The struggle was evident in Elizabeth's voice, and Theo had just enough presence of mind left to know she was questioning her in an effort to keep her aware than genuine curiosity. Her boot caught on an errant root and the almost-fall that ensued jerked her back into consciousness. God, she felt like she was boiling alive here. She'd give her kingdom for a breeze.
"Dunno," she breathed "The fairies, I think."
The other one, Estrella, made a despairing noise in response - although Elizabeth breathed a laugh that was too warm to be mocking. It mattered little to her, either way. When she next woke up (or woke up truly, perhaps) she would find that it hadn't been real, whether dream or hallucination, and what she said now would matter little. And if it was real? The idea had her snorting aloud, for how little she believed it. If it was real, she'd have bigger problems on her hands than an explanation to Elizabeth sodding Swann.
"Whom may we find that would be looking for you?" she asked.
There was a break in the foliage up ahead - perhaps ten feet away. The light that shone past the final lot of trees and bushes already threatened to ramp up her headache to a new, unbearable level.
"Theodora," Elizabeth said strongly "Do you know if anybody is looking for you? Have you a family? A husband?"
"My da," she murmured without thinking "My father. He'll be looking."
Elizabeth's grip on her tightened in a way that felt more to do with reassurance than practicality, and now she did not laugh.
"We'll find your father for you," she said - and it had the sound of a vow.
Theo didn't have much time to be touched by just how heartfelt it sounded, though, for her energy finally gave out, and darkness overtook this very strange dream of hers…leaving her, with her last shred of consciousness, to lament that she didn't even get to meet Jack Sparrow. What a disappointing dream.