Secrets

By Lindsay R. Honosky

Chapter Six: Truce

HaHA! See, it didn't take that long after all, lol. Who am I talking to? I have no idea, I blame these silly comments on my lack of sleep (it's about four in the morning...) AHEM! Anyway, I want to thank you all for your reviews, really. I treasure each and every one, and it does my heart good to know that people enjoy my stories. I shall try to update as fast as I can for you all, and please leave me reviews so I know if I'm still don't a good job. Also, I wonder if I should put some Fable 3 characters in here as well. I'll let you decide, as I am writing this for you guys, lol.

On a side note I'm putting some funny commentary at the bottom of this chapter, because sleep deprivation compels me to.

Even though it was barely past nine in the morning, Wraithmarsh was a dark and cold place. Through the fog the sun shown in a sickly green blur, and in most places even those rays seldom touched the ground. The damp, moldy smell seemed to float up from the ground as you walked on it, or what seemed to be "ground". It was more a lucky patch of mud that had stayed dry enough to collect dirt, however the next rain would end its short-lived ambitions. Everything looked green, and if it wasn't green it was brown; normally colors Sparrow would enjoy, however in the dull light they became drab, uninviting things with threatening shadows hiding close behind them. A raven flew by over head, casting the shadow of a monster that engulfed the three travelers as they walked in silence.

A slight breeze tossed Sparrow's hair into her eyes, momentarily blinding her. She gave an annoyed sigh and stopped, afraid she might trip on one of the many branches just waiting for the opportunity. Just as she was reaching for her face she heard the echo of a gun's hammer, then the moan of the walking dead, "Move!"

Dust exploded to her left, and before she could think Judge's Steel was in her hand, the light from the blade almost blinding. Hollow Men surrounded them, their moans filling the air. Another was behind her, and Sparrow swept its feet from under it, watching as the fall made it lose an arm. Three more shots fired, smoke surrounding Reaver, almost completely concealing him when coupled with the fog. Jack had gone to work on the knocked down Hollow Man, removing its head and walking away with a triumphant growl. Sparrow stood and took count of the enemy; there were at least five left, though she knew not how many wisps might be floating around. She grimaced, tightened her grip, and lunged, bringing down the closest Hollow Man with a boot to the chest. It exploded on impact, the noise amplified as another shot ripped through another's neck. Reaver's eyes were alight with blood lust, and for a moment Sparrow remembered how dangerous he was while fighting the Shard. A sharp hit to the back woke her from her daydreaming, and she answered back with the hilt of her blade. The Hollow Man merely moaned, unable the feel the pain, and went for her once more. She rolled to the side, then dragged her blade through its chest as she rose, the creature returning once more to the void.

Only two were left, their skulls alight with an other-worldly glow. Curses flew from Sparrow's mouth as the one closest released a lightening spell. She had mere moments to react, dodging it by the skin of her teeth. However she didn't think that its companion would be smart enough to catch her as she jumped back. Pain erupted down her spine, through her limps, her entire form frozen as lightening coursed through her. The creatures drew closer, brandishing twin great axes. She tried to move, but was wracked with pain for her effort, and soon the world was growing darker. The last thing she saw was the skulls of the Hollow Men exploding, followed by a worried bark.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

There was a bird chirping outside her window. She watched it for hours, transfixed on the many little brown flecks that decorated its tiny body. So absorbed in her bird watching she didn't realize Rose had come to stand beside her. Her sister smiled, "Do you know what that is?"

She only shook her head, unable to answer.

Rose smiled, "It's called a Sparrow. You don't see to many of them in Albion anymore."

She frowned, "Why?"

"They're a dying breed. Mother said that they were so grief stricken by the loss of the Heroes that they too decided to accompany them to the void."

"But why? Not all heroes are dead." She said, feeling sorry for the tiny thing that perched outside her window.

Rose ruffled her hair, kneeling down to face her, "No, I suppose they aren't."

"Maybe they're just off looking for those who disappeared?" She smiled widely, "Rose, we should go find them too!"

"Oh? Well then, little Sparrow, just where should we start?"

"What did you call me?"

Rose lifted her eyes from her sister to the window, "I called you Sparrow, since you're going to find Heroes one day."

