Disclaimer: I do not have permission to be writing this.

AN (5/31): It's yearbook day! Woo! I have to give a speech on Thursday. I think I might die between now and then.

(6/3): Well, I didn't die. And I'm all graduated! Woot! Sorry it took me so long to update...I had this done quite a while ago.

Chapter Six: Opera and "Bliss"

He was a sensation. Everyone who was anyone was talking about him. He was more popular now than ever before. Of course, no one knew his real name. Which was a very good thing. Whoever heard of a pirate as infamous as Jack Sparrow singing opera?

It just defied reason, as it should. He'd given Faith the last name of Moineau (French for Sparrow; he'd been too embarrassed by her drooling praise to think of anything more creative in a tight spot when she'd been insisting on knowing his last name) after they'd finished singing together. Apparently she really liked his voice. After she insisted he sign a contract to be at her opera house for at least a season, she'd finally pulled him into her rather cushy bed.

If Jack had known women would go wild over his best singing voice, he would have started singing sweet notes to them long ago.

At least, that was his thought to begin with.

Now it was just annoying. After he preformed, he was always mobbed by women anxious to bear his children or at least get a glimpse of him. They all wanted him to sing, like some sort of trained monkey. Jack almost felt like a snake charmer he'd seen in India. When he sang, it was so easy to get women to spend the night with him it was just stupid.

He was sick of it.

Sure he met a lot of beautiful women singing; but he was bored. He wanted the sea again. She was his true love, not all of the drooling fans he had. Being famous certainly wasn't all it was cracked up to be. At least when he'd been an infamous pirate, his admirers had kept their distance.

Something had to be done. Jack couldn't keep this up much longer. That's why he'd hatched an absolutely brilliant (and extremely dangerous) plan to get out of his contract and forget about ever being Jack Moineau, the brilliant tenor that was an expert lover and an all-around nice guy, even though his accent was quite common and he had an odd tendency to over-express himself through his superfluous hand motions. Everyone was willing to overlook the one strand of his dark hair sporting a few beads. Mere eccentricity. Wearing kohl off stage was excused as well. People who knew Jack Sparrow were fooled into thinking Moineau was a very distant relation or someone with an uncanny resemblance. It was disgusting, how much people would forgive their idols.

It left Jack wondering how people could be so stupid, frankly. They were holding a viper to their bosom, as the hackneyed phrase goes. While he seemed like quite a fantastic person, he generally picked the pockets of the people who mobbed around him. Trying to save up for a ship, you see. If he could get a ship, he could get his Pearl back. That's all that mattered.

Unfortunately, he couldn't stand it anymore. He'd only saved enough for approximately half of a decent sloop (depending on the day) and knew that he needed something substantially bigger to go after Barbossa. He needed more money. But he didn't care.

"You do realize that this will cause quite the sensation, don't you?"

"Of course I do," Jack replied simply, examining his fingernails as though they were the most interesting thing in the world. "Tha's the point."

"Oh." Kenneth glanced at Jack's fingernails as well. Kenneth was the other tenor who generally played the antagonist in the operas they preformed because his range was slightly lower and he wasn't as attractive as Jack. He was a good friend; one of the few opera "elite" Jack could actually stand to be around these days. Faith was far too jealous of his success amongst the ladies and was quite possessive of him; therefore, she was to be avoided. He liked to avoid her about as much as he liked to talk to Kenneth. Kenneth's greenish eyes suddenly were hit by inspiration and started glowing, accordingly. "That's why you put that scene in there, isn't it?"

Jack nodded. "Aye. Jus' make sure you actually load it. An' practice your shooting." He smiled lightly and looked at Kenneth for a moment. "Thank you."

"My pleasure, Jack," Kenneth replied. "You do realize you're brilliant, right? I mean, if you just let us do your opera a few times... you'll be rich."

"Can't stand this anymore." Jack frowned slightly. "I need t' get away from here. I'm not meant t' be a tenor or a lyricist or wha'ever the heck I am now. I'm a pirate."

"Simply said," Kenneth replied softly. "Thanks for all the help, though." Jack was more than simply a brilliant tenor. He had written the lyrics to an entire opera (not many existed) that was sure to fascinate audiences. Kenneth wrote the music, much to Jack's relief (he could barely read it) and had been with Jack every step of the way on this project. His plan was sure to make it that much more memorable, too.

