#potcfic

[esta-elavaris]

Part Thirteen [4,751 words] ~ James Norrington/OC

An AU of my completed, 400k+ word fanfic Catch the Wind [AO3], in which Elizabeth, not James, is the one to discover Theodora Byrne after she crash-lands into the world of Pirates of the Caribbean.

Page breaks by cafekitsune.

Also now on AO3 and FF.net.

Masterpost - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Ten - Part Eleven - Part Twelve - *Part Thirteen* [you're here!]

Tag list [let me know if you want to be added!]: @teawithshakespeare @missfronkensteen @dancerinthestorm

A/N: At this point, my approach to this fic is “what if POTC was an Austen novel?” and we just need to live with the consequences xoxo

“Is this not a bit much?” Theo asked doubtfully, scrutinising her reflection.

“My dearest darling Theodora, that is the point,” Elizabeth replied simply.

Both of them had already been dressed by the maids, and now they were resorting to a bit of primping as they waited for the appropriate time to head downstairs.

“I’m not opposed to a bit of glam, but this is…you’ve got me looking like Marie Antoinette.”

“Who?”

Whoops. At least making slips like that with Elizabeth wasn’t quite as disastrous as it might’ve been with anybody else.

“An extravagant French queen.”

“The goal was more fierce ancient warrior goddess attends a ball in her free time.”

“You need your head examined.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“I expect you’re rather more affectionate towards our dear captain, to have captivated him so.”

“Ugh.”

“Then again, perhaps it’s the muttered fieriness that has captured his heart so.”

“Ugh.”

“I heard that the first time.”

“And you’ll hear it again, at this rate.”

“Too right, save your charm for its most fervent applicant.”

Theo then unleashed a third, hearty ugh at her friend – but Elizabeth anticipated it and uttered a matching one in unison at the exact same time, and both of them dissolved into very immature laughter. It was much too difficult to get too annoyed at her friend. Mostly because she seemed to delight in it.

Their looks were not quite matching, but certainly themed alongside one another, and it had all started when Theo gave Elizabeth her gift.

Having never been one for big heartfelt emotional gestures, she felt like her insides were eating themselves as she sat with Elizabeth in the drawing room after dinner. It wasn’t like she never did anything nice for people, she wasn’t a feral animal, but…well. The Irish had a way of doing these things. Usually by offering forth whatever the warm gesture was, along with a (loving) insult and a refusal to make a big deal about it after the fact. That, she suspected, wasn’t the way of things here. And to be honest, she didn’t even consider that fact a bad thing – she certainly wouldn’t judge Elizabeth for being warm and sincere, but she just had little idea of how to respond to it. Maybe it wasn’t even just an Irish thing, maybe it was a product of being raised by a guy, amongst guys.

Combined with the time period disparity, she was left with hopelessly little idea of how to be a woman in the expected manner in these parts. Usually, Elizabeth found that equal parts amusing and charming, likely because Theo didn’t eschew traditionally “girly” stuff. She wasn’t about to stamp her feet at the sight of anything pink and frilly. But the fact remained, that she didn’t want this to be amusing or awkward, or whatever else it was she managed to be here. The last thing she wanted was to put a dampener on this.

So, resisting the strong urge to simply chuck necklace into Elizabeth’s lap and call it a day, she cleared her throat and straightened, taking a sip of her wine in an attempt to appear casual.

“So…I have a present for you,” she began.

Elizabeth’s dark eyes lit up with curiosity and excitement both, one eyebrow arching a little. That was fair. Not because Theo was the ungenerous sort, but because she didn’t exactly have a whole lot to be generous with around here, other than her time. And she had that in spades, which made it lose its lustre a bit.

“I know how much you like my necklace,” she said, reaching up to tug at it where it sat between her collarbones, “and I was half-tempted to just give you it, because it’s the only thing I really can offer, with the way things are right here. Y’know, other than my dazzling personality.”

Huffing a laugh at her remark, Elizabeth’s brow furrowed as she shook her head.

“Theo, I could never accept such a gift-”

“Which was why I didn’t try,” she nodded, “Bit of a crap gift if it just makes you feel bad. But…well. I worked my wiles, and I got a bit of advice, and then I found just the right craftsman for the job.”

Something glimmered in her eyes, and Theo knew then that she’d caught the hint of who exactly had been involved in the making of the necklace.

Presenting the pouch, she pinched the drawstrings between her thumb and forefinger, and then offered it to Elizabeth. Finally, she did a passable job at not appearing as awkward as she felt while she watched her open it, tipping the contents out into her palm. That awkwardness disappeared the moment Elizabeth grinned, and was forgotten entirely when she dragged her into a hug that was more tight than she would’ve thought the younger woman capable of.

If there’d been any small doubt in her mind that she was only pretending to like the necklace – which had been a real fear, given the many fine jewels that she had in her jewellery boxes upstairs – it would’ve been erased by Elizabeth’s sunny disposition in the following days. In fact, whenever they encountered others, servants or friends both, she began each conversation with ‘have you seen what Theodora has given me?’ while Theo flushed under the sheer weight of her enthusiasm.

Yes, she’d done well. She’d have to thank Norrington. Although she suspected he’d have the same dislike for accepting profuse thanks that she did, but that might double the fun. Still, Elizabeth had decided that the necklace should be the focal point of her get-up for the men’s going-away dinner, so no doubt he’d see that, and the hand he’d had in it, as thanks enough – at least once he saw her enthusiasm for it.

“I have to wear silver to accentuate my lovely new necklace, so it only makes sense that you wear gold.”

“My necklace also silver, so shouldn’t we both be wearing that colour?”

“Heavens, no. There’s a fine line that separates what we’re doing, and being a couple of strange old spinsters who wear identical garb and speak in tongues.”

“I already do the latter, depending on who you ask.”

“All the more reason not to partake in the former,” Elizabeth teased. “In any case, that is why you shall borrow one of my necklaces tonight.”

She might’ve disliked being dressed up like a doll, were Elizabeth’s tastes not so damn good. That was the thing with Elizabeth, she never tried to dress her up like her. Everything she flung at her managed to have Theo’s own feel to it, and the garments that did not were artfully styled so that they would once the look was complete. And how many modern women ever had a chance like this? It was like being on a period drama set, without the ordeal of having to learn lines. Fibs about her origins aside…and more concerns over potential lead poisoning. But Elizabeth wasn’t one for powdered faces, however much she was determined to induce a powdered wig fetish in Theo.

Her hair had been wrestled into a voluminous updo, with swooping curls defying gravity pinned up at the back, and one lone crimson ringlet left to fall at her collarbone, ending a good few inches above where the neckline of the gown began.

The necklines here took a bit of getting used to. The way the gowns shoved whatever a woman had in the chest department entirely up, and making even one like herself who was rather un-blessed in the chest suddenly appear busty. Sure, she hadn’t been averse to showing off her figure back home, but it turned out she’d thought the Georgians distinctly less free with that kind of thing than they actually were. For a time that she’d gone into thinking of as very buttoned up, she’d quickly realised how wrong she was when Elizabeth had giggled at her (albeit kindly) for asking if putting so much chest on display wasn’t a bit scandalous.  

It turned out she’d arrived a bit early, if she expected people to faint over the notion of a woman having breasts.

And anyway, the gown was gorgeous. Gleaming gold damask that caught the light of any and every candle in the room, making it appear almost liquid rather than just mere fabric. The sleeves ended with ruffles at her elbows, and there was a minimal amount of bows and frills and lace, so there was no worry that she’d feel like she’d be better suited atop a wedding cake than sitting having drinks with her new friends, and…uh…”friends”.

The sad fact of this impending departure that it was taking half of her allies with it, and Elizabeth had proven the only woman around here who was inclined to take a shine to her. Unless they could start dragging the maids along with them to afternoon tea.

Elizabeth’s gown was similar to hers, although not quite an exact replica. It had more of a floral motif, in shades of silver and dotted here and there with pearls. She looked like some sort of wintry queen when all was said and done – although the coldness of the look ended the moment she smiled. As breathtaking as she was, it was a wonder the other women didn’t hate her and not just Theodora. But in their minds, any positive attributes Elizabeth held were likely just expected. They were correct.

In truth, Theo didn’t envy her. When she met expectations, she’d receive little recognition for it. When Theo showed any fine qualities, it was a pleasant surprise to those inclined to like her, and infuriating for those who did not. The former was nice enough, the latter was funny.

Which made Amelia’s impression of a bulldog chewing a wasp while Elizabeth delighted over her gift during the gathering downright hysterical.

Theo couldn’t tell if the brunette knew she could hear her or not. She stood some ways away, speaking in a little circle with Norrington, Lieutenant Groves, and a handful of other ladies, while Theo mingled with those who had not chosen to snub her. That number was growing, she noted, but there was still something about their smiles that disconcerted her. A tenseness, and an analytical look hidden in their eyes, like they were turning over and over every word she spoke to find some hidden meaning.

She wished them luck with it – for while she had her secrets, there’d be no guessing them for any folk here. It was amidst one of Mrs Spencer’s speeches, during which she listed every fish known to man and whether she liked it or not, and which was the best cooking method if she did, that she caught wind of Amelia’s snide comments, floating airily across the room.

“I confess, she could personally hand me the Crown Jewels and it still would give me no notion of what she’s attempting to say when she speaks, more often than not. It seems a strange consolation prize for Miss Swann.”

Theo stifled an eyeroll, for fear that Mrs Spencer would think she was levelling it at her.

“I find Miss Byrne’s manner of speaking charming. It’s clever,” Groves said, visibly uncaring that Amelia very much did not want to hear that.

“In its own way, no doubt,” she replied boredly.

“No, in the true sense of the term.”

A break in Mrs Spencer’s list (during which she debated whether she preferred crab or lobster) allowed Theo to chime in. Mostly because she couldn’t help herself.

“I’m very beautiful, too – talk about that next,” Theo called over, leaving no doubt as to the fact that she’d heard every word.

Groves grinned and then laughed, “What was it you said the other day? About an old colleague of your father’s – a lanky fellow? Built like a…”

“Built like the side of a bank note.”

“Yes! That’s the one. I confess, I’ve been laughing at that ever since you said it.”

Beside him, Norrington’s lips thinned, and he gazed down into his wine glass as if in disapproval.

Was Groves being inappropriate, or did he just disagree with his opinion? Considering she couldn’t much imagine the former, that only left the latter. Didn’t it?

“Well, to your discerning ear, Lieutenant,” she offered a smile and raised her glass.

Groves mirrored the gesture, and even Mrs Spencer gave a trickling laugh and sipped from her own, but Amelia scoffed. And Norrington? Norrington took a long drink from his own glass that seemed to have little to do with the toast. All while not looking at her.

At some point as the night wore on, Theo excused herself to seek the night air. It was a cloudy night, which kept the stifling heat of the day trapped down upon them, and with all of the bodies and the revelry inside, it soon grew stifling. The saving grace – out here, at least – was that it had begun to drizzle. It was refreshing, even if it would work a few questionable waves into her carefully primped hair.

That didn’t bother her, though. Everybody here was even drunker than she was, and those who gave a toss about what her hair looked like were those who already searched for reasons to dislike her. They could crack on. Walking quietly over to a stone bench in the middle of the patio, she sank down upon it and breathed deeply. She’d need to sober up a little before going back in. All right, she wasn’t exactly shit-faced – there’d be no risk of her climbing up onto a table and belting out ABBA’s greatest hits – but she didn’t like to be much beyond mildly tipsy around this lot.

Most of this lot.

It wouldn’t do to grow too comfortable, but she was at least pleased to find that the list of those she didn’t feel like she had to be permanently on her complete and total guard around had grown more than she ever could’ve hoped. Elizabeth had been the first to occupy it. Then Governor Swann, even if she was never destined to be the best of friends with him. Then Groves, and now – most surprisingly, and in the biggest U-turn of all – Captain Norrington.

“I see we both had the same idea.”

Norrington’s voice was distinct and instantly recognisable from where it sounded behind her. Maybe she’s summoned him with her thoughts.

“Would I be imposing if I joined you?” he hedged.

“Not at all,” she offered a smile, “but I haven’t got any books on me for us to discuss, so we’ll need to find another way to play nice.”

He offered a low huff of a laugh. “I’m optimistic about our changes.”

To her relief, his earlier questionable mood seemed a thing of the past. As he spoke, she scooted along to the left side of the bench and he took a seat to her right, uncaring for the raindrops that had gathered atop it.

“Mm. We’re the capable sort, I think,” she replied. “Speaking of, I’d ask you if you’re prepared for tomorrow, but I’m worried you’d take it as an insult.”

“Once, from you, perhaps. But no longer.”

Was she mistaken, or was humour creeping into his tone? He continued before she could dwell on it – and this time, he was definitely teasing her.

“I am well prepared, or else I should not be here. Shall you miss me?” he asked drily.

“Mm. If, on a scale from one to ten, one is being delighted to see the back of you and hoping you never return-”

“I rather regret asking now.”

“Let me finish - and if ten is I won’t eat or sleep ‘til he’s back, I’d give you…a solid…seven.”

“Seven?” he seemed surprised.

“And a half. Maybe even an eight, in your warm and fuzzy moments.”

“I’m not sure I have any warm and fuzzy moments.”

“I don’t believe that. You’re not half as scary as you’d have people think.”

“Scary?” he echoed with a snort. “Did you find me so fearsome when we first met?”

“On a scale of one to ten?”

“No. Truly.”

When she realised how sincere his question was, she gave it the thought it deserved before answering.

“Okay, scary was the wrong word. Not just because I don’t frighten that easily.”

He chuckled quietly, “I can believe that.”

“But…intimidating, maybe that’s the word. That’s your job, though, isn’t it?”

“And we did not have the most harmonious of introductions.”

“Memorable, though.”

That earned her another laugh.

“Certainly memorable, yes,” he hesitated then for a moment and then finally asked. “I must ask – do I intimidate you now, still?”

“No,” she admitted. “If I’m being honest, and I’m only being honest because of the Governor’s very good, very strong, wine…I’ve never been so happy to be so wrong about a first impression.”

Before they could linger too long on something that was just a touch too close to sincerity – and before she could overthink the way his entire face seemed to soften in response to her words – she pressed on.

“What about you? Do you still think I’m the mad malevolent influence I appeared to be in the beginning?”

“Mad, perhaps,” he teased drily. “But not malevolent.”

“However…?” she sensed the continuation in his tone.

“However,” he conceded, “I do think there is much you are not telling me.”

“Well. Have to save something for my biography.”

He didn’t appear to find that as amusing as she’d hoped.

“Look…anything I’m not telling you…it can’t harm anybody here. Truly. If it would, I’d leave.”

“I believe that. Once I may not have, but I do now.”

“Good.”

“Could it harm you?”

Theo didn’t respond.

“Miss Byrne- Theodora. You can tell me.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters a great deal!”

“I don’t understand how we got here,” she fretted with a tired laugh, “we were just joking on.”

“We were just about to discuss something frankly, for perhaps the first time.”

“For the first time? What are you talking about, we speak all the time. Are you…are you saying you think I’m usually lying?”

“No, I do not, but we have never gotten anywhere before now.”

The words hit some alarming note deep within her.

“Gotten anywhere? What do you mean gotten anywhere? I don’t…”

Theo trailed off. Because she’d been about to say that she didn’t understand, but as her mind worked through the fog of the alcohol, the heat, and the panic, she suddenly found herself understanding all too well.

Whether her dawning realisation showed on her face, or Norrington could simply guess the natural route her thoughts were taking, she didn’t know – but he quickly tried to intercede.

“Theodora, I did not mean-”

“Have you…” the prospect seemed too ridiculous to be true – to voice – and it had her feeling sick to her stomach, but it was all that made sense, and the panic in his widening eyes only seemed to confirm it.

Because James Norrington did not panic.

“Have you only been speaking to me to try to get somewhere?” she asked. “The books, the lunches, the long conversations…has it…has it all been to get me to lower my guard? Have you just been biding your time, the whole time, hoping I might slip up? And…and what? Admit that I’m secretly a pirate? That I’m here to rob everybody and run?”

“Of course not,” he insisted intently, eyes boring into hers as though force of eye contact alone could force her to believe him. “I said I believe you mean no harm, and I spoke truly. I have come to believe that.”

Theo did not respond. Because there was more he wasn’t saying.

“I…I merely hoped that if you came to trust me, that you might…be willing to reveal whatever it is you have not.”

She felt sick. Physically sick. Or like she’d been punched in the chest. Both at once, really. This whole time. This whole time. Every conversation, every book, every lunch, every joke, every smile…it had never been because he’d just wanted to spend time with her, or even wanted to make things right. He’d been playing the long game.

And sure, she hadn’t thought the sudden U-turn had been a miraculous change in his opinion of her. She thought it had started off as a desire to keep Elizabeth happy by being amicable with her friend, but…but that it had morphed into…

God, she was an idiot. Exactly what she thought it had morphed into, or was morphing into, hadn’t been clear to her until now, upon being shown how wrong she was. Christ, she’d watched three very long movies of the guy mooning over Elizabeth, and she’d really thought that a couple of jokes and a fucking sandwich from her would change that? Even a little bit?

How many of their conversations had he endured rather that enjoyed? Listening to her prattle on the same way she listened to Mrs Spencer, waiting either for her to slip up, or shut up, only presence out of duty? Out of protectiveness towards the Swanns?

How stupid could she get?

Several half-baked words of parting flitted through her mind. Some of them were even vaguely clever. But she had neither the heart nor voice to actually say any of them. So instead, she rose to her feet – though she could hardly feel them beneath her.

“Theodora,” he faltered and tried to reach for her hand, but she yanked it back and took her leave.

Amelia was at the piano when she moved inside. That was good. Not just because she was a fantastic player – which she was – but because Theo knew by now that the night would soon draw to a close. A few more would play, the drinks would be finished, and the guests would trickle out.

While there was nothing she wanted to do more than race upstairs, get into her nightgown and hide from the world beneath the covers, she refused to do that. Not just out of pride, but because she felt numb, bereft, and mortified, all in one. And that was paralysing.

The song drew to a close as she walked in and moved to stand at the side of the room, but Amelia’s dark eyes found her the moment she was finished playing.

“Miss Byrne! You next!”

Norrington returned to the room as she spoke, but Theo didn’t look at him.

“I can’t play,” she said.

“Oh, but you must be able to play something. Anything! We aren’t snobs here,” no, just vipers, “we’ll admire a good effort if nothing else.”

“I agree,” Norrington intoned.

If Amelia looked delighted at that, Theo felt the exact opposite – and she saw her own horror reflected in Elizabeth’s reaction, from where she sat by her father.

“I will take a tu-” the blonde’s attempt to rescue her was interceded by her father.

The Governor, deep in his cups by the flush on his face, chuckled and interrupted Elizabeth.

“Come now, Elizabeth, you’ve already played twice. Give Miss Byrne her chance to shine – I’m sure you know something worthwhile, my girl, and none of us here are renowned composers. It is for novelty only, I assure you! You are among friends.”

He wouldn’t have insisted, had Norrington not encouraged Amelia’s spite.

And she couldn’t refuse, could she? Not now that the man who was housing her had bid it. He’d meant no harm, he had no way of knowing about the wound he was in the process of packing salt into, but Theo felt her nausea increase tenfold.

The drizzle outside had set into her hair and set it askew, and what remained of the damp on her skin and dress both quickly warmed in the head of the room until she felt like she was stepping into a sauna. It was suffocating, and only added to her discomfort.

Walking numbly to the piano felt like being trapped in a nightmare – the sort where you turned up to an exam you hadn’t studied for. Naked. She knew some things. Mostly from pissing about on friends’ keyboards, or from music classes in high school – a decade ago. Nothing compared to what people here knew. And nothing well. Chopsticks, the first two seconds of Für Elise, and the song from the sodding Titanic movie.

The final option was the one she knew the most, but that only spoke for how little she knew the others.

