Disclaimer: I am not in anyway linked with Disney, PotC, Blackadder, Robin Hood, his Merry Men, Sappho, or the Ancient Greeks; I think I have everything covered…
AN: This short story is really for the readers of How My Perfect Life Was Inverted, as it helps shed some light on Cate's character, her relationship with Jack, and explains how exactly she and Jack ended up 'married,' and whose fault exactly that was. I think it fair to warn you that this contains a minor, semi-plot-related spoiler for a future chapter of How My Perfect Life Was Inverted, but seeing how it's taking me so long to write that story…
And Sappho Smiled
Part The First: In Which Father Dickinson Realises He Is On A Gay Pirate Ship
It all started, as these things tended to do, with a bet; Jack was certain that, without the bet and the subsequent marriage de facto that followed (his marriage, to be exact), the kiss would never have happened, which was probably why it would be best to start with the bet and the hasty wedding that the bridegroom was too drunk to consummate (though he was loathe to admit it), with the occasional flashback strategically thrown in to clarify certain points and ensure that this tale is not in any way gratuitous.
Right then, onto the bet: and how better to introduce a wager than to name the gamblers involved, and the circumstances that lead to these almost respectable persons undertaking such an agreement? (Although to be perfectly honest for one moment, it should perhaps be noted that a wager does not play a large role in this tale; 'it all started with a bet' just happened to make a rather appealing opening sentence.)
The players in question were Captain Jack Sparrow of the Black Pearl (obviously); the woman that was simultaneously his mistress, friend, and frustratingly collected equal, Miss Catriona Woodcraft, newly of the Black Pearl; and finally, Father Leonard Dickinson, a former cleric of the Church of England turned alcoholic buccaneer, and God only knows how he got onto the deck of the Black Pearl.
Father Dickinson had come bursting into the captain's cabin rather early in the evening, and completely uninvited, as was demonstrated by Cate and Jack's twin shrieks of horror (he'd just taken her shirt off, as they had both been under the impression that no crewman would dare interrupt them). The cleric's cheap wig was askew, and he held in one hand a noticeably dry mop; what the other clenched fist held Jack couldn't quite see, as Cate's golden hair chose that particular moment to whip his cheek as she struggled to look over his shoulder, her fingers digging into his bare arms in an attempt to preserve her modesty, which Jack hadn't actually minded, all things considered.
"Captain, I've shocking news to report—I have reason to believe that your crew—"
He'd stopped then, and stared at the half-dressed woman pinned beneath the completely undressed captain, his mouth falling open in a gasp of disapproving horror.
"My son!" he said at last, his voice a bare whisper. "Not you too!"
It was at this point that Jack realised that there was not one inch of his body which the priest couldn't fully observe in all its bare glory. The realisation made the pirate freeze in his place, completely oblivious to the uncomfortably wriggling Cate beneath him, and it seems almost gratuitous to say that the three remained in their respective positions for the next ten seconds or so.
It was Father Dickinson that first recovered his senses: he tucked his clenched fist which contained the object Jack had yet to glimpse, released a battle cry of "Demon!" and came barrelling towards the bed, wielding his mop in a most threatening manner and shouting a number of unrepeatable things which a priest really shouldn't be shouting at all but which nevertheless helped to clarify in Jack's mind that Dickinson was in fact targeting Cate. The woman immediately took action; with one powerful push, she had thrown the naked Jack off of her body—indeed, she had thrown him completely off of the bed, and he had the splintered backside to prove it—had grabbed the sheet, leapt nimbly over the cursing Jack lying on the floorboards, and had then demonstrated the fine art of multi-tasking as she simultaneously wrapped the bed sheet about her body whilst running from the mop-wielding cleric, who had taken to chasing her about the captain's cabin in a ludicrous and highly comical fashion which Jack would have found incredibly amusing had he not the splinters with which to contend.
Wincing, he sat up, somewhat grateful that his back wasn't completely broken, reached up to feel the mattress with one hand, and with agonising slowness, pulled himself up into a standing position. With one glance at Cate, who had just thrown a boot into Dickinson's sallow face, an action which had elicited a "Blast your swift hands, infernal concubine!" from the cleric in question, Jack had then engaged in a leisurely five-minute search for his clothing, and it was only after he had tied his sash securely about his waist that he decided it would be wise if he was to intrude.
"Children, children," he pacified, skilfully grabbing the mop from Father Dickinson's madly swinging hands with an air of one who had had experience with disarming bloodthirsty priests. Cate, having immediately noticed that Dickinson had been relinquished of his weapon, had halted in her steps, spun on her heel, and delivered a skilled punch that had sent the Protestant sprawling into Jack's not entirely open arms.
