Kindred Spirits

Chapter 15

A Change of Heart?

Jack went into a tavern that was near the smithy, but unfortunately it wasn't one of the rugged, raunchy ones with scantily clad women to enjoy – not like the ones he relished spending time in while he was in his beloved Tortuga. Ah, Tortuga... but at least there was a good supply of rum at this particular pub, which meant it would have to do for the meanwhile. He drowned a few – well, more then a few to be perfectly honest – mugs of his favourite amber coloured liquor, while he came up with a proper plan. He didn't know why, but he needed to see Duville. It didn't seem to matter how cruel, how vicious or how much of a pain in the arse she was, he just couldn't just sit there with the knowledge that the vixen was in trouble. Hell, she deserved trouble, but HE wanted to be the one to give her that, not the bloody Royal Navy.

It wasn't until almost sunrise when Jack returned to the Turner Smithy. He spent quite a bit of time devising a good plan, making sure it would work. After all –he- had thought of it, so therefore it was a bloody brilliant plan. Granted, it wasn't exactly original, but there was no need to inform Duville of that minor detail. His lips formed a sly grin while he thought of the encounter he would soon have with the woman that made him act even more insane than he did normally. He longed to see the cocky, feisty hellcat caged, even though he knew that she would positively hate him to see her in such a state. Of course this might be what made the plan so perfect. It would indeed be most excellent to be able to gloat at her misfortune.

After he skilfully picked the lock of the Blacksmith's shop, he stormed through the smithy and down the hall that joined the smithy with the Turners house. He then made his way towards the Eunuch Master Bedroom and just barged in, without another thought about a little thing called privacy. After all, it was common knowledge to Jack that dear William was a eunuch, so he knew that there wouldn't be very much action going on in there anyway.

He strode into the room, stood next to the bed and looked down at his friend. Just as I suspected, sleepin' like a little babe...

'Will!'

Jack tried calling for Will's attention, but since the eunuch didn't move a muscle, he attempted to rouse him by grabbing his shoulders and shaking him forcefully. He thought that this might help in order to wake him from whatever obviously lame dreams he was dreaming.

'William!'

At Jack's screech, Will slowly opened his eyes and came back into the world of the living. He stared blankly into Jack's eyes as Jack began speaking. 'I need me a cloak or some nice brown cloth along with a rope... Oh and I'll also be needing yer Bible!'

Will rubbed his eyes in a vain attempt to chase the sleep out of them, after realizing this was futile, he settled for just looking at Jack with squinted eyes. 'Come again?' he spoke, his voice still thick from sleep.

'No time ta explain lad, just help me wit' this. Now get up an' get yer lazy arse out of bed.'

'Fine, Jack... I'm awake. Now why do you need my cloak and the other things you just mentioned? What are you up to this time?'

Jack simply rolled his eyes. 'Well, I can't bloody well waltz into prison lookin' like me normal handsome self now can I? Now could ye hurry it up a bit, ain't got all day, mate...' he scoffed and eyed the still half-asleep Will with his hands on his hips while he tapped his foot impatiently.

Elisabeth rolled over and rubbed her eyes to look at the pair. 'What's going on Will? And what's this about a ball?'

Jack and Will looked at her with puzzled expressions and simultaneously asked, 'Ball!'

Elisabeth now sat upright in the bed and yawned, 'I thought I heard someone say something about waltzing...'

'There's no ball, luv. Just go back ta sleep...' he patted Elisabeth's arm reassuringly as she lay back down in the bed and closed her eyes once more. 'Now help me William, I be in need of a disguise.'

As Elisabeth snuggled under the covers again, she wanted to ask about this disguise of Jack's, but sleep claimed her again before she could even attempt to form her thoughts into words.

Will glanced longingly back at the bed and his sleeping wife before he stepped out of bed and put on his blue robe that hung on the bedpost.

'What do you have in mind, Jack?' he asked, still not having the foggiest clue about how Jack was going to manage to create a proper disguise from just a cloak and cloth.

