AN: We see a new, emotionally-unbalanced, foul-mouthed Sierra in this one; shouting, yelling, crying… And it only gets worse…

How My Perfect Life Was Inverted

Chapter Forty-Nine: A Goodbye Kiss

"Bollocks," Jack cursed suddenly, all but pushing me away from him. I gasped in a mixture of surprise and pain, my hands reaching down to push my skirts back over my knees as I stood. Erin also cried out in alarm, and drew away.

"What's wrong?" I asked him, my arms unconsciously wrapped protectively about myself.

"She stole my bloody purse!"

"What?"

"Pearl!" Jack snapped at me, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "She picked my pocket! That little—"

I darted forwards, clapping my hand firmly over his mouth before he could say anything that would destroy my love for him forever. "You did deserve it," I reminded him as he fell silent. "You did say she should steal money rather than ask for it."

"From complete strangers!" Jack exploded, pushing me away from him once more. "Not from her own father!" And his hand fell to rest on the handle of his sword before he hesitated, clearly thinking better of it. With barely a glance at either Erin or myself, he started towards the door, but I grabbed his arm, anchoring him to the spot.

"You said you'd stay with me," I pleaded as he turned his smouldering gaze upon my face. "I don't want to do this alone!"

Jack paused for a moment, silent as he attempted to decide which was more important to him: me, or his handful of coins. "Sorry, sweetheart," he said after a relatively short pause. "I've a moral lesson to teach." And without another word, he wrenched his arm out of my grip and practically pulled the door off of its hinges, slamming it behind him. I had only just repressed my tears over Pearl's unhappy fate, and to have Jack leave me so suddenly brought my emotions bubbling back to the surface. With a strangled sob, I tightened my arms about myself and sank back to the floor, my head bowed as warm tears streamed down my face.

Presently, I felt Erin's fleeting touch upon my shoulder, heard her gentle voice ask if I was alright.

"I don't know," I whispered, my trembling fingers reaching up to wipe at my eyes before turning to look at her as I pushed my hair away from my face. "I've always been a very emotional person, I'm afraid," I told her with a shaky smile, attempting to repress my sobs and somewhat succeeding. Erin's eyes were serene in their understanding, and merely looking at her allowed me to absorb some of that tranquillity.

"I just… I wanted someone to be with me," I confessed, feeling childish as I spoke. "As moral support, I suppose…"

Erin seemed to hesitate before saying quietly, "I can ask Anamaria—" she began, but I held up my hand and shook my head.

"I wanted Jack," I admitted. "He's seen me naked; Ana hasn't."

Erin shrugged nonchalantly at this. "Fair enough," she observed, "but I doubt he'll be back."

I nodded at this, and sighed as I moved back to lie on the rumpled sheet on the floor. Erin followed me, and I averted my eyes as I saw a long object flash in her hands.

"Are you alright, my dear?" she queried politely as I hiked up my skirts once more, and I quietly assured her that I was, squeezing my eyes tightly shut.


"What do you mean, it's still in there?" I asked Erin shrilly as I watched her wash the blood off her hands. "Are you saying that I've been lying there in pain for half a fucking hour whilst you've been poking around with a syringe or whatever, and I'm still carrying this fucking baby?"

"You'll make such a loving mother," a voice commented, and I whirled around to see Jack leaning casually against the door, arms folded across his chest as he watched me raging at the abortionist.

"And where the fuck have you been?" I turned on him, and could have sworn I heard Erin sigh in relief. "How long have you been standing there for?"

Jack opened his mouth, as though to reply, but I refused to offer him the chance to explain himself.

"The least you could have done was uphold your promise and stay with me for a few minutes, you useless ass!" I continued to rage. "It's your own fault I'm here in the first place!"

"No, it isn—" But I wouldn't allow him to protest either; my unhappiness at my hopeless situation had, in the last five minutes, transformed into a blazing tirade fuelled by anger, and at that very moment I couldn't help but hold Jack accountable for everything that had ever happened to me.