"Bastard," she hissed, clutching the sheet tightly to her naked torso. "You… utter… bastard…"
"Cate, sweetheart," Jack said sympathetically, himself clinging tightly onto Dickinson, who he strongly suspected was on the verge of tears, "how 'bout you go put some clothes on, eh? Looks as though we've company.
"And close the door as well," he added as an afterthought. "We've already given the crew an eyeful," and he gave her a salacious wink that had her smiling in embarrassment.
"Leonard, old friend," he addressed Father Dickinson as Cate scuttled off to do his bidding, "why don't you sit yourself down, help yourself to some brandy, dry your sweetly squinting grey eyes, and tell me what is so urgent it requires my immediate attention?"
Those of you who have met Father Dickinson before this rather unfortunate incident may be somewhat surprised at Jack's familiar behaviour towards the older gentleman, as on more than one occasion did Father Dickinson's rather warped and twisted religious beliefs directly collide with Jack's own personal inclinations. As luck would have it, Jack was a kind man, a thoughtful and forgiving gentleman of fortune who did not begrudge Dickinson his religious fervour, as Jack could plainly see that at the end of the day the priest only meant well. The fact that the cleric provided some wonderfully amusing sermons and kept his crew somewhat under his thumb with threats of eternal damnation may also have had something to do with it.
"It's your crew, sir," the priest gibbered as Jack carefully steered him towards the desk and gently pushed him into a seat. "The crew, the crew, the crew…" And he shuddered rather melodramatically as Jack arranged his feet on the table.
"And what of the crew, Father Dickinson?"
The priest swallowed once before continuing.
"Captain Sparrow, it grieves me to inform you that I've reason to suspect your crewmen are actively leading lives of sin."
Jack raised an eyebrow and feigned outrage. "And what vice did you witness my crewmen indulging in that led you to such a sorry conclusion?"
"I heard talk of… of fornication," Dickinson completed in a frightened whisper.
"Fornication, you say?"
"Aye, sir. With women!"
"Heavens above!" Jack exclaimed, secretly warming to his role and marvelling at what a wonderfully talented actor he made. "With women, you say?"
"Yes sir."
"Why, that is absolutely despicable!" Jack said, letting his feet fall to the floor so that he might lean forwards in his own chair. "Men, animals, birds, fish and insects are in abundance, and yet they still choose to lay with women. Disgusting."
"Absolutely," Dickinson agreed, and Jack could read in his face that the cleric was glad to have found another who shared his views. And then, in a slightly hesitant tone, "You've forgotten vegetables as well."
"Oh, I am sorry," Jack apologised. After a pause, he asked, more to make conversation than anything else, "Anyone I happen to know?"
"Oddly enough, yes: and she is Satan's most infernal succubus," he revealed in a voice seething with hatred.
"Oh, Sierra," Jack interpreted. "So… When you tell me that you overhead my crew speaking of indulging in the vice of fornication, what you in fact meant was that you overheard my crew indulging in the sin of lust. Well, that's not too bad."
"Not too bad…?" Father Dickinson parroted incredulously. "My son, surely you must know that the sin of lust leads to the vice of fornication!"
"Isn't it odd," Jack observed pensively, "that lust is one of the seven deadly sins, whereas fornication is only a vice? Isn't there a slight inconsistency there?"
Father Dickinson appeared not to have heard this little observation.
"As I was saying," he continued, "I had overheard them freely indulging in the sin of lust, and as I pretended to mop," and he pointed to the object which Jack had so recently confiscated, "I heard them confessing, rather openly, that they had also broken one of the gravest of the Ten Commandments."
"'Thou shalt not commit adultery?'" Jack guessed. "'Thou shalt not murder?'"
"'Thou shalt not steal!'" Father Dickinson hissed with a violence not becoming a man of the cloth. "My son, your crew were talking rather openly of theft!"
It was on the tip of Jack's tongue to point out that his crew were of the piratical persuasion, but he wisely held himself in check.
"And what is more, they have implicated that you are their leader on such debauched raids!" Dickinson continued, and Jack couldn't help the impish smirk that stole across his features. Poor Father Dickinson saw this, and gasped once again in disapproval. "Jack," he murmured fearfully, "is there truth in any of this this?"
Jack looked the cleric directly in the eye. "I am afraid there is," he answered grimly, and bit his tongue to hold back his laughter at the expression on Dickinson's face. "But before you fetch that mop and beat me over the head with it," he added swiftly just as Dickinson proceeded to stand, "I have one thing to ask of you: have you ever heard of a man called Robin Hood?"