'Much better, lad! Remember when you saved me from the noose and the officer read me proclamation?' Jack inquired. Of course he distinctly remembered every charge his proclamation stated, but he wanted to make sure the whelp did as well.

'Aye.'

'Then does impersonatin' a cleric of the Church of England ring a bell?'

Will's eyes widened as the meaning of the items Jack needed suddenly became blatantly apparent to him. 'Oh no! Jack, please tell me you're not going to...'

'That be exactly what I'm gonna do lad – and you're going to help me. Now, I've pulled it off once, so it's bound ta work a second time, as long as I do it right. Me guess is that they won't allow the tart ta have any visitors... but even they won't send away a Friar, now would they?' he smirked at Will. 'Of course they wouldn't! Those bloody wigs, being the noble God fearing Brits that they are, would never deny such a request and therefore would grant the bitch the last chance of to clean her conscience.'

William knew Jack had a point with his plan of his and decided to help him, since he knew Jack would do it with or without his help, and to be perfectly honest, Will would rather help than to have Jack get himself killed or caught trying another one of his brilliant plans. With that thought in mind, he chuckled while he searched for his dark brown cloak.

'What's so funny, boy?'

'You say you hate her with a passion, and yet here you are going through all this trouble in order to save her. It's just incredibly ironic and I find it rather amusing, that's all,' Will said with a grin.

'Who said anythin' 'bout savin' her? I just wanna see the Hellcat locked up, that be all. Wanna see that she gets what she deserves.'

'Whatever you say Jack...' Will chuckled as he continued to dig through his dressers and closets.

'Good day, kind Sir,' said Jack as he greeted one of the men at the Fort that stood in front of him. Just for the occasion, he spoke in an amazingly accurate, almost perfect, British accent.

'Good day,' the guard replied.

'My name is Friar Brayden Gale and I am here to see the woman prisoner, the pirate. Our order finds it very important that she receive this last chance to clean her conscience and thus give her the ability to place her soul and destiny in the hands of the Almighty.'

'That particular prisoner isn't allowed any visitors, Sir. Not only that, but let me assure you that the woman you speak of does not have a soul to save. The woman is pure and utter evil. She truly is not even worthy of your time and effort.' The man's right on th' money. She sure as hell don't deserve any chances and she's definitely evil... Nevertheless, you need ta see her, don't ye Jack? He grinded his teeth at the mere thought. Yes, he bloody did...

It was this thought that set his plan into action and gave Jack the will to put on one of his finest charades, and what a convincing charade it was. 'You see Sir; we believe that every person – no matter their past or occupation – is worth the time and effort of the Church of England. Even black sheep are sheep, and we must tend and care to them nonetheless. Take me to her, so we might give her the chance to redeem herself from her dark past and pray for forgiveness before she is to be hanged.'

The guard glanced down at the thick black book Jack held in his hands before his eyes traveled over his attire, then back to meet Jack's own, and nodded.

'I shall take you to her, but I must warn you, this is no ordinary woman. Be careful.'

Now tell me somethin' I don't know... Once the guard's back was turned, a small smile formed on his well-shaped lips.

'Honestly this woman is a menace. She killed two of our finest men, injured two others, pick-pocketed the Governor's money pouch, and broke into Officer Edwards's house all in one day, and then she pushed her luck even further when she attempted to kill the Commodore just yesterday... Luckily she'll be out of our hands soon.'

Ah, a woman after me own heart... Jack mused after hearing the list of damages, but then promptly chocked on his own saliva when he heard himself think that.

'Something wrong Friar?' the guard inquired.

Jack cleared his throat hoping that this would also dislodge that disturbing thought from his mind. 'Ahem. No, nothing wrong Sir. Just a little frog in my throat.'

The guard nodded and led him down the corridor, along the stairs, and into the – all too familiar – dungeon where the prisoners were held captive. When they entered the dungeon, Jack looked around the little area and was quite impressed by the sheer amount of redcoats that were down here. There weren't even this many guards when I was 'ere... he pondered. The man led him past the wall of empty prison cells... There ain't anyone 'ere 'cept fer her! His eyebrows shot up with this thought. Truly amazing how heavily she's guarded...