Sitting down at the piano, she didn’t meet Elizabeth’s gaze – because she knew the sympathy she’d see there would crack whatever composure she’d plastered on as she left the gardens. It took a bit of plodding to find the first note she was looking for (the ones in her old music classroom had the keys labelled with stickers and/or sharpie, but there was no such help here), and even that drew a muffled snicker from somewhere behind her.

The rest was no better. Halting and awkward, as she hit wrong notes and either had to muddle through it, or pause and find the right key. At first, she thought nothing could be worse than the silence behind her – because she’d never heard such a large crowd be so, so silent. But then another snicker followed. As well as a few coughs, whether from second-hand embarrassment or as an attempt to disguise yet more laughter.

And she didn’t take herself seriously. Anybody who met her knew that. Back home, this wouldn’t be embarrassing at all. Among friends. How many times had she sat in a friend’s bedroom, a joint between her lips as she muddled through Paint It Black, laughing at her own mistakes and leaning into it before handing the instrument to someone who actually knew what they were doing? But she was not among friends here. The conversation she’d just had proved that to her.

It was all she could think of, and it had her wanting to crawl out of her skin.

She ended after the first verse, utterly unable to bear trying to go on (ironic, considering the song choice), and the Governor began to clap. To give him credit, he wasn’t even being an ass.

“A valiant effort, Miss Byrne! A valiant effort!”

A few murmurs joined in, Groves insisting he should go next – no doubt a kind-hearted attempt to make whatever she’d just tried to play look good in comparison. Theo brushed by him, and then took her leave of the room entirely. That meant going by Norrington, but the night couldn’t get any worse anyway. And if she didn’t leave soon, she’d cry in front of everybody. She refused to do that.

She made it as far as the stairs before he caught up to her.

“Theo- Miss Byrne, I did not mean to-”

Whirling, she found he did indeed look horrified. Apparently his victory had not tasted as sweet as he’d thought. Something about that only made it worse.

“Do you realise, Captain, that every time you’re kind to me, it only lasts so long as it takes my guard to drop, and then you’re cruel again? Then you embarrass me, again?” her voice came perilously close to breaking and she took a moment, inhaled deeply and fixed her eyes at some point above his head rather than at him. “So, at what point do I become the idiot for falling for it?”

“I did not-”

“Just leave me alone. That’s all I ask. Leave me be. You’ll be rid of me soon enough.”

She turned and began to ascend the stairs before he could reply, but he – thankfully – made no move to call after her.

James watched Theodora ascend the stairs in the Governor’s mansion feeling positively nauseous with regret. Not only at what had transpired in the gardens, but at how gloriously his half-baked in-the-moment plan had backfired thereafter.

She was out of sight by the time he was aware of Groves’ approach, his lieutenant moving silently to stand by him.

“May I ask you a question from one man to another, and not as a Lieutenant to his superior?” he asked quietly.

“Fine,” James replied flatly.

“…What was your thought process behind that? Back there in the sitting room?”

The question cut more deeply than any admonishment might’ve.  

#catch the wind #ctw #james/theodora #fallen through time esta-elavaris #ftt #james norrington/oc #james norrington x oc #pirates of the caribbean fanfiction #pirates of the caribbean fanfic #potcfic #james norrington fanfiction #james norrington fanfic

[susanvstorm]

once again here to shove my fic in everyone's face !! chap 4 is up <33

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47876596/chapters/121990921

#pirates #pirates of the Caribbean #jack sparrow #angelica teach #sparrangelica #jackangelica #elizabeth swann #will turner #potc #potcfic #potc fic #piratecore #ao3

[fatamorganas]

La cuarentena(desde marzo) me sumergió en los fics nuevamente, estas ultimas semanas regrese a James Norrington. No hay mucho material pero encontré este fics y debo compartirlo con el mundo

Esta ambientada en El cofre.. y  desarrolla una idea muy parecida a una que tenia.  

10 por desarrollo de la historia

10 por desarrollo del personaje de James

--------------------------------------

The quarantine (since March) immersed me in the fics again, these last weeks I returned to James Norrington. There is not much material but I found this fics and I must share it with the world

It is set in Dead man’s chest .. and develops an idea very similar to one I had.

Please send love to the writer

#James Norrington #James Norrington X oc #James Norrington fic #POTCfic #Jack Sparrow #este fic me hace querer pegarle a James #me encanta

[esta-elavaris]

Part Sixteen [3,495 words] ~ James Norrington/OC

An AU of my completed, 400k+ word fanfic Catch the Wind [AO3], in which Elizabeth, not James, is the one to discover Theodora Byrne after she crash-lands into the world of Pirates of the Caribbean.

Page breaks by cafekitsune.

Also now on AO3 and FF.net.

Masterpost - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Ten - Part Eleven - Part Twelve - Part Thirteen - Part Fourteen - Part Fifteen - *Part Sixteen*

Tag list [let me know if you want to be added!]: @teawithshakespeare @missfronkensteen @dancerinthestorm

There was fuck all chance of her sleeping that night. Theo felt like she was going mad, Groves' words reeling through her mind over and over – joining with more than one of Elizabeth's many remarks to her over the last few weeks. You're allowing yourself to be defeated.

Did the fact that it bother her so much make it true?

She hoped not. Being one who took things lying down had never been her. She wasn't that pathetic. She wasn't that weak. But what else did anybody here actually expect her to do? Crawl on her hands and knees after a man who had humiliated her? One who was in love with somebody else? And what difference did it even make to her, anyway? Why did she even care? She'd been a bloody idiot for letting herself feel anything towards him to begin with, the way everything had shaken out had been a good thing. Hadn't it?

Waking up in lands that shouldn't exist didn't just happen accidentally. It wasn't like when she'd mistakenly walked into the wrong classroom during her school days. It took a lot for it to happen, and that meant it had to happen for a reason. What sort of power, what sort of force, would send her here just so she could have a cup of tea with Elizabeth Swann, get herself embarrassed, and wander home again?

The sad and terrible truth of the matter was that she had to be here for a reason. And there was a small, even more sad and terrible, possibility that it was something to do with him. The one she'd bonded with, and the one who was destined to meet a fate that, whatever her opinion of him was now, he did not deserve.

But that only made her feel worse – because sod that. If something…something conscious and coherent had sent her here, and if it had done so in order to offer her up as a consolation prize to a prick who had made it very clear that he didn't even like her…fuck that. Fuck that entirely.

God, but she felt like she was going mad. Never in her life had she been claustrophobic, but on that night she was getting there. A thick layer of clouds hid the mood and kept all of the heat and humidity from the day packed atop them, which did little to help the feeling of being an animal jammed into a cage and prodded at with sticks to see what funny reaction she might have next.

First, she tried to remedy it by getting out of the bed – sprawling out atop the covers, so they were just one less thing weighing down upon her. It didn't work. Neither did opening the windows, or pacing around, or even shirking off her nightgown and donning her clothes from home instead, in an effort to feel somewhat more like herself. Her true self.

Pulling the nightgown back on over them, she raked a hand through her hair, which had long since escaped its plait in all of her activity, and leaned out of the window, staring out at the night, and the coast.

She needed to get out of this house.

James could not find rest. For he had taken Elizabeth's advice – and it had worked. Rather too well. Lying abed that night, he closed his eyes and did all he could to bat out whatever prior plans he had, even going so far as to banish considerations as to what he would have for breakfast the next morning.

It was not easy advice to follow not only for reasons relating to practicality, either, for he couldn't help but wonder if her words had been a roundabout way of rejecting what he knew she must suspect he intended to ask her ere long. But he shoved that away too, and forced himself through the blasted visualisations she'd suggested.

In the first (and he chose the first because it was the easiest) he obeyed Miss Byrne's request to the letter. He kept his distance, he did not speak to her, and she was no longer there – either off to Ireland as she promised, or tucked off with Groves in some corner or another with a blush and a smile on her face. How the rest of the exercise would go should have been clear to him then, based on how the latter of those two prospects made his lip curl.

But the rest of it didn't bring him great distaste. There was just the small matter of the fact that it didn't bring him as much excitement and joy as it once had. The…the satisfaction of having secured a good match, insofar as it checked another box on the list he had that reflected the quality of his life, yes. Alarmingly, though, that was all. Even the knowledge that Elizabeth was a fine and beautiful woman remained, but it did not help. For did she not deserve a man who felt nauseatingly giddy at the prospect of marrying her? As he had, although he'd never had admitted it, only months prior?

When he opened his eyes, he scowled at the ceiling of his bedroom. And he did not proceed to the second bout of play-pretend. Mostly because he had no wish to face what it might foretell.

But sleep would not come.

How long he lay there, he did not know – he only knew that the more time ticked on, the more restless he felt, realising there was no possible way for him to get comfortable. That in itself was infuriating, too, for he was a man of the Royal Navy. Finding it difficult to sleep was not a problem he faced, because he had spent years all but training himself to find rest wherever and whenever he could find it.

This newest problem was a microcosm of greater perils.

Get up.

Shooting up where he'd sprawled atop his bed, he looked about the room. For the voice that had murmured those two words to him was not his own. It was…it was that of a woman. Deep and low, but feminine all the same. But Hattie was abed, no other sound had come from about the house, and there was no possible explanation for it.

Heavens, he truly was losing his mind, and he wondered ruefully to himself if the witch rumours regarding Miss Byrne weren't true after all. But even that joke, and even though it had only been thought to himself, felt cruel after what had transpired between them so recently.

Unease soon overtook the guilt, though, along with a sense of urgency he couldn't place. That he truly should get up – and more than that, he should go out. He tried to return to how he'd reclined before, but found he could not, for the moment he lay back, the urgency increased tenfold, until it had him rolling from the bed and looking for his civilian clothing.

A walk. Perhaps a walk would help. Only to prove to himself that he really was being ridiculous.

Stepping out into the night barely ten minutes later, dressed in his seldom-used civilian clothing, so that any who spotted him might not recognise him and therefore might not speak to him, James allowed his feet to take him wherever they wished to.

As they did so, his mind did the same – towards the line of thinking he'd so steadfastly avoided while in his bed. The other route he might take. Despite the fact that it seemed quite closed off to him now. Despite the fact that it was absurd. Despite the fact that it would have his father turning in his grave, that it made no sense from a logical standpoint, and that he'd resisted the notion so furiously for so long that it took a trudge through the wilds in the wee small hours of the morning for him to even admit that it was tempting.

But all logic, and all denial (for he was at least not so simpleminded that he did not see it for what it was) clouded in comparison to how the prospect seized at his chest. Much his earlier plans had, before Theodora. Before her teasing, and her beauty, and her jokes, and her stubbornness, and her fierce intelligence.

He stepped out of the tree line and realised then just where it was he'd so unwittingly walked to. The small, private beach that the serving classes of Port Royal liked to frequent – and keep hidden from their masters, for the most part. The beach itself was hemmed in by two steep rocky shores, around five or six feet in height at their shallowest portions, curling around the water there in the shape of an open horseshoe, and it was on one of those shores he stood now, affording him a view of the entire beach.

And of the figure swimming in the water.

Now, he wasn't sure she was not a witch. It took a moment of blinking, but it was indeed Theodora Byrne – what little moonlight managed to pierce the thick clouds catching her hair and casting it in shades of deep blood red, and black, at different intervals, where it was scraped back and plastered to her head and neck. What were the chances that he should find her here, like this, as she plagued his very thoughts?

What little light there was illuminated something else, though. Something that had that feeling in his chest he'd utterly refused to label replaced by something far more pressing. Terror.

She could not see it, not from where she swam, and not from her position in the water, the waves bobbing up and down all about her, but a large dark dorsal fin cut through the waves not fifty full feet from where she swam. And it seemed in no hurry to swim away.

Unknowingly, she was swimming with a shark. A very large shark. A tiger shark, if he had to guess. Although he had no wish to.

"Miss Byrne," he called out.

The terror had not had a chance to reach his voice, and he was thankful for that. Stopping, she began to tread water, squinting about her, until she finally spotted him where he stood. She was just close enough that he could see her lips thin, and she smoothed her hair back and called back.

"Leave me alone, Captain."

She made to start swimming again, but he could not allow that. She could not splash. He only hoped she had not done too much of it already. Hurrying to the very edge of the rocks, he leaned out, hoping if he got close enough she might see the urgency on his face.

"Theodora!" his voice was ragged, but it got her attention. "Swim to me."

Outrage filled her expression, and so he continued firmly – desperately – before she could retort.

"Carefully. Do not splash."

In all his life, he had never seen someone's face pale so dramatically, so swiftly. She understood his meaning immediately.

"Are you jo-"

Her head turned a little to the right, and he shouted.

"No! Do not turn. Swim. Swim to me," he extended an arm, as if he would be able to reach far enough to pluck her out of the water.

He did his utmost to use the very same tone he utilised when issuing stern orders to his men – the difference being when he doled out those, his voice did not shake.

For an extended stretch of time – mere seconds that felt like lifetimes – she stared at him, wide-eyed in shock. It was an expression he mirrored, that much he knew, and there was no possible trying not to disguise his horror, not when it ran deep into his bones like this. He knew then that her mind was screaming at her body to push through terror and comply. It was a feeling he knew fine well, from his early days as a soldier. But then, the vaguest hint of a splash sounded behind her, something within her snapped, and she swam.

The fin followed. Fifty feet became forty, and far too quickly at that. Clinging uselessly to the rocks beneath his hands, James watched in terror, the blood draining from his face. He was no stranger to misfortune, nor to danger, nor grief. He had lost men in battle, he had seen the people of Port Royal face all manner of accidents and injury, and yes, even death. And, whatever the rumours were, he was far from unfeeling. Each one pained him.

But nothing – nothing compared to this.

Only her eyes betrayed the true extent of her fear, for while her face was utterly white, she kept control of what she could, funnelling air purposefully in through her nose and out through her mouth, as like to drive off panic than to keep herself moving. All the while, she stared at him, and his outstretched arm.

He could not simply watch. He could not. Refusing to deliberate, for it was not worth deliberation, he shrugged his coat off and tossed it aside – it would only impede him – and the boots followed, for they would do so too. Then, he eased his legs over the edge, and turned, lowering himself slowly down over the stony ledge with his arms, turning one last time before he let go, so that he could take note of where the shark was.

In the water, Theodora's eyes widened.

"No—no! Don't you da-"

However her sentence ended was lost on him, muffled by the water as he slipped into it as seamlessly as he could, body pin-straight to minimise any splashing. The water was cold, but he felt it little and cared even less. It was, however, also black as tar as he plunged beneath the surface, slowly opening one eye and then the other, to minimise the sting and return his sight to him as quickly at possible. That troubled him more. It took only one kick, then another, to surface.

With two in the water, it might consider itself outmatched and leave in search of easier prey. That was the best-case scenario, but he had little control over whether it would happen. What he could control, was his place between it and Theodora.

She was closer when he surfaced, but still out of arm's reach. Face chalk-white, she swam towards him in a breaststroke that was smooth despite how she trembled. The fin was still there behind her – far enough away that one quick lunge wouldn't have her within biting distance, but still far too close for comfort, moving in a slow, lazy circle to take stock of how the situation had changed.

"Go back," she insisted, her voice shaking as much as the rest of her. "Go back now."

James scoffed, and began to swim towards her.

The shore was too far away. If they turned to it, and to more shallow waters, it might sense its prey would soon be lost and act accordingly. No, they would have to reach the rocky shelf, and then climb out. With any luck, it would think they would soon be cornered, and then they would be gone.

So long as the fin remained above the water, that was good. So long as it was there, he knew where it was. He'd have no chance of spotting the beast if he had to stick is face below the waves to look there, not on a night as dark as this. James treaded water the moment he was near enough, and with Theodora's next stroke forward, he clamped a hand about her arm and dragged her towards him, and then behind him, making sure to stay facing the direction she'd come from.

With his left arm out, palm firmly at her back so he knew where she was, he began to swim backwards, kicking his legs as firmly as he could without disturbing the water, his right arm out to the other side to aid him. Beneath his hand, her back shook and gave away the erratic nature of her breathing. Nearer and nearer it drew, until he felt his own limbs threaten to tremble, and he was certain that if it was any closer at all, he'd be able to feel its snout at his legs.

The fin, the size of which he could finally judge at this proximity – much to his dread, for it was a hefty monster indeed, the dorsal fin alone easily bigger than his head – swept to the left and he jolted, ready to reposition himself between it and the woman swimming to his side. But then it rounded again, circling back to face them…and the fin disappeared beneath the water.

He must've made a noise, although he couldn't say what that noise was in his heightened state, and through the hammering of his heart. Without asking what was wrong, Theodora picked up speed, and James followed suit; the hand at her back remained there, but the other began to grope at his belt beneath the water, in search of his knife. It hindered him for only a moment, bobbing, and getting a mouthful of saltwater for his efforts, but then it was in hand.

Every time a wave slapped at him, he braced himself for something more – a stronger, more deadly force to barrel out at him from beneath it. His back met rock, and rather than turning, he sidled leftwards and caged in Theodora with his body.

"Climb," he ordered raggedly.

She obeyed without question, knowing that the situation was too serious to bicker. Thank God. The rocky wall did not make for easy climbing, its ledges too shallow to offer helpful hand and footholds, but she made progress all the same, James reaching blindly behind him to push her upwards and discern her progress, their circumstances too serious for him to afford blushes to propriety when his hands blindly met the smooth, toned flesh of her thighs and calves.

Especially when, at his next kick, his foot struck something solid. In response, the water before him rippled in a way it had not before – a way that was not natural, indicating disturbance below the surface. Water ceased dripping down upon his head, and he knew Theodora had cleared the climb. That, at least, offered relief.

"Grab my hand, James! Grab my hand!" she was screaming down at him.

He looked up and saw her leaning entirely over the ledge from the waist down, arm outstretched to him, eyes wide and desperate. If his heart pounded in his chest anymore, he'd surely have a heart attack. Forcing control upon his breathing, he was already debating whether it would be safe to switch the knife from his right hand to his left, when a splash sounded behind him, and a terrible, gaping and jagged maw was surfacing up through the water and heading straight at him.

Its mistake, had it been capable of reason, was that. For there was no water to slow down his arm. Lashing out with the knife, James slashed strongly and blindly both at its snout. The first slash made little difference, but the returning one he dug in deeper, and aborted the beast's attack at the last possible moment. A hot sensation ran down his arm, but he knew not whether it was his blood or that of the shark's. If the former, he had little time left in this water. It was a miracle he'd survived thus far.

Before it could recover, he spun, and Theodora's hands were grabbing his, clamping around his forearm as he grasped her own. She hadn't backed up an inch when it lunged. With his other hand, he wedged the knife between his teeth, stomach churning at the taste of blood and saltwater as it dripped between his teeth, and yanked himself up, assisted by her tireless, and surprisingly strong pulling.

One more haul – on his part, and on hers – had him clearing the edge, and they fell onto the rocky ground in a tangle of limbs and sodden clothing. The water over the ledge went quiet, as if it had never contained anything at all.

A/N: :^) - no, WAIT…. ~~~~~~~~~^~~~~~~~~~~~\o/~~~~~

Listen, if you know me AT ALL, you know how hard it was for me to keep this under my hat without making any dumb jokes or giving the game away with any hints. (Save for one shark meme that popped up by chance on my dash the other day, because that was just too funny and too perfect.) For months. Especially to the friends I've made through fic writing, who read this. I thought I was going to explode. Fucking hell.

Anyway, my party trick is being able to recite the Indianapolis speech from Jaws perfectly from memory and it shows.

#ctw #catch the wind #ftt #fallen through time esta-elavaris #james/theodora #james x theodora #pirates of the caribbean fanfiction #pirates of the caribbean fanfic #potcfic #james norrington fanfiction #james norrington fanfic #james norrington x oc #james norrington/oc

[esta-elavaris]

Part Fourteen [2,710 words] ~ James Norrington/OC

An AU of my completed, 400k+ word fanfic Catch the Wind [AO3], in which Elizabeth, not James, is the one to discover Theodora Byrne after she crash-lands into the world of Pirates of the Caribbean.

Page breaks by cafekitsune.

Also now on AO3 and FF.net.