"You always seem to be fucking leaving me!" I seethed. "You were willing to leave me in Tortuga; you're fucking happy to leave me to rot on the streets here, and—"

I was cut off as his lips crushed brutally against my own, and attempted to pull away, but his arms wrapped about my waist and pulled me closer, ignoring my struggles. My hands pushed resolutely against his shoulders, determined as I was to force him away from me; he responded by forcing his tongue pass my lips, and for a moment I thought maliciously of biting him; but then I felt his fingers gently massaging my lower back, and felt myself felt myself slowly relaxing in spite of myself. Eventually, my resistance faded, and I merely stood there, unresponsive to his touch, but unable to pull away.

When he drew away, I found myself leaning into his arms, head resting on his shoulder, and though my anger hadn't faded completely, I still found myself incapable of relinquishing this contact with him. "I hate you," I told him sullenly, "but I still can't let you go." I saw out of the corner of my eye the telltale glint of gold, and then his fingers tilted my chin upwards and he was kissing me once more. Once again, I refused to react, choosing to simply stand there until he tired of kissing a statue.

It took him a while, but he eventually grew bored of my lacking response; I felt his breath against my lips as he sighed in irritation, and then he had the gall—the bloody gall!—to look into my eyes and ask, "Is something wrong?"

You can only imagine what my reaction to that would be; and this time, a few choice kisses didn't appease me in the slightest. Only when Erin had pulled Jack away and all but threw him out of the door did my screaming subside, and I fiddled with my blouse in embarrassment.

"It… it's still in me, then?" I asked her tamely.

"All the water's done, at best, is loosen it," Erin calmly informed me.

"So it could still be alive?" I blurted out, my stomach writhing in anticipation.

The woman's reply was to look straight into my eyes. "Would it please you if it were?"

I closed my eyes and looked away.

"It probably is dead, though," she told me gently. "But one can never be sure until—"

"I don't want you to… continue," I told her desperately. "I know that I should; I know that it's—it's—well, unhygienic, to say the least, but… It'll pass through eventually thought, wouldn't it?"

"Eventually," Erin agreed, "but I'd much rather—"

"I don't want you shoving a—a fire poker or whatever the hell that is up my—" I began, then sighed. "There are just some places where you just don't expect to find a fire poker!"

"It is not a fire poker!" Erin snapped. "Why would I need such an item in Jamaica, in any case?"

"So we're agreed, then," I said, brushing down my skirt and edging away. "Neither of us want to continue; the baby's dead, it'll slip out when it wants to—"

"I don't think it's very safe—"

"So we don't really have to—"

"Sierra," she told me warningly, and I fell silent at her voice.

For a moment.

"Erin…" I said to her, desperately, "I really don't want to finish… It's as if I'm… I feel like…"

"It'll be out by tomorrow morning," she told me, and I looked at her in disbelief.

"That soon?" I asked, and she nodded.

"Yes."

"So I don't really have to stay here for any longer?" I queried, and she shook her head.

"No, my dear; you don't; but you may want to sit down for a few minutes…"

And she proceeded to tell me everything about Jack and Teresa that I had ever wanted to know.


"Go back onto your pot," Jack was saying as he nudged Teresa's calico cat with his foot, apparently unaware of my storming out of the hut. "Go on, there's a good—you rotten bastard!" he yelped as the cat sunk a clawed paw into his boot.

I heard Teresa's insane cackling, and then she said, in obvious delight, "Oh, Jack, the Gods have answered—Susan the Happy Trotting Elflike But Tediously Normal Human Being With Abnormally Large Breasts will be spending all of eternity with the well-endowed Stephen Verne."

"But it's not dead," Jack argued, giving the poor feline a kick. "You said that if it fell out of the branches of this tree and dies, then she'll be spending all of eternity with Verne—But the git's still alive!"

"It's died in spirit," Teresa intoned knowingly. "By allowing the cat to have fallen out of the tree , the Gods are declaring the abandonment of the cat in question; therefore, it is as good as dead, and I don't care if the coconuts say otherwise!"

I marched determinedly over to Teresa and slapped her; causing Jack to stare in disbelief.

"Did you sleep with her too?" he asked me as Teresa, hand pressed firmly against her cheek, staggered backwards.