Jack didn't think the opera was all that good, but he did have a head for lyrics and had been able to give Kenneth a fairly rough melody to go off of when composing the music. Some thought it was natural talent, but Jack thought the only reason he could sing music at all was because of the song constantly in his head. Jack was very melodic because of his unusual stride and all of the trinkets jingling away in his hair. Kenneth had just helped him put all those swirling ideas in his head on paper.

Jack shrugged slightly. "Tonight. Durin' the climax. Remember tha' you din' think it was loaded."

Kenneth nodded, looking quite worried. "Are you sure?" This was not only dangerous for Jack, but it was dangerous for Kenneth as well. He would have to pretend that he'd had no idea the gun was loaded, otherwise... Well, he didn't want to think about it.

"Positive. I'll be fine." It really was probably true, that he'd be all right. Jack was able to survive a lot more than he really ought to, over the past few weeks. He'd gone through a self destructive mood for a bit. Kenneth had helped him then, too. He smirked slightly and grasped Kenneth's hand in a friendly manner for a moment. "Doin' me a real favor, you know."

"Yes." Kenneth smiled slightly. "But I don't think New Orleans wants to see you get antsy to leave. Besides... you introduced me to Neveah. It's the least I can do, to help."

Jack nodded. "Aye. Can't forget Neveah." He laughed softly. Neveah was one of his discarded flings, actually. But she and Kenneth seemed happy together, so he was glad they'd met. Another thing to be disgusted about himself over. Not only was he an opera singer, he was a lyricist, a lover, a nice guy, and a matchmaker. His mother would probably roll around in her grave, if she knew.

Kenneth smiled and laughed softly back before standing up. "Well, I need to go and warm up. For tonight. It's going to be fantastic."

"Don't I know it?" Jack asked softly, laughing to himself. It would be. Everyone would be talking about Jack Moineau, after tonight. Pity he had to give up the name completely, but this was for the best. "Go warm up."

Kenneth nodded and stood, leaving Jack all by himself back stage. Jack watched him leave and then started pacing around, pausing every once in a while to touch some random piece of scenery. He didn't want to preform this. He didn't want to. No one in their right mind would like it. The Precarious Pirate wasn't interesting. And he would mess up all of his music. He'd hit a wrong note.

As he was being assaulted by doubt, the door opened and a lovely women stepped back stage. "Jack?" she asked softly, gently tapping him on the shoulder as he paused.

Jack jumped, startled by the sudden contact. "What?" he asked, regaining his normal calm and slightly stand-offish demeanor.

"Are you all right?" Faith asked, glancing at him in concern. "You look like you did the first time you preformed in front of an audience."

"I'm fine," Jack said indifferently, gently brushing her hand off his shoulder. Faith was a nice woman. He didn't want her to think that he actually felt anything towards her. That would just be cruel. Jack hated men who gave women that notion.

"Oh." She looked distinctly disappointed, but kept her distance. "Don't worry. It's brilliant."

"Thanks," Jack replied. There was a very awkward silence as Faith tried to show her love for him through her eyes. "I...uh... Shouldn't you be getting ready, luv? Wouldn' do any good if the leading lady wasn' in costume."

She sighed softly, her eyes shimmering slightly as she realized she'd been rejected long ago. "Yes. I'll... I'll go get dressed, then. Alone."

"Generally a good way t' get dressed," Jack said lightly, trying to keep that look out of her eyes. Jack didn't like seeing women get hurt. That's why he left so early in the morning, when he spent the night with them.

"Yes," she said heavily, abruptly turning around and fleeing from his presence to prepare for tonight. There went her dreams of marrying her knight in armor.

"Lover-you finished yet?" Pâquerette asked, yawning to emphasize her boredom. She was lazing about up on the bridge of the Phallic Destroyer, looking quite bored as she watched Jack swab the deck all by himself.

He didn't answer.

She frowned and set her wine goblet (full of the finest cognac) down. "Answer me," she commanded in a terribly low voice.

"Do I—no." Jack was losing his mind. He was so sick of doing her bidding all the time. It made him feel dirty. Like he wasn't himself anymore. These past two months of wedded "bliss" were starting to take their toll on him. He was getting thin and had a gaunt and haunted look to his face. It made him almost look unattractive. Of course, the only way to make Jack Sparrow unattractive would be to cut his face completely off. But he was starting to fight her commands. For about three seconds. At least it was an improvement to his immediate obeying from before.