Masterpost - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Ten - Part Eleven - Part Twelve - Part Thirteen - *Part Fourteen* [you're here!]

Tag list [let me know if you want to be added!]: @teawithshakespeare @missfronkensteen @dancerinthestorm

A/N: What's a cheeky early update between friends? Not gonna make a habit of it - but as long as I keep to my 'one update a week' thing, I don't see the point in this gathering dust in my documents ✨

While the menfolk were gone, Theo and Elizabeth kept much to their usual routine, although it was filled with less of the usual mirth than it had once been. If she was being honest, Theo had barely noticed that, her mind elsewhere, but after almost two full weeks of it, Elizabeth appeared to decide that it had gone on quite long enough.

Never one to let things lie if she was discontent with them, she strode into Theo’s bedroom one night in her nightgown, plopped herself down beside her on the bed, and addressed her without preamble.

“I understand you’re upset. You’ve every right to be. But I must point out that I am not among those who deserve to be punished for what happened that night.”

Theo blinked her surprise, watching Elizabeth with muted curiosity. That was the key word, she supposed. Muted.

“I’m not punishing you for anything,” she said quietly.

“You are not yourself,” Elizabeth replied archly. “You haven’t been yourself ever since…since all of that. And as I said, I understand that, but I do not deserve to be on the receiving end of it.”

“You don’t,” she replied readily. “And I’m not. Punishing you, I mean. I’m not doing that.”

Even the senior of the Swanns – Elizabeth’s father – had offered her a brief, awkward, but sincere apology for what had gone on that night. Either Elizabeth had pointed out to him that not all gathered had shared his spirit of everything being in good fun, or he’d realised it himself after sobering up, and after hearing the whispers about town. The Governor didn’t have to do that, she hadn’t blamed him for it either because he hadn’t meant harm, her ire was saved primarily for Amelia and Norrington, but she still appreciated the gesture all the same. They were good people, the Swanns.

“Then what are you doing?” Elizabeth entreated.

Her legs folded beneath her, she leaned forward and rested a hand on her arm. Theo, haltingly, placed her own hand over it.

Theo paused, debating on her answer. The thoughts that had been steadily circling her mind, on and on, ever since that disastrous dinner party, weren’t something she’d planned on sharing with any here. Not just because Elizabeth was the only person she really could share them with at all, but because she knew Elizabeth herself would not receive them well.

But maybe it was better than her thinking that she’d spontaneously decided to hate her.

“I got too comfortable. That night was a reminder not to do that. I can’t pretend it was a welcome reminder, but…it was a necessary one.”

She felt most like herself like this – if she ignored the excess of frills and lace and white linen that she sported from the collarbones down, anyway. Her hair unbound, rather than forced into a ridiculous updo, no corset, no seventy skirts, no bows, no satin slippers, and no jewellery other than that which she brought with her. Sure, she didn’t hate the adornments – sometimes they were even fun – but they weren’t her. She’d been reminded of that now, and she wasn’t in a rush to forget it.

“Too comfortable? What? Here?” Elizabeth’s hand slipped away, but she didn’t shift back.

“Not…not here as in here, with you, in your home. But in the general, wider sense of the word, yeah. I got too comfortable?”

“I don’t understand!”

“I don’t belong here, Elizabeth. It’s not my world. I’m- I’m three centuries out of time. I have no business swanning about, developing crushes-”

“Crushes?” Elizabeth’s dark eyes regarded her with concern. “Is…is that an ailment? Is it serious?”

“No, it just means to…to take a liking to someone.”

The concern changed to hurt, and she had to rush to clarify.

“In a way that means more than friendship. I wasn’t talking about you.”

Although if she had to keep clarifying that particular part of what was about to be a very impassioned speech, she’d find herself once again fleeing up the stairs in a fit of mortification. The sorrow that softened Elizabeth’s face then didn’t help matters. Her cheeks began to burn.

“Oh, Theo,” she sighed.

“It’s not like you didn’t know.”

“Yes, but you never admitted it.”

“I didn’t fully realise it until that night – when it was…” stamped all over and promptly set on fire, “…shown to be the idiocy that it was.”

“He looked positively wretched after the fact, you know.”

“Good.”

In order to settle for that one-worded response, she had to push down quite a few arguments – all of which she had no energy for. The primary one being that he probably only looked so wretched because he knew his little display would earn him Elizabeth’s scorn. But maybe that was the reason behind his actions. Not only to show Theo herself exactly where she sat in his estimations, but to show Elizabeth, too. If not the whole of Port Royal.

But mostly just Elizabeth. She’d certainly teased Theo enough about whatever spark she was so sure she’d seen, it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that she’d made similar comments to Norrington, and he’d seen fit to act accordingly. Especially after his ruse and been rumbled, and he had no reason to keep…to keep pretending that he…

She reined her emotions in before the lump in her throat could grow into something more embarrassing like, god forbid, tears. Instead, she turned her mind to practical matters. Like leaving. Because she’d spoken honestly to Elizabeth – it had been a sorely needed reminder, and she’d begun to piece together the beginnings of a plan.

That would’ve been part of why others were seeing a change in her. Not only because she no longer had the heart to put on a cheery face and make an effort with the people who had tittered and delighted in that display, but because she really was distracted. So she fell back to the sidelines – in spirit, when she couldn’t do so physically, kept her mouth shut, and retreated inward.

There were only two people she could think of from this story who might harbour knowledge of other worlds. The first was Davy Jones. His job, even if he ignored it, was distinctly supernatural in nature, and unlike Barbossa it wasn’t just a curse that had been unwittingly rained down upon him. It was possible that career instilled him with some knowledge beyond mortal means. However, she highly doubted he’d be inclined to help.

The other, far more obvious, choice was…well. His ex-girlfriend. And, being a goddess, she packed a hell of a lot more of a punch. The odds of Calypso being able to help her were greater, and – if she was doing her best to be optimistic – her inclination to help her might also be weighted in Theo’s benefit. But therein lay the problem. Because to get to her, she’d have to go through Captain Jack Sparrow, and she was barely more confident that he’d want to help her than she was that Jones ever would.

“I don’t know what his motives were – I can hardly pretend otherwise, because I cannot fathom what he was thinking – but he is not a bad man, Theo. There would have been a reason. However much it backfired.”

“You see a very different side to him than I do,” she replied. “He’s in love with you. It only makes sense that he makes sure you only see the highlight reel.”

The phrasing was odd, but Elizabeth seemed to get the spirit of what she was saying.

“I’ve known him for years. Years. Only the most artful social climber could pull off such a façade, and he has little taste for that mode of being. If he despised you, he would simply avoid you. He’s been doing the very opposite of that.”

“To pry information from me. To make sure that you are safe.”

“He’s not in love with me.”

Theo could only laugh at that. It didn’t go appreciated.

“He’s not!” Elizabeth said firmly, thinly controlled ire burning in her eyes. “Perhaps once he was. Perhaps now he thinks he still is, Theo, but he’s not. I just wish he would realise that.”

What could she say in response to that? Elizabeth had the trump card in this discussion each and every time – how long she’d known him. There was little Theo could say that the other woman wouldn’t confidently beat back with that fact, over and over again, even if Theo herself thought that it made precious little difference.

The only thing she could possibly use in favour of her argument was the movies, but Elizabeth knew nothing of them – nor Theo’s knowledge of them. If she unveiled that now, she’d show herself up as a liar to the only real friend and ally she had here, and she couldn’t face that. Even if it was selfish of her.

But the silence was taken as a sign of weakness, and Elizabeth seized on it to further her point. Her hand reached out again, taking her hand and using it to lever herself forward until she sat shoulder-to-shoulder with her on the bed, speaking softly.

“Captain Norrington is a man who prides himself in his plans. He sets goals, he meets them, he deviates from them only when necessary – and is only flexible with them when the heat of battle calls for it. Maybe he did fall for me, I do not live in his mind so I cannot say-”

“He did.”

“If you’re so certain, I’ll believe you. But you must believe me when I say I am certain of this – he has changed, since he got to know you. But he’s…he’s so committed to his original plan, and the way he thinks things should be, that he won’t let himself see it. That is the impediment. His inflexibility. Not his feelings. And if I’m as right as I’m sure I am, he’ll be going through a rotten time now because of it.”

Another ‘good’ was on the tip of her tongue in response to that last bit, but she didn’t have the heart to say it.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” she said instead.

Although she took the bite from her words by leaning against Elizabeth, and squeezing her hand.

She squeezed back. “It does. You just share a common trait. You’re both too stubborn to see what’s directly in front of you.”

James Norrington had been in a foul mood ever since setting sail. Or, to be more accurate, since the night before setting sail.  

Having plans backfire was part and parcel of a naval career – or, indeed, sailing at all. But none had ever backfired quite so marvellously as his had that night, and…and her face haunted him. Haunted was an extreme word, melodramatic even, and he was not given to melodrama, but it was the only one that truly fit the bill. And many men might class themselves as lucky, to have the face of a fair woman so stuck within their minds during, if not their every waking moment, then certainly a great deal of them, but it was the expression on her face that he could not rid himself of.

The same expression, levelled at him three times throughout the night. Firstly, during that moment in the gardens. Then, when he supported Miss Simmonds’ ploy. Then, the final time, during that terrible encounter at the foot of the stairs. Each time, it increased in severity, and each time it struck him with the same force as a physical blow might – not least because how she usually allowed others to see little other than mirth.

If she showed her hurt, it was because it was so great that she could no longer bring herself to conceal it. And he was the one who’d caused it.

It mattered little that he had not meant to. No, indeed, it did not matter at all.

Those looks, even from the first, had his heart sinking further than he thought her capable of instilling in him – than he thought any capable of instilling in him. And while James was not prone to flights of fancy, he was sure in those moments, while they were being levelled his way, that he’d promise her all he owned if it would only take that expression off of her face.

And no higher power had opted to be merciful on him that night – not that he deserved it – for it hadn’t ended there. Her parting words, though they had not impacted him quite as much in the moment, had grown to gnaw on him endlessly, more and more with each day that went by.

You'll be rid of me soon enough.

It had the sound of a vow to it. An oath. To the extent where he expected – where he feared – that he would return to Port Royal, only to find she’d departed for Ireland in his absence. Or the Americas, perhaps. It didn’t matter, for either way he would find her gone, and though the prospect of her absence alone troubled him greatly, two other things bothered him when it came to that particular notion. The first, that he couldn’t quite pinpoint when the moment came that he began to view such an outcome not as a goal, nor a boon, but something to dread.

The second plagued him more. For the realisation that Miss Swann would scorn him for such an outcome was a delayed one – and, further still, even after he realised it, it was not his primary concern. And he could hardly pinpoint when that had changed, either.

Undoubtedly, the men had noticed his foul mood, along with how it only worsened with each day. It wasn’t as though he did much to hide it, regardless of the fact that those who had not witnessed the debacle firsthand would have heard the whispers of it since, and all would therefore know exactly why he was so displeased.

Perhaps they’d think his worries were based where they should have been. That he feared returning to find his standing with Miss Swann drastically lowered. If they suspected otherwise, they kept their whispers out of his earshot – even Groves, who had so openly voiced his bemusement at his actions made no further mention of it.

He had not explained his reasoning to the Lieutenant when he’d asked, but he suspected the question had been somewhat rhetorical in nature.

Explaining it would not justify it, in any case. It had been a gamble – but like all gambles, he only saw just how preposterous it was when it well and truly went up in smoke.

Timing was at the crux of it. That was his only excuse as to why he’d acted as he had without thinking it through properly. For Theod- Miss Byrne had been angry, and she’d been…well, while not drunk, certainly under the sway of the strong wine that the Governor liked to offer his guests. If she was ever going to allow a crack to form in her façade, it would have been then. If she was of higher birth than he’d suspected (and that fact was looking doubtful now), she would have played well out of spite, in that state.

What would have followed was a foolish daydream. He’d corner her and, seeing that the game was over, she’d confess everything in a flurry of tears, finally entrusting him with her true origins, and endeavouring to secure his help – which he would offer unconditionally.

Only it didn’t happen like that, did it? No, instead he’d embarrassed her twice in a row, and then finished things off by – for all he knew – driving her from Port Royal entirely. And even if she was there when he returned, she’d likely never speak to him again. And that, he feared, would be even worse than her absence.

And, though he’d so often wondered at just how little he could work out about Theodora Byrne, he knew one thing. Regaining a place in her good graces would be all but impossible. Not after a minor slight, perhaps, but after humiliation heaped on humiliation? Few could forgive that. Few should forgive that.

God, but he was a fool.

#catch the wind #ctw #james/theodora #fallen through time esta-elavaris #ftt #james norrington/oc #james norrington x oc #pirates of the caribbean fanfiction #pirates of the caribbean fanfic #potcfic #james norrington fanfiction #james norrington fanfic

[esta-elavaris]

Part Twelve [2,590 words] ~ James Norrington/OC

An AU of my completed, 400k+ word fanfic Catch the Wind [AO3], in which Elizabeth, not James, is the one to discover Theodora Byrne after she crash-lands into the world of Pirates of the Caribbean.

Page breaks by cafekitsune.

Also now on AO3 and FF.net.

Masterpost - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Ten - Part Eleven - *Part Twelve* [you're here!]

Tag list [let me know if you want to be added!]: @missfronkensteen @teawithshakespeare @dancerinthestorm

"I have a surprise for you."

Norrington looked aghast at her words, and Theo grinned, laughing and quickly continuing before he could get up and sprint back to the Interceptor. Or maybe just directly into the ocean. Whatever he continued to be the swiftest form of escape.

"You can relax, it's not for you. But you had a pretty big hand in it, so I wanted you to be the first to see it."

"The necklace?"

It could never be said that he wasn't shrewd. Or that she didn't have a way or making things painfully obvious, she supposed.

"The necklace," she confirmed, sifting through her skirts until she found the pockets sewn within.

"Wouldn't I be the third to see it, then? Behind Turner and yourself?"

"If I knew that you were going to be like this about it, you'd have been the twentieth."

"The twenty-first would've been too insulting?"

"Had to save a spot for Amelia."

"I shall keep the rest of my comments to myself, so I'm not catapulted further still down the list."

"Mm – any more snark and I'd have to put you square behind taking it to the cells in Fort Charles to show the folk there before I let you see it."

"In which case I would have to give permission – which I would only bestow if you allowed me to see the necklace, as recompense."

"I bow down to a skilled tactician," she said drily.

Of course, her deadpan humoured was dulled a bit by the smile on her face, but she couldn't help it. Who could have ever thought that the inscrutable James Norrington would ever be willing to sit and chat nonsense with her – unbegrudgingly, and with a smile on his face? It beggared belief. And she enjoyed it more than she should.

"It's not an exact replica. They're not so much twins as sisters, but I kind of like that," she explained, drawing the little cloth pouch from her skirts. "It'd be a bit to twee if we were cutting about in matching jewellery."

"Cutting about?"

"Yes, yes, she speaks like a weird little commoner, we know this."

"I was not mocking you," he said simply.

He looked tempted to add something else and she waited patiently for him to do so, but when he finally did, she had the feeling it wasn't what he originally intended to say.

"Must I beg, if I wish to see this necklace?"

"Is that an offer?"

"No," came his emphatic response.

Theo laughed, unwrapping it and then dangling it by the chain before him. The pendant was around the same size as her own, and shone just as brightly, but with small curling designs running along the edges of the shape. Will had explained the reasoning for this – something to do with imperfections in the only silver he'd been able to squirrel away for use, and how this disguised them. But they were very pretty, so she'd hardly been inclined to complain in the first place.

He looked at the necklace – truly looked at it, rather than just fixing his eyes in its general direction for a polite amount of time before he went on to rattle off some sort of canned, polite compliment. The action made Theo more nervous than she let on. Sure, she'd borrowed some of Elizabeth's jewellery here and there for social gatherings, but he'd spent his whole life surrounded by the fashions and the ways of this time. If something was up with the necklace, he'd see it immediately.

Once upon a time, she would have expected him to therefore voice it immediately, too. But now she honestly couldn't say whether she'd expect that from him or not – for he was kinder than she'd first realised. Even if he probably wouldn't thank her for pointing it out.

"It's a fine piece," he said, holding it up to the light and nodding with approval that appeared perfectly sincere. "I'm sure Miss Swann will be ecstatic."

"I hope she will be. It's just such a relief to finally be able to do something nice for her," she admitted, accepting the necklace back.

He cleared his throat, perhaps uncomfortable with the sincere tone their conversation was taking, then he hesitated for a moment before he spoke.

"You must know that neither of the Swanns would hold any expectation in that regard."

"Of course I do. That just makes it worse. If they begrudged what they gave me, I'd feel less bad about it."

"Ireland must be a strange land indeed," he snorted.

Although there was something in his tone that suggested he knew exactly what she meant.

"No," she sighed, only half-joking. "Just me."

Thankfully, he chose that moment to steer them into less choppy, awkward waters.

"I'm curious. You're well-read, and you mentioned missing your books from home. What do you ordinarily read?"

Had she not been trying to rein in a very mortifying bout of emotions, she might've realised how that had the potential to be a dangerous question – given the time discrepancy.

"Whatever I can get my hands on. It depends on my mood. History…"

By that, she meant salacious autobiographies of her favourite musicians.

"…Philosophy…"

That one, at least, he could take at face value.

"…Horror," she added.

"Horror?" he frowned.

Well. It looked like that hadn't been invented yet. Great. Although she shouldn't have really been surprised, she supposed – what book invented it? He'd been pretty generous in describing her as well-read, but she wasn't an expert on literature, nor educated on it enough to know when certain genres began or how. She could guess that horror began as gothic literature and morphed a bit, and it did seem a bit early even for that. Although she wasn't sure what signs she could look for. Amelia stomping about the town in Demonia platforms and black lipstick? Annoyingly, she'd probably be able to pull it off.

Alas, she'd dug herself into this hole now – so she might as well start making it hospitable.

"Horror – stories of…of ghosts, and the supernatural, and of people who do terrible things."

"It hardly sounds like the stuff of recreational reading."

"It makes sense, once you dig into it."

"By all means, explain it to me."

From anybody else, it might've felt condescending. Hell, from him it would have been condescending only a few weeks ago. But instead, as he spoke, he watched her with open curiosity – with expectation. Not because he was waiting for her to make an absolute tit out of herself, but because he genuinely expected that what she was about to say might be interesting. From James Norrington, that was damn high praise.

"It…it provides a safe avenue to explore those feelings," she cringed at how new-age faux-intellectual that sounded, especially to someone who had actually fought in battles out at sea, and quickly continued. "For someone who's never experienced real fear, or real danger, if they get really engrossed in a story full of those things, they experience that fear. Obviously to a far, far lesser extent, but it's something. It's better than nothing. I'm not saying a book'll turn them into some grizzled war veteran-"

"Like myself?" he asked drily.

"You're not grizzled," she snorted. "Reading horror is just…microdosing danger."

"Microdosing danger?"

Was she hallucinating, or was that an amused smile on his face? One that wasn't even grudging? God, she was at risk of swooning.

"Yeah, like-"

"I can guess your meaning well enough, even if I've never heard the phrasing before."

"Look at us, bridging the language barrier. You've a promising career in diplomacy ahead of you."

"By God, I hope not. If you'd been paying attention, you would have seen that my skill lies in conflict."

"So does diplomacy, really."

"Diplomats cannot utilise cannons in their work."

"Maybe you could be the first."

He rolled his eyes and she couldn't help but laugh fondly, wrenching them back to the topic at hand. There was only so much of her nonsense that he'd willingly tolerate before he excused himself, and she enjoyed his company.

"There's something thrilling about it, too. Scaring yourself when there isn't anything real to be scared of. Monsters, evil, the like. It can be exciting."

"Spoken like one who has never encountered monsters, nor evil," he said flatly.

"You don't know what I've seen."

She meant the words to be teasing – referring to what she knew lay ahead, perhaps, or maybe just the sight of her dad's brothers-in-arms hungover on a Sunday morning. James didn't laugh, which wasn't that surprising, but nor did he roll his eyes. Instead, he looked…well, not quite stricken, but suddenly very solemn indeed, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly for a moment before he forced his lips together. Bowing his head, he cleared his throat and then looked back at her again, very much the solemn Captain Norrington.

