((The enthusiastic reviews are so delightful so I can't help but cater to y'all. Thank you-I guess I can't stop saying thank you after all. Hey, do y'all have any requests for more "face time" of other canon, or non-canon, characters? I feel like I should be more inclusive of your interests.))

"Miss Davenport." James was at a loss of words, something that didn't happen all too often. But finding himself staring at the gentry woman, for whom he'd developed a certain attachment for, threatening him with a standard issue naval pistol was most assuredly enough to render him speechless. He honestly had not an inkling of what to think, or assume, beyond surprise and utter confusion. "Please be careful and set aside that pistol. There is no need for such rash behavior." When the pistol remained unwaveringly pointed in his direction James moved to stand. It was then that Miss Davenport cocked the hammer and settled herself into a firmer stance. James held up his hands and remained seated, wondering where it was that the lady learned to use a firearm and what exactly he'd said or done that would drive her to such desperation now. "I feel I must insist upon your setting aside that pistol. You are overwhelmed right now, Miss Davenport, and this impulsive action is not going to factor well into the decision for your future. Please take a moment and think fully of what the consequences of this moment will be if you continue in such a fashion."

Miss Davenport's lips fell into a deep frown and in her eyes he recognized an immense sadness, "You really believe what you see don't you?" James tipped his head to the side, curious that this would be her response to his pleas. "Never grey and always black or white, appearances are everything, unbending at all costs, are you really satisfied with such a character? You condemn my brother and I for dragging an unwaveringly dedicated British officer into ruin and yet you refuse to see your own part in his ruination. It is always the 'other' for you is it not?"

"I really don't see-"

"That is correct, Commodore, you don't see. You never have. At any time where you almost glimpsed something true, something worthy, you have trod it into the mud with your damned principles."

"Miss Davenport!" James stood this time but did not move around the desk, the hardening of her gaze kept him rooted to his spot. "Now is not the time to pass judgment on my character. A murder has been committed, a British officer has defied orders, and you are currently holding Port Royal's Commodore at gunpoint. If you had wished to argue character flaws with me perhaps you should have finished our tete a tete last night instead of running away." He watched her grip tighten momentarily on the pistol's handle but thankfully she did not move her finger any closer to the trigger. "Now I may be willing to overlook a portion of this mishap and see all of this," he gestured towards the weapon, "as a misunderstanding of sorts if you hand over your pistol now."

Miss Davenport stared at him a moment longer in silence before she stepped back, pistol still raised, and turned her attention towards Groves, "Please move these chairs so that they are back to back and pull down the sashes from those curtains over there."

James looked more closely at his lieutenant, trying to detect any signs that the man had known this would happen or if he was working with her. All he could discern from Groves was what looked like disappointment and apprehension, if the way the man rose slowly and held out his hands in a placating manner towards Miss Davenport could be trusted.

"You don't have to do this," Groves moved the chairs slowly as he spoke, complying with her demands but also attempting to reason with her as he did so, "there are other ways of solving this. Why put yourself into danger like this, risking everything you've worked to achieve?"

"Don't fight me Theodore." James frowned at the way Miss Davenport spoke Groves' name but remained where he was, as Miss Davenport kept a steady eye on both he and Groves. "There is more at stake here than just my life. This needs to end or else it'll only get worse, surely you understand that. We can't keep lying to ourselves thinking everything will work out for the better when there are never such guarantees, especially not for someone like me."

Groves shook his head as moved towards the curtains, "But this? You can't go back from something like this. Hasn't enough blood been shed already? Enough misunderstandings and duplicity? Why can't you just-"

"Theodore." Miss Davenport growled out Groves' name in a fashion the surprised him nearly as much as when he'd first seen the gun. "I don't need a lecture right now. Once this is all settled and we all survive intact you can sit down with me and discuss the merits of honesty and transparency but right now just get the bloody sashes."

