(OOC: Hello, dear readers. I apologize for the delay, but now summer is here and updates should be more frequent. I am so excited about where this is going - the story's going to start picking up a bit more soon, and there will be some drama and love~, and I'm really looking forward to it. Thank you so much for the reviews. They honestly make my day and I adore reading each and every one of them. The song for this chapter was Down, by Jason Walker.)

When Ally woke up, she felt like someone was trying to split her skull open. She kept her eyes closed, groaning long and loud.

A warm, dry hand slotted into hers and squeezed once, encouraging her to fully wake up. Ally would have much rather rolled back over. She wanted to dive beneath her covers and never come out, not at the order of the maids or even her father, and then Trish would hear she was feeling ill and come over with her favorite treats and the latest gossip and Ally would pretend to listen. But then she recognized the fraying texture digging harshly into her shoulder blade, remembered where she was, remembered who she was, and that last she'd checked those on board hadn't really seemed like the hand holding type.

Her eyes fluttered upon and she blinked at the figure next to her. "Dallas?"

He smiled. "Mornin', sunshine."

She tilted her head back into the hammock, trying to ignore the way her heart fluttered and energy seemed to shoot from where his fingers wrapped around hers. "I'm afraid I might be ill."

Ally heard a quiet laugh. "Not quite, Ms. Dawson. It's just the after affects of the alcohol, s'all. It'll go away."

Alcohol?

"Was I... was I drinking?"

"I'm told you were quite thoroughly drunk by the time you were found."

She groaned, squeezing her eyes shut. Her memories of the night before were vague at best, but she could indeed faintly recall the feeling of liquid searing her throat as she tossed it back. What would her father say? Her, drinking like a common... like a common doxie? She nearly shuddered at the thought, her face heating up considerably. She would never hear the end of it if Austin found out.

Who was she kidding? Austin almost certainly already knew.

Ally opened her eyes and glanced at Dallas again, frowning when she noticed a fresh looking bruise on his jaw. "What happened to you?"

Dallas cringed. "Austin wasn't too happy when he found out I lost you."

"He hit you?"

Dallas raised his palms quickly in an attempt to calm her. "Only once. Oh, really, Miss, don't look so shocked. I was responsible for watching you, after all. I deserved it."

"You most certainly did not! I'm my own responsibility, thank you very much, and if anyone should be blamed it should be me for my poor judgement."

"Oh, trust me," a voice called from above, a shadow blocking the sunlight falling down the stairs. Austin swung down with his usual ease and energy (she marveled, sometimes, at how he always managed to show up not minutes after she awakened as if he had a sixth sense), but Ally was surprised to see he was scowling. "I blame the both of you plenty."

She struggled to push herself up onto her elbows even as her head pounded painfully. "You don't have the right to blame anyone. You don't own me, Austin. Far from it, in fact. Who are you to keep me from doing as I please?"

"Last I checked, drinking enough rum to make you feel top heavy was certainly not 'as you pleased', princess. Besides, Cyril put me in charge of your well being. The man almost throttled me when he found out I let you out of my sight."

"Why does everyone on this blasted ship seem to think I need to be taken care of?" Ally surprised herself with such foul and bold language, but found she didn't regret it one bit. "I'm not some wee little girl you need to keep out of trouble. And since when was being drunk any danger to my well being? You didn't seem to think any of the other young women on that island were in trouble, and half of them couldn't even walk straight!"

Austin scoffed. "The doxies? The women pirates? That's an entirely different situation!"

"How on Earth is it different? Some of them were even younger than I am!"

"They aren't you, princess! They weren't born and raised in a nice, civil, innocent home where they always had someone to watch over them."

"I don't always need your protection, Austin! I was doing just fine without it."

"Yes, and you stumbling around on a tabletop was certainly proof of how well you can do without me, wasn't it?"

"Will you two just stop?" Dallas burst out so suddenly that both Austin and Ally started and blinked at him in surprise, having almost forgotten his presence. All at once Ally felt her face grow hot, and she noted that even in the dim light she could make out the sudden flush of Austin's cheeks. She wasn't sure what, exactly, they were embarrassed about, but there was something in the way Dallas looked between them that made her insides twist guiltily.

Her gaze dropped to where her hands had tangled together furiously in her lap. "Sorry," she managed, her voice so quiet she almost wondered if they'd be able to hear her. When she looked up again, Dallas' gaze bore into her.

"Austin has a point," he said, his voice lowering slightly. "Whether you like it or not, this ain't your territory. You're a toff, a high and mighty lady of propriety. The rest of us are scum in comparison, but in these parts that's what keeps us from causin' too much trouble. You're different, so at least for the time being, you need protection."

Ally's face grew impossibly warmer. She felt like a young child being scolded. Dallas turned his attention to Austin.