'Is the woman pirate your only prisoner?' Jack inquired with genuine interest.

'She is for the moment. We arrested two sailors a few days ago, but they were brought to the Magistrate for questioning just moments ago.'

'Ah, I see. No hangings today then?'

'Oh no, the sailors won't be hanged, but the Dragon Lady surely will, Sir. First thing tomorrow, if I'm not mistaken.'

Jack cringed inwardly; he didn't have much time at all. This had better work! I've just gotta get her out before sunrise tomorrow... His eyes widened when he realized his thoughts had betrayed him yet again. He only came here to look her up, pay her a visit, and rub in the fact that she'd gotten herself caught, didn't he? No ye didn't Jack, ye came to get 'er out, even if th' truth won't get through that thick skull o' yers. She means something to ye and ye know it. Ye can't stop thinkin' 'bout 'er and now 'ere ye are longin' to hold her... Why are ye still fightin' it, Jack? Ye know it's th' bloody truth so deal wit' it. He bit his lip again, something he noticed he was doing a lot lately. That voice was right... And one thing's for sure, Captain Jack Sparrow hated that this particular truth was revealed, even if it was to himself.

They stopped in front of a smaller enclosure and there she was, sprawled out on the floor with her face to the wall, humming to herself as she lazily twirled a strand of black curls around her finger. He caught another glimpse of the tattoo on her back while she faced away from him, and as she rolled over on her back, he got a glimpse of her profile. Good God, she be beautiful, and even more so without th' braids.

The guard that had led Jack to the cell spoke just then, and Jack shook his head slightly to get his mind back into reality. 'There she is, Friar. Good luck to you. You're certainly going to need it. She has a sharp tongue and trust me she won't hesitate to use it.'

'Thank you, but I am sure I can manage,' Jack courteously nodded to the guard as his gaze fell on Devon once more. She seemed lost in thought, and she seemed to pay no attention to him or even anything else around her. She just kept on singing the same lines softly in her weathered voice:

Your eyes send shivers down my spine

they’re dark, but look like mine.

It’s like I see my soul’s reflection in a mirror baby

I get confused by what I see

When I look at you,

I see the worst side of me


She looked so innocent at this moment, the curls that fell around her face in a certain way and the voice that sounded distant, almost as if she were drifting somewhere that no one could reach her. Little did he know how right he was, Devon used her singing as a shield and a medium to sort out her feelings and arrange her thoughts. Music and singing acted as Devon's sanctuary. Whenever she lost her foothold on something or needed to clear her mind, she sang. At this moment, Devon had crept into her sanctuary again to block out the pain she felt, a last attempt to banish Jack Sparrow from her mind and to free herself from the images of him that constantly floated in her subconscious.


Jack had to concentrate hard on the words she sang because he could barely hear them, but he felt his heart jump in his throat when he was finally able to discern what they were...

Carved from the same wood, two of a kind

We we’re raised on the wrong side of a one track mind

We can never be together

That’s what I’ve come to see

‘Cause I don’t now whose worse.. you or me.

Looking at you, baby, I see the worst side of me.

He studied her face, swollen with big bruises and blue flecks, while her left eye was slightly swollen over, more than likely from an encounter with someone's fist. He watched intently as she ran her hand along her neck, right over the red scarf that hid the scar underneath, as she kept on singing. She be rubbin' the scar I gave her... an' she be singin' 'bout me...


Every medal has two sides

But on ours the are no rights

I’ve tried not to tip the scale

But every time I try harder, I fail.

The darker side always rules the light.

It just doesn’t make sense.

How can two wrongs, feel so right?

It feels so goddamn right…

All of a sudden Jack felt a mixture of nausea and bliss whirl through his body at the same time. Before he could waste time to determine which one of those feelings was stronger, he remembered the task at hand and had to keep to the role in which he had to play.

He scratched his neck, unintentionally mimicking Devon's earlier action, and spoke in his fancy accent, since the guard still stood nearby and he could not ruin his only chance to see Devon. 'Miss Duville, my name is Friar Brayden Gale and I've come in the name of the Church of England.'