"You are right – I do not. My apologies."

Theo blinked in surprise. She'd gotten fairly decent, although far from infallible, when it came to gauging her daft little jokes here, but Norrington's sincere and solemn response caught her off guard. Not least because he watched her keenly now. Was there something she should be saying?

"Er…don't worry about it. I was only being silly."

He continued looking at her for a few long moments, and she couldn't help but feel like whatever he'd wished for her to say, that hadn't been it.

Governor Swann was holding a dinner party that evening – for the seniormost men in Port Royal who were about to make sail. It was a tradition that the Governor himself had founded shortly after arriving in Port Royal, ensuring that the men about to leave at least got one good meal in, as well as a bit of entertaining company, before they went off to see to their duty. Ordinarily, it was something James merely endured. Yes, he often found he enjoyed the evenings more than he expected to, but that lack of expectation seldom had anything to do with the company he would find there.

He'd more than earned his reputation of being a man of duty. Whatever minor gripes he had with how they extended to whispers that he had no sense of humour, or that he could find no joy in anything but duty, he could roll his eyes and brush off such comments. Not least because of the small amount of truth in them – for on the nights before he was due to leave Port Royal, he simply had no desire to spend the last of his time making small-talk in drawing rooms. No, he would much prefer to instead spend it making sure that everything was in order, including his thoughts, before he left.

This voyage would require no extensive preparations. It was more of a patrol than a real mission. A short journey through the surrounding waters, aimed at both ensuring those waters were safe, maintaining a tangible presence for any foul eyes who may be watching with malintent, and to stop their wits from dulling during extensive time inland.

Still, James found himself disgruntled at what lay ahead…and all because of a conversation he'd had with Governor Swann himself, that morning as they walked the battlements of Fort Charles.

"Elizabeth is ecstatic at the prospect of tonight – it's her first chance to show off her gift from Miss Byrne. I don't suppose you've seen it?"

"No," he lied. "I have not. What is it?"

If he told the truth of the matter, there ran a real risk of credit being attributed to him, and not Miss Byrne. He had no risk to detract from her victory. Not when he'd seen how jubilant it made her.

"A necklace – a pretty little trinket, to be sure. It won't be featured next to the Crown Jewels any time soon, but the sentimental value behind the piece far outshines those in the eyes of my daughter."

James chuckled. "I'm sure it does."

"Truth be told, I was worried about the influence our guest may have on her, but I've discovered those worries were all for naught. Miss Byrne has certainly brightened up her days considerably. Thick as thieves, those two."

"Good. I'm glad."

Worryingly, he found he even meant that. Mostly.

"You never know, perhaps Miss Byrne will find herself a suitor during one such evening as tonight."

Stilling, James blinked and looked up at the Governor. "A suitor?"

"Come, Captain," the Governor chuckled, misunderstanding his shock. "She has her eccentricities, but she's fair. Some may even profess to find her charming, in her way. If we cannot find her father, and if he does not find us, or if he cannot find us, God help him, we must…look to the future. She could do far worse for herself than a strapping young lieutenant. Although, I grant you, it would have to be one with good humour."

There were only two lieutenants who came to mind at all, and the latter part of Governor Swann's statement firmly ruled out Gillette from the running. Although he had to admit, it would make a good show to see Gillette trying to woo a woman such as Theodora Byrne. But Groves? The notion of Groves doing so filled him with less humour. And how could it not, he reasoned? They knew nothing of her background, nor how that background may impact whether she was eligible at all. That was the source of his discomfort. Nothing more.

The memory of the conversation had James' lips thinning. Hopefully Governor Swann had less of a stomach for matchmaking than his daughter did.

Ordinarily, this turn of events would have been a great help. Elizabeth could no longer fill her mind with misguided notions regarding himself and Theodora if Miss Byrne was occupied with the attentions of Groves, that much was true. It would have been an exceedingly neat little solution. One, he was sure, he would have personally encouraged – were it not for the extraneous factors.

And as for those extraneous factors, he was certain – truly certain – that he was getting somewhere. You don't know what I've seen. When they'd first met, she never would have admitted such a thing aloud to him. This camaraderie that had grown between them, that very same camaraderie that surprised him in how little he had to feign or resort to pretence in order to achieve it, and worried him in how natural and easy it felt, was working.

Was it wrong for him to find happiness in that? More than the mere satisfaction in achieving an important aim, but the true pleasure in having gained the confidence of a woman – a person – who had shown themselves to be truly decent, whatever her secrets? For he was good at sniffing out artifice and foul intentions, and while Theodora had some of the former about her, she had none of the latter. Today, he'd almost even slipped up and admitted that he liked her strange little idioms and turn of phrase, but he held himseld back. Thankfully. For that could very well be misread, and spook her. And when she did finally confide in him, as he was growing more and more hopeful that she would, he would in turn finally be able to help her.

The notion of Groves swooping in and courting her was just that. A mere notion. A passing possibility planted in his mind by an errant comment of Governor Swann's – a fleeting comment he probably now had no recollection of making, for it meant so little. It was not set in stone, and it only bothered James personally because he might undo the progress he was making here. That was all.

Yes. That was all.

#catch the wind #ctw #james/theodora #fallen through time esta-elavaris #ftt #james norrington/oc #james norrington x oc #pirates of the caribbean fanfiction #pirates of the caribbean fanfic #potcfic #james norrington fanfiction #james norrington fanfic

[esta-elavaris]

Part Fifteen [4,160 words] ~ James Norrington/OC

An AU of my completed, 400k+ word fanfic Catch the Wind [AO3], in which Elizabeth, not James, is the one to discover Theodora Byrne after she crash-lands into the world of Pirates of the Caribbean.

Page breaks by cafekitsune.

Also now on AO3 and FF.net.

Masterpost - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Ten - Part Eleven - Part Twelve - Part Thirteen - Part Fourteen - *Part Fifteen*

Tag list [let me know if you want to be added!]: @teawithshakespeare @missfronkensteen @dancerinthestorm

It turned out, much to Theo's hidden dismay, that the going-away dinner was a natural precursor to the welcome back dinner that those in Port Royal liked to throw for the higher-ranking returning sailors after a spell away. It was a good chance, Elizabeth explained, to acknowledge their losses if there were any, to celebrate the lack of those losses if their luck held true, and to give the men their first good meal since they'd set sail. It was a way for them to blow off steam in a classy way, essentially. Unless Norrington was coming, because it was her own personal opinion that deception and humiliation weren't particularly classy – but what would Theo know? She was Irish, after all.

Elizabeth, being Elizabeth, wanted her to wear something evil for the dinner. Evil, here, having the meaning of show-stoppingly beautiful. She'd refused, flat out. Not only because she didn't have the heart for it, but because it'd be transparent and very pathetic, and only make her feel more ridiculous than she already did around most of those whose names were on the guest list. There was no desire in her to show him what he was missing, or anything that reached those levels of utter meltery, because he wasn't missing anything, and she didn't want him to miss anything. She was done. What was the point in playing games that she'd find no fun in?

Only when she insisted that if the matter was pushed, she'd fake a sudden illness and spend the night in her bedroom, in her nightgown, did Elizabeth relent. Highly begrudgingly. At least until she caught the pallor creeping into Theo's face, and the tremor in her hand, as the prospect of the night ahead saturated her with dread, and then their spat was over before it had even truly begun.

So, the lengths of red satin that her friend had been trying to push upon her were replaced by a muted jade gown that had delicate white flowers working its way up from the hem of the skirts, along with the bottom of the bodice. Her one concession was the fabric of the underskirts – a brilliant emerald green that peeked out from the gap in the middle between the overskirts. The hair was understated, too, the updo more a simple collection of curls all bound together rather than something that had her resembling a skyscraper. Finally, she wore her own necklace from home about her neck, more of a totem than an accessory tonight, so she could at least feel like her dad was here with her in some way. In truth, she missed him more sorely now than she had since arriving here, and even the thought was almost enough to send her into a fit of tears.

But she couldn't afford that tonight. Maybe that made the necklace a mistake, but she couldn't bring herself to remove it once it was on.

Tonight would be the worst of it. The first time having to face him again – but at least she'd do so while knowing that his maid, Hattie, would've told him that she returned whatever books of his had still been in her care. Now, he would have no reason at all to speak with her. He'd like that.

James knew that, had Theodora departed, he would have heard so soon upon returning to Port Royal. And while he heard no such thing, he still hadn't the heart to outright ask – not even his own staff – so he remained silent, and when he entered the Governor's mansion that eve, he was relieved when it took no time at all to spot a head of fiery hair among the crowd. Although the relief was hardly devoid of other, more mixed emotions.

He should apologise. That was not a conclusion that it took him a great deal of time to reach. It would be the right thing to do – the gentlemanly thing to do, even if he was not a gentleman in the technical sense of the word. Nor in the looser sense, if his behaviour as of late was any indicator.

However…she had also asked him to leave her be. It was impossible to respect that wish, while also doing the right thing, which left him with the dilemma of which course of action was more right. The answer was the one he liked least. That he should simply leave her be, as she wanted.

And whatever relief he felt at seeing she was still here was in danger of evaporating when he saw more of her throughout the evening. Her face, and her general demeanour. How often had he thought to himself that there must be nothing under the sun that could possibly dampen her utterly indomitable spirit? Her humour? While the thought had once exasperated him, he now wished his theory had not proven incorrect. It helped nothing that he was the cause of it.

He kept his distance throughout the night, and she did not look at him once, but even when she was on the opposite side of the room from him (which she often was), she did not brighten. While James was placed at Governor Swann's end of the table, Theodora was at Elizabeth's, with Groves at her other side, to her left.

It soon became apparent that he didn't even need to pretend he was not taking stock of her, stealing swift glances here and there when he was sure she was distracted and would not catch him, for she didn't look at him at all. She barely looked at anybody, her eyes downcast and her face distant. It was not the manner of one who was in the midst of a strop – intent on making sure those around her felt the full weight of her displeasure via the mode of uncomfortable silence. So, while she did not smile, she didn't scowl either. When spoken to, she replied, and when spoken at, she listened patiently. But she was not there. Not truly. She did not flee in defeat, but she had put down her sword.

And that fact alone was enough to have his heart sinking down to his shoes.

Dinner passed without incident, and when they moved to the sitting room so that the servants could clear the aftermath of the meal, Groves and Elizabeth seemed in no hurry to leave Theodora's side. As hostess, Elizabeth was soon forced to do so and mingle, but Groves remained, although he appeared content to simply remain by her side rather than engaging in further attempts to pry conversation from her. All the while, her eyes remained far off, much as he suspected his own did when he was busy running over mental preparations for whatever voyage lay ahead.

She looked fetching tonight. Nothing new, really, for she was a fair woman – factually speaking. Bedecked in green which flattered her colouring, and not bedecked in ruffles or jewels that would only distract from the beauty that she herself held. But the difference was that, tonight, she was not as striking as she usually was. Not without the teasing grins, or the glimmer in her eye that so oft betrayed a wealth of things she was not saying.

What it took to snap her back into the room was something he wished had not happened at all. Amelia Simmonds flounced over to the pianoforte, and sat down before it with a flourish. Not content to make a point by halves, she flew into a complex piece that would have had even James himself impressed at her skill – had she not been who she was, and had she not harboured the motive she did. Instead, it only stoked his ire, perhaps pettily content that he had another to level at it who was not himself.

The performance was nearing its end when he looked back towards Theodora again, finding that this time, for the first time, she was looking at him. Indifference still veiled her expression, but this time it was just that – a veil. One hand toyed with the pendant about her neck, seeking comfort, as she watched him silently, as though waiting for a repeat of what had occurred the last time they found themselves in this setting. He knew the fact that he'd been caught changed his expression, but it did not change hers. She gave nothing away. Which, in itself, gave something away, for being so guarded was unlike her. And he'd caused the change.

Finally, after what seemed like an age, she looked away. Murmuring something to Groves, she took a step back, and then turned, departing otherwise without notice. Intent, he supposed, on not offering up another opportunity.

James debated on whether he should follow, but as another seized their chance to play, Amelia was by his side.

"My, Miss Swann really did tame the wild beast, did she not?" Amelia asked with glee.

He realised then, with a dull sense of horror, that she viewed him as an ally against the woman she had pinned all of her ire upon, the moment Theodora had washed up on their shores. Said horror was no longer so dull when he was forced to concede that Amelia's assumption was not unfounded.

"Perhaps she should open a finishing school," she continued. "Or a dog kennel – for training, you understand."

"You are making a fool of yourself, madam," he said flatly.

The grin slipped from her face as she blinked up at him, but she recovered swiftly and forced a laugh.

"No, Captain, I'm making a fool of her."

"Then why, might I ask, is it you that appears ignorant, and not Miss Byrne?"

He took his leave before she could answer, following in the direction Theodora had departed, although he knew not what he would do if he found her.

It seemed another had already beaten him to accompany her, though. Lieutenant Groves' voice met his ears, drifting from the dining room that had already been cleared, and James stilled by the doorway, listening with something that felt dangerously and heavily akin to dread. For the Lieutenant's voice was soft in a way that denoted more than a desire to simply speak quietly.

"I was wondering if I might call upon you tomorrow morning. For…for tea, or perhaps a turn about the gardens. Whichever you'd like best. Or something else, if you'd rather."

"…Why?" Theodora's voice was filled with genuine confusion.

Groves breathed a nervous laugh, faltered for a moment, and then replied.

"Forgive me, but…I think you know why. I should very much like to get to know you, Miss Byrne."

"Oh…I…I see…"

It was silent then, for a few long moments – moments that felt all the longer for how terrible they were, as James wondered if he would find them locked in some sort of embrace if he chanced a look inside the room.

"Lieutenant…" she said finally, falteringly.

James despised the treacherous relief and joy both that coursed through him, for that mode of address entirely betrayed what her answer would be. And it should not have made him happy. Not for Groves' sake, not for Theodora's, and certainly not for his own.

"Please, call me Theodore. Unless it's too absurd for you to say with a straight face, considering how alike it is to yours."

She did not laugh at his teasing.

"I don't intend to be here much longer. But…if you want to come and visit as a friend, I'd love that."

Scarcely two full seconds went by before Groves was responding.

"You're leaving?"

"When I can find the right time, yes."

"Why? Because of…the other night…?"

"Not entirely because of it. I'm not that pathetic. If it was anything, it was a wake-up call. I don't belong here, and I don't want to be anywhere I don't belong. What point is there wasting my energy pretending otherwise? Everybody knows it."

"I think you're allowing yourself to be defeated. If I may be so bold as to say it outright."

"There's surrendering to needless defeat, and then there's recognising that the battle isn't worth fighting in the first place," she said, resignation filling her voice more than woe or self-pity. "I want to be somewhere where people understand me. Where they actually like and know me. That's not wrong. Elizabeth does, Elizabeth has been…has been so impossibly good to me. But I can't spend all of my time cowering behind her skirts and expecting her to stick up for me amongst this lot. It's not fair on her, and I don't want her to. I'm tired, Lieutenant. I've been tired ever since I arrived here. I don't think that's going to change if I remain."

Tired, James knew, was a code for the emotions she would not admit to. Fear, and melancholy. Amongst others.

Groves sighed.

"Very well. But I still insist that you call me Theodore."

"And if it is too absurd?" there was a smile in her voice now – the first display of mirth James' had caught from her all evening.

"I've never been much attached to it. We can brainstorm a new one for me when I visit tomorrow."

"You still want to visit?" surprise coloured her voice.

"You just said we shall be friends," he pointed out.

Theodora breathed a surprised laugh, and he could hear the smile in her voice as she replied.

"Good, then. I'll have a list ready. How do you feel about Beauregard?"

"I feel hopeful that the rest of the list will be more promising," Groves chuckled.

Knowing it was only a matter of time before he was either missed or caught, he turned…and found himself face to face with Elizabeth Swann. Judging by the look she shot in the direction of the room Groves and Theodora occupied, she had heard everything just as he had – and by the one she then levelled at him personally, his reaction had not gone unnoticed.

At first, it looked like she might speak, but the sound of shuffling reached their ears, and it would not be long before they were discovered. So, she nodded in the direction of the passageway that would lead out onto the patio, and then the gardens. James obeyed. He didn't have much choice in the matter, although he held little optimism about what words might pass between them. His last conversation in the Governor's gardens had hardly gone well.

They stepped out into the night, mostly overcast which meant they would not be seen easily here, and Elizabeth turned to him, watching him expectantly. James cleared his throat.

"I feel I must apologise," he said.

She nodded.

"If my actions have caused any awkwardness between you and Miss Byrne, for I know she has become a dear friend to you, then you have my sincerest-"

"To me?" she interrupted sharply. "You feel you must apologise to me, Captain?"

"Only because I cannot apologise to Miss Byrne."

"You cannot? Have you tried?"

"Last we spoke, she asked that I leave her be. I intend to honour that request."

"You shouldn't!"

"It is for the best," he replied firmly.

"The best for whom, Captain Norrington?!"

"For…for…"

He did not hesitate because he had no answer to her question, but rather because the answer was hardly one that he could speak aloud. The best for everybody. For Theodora, because it was what she wanted, for Elizabeth, because it would rid her of whatever suspicions he harboured about he and her friend, and for James himself because…well, it would rid him of any ill-gotten confusion. Regarding what woman he should have been spending his time thinking about.

While he could voice none of that, Elizabeth's shrewd eye seemed to catch it all on his face. Of course she saw it, she was no fool. Not in the slightest.

"May I speak frankly?" she asked finally.

While her voice held none of the sharpness it previously harboured, it was still far from gentle.

"By all means," he said – and he meant it.

Months ago, he'd have sawn off his arm with a wooden sword to have her speak frankly to him, rather than through fifty different layers of propriety and social graces. That had never been a problem for Theodora. No, she—no. That was precisely the line of thinking he was trying desperately to shake himself out of these days.

"How might you have felt, back there, had Theodora accepted Lieutenant Groves' overtures?"

Considering the dread that had seized him upon hearing said overtures, the answer was not hard to come by. It was, however, rather more difficult to admit. Even now, a worry grew in the back of his mind that he had not heard the last of the prospect of their becoming more. Many a stout romance began as friendship, and he had certainly been able to cheer her with remarkable speed. If that continued, she may decide to remain. With him.

"The private affairs of Lieutenant Groves are no business of mine," he said flatly.

Annoyance flashed in Elizabeth's dark eyes once again, as bright as a strike of lightning, even in the darkness the night cloaked them in.

"If I am to speak frankly, you must extend me the same courtesy," she warned.

"I am."

"You are not! Captain, since the last time you were here, I have barely been able to pry a conversation out of Theo. Much less a smile, or a laugh. Does that sound like her?"

Whatever small hope he'd had that her change in demeanour was simply due to his return, a ward to disabuse him of any temptation to approach, died a swift death then and there. His guilt only increased. That, at least, seemed to grant the woman before him some satisfaction where his words could not.

"No, it does not."

"I have since learned, tonight, that you have hardly been in the best of moods since that night, either."

"The gossip of sailors," he scoffed.

Ones who would find themselves buried under ungodly amounts of mind-numbingly boring tasks, once he ascertained who exactly had been spreading rumours.

"Is it?"

"I shall not pretend that I do not regret my actions that night, especially if they caused you distress in your own friendship with your guest, but-"

"She's talking about leaving, you know."

At that, he could not muster an uncaring façade.

"I do not yet know how she intends to do so, but I know that she will. It is not an idle threat. Theo does not make idle threats. Your actions and your treatment of her, she has told me, were a timely reminder that she does not belong here. That she was foolish to think otherwise, and that she was foolish to develop an attachment."

"If she believes her attachment to you was foolish because of my actions, then she-"

"To you, Captain. Not to me. To you."

"Well…I…" he finally stopped gawping long enough to respond properly. "That was misguided on her part."

"Was it?" she challenged yet again.

