Disclaimer: I only own Dulcinea… but I must admit I wouldn't mind owning Jack! (Who wouldn't?)

So sorry for the delay in an update… the Document Manager has been giving me trouble for days now. Thank you so much for the reviews… if you're reading my story and have an opinion on it, I would love to hear it!

The first few days she was scared to move, so she stayed hidden beneath the dusty tarps of an unused lifeboat. Though her belly was riddled with hunger she dared not move a muscle during the light of day while the men roamed about the deck, repairing parts of the ship that had been damaged along their trying journey.

For three days, the ship was berthed, and for three unbearable days Dulcinea stayed hidden beneath her sanctuary, praying that the death she had staged was enough to keep them all from searching for her. On the fourth day, as the sun climbed steadily in a cloudless sky, the ship departed. Dulcinea was hot, sticky and weak, yet she found the strength to peek out at Spain fade away, the country she was so eager to leave behind…

Capítulo Dos

Dulcinea watched him as he sat, and she felt a strong aching in her heart for what used to be. She had known he was going to come to her. It had been written in the stars.

"How dare you ask me for help when you left me in that cold, cramped, dank cell?" she asked, furious. Jack ran his fingers over the smoothness of the ball, and she stomped over and slapped his hand. "Don't touch that!" she commanded, knowing that he would break it within a few minutes. Crystal balls were expensive and hard to come by.

"My apologies, love," Jack said, sending her an offset look. "And what do you mean I left you in a cell… YOU left me. You abandoned me. You betrayed me."

Dulcinea immediately pointed a finger in his face. "How can you accuse me of such a thing? I was set up!" Jack absently stroked the multicolored beads that adorned his hair. "Set up, ay?" "YES. SET UP."

She sat down and crossed her arms, irritated that he could think such a thing. But she supposed it was just part of the job description. Trust not. Never. Despite any circumstance. Even love.

Jack yawned and stretched out all four of his limbs. "Well, instead of sit here and accusing each other of crimes and injustices of the past, I do believe we should grab a bite to eat. What do you say?"

Dulce sighed within herself. She was not usually one to give up so easy, and yet this was Captain Jack Sparrow. Within a moment she had grabbed a peasant dress and turned her back away from the estranged pirate. "Do you mind a bit of privacy?" she asked, lifting her top and tossing it to the floor, looking over her bare shoulder suggestively at the pirate. His eyes traced her curvy form, and she cleared her throat impatiently. As if being roused from a spell, Jack blinked and rose, heading to the door. "I'll – I'll be waiting outside," he stuttered, and backed into her small, covered table. The crystal ball immediately rolled off of its ornately carved stand, and crashed to the floor. It rolled a short distance before rushing into a wall at top speed, and bounced off violently. Jack froze, sauntered over to it and picked it up. A damaging crack ran from the surface deep within.

"I am so terribly, deeply sorry," Jack muttered, unsure of what to do with the broken ball, so he placed it back on the stand and hurried out of the room. Dulcinea sighed deeply and continued to change. Nothing about her pirate had changed at all. Absolutely nothing!

A short time later, she covered her arms with a blood red shawl that she had sewn herself, and stepped outside the door to greet Jack while he awaited her outside the door.

She gave him a coy look and smiled painfully. "I do believe you owe me a crystal ball," she said, only half-teasing. He smiled back. "I believe I could also give you a meal, while you listen to my proposition, savvy?" She nodded, then pulled the shawl tighter over her shoulders as they made their way out into the cool, island air.

Jack couldn't help but eye the beautiful gypsy as she sat down at the table across from him, sipping at a mug of frothy grog. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and stared back at him before speaking. "So what is this 'proposition' that you are planning on proposing?" She was still undeniably beautiful, he had come to realize, only her curves had become much more pronounced. She was a real woman now. Beautiful… and feisty. Jack figured he might as well put everything on the table. He had nothing to lose. "I need you to come with me."

"Go with you…" she repeated. "Go where?"

Jack downed some rum and slammed his glass back on the table. "Isla de Formentera," he said, twiddling his thumbs.

Dulce's eyes instantly darkened. "I am never going back to Spain," she protested. "I will not go."

Jack ignored her testament, and pulled a wrinkled map out of his pocket. Spread across the table was a map of Spain, and the tiny island of Formentera in the Mediterranean Sea. It pained Dulcinea to even glance over it, and she looked away.

"Deep in the heart of the island lays a famous treasure. One with enough wealth to make us both filthy rich, forever. Do you know what I'm talking about?"

The gypsy was quiet. Did she ever.

Jack continued on despite her silence, his voice hushed underneath the loud ruckus of the other patrons.

"Hundreds of years ago, Spain was under invasion. The King was in trouble. He knew if anyone got a hold of his wealth that his power would slip from his fingers like sand in a sieve." He paused to take another drink. "Legend has it that he hid every last bit that he owned and tucked it all away on a tiny island in a cave deep beneath the ground, in the famed Cavern of Light. He had a powerful sorceress place a spell on this cavern, so that no one at all could find it, because he knew in his heart that he would be murdered in cold blood, and he was right. Every hundred years after his death the location of the cavern shifts magically underneath the island, buried deep within. I have reason to believe I know where it is now."

Jack's dark eyes shone with wonder as he told the tale that the gypsy already knew. That she had been raised on. His fervor was not one to convince her.

"What you have neglected to inform me is of the curse on the Cavern itself. Yes, it shifts every hundred years, but there is something else. Only a direct descendent from the King himself or the sorceress can counteract the spell. And only then will the cavern itself be accessible for one hundred days. After the one hundred days, the cavern will be closed forever, and who ever is trapped inside will suffer terrible consequences… those that are too vile to even imagine."

She glanced down at the map again and gently traced the outside of the island itself.

"So you 'ave 'eard of it!" Jack exclaimed sprightly, ordering up another round of drinks.

Dulcinea's thoughts had wandered and she was now trapped in a foggy haze. One night she was dancing to get enough food to survive on, and she now had a chance to get away and get back on the sea... back to freedom. But now her thoughts had wandered back to Spain. She had swore to herself she would never return. She decided she would keep her allegiance.

She broke off the crust of her bread and dipped it into her soup thoughtfully. "I'm not going back," she repeated to the pirate sitting across from her, who was eager to begin a quest for the impossible.

Jack leaned forward in his seat and stared the gypsy down. She was going if he had anything to do with it. And he had a lot to do with it, indeed.