Dickinson frowned at this, obviously confused. "Robin Hood?"
"Aye, Robin Hood," Jack confirmed nonchalantly. "And his band of Merry Men."
"Indeed I have heard of Robin Hood and his gay associates," Father Dickinson replied.
"Oh good," Jack had smiled breezily. "And what, pray tell, is Robin Hood and his Merry Men most famed for?"
"Wearing green."
Jack frowned at this, and shook his head. "Not quite."
"Living in a forest like uncivilised natives."
"No…"
"Kidnapping Maid Marian and making her his bride—no, thwarting the Sheriff of Nottingham!"
"And how did they annoy the Sheriff of Nottingham?"
"They… stole from the rich and gave to the poor, did they not?"
"Exactly," Jack said, happy that the cleric had figured it out at last. "They stole from the rich, much like what this pirate ship is fitted out for."
Father Dickinson merely looked confused, and Jack sighed.
"Father Dickinson, the time has come to explain to you the exact nature of piracy, and therefore the purpose of a pirate ship," he said, leaning back in his chair. He paused, uncertain of how to phrase the technical definition, whilst Dickinson looked mutely up at him with childlike curiosity in his eyes. Finally, he said, "I am Robin Hood; the crew, my unruly band of Merry Men."
"My son," Father Dickinson had gasped, looking at the captain in wonder, "are you telling me that you—that we—rob the rich?"
"Aye, that we do," Jack readily confirmed.
"So… So I assume that the Black Pearl is government-funded?"
Jack had nearly fallen off of his seat at this point. "And why would you assume that my ship is government-funded?"
"Well… Are we not on a charitable cruise embarked upon with the sole purpose of helping the most unfortunate out of poverty, and in doing so therefore secure our immortal souls a place in Heaven alongside our Lord God?"
Jack just stared at the eloquent cleric in shock. "Not in so many words…" he corrected cautiously.
Father Dickinson frowned. "I don't understand," he said at last.
And neither do I, Jack was tempted to add, wondering how he could have confused the cleric so greatly.
"Do you—we—not steal from the rich?"
"We do…" Jack confirmed.
"And do we not give our ill-gained profits to the poor?"
In a flash, Jack had realised where he had gone wrong.
"Oh, my dear Father, you are so very naïve; I meant to say that my crew and I are halfway to becoming Robin Hood and his Merry Men: you see, we steal from the rich, but we don't directly give it to the poor…"
Jack was very tempted to say this aloud, but curbed the temptation; instead, he decided that it'll be best to encourage Father Dickinson to think for himself, which was why he said, "Well, we do steal from the rich…" and gave Father Dickinson a meaningful glance that suggested that he complete the sentence for himself.
"But you… don't give to the poor?" Dickinson had said somewhat nervously, his lower lip trembling. Jack was about to confirm this in a most casual and callous manner, but there was something about Father Dickinson's face, the palpable fear in his eyes, that made Jack hesitate.
"Father Dickinson," he said at last, "we are the poor."
Dickinson's face had flooded with relief. "God be praised," he said. "Did you know, for a moment there I had feared that you were about to tell me that this ship is fitted out with one goal in mind, and that is for fast, illicit, material gain, but now that I realise it is in fact a government-funded attempt to reduce the high percentage of unemployment and number of people living out their shortened lives in unsanitary poverty, my mind is much at rest."
Looking incredulously at Dickinson's widely beaming face, Jack couldn't help but think that ignorance really was bliss.
"Of course it is," Jack half-heartedly agreed, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Cate, fully-dressed, had appeared, and was giving Father Dickinson a rather distrustful look. "So you may think what you will of my crew—every man's entitled to his own thoughts, that's a sad and sorry fact—but I think it best that next time you deem them sinful and plan to burst into my cabin with a mop—which I won't be giving immediately back to you, by the way, on account of your bad behaviour—" (Father Dickinson had looked rather crestfallen at these words.) "—I think it best that you stop, and think, and realise that you are sailing under the command of a government-funded Robin Hood, and that his Merry Men's behaviour, which you consider to be sinful, is in fact a demonstration of their happiness. Do you understand?"
"I do, sir," Father Dickinson nodded vigorously. "You are asking me to keep in mind the fact that I am on a gay pirate ship, and as such, bawdy talk, lewd acts, and overall indecent conduct may occasionally transpire, and to think nothing more of it when they do."
"And that it's all government-funded," Jack added, and saw Cate frowning rather prettily in confusion. He smiled softly at her, a subtle action that did not escape the notice of Father Dickinson, who turned in his seat to spot the fully-clad Cate watching the two of them.