Devon seemed to pull out of her trance, and she rose to her feet slowly, wincing with even the slightest movement, with the pain clearly showing on her face and in the piercing blue eyes that were looking up at him. Her trademark smirk began to form on her bruised face, curling her dry and cracked lips.

'Sorry, what did ye say yer name was?'

'Friar Brayden Gale.'

She chuckled when she heard the name a second time. Not long after her chuckle turned into a throaty laugh and she had to hold her sides in an attempt to hold herself still, to help soothe the pain her laughing has caused. However, the more she thought of the name of this Friar, the louder her laughter became.

'May I ask what it is you seem to find so funny, Duville?' one of the guards asked.

'This be a cleric of the Church of England, an' he goes by a name that means wanton,' she stated matter-of-factly, glancing towards the guard that was standing behind the Friar.

When she saw him looking sheepishly towards the Friar and back to her, she chuckled quietly and rolled her eyes. 'My God I can't believe how stupid ye Brits are sometimes! Wanton - amongst other things - means casual and unrestrained in sexual behavior... an' he be a Friar fer cryin' out loud! I'm sorry but to me that's just too bloody funny, mate!' No sooner had she finished her sentence than she burst out laughing again, both pleasure and pain showing on her face due to the bruises she retained, though her eyes still sparkled with amusement.

Jack tried very hard to contain his own laughter. Those moronic guards hadn't noticed his well-chosen name, but she did. She was a clever little minx indeed. Moreover, he felt very relieved now that he'd seen her laugh again. Not only because she was extremely beautiful when she laughed, but he was afraid that all of her time in a cell like this might've affected her. But no, not this little Hellcat. He marveled at how attractive she was when she laughed, but then even more so when she was angry.

'However amusing the situation may be to you Miss Duville, I am here to offer you a final chance for redemption before you meet your Maker.'

'Oh, I am ready to meet my Maker. Whether my Maker is prepared for the great ordeal of meeting me is another matter entirely,' she stated, her voice full of amusement. Jack smiled; how he loved her witty retorts. They were answers that could have very well come out of his mouth if he were in her position. He decided to take his questioning on to another level, anxiously awaiting another one of her clever answers.

'So in other words, there's no need to clean your conscience, milady?'

'No, but if I seem to give a damn, please inform me. I would hate to be giving the wrong impression.' She retorted cockily.

Sparrow stepped closer, once again very amused with the answers she dished out without hesitation. She was clever, witty and sarcastic and he was positively eating it up. A small grin formed on his face as he leaned onto the bars that separated him and Duville.

He turned his head towards the four men guarding the cells, and called to them, 'Gentlemen, would you mind if I had a moment alone with this fallen woman?'

The redcoats that guarded Devon glanced at each other, both happy to get the chance to leave her side, since they were going mad with nothing to do all day long, but they couldn't very well disobey direct orders to keep watch on her. Jack seemed to sense the thoughts and anxiety that ran through their minds and spoke up again, 'Honestly, I'm sure that I can handle her for a few moments gentlemen. She isn't armed and, after all, she is behind bars.'

This last bit seemed to persuade the guards and they relinquished to Jack's request. As they walked away, both Jack and Devon could barely suppress their grins.

Now they were alone. Jack leaned closer to the bars and dropped the fancy accent altogether as he hissed to Devon. 'Thought being down in this hellhole an' bein' beaten at yer own game – might I add – would 'ave softened ye up a bit, but NOOOO yer still as stubborn and devilish as th' same time ye were when we first met...'

Damn, only one man I know talks that way... She leaned in closer and attempted to peer underneath the hood of the cloak. What she saw were two very familiar and sexy chocolate eyes that stared back at her...

'Sparrow?'

'CAPTAIN! It's CAPTAIN Sparrow and ye damn well know that, bitch.'

'And that would be Miss Bitch to ye, Captain. Me compliments to yer getup, Sparrow, ye look almost sacred in that,' she smirked. 'You also picked quite a suitable name fer yerself, Friar!' again her throaty laugh echoed through the Fort's dungeon.

