A/N: Okay, I am nuts giving you guys three chapters in one day, aren't I. I just couldn't help myself- I needed to walk away from the computer knowing that I left you guys with a good amount of words to read. The chapters, for whatever reason, are getting too short for my own liking, so... Why not upload a bunch and see what happens?

~D/P

Chapter XII

A Life for a Life

"What the hell was that, Reaver?" Sparrow demanded once her feet were back on the ground. Her face was still red, but with more anger than embarrassment.

"Sparrow, dear-"

"I thought I told you not to call me that anymore!"

"Alright, then, Sparrow… Be rational for a moment, will you? Just listen to me!"

"You have thirty seconds, Reaver, and no longer. Explain."

"To put it simply, you decided to take a nap and wouldn't wake up when those bandits decided to find a way into the tunnels. So I moved some of the unused tables and such to block them. You, my dear wouldn't wake up, so I had no other choice. Unless you wanted to be left for dead."

All of Sparrow's anger flew out the metaphorical window, leaving her face almost glowing red with embarrassment and her eyes almost apologetic.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid Sparrow!

"So… you… saved… me?" she asked slowly. "But you-! You're… you're… you're you!"

"My Sparrow, I seem to be on your mind quite a lot," Reaver said, grinning.

If her face could get any redder, it would have. Sparrow looked away from the pirate, wishing her heart would stop pounding.

"Damn you," she whispered, too low for Reaver to hear.

Sparrow sighed and finally began to notice where she had ended up. It was near where the tunnel had been blocked, so if the bandits found a way back to them, they'd have to fight with their backs to the wall. They got past one bookshelf. They could probably get past another.

"Hold on."

Sparrow's voice almost echoed in the empty, silent caves. She turned back to Reaver.

"You blocked the way so the bandits couldn't get to us?"

Reaver nodded.

"You…? Reaver, let's face facts here. You have skill, not strength. There's no way…"

Sparrow's voice trailed off and she shook her head.

"My dear, don't underestimate me," Reaver said, laughing. Sparrow's response was a small glare and walking away from him, though she had no real place to go. "Why don't you make yourself useful and start one of those lovely fires of yours, Sparrow."

Without much choice, she agreed with him, watching in surprise as he helped her blast apart a mine cart to get the wood. Once they had a decent pile in the middle of the stone floor, she tried to light a fire in the palm of her hand. Only a few red sparks came, so she tried again. The results were the same, much to her disappointment.

Reaver helping me and my will fading. The world's going to hell, she thought.

With the help of some left-over gun powder, Sparrow lit the fire at the cost of burning her hand once more. She now sat across from Reaver, examining her burns. They stung when she touched them, but they didn't break open and bleed, much to her relief. What did concern her, though, was the way Reaver continued to look at her. It made her feel like a rabbit in the presence of a starving wolf.

"Would you stop that?" Sparrow snapped after a few minutes.

"Am I doing something wrong, Sparrow dear?"

Again with that name. She was ready to let him have it all over again, but she kept her calm. Yelling wouldn't help anything.

"You just keep staring. It's creepy," she told him. "And must I tell you again that I am 'Sparrow', not 'Sparrow dear'?"

Reaver kept quiet, and his silence made a small grin creep onto her face. It wasn't often she could make him speechless, and he didn't stay that way for long.

"You should smile more often, Sparrow."

The world had to have gone to hell outside. That, or Sparrow had died and was in hell now, and this was some kind of sick, twisted vision.

Reaver said something that didn't make her embarrassed or angry, and he sounded almost… sincere. And without complementing himself. Sparrow's grin only grew, and she looked happy for once.

It all faded away too quickly, for Sparrow had reminded herself who she was with.

Cold air descended on the cave like snow, and the fire had become nothing more than a pile of red coals. Sparrow, having only a thin shirt with torn sleeves, a well-worn pair of pants, and leather boots on, began to shiver.

Reaver watched her, and felt the slightest twinge of pity for her. She wasn't herself since she woke up from that coma… that he knew he had put her into. As much as he wished it weren't true, in the back of his mind, a cold voice spoke the truth. He was the cause of her misfortune.

Bloody hell. I'm getting soft because of this girl. Why does she even stay here? She hates me, and she has more than enough ways of buying whatever other house she likes!

Reaver slowly rose to his feet, but Sparrow continued to watch the dying fire, unaware of him.

I hate myself already for this, and I haven't even done it.

Sparrow could almost feel Reaver standing over her, but she didn't bother to look up. Only when she felt him sit down on the hard ground next to her and pull her toward him did she look up at him.

His expression hadn't changed, and he seemed to be avoiding her gaze. Sparrow wondered what he was trying to do, but didn't for long. She just accepted what had happened and allowed Reaver to keep her warm.