"And you must be the government representative," he gushed, and Cate's violet eyes widened in surprise as he rose to shake her hand. "I'm so very sorry about the attacking mop," he apologised profusely whilst Cate merely stared at him in mute shock. "It's just that the last time I saw the captain engage in such… intimate acts, the other participant was a satanic—albeit rather pretty, in fact far more beautiful than you yourself are, which is saying rather a lot—" Jack smirked slightly at the expression on Cate's face, finding that his treacherous heart agreed completely with Dickinson's sentiment "—succubus, and with that sort of recent romantic history—she's still on the ship, did you know that?—one must be rather careful, don't you agree?"
Cate had abruptly slapped him.
"Well, I never!" Father Dickinson exclaimed, a hand reaching up to tentatively touch his cheek. "I think I shall retaliate by not paying my taxes this year, if this is the sort of behaviour the government encourages in its employees!"
"Get out, you pathetic, asinine fool," Cate had said, and to Jack's amazement, the priest had then trotted out of the cabin without another word.
"You are absolutely wonderful," Jack remarked, standing and going towards her with every intention of taking her in his arms, but she simply turned away, choosing instead to hug herself. Jack frowned at this before realising what had caused her sudden coldness, and then his face became one of sympathy.
"It's Sierra, isn't it?" he said to her.
Cate had snorted at this, and had silently replied by shooting a glance laced with derision over her shoulder. "Do you honestly think me such a simple creature that I would be so greatly affected by the mere mention of her name?"
"Ah, but it wasn't just a mere mention of a name though," Jack had pointed out, trying to slip an arm about her shoulder once more. "'Twas more of a short ode referring to the more… attractive qualities the woman possesses which you resolutely lack."
Cate had quite understandably slapped his hand away, spinning on her heel to face him. "Oh, honestly!" she raged at seeing his pleased smirk. "Do you really believe I'm such a stereotypically sensitive member of the fairer sex as to be so greatly overcome with envy for another woman?"
"Is she still not warming to you, then?" Jack had guessed, ignoring her tirade. "I'm guessing you haven't even got a kiss out of her yet, have you?"
Cate was silent for a moment, processing his words. Then, quite abruptly, she turned around once more, intentionally whipping his cheek with her hair. There was a silence for a while, and then Cate finally gritted out, "I wouldn't have minded quite so much… if only she was…"
"Less than the perfect example of the female form?" Jack filled in for her, trying his best to suppress his glee. "If she had a more boyish figure, you mean, rather than that perfectly formed bosom or those long, shapely legs—which, I seem to recall that you've never even seen, but rather only caught the occasional glimpse of?" Cate refused to rise to his bait, but Jack could see she was flushing, and decided to continue. "Or a less attractive face; pox marked, perhaps. Ah, if only her eyes weren't framed by such seductively feathery lashes; if only her lips were thinner, cracked, dry, rather than the smooth, soft, supple, all-encompassing—"
"You're really not helping, you know," Cate had informed him. "And that last one is more relevant to men than it is to women."
"I'm only telling you the things which, at your current rate, you will never find out about our dear Sierra," Jack had hummed innocently, choosing to ignore the way Cate had clenched fists. "Sweetheart," he advised, wrapping an arm about her waist despite her obviously cold response, "you're never going to get her into bed if you don't start treating her nicely."
Cate had simply shrugged. "I can't help it," she said bitterly. And then, in a moment of uncharacteristic sweetness, she continued: "I… I keep telling myself, shouting at myself, 'Be nice, don't act like a complete cow,' but the moment I see her, I just…" And she spread her hands helplessly. "I just become a complete and utter bitch. I'm always like this whenever I'm around somebody who I actually… Well, let's just say that I've the same amount of romantic diplomacy as my brother," she added, and he saw the ghost of a smile gracing her lips. "If only she didn't have such perfect breasts; I wouldn't be so distracted if her bosom was less than worthy of Venus herself."
The sentiment was sweet and sincere enough; the wording perhaps needed a little more work.
Jack had kissed her cheek then, and if anyone had been around to witness it, they would have been surprised to see that the kiss was purely platonic; a kiss shared amongst close friends, not lovers, as everyone had naturally assumed them to be, but which is in fact utter nonsense. For you see, the two pirates could only ever be at most close friends (despite their lascivious activities), for Cate was what is known in modern terms as a lesbian, and she was merely using her body to ensure that she had a place on Jack's ship, alongside her brother, a fairy by the name of Flavio, which wasn't actually his real name at all.