Sparrow laughed, then grabbed her sister's hand and began to rush out the door, "Then come on! We can't keep Albion waiting!" Yet as she reached the door her sister's hand was no longer there, but replaced by a cold, cruel blue one wrapped in black leather. The face that looked down on her was morphed and deformed, horrible sharp spikes protruding through the figure's face. Sparrow tried to free herself from his grasp, but the Commandant was to strong, and it only earned her a mocking laugh. She was thrown to the floor, the vibrations shaking the very depths of her soul.

Sharp teeth could be seen over the lip of his trench coat, as the Commandant promised, "I will break you..."

She woke screaming, cold sweat drenching her forehead. Fear threatened to engulf her as she realized she was not in her room. In fact, she did not know where she was, the fog making it to thick to see. However there was warmth coming from her left, and the familiar sound of Jack's whining finally cleared her head. Sparrow found herself laying in a rather neat looking camp, a fire blazing merrily with a tiny cook pot hovering above it. Jack was laying across her legs, his eyes watching her curiously. She patted his head, though when she tried to get up her body screamed in denial. Memories of her previous battle flooded her mind, and she flushed with embarrassment and fury. Of all the times for a few Hollow Men to get the best of her!

"By the look on your face, it seems we won't be leaving Wraithmarsh before nightfall," Reaver seemed to emerge from nothing, "pity."

Sparrow tried to sit up by her elbows but failed, "You didn't have any trouble while I lay unconscious, did you?"

He eyed her flatly, "Sparrow, do you not remember who you are addressing?"

She rolled her eyes, "Oh, how foolish of me to forget."

"Indeed," he smiled then, "We really should do something about the way we spend time together." She raised an eyebrow, to which he smirked slyly, "It seems a waste for us to always be on our backs, yet not fully utilizing the possibilities of those situations." There was something strange to his manner; tense and slightly nervous, as if he were bothered by the remnants of a particularly disturbing dream. His smile seemed strained, deep green eyes darting back and forth as if in search for something that was not there.

Sparrow shook it off, crediting the known dangers of the swamp to his unease. She lay back to the ground, sighing deeply, "One day you going to say the wrong thing to me, and one day one of us will end up dead."

He gave a short laugh, "No certain as to whom the victor will be? Really Sparrow, you should gain some more self-confidence."

"Perhaps I would believe I were a big shot, had I not just been reminded how easily it is to be beaten."

Arching an elegant eyebrow that no doubt took hours to sculpt, Reaver answered, "Perhaps I was wrong about you, my dear. If I'd known you were such an insufferable corpse of self-pity, why I believe I would have just left you to rot in Bloodstone."

She closed her eyes and laughed, "Such the motivationalist."

"Only to those who owe me money," he gave her a playful wink, his form relaxing for the first time since he'd re-appeared in the camp. It was then that she noticed his jacked had gone missing, along with the cape. The white undershirt he wore beneath seemed to cling to him in places, and when she strained her neck to find out why she found a rather large red stain. Reaver followed her gaze, an annoyed grimace appearing on his face, "You needn't worry over such things. However it is a pity such a fine shirt was sullied." Reaver sighed, a hint of pain hidden masterfully around its edges, "I suppose it is but another number to add to your increasing debt to me."

With the help of Jack she leaned up, examining his side further, "This isn't something to laugh about, Reaver."

"I don't recall a chuckle ever escaping my lips-?" A hiss of pain and surprise cut off his words as cool hands lifted the silken fabric and graced over his half-made bandage.

Sparrow frowned deeply, "The wound must be deep if you've already soaken through this bandage," she rubbed her face, trying to rid herself of her weariness, "hold still while I change it for you."

Reaver grabbed her wrists, firmly but not so much as to hurt her, "Sparrow dear I believe you've just broken the rule of personal space."

She looked up, an eyebrow raised in amusement, "I didn't think that word was in your vocabulary, Reaver." Sparrow was surprised to see how serious his face had grown, and behind his eyes was something similar to the lines of fear, "Reaver?"

The man stood and looked away, "If I wish to be touched by another being then I will be the one to initiate the contact. Unwanted contact from another individual usually ends up with them getting quite familiar with a pool of their own blood."

"I see," she stood and walked after him, however madly her body protested. Once she was fully behind him she placed both hands on his shoulders, and before he could say another word she had pushed him to the ground. The glare he shot her would have paralyzed a weaker person in fear, however Sparrow simply ignored him and went for her pack. Standing before him, she ordered, "Take off your shirt."