Sparrow looked back at the fire and shifted slightly on the cold ground, resting her head on the pirate's chest. Her blue eyes closed, and a smile formed on her lips.

"How do we get ourselves into these situations?" Sparrow asked quietly, opening her eyes again. Reaver looked down at her and started to say something, but his voice was cut off by the sound of shattering wood and footsteps.

The pair stood, acting quickly.

"Reaver, there's something I have to tell you now," Sparrow whispered, staring dead ahead. "I've thought about it, and I know what that shadow did to me."

Shadows formed on the walls of the caverns.

"Do tell, before we have to fight these bastards again."

"That's just it. I can't."

Reaver looked at Sparrow.

"Reaver, that damned shadow made me normal. I can't focus my will, I can't shoot, and I bet I can't even lift my cleaver anymore. I'm not a hero… I'm just some girl now!"

The bandits were in sight now, and closing in fast. There seemed to be more of them now. Reaver drew his cutlass and looked from the bandits to Sparrow. Her blue eyes, now almost a dull gray, glittered with questions that had no answers.

With his cutlass in one hand, he drew his Dragonstomper .48 and handed it to Sparrow, who took it, but with a bit of shock.

"Get up on a ledge. Shoot when you can," he instructed. Sparrow nodded, gripping the gun tightly. She lingered for a moment, searching for something to say in her mind as Reaver turned his attention to the oncoming bandits.

"Good luck," she whispered to Reaver. "And…"

"…Just don't die."

Sparrow made her decision quickly, but it was the one thing she didn't regret. When Reaver looked back at her, grinning, she grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and kissed him before fleeing to one of the high ledges.

The bandits attacked Reaver one by one, while the others either waited their turn or looked for a way up to fight Sparrow. The pirate fought surprisingly well with the cutlass, cutting down one of the bandits in a matter of seconds. He cursed when one of them pulled a gun on him, but the bullet only hit his sword and bounced off. Every few minutes, he looked back up at Sparrow to make sure she was alright. She nodded back to him when he did with a grave smile on her lips.

Sparrow watched Reaver closely, and even with her hate of guns, she was ready to shoot. Just because she never used one didn't mean she wasn't taught. The number of dead bandits slowly grew, and she thanked Avo that Reaver hadn't been hit yet. Though he looked like he was getting tired. Sparrow narrowed her eyes and continued to watch, but her hand adjusted so her finger was on the trigger of the gun.

With their numbers down to three, Sparrow could see that they were going to fight dirty. One of the bandits, whom Sparrow guessed to be the leader of them all, walked slowly behind Reaver, escaping his detection. She could see there was a pistol in his hand- and he had it pointed at Reaver's back.

Sparrow tried to focus on him, but she couldn't. He was almost below her, though. She could jump down and…

Might as well go out with a bang, Sparrow decided. She readied the Dragonstomper .48 and leapt from the ledge.

The six gunshots sounded like a clap of thunder on the shore of Bloodstone. A deathly silence filled the cavern after a second shot was fired. The bandit captain fell to the ground, blood trickling from the shots he took to the head and chest.

Sparrow let the gun fall from her hand and hit the ground as the last bandit Reaver fought fell as well. One hand shook from the shock of firing a gun, while the other covered the center of Sparrow's chest. She closed her eyes and tried to steady her breathing, while Reaver turned to see what had happened.

He saw the body of a dead bandit, Sparrow, and his gun. When Sparrow turned to look at him, he saw the blood flowing from under her hand pressed to her chest. She opened her eyes, and he saw fear in them. Pure fear, and nothing but. He realized why.

She had taken a bullet for him, saving his life and dooming herself in the process. Her breathing grew rapid and short, and she removed her hand so he could see the full extent of her wound.

The bullet had hit her square in the chest, leaving nothing but a small hole that meant death for any normal person. If Sparrow was right…

…I was shot in the heart and fell from Castle Fairfax. I lived. Lord Lucian shot me in the head. I lived through that, too.

She couldn't die now.

"Reaver?" Sparrow whispered.

"Yes…?"

"I think I'm gonna fall."

As she spoke, Sparrow's legs failed and she fell, only to be caught by the pirate. He felt her shaking from pure shock, and he didn't know what to do.

"This is the second time you've done this to me, Sparrow dear," he said, trying to keep calm.

"Last time… I promise you," Sparrow told him, grinning despite the hole in her chest.

"It'd better not be, you idiot."

"I'm no idiot… Just used to being a hero, that's all. Too used to living from gun wounds, too, I guess."

"That, my dear, I have to say is a bad habit."

"I know… It's not the first time you've saved my sorry ass, though. So. I guess it's a life for a life."

(Say it with me now- c-l-i-f-f-h-a-n-g-e-r! Cliffhanger! ...I am so dead for doing this.)