'I wish I could return that compliment Duville... but you wouldn't look sacred if you dressed completely in white, grew wings and had a halo over yer head,' he smirked an couldn't help but to add, 'And don't ye be forgettin' that a halo has only to fall but a few inches to become a noose, ye evil wench.'

'No kidding! Though if that halo were to fall it would more than likely get caught on me horns anyway.' Devon smirked and with her wicked grin in place, she taunted Jack more, 'Oh ye wound me, Friar,' and she stepped closer, resting against the bars as well, their eyes locking.

'Why did ye come 'ere, Sparrow? Miss me that much?'

'Nay, simply wanted ta see the untamable, uncatchable Devon Duville be caged, tha' be all.'

'Ah, the mighty Captain Jack Sparrow came ta gloat! Well what a surprise... Havin' fun now are ye?'

'Did they hurt ye Duville?' he asked while he studied her dirty bruised face, his voice laced with more concern than he intended to have.

'Nay, I got bored and thought it would be great fun to whack meself unconscious. Then I woke up and soon became bored again so I decided ta beat the shit out of meself as well...' she replied dryly. 'What does it look like Capt'n obvious? An' what do ye care anyways?'

Jack completely ignored the fact that she asked him a question and proceeded to ask her questions once more, 'What happened Duville? And who did that ta ye?'

'None of yer damn business, Sparrow.'

'I'd watch that tongue lass. Unless ye'd rather stay o' course... Though stayin' 'ere an' gettin' acquainted with Port Royals gallows ain't my idea o' a good time.'

Devon suppressed the craving that welled up from deep inside of her body at his innuendo or when he mentioned her tongue and flatly answered, 'I've escaped Norrington b'fore, so there be no need for ye ta rescue me, Sparrow. I ain't some defenseless Mary-Sue ye know.'

'I might know that wench, but ye sure as Hell look defenseless ta me at the moment, seein' as yer locked up in that cell an' all. An' don't ye be forgettin' that I've escaped Norrington too. So how 'bout ye and I join forces after I get ye out, and seeing how he hates both o' us wit' a bloody passion, and we have fun making 'is life a livin' Hell?'

Devon put a finger on her cracked, swollen lips and pretended to think his proposition over...

'I would rather rot,' she quipped back in a manner of seconds.

Jack trembled from sheer anger. 'You stubborn, evil tart! I risk me neck fer ye an' what do I get in return!'

Devon looked at the cloaked man that was waving his hands in front of her more wildly than he ever had done before. 'Why did ye come 'ere Jack?' she said softly, holding on to the bars and looking deep into his eyes. She tried to read his thoughts, but his eyes refused to give away any of their secrets.

'I honestly ain't got a clue, wasted me time anyways...' he said dimly but anger still lingered in his voice.

'Answer the bloody question, Sparrow! Ye're not the kind that sets foot in the lion's lair without giving it a good thought beforehand – and given the fact that ye are impersonatin' a cleric of the Church of England and smell as though you're in charge of the monasteries brewery, me guess is that ye've given this charade a lot of thought... now tell me why!'

He walked away, not willing or wanting to answer her. Hell he couldn't answer her, he didn't even know why he came himself. 'Hope ye 'ave a nice drop, luv. Ye certainly deserve it ye stupid obstinate wench!' he said harshly, hoping his words would have the desired effect on the Hellcat.

He wanted her to let him save her, maybe for once admit that she had a weakness and let him be her rescuer. He was attracted to her, much more than he had ever been to any other woman before. But he wouldn't admit that, he couldn't admit that... not even to himself.

As he sashayed off, he felt that strange sensation in the pit of his stomach again, the same feeling he had had since he first laid eyes on her. God, she turns me on – even when she looked this way and gets me ragin' with anger at the same time. Why did she have to be so bloody stubborn?

Dee, on the other hand, realized – again – that Jack Sparrow acted in the exact same way she would have if he were in his boots. She couldn't deny the feelings deep inside of her any longer. She had crossed the line so many times that she didn't even know where it was anymore. Jack Sparrow had placed her exactly on the border, right between love and hate... She admired him because he showed no fear, he was witty, he was inventive and the way he looked at her was something else entirely. There was just something about him, and that allowed him to find his way into her heart. It was truly ironic how it was due to all of those things that she hated him too... Maybe he hadn't come to gloat, maybe he was sincere and really wanted to help her escape... and here she was just pushing him away – again.