A cocky grin answered her, "Oh? You intend to take advantage of me in my weakened state? Why, I had no idea you were such the deviant, Sparrow dear."

"Loose it. Now." Her tone gave no room for argument, and she hid the surprise as she watched Reaver comply. Kneeling down, she began to trace the lining of his bandage, delicately so as not to aggravate the wound, and found it's beginning. It was masterfully wrapped, no doubt from centuries of his own patchwork, but she doubted he had magic to help keep infection at bay. She glanced up to watch Reaver's face as she unraveled the material, wondering what he might be thinking behind that bemused smile. However, once she had finished removing the bandage, all thought went to the wound.

It was an angry, crimson thing that tore in three places on his ribcage. Claw marks, something said to her, and she whistled, "Ouch." Reaver stayed silent, his face changing to a blank slate. Sparrow ignored it, amazed at the fact that the man could hide so much pain behind his silly smiles and idiotic conversation. Blood was threatening to fall with the removal of its barrier, and Sparrow quickly put her hand over the gashes. She felt Reaver tensed, but beyond that he gave no response. Blue light soon emanated from her hand, and she could feel the warmth of her magic spreading across the torn muscle and flesh. It took only a minute or two for the would to heal completely, and Sparrow sat back with a satisfied smile. As she wipped the blood from her hands, her eyes once again trailed to Reaver's face, and she stopped moving.

The intensity at which he were staring at her startled her, almost to the point of being frightened. She called his name once, but he seemed to be lost behind those deep green eyes, and for a moment Sparrow thought he might have passed out due to the pain. She reached a cautious hand out to him, "Reaver?"

As quick as a snake her wrist was locked in his iron grip, and in a blur she was on her back with something heavy atop her. She struggled to breath, to move, but her body would not respond to such impossible desires. As she looked her assailint in the eye, true fear shown on her face. His voice was cold, eyes dark, "I told you not to touch me." The lack of air must have been making her head spin, for it was if she could see shadows dancing around his body, "It's dangerous for people not to listen to me."

"Good point, remind me not to heal you anymore." She snapped, hoping her words sounded braver than she felt.

He laughed in a low, guttural tone, teeth showing like a wolf's. Reaver brought his face to rest mere inches from her's, "Perhaps I should teach you some lessons in humility?" Anger exploded in Sparrow, both at his boldness and the blush that seemed to creep upon her cheeks. Though however hard she struggled, she couldn't replace the man who straddled her hips. His lips found the delicate shell of her ear, the vibration of his whisper sending chills up her spine, "You fight so hard to deny your body of what you want. Do you really desire that I take my leave of this wonderful position?" His tongue traced the lining of her ear, and she hated herself for the hitch in her breath.

"G-get off of me now, Reaver-!"

She felt him tense once again, watched as his head rose. A vicious smile replaced that of his lust-filled visage, and he sounded almost regretful, "It seems I have no choice but to comply."

A howl echoed beyond them, and it was only now did Sparrow notice Jack's growls. She arched her back to look behind her, receiving a small intake of breath as her hips made contact with Reaver's. She rolled her eyes, swallowing down the shame she felt for feeling flustered, and found the source of the howl. A white balverine stood above them atop a hill, shining in the silvery moonlight. The monster was enormous, though thankfully alone, licking its mauw in anticipation for its next meal. As she studied the creature, she noticed it was already bleeding quite profusely from a wound to the shoulder, however its right claw was covered in blood. She looked at Reaver's chest, "I thought anything that invaded your personal space drowned in their own blood?"

"Only if there's no threat of my drowning in my own."

Reaver rolled to the left, Sparrow the right, both finding their pistols just as the beast landed between their camp. Jack gave it no chance for to gain its footing, as the dog leapt for the balverine's throat with amazing accuracy, latching on in a ferocious show of teeth and claws. Before it could react two bullets had pierced its head, and the beast collapsed in a heap of blood and fur. Jack jumped off his target, satisfied that it was dead, and sniffed it curiously. Sparrow put a hand on his head, "I wouldn't eat that if I were you." The dog gave it another sniff, then decided his mistress was probably correct, and returned to his fireside bedside.

"Well that certainly was boring-oh?" Reaver stopped as the barrel of a pistol nearly touched his sculpted nose. He laughed gaily, "My my, perhaps I was wrong."

"I wonder what it is about that disease-riddled brain of yours that thinks you can't come near me after nearly raping me, Reaver."