(And it goes without saying that he was more than willing to use his own body in place of Cate's, which Cate had expressly forbidden, deeming such relations as sinful and unnatural. These beliefs are not in any way hypocritical; she simply didn't like the idea of her beloved brother with a man, as he did get hurt rather easily, and would complain for days afterwards, and he had an annoying habit of relieving his conquests in rather graphic detail, and there are a million other reasons Cate had for preferring her brother to remain celibate, but this bracket has gone on for long enough.)
Now, where were we? Ah yes, Cate's sexual preferences, and her shameless indulgence in prostitution (she actually once was a whore, but that's slightly irrelevant to this tale). Jack had suspected, from the very moment that he had first met Cate, that she was a tribade; she didn't fall for his boyish charms and give herself to him on the spot, which was always a sign that there was something wrong with a woman. He'd been puzzled at how she had appeared rather friendly yet apparently didn't find him at all attractive, but it wasn't until she had first lain eyes on Sierra, of whom the captain had stupidly said a great many wonderful things about, some of which had basis in truth, and Jack had seen the look that had passed briefly across her face, that he began to suspect (rather gleefully) the real reason that she barely glanced at him.
It wasn't until, later that night, when he had her thoroughly liquored up, that she had let slip her Sapphic inclinations, and had been so mortified to have revealed her 'unnatural' feelings to an utter stranger, that she had literally slept with him on the spot, very probably to disprove her tribadism, although Jack wasn't fooled for an instant. She continued to warm his bed, and would have been most contented with just being his mistress, but the two sailors had inevitably developed a swift and unlikely friendship, and she had slowly, willingly unmasked her true nature. Jack's immediate thought was that this preference for members of the same sex must have run in the family, and Cate had frowned when he'd put this theory forth to her.
Cate jumped suddenly in his arms, startling Jack out of his recollections, and stamped her bare foot in exasperation. Jack looked down at her scowling features before turning his head towards the door, and nearly cried out in despair, for there stood Father Dickinson, holding out an upturned palm and gloating.
"Do forgive my intrusion, Captain," the priest had said, stepping completely into the cabin and slamming the door shut behind him, "but I've suddenly remembered why it was that I needed so desperately to speak with you in the first place. Remember how I was telling you that the majority of your crew were shameless unrepentant sinners damned to an eternity of fiery torment?"
Jack sighed exasperatedly into Cate's soft hair. "Yes, Father Dickinson, I do indeed recall that…" he admitted glumly whilst silently wondering what he had to do to get a government-funded fuck around here.
"Well…" Father Dickinson continued, marching happily towards the platonically sexual couple, "I had first entered your cabin with a proposal for you which, with your consent, would hopefully cleanse your crew's filthy souls, hearts, and minds." He stopped in front of them, motioning with his hand that Cate, who was in the middle of slipping away and leaving the two men to discuss whatever it was that they discussed, to stay.
Jack raised a questioning eyebrow as Cate stood obediently by his shoulder. "Oh really, Father?" he'd asked, more out of politeness than anything else. "Do tell us, as I'm rather concerned that if you do not you may explode all over my cabin, and with all the effort that I've made to tidy it, it'll be rather a shame if I had to begin all over again, wouldn't it?"
"Well, you," he addressed Jack happily, "are the captain, the crew's leader; the crew look to you for guidance. You are an example to them all; a paragon of perfection to which they all aspire to."
Jack simply shrugged at this flowery compliment. "Well, they're only human," he modestly noted.
"This is why I have put so much time and effort into cleansing your soul, your heart, your entire way of life—if the crew see you as a good and pious Christian, leading a good and Christian life, they will therefore be content to follow your example." He turned to Cate at this point, beaming widely down at her. "My dear, are you a Christian woman?"
Cate seemed caught off guard at so random an enquiry. "Well, I suppose Flavio and I are technically Catholics…" she admitted uneasily.
Dickinson's smile only widened, and he shook his head. "Catholics aren't Christians, my dear," he said to her before turning back to Jack. "As I was saying, if you were to lead a good and Christian life… Why, I am here to help you both lead a good and Christian way of life…"
And he surprised the two pirates, who were both 'technically' Catholics (although Cate didn't believe in God, and Jack likewise was a proud atheist, choosing to return to religion only when it suited him), by gently taking them both by the hand, and slowly, symbolically, bringing their two hands together so that Jack's larger palm was resting over Cate's delicate white fingers, grinning crookedly at the two of them.
"And what better start," he concluded happily, "to a good, honest, virtuous Christian life, than by taking a newly-Christian wife?"
TO BE CONTINUED
AN: I probably should have mentioned at the beginning that there was some femmeslash involved, but then it would have ruined the surprise; and besides, the title did kind of give it away, so you can't exactly accuse me of not giving a warning…