While James appreciated Groves' efforts to reason with the woman, from his words it sounded as if he knew more about the motives of the Davenport's than James did. It was true that supposedly they had an old acquaintance but was that enough to explain away this familiarity? As Groves returned to the chairs with the curtain sashes in hand James felt his gut tighten in jealousy. Could it be that Groves had a much deeper connection to Miss Davenport than either had alluded to? Could it be that Groves had pursued Miss Davenport to the point of becoming his paramour? So far from home and isolated from his wife as he was, well he would not be the first officer to commit such an act. Indeed, James knew of at least half a dozen officers under his own command who engaged in such activities.

"Commodore," Miss Davenport brought his dark thoughts back to the present, "if you would be kind enough. I really don't want to have to use this on you or any of your officers. Please know that my father taught me much about firearms and I am faster than many a man at reloading and deadly accurate."

James moved around the edge of his desk and, keeping his eyes on Miss Davenport and her pistol, sat down. She gestured to Groves and James watched as the man moved forward and knelt in front of him. Hesitating a moment he looked up at James, an apologetic frown crossing his features. James nodded his understanding and leaned back. He did not want to endanger Groves, his officers, or even Miss Davenport herself. For as desperate as she seemed be, for whatever reason he did not doubt that she would use the weapon if forced to and should his men hear her firing they would undoubtedly fire upon her without question.

"Miss Davenport, I really don't see why this is necessary." James kept his gaze on the woman while Groves set about tying his hands and feet to the chair. He noted that while Groves made the knots firm he also made them loose enough to be undone with enough coercion. "I know you must love your brother immensely to be so willing to do this in order to cover up for his crime but please stop and remember exactly what he's done. A man is dead, your brother is a murderer. Yes he may still be your brother but is a blood relation of higher might than the law?"

Groves finished and moved around to sit on his own chair, his back brushing against James'. Miss Davenport moved out of sight spoke up once she was out of view, "I fear now more than ever that you will nay understand the reasons for these events. What may appear as a damnable offense to ye is justifiable to any who have family, loved ones they desire to see happy and healthy." He felt her tying Groves to the chair through the shifting of the man's body against his own. "Of yer own volition ye have isolated yerself from any sense of familial ties, not allowed yerself to truly love. Ye may understand loyalty but only so far as the navy will let ye. Loyalty to the king and country, to a person-less entity that embodies yer highest ideals and expectations is preferable and understandable to ye. But not so any form of loyalty amongst friends, loved ones, or family."

James felt bile rise in his throat. He should not be the one to feel condemned here, she should. He was not the one under question, she was. Yet here he sat, condemned, tied to a chair, with the smallest smidgen of doubt in his own principles blossoming into a fledgling field of confusion.

Miss Davenport came around to face him again, the pistol hidden back in her valise. She stared down at him for a quiet moment before she knelt and made herself eye level. He jerked when she suddenly reached out and laid a balmy hand against his cheek. He saw tear-stains on her cheeks, remnants of those she must've when she'd been tying Groves. James resisted the urge to lean more heavily into her touch; it had been some time, aside from these past few days with her, that he'd been touched in such a way. It was a pleasurable pain that vibrated out from where her skin near melted into his own. He was repelled just as much as he was drawn to it. James was thankful when she spoke up again, diverting his attention from the physical and internal sensations and back to practical matters.

"But," her hand traced down the length of his jawline then moved to cup the back of his neck, "I would nay love ye as much if ye were any different than what ye are."

"What-"

James' question died when she leaned forward and sealed her lips against his own. The kiss began with an intensity that robbed him of what little sense he'd had left. All he could think about now was the way her fingers tangled into his hair, her other hand coming up to cup the other side of his face and forcibly tip his head to the side just enough so she could deepen the kiss. Her lips were firm and insistent and still before comprehensible thought caught up to him he felt her tongue press inside his mouth, brushing against his own. There was something vaguely familiar about her touch, her taste, as if he'd experienced it before, and not just in dreams.