"Yes!"

"Why?!"

Now, he found himself echoing Lieutenant Groves' earlier sentiments, his jaw clenching and unclenching, staring off into the gardens so he could force himself to speak.

"I suspect you know why."

It was not an easy thing to say. But she had demanded frankness, and so she would have it.

"Captain, I have known you for some time. A long time. I do not believe you would be standing here in such distress if you had no feelings for Theo."

"In which case, that is misguided on my part."

"Why? Because she is Irish? Or because of her social standing?"

"Of course not!"

"Because you still insist she harbours sinister secrets, then? I will confide this in you, even if I know she would not wish me to do so."

"Then you should not-"

"I know everything she has not seen fit to tell others. All of it. There is nothing sinister there, and there is nothing that might impede you. Unless you truly do succeed in driving her away."

"What…?"

"I can say no more on the matter. Trust what I have said."

James stared at her, and she stared back – as though daring him to challenge her. How long had she known the answers he sought? What were those answers? If she said there was no impediment, that would mean…that there was no husband. But how did that explain all of the factors that led him to that suspicion? Elizabeth had hinted at cruelty, but…but one did not have to be married to a woman to be cruel to her. That much made sense. Perhaps…

Whatever theories began to arise, he put a forceful end to them. Those thoughts, at least, he could control. They mattered not, when weighed upon the conversation currently at hand. So he stopped his incredulous staring, cleared his throat, and schooled his expression.

"It makes no difference."

"Why, Captain? Why does it not?" she demanded.

"I have told you why, Elizabeth!" he all but snapped. "Because it is not…it is not…"

"What you had planned?" a strong sort of knowing seeped through her tone.

How was it that she managed to pin the thoughts he himself could not even begin to untangle with such expert precision?

At that question, her implorations turned from furious to soft, though no less firm despite that. The frown was smoothed from her brow, her eyes no longer blazed, but she did not shrink or falter. James suspected she was incapable of either, much like the woman she championed.

"Captain…James…" she sighed, wringing her hands and hanging her head for a moment before she looked at him once again, resolving herself to the rule of frankness that prevailed over this conversation. "Plans change. That is perfectly alright. It's good, so long as you don't cling to the old one for the sake of clinging to the old one, forsaking your own happiness and that of others for the sake of it. There are…there are times when doing the correct thing, in the eyes of others, can be the wrong thing, if done for the wrong reasons."

He hadn't the faintest idea of what to say to that – nor if he could speak if he even truly tried to do so. Happily, or unhappily, Elizabeth was not finished having her say.

"I am not inside your mind. I believe I am correct, but perhaps I am not. If so, leave Theodora be. I would not have you pursue her as a second best option – in fact, I should never forgive you if you do. But if I am correct, and you're denying both yourself and Theodora a chance at very real happiness because you're too stubborn to see what is directly before your eyes, I shall find that hard to forgive, too."

"However…hypothetically speaking…if the latter were the case," he said slowly, feeling quite numb. "It is far too late to change anything now. Is it not?"

"That, I cannot answer. But there is only one way to find out."

"Oh?"

"Try," she said.

They remained standing there for a few long moments, until Elizabeth finally sighed and clasped her hands before her.

"I would ask one thing of you," she said finally. "We will not discuss it, if you concede. This is for your sake."

"What is it?"

Considering how this conversation had transpired, he did not dare agree before he heard the request. Once, he might have – even if the request involved walking upon molten glass. But now, he could not.

"When you return to your home tonight, put whatever plans you may once have had from your mind," she said carefully. "Only for a moment. A minute, an hour, thirty seconds, whatever it takes. Picture two eventualities. One in which you do the expected thing. And one in which you follow what it is you truly wish to do, if I am in fact correct about what that is. Consider which one brings you more joy. Make that your compass. Not reason."

He did not agree, but he knew he would do so anyway, now that the idea was in his mind. He was a glutton for punishment, it seems. But she seemed not to expect a response, straightening and lifting her chin.

"My father tells me the formalities, in the way of paperwork, are all almost concluded to secure your promotion. You'll soon be Commodore Norrington, I hear. Congratulations – truly. You deserve it."

It was not news, not to him. Although until the ink was dry, he was content for it to be news that had not yet reached the ears of the rest of those gathered here. With a parting nod, Elizabeth swept soundlessly from the gardens, save only for the rustle of her skirts. James remained. Movement was even more impossible than speech was.

She had given him much to think about.

A/N: I really loved the idea of Elizabeth parroting the advice her father gives her in TCOTBP, even though he hasn't actually given her it yet in this timeline. I just think it shows the bond and the closeness between them, that they'd give similar advice under similar circumstances.

#catch the wind #ctw #james/theodora #fallen through time esta-elavaris #ftt #james norrington/oc #james norrington x oc #pirates of the caribbean fanfiction #pirates of the caribbean fanfic #potcfic #james norrington fanfiction #james norrington fanfic

[esta-elavaris]

Flufftober Day 30: Self-Worth/Self-Love ~ James Norrington/OC [1.973 words]

My Flufftober '23 masterpost can be found here, and my behemoth of a main fic about these two is here 💜✨

This is the final bit in the little mini storyline I had going on with these - it's first referenced in day 10, it builds a bit in day 21, and we dig into it properly here!

On their final night in London together, Theo had to concede that she hadn’t had half as bad a time as she’d expected. In fact, she hadn’t had a bad time at all. Sure, she spent the first couple of weeks waiting for all to suddenly turn bitchy towards her, using things she’d said when her guard was down to mock the begloved Irishwoman who may or may not have been a witch, but…it didn’t happen. And now their final social occasion, their farewell dinner, was drawing to a close, and she had to accept that it simply was not going to happen. Screw interdimensional time travel, this was the real miracle.

She’d even taken to dressing how she actually wanted to dress. Alright, leggings and band shirts were still out, but to her own tastes as far as fashions of the time went – rather than cosplaying as whatever she thought people would expect Mrs Norrington to appear. Which often meant dressing how Elizabeth would.

The last of their guests, Lord and Lady Montague, remained in the drawing room as the others left in order to finalise business, and everything was looking decidedly golden.

“I’ll confess, Admiral Norrington,” the older man insisted on continued use of James’ former title – a mark of respect, she thought, “I was prepared to come here, listen to some hare-brained scheme, before throwing what little gold and help I possibly could at it merely as a personal favour to Governor Swann.”

“Oh really, Henry,” his wife scolded, very half-heartedly, from where she sat beside Theo.

“I wouldn’t say it now if it had all proven true,” he pressed on. “I confessed myself impressed, by your plans, by your lovely wife, by you, by all of it. And very optimistic. You go forth with my full backing, and not just the sort that I offer out of obligation to save any awkwardness.”

Theo smiled, bowing her head as Lady Montague – or Alice, as she insisted she call her – squeezed her arm as if in agreement. Her experience with the upper crust of English society had begun with Beckett, and he was an act she had no wish to see repeated.

The Montagues stood, James and Theo following suit as Henry continued.

“I wish you luck, not that I think you’ll need it, going forth – and going forth with all the support you might need, from myself at least. And my contacts in the north. I’ve already written to them, I did so last night so I could reassure you of that fact before we saw you off.”

It was taking all Theo had not to start literally jumping for joy. As James expressed his thanks, Alice rounded on her and pulled her into a tight hug.

“Speaking of writing, you must promise to do so! You’ve been such a breath of fresh air, Theodora, I’m going to miss you sorely when you’re gone! You must come again. I insist, I really do.”

“I will,” Theo laughed. “I promise, I will.”

Her penmanship with a quill was improving, so with any luck James wouldn’t be obligated to scribe whatever letters she had to send.

The goodbyes were lengthy, but the moment they were out of the door and well out of earshot, Theo was hooting a laugh and throwing her arms about her husband in celebration – not content to let him downplay his success here. Only after that did the tiredness that had been culminating over the course of their time here really hit, and she returned to the sofa and sank down onto it with a sigh.

“You made an enthusiastic friend in Lady Montague. For life, I should think,” James said as he followed her in.

“Careful, James, you’re brushing against condescension – all that’s missing is a pat on the head and a good girl.”

Although that last part might be worth revisiting at a later date. He chuckled, walking to the bar cart and pouring them each a drink before he sat down on the couch beside her, handing her the crystal tumbler of whiskey.

“I know these things are tiring for you, but if it’s any consolation you handled it all marvellously.”

Theo made a humming sound, taking a sip and sighing. He was right – they were exhausting. Not even just because of the cultural differences, which one wouldn’t expect to exist between two such small neighbouring islands, but because of her origins, too.

“It wasn’t so bad as it was when I first arrived,” she admitted. “I…have more stable footing now, than I did back then. Don’t need to be paranoid that if I say my favourite colour is blue, it’ll be a secret code for I worship the devil every Tuesday night in these times.”

“No, that would be red,” he said drily.

“Duly noted.”

Back when she first arrived, it had been toughest. Having to constantly self-edit and really think over what she said before she said it, thinking of how she could skew an anecdote to fit the time – or if she could at all – by which point, the conversation had often moved on and she was left standing quietly like a lawn ornament to the side. With James, it had always been surprisingly easy. Even before he knew, when they were just talking, and he wasn’t trying to finagle details of her past out of her. And now she didn’t have to worry about it with him at all. A safe haven in human form.

It was Theo’s own humble opinion that she was at her best when she could speak her mind and crack her stupid jokes and, well, breathe. That hadn’t often been possible in Port Royal. Because they were of this time, and because they seldom shared her sense of humour – and going into this, she’d expected it to be more of the same. Amplified, perhaps, because this was London, where all of them had hailed from.

But either island life had made those there less friendly towards newcomers, or the old lot just really resented her for what she’d found with James. Then again, maybe arriving as a castaway, living in the jungle for a bit, and then running off with a pirate…multiple times…had something to do with it, too. Who knew?

In any case, she’d lucked out here – and she was relieved, but exhausted still. And more than a little sheepish.

“I’m sorry.”

“For worshipping the devil?”

He had not sensed her change in tone, thinking she was still joking. There was a precedent for that, wasn’t there? Theo was content to let it rest there, unsure if it was really a conversation she wanted to have anyway. But then he turned his head and regarded her fully, and the silence became a little less comfortable than it usually was between them.

“Sorry for what?” he asked, and then when she did not respond, asked again. “Theodora?”

“It…doesn’t come naturally to me. Not here.”

“What doesn’t?”

“The social side of it. Here.”

“She says as we sit here, drinking to her success.”

“We’re drinking to our success, don’t be daft.”

“I’m drinking to yours. Now tell me what you meant. Was someone unkind tonight?”

“Not at all. But…”

Well, they were having the conversation now. What good would it be to sit and make him pull teeth and figure out what was bothering her via a series of yes-or-no questions?

“…this is what wives are supposed to do, isn’t it? Here, I mean. Take joy in organising dinner parties and playing hostess and filling every spare hour of every day with luncheons and dinner parties and balls? Representing the team in the sophisticated social circles – the ones not inhabited by pirates and sex workers, anyway. It’s not exactly…”

A marriage to a fine woman. But she wouldn’t use those words – because they weren’t meant for her ears, because it would appear the matter of Elizabeth still weighed upon her (which it genuinely did not), and because it didn’t exactly convey how she felt. That made it sound like she doubted his feelings for her, or like she had no self-worth…which had never been one of her problems. God bless her dad and how he’d raised her.

“I don’t fulfil the traditional job requirements,” she finished lamely.

Then, though, she saw how he looked almost outraged by her words and winced.

“I’m not saying I don’t think you’re happy. Only that it would be understandable if you were…oh, I don’t know. Frustrated, now and then, at having a wife who you always need to explain to people.”

In all of their time together, they hadn’t ever really had a chance at living in a normal manner up until now. There’d always been some sort of grander game at play – some new adventure-slash-mortal peril tugging at their tailcoats. The bits in-between that kinda sorta resembled normality had been breathers. Blips between storms – between maelstroms.

James smiled a little as he bowed his head, and Theo wasn’t sure how to even begin taking the gesture. Had she really sounded that ridiculous? God, she shouldn’t have opened her mouth at all. But when he raised his head again and looked to her, the smile slipped away, and she knew her worry had shown on her face.

Sighing, he bent forward to set his glass down on the floor, and then took her free hand in both of his.

"Do you think I have none of the same fears? Three centuries of progress lies between here and where you hailed from. Between myself and then. And you have given up much for me…have sacrificed much for me..." as he spoke, he ran his thumb over the knuckles of her gloved hand. “I believe that you are happy just as you know that I am. But, sometimes, I do fear that one day you may grow to question whether it was all worth it. For you have sacrificed plenty, and I have gained much. I have gained everything.”

“Everything you’ve gained, I have too,” she insisted. “I never regret the choice I’ve made. Not even in passing.”

“And nor do I. I do not wish for a wife, Theodora. I want you. As you are. However you are. However you will be. And as for needing to explain you to people – if they do not possess good taste, that is their own affair. I enjoy being among the lucky collective who do.”

Theo felt herself flush, but he was not finished. He slipped one hand away from hers and brought it instead to cup the side of her face, thumb running across her cheek just as it had with her knuckles, urging her towards him so that he could kiss her – a kiss that was so slow and filled with such adoration that she was sure she wouldn’t be able to string another sentence together for at least an hour.

He pulled back, but kept her close, pressing his brow against hers.

“And I confess, if you suffered a head injury and began to take joy in little other than place settings and the town gossip, I should still love you but I would mourn it,” he teased. “You take little joy in these sorts of gatherings? Good. Nor do I. So I know I will never need to suffer through them unless entirely necessary – and when those times do come, I’m afforded the opportunity to witness you, to use your own wording, charm the pants off of those necessary. Now tell me, what facet of any of this is supposed to disappoint me?”

“What if I tell you I really am a witch?” she teased, pressing another kiss to his lips as if to prove her mood had lightened.

“I shall carry your broomstick for you with great pride,” he promised.

Links: AO3 -- FF.net -- flufftober masterpost -- dividers by cafekitsune

#esta's flufftober '23 fills #flufftober2023 #flufftober 2023 #flufftober #james norrington x oc #james norrington/oc #potcfic #pirates of the caribbean fanfic #pirates of the caribbean fanfiction #pirates of the caribbean fic #james norrington fanfic #james norrington fanfiction

[esta-elavaris]

Part Eighteen [4,250 words] ~ James Norrington/OC

An AU of my completed, 400k+ word fanfic Catch the Wind [AO3], in which Elizabeth, not James, is the one to discover Theodora Byrne after she crash-lands into the world of Pirates of the Caribbean.

Page breaks by cafekitsune.

Also now on AO3 and FF.net.

Masterpost - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Ten - Part Eleven - Part Twelve - Part Thirteen - Part Fourteen - Part Fifteen - Part Sixteen - Part Seventeen - *Part Eighteen*

Tag list [let me know if you want to be added!]: @teawithshakespeare @missfronkensteen @dancerinthestorm

When morning came near, Hattie - who’d greeted her with wide, disbelieving eyes upon finding her, dishevelled and barely dressed, on James’ sofa - was sent up to the mansion to inform the staff of what had happened, and have a carriage sent down to pick her up. Any insistence that she could walk had been flat-out ignored by the maid and the good captain both…and her legs did greet her with a distinct sort of shakiness when it came time to walk to the carriage.

Anyway, hoping for secrecy was daft.

While she would’ve been happy to never again discuss what had taken place that night – at least as far as the part that happened in the water was concerned – she’d been forced to concede James’ point when he deemed it a necessity. If any had spotted them on that cliff, or her slipping into his house barely-dressed and unchaperoned afterwards, it would be a reputation ruiner for everybody involved. Theo didn’t care about that, not as far as she herself was concerned, but she did know it would reflect badly on Elizabeth, Governor Swann, and James. Because that was what he’d asked her to call him now. James. It would take a bit of getting used to.

As dawn crept in, greeting them as they slipped into the carriage, Theo couldn’t help but wonder if a change of heart wouldn’t come with it. Decisions made, and confessions offered, in the dead of night after a life-or-death experience were bound to look different when cast in daylight. So, aided by her increasing numbness and exhaustion, she remained quiet throughout the journey – like one wrong word could have him awkwardly clearing his throat and finally requesting that she disregard anything he said in the heat of the moment, mere hours earlier.

It was irrational, sure, and it was probably even unfair. Norrington was careful, and did little without considering it first. He was far from the sort to kiss her and take it lightly. But was it any wonder that she was tired, confused, and doubtful after the run they’d had so far? Knowing that, in the movies at least, a good portion of his character revolved around a deep, meaningful love for one of her very close friends? A deficit of self-esteem was never a problem she’d really had, but it seemed…unreal that she could prompt such a change.

Even discarding what she’d seen of that fictional version of events, they had made a pretty big habit of taking one step forward followed by ten backwards, had they not? She’d never forgive herself if this was more of the same, and she failed to see it coming.

But he didn’t retract anything. In fact, whenever she snuck a look at him, she found him always watching her in return, making far less of an effort than she did to do so covertly, and…was that worry on his face? Rather than fidget, or avoid looking at her, or appear as though he was doing his best to work up to a very awkward admission, he simply watched her, his brow furrowed in concern. That same concern shone through to his eyes, too, and she wondered if he’d caught wind of her thoughts…or if he thought she harboured regrets.

“Do you-”

“I-” she began at the same time.

It was a relief that he’d intended to speak too, though, because she had begun her sentence with no idea of how it was actually going to proceed. He’d saved her from a whole lot of awkward mumbling.

“Go on,” she waved when he fell silent.

“I only meant to say that I should like to call on you today,” he said, “after you’ve had time to rest, of course. That is…if you are amenable?”

The blush that rose to her face must’ve been blatantly obvious, even in the dim pale light of dawn, thanks to how pale her features still were. And she knew he caught it, the bastard, because of how he stifled a smile.

“I’d like that,” she cleared her throat. “But you need to promise me you’ll rest, too.”

“You have my word,” he said with a solemness that was broken only by that very dangerous fondness in his eyes.

The Governor and Elizabeth were both on the front grounds of the mansion, both dishevelled, the Governor’s clothing askew as though he dressed in a hurry, and Elizabeth in a thick dressing gown to cover her nightdress – apparently having decided it would take far too long to dress properly so that she could greet them.

James disembarked the carriage first in order to gently help her out, a misshapen bundle of blankets and Doc Martens, toting a cloth sack that contained her still-wet clothing. The Governor looked carefully away, probably thanks to propriety, but it didn’t matter much because Elizabeth was upon her in an instant, pulling her towards the mansion as James stepped aside to speak to her father. Theo allowed her to do so with little more than a murmur.

Elizabeth’s horror, upon learning of the events that took place the previous night, lasted only as long as it took Theo to fill her in on what came afterwards. By which point she seemed pretty tempted to prematurely pioneer history’s first shark-empowering activism group. Theo tried not to take it personally.

“I knew it!” Elizabeth declared as Theo ducked behind a screen in the corner to change into proper nightwear.

“You knew I’d almost been eaten by a shark and that he saved my life just in time to confess that he thinks I’m not actually terrible?”

“No, of course not,” she scoffed in return. “But I knew something had happened. Oh Theo, the care with which he helped you out of that carriage. I’m surprised he didn’t sweep you off your feet and carry you to bed himself.”

“That’d be jumping the gun a bit.”

“Joke all you like, that may not be too far off. He clearly means to court you! He can’t even wait a full day to begin nudging the matter forward. Oh, I could kiss that shark, I really could.”

When she emerged from behind the screen – mostly hoping Elizabeth wouldn’t take note of the men’s nightshirt now draped over the top of it – the damn tremor was back in her limbs. And while she didn’t notice the discarded clothing, she did notice that. Immediately she frowned, dark eyes serious rather than gleeful.

“I didn’t mean to make light of it,” she said, an apology in her voice. “Are you-”

“I’m fine,” Theo replied quickly. “Just…a long night. A complicated one.”

One that left her with many dilemmas.

