I'm sorry this chapter took longer than I expected! School's just started up for me again and I foolishly scheduled myself 8 am classes everyday. . I'm still adjusting but as a result I'll actually have time to keep updating this. I'm going to aim for updates every Sunday at the latest so we'll see how that works! A MASSIVE thanks to everyone who favorited/alerted/reviewed. Y'all are not only awesome, but the only reason this chapter got done at all. I tip my hat to you! Again, I am my beta and these eyes get tired. I apologize for any imperfections and will fix any that are pointed out. If the spirit moves you, please review even if it's just to say "Oi, I can't stop reading Reaver's dialogue with Stephen Fry's voice!" because I can't either.

Serendipity's tears: Here's the answer to your question! ;)

Alise: I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter! I love that line too! It cracked me up while I was writing.

this is REAVAH: I am too! I have absolutely no plan for this story so I'm as interested in seein how it'll end as you! =)

CrazyChica17: Thanks! =)

Disclaimer: Oh hai, yeah, Lionhead Studios owns Reaver and Sparrow's physical forms. But according to this wrapper a homeless man I met in Atlanta gave me, I got the rights to the personalities they display in this work of fan fiction. It also says New Look, Same Great Taste! XD

Clenching his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut, Alex braced himself for the shot, but it never came. He cracked open one eyelid to see the man angrily pulling at the trigger three more times with no affect. Click, click, click. He opened the barrel and cursed; the gun was empty.

"Damn you, you meddling bitch!" Reaver stuffed the gun back into its holster. When had she stolen his ammunition? "You are lucky, very lucky that she has no regard for other people's property!" Reaver realized he was now screaming at Sparrow. It didn't seem to affect the heroine much. Her head was resting on his shoulder and she was breathing steadily. Blasted woman had fallen asleep, and she looked damned cute too. Reaver spun, easily dumping Sparrow over his shoulder, and stomped out of the tavern. It had been a very bad plan to return to her side, a very bad plan indeed.

He shivered in the night air as a chill wind blew through the empty streets, howling as it twisted down alleys and past shuttered windows. It was bitterly cold for a spring night which did nothing to alleviate his temper. He stomped through the cobblestone streets, Sparrow flung over one shoulder, as he hunted for her house. Reaver and the heroine were of the same build, tall and wiry. She was lighter than he had expected (the woman carried an arsenal on her) but the sooner he could deposit her in her house the better. He knew it was in Old Town near the gardens, but his last visit to Bowerstone had been quite some time ago and the pirate had not spent any time in the quaint district. Sparrow had vaguely pointed out where her house was, as they passed through the district on their way to the Cow and Corset, earlier that evening. Reaver veered right, navigating the night crowd with an air of superiority, and passed house after house until he came to a little garden area that was illuminated by streetlamps.

The view was breathtaking. All of Bowerstone was laid out before him; Castle Fairfax rose majestically out of a sea of candle light. Reaver paused to take it in, the city had grown much in the last hundred years, but this moment of peace was ruined by a sudden pounding on his back.

"Putdownme!" Sparrow's words came out all jumbled together. "medownput, downputme!" the hero added an extra punch to make sure her carrier got the message because her words sounded backwards.

"Ah!" Reaver cried out, the entire situation was uncomfortable; he was going to be bruised up and down in the morning with nothing to reminisce about. Reaver let Sparrow fall, taking only minimal pleasure in her vicious swearing when her butt collided with the cobblestones. "What are you doing awake?" He asked.

Sparrow was having trouble getting up. Her mouth was dry as paper, her head ached, and her words were coming out all slurred together. She immediately assumed that Reaver must have done something (probably to her drink) because the last thing she could truly remember was arriving at the bar after yelling at Reaver not to use her tab. The hero managed to

"What," she took a moment to ensure that her words didn't run together and to clear her thoughts. "Have you done to me?" she looked up at Reaver, glaring. She couldn't keep up the glare as a wave of dizziness over took her. Sparrow clenched her eyes shut and laid back on the cobblestone road. She was trying desperately to hold onto the contents of her stomach.