"Why'd you say that?" I asked him as I watched the woman burst into tears.

"Well, in my own personal experience, a woman only ever slaps another if that person had in fact bedded them."

I glared at him, and turned away, darting towards Teresa and grabbing her firmly by the wrist. "We need to talk," I said to her, and dragged her away to the other side of the hut.

"I know," I told her when we'd stopped.

"You know?" she asked fearfully. "Know what?"

"What you think I don't know," I replied. "What you don't want me to know; well, I do hate to burst your bubble, but I do know, and I find it appalling."

"I didn't mean to eat the coconut!" she cried, on the verge of tears. "It was just there!"

"Not the coconut!" I snapped back. "The curse!"

"What curse?" she queried, and I rolled my eyes.

"The curse where you drag a woman from the future, force her to fall in love with a man she normally wouldn't have, and then take him away from her! The one where you ruin some harmless woman's life forever!" I yelled.

To my surprise, Teresa burst into tears.

"Oh, what's wrong now?" I snapped as she wrapped her arms about herself and sobbed.

"I… I never meant to… to ruin anyone's life," she wailed before throwing herself at me. "What do you mean, I'm ruining her life?"

I looked coldly down at her. "My life," I said softly, and she quietened. "You're ruining my life. For revenge on Jack."

"But…" she stuttered. "But you're not…"

"I am."

"But you can't be…"

"I am," I assured her, and she continued to look up at me in that childlike way of hers. "And I want you to know that… That I hate you for it. And that it isn't fair on me."

"But you're an elf…"

"For God's sake!" I muttered, wrenching my arm from out of her grip. "Listen to me, Teresa!"

She suppressed her sobs, and looked up at me once more.

"If you have a heart…" I began, "And I'm sure that you do, somewhere—You'd undo this… spell of yours. You'll allow Jack to die of his own natural causes, and you'd send me back to where I belong—" I stopped suddenly as Pearl's blue eyes flashed before me, and heard a mocking voice ask, How can you possibly live without Pearl?

"But you're not her," she told me. "You're not; you can't be; you're too normal."

"Or…" I said hurriedly, ignoring her, Pearl's sweetly beautiful face still hovering before my vision, "you'll let her stay. You'll cast another spell and let her stay. And she'll be given custody of the child of her choice."

"Make up your mind," she said to me, disgruntled. "Are you Susan, or are you this nameless woman—which you aren't yet claim to be?" And it was only then that I realised I had referred to myself in third person.

I shook my head slightly, and looked into her wide brown eyes.

"I'm Sierra," I told her slowly. "And I want you to undo what you did, and do it quickly."

"You've no right to tell me what to do," she sniffed arrogantly. "You're not out of place, nor are you out of time; you belong here. I know you do; the pixies know you do, the bastards."

I closed my eyes and stamped my foot in frustration.

"Fine!" I snapped at her. "So I'm not this woman from the future! So I'm Susan the bloody trotting elf!"

"Happy," she corrected sullenly, and I glared at her.

"That doesn't change that what you did was wrong," I continued, crossing my arms over my body. "You're taking this innocent, susceptible, vulnerable girl and you're putting her in this—this cold, harsh, foreign world where everything is dark and the motto of the time is 'free for all, one for all'—how do you think she's going to feel, trapped in this strange where everything is primitive and nothing is as it seems? When she's all alone, scared, defenceless, willing to accept anyone, anything, just for a shadow of security? Have you ever thought of that?" I continued, hating myself for expressing my helplessness so uncompromisingly.

Teresa was silent, and all she could do was look at me, and I realised suddenly that no, she hadn't; she hadn't realised that she was toying with a human's life, a human's feelings. In some ways she was like a child; a child with a doll set. All she did was play, and I realised suddenly that, like a child, she never truly meant to hurt anyone. (With the exception of Jack, but he did deserve it.)

My abhorrence for the woman melted away at the shocked expression on her face; I reached out and gently touched her shoulder with my fingers. "I think you know what to do," I said softly; and then, picking up my skirts, I silently made my way back to the hut, where Jack was now attempting to tie the cat to the 'tree' with some stray string.