James allowed himself to confusedly enjoy the pleasurable motions of the kiss a moment longer. Then his logic caught up with his body and he jerked his head back, knocking it into Groves'. Surprise did not come close to the sensation that jolted through his body at the memory of her very clear accent moments prior and the distant memory of her kiss settling once more in the forefront of his mind. All the conversations they'd traded, the lingering glances and the immediate attraction, the disputes and her own defense...James realized with nauseating clarity who she was.

"Ashlynne." Her name was drawn from him like a spell and he found himself unable to move under the power of her gaze.

Ashlynne found it hard to breathe when James breathed out her name like a blessed curse. She nodded and released her hold of his neck in order to brush it against her cheeks, fresh tears had found their way down her cheeks unbidden. Thus far James looked equally confused and amazed, the hatred and bitterness had not yet caught up with him it seemed. She plunged forward with her plan then, not wanting to waste another moment-as is, she hadn't meant to kiss him and reveal herself in quite that fashion but she'd impulsively given into her desires and now she'd try to salvage what she could if she could.

"Aye, tis me." She rocked back on her heels just enough to reach down and pull the pendant out for him to see. "All those years ago I came for this pendant in order to take it back to Scotland to save my family. What I told ye earlier was true, the Forester's also wanted this pendant and they tried to kill me in order to get it from me. Their deaths happened in self-defense." She watched as the darkness of their past began to descend and hurriedly continued. "I was too late in gettin' back and only myself and my sister and cousin remain of what was once a large Fitzgerald clan. We fled to Tortuga and set up a simple enough, legitimate lifestyle there as merchants. My friend Parlan and I returned here only with the intention of procurin' a dagger in order to cut the pendant from me. They are both enchanted ye see, and as long as I wear this I-"

"How dare you." James' growl interrupted her explanation. "How dare you come back from the dead only to cause the deaths of more." Ashlynne sucked in a breath but James kept on, his voice like steel and holding her captive. "Your friend murdered an innocent man and you have basically killed this man, your supposed friend, with your lies and greed." He leaned forward until his body could move no further because of his bindings, "Did you take pleasure in toying with me as well, pirate? Did it serve your lust for vengeance well enough to slate your twisted desires?" His eyes were hard and his lips were drawn into a near snarl.

She leaned back further on her heels and despite her efforts felt more warm tears trail down her cheeks as a result of his words. Ashlynne had thought she'd be able to face down his accusations but now found that what she may have convinced her mind of did not always follow through with her heart. Each successive insinuating assumption dug further into her heart the reality that no matter how much she loved him, James would forever be out of her reach so long as his principles and her past hung between them.

"You're a thief, a liar, a cheat, and a pirate. You may have convinced yourself that the end has and will justify the means but the plain and simple truth is that you have broken many laws and will eventually pay for your crimes." At this James' eyes softened only marginally and he leaned back again. "You cannot defy the law and get away with it."

Ashlynne swallowed past the lump in her throat and nodded, "I ken fully what punishments my crimes demand; I've nay done a thing without these things hangin' about my neck like an albatross. But I can ne'er be accused of toyin' with ye though," James turned his head to avoid eye contact, "I ken ye most likely will nay believe me but everything I have ever spoken to ye of my heart has been truth. I loved ye, James," without meaning to, most likely, James looked back at her at the mentioning of his name, "and I love ye still. Damned though I may be in yer eyes now, and forevermore, I will nay stop lovin' ye." She waited a moment longer before she stood to her full height again. "This will be farewell then. Hasty pursuit would be unwise, where I'm goin' ye would surely nay survive. Ye'd damn yerself to destruction for certain."

She took one last look at him, memorizing once more his tortured visage, before she turned and started towards the door.

"Ashlynne don't do this." Theodore pleaded and she could hear him, or James, rustling in the chair behind her almost as soon as she turned away. "Reconsider your actions."

She was almost to the door when she heard James cry out, "Guard!"