A few hours of sleep was followed by a visit from the local doctor – for the sake of her nerves rather than her physical wellbeing – and by midday, Theo was fully dressed and in the drawing room, albeit with her feet propped up on a footstool, and a blanket draped across her. As if they weren’t in the Caribbean. She might’ve been more of a smartarse about it if her hands and feet hadn’t still been absolutely freezing, a sign that her body was still in high-alert mode, even if the doctor had plied her with some concoction that eased her mind up a little.

Were it not for James’ promised visit, she suspected she’d have been banned from rising and dressing at all. But since he had promised to visit, and Elizabeth’s priorities were impossible to reshuffle, she found herself laced into a gown of cool blue, her hair in a low, curling bun at the nape of her neck so as not to tempt the headache that kept trying to break through ever since she’d awoken.

It appeared that, even during the few hours she slept, word had spread through the town regarding her ordeal, for the sitting room was utterly jam-packed with flowers. Most of them came with cards insisting that she should let the senders know the moment she was up to receiving visitors, so that they could check in on her in person. A thinly veiled request to hear the full story directly from her, really, but she did hope her ordeal might buy her five minutes of rest from the machinations of Amelia Simmonds and her gang of idiots…right up until they found out about the thawing between she and Port Royal’s most eligible bachelor. Then they’d despise her more than ever.

When James did turn up, though, once again properly dressed with his wig and hat atop his head, Theo thought that the hatred would well be worth it. Especially considering that now, rather than watching her with distrust as he had in the beginning, or even just guardedness as he had thereafter, there was instead that heart-rendingly soft expression that would seem utterly impossible according to those who’d only seen him in his professional mode.

“I am going to check up on our tea and luncheon,” Elizabeth announced before they’d even had a chance to take a breath after greetings were offered.

It wasn’t improper – not in a house with this many servants. A footman still lingered in the corner of the very room, waiting to fulfil any request they might have. Of course, he could have very easily been sent to check up on how their tea and sandwiches were coming along, but that wouldn’t achieve Elizabeth’s ends, so Theo kept quiet on it. Mostly because she felt mortifyingly shy enough as it was, and while she could take a joke as well as the next person, she didn’t want to sit through an hour of Elizabeth’s help where this was concerned.

“How are you feeling?” he came to perch on the sofa beside her, leaving one cushion’s worth of space between them.

“Restless,” she admitted. “How are you?”

“I’ve faced worse,” he said, with a sort of mild boastfulness that had her smiling.

“Just any other night for you then, was it?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” that softness was back again, his eyes flickering briefly towards her lips, and Theo blushed.

 “The, er, prescribed method of recovery around here isn’t my usual go-to,” she explained.

“What is your preferred method?”

“Swimming,” she had to stop and laugh at the look he gave her when she said that. “Don’t worry, I’m not about to go bolting down to the beach when nobody’s looking. It’ll be a while before I get back in the water.”

“What happened was a stroke of incredibly bad luck,” he said, after thinking for a moment. “You should not allow it to keep you from what you enjoy.”

Theo smiled, unable to help it, because that was…that was sweet, actually. Not just the sentiment, but the fact that he was making the effort to offer that reassurance – because it was clear that doing so was not yet entirely within the realms of his comfort zone. But they did need to get used to this…this new dynamic between them. It followed so quickly on from a bad argument, and forgiveness and trust that still felt fragile on both sides. She didn’t think it was entirely unreasonable to worry that one wrong joke, one spell of teasing that went too far, would shatter it all.

Getting on well for a longer span of time wasn’t something they’d yet mastered, was it? And there was more worry still on her side – because she wasn’t stupid enough to think he’d forgotten that there were explanations as to her past that she had not yet offered. And now he knew that Elizabeth knew. While that could help, while it would hopefully reassure him that it was nothing too sinister – for she hadn’t been turned out of the mansion – she also suspected it would only deepen his curiosity further.

And, if they really did manage to make it a week or two without arguing again, curiosity could swiftly turn to hurt that she would tell Elizabeth, but not him. All right, she hadn’t told Elizabeth of her own volition, but he didn’t know that.

“Hiking was always another go-to,” she sighed. “’Til my legs felt fit to drop off. Again, though, I don’t think that’s very feasible here. Not today, at least.”

“Would a turn about the gardens do as a substitute?”

“God, yes.”

If she had to stay cooped up indoors all day, she’d go mad.

The day outside was gloriously sunny, but with a cool and soothing breeze that broke up the stifling heat and allowed her to really enjoy the brilliant blue cloudless sky, rather than wilting under the heat.

“Sorry, I’m a bit fuzzy,” she wrinkled her nose as they walked. “The doctor insisted on giving me something for my nerves, and in hindsight I’m pretty sure it was an opiate.”

Opioid use was one particular ride she thought to save for later in life, when things got really stale, but it had been foisted on her in her twenties, and she just felt a bit floaty and nauseous for her troubles.

“Did it work?”

“A little bit. But it’s not the sort of thing I want to rely on. It’s not like it won’t all still be waiting for me when this stuff wears off – so it needs to be tackled head-on, instead. For efficiency’s sake, if nothing else.”

The smile he gave at that was strangely approving. She’d have to get used to his approval, then.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“I…look, I don’t know how this courting thing works.”

She didn’t even know if it was some sort of glaring taboo to address it so directly here and now, but she hoped he’d at least appreciate her frankness. And, thank god, he didn’t suddenly go pale or seem all that horrified at all. Mostly just surprised.

“You don’t?” his eyebrows raised a little.

“Why the shock? Did you have me pegged as someone with a string of suitors littering the ground behind her?”

“Boasting all manner of mortal wounds, at that,” he replied drily.

Theo grinned, and then she laughed, but she knew he was waiting for some sort of elaboration.

“Back home is…it’s a different world. And that’s an understatement. Nothing works the same way here as it does there. And even if it did, this sort of thing just…wasn’t a priority. I never paid it much mind.”

“So you’ve never been courted? None have made…overtures?”

“Not by English standards. Oh, don’t look so shocked.”

It wasn’t even much of a lie. In the sense that he knew the word, she hadn’t been. Nobody around here was inviting anybody for a McDonald’s and a cheeky kiss at three in the morning after a night out. Unless that was the next step here, she really was ignorant as all hell as to how things would proceed.

“Of course I’m shocked,” he huffed a laugh – but not a mean-spirited one. “You are…you are beautiful. And intelligent. Witty, too.”

The compliments were delivered after a brief moment of awkward hesitation, but once he began he seemed to find it easier – which was exactly when Theo started finding it difficult, blushing and looking away. He wasn’t happy to let that go uncommented on, either.

“…Even if you’ve a strange way of finding it easier to accept jokes about a hypothetical murderous past than compliments on your countenance.”

Now she did look at him, arching an eyebrow and fighting a smile.

“Don’t get too cocky. You’re criminally handsome, your voice is unreal, and – stop me if this is going too far – you’re an excellent swimmer in the face of shark infested waters.”

When she’d made the joke warning him to stop her, a brief glimmer of alarm had played across his face, like he was expecting her to say something really out of pocket. So, instead, when she ended how she did, he rolled his eyes – fondly, though – before her earlier compliments seemed to register and he flushed just as she had.

“See? Now we’re both blushing,” she pointed out smugly.

He cleared his throat, but appeared content to let the matter lie there. Theo resisted the urge to draw up a scoreboard.

“You said not by English standards. Are Irish standards so different?” he asked.

“That difference can’t be overstated,” she muttered. “I’m just wondering…you’re…I mean, the expectation isn’t that…”

“Please, speak freely,” he reassured – despite his own, very visible, discomfort.

“This isn’t the sort of thing where there’s a wedding planned for two weeks from now, is it?”

Things were different in this time. Back home, even acknowledging, factually speaking, that marriage was a thing that existed this early on would be a bad idea. But here, marriage, more often than not, was a business arrangement rather than a relationship in the sense of the word that she was familiar with. A few weeks to come to the conclusion that they could, in fact, spend more than an hour together without wanting to commit murder, and then it was off to popping out babies.

“I’ve no intention of rushing you,” he answered, clearing his throat and suddenly finding his shoes very interesting. “Nor…nor this. The last few weeks have been regrettable. I think we both need time in which to find our footing before we worry about blazing ahead.”

Theo nodded, relieved.

“And…” he paused, then pushed through his hesitation. “I did rather doubt that you’d wish to be married without your father present to witness it, or offer his permission. Given what I have heard of the bond you share with him. I expect he should need to be located first. And I assure you, if he does not surface in due course, I shall be happy to use whatever resources are at my disposal to seek him out-”

Maybe it was the medicine – and if it wasn’t, she was still going to blame it anyway – but Theo found her vision very quickly blurring with tears, and his eye was far too keen to miss it.

“Making you weep was the very last thing I desired to do,” he sighed softly.

“No, it’s…” she paused, sniffed, and then shook her head as she wrapped her arms around herself. “They’re not the worst kind of tears. It’s just…that was sweet. Of you to say. Of you to think of.”

“I cannot be the first to have done so, surely?”

“Elizabeth understands. How couldn’t she? She and her father…”

“The ever-present aide-memoire must be challenging,” he allowed.

“Sometimes. It’s nice that she understands, though. I had friends back home who hated their parents. Never understood that me n’ my dad were…well, we were friends.”

“I see no reason for you to speak of such matters in the past tense,” he said gently.

Didn’t he? That was the problem, wasn’t it. If anything, it was almost easier when she thought he hated her – or at least that he didn’t return her feelings. This whole situation was a glaring example of how folk should be careful what they wished for, because she’d damn well gotten it and now she was left with a dilemma that was far more tricky than heartache.

Or maybe she could just think that because she no longer had to deal with that heartache. Not in the same way, at least.

Because what did this all mean? As far as returning home went? Whether he knew it or not, even by just walking with her about these gardens, James had changed the course of his life significantly. The one it was meant to take. Even if that course led somewhere that she now knew damn well she could never allow. Had she been able to take feelings out of the matter and look at the bare facts, it wouldn’t be right to see him take such a leap of faith and then still plot to leave – then, adding feelings into the mix, it only made her more inclined to stay.

But staying meant…well, not going back. And that thought was a lot to contend with in general, never mind after the night she’d just had.

“To properly answer your question, courting is typically a matter of earning the approval of the family of the lady in question, as well as that of the lady herself. Which…makes our set of circumstances unique. For the time being. Although I cannot pretend that I’m not relieved that I have time to win back your regard before I have to do so with your father. I suspect the former would strongly impact the latter.”

“You talk like you haven’t already managed it.”

In response to that, he watched her carefully.

“One good deed cannot undo all of the ill I have wrought thus far,” he pointed out.

Theo pushed down her discomfort at how close those words came to the ones he was destined to say to Elizabeth on the Dutchman, shortly before his demise.

“You fumbled the ball a bit,” she said. “You didn’t try to murder me. I’m not going to exact a pound of flesh.”

Although it was far easier to be all magnanimous about it now that they were through it. Judging by the rueful look he fixed her with, he was very aware of that.

“My dad’s always been the sort where as long as I’m happy, he’s happy, so you…you shouldn’t worry. About that. I do hope, though, that all of this doesn’t make life awkward for you.”

“If you’re referring to the opinions of Miss Simmonds and her pack of wolves, I care little for what they have to say on this matter – nor on any other, for that matter.”

“Oh, not them. Sod them,” she snorted. “But…the Swanns…Governor Swann, I mean – Elizabeth’s practically been doing cartwheels all morning, but her father…I know how well the two of you get on. This won’t make things awkward, will it? He wanted you and Elizabeth to- well, I don’t want to be the evil lodger who came in and spoiled it all.”

“I imagine he’d be more upset were Miss Swann at all upset by what has come to pass. And while I respect her greatly still, even the mightiest saint would not nudge one they hoped to marry towards another. Had she been devastated by these recent changes, the Governor would take a less favourable view on it, but given that it makes her just as happy as we now are, all will be well.”

She didn’t quite manage to keep the surprise from her face, and he caught it – offering a small, amused smile in turn.

“It’s remarkable,” he commented softly, “what one can see upon no longer hoping to see something different.”

“And what are you hoping to see now, then?” she asked.

“More of you,” he answered – apparently without thinking, for then he realised how it sounded and balked, a flush immediately rising to his face. “That is, er, I wish to visit with you more frequently, and see if…er…well- I mean, of course, I did not mean that-”

“You’ll have to ask very, very nicely,” she interrupted.

The joke was a gamble; not only because of the time period, but because of how tentative everything was between them. Usually Theo was all for gambles just like that, but in this instance she found herself watching his expression nervously…and breathing a heavy sigh of relief when, upon registering them properly, he faltered, and then he laughed. All right, it wasn’t a stomach-grabbing, doubled over with tears in the eyes sort of laugh, but it broke the tension.

“We’ll…get better at this,” he said finally, shaking his head. “We’ll find our footing, as we proceed. If, indeed, you wish to proceed. I’ve no wish to hold you to anything to said…or did…last night, in your shaken state.”

His determination to make sure only to secure her agreement to this under the best circumstances possible only made her feel all the more guilty for all she kept from him. With images of home whirling throughout her mind, and visions of his opinion of her once again doing a complete u-turn if he knew where home really was for her, the most answer she could offer was a nod, and that nod was enough to have him smiling.

“I don’t think we’re doing too badly,” she pointed out quietly.

“I suppose not, if we count today as a clean slate.”

“Last night had its moments.”

This time he didn’t blush or fluster, only smiled a little as he bowed his head. “It did.”

For a while, they were content to walk quietly, stealing glances here and there and then blushing when they caught the other doing the same thing. It was so disgustingly cute that Theo was tempted to hate herself for it.

#ctw #catch the wind #ftt #fallen through time esta-elavaris #james/theodora #james x theodora #pirates of the caribbean fanfiction #pirates of the caribbean fanfic #potcfic #james norrington fanfiction #james norrington fanfic #james norrington x oc #james norrington/oc

[esta-elavaris]

Part Seventeen [3,977 words] ~ James Norrington/OC

An AU of my completed, 400k+ word fanfic Catch the Wind [AO3], in which Elizabeth, not James, is the one to discover Theodora Byrne after she crash-lands into the world of Pirates of the Caribbean.

Page breaks by cafekitsune.

Also now on AO3 and FF.net.

Masterpost - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Ten - Part Eleven - Part Twelve - Part Thirteen - Part Fourteen - Part Fifteen - Part Sixteen - *Part Seventeen*

Tag list [let me know if you want to be added!]: @teawithshakespeare @missfronkensteen @dancerinthestorm

!! Not a new chapter -- I'm just stupidly late in posting this one here.

With the adrenaline and the shock coursing through her, it was impossible to feel the impact of James landing atop her. Yes, she was aware of the shoulder that drove into her chest, and the elbow that dug into her ribs, but there was no pain. Only impact, and breathlessness.

He recovered quickly, rolling off of her to the left, but then he lay as she did, flat on the ground, face tilted up to the heavens, breathing heavily.

Reality came back in gradually, but not yet fully – dripping in with small details, here and there. The stone beneath her, digging into her back and her tailbone. A slow, persistent throbbing sinking into her ribs where his elbow had landed, thrumming in time with her racing heartbeat. And the cold. It was so, so cold. She hadn't been this cold since she was last at home.

Sitting up was a challenge in itself. Her limbs impossible to feel and refusing to comply. The last time Theo lacked control over her body to this extent, Elizabeth found her washed up and fried to a crisp on the beach. Arms trembled and vibrated as she pushed herself up to sit, her lungs worked overtime regardless of the fact that it felt like she wasn't actually getting any of that air at all, and speaking was up there with flying in terms of feasibility. Even her legs, splayed before her, trembled and twitched like she'd just ran a marathon.

One of James' hands clasped hers – gently at first, and then when he seemed happy enough that the tremors were just that, and not an attempt to shake him off, his hold became firmer. She hadn't even noticed he'd sat up, too, until then. His hair fell about his face in dark wet curtains that he watched her intently through, bringing her palm to the sodden chest of his shirt.

"Breathe with me," he instructed.

She would. She'd have to, if she didn't want to pass out. But there was something more pressing first.

"Y-y-y-you…" she had to pause then, gasping for breath and stealing herself to force out the other two words. "…ju…you j-j-jumped…in."

At that, his expression changed – more unguarded than she'd ever seen it, his eyes painfully vulnerable as he sucked in a breath of his own, one that she felt stutter beneath her hand, before he finally responded.

"Of course I did."

Even if she'd been capable of speaking properly, she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to find the words to respond to that. The fact that she trembled hard enough to trigger earthquakes saved her from having to try.

When he began to move, it took all of her willpower to stop herself from clinging to him, not yet wanting to be alone for even a single fleeting second. Instead, though, she forcibly loosened her numb hands, and let him draw back, fixing her gaze upon her knees. The water had rendered her nightgown transparent, she realised, and were it not for her modern clothing beneath, she'd be entirely on display now.

Rather than standing up, as she'd expected, or leaving, as she'd feared, James pulled away just enough to reach for the coat he'd discarded before diving in. Dragging it towards them, he pulled it about her shoulders, eyes fixed firmly on the ground behind her while he did so, until she was covered. Despite that, though, she detected no trace of embarrassment on his face. His refusal to look at her was out of respect, rather than his own discomfort.

Once it was about her shoulders, he dipped his fingers beneath the collar, under her hair, and dragged it out from beneath the coat so that it wouldn't remain dripping down her back. As he did so, his own hands twitched against the back of her neck, proving he wasn't so calm as he might appear.

"Y-you should…it's your c-c-coat-"

One firm look silenced her suggestion. Then, however, his features softened, and he took one of her hands in his once more. When it trembled in his grasp, but she didn't pull away, he paused. She expected him to return to their little guided breathing exercise, but instead he lingered a moment, smoothing his thumb across her knuckles. Then, before she could react, he brought it back to his chest, and they breathed.

They stayed out there on their cliff for what felt like mere minutes, as well as an eternity. But soon, as their ability to piece thoughts together in a coherent manner, it became obvious that they had to move if they didn't want to be seen – because being seen would lead to having to answer questions. Theo got the sense that he was in as much of a mood as she was for an interrogation.

As he retrieved her Docs from the beach, she slowly and shakily rose to her feet, pulling the coat tightly around herself and trying to stop her teeth from chattering. When he returned, they walked in a silence that was more dazed than uncomfortable, although he did frequently turn his head to take stock of her, visibly fighting back any offers he might've been tempted to make that would see him carrying her back to Elizabeth's home.

Only when they reached a garden path that was very much not the gates to the Swanns' mansion did she pause, no longer mindlessly following him.

"Your house," she said, her throat dry and words raspy.

"I cannot send you back to sit, alone, in the Governor's mansion after this."

The fact that he knew her well enough to know she'd return and do just that – sit alone, refusing to wake anybody or discuss what had happened – sent a pang through her. Although a pang of what, she couldn't quite place. So she nodded silently, and followed him into his house.

Something about stepping into a house, any house, made everything real. Or, at least, it brought reality back, making all that had occurred that night feel like a strange nightmare that she was now in the process of waking up from.

And that made way for something she didn't expect. Awkwardness.

Evidently, she wasn't the only one feeling it, either. Beside her, James scraped his still-wet hair back from his face, appearing to find the first few steps of the staircase fascinating for a few moments, before he cleared his throat.

"Clothes."

"What?"

"Clothes. Dry ones. I shall…I shall find something for you to change into. If you would wait in the sitting room, the fire should not have died out – in fact…"

Had she not been warring with approximately five-hundred-and-seventy-four of her own emotions, she might've found it funny. How endearingly awkward he suddenly found himself being. Instead, she was just left finding it, well, endearing. She followed him into the sitting room, her boots dangling from one hand and his coat still hanging about her shoulders, and watched as he quickly and efficiently built the fire up enough to last them through to the year of her actual birth.

Then he left the room with all of the speed of someone being hunted for sport. Looking about her, she decided not to risk spoiling his furniture and huddled on the floor by the hearth instead, after depositing her boots in the corner.

Her brain still rebelled against most coherent thought, exhausted by what had happened while still feeling painfully on edge. As she sat, she brought her knees beneath her chin and curled her arms around her legs, almost as if she feared that the shark had decided to follow them onto dry land, and her limbs were still at risk.