"Look!" he beamed brightly at me, pointing at the spitting animal. "It's stayed, Sierra; it's stayed!"

There was something about him—his eyes, his voice, his smile—that reminded me uncompromisingly of a child once more, and it paid homage to my maternal nature that I felt whatever mild loathing I had for him evaporate into the air about me.

"I see," I murmured when I reached him, and reached up to kiss the corner of his mouth. The pirate started in surprise, but then smiled, clearly pleased that his irresistibility had been proven beyond a shadow of a doubt.

"Good, God," I said as I looked about us, my arms wrapping themselves about his muscled waist as I scanned the deserted territory, "Where did everybody go?"

"Back to the Pearl," Jack replied. He was about to elaborate, but I interrupted him.

"And what of Pearl?" I half-accused, and he sighed in palpable exasperation. "I expected her to be here waiting for me."

"She saw me, squeaked, and ran away with the boy and Forrester's girl," Jack said to me nonchalantly. "Forrester's in hot pursuit."

I frowned. "When did he and Mary get back?" I interrogated.

"Don't know," he said with an effortless shrug. "He was just… there. Suddenly. Unexpectedly. Without any prior warning—"

"I get the gist, Jack," I interrupted him as he began to ramble. "Listen, um… There's something I really needed to talk to you about," and Jack groaned.

"If it's about that bloody baby—"

"It's gone," I lied easily—well, it was supposedly dead. "The baby's gone—but I am talking about one of your illegitimate issue."

Jack looked curiously at me, his head tilted.

"Pearl," I elaborated, looking up into his eyes. "I want to… adopt… Pearl. In Forrester's place."

Jack merely stared at me for a long moment and closed his eyes.

"Sweetheart, I know you're fond of her, but—"

"I will be able to support her!" I interjected desperately. "No Jack, don't look at me like that—I won't have to take to the streets. I… Well, Jean-Fran—" I began, and Jack pulled a face and made a noise of disgust, causing me to fall silent as I glared at him.

"Jean's told that I look like a missing aristocrat," I continued when Jack's antipathy had somewhat faded.

"That's the oldest line in the book," Jack commented, and I frowned at him.

"He means it—And don't you remember that time that you—we—were attacked by the French, and they saw me and… You don't, do you?" I sighed at Jack's nonplussed expression. "Never mind. Well, Jean said that, you know, since I can speak French fluently and because I look so much like her that… Well, since she's probably dead, I may as well take her place, and seeing how I don't really have any other options…" I trailed off, studying his face intently. For some reason, I was waiting for Jack's… Well, his advice, which was, I suppose, understandable, as was his opinion, for was that not unequivocally linked to his advice?

There was, however, no excuse for my desiring his approval, though.

Jack was quiet for a moment, appearing to be simultaneously lost in thought and gazing at me intently.

"I'm not asking you a direct question," I pointed out to him.

"All the better, as I've no intention of providing you with a direct answer," Jack shot back at me. We stood like that for a moment, arms wrapped loosely about each other, before a heavily weeping Teresa suddenly appeared, arms wrapped about herself as she sobbed her dark eyes out. Erin appeared immediately even as Jack began to move away from me, wrapping her arms tightly about her stepdaughter and murmuring words of comfort. I winced and fiddled with my skirt as I saw the two of them hold each other, guilt washing through me as I realised that I was the cause of the heartrending scene.

"Sierra?" Jack queried as Erin gently guided Teresa back inside the hut. "Methinks it time we leave."

"Hmm," I hummed in agreement even as the man steered me away from the hut and back to the docks. "Yes, I suppose you're right."

"And besides, the sooner we return to my ship, the sooner you can seduce me before Father Dickinson," Jack commented nonchalantly, and I frowned at this.

"I'm sorry?"

"Or Cate," Jack amended quickly with a smugly knowing grin. "Whichever you prefer?"

It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him why, exactly, but then I recalled how he and the blonde were supposedly 'married,' and I sighed.