'Friar! Get yer arse back 'ere!' she roared. Oh god, I simply can't fight these damned feelings anymore... Ye're in pain Dee, not only mentally but physically as well. The scar that he gave ye is probly infected, not to mention that ye lost quite a bit o' strength from the beatin' of the guards and Gillette. She felt dirty and unattractive but she wanted him... more than she would ever dare to reveal to anyone.

Jack stopped in his place when she called out to him, and glanced over his shoulder at her. After seeing her face, he turned around and walked back to her and her own private cage again.

'What's up, Duville? 'Ad a change o' heart?'

'Told ye I ain't got a heart, but get me outta here Sparrow. I hate ta admit this, but I'm really not up to beating the shit out of the wigged ones anymore and I'm bound to get hanged in less than one day, so let's make this count. Not only that but me mind's as blank as a babies bottom an' I can't think of one decent plan ta get meself out of his dungeon... also doesn't help me that there ain't any bloody rum around this dungeon.' That's not entirely true Dee, yer mind ain't blank, it's just a little preoccupied lately...

'Well get yer ax an' beat me senseless, the Hellcat finally admits that she may just have a weakness!' he said his voice dripping with sarcasm. And good Lord, she loves rum like I do! I knew I couldn't be the only one to use rum to get the brain ta work.

'Don't push me ye stupid blighter.'

'Evil wench!'

'Pathetic drunk!'

'Slut!'

'Manwhore!'

'Bitch!'

'Moron!'

'Mulish tart!'

'Idiot!'

'Putain!'

'Oh we're startin' French now, are we? Fine! Eunuque!'

'Vous savez pour un fait que je ne suis pas eunuque! Cela est au dessous de la ceinture, gigolette!'

'Below the belt, eh? Votre esprit est-il toujours dans la gouttière?'

'I sure as hell hope so, Nuisance!'

'Pest!'

When no other harassments came to mind, they both fell silent and stared at the other. Both ocean blue and dark brown eyes radiated fire.

Devon was the first to break the weary silence, 'God this turns me on... kiss me Friar.' And without any further delay, she pulled him towards her by the rope that was knotted around his waist.

Jack leaned in and kissed her through the bars, and pulled her as close to him as he could while he tried not to hurt her. Even though she winced as he pulled her closer by her arms, she didn't hold back, and neither did he.

Jack noticed the twitch her body made and promptly stopped. 'What's wrong?'

'Just a few bruises, no big deal... now, where were we?' she crashed her cracked lips onto his again, not caring about the pain it caused her as she explored the cave of his mouth. She ran her tongue along his teeth, playing and teasing with his delicious tongue.

His hands traveled from her arms down her back and stopped on her bum, where he immediately squeezed it. She grinned against his mouth and his hands slid inside the back of her breeches, his hands relishing the ability to investigate new territory. A sly grin formed on his lips as well, 'No knickers, luv?' Devon was now smirking with him. 'Somehow I don't think yer offended by that, Friar. Me guess is that yer even a tad out of place in yer order,' she said hoarsely as she felt his fingers slide between the cleavage of her bum. The sensation made her shiver. No man had ever given her such feelings before. She had encounters with many men, she would bed them and do things no mother would allow her daughter to do, and she had enjoyed every single moment that she spent in ecstasy thoroughly. However, Sparrow was unlike any other man she had ever been with. He knew exactly which buttons to push that would give her agonizing pleasure, and all this without her having to guide him or give him orders. Unfortunately, this meant he also knew which buttons to push to drive her up the wall, to get her raging with anger. And right now she was forced to bite her lip to contain a moan as he let his hands slide around her hips and down the front of her breeches.

'Ye bring out the worst in a man, Duville,' his voice becoming soft and husky, but smooth as velvet.