Ashlynne looked over her shoulder at James, terror and amazement mixed on her face. That he had called out for his guard was as surprising as it was expected for her. To have hoped that he'd have seen reason, that he'd have changed over the years and allowed her some respite from the past he damned her fore had been foolhardy indeed. She took note of a hint of regret that crossed his features once the door behind her opened, most likely he realized that by doing the "right" thing he was further condemning her. Denying it as much as he wanted, Ashlynne was not completely blind to his affinity for her. He hated himself for it, that much was also certain, but he did still gravitate towards her, if his interest in her as Miss Davenport could be used as evidence for that.

Setting aside such petty-well at least at this time petty-thoughts, Ashlynne turned back towards the door just in time to take hold of the musket from the unsuspecting guard who'd since opened it and stepped through. She quickly brought the butt of the musket up into his chin, knocking his head back with a painful thud, then twirled and used it to swipe the man's feet out from under him. With him on the ground she dropped the musket, kicked aside the man's legs, then closed and bolted the door, only pausing to pull the man's body back in front of the door to use as added weight against it.

"There's no other way to escape." James spoke up from his chair, his voice tense and his gaze once more hardened against her-the moment of regret wiped clean no doubt when he'd watched her knock his guard unconscious. "Surrender now and I will ensure your safe arrest."

Ashlynne snorted and moved past the pair of men to the window to the left of them, opening the shutters to peer out. It overlooked the parade ground of the barracks, the window some ten feet above the ground; there would be no way for her to leap to safety as well as bolt through the open space and on to safety without alerting the other soldiers to the situation. She ground her teeth together as she quickly pushed the shutters shut and turned towards the other window.

"Why are you so insistent upon destroying yourself?" James' question had her pausing in her tracks as she began towards the opposite window. "Your greed brought you to this moment and now, when you have the chance for a peaceable surrender, you insist upon throwing that offer back into my face."

"Well, James," she watched as he winced slightly at the sound of his name, "yer offer is useless to me. I have no intention of surrenderin' because this is nay where my tale ends." Ashlynne moved away from him and opened the shutters of the other window; this window overlooked a much further drop, perhaps twenty feet. It was a steep slope covered in lush greenery that quickly fell away down to a cobbled alleyway. "I have a curse to break and a life to live in which I have a sister to protect and a cousin to marry off. Aye, dearest James, I have every intention of livin' through this day. Surrenderin' to you would only spell my defeat and I donna like defeat." She spoke over her shoulder, assessing the the fall she would have to take.

Directly below the window were stiff reeds and not much further hardened ferns with spikes that could be used for impalement. No doubt she would break bones if she attempted to jump straight down. However, if she angled for a further jump, making it impossible to land reasonably on her feet but allowing her to land on the softer ferns, she could stave off breakage but ensure cuts and perhaps internal damage. With the pendant, she wasn't worried about death, but from experience she knew that it still hurt.

"You won't survive the fall." His voice sounded dead behind her and she glanced back to see him staring past her out to the harbor. "It's too far." His eyes moved from where they'd wandered into the abysmal nothing and sought hers out. "Surrender and set me free."

Ashlynne suddenly moved back to kneel in front of him. She leaned close and pressed her lips just beneath his ear, feeling the warmth of his breath as it brushed against the sensitive skin of her neck. He stiffened from her ministrations but didn't move away.

"Yer the only one who can do that, James." She whispered before pulling back enough to look into his eyes. "Ye just have to stop bein' an arse long enough to give life a try."

There were hurried footsteps outside the door, and the guard at the foot of it began to stir. Ashlynne reached across James' shoulder and squeezed Theodore's, not having the time or words to fully express her appreciation of his help. The soldiers outside the door began to call for James, who kept his eyes on Ashlynne, and when he didn't answer they began to crash against it, the door shuddering every other moment from their efforts.

Bracing herself against the inevitable pain, Ashlynne took a deep breath then leapt to her feet and bolted towards the window. With nary a hesitation, even when she imagined that she heard James call her name, she raised her skirts, scaled the windowsill, and then threw herself as far out into the air as the thrust of her legs could manage.