"You don't have to do very much," Jack continued regardless, and I rolled my eyes. "Just a lascivious kiss in a place Dickinson can view with relatively few—if any—obstructions. Although of course, you're welcome to do more…"

I closed my eyes and reached up to massage my head as I drew away from him. "Exactly what do you want me to do, Jack? Kiss Cate?" I asked, and he nodded frantically. I scowled at his almost desperate response and stepped out of his grip completely, choosing to walk silently beside him.

Kiss Cate? I fumed in disbelief. Exactly what did this man take me for? Did he honestly expect me to kiss Cate, with her flowing golden hair, her gemlike eyes, her abnormally pale, unflawed skin? Cate, with her easy grace, her slender legs, and her cruelly beautiful smile?

Kiss Cate?

Somehow, I didn't think so; she may be beautiful, but she was also, of course, a bitch—and a bitch who hated me at that. Even if I wanted to, I wouldn't have stood a chance.


The relatively short journey back to the Black Pearl was rather uneventful; Jack abandoned all attempts at manipulating me into conducting a lesbian affair with his current lover, brought up Jean's aristocratic plan, and assured me that he supported the idea. Not once did he mention anything about Pearl, and when I tried to raise the subject of his daughter's custody, he merely brushed it aside with characteristic nonchalance.

But when I stepped onto the ebony ship for what I realised was probably the last time, I was greeted with a shock that sent a shiver of horror down my spine. Cate, Jack's supposed 'wife,' had taken to dangling Father Dickinson by his ankles from the mast, and I watched with mounting dread as the blonde approached us at her captain's orders. Turning away from the couple, I murmured softly that I would be fetching my few measly belongings, and hurried below decks as fast as I could lest I witness a gesture of affection pass between the two of them.

Only when the sun was no longer beating down upon my head did I allow myself to cry once more, my hands clinging desperately to the railing as I moved slowly down the steps. Only now did the full realisation of what was happening—that I would never see Jack nor his ship again, that I'd be spending the rest of my life with complete strangers—sink in, and considering how my day was already highly emotionally charged, it didn't take much more to unleash my tears in a flood of sorrow, and I soon found myself sinking to the floor, seated precariously on the wooden stairs with my head in my hands as I cried continuously.

I was uncertain of how long I had sat there, weeping in self-pity, but soon I felt a hand on my knee, shaking me gently, and then I heard Jean's voice telling me harshly to get a hold of myself. I looked up at him, shakily wiping at my eyes, and gasped in surprise as I felt a heavy cloth package thrown into my lap. Looking down, I realised that the bag in question was one of my own, crammed with my few menial belongings in this world, and I clung tightly to the sack, telling myself to stop crying.

Eventually, my stream of tears was staunched, and after carefully wiping at my face, I looked up at the impatient Frenchman and allowed myself to be unpityingly pulled to my feet.

"Je vous déteste," I said to him harshly, but all the man did was turn me around and push me back up the stairs.

When I'd emerged on deck, I was surprised to see that Jack literally had his hands full with comforting the sobbing Father Dickinson, whose feet were now firmly on the ground—literally speaking, of course. Jean steered me carefully to the railing, clearly determined to leave the Pearl as soon as was possible, but Jack, having decided to abandon Dickinson, approached us, much to my secret pleasure.

"Are… Are you two really married?" I queried as I looked suspiciously at Dickinson, who had taken to shaking his fist and calling me a thousand unrepeatable things whilst Jean melted into the background, as was his wont.

"Of course we are," Jack confirmed with the air of one who was constantly telling the truth yet still remained known as a liar. "Why?"

"I… I just thought…" I stammered before meekly concluding, "I thought you were lying."

Jack's eyebrows rose. "Why would I lie about being married?" he asked me incredulously, and I bit my tongue to refrain myself from providing him the obvious answer to his almost innocuous question.

"I just… naturally assumed that you wanted to get me into bed," I replied, and Jack's expression seemed to almost imperceptibly change into one of agreement.

"Oh," I said in my truly acerbic wit, a hand reaching up to lightly touch my head. "Oh Jack…" I almost cried—again. I bit my inner cheek and silently told myself to stay in control, glancing about me and registering dimly that my belongings were being lowered into a waiting boat. "Do you like it?" I asked stupidly, unable to say much more.