When he returned, it was with a white bundle and a blanket, and he blinked when he found her on the floor.

"I didn't want to spoil the furniture," she said quietly.

Whether it was the responding look on his face that had her realising how ridiculous it sounded, or just hearing it out loud, she flushed and looked away.

"Hattie is abed, so I could not ask if she would lend you some of her clothing…"

She was relieved at that. He was doing a good job at pretending what had just happened wasn't as horrifying as it truly was, but she suspected his maid – or anybody else for that matter – would not achieve that feat so easily. If she had to speak to someone who appeared shocked or appalled by the whole thing just now, she'd risk losing her own composure.

"…so I had to select some of my own clothing. It's hardly ideal, but you should at least be warm and, er, decent…"

Theo nodded slowly, wishing she had any idea what to say. Even Miss Manners herself would've been hard-pressed to write down what the exact etiquette for circumstances like these were.

"Thank you," she said – and that would have to do.

"It's no matter. I can…I can fetch us tea. While you change. After I've done so myself."

"I'm all right, thanks."

It appeared the offer was as much to give himself something to do as anything else, seeing as he winced and then replied.

"Whisky?"

"God, yes. Please."

That did a little to break the ice. He smiled tiredly, nodded, and took his leave. Theo rose shakily to her feet, and then paused for a few seconds – mostly to make sure she'd be able to remain standing. She felt a little lightheaded, but her knees held up. And she could at least be grateful that she was too shaken to feel the full brunt of the awkwardness just yet.

After closing the curtains – because the last thing either of them needed were rumours of her kicking about his sitting room in nothing but wide doe-eyes – she turned to what he'd brought. A nightshirt, and a thick blanket. The latter to offer her something resembling modesty rather than warmth, she suspected.

She peeled off the nightgown, and then her sports bra and denim shorts, breathing a sigh at the latter, because denim soaked in seawater was incredibly unforgiving. Parts of her thighs were already rubbed red raw and angry, but given the injuries she'd escaped on this night, she didn't really have it in her to sit and cry over something as minor as that.

Her saviour's height was a double-edged sword as far as the nightshirt was concerned – for while it fell well down to her shins, but this only meant that the chest fell scandalously low, having her looking like something out of a tediously racy period drama before she tightened up and tied the drawstrings there as much as possible. That took her a minute, too, her fingers clumsy and uncooperative.

By the time James returned, she was back on the floor, her clothing folded and set aside. He regarded the bundle with a flush; if she'd had her wits about her, she'd have hidden the shorts and bra underneath the nightgown. Still, the blanket was big enough for only her head and her hands to be visible, as well as her hair, which tumbled in damp waves down her back. Back home, this was the sort of look she'd go for if she was ready for a Netflix binge. But there was a strange sort of comfort to being in this state now. There were few comforts from home she had access to now, and while she doubted he was about to whip out a laptop and ask if she'd prefer Gilmore girls or Downton Abbey, it was something.

Then he presented the bottle of whisky, along with two glasses, and she decided she liked that far better than Netflix anyway.

He'd changed into a dry shirt and breeches, but his hair was still down, combed back from his face in a rather marvellous homage to the wet look. The whisky bottle and the glasses sat atop a tray, which also boasted a roll of bread with a thick golden crust, and a jar of what looked like jam.

At her confused blink, he explained.

"The sugar in the tea would have helped. This is…improvisation."

"You don't have to do this, you know."

"I want to do this," he said firmly.

"…Thank you."

"Please stop thanking me."

The weight of the request was lessened in how he kept up a swift pace of activity as he gave it. Carefully lowering himself to the patch on the floor opposite her, he set the tray between them, then opened the jar of jam, before turning his attention to the bottle.

He poured her glass first, and then one for himself. Theo downed hers in one, only realising he was doing the same when she set her empty one down again. He caught her eye, coming to the same realisation, and there was a moment where – god help them – they snickered. He didn't even lock up afterwards, as she'd expected. Instead, he poured them another helping each.

This time, she made no move to take up the glass again. The only way this night could get more mortifying would be if he had to carry her back to the Swann's mansion because she got too pissed to walk. Instead, she cleared her throat, lowering her gaze.

"I thought they only hunted at dusk and dawn," she explained weakly.

"I believe your knowledge refers primarily to great whites. The one we encountered tonight looked to be a tiger shark. They swim inland at night, in order to hunt."

There was no reproach in his voice. Merely factual observation.

"…Oh."

The one we encountered. At this point, she was fairly certain she'd feel less shit about the whole situation if he'd stood on the shore and shouted encouragement at the shark. The only thing she knew about tiger sharks was that they were one of the most deadly, too. Her face paled further – her nose going numb for how quickly she could feel the blood rushing from her features.

"I'm…" she had to stop and clear her throat. "Captain Norrington, I'm so sorry."

"You're sorry?"

"My stupidity had you jumping between me and a tiger shark on the hunt tonight, obviously I'm sorry!"

"You did not ask me to jump into the water."

"I know-"

"In fact, I recall you rather vehemently insisting that I should not."

"But it didn't stop you!"

"Nothing could have stopped me, Theodora."

For a few seconds, Theo did nothing but stare at him. And he did nothing but stare back. Then, finally, she spoke.

"Of course you did."

Judging by his expression, there was no need for her to clarify that she was echoing his earlier words. Instead, he watched her. Intently.

"Of course you did," she repeated again, "because…because I live here, and you would do the same for any resident of Port Royal? As…as a duty…sort of…thing?"

Nobody could ever accuse her of being eloquent. As she spoke, James lowered his gaze to his lap, fiddling with the blanket he'd brought. Had she ever seen him fiddle before? Silence hung between them, and even though he wasn't looking at her, she could see the response formulating in his face. But then he did look at her, and it all fell away, leaving just one word.

"No."

Part of her – the part that didn't dare trust what was directly in front of her…along with the part that insisted this, every single bit of it, was a terrible idea – was tempted to start searching for more reasons why he might've done what he did. That he was a fan of grand gestures when it came to winning over the pals of the woman he actually was into. That he was practising for his Jackass audition a few centuries early. That he had a fetish for tiger sharks that hadn't made the final cut of any of the movies…although it would've made his stint on the Dutchman a more exciting time for him, if true.

All of those theories died when she saw, when she really saw, how he was looking at her. That was explanation enough.

"That you should sit here thinking it is you that owes me an apology…" he breathed a tired, humourless laugh, shaking his head.

"You saved my life tonight. I'm not exactly in a position to give you the cold shoulder."

"I don't wish for your forgiveness."

"…Oh."

God, but he was the most confusing bastard in this hemisphere and century both-

"No," he rushed to clarify. "I mean, I do wish for your forgiveness. I…I wish for it very much. But not on those terms. Not if it might only be bestowed because you think my actions tonight mean that I am owed it."

"Don't they?"

"They do not. The only reward I sought for what I did was your wellbeing. Your life. Had I been able to sleep tonight…had I not chosen to go walking…" he shook his head as if he hoped that doing so would shake him free of all of those perilous what ifs, "…I will not sit here and offer excuses and justifications for my behaviour that night, not least because you're hardly in much of a state to listen to them, but you must know that my intention was never to embarrass you."

It took Theo less time than he'd probably expected to accept that much from him.

"All right."

"All right?" he echoed disbelievingly.

"Petty crap like that never seemed like your kind of thing."

Which was partly why the move had sent her reeling to begin with. Too bone-tired to dress up her words in eighteenth century speak, she expected them to draw in at least an eyebrow raise, uncouth as her phrasing had been. Instead he huffed a laugh, smoothing a hand tiredly over his face.

"I'm not sure I deserve even that shred of good faith."

Feeling charitable – and mostly not having any heart for an argument – she stayed silent. He took that silence as an opportunity.

"Conversations such as this are hardly within my realm of comfort…" he admitted slowly.

"Crack a joke and avoid the situation, it works glowingly for me," she mumbled, taking a sip of her drink.

Apparently he wasn't content to give that a whirl.

"I am sorry, Theodora. Truly. For the pain and embarrassment that I caused you that night, and…"

He faltered then, pausing to clear his throat, the glow of the fire making it difficult to tell whether he was flushing or if it was just a trick of the light. Theo set her glass down on the tray between them – which he then slid aside, finally meeting her eye again.

"…and for giving you the impression that I do not enjoy your company. Greatly," as he spoke, she knew she already looked like she was doing her best owl impression, but he wasn't done. "If you wish to leave Port Royal, I will do all in my power to see it done…however, unfair as it might be for me to say…I have no desire to see you go."

Something that felt very much like adrenaline returned to her, pushing through the fatigue, but doing nothing to clear the fuzzy static from Theo's head as she stared at him in disbelief. Only after ten solid seconds of that staring did she accept that she really had heard him properly. And that she wasn't reading too far into his words. Because she'd given ample time for him to cough and clarify 'because if you don't, Elizabeth will be pissed off at me' or something along those lines.

When those ten seconds threatened to stretch into thirty, he bowed his head and took a swig of his own drink, having to reach for the tray where he'd pushed it aside. It was that sudden bashfulness that had Theo plucking up the courage to make a confession of her own.

"I've spent the last few weeks trying to rid myself of any feelings I had for you, and all the time beforehand denying completely that they even existed."

"Had?" he echoed, his face only just betraying a hint of downcast as he returned his glass to his tray.

"Does it matter?"

The weakness in her voice gave away that her use of the past tense hadn't been entirely accurate. Despite her best efforts, these last few weeks. Even before that, really, for every very good reason she'd listed to Elizabeth as to why she should not and could not get attached.

"Why would it not?" he asked.

"Because of the very beautiful, clever, brilliant, societally-approved woman up the hill who you'll soon be proposing to," she pointed out drily, before adding belatedly. "Or so I'd guess."

"That guess is mistaken," he replied, voice gentle.

When she stared at him then, he returned the gaze evenly…and softly…and hopefully.

Logic screamed at her to be dismayed. Because this changed everything. Not just on a personal level, but on a grand-scheme-of-things, world-ending, the plans-of-ancient-sea-goddesses scale. And that couldn't be good. Could it?

But Christ, she was tired. And scared. As well as lonely. And she was hearing that the man she had feelings for actually returned them – despite everything she'd been telling herself since her own feelings started to grow. It was difficult to know whether to laugh or cry. Ordinarily she'd have flat out refused to do either, but in her present state (and much to her own horror) she didn't have much say in the matter. So she did both.

A small mercy came in the fact that it wasn't extreme. She wasn't pissing herself with laughter while also sobbing herself into a fit of hyperventilation. No, her eyes misted up, and she breathed a few disbelieving laughs, but they were cut short when faced with the heart-rending sincerity on his face.

"Are you mad?" she asked. "Surely this is…this is what just happened talking, or…or…"

"I am thinking more clearly, as far as this matter is concerned, than I have in months," he insisted.

As he spoke, he leaned forward and clasped one of her hands in his, squeezing gently. The increased proximity that brought about seemed to dawn on him at the same time it did her, and he shifted as if tempted to back up – worried, maybe, that her decision to name him a madman had been a rejection.

But then Theo squeezed his hand back, and he shifted forward rather than back. At first he moved painstakingly slowly, as if to erase any doubt of his intention and leave her time to put an end to it. Instead, her eyes instinctively fluttered shut, one tear slipping down her face thanks to her earlier flurry of emotion, and then his lips were on hers.

By modern standards, the kiss was tame. His lips slotted over hers, one thumb coming up to wipe away the tear that had just fallen, but he did not deepen it – nor did he try to cop a feel, or move the kisses downwards, towards her jaw and neck. None of that surprised her. The way that it knocked her off her feet (or would have, if she'd been on them) did. A sign of the times or of the man, she didn't know, but the way she melted when he drew back a little, only to lose composure and kiss her again - like he was powerless but to do so - could not be ignored.

For it was so very, very dangerous. And she couldn't bring herself to care about that fact.

#ctw #catch the wind #ftt #fallen through time esta-elavaris #james/theodora #james x theodora #pirates of the caribbean fanfiction #pirates of the caribbean fanfic #potcfic #james norrington fanfiction #james norrington fanfic #james norrington x oc #james norrington/oc

[esta-elavaris]

Flufftober Day 29: "Hey, wake up!" - James Norrington/OC [776 words]

My Flufftober '23 masterpost can be found here, and my behemoth of a main fic about these two is here 💜✨

Theo sat down at the edge of the bed and leaned over the sleeping form of her husband, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. A light sleeper, even that was enough to stir him a little – but he wasn’t quite awake yet. That took another three kisses, trailing up his neck and along the side of his jaw.

He gave a low, rumbling murmur and spoke roughly without opening his eyes.

“If you’ve woken me for that, I’m unsure as to whether I should be irked or flattered.”

She grinned – mostly because he was still capable of stringing together such eloquent sentences within seconds of waking. Had the shoe been on the other foot, she’d be able to offer little more than monosyllabic grunts. Most of them explicit.

“What are you leaning more towards?” she asked.

James breathed a chuckle.

“Intrigue.”

Well, at least he hadn’t tired of her yet. Hopefully he wouldn’t be disappointed when she explained.

“Well, that will have to wait. Wake up.”

“I am awake.”

“Get up.”

“It’s too cold. And too early.”

God, she never though she’d see the day where they’d swapped these particular roles in this conversation. He was right, though – the curtains were drawn, and only the slightest grey tinge peeked out through the tiny gap between them. The sun would not properly rise for some time yet.

“I need to show you something.”

 “Unless Sparrow is peering through the windows and demanding entry, I’d rather not,” he mumbled. “If he is, I shall need you to fetch my rifle.”

“Oh, it’s far better than that.”

“Bloodthirsty wolves roaming the property, then?”

“James,” she groaned, dropping her forehead down to his cheek. “Just trust me.”

Maybe she was playing dirty, but it was for a good cause - and how could he argue with her when she broke out the big guns?

She slipped her feet into her docs and pulled her cloak on over her nightgown as he rubbed his eyes and dragged himself from the bed.

“Am I permitted to dress?” he asked drily.

“If I had my way, you never would,” she sighed – and then grinned at his good-humoured annoyance. “Breeches, cloak, boots. Don’t worry, we won’t be long.”

As he woke up and adjusted to, well, consciousness, he became a bit less grumpy and far more curious. Although her giddiness probably helped with that. Before long, he was moving with that navy-born efficiency, and she was coaxing him down the stairs and out of the front door.

It was then that the source of her excitement was unveiled. They could see their own breath as they stepped out into the dawn, and torrents of snow flurried down around them from the heavens. It must have been going on for some time, for everything was entirely blanketed in it, where there had been little other than frost when they went to bed.

“I wasn’t going to wake you, but I was worried it wouldn’t continue on for much longer,” she explained with a sheepish smile. “Not this heavily, anyway.”

Her excitement didn’t only come from her commitment to being a complete and utter tit. Back during their visit to Ireland, when she’d been busy revelling in the feeling of being truly and properly cold – which she’d missed sorely in the Caribbean – James had not shared her thrill at how the chill made their hands clumsy and their noses numb.

“There’s nothing you missed about Winter?” she prodded. “Nothing at all?”

To her surprise, James actually paused to truly consider the matter, falling silent with his eyes downcast – like it was something serious, that would require a thoughtful and measured course of action. Then, finally, he responded.

“Snow,” he said finally. “Not necessarily when it’s merely on the ground – then it becomes a nuisance – but when it’s actually falling. Heavily. Not a blizzard, just heavy snow. I miss that, I suppose. The way in which it looks chaotic, if you’re gazing upon it from indoors, but when you go out into it and it’s all about you, it doesn’t feel so. It feels calm.”

Theo stared at him, torn between disbelief and amazement. She hadn’t expected something so…so beautiful. Then he added.

“It’s like battle, in that respect.”

Ah. There was her husband.

“Feel like walking into battle with me one last time?” she teased – very much hoping he remembered the conversation.

Because if he didn’t, she really would look like a tit. But, to her relief, he smiled, and then he chuckled, shaking his head and following her out into the picturesque little clearing before their home.

“Any time,” he all but vowed. “Every time.”

Links: AO3 -- FF.net -- flufftober masterpost -- dividers by cafekitsune

#esta's flufftober '23 fills #flufftober2023 #flufftober 2023 #flufftober #james norrington/oc #james norrington x oc #james norrington fanfic #pirates of the caribbean fanfic #pirates of the caribbean fanfiction #potcfic

[esta-elavaris]

Flufftober Day 23: Trinket ~ James Norrington/OC [731 words]

My Flufftober '23 masterpost can be found here, and my behemoth of a main fic about these two is here 💜✨

Note: the necklace pictured is not how I imagine (or how I describe) Theo's necklace - which is a plain, flat silver heart pendant. But the only photos I could find of high enough quality were impossible to make work with the banner...or were on Elle Woods in Legally Blonde - and no amount of clever cropping would help. So, we had to compromise 💀

Set in part two of Catch the Wind, during their brief time on the Pearl together before the disastrous meeting with Jones.

Theo smiled softly. With Jack’s mood towards her thoroughly blackened, and a meeting with Jones on the horizon, it was difficult to find much to smile about – but James’ habit of slipping a hand into his coat pocket to pass a thumb over the silver pendant within never failed to tug at her heart. He was doing so then, leaning against the Pearl’s rail as he gazed at nothing, lost in thought. She’d noticed it back in Tortuga, of course, but everything had been so new, so delicate, that she was too wary to comment upon it. Not least because she didn’t want him to stop.

But here, out at sea with a fiery sunset casting them in a warm orange glow, she found herself emboldened.

“I’m glad it meant something to you,” she said quietly, coming to stand alongside him.

Apparently it really was such a force of habit that he hadn’t even realised he was doing it – for at first he blinked in confusion, before following the nod she offered to where his hand sat within the pocket.

“How could it not?” he asked, bemused. “It was all you had of home, it meant much to you, and you left it in my keeping. Along with those words…”

Words she’d borrowed from the bard, because she was hardly much of a poet herself.

“I…worried at times,” she spoke slowly, trying to find the words. “That it’d just be adding insult to injury. Like you’d think that I thought it made it all okay. Sorry I’m running again, but here’s a necklace – that makes us even, or something.”

He offered a rueful chuckle. “Infuriating you may have been at times, but you are never so thoughtless. I always knew you grappled with something, and while I could never have guessed what, I at least knew you did not do what you did lightly.”

If it was possible to fall for him all over again, Theo was certain she did so there and then. It must’ve shown on her face, for he huffed a laugh and regarded her with curiosity-tinged fondness.

“Does that surprise you so?”

“I’m just wondering how I got so lucky.”

“Involved with a disgraced former Commodore who knows not where his next meal will come from? Yes, you’re the envy of women everywhere.”

“That’s the last thing I see when I look at you.”

“Then I am the lucky one.”

Theo grinned, shaking her head. “God, we’re sickening. I’m the lucky one, no I’m the lucky one! – If the others hear us, they’ll make us walk the plank.”

“Then we may bicker over who looks the finest while swimming,” he said solemnly.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you swim.”

“Well, we must save some excitement for the future.”

“I don’t think a lack of excitement has ever been one of our hurdles,” she teased.

He chuckled lowly in agreement, leaning towards her and lowering his tone, speaking softly then as if worried at being overheard.

“I was glad to have it. The necklace. It was…a talisman, if you like. In times of doubt.”

“Of doubt?”

“For all I knew, you left because you believed I would soon be wed and had no wish to witness it. I did not doubt…” he paused at the word and smiled a little, “that I would find you. But, if you thought there was no hope and no use in waiting…I tried to be realistic as to what I might find. The necklace helped, where those worries reared their head.”

Could she fault him those fears? With all of her displays of angst and hurt and upset throughout his betrothal to Elizabeth? No, she could not. Especially not in this time – where it was drummed into all that women had to marry in order to gain some semblance of security and safety.

“Realistic?” she snorted. “There was never going to be anybody. Not after you. I would’ve become an old maid, sighing at the mental image of your face night after night.”

He scoffed. “I would not want that.”