"Ally has a point, too, though. How are we supposed to trust her if we don't let her make her own decisions sometimes?" Austin opened his mouth to retort, but Dallas swiftly and effectively cut him off. "And I'm certainly not saying that her getting drunk in a pirate's bar is any good for her, or any of us, for that matter, and I'll take the blame for that. But we have to give her some freedom or she'll never become one of us."

Though she knew the words were meant to quell the situation, they made her suddenly feel ice cold. She'll never become one of us. Was that what they wanted from her? Was that what they expected? She'd admit, she certainly was adapting well in the harsher environment. She could easily navigate the deck around the other sailors, and the slop served on board had become slightly more tolerable. She was comfortable in trousers. She felt panic begin to rise inside of her. What was next? The ability to toss back rum without blinking? The eagerness to pillage an innocent town for its riches? The blackened, sinful soul of a pirate residing within her? Living among them, she'd almost forgotten. She'd almost let go of her roots, of all the manners and lessons of her youth. She'd almost stopped believing the stories she'd once heard of the wicked pirates who took advantage of young women and slaughtered the men courageous enough to face them. Suddenly, though, all those thoughts and memories were swirling through her head, making her dizzy.

What was she becoming?

we are too wicked to apologize, but not too rotten to forgive

He had trouble focusing the rest of the day. His knots come out all twisted and wrong, he lost his footing once or twice when the ship lurched, and he was so unproductive that even Dez commented. His eyes kept wandering over to where Ally sat mending sails. Her sunburn was beginning to flake away, skin becoming a sunkissed shade, and he noticed freckles beginning to appear on her cheekbones. There was something off about her, about the way she moved and the distant look in her eyes.

"Maybe she misses St. Lucia," Dez suggested when he mentioned it to him, and Austin felt guilt like a stab in the chest. St. Lucia, her home, the island that she thought was being torn apart by a battle of two countries when in truth it was safe and sound and ready for her return. Austin didn't know why Cyril refused to let her leave and he hadn't asked, but he suddenly felt more curious than ever.

In the late afternoon, just as the sun was sinking close to the horizon, he worked up the courage to wander over near her. She either pretended not to notice or was generally too absentminded to. He took a deep breath, not really sure what he was going to say. What came out wasn't quite as eloquent as he'd hoped. "Hi."

Her head jerked up and she glanced at him in mild surprise. For a moment her face was open, her expression easy. Then she recognized him, and it was as if a door had been slammed shut. "Hello."

He could have sliced through the tension with a knife. "How's the sail coming along?"

She glanced down at the canvas in her lap as if she'd completely forgotten it was there. Austin couldn't help but notice that, for all the time she'd spent working that day, she seemed to have made little progress. "Fine. It's coming along just fine."

For some reason Austin felt the sudden need to look anywhere but her face. He focused on the way the dimming sun reflected on the water. "Dallas was worried about you. He says you've been acting strange all day." It was a lie - Dallas hadn't noticed a thing. Austin was too self conscious to admit that he was the curious one, though.

For a moment her expression brightened somewhat. "Was he really?"

Austin's lips twitched into a smile. She certainly hadn't yet mastered disguising her feelings on that bloody island, that was for sure. "He was. He's a good man, you know. I approve of the match."

All at once the light disappeared from her eyes and they narrowed up at him. "I don't need your approval, Austin."

The way she said his voice was cold, stiff, formal. He felt his shoulders go rigid in response. She watched him for a moment before returning to her work. "Right then," Austin said, as if a silent agreement had been made between the two of them, and he left her to it.

He hated arguments, and he wasn't used to being a part of one. And yet, ever since she'd come aboard he felt himself constantly dodging them. He watched her for the remainder of the afternoon and, when night finally fell and she went to get her dinner alone, he felt himself finally give in. Bloody wench.

He'd kept it carefully hidden up until then, not really sure what he wanted to do with it. The box felt strangely heavy in his hands as he hid it easily behind his back, approaching Ally from the shadows. He wasn't that thrilled by moments of awkward intimacy - he much preferred bold, quick, vivid passion - but if that was what it would take to get Ally back on his side, he would do it.

"A word?" he said it softly, but she still jumped, spinning around to face him. Her eyes were bright even in the dark, and he could see the conflict in them for a moment before she finally sighed and allowed him to lead her into the darkness to the ship's edge.

She tucked her hands together in front of her, watching him closely. He coughed. "I, um..." he trailed off, voice cracking. He tried again. "I have something for you."

He pulled the box out and in that moment, all the awkwardness and stiff, formal speaking was worth it just to see the way her eyes lit up and the smile spread over her face. Just to feel the way her arms suddenly flung around him and she clung to him for dear life, as if they'd never argued at all.

And, in that moment, all was forgiven.