Author's Ramble 7: Out of shear frustration with my paper, I decided to break and write a chapter. My brain is severely cramping. LoL. If I see one more book on the French Revolution within the next hour or so, I will scream! Anyway, on to the writing. I present to you yet another short chapter involving Jack and Dean. We're coming to a close on the voyage quite soon, but will their story end there? Not telling you! MWHAHAHAHA! Guess we'll just have to see.

"We should be reaching Tortuga within a few days, Captain Sparrow," Morel informed Jack as he paced the deck of the ship. "I believe you have repaid me for your deed. The rest of the voyage, you may relax."

Jack ceased mopping immediately. "Much thanks, Captain." He gave a small bow. "I will be of no further trouble in a few days."

"Quite," Morel sighed. "You are dismissed."

Without a second thought, Jack retired to his cabin, ecstatic that he would no longer have to work. He laid in his hammock, thinking over his previous confrontations with Dean. Now that he looked back on it, her hatred of him was fairly justified.

"So I hear you'll be leaving us soon." Dean leaned lazily against the doorframe.

"Looks like it."

"Good riddance," she spat with less venom than expected. She entered the room and sat atop a truck Jack had been using. She rested her back against the wall, closing her eyes and sighing.

He watched her for a few moments. He hadn't really noticed how pretty she actually was. She seemed to have washed away the ship's grime from her hair and skin. The bleached gold of her hair seemed to glow white hot in the flickering light of the candles in the room, most likely blinding in the light of the sun. Her sun kissed complexion seemed warm and enticing as opposed to its usual course and disgusting appearance. Her figure had fully blossomed since their last meeting on the hill in above the port of Nassau. Quite a tempting specimen to any male on looker who happened to be unaware of defensive abilities, and even some of the aware.

"I'm sorry," Jack whispered.

Dean looked up at him, dumbfounded by his sudden apology. "Excuse me?"

"I'm sorry, Constance." Jack looked away from her, fighting to keep the naughty ideas out his mind in order to seem sincere.

She was silent for a moment, eyes locked on his face. "I forgive you."

It was his turned to look up, completely blindsided. Had she just forgiven him? Had it been that easy all along? Constance's lips broke into a warm smile, seeming to brighten her expression. She rose from her place and strode toward him.

The world seemed to move in slow motion, as if it were a dream. Dean stood over him, the glow from the candles silhouetting her figure. She bent over him, her surprisingly soft lips brushing against his dry skin. The next moment his lips were on his in a passionate kiss. The world stopped. She pulled away slowly, staring into his eyes.

"Jack," she cooed. Jack groaned in response.

"Wake up, Jack Sparrow." Her voice was becoming louder and more demanding.

"I am awake," he mumbled absently.

"SPARROW! GET YOUR MANGY ASS UP OUT OF THAT HAMMOCK!" Her commanding voice rang in his ears like the bell announcing the change of shift.

Jack fell to the floor of his cabin. Dean stood menacingly over him, tapping her foot inches from his face. He sat up, rubbing the pain from his side.

"About time, Sparrow! Get up off the floor! There's work to be done!"

She dropped a rag on the top of aching head and disappeared from sight. Jack removed the damp cloth from his head and started at the doorway. It was all a dream?