“Well. In the words of Mick Jagger, you can’t always get what you want.”

James smirked, thought for a moment, and then replied.

“I laugh in the face of your Master Jagger – for I have proven him quite incorrect these last few weeks.”

Theo was too giddy at that to bother telling him how the rest of the lyrics went.

Links: AO3 -- FF.net -- flufftober masterpost -- dividers by cafekitsune

#esta's flufftober '23 fills #flufftober2023 #flufftober 2023 #james/theodora #james and theodora #james norrington x oc #james norrington/oc #james norrington fanfic #pirates of the caribbean fanfiction #potcfic #potc fanfic

[talesofesther]

Tenderness

Jack Sparrow x Reader

Summary: Jack doesn't think he needs affection, until Y/N proves him wrong.

A/N: Sooo this one is nothing serious, it's just an idea that popped into my mind and I wrote down, just because I feel like there's not enough emotional things about him out there. It's not very great either haha. I'm still a bit skeptical when writing Jack, not yet sure if I can capture his character right, but I'll keep practicing. Hope you guys can enjoy this anyway. ♥

Masterlist

Living the life of a pirate, Jack had barely known gentleness. It's the least one might expect for someone who lives like this, even in the pirate's code people are encouraged to leave their friends behind. The captain's life held no loving acts, comforting touches, or sweet nothings, and he was fine with that.

Jack was fine with not having someone to hold his hand and tell him everything was going to be alright when the deadliest of threats appeared. He convinced himself that he wasn't jealous of what Will and Elizabeth had. He told himself that the thought that plagued his mind telling him he was alone, was only that, a thought. He didn't have anybody, not really. And he was fine with that, Jack wasn't even the one to like feelings anyway.

That is, until Y/N came along.

She was picked up at a port in a small town that the Black Pearl had once stopped by. With nowhere to go, it seemed like destiny wanted Jack to find her that day. He offered her a home aboard the ship until she could find a better town to live in.

It's been nearly two months since Y/N first hopped aboard the Pearl, she had already made friends with every member of the crew, always with a smile on her face. Even Gibbs stopped telling Jack that it was bad luck to have her on board. And the captain was getting pretty used to having her around. He liked to look down from the helm and see Y/N roaming around on the deck. Sometimes she would go all the way to the front of the ship to watch how the vessel made its way through the water, Jack could tell from the spark on her eyes that she loved the sea just as much as he did.

After spending a couple of weeks on the ocean, the Pearl stopped in a fairly big town. Mainly to grab some extra supplies, but also because Jack had a lead on a new treasure he was after. And it was safe to say that it went terribly wrong.

Y/N could see two figures running towards the Back Pearl in the distance, followed by a large number of guards. Squinting her eyes, she could make out the forms of Jack and Gibbs. Jack was waving his arms around like a maniac and shouting at the top of his lungs.

"GET READY TO SET SAIL"

As her expression turned into a mix of confusion and desperation, Y/N shouted to the crew. "Prepare to leave, guys"

As soon as Jack and Gibbs stepped foot aboard the ship, they took off with full sail. Y/N at the helm guiding the vessel while the two men caught their breaths. The guards were left behind at the port, barely.

Once they were at a safe distance, Y/N made her way towards Jack on deck. "The hell was that?"

"I think the local soldiers didn't like our visit" Jack explained as if it wasn't that big of a deal. Most of the crew came closer to them as well, all curious to know what the hurry was all about.

"You think?" Y/N exclaimed.

"Did we get the supplies?" Jack raised his brows and looked around his ship.

"Luckily yes" one of the other crew members answered, while Y/N took a closer look at Jack's state. He was mostly fine, but there was a rather large cut on his forearm and smaller ones on his chest and cheek, clearly from a sword. There was a fight then.

"All good then" Jack smiled and walked inside his quarters.

At first times, Y/N would be taken aback at how much they did not care about things like this. But she soon realized that this was just the everyday life of a pirate. Running around chasing adventures that may or may not lead to authorities coming after you with the intention to kill. It should be scary, but it was mostly exciting. More and more, the girl found herself loving this freedom.

However, that didn't stop her from worrying. After the crew dispersed and went back to their respective posts, Y/N made her way to the storage room, grabbed some bandages and medicine, and walked to Jack's quarters.

The girl gently knocked on his door and waited for him to answer. Shifting from foot to foot, she felt an uneasy feeling making it's way to her stomach. Y/N was aware that she was starting to like Jack more than she was supposed to, but it was pretty inevitable. Even if he himself didn't notice, Jack was sweet. To her at least, he was usually gentle. In his own way, but he was. And that side of him had started to capture the girl's heart.

The door opened and revealed Jack, his big dark eyes sparkling with curiosity as to who was disturbing him. To Y/N's surprise, he was dressed rather casually. His 'effects' were put aside, along with his coat and hat. His sleeves were up as to not touch the gash on his forearm.

Upon seeing Y/N's figure outside his door, Jack smiled and stepped aside, motioning with his arm for her to come in. "To what do I owe the pleasure, love?" His sultry voice said as the girl walked inside his quarters and he closed the door again.

"Came to fix you up. We can't have the captain bearing an infection, can we?" Y/N said with a smirk.

Her words made Jack's eyes travel to her hands, where she was holding the bandages and medicines. Her attitude made him frown for a second. "There's no need for that" he made his way to walk past her and towards his table, but a gentle hand on his arm stopped him.

"I insist, Jack. Let me help, it won't take long" her words were tender to his ears, and Jack found himself unable to answer. Her genuine worry sent a strange feeling through his chest. He only nodded and sat on his bed, Y/N followed suit and sat beside him, no space between them.

She started her work on the cut in his arm, with careful movements she cleaned the wound and wrapped a bandage around it. Every time her fingertips touched his skin, Jack would shiver slightly. She was so careful with her touches, so tender. Jack didn't remember the last time someone touched him with such gentleness. His expression said as much, his eyes were big while he looked at the girl in front of him, his lips were ajar and his heart was thundering with raw emotion. He stayed silent most of the time, trying to understand what was happening to him. He didn't like it... Or, did he?

Jack felt conflicted, why would a sweet soul like her, grace someone like him with those gestures?

Moving to the gash on his chest, Y/N had to move his shirt to the side a little, a soft blush creeping up on her cheeks. She was surprised when Jack didn't make any suggestive comments. Looking up at him, she took in his puppy-like eyes, they were glazed over, she wondered if he knew that. "Everything alright, Jack?" It was just a whisper, there was an intimate aura in the room that Y/N didn't feel like breaking.

Her question made Jack blink a couple of times and raise his eyebrows, as if he had just came back to reality. "Of course, love" he said in a breath as his eyes traveled from her eyes, to her lips and back up at her eyes.

With a smile, she took care of the cut in his chest. Once she was done, Y/N allowed one of her fingers to trace the exposed skin there. Jack had many scars, for some reason the thought of him being hurt made the girl's stomach turn, even if it was part of his life.

The brush of her fingers on the sensitive skin of his chest made Jack tense a little, a small smirk adorned his face.

Lastly, there was the small cut on his cheek. It didn't need any bandages so Y/N only used a bit of damp cloth to clean it. Jack's dark eyes met hers as her fingers lightly touched his face, he was uncharacteristically serious now.

"You should be a little more careful" Y/N's sweet voice broke the silence. The dim light in his room made it hard for her to read Jack's expression, but she could tell he looked troubled.

"Pirate's life, love" Jack's voice was low, gentle. A tone reserved probably only for her, a side of him that maybe no one else has had the pleasure of knowing. Or didn't care enough to know. The captain made the slightest of movements forward, but then gulped and moved away again. Something stopped him, it was unusual for Jack to think much before kissing someone. But he knew this wouldn't be just a random kiss.

He didn't want to admit to himself that he had developed feelings for her. He's never been in love before, it scared him. Jack didn't know how to love, how to be good for someone like her.

His conflicted thoughts must have reflected on his face, because Y/N brought her other hand up and gently caressed his cheek. The captain closed his eyes at her actions, surrendering himself to her. Her warm hand gracefully traced his cheek like he was the most precious and delicate thing in the world. Jack never felt that way before.

Y/N regarded the man in front of her with curious eyes, this wasn't the Jack she was used to. He looked... More true to himself here. Behind closed doors, just the two of them, Jack seemed human. Y/N found herself being pulled towards him, soon their noses were brushing.

The next thing that Jack felt was her lips on his. It was only a faint touch, but it made him freeze. Her mouth was soft while pressed against his, so tender. And he melted on her hands for a moment, completely oblivious to the fact that his eyes were watering.

He didn't want to acknowledge the fact that she would leave, but he knew it was about to happen, everyone leaves eventually. Because that was the only reason for this, yes? This was a goodbye, or why else would she kiss him?

Y/N pulls back when she feels a tingle of wetness on her face. Her eyes widen when she sees tears on Jack's face, her heart breaking at the sight. "What happened?" She asks somewhat panicked.

Jack's mouth hovers open for a bit, pondering over her words and why she said them. Then he acknowledges his tears, and embarrassment fills his gut. Quickly wiping them away, Jack abruptly stands up. He never cries, why now of all times?

"Jack, I'm sorry if-" Y/N got up as well and stood in front of the captain.

"Just- just leave already, will ya?" He interrupts her, moving his shaky hands around. The many feelings swimming around on his chest not making it easy for him to stay calm.

Y/N was confused, to say the very least. She didn't know Jack for long, but she knew he wasn't one to show this much emotion all of a sudden. "Leave? What do you mean?"

"That's the reason for all-" Jack gestured to Y/N's general direction "-this, right? You're leaving" he gave her a smile, but it held no happiness, his eyes still held unshed tears on them.

Realization hit Y/N like a bullet. Jack was way more damaged than she thought he was, the fact that his only association to affection was a goodbye made Y/N's heart clench. She gave him a sad smile. "Jack, I'm not leaving" her whispered words made Jack's breath hitch.

She closed the distance between them and embraced Jack. Holding his body close to hers. "My home is here. On the Pearl. With you"

Jack's eyes looked around his room while he processed her words, until they finally closed and he slowly raised his arms to hold her body flush against his. The first hug he's had in forever, and it made what was left of his barriers crumble. He buried his head on her shoulder, not caring about his reputation for once, and just allowing himself to be held.

He tried not to dwell on the matter of why and how this happened. How she had this effect on him. How he suddenly felt like he was being suffocated by feelings. Or if he needed this so much that the simplest of gestures caught his heart.

Either way, Jack felt lighter than he's ever been before.

#jack sparrow #pirates of the caribbean #jack sparrow x reader #potcedit #johnny depp #captain jack sparrow #captain jack sparrow x reader #imagine #fanfic #potc #fluff #angst #potc x reader #my edit #my story #potcfic

[talesofesther]

Confessions

Jack Sparrow x Reader

Requested by @buzzed-beebee​​​

Summary: After a long night of drinking, Jack ends up sleeping together with Y/N, which makes him realize his growing feelings for the girl.

A/N: This is my first time writing for Jack, so I'm sorry if it's not perfect, but I really enjoyed this and want to write more for him. Idk if this turned out exactly how you wanted, but I hope it's good enough ♥.

Masterlist

The salty and cool breeze of the sea kissed Y/N's skin as she lazily made her way up onto the Black Pearl, Jack following close behind her. It was already late at night and the moon was adorning the night sky, they had stopped in Tortuga to restock, but mainly to give the crew a break and allow everyone a night of partying and drinking only, after spending almost three months at sea.

Y/N's mind was blurred by all the alcohol she had consumed, the girl wasn't usually one to drink, but when you are under the influence of crewmates it's hardly possible to not chuck down a drink or two. But soon Y/N had already lost count of how many glasses of rum she had and her feet were already wobbly and her thoughts weren't as sharp as they used to be.

Jack's eyes followed Y/N's form as she stumbled on the deck of his ship, a tiny smile adorning his face. As surprising as it was, he wasn't nearly as drunk as Y/N was. He drank his share of rum, of course, but made sure to keep his mind focused to watch his ship. He wasn't going to let his beloved Pearl be stolen from him over a mistake of having too many drinks, not again.

Although deep down Jack knew this wasn't the only reason for his soberness, for when they entered the tavern, he instantly noticed the hungry eyes that the men there threw towards Y/N. It made his stomach twist in an unpleasant way and he would never forgive himself if he was too drunk to defend her from any unwanted attention.

"Jack, we need to do this more times" Y/N's giggles captured the pirate's attention. She was loosely holding a half-empty bottle of rum in her hand as she did her best to stay balanced with the waves that were gently rocking the ship.

The faint moonlight glow gave the girl's eyes an almost heavenly shine, Jack nearly lost himself in them. "Certainly, but..." He took slow strides towards Y/N and took the bottle from her hands. "I think you've had enough for one night, savvy?"

Y/N scoffed and lightly pushed Jack's chest. "Bullshit, I'm not even that drunk" her speech was slurred, proving herself wrong.

Even in her drunk state, Y/N couldn't stop her heart from beating loudly in her chest because of how close Jack was standing to her. She was glad they were currently the only ones aboard the ship, for she could look into those pretty dark eyes of his just a tad longer without worrying about the comments. Y/N liked him, there was no mystery there, and maybe Jack liked her too, but none of them had ever acted on the matter.

"So captain" the girl cleared her throat and walked towards Jack's cabin. "What is our next heading?" She leaned down on his table to look at the maps there, squinting her eyes to try and comprehend what she was seeing, but she couldn't seem to focus.

Jack grimaced and thought for a minute, settling the bottle down he walked inside his cabin as well. It wasn't new to have Y/N there with him, she knew she always had free access to his quarters on the ship whenever she wanted, but something about tonight made him feel uncharacteristically insecure. "Still thinking about it, love" Jack said in his usual nonchalant tone.

Raising her head towards him, Y/N smirked. "I'm sure you'll think of something" it was only a faint statement to fill the silence as she made her way to stand in front of Jack.

"You always do" feeling bold, or not being able to filter her actions because of the rum, Y/N raised one hand and lightly traced Jack's cheek.

The pirate frowned at her actions, his lips slightly ajar. Her touch made him shiver with nervousness and calmed him at the same time. With his eyes half-closed, he leaned in until his nose was touching hers and their breaths were mingling. But he stopped himself, it didn't feel right to take advantage of her like this, even if it was everything that he wanted. His hands were prickling to pull her closer.

"Can I stay here tonight?" Y/N's request was nothing but a whisper, she didn't feel like leaving his side just yet.

Her words made Jack blink multiple times to pull himself out of the trance her proximity had captured him in. "Love, I don't think that's something you would be happy with in the morning" he gestured around with his hands and took a tiny step away from her, an unsure smile on his face.

"Why not?" The girl chuckled and shook her head. She abruptly turned around and almost fell to the ground when the whole room started to spin, but somehow Y/N managed to stay on her feet and walk to Jack's enormous bed, where she threw herself down on the comfy mattress. "Oh this bed is so comfy" she mumbled to herself.

Y/N extended one of her arms up towards Jack, who was eyeing her intently. "Come here let's talk then, I promise I'll leave later"

Her drunken and cute smile was just enough to make Jack surrender himself to her and lay down on his bed as well, making sure to keep a good distance between them. He was never one to admit to feelings, he mostly avoided them to be honest. But his heart ached at how much he wanted this to be real, and not some drunken mistake that Y/N would probably not even remember in the morning.

"Jack, why don't you want me to stay?" The girl laid on her side and looked at Jack with big and innocent eyes.

He let out a long sigh and fidget with his fingers before he turned to face her as well. "You're the one who wouldn't want to stay, believe me" he was no stranger to how much she hated the comments that sometimes floated around the ship whenever they were seen standing too close for too long. All in all, he presumed it was because she didn't like him like that.

Y/N stayed silent for a good couple of seconds working her hazy mind to make sense of what he had said. "No, no. I'm the one who asked to stay, how can you say that?"

"That's the rum in you talking" Jack tried to reason with her, bringing his hand up to brush away a strand of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes.

Y/N gently took his wrist on her hand and moved closer to him, until their noses were once again touching. "Jack, you know I've always liked you"

Her sentence made him audibly gulp, and he finds his words stuck in his throat. She had no right to play with his heart like that.

Moving her head forward, Y/N sweetly closes the distance between them, giving Jack a gentle peck on the lips. His lips are surprisingly soft against hers, and she finds it odd that he doesn't move to deepen the kiss.

When she pulls away, Jack still has his eyes closed, he feels vulnerable around her. "Love, you shouldn't-" he makes his voice work, but is soon silenced by Y/N's lips colliding with his own once again.

This time the urge to pull her close consumes him completely and he loosely snakes an arm around her waist, bringing her body to stay flush against his. Jack tells himself she's not different from any other girl he's kissed before, that there's nothing more to it. But it's hard to deny the strong tug of emotion in his chest as her lips move against his. She tastes like rum, but is much more intoxicating than the drink itself.

They break apart when their lungs ask for air, but none of them pulls away more than necessary. "What... Was that?" Jack's voice is low and small, the effect she had on him is evident in his whole demeanor.

"A kiss" Y/N gave him a small and tired smile. Jack could already see the way she was fighting to keep her eyes open, and he tensed.

"You should go now, darling" he said, but made no effort to remove his arm from around her.

"But I want to stay with you" Y/N's mumbled words were hard to understand, but Jack did, and they tugged at his heart. He sighed and hugged the girl closer to him, placing a tender kiss on her forehead and resting his head just above hers. His arms were securely around her body and he hated how much he loved to have her close.

He caressed her back until he could feel her steady breathing on his neck, meaning she was already asleep. Jack took way longer to be able to sleep himself. His mind was troubled with the fact that he might actually have fallen for the girl in his arms, and if anything that happened tonight meant anything to her.

______

Jack woke up the next morning alone, Y/N was nowhere to be seen. He wished he wasn't so sober last night, just so he could forget how her lips felt like against him, and not want to feel it again. And again. And again. He tried to not make a big deal about the way his stomach dropped and how his heart ached for her.

But for the whole day, Y/N ignored him, avoided him even. The Black Pearl left Tortuga and sailed to sea once again, Jack's compass followed Y/N's every move around the deck and that was the last confirmation he needed to admit to himself he was having feelings for her. When the sun started to set, the captain couldn't take the anxiety anymore and told Gibbs to take the helm.

Jack found Y/N in the ship's storage, organizing their new supplies. He wasn't one to feel nervous, but the thought of rejection made his hands twitch and his heart rate pick up.

"Y/N" upon hearing his voice, the girl froze and bit her lip. Seeing no way out of it, she turned around to him.

"Jack... Captain" Y/N said in a serious tone. Her mind was still placing together all that happened last night, her memories were a bit fuzzy. But waking up cuddled close to Jack, that she remembered clearly.

Jack opened his mouth and moved his hands around, trying to not make a big deal of his nerves. "You've been... Distant" he shrugged, not really sure about what to say or how to ask the one thing he wanted to know.

Y/N sighed heavily. "Look, whatever happened last night, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..." The girl thought for a moment, her eyes meeting Jack's expectant ones. "... Cross any boundaries"

Jack pouted at her words and moved towards her, licking his lips he slowly raised his hands to either side of her face but didn't quite touch her. "But was it... Real?" He raised his eyebrows to her, doing his best to mask his beating heart and how vulnerable he was right now.

Y/N's expression softened, she looked down to his lips and back up at his big and gentle eyes. "It was" was all she could whisper.

Jack's hands finally cupped her cheeks, his thumbs tracing her soft skin there. He felt dazed and almost light-headed with the information that she did, in fact, really felt something towards him. No one has ever made him feel these kinds of emotions, he felt a lump forming on his throat.

"You okay, Jack?" Y/N's gentle voice made him smile.

"More than okay, love" for once Jack allowed his feelings to be shown in his voice. He leaned in, and once again captured her lips on his.

#jack sparrow #pirates of the caribbean #jack sparrow x reader #captain jack sparrow #captain jack sparrow x reader #johnny depp #imagine #fanfic #potc #potc x reader #jack sparrow x y/n #angst #fluff #my edit #my story #potcfic