"Oooh." She moaned followed by a series of curses that were so brutalized by her uncooperative tongue they hardly distinguishable from her nauseated moaning.

"Why I defended your honor, Hero. I was then attempting to get you home, but all of these bloody houses look the same. Also your directions were about as useful as Theresa's."

Sparrow raised one hand to her forehead, an all too familiar gesture, "Shuddup! My'ouse is right there." She pointed with her free hand at a modest two story house that stood alone just off of the garden.

Reaver turned, surprised, to look at the house. It was situated right next to the garden and though he could see only a little of it in the light of the streetlamps, he thought it looked downright charming. It was certainly not to his taste and completely unexpected of house of someone like Sparrow. The pirate returned his attention to the woman, now sitting grumpily on the ground, and offered her his hand.

"My lady."

Sparrow looked at the hand suspiciously. "I'd rather crawl."

"Then by all means, Hero, lead the way."

Sparrow staggered to her feet. There was no way that she was going to accept help from the man who put her in this state in the first place. "Go on, laugh it up." She managed a few steps on her own before her legs decided walking straight was too useful. For the third time that week, Sparrow found herself in Reaver's arms.

Reaver caught her just as her legs gave out, "Of course, but I'd never take advantage of a woman who's been dosed with sleep syrup, Sparrow. It's no fun when only I remember." He tucked a bit of hair behind her ear. "Your braid has come undone."

Reaver's face was too close to hers, Sparrow felt crossed eyed as she stared at him. "Sleep syrup?" she asked softly. She could feel the poison working in her, pulling her back under. "Who?"

"Alex, he could have added it to your drink when the waitress left it next to him at the bar."

Sparrow felt her limbs relax completely and her eyelids grow heavy, "Shit." She whispered before falling into unconsciousness.

The morning came swiftly and passed without as much as a stir in the dusty innards of Sparrow's house. It was 4:30 in the afternoon by the Village Crier's count when Sparrow finally opened her eyes, all trace of the drug erased from her system. The hero laid there for while, thinking over the events of the previous night, her mounting debt to Reaver, and, lastly, what she was going to do about Alex. Sparrow was thinking much more clearly now then she had been last night. She remembered her conversation with Reaver in the garden and came to the conclusion that he was probably telling the truth. She had drunk from his mug for most of the night and her memory didn't get fuzzy until midway through her chat with Alex. I'm going to have to apologize. Groaning, Sparrow rolled out of bed feeling remarkably well rested and, upon noticing that she was still wearing her travel clothes, decided she was going to take a long, hot bath. Her hair was tangled mess, she could feel it, and she was sure that she had layer upon of grime on her skin and clothes.

"Reaver?" Sparrow called out, it would be embarrassing for to have him walk in during the middle of her bath. She walked over to poke the extra bed that was placed in the corner of the open plan second floor. As it had looked from across the room, the bed was empty. "Reaver?" Sparrow hurried over to the stairs and jogged down them to the first floor. She smiled a little when she finally spotted him, asleep in her reading chair with a book spread open on his lap. He was slouched in the armchair, his face turned to the side and resting half on his shoulder and half on the cushiony back of the chair, his right arm hanging over the side.

Sparrow went back to the second floor, grabbed a blanket from the second bed, and returned to the sleeping Reaver to lay it gently over him. She slipped the book from his lap before making her final adjustment with the blanket.

"Fool pirate." She whispered shaking her head silently at how peaceful he seemed. "What were you reading-?" Sparrow flipped the book over and immediately recognized the binding as her own. Throughout her travels she had found many notes, maps, and manuscripts. With some help from the owner of the Bowerstone bookstore, Sparrow had learned to bind the pages of her finds into books and had lined her personal bookshelves with them. The book that Reaver had fallen asleep reading was one of Sparrow's later works. The book was a collection of research notes that Sparrow had been given while helping Belle with her excavation of the Fairfax gardens. She placed it back on the shelf, That's why he fell asleep in my chair. She thought, amused by the image of Reaver reading the dull notes.

Now that she'd found Reaver dead asleep, Sparrow could focus on her bath. She was sure that if yelling his name and moving the book hadn't woke him then a bath wouldn't. Also, she really didn't want to wait.