'All in a days work, preacher man,' and she crushed her lips onto his again, yearning to taste him again – to taste the slight remains of rum, to taste the man that drove her wild. She ran her hands through Sparrow's hair, grazing the back of his neck ever so slightly. She let her hands snake around to the front of his neck, and then slide down his chest. She shoved her hands inside his cloak, practically ripping the fabric. Devon relished the feel of his naked skin beneath her fingertips and allowed her fingers to trace a few of the scars on his chest. She touched his nipples, letting her nails scrape over the tender flesh.

Jack couldn't stop kissing her even if he wanted to. Her full lips were just too tempting and inviting even when they were cracked and sore. And he loved the way her tongue snaked around his; the sensation just drove him mad. He felt her hands barely touching his abdomen as they made their way lower towards his pulsating erection. Her tongue used more force against his as her hand wrapped around his own private mast, and he knew wanted more, he needed more, but this was neither the time nor the place.

'Stop it, Duville, I can barely contain meself if ye keep this up.'

She grinned wickedly, flashing her white teeth, and he caught something glistening on one of her teeth, or at least he thought it was. 'Who said ye needed ta contain yerself, Friar? Why not just live up to the name ye gave yerself here an' now, let it all out. Just whack it out an' show me the goods, that way I won't be disappointed later...'

He shoved her back, her hand still stuck underneath the band of his breeches.

'Need I tell you that no woman that I've ever encountered was disappointed after I was done wit' her?'

She put the index finger of her free hand on his lips, shushing him while she continued teasing him with her other. 'Well Sparrow, ye've never encountered a woman like me, have ye? I'm just makin' sure ye know what yer gettin' yerself into,' she flashed him that smile again and he saw the sparkle in her teeth once more. He couldn't have been imagining it if he saw it twice, right?

Oh but he knew what he was getting himself into all right. He wanted to get into her, and even though he knew that it was going to be more than he bargained for, possibly a very big mistake, he didn't care. He needed to spring her free, so he could ravish her or – rather – let HER ravish him. The vixen knew what she was doing; he had to give her that. Wonder how many men she had... I've had a fair share o' women meself but... Hell, she must've... Ooooooooooooooooooooo she's good!

Devon had started moving her fingers along his erection and he forced himself to focus on their surroundings and his role instead of letting his desire take over. He was to be a Friar, a Friar who just happened to have the hardest boner known to mankind. This had to stop or he would be forced to take her right between the bars. His famous grin twisted around his mouth, because he somehow knew she'd be up for something like that.

He wanted nothing to take him away from this bliss, but the sound of heavy footsteps descending the stairs pulled him away from his perverted fantasy extremely quickly...

Devon backed away as soon as she heard the footsteps as well. She reclaimed her hand and pulled Jack's cloak over his erection in one swift movement, and then let herself fall back onto the hard floor. Jack opened the Bible with a flourish and began reading, even though his voice was still thick from arousal and his hands were slightly trembling. The guards glanced at them and Jack nodded. They nodded back and went up the stairs again. He breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God they had only come to check or there would've been hell to pay.

As soon as Devon heard the footsteps fade, she whispered to him, 'Jack? Toss me my effects, would ye?'

'Which ones are yers, then? ' he said glancing at the huge array of weapons that hung on the wall behind him.

'All of 'em ye blighter!' she retorted rolling her eyes. 'Oh, an' don't ferget the hat, luv.'

'Ye certainly carry a lot of stuff around, Duville.'

'So do you,' she said as she allowed her eye to wander below the cord around his waist, grinning mischievously.

He flashed her a golden smile and passed over her effects. Devon started with her belt – tucking her knives into it and sheathing her cutlass – while she retrieved her dagger and placed in back into her boot and put her throwing stars back in the inside of her vest. She then proceeded to reload her pistols, and Jack was amazed at the speed with which she did all of this. He kept throwing sidelong glances her way, noticing that she was in pain and could see quite a lot of bruises on her arms as well. After she was finished, she tucked her pistols in her belt. 'There, all standing, Sparrow,' she said giving him another pointed look. 'Now get me out.'