Reaver's smile only widened, "You can't rape the willing, my dear."

The hammer to her gun clicked in place, "I don't remember inviting you to crush the breath out of me."

"Maybe not with words, but that delicious blush that danced so gracefully on your cheeks said otherwise. Now," sparks flew as his Dragonstomper met with her Clockwork, the weapon being flung from her hand as if she herself has thrown it. It was amazing at how gracefully he moved around her, his arm twisting around her neck while the other had somehow pinned her arms together. Sparrow let out a small cry as pain shot through her shoulders. Reaver laughed quietly in her ear, "I believe I was about to teach you a thing or two about 'manners'."

Despite the pain Sparrow struggled, but to no avail. How could he be so strong? She bit her lip, fighting back panic, instead choosing to let fury fuel her, "If you do, so help me Reaver I'll teach you the finer things about having a few extra holes to breath through!"

"I believe that threat might hold some credit, were you not shaking so badly," he crooned, lifting her chin so their eyes met. For a moment the smile that seemed forever on his face lessened as he stared into those sparkling blue orbs. There truly was fear hidden beind the anger, and something stirred inside of him, like a strange tickle in the back of his head. For a moment he thought he heard a voice, the owner of which long since dead, screaming out for him to stop.

Sparrow refused to look away from his eyes, determined not to show fear. She was confused to see the dance of conflict playing out on Reaver's face, then she realized he seemed to be drifting through his thoughts. As quickly and as hard as her limbs would allow, Sparrow brought both her arms down, breaking Reaver's pin. She spun out of his arms, rolled, and reclaimed her gun, however Reaver had brought his up just as quickly. Reaver clicked his tongue, looking generally concerned, "Neither one of us will make it out of this marsh if we keep trying to dispose of each other."

"We are in a graveyard," Sparrow tried one of his trademark grins, "perhaps it's fate?"

He barked a harsh laugh, "Hardly, my dear. If I were fated to rot in this slimy crypt of the damn, I would have died all those years ago." With a flourish Reaver holstered his pistol, raising both hands in the air, "A proposal then, hm?"

Sparrow eyed him warily, "Another instance of 'tit for tat'?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of a truce," he stroked the small patch of hair which grew upon his chin, "I swear I shall make no move to harm you, as you so desperately need to put it, whilst we traverse the marsh. In return, I would like you to stop pointing weapons of any kind at my person," he moved one hand up and down his side, as if showing himself on display, "I am rather fond of it, you know."

"And what if I were to just kill you now?" He looked at her straight in the eye, and for what seemed an eternity they were silent. A strange clicking noise drew her attention, and she realized her hand was shaking. What is happening to me? With an exasperated sigh Sparrow holstered her weapon, "Very well, Reaver. But so help me if you so much as touch a hair on my head-!"

"Yes yes, you'll shoot me with your pretty little pistol or stab me with that sparkling sword or whatever sick and demented means of demise that demented little mind of yours can dream up." He clapped his hands together, causing her to jump, "Now then! I do think that the water I put on earlier should have boiled by now, and all this excitement has left me rather famished."

"You're going to eat? Seriously? After all that's just happened?"

He reached down to put on one of his leather gloves, "Really Sparrow, what might have been eventful to you was actually rather boring to someone as exciting as me. You remember, I've had infuriated followers burn down my house whilst I slept away!" Grabbing the handle to the cook pot with the gloved hand, he gave out a startled yelp.

"What? Did you burn your hand?"

"Worse," he sighed in annoyance, "seems I'll need to go fetch more water. And so the monotony continues."

Sparrow sighed, exhausted. She walked over to where Jack lay, sitting next to the sleeping dog, and watched Reaver disappear once more beyond the bushes. Placing a hand to her forehead, she breated herself for finding that she was smiling from ear to ear.

Me: Well, I think that went pretty well!

Reaver: You do, do you? I suppose you enjoy depicting me as some nemphomatic, homicidal deviant, do you?

Me:...Yeah, I kinda do.

Sparrow: It wouldn't be far from the truth now, would it?

Reaver: You women are so cruel. Why, dear Andrew would have never spoken to me in such a manner!

Me: Dear Andrew also knew the consiquences of pissing you off...

Reaver: Touche.

Sparrow: Enough, both of you. I think you should sleep now, Lindsay.

Me: And I think YOU should CRAM IT!

Sparrow/Reaver: ...

Me:...I'll go to sleep now.

END