"Being married?" he queried, and I nodded. "It's…" he cleared his throat and closed his eyes, as though in pain. "…Tolerable," he finished almost pathetically.

"You told me it was invalid!" I snapped at him, hiding behind my mask of annoyance.

"It is!" Jack told me, attempting to grab my hand, but I drew away, turning and spotting a silent Cate watching us, an enigmatic expression on her face. Bile rose in my throat at the mere sight of her, and I instantly cast my gaze elsewhere.

Jack told me that he had been forced to marry Cate, I recalled bitterly as I stood on the deck, the gentle breeze blowing my hair into my face. He also told me that the pretty pirate didn't actually want to be married to him either. So what the hell was the problem?

It seemed to me that I should ask the pirate directly.

"So why—" I began, turning to look at the captain, but was unfortunately interrupted by Cate, who, clearly unhappy with the supposedly intimate tableau Jack and I presented, had sashayed forwards in that confident, predatory way of hers.

"Dickinson thinks it's valid," she said, forcing me to step back from her husband. "The crew thinks it's valid; beliefs which have caused my dear husband—" and she paused in her explanation to give her husband a quick but affectionate peck on his lips. "…Much distress," she finished, her head resting on his shoulder, and my stomach writhed in jealousy as I realised just how… perfectly they seemed to go together. They were physical opposites, and yet they were alike, and the vibrant clash of their distinctive colourings just seemed to… fit. To balance each other out.

They were equals, I realised as I stared at the pair of them. And that was something that I could never be with Jack.

"…I see," I said at last, my voice quiet as this sudden realisation dawned on me, and found myself holding back tears once again. Unable to see more, I cast my eyes back to Father Dickinson, who had just concluded that in addition to be a succubus, witch, and overpriced whore, I was also a petty shoplifter, and I looked at the priest for a moment longer until I was certain I wouldn't weep. Then, and only then, did I return my gaze to Jack, choosing to deliberately ignore Mrs. Sparrow.

"The sooner we return to my ship, the sooner you can seduce me before Father Dickinson… Or Cate. Whichever you prefer."

He doesn't actually want to be married to her.

"Is this what your request of a goodbye kiss is all about?" I asked suddenly as the sudden thought struck me, and I looked urgently into his eyes. "To convince Dickinson to annul your marriage?"

The pirate nodded vigorously, and by some odd miracle, my playful sense of humour was restored.

"I see," I purred, stepping closer to the unhappily married couple, and this time it was Cate's turn to step away, which she did with some difficulty, moving away only a few inches whilst she watched us in distrust. "Jack…" I said, attempting to ignore the way her eyes, no doubt brimming with loathing jealousy, bore into me.

"I'm going to be climbing down into that boat in a moment," I told him breathily, my lips nearly brushing his own, and felt the smug triumph upon realising that he was concentrated upon our ghost of a kiss and very little else. "So I suppose this is our goodbye… Isn't it?" I almost whispered, my hands reaching up to finger what was once the collar of his shirt. Beside us, I heard Cate release a cry of pained outrage… But Jack seemed to be oblivious to his wife's distress.

"I assume so," Jack murmured, beginning to slowly move closer—

But I pulled swiftly away, giggling in delight at his… innocence.

"Oh, Jack…" I laughed as he jerked suddenly away, looking at me inquisitively. "Jack…" I said again, deliberately patronising, and I allowed myself to look straight into his brown eyes.

"You really are quite naïve, aren't you?" I asked rhetorically. Before he, or indeed anyone, had a chance to comment or query my cryptic words, I dashed forward once more, my arm wrapping about a slender, lightly-muscled waist whilst my fingers twisted and buried themselves into a loose mass of soft, silky hair, almost clawing at the skull.

My only regret was that I couldn't see the expression on Jack's face as I brought my lips to Cate's in a crushing, merciless kiss.

-x!x-

AN: For those of you who are interested, I've got a short story up entitled , which sheds some light on Jack's respective relationships with Cate, Father Dickinson… and to a certain extent, Mr. Cotton's parrot. It also explains how Jack and Cate ended up "married" as well.