He remembered earlier how Will had gotten him out of this cell when he was locked up not so long ago, so he studied the hinges and was stunned to find that they were exactly the same as when he was on the inside trying to get out.

Now he just needed something to use as leverage.

'Have ye tried picking the lock, Duville?' he asked when he could think of nothing useful.

'Yeah I did... An' after I got out, I freshened meself up a bit and then decided to lock meself in again, since I 'ad nothin' better to do anyway!' she said sarcastically. 'With what would I have done that Jack? Me tongue?' she snapped.

'It sure as hell is sharp enough,' he hissed back at her.

'Stop blabberin' Sparrow... just get me out before the wigged ones return.'

Jack's gaze fell upon a bench in front of the far wall and his eyes lit up. He walked over to get it and she watched in amazement when he returned to the front of the cell and used that bench in the same way Will had done a few years back. Once the bars broke free, she held on to them to prevent them from hitting the ground. No need to alert the lobsters just yet.

She carefully leapt over the gate, as Jack held her hand to support her. He pulled her close to him as soon as she reached the other side of the gate that had held her captive. She looked in his eyes and for a brief moment, and soon they both forgot where they were and kissed each other passionately. This time there was different since not only were there feelings of lust in that kiss, but love seemed to be building a small foundation deep inside their assumed black hearts. Naturally, neither of the pirates was willing to acknowledge the truth of their relationship, but it was a start. Eventually it was Devon pulled herself away from the embrace.

Duville pinched Sparrow's behind and whispered, 'Je rembourserai mon gratitude plus tard, à sens unique ou l'autre.' She licked her lips suggestively and Jack felt as though he could burst any second. He pulled her back to him and kissed her as he had never kissed any other woman before.

Devon broke the kiss again, and regained her breath quickly since she knew that they didn't have much more time.

'We're not done 'ere, Sparrow. This is not the time for celebrating, yet. We've gotta find a way ta get out o' here first. Tell me, are ye armed underneath that cloak?'

He rolled his eyes at her sheer stupidity, 'Didn't you just feel that I was armed?' She just had 'er hands all over me, she must have felt the weapons I'm carryin'. What did that tart think, that I just came with the Bible?

'I meant are ye carrying weapons, moron!' she hissed.

'Course I am, what kind o' a fool do ye take me for?'

Devon smirked even more devilishly, 'Ye're just begging for me ta harass ye an' ye don't even know it. Ye are a fool!' she said her voice dripping with sarcasm.

'No time to stay here an' 'ave a battle of wits, Duville. We've got ta get out now!' he said and irritation got the upper hand again, shoving his arousal aside.

Devon grinned when she saw his handsome face frowning. He was getting pissed with her again. Just like she had anticipated. She needed him angry again in order to get them out of here. She knew what he had been thinking about, hell she was sure that she was thinking of most, if not all, of those same indecent things. However, right now he needed a clear mind and the best way to achieve that was to rub him the wrong way. Devon loved seeing the anger in his eyes; she thought that he was even sexier when he was angry, so this type of torture proved to be fun for her as well. Devon knew that she herself possessed enough anger to fight for the both of them, but since she seemed to lack strength at the moment, he would have to do most of the fighting.

Once she saw his dark eyes gleam in a dangerous way, she knew she had accomplished her mission. He would put up one hell of a fight if needed, and she somehow guessed they would definitely need to put up such a fight to get out of this dungeon.

A sly grin formed on Devon's lips, 'Ye could 'ave just let me die and save yerself a lot of trouble... ye are aware of that, are ye not?'

He grinned. 'Ye wouldn't be that much fun dead, Duville. Asides, ye seem ta be forgetting that trouble is me middle name.'

'What a coincidence! That be mine as well,' she retorted with the sly grin still formed on her bruised face.

'Asides that, I'm pretty sure yer ghost would haunt an' torment me fer the rest of me life if I left ye,' Jack said matter-of-factly.

Duville's grin grew even wider as a strange combination of mirth and madness shown on her lips, 'Ye should know that I be pretty good at haunting men while alive also, Sparrow. Now lead on, oh wise one!'