Pâquerette sighed and dropped her now-empty goblet down from the bridge onto the deck. It shattered into a thousand sharp and angry pieces. "I do wish you'd say more than one word, Jack. We are married, after all. And you're stuck with me." She laughed slightly and pointed towards the broken shards on the deck. "Clean those."

Jack couldn't have said anything more if he wanted to, frankly. In a fit of anger last week, Pâquerette had told him not to speak so much. He had to listen to her. As a result, he could only give short answers. She probably didn't even realize it had been a direct command.

Jack nodded and smiled sarcastically at her (she couldn't sense sarcasm from him, one thing that cheered him considerably) and immediately went to clean up the goblet.

She'd been drinking a lot. Jack wondered why (for a bit) each day, since she finally had everything she wanted. Of course, rather than admit to the fact all was not well, she blamed it on her pregnancy when he asked her about it. While he hated Pâquerette, he didn't want to harm his child and was therefore concerned over her welfare. Drinking was never good for pregnant women and it was worrying Jack. Which was why he had a nasty cut on his cheek (a self-inflicted wound Pâquerette had ordered him to give himself to make him stop looking at her reprovingly while drinking some rum) and had a few bruises on his other cheek from slaps. That was definitely the last time he tried questioning what she was doing.

"Thank you, Jack," Pâquerette said with false sincerity as he tossed the glass overboard before she ordered him to do something that satisfied the sadist monster lurking under her deceptive good looks. He'd learned a lot, over these two months of "bliss."

"No problem," Jack very nearly grunted, going back to the holystone and picking up where he'd left off.

His situation seemed quite bleak, didn't it? That fiery devil would never let him go. He needed to divorce or kill her. Those were his only options. Divorce her with the help of the devil or something.

Anything.

Having no freedom at all was looming on Jack's horizon as Pâquerette gave him more and more rules to follow.

This was the only break he got, during the day. It wasn't even really that much of a break. He was still required to cook. But it was better than straining his back swabbing the already clean decks as Pâquerette's twisted crew watched him work. Why did they all hate him? He was a pretty liberal guy, actually. Treated women surprisingly well. They should be doing this to someone else. Why did it all have to happen to him? This put a serious wrench in the works of his plan to get a ship and go after Barbossa. A plan he'd had for nearly nine years, yes. But it was still a plan. Just like Jack generally never went back on a promise, he generally never went back on a plan. He would get the Pearl back. He knew that. His will wouldn't let him give up, even though he had every reason to, at the moment.

But Pâquerette didn't watch him, to make sure he cooked like he was supposed to. She knew he would. Which was very nice. Gave Jack a chance to think for himself without his wife telling him when to think. He'd go crazy, if he had to do that all the time.

He was sitting at one of the well polished tables (his handiwork) as he waited for the soup to cook. He'd get up every once in a while and would stir it, of course, because Pâquerette didn't like it when the food was burned. No one did like burned food, so Jack really couldn't get mad at her getting so mad at him. Well, that's what he wanted to tell himself. She'd throw it all away, even if it was only slightly burned. After throwing it in his face. That hurt, depending on what he was serving. Thankfully, he was a very good cook and didn't often burn what he was cooking or stewing or baking or whatever.

"Why am I here?" he asked himself, thinking he was all alone in the galley. He generally was.

"Because you're a fool, Jack," a soft voice said from the corner. "That's why."

Something about that voice was very familiar. And he hadn't heard it in a very long time. Why was she here? And why hadn't he noticed here here before? "Always have been, though."

Jack nodded slightly. "Very true." Best not to let her know how much she was freaking him out. She couldn't really be here. She was still in New Orleans, right? Had been ever since he'd left. And she'd been doing very well, just like he'd predicted. She couldn't be here.

"Hello, Jack." She paused, obviously waiting for him to say something. He didn't. "You know, that's generally when you say hello back."

"Generally, yes." Jack smirked very slightly as he turned to face the woman that had been haunted by his face in her dreams for several years. "Faith."

"That's my name. Rather surprised you can remember it." She smiled sarcastically and slowly walked over to where he was sitting. "How did you?"

"I wouldn' be a fantastic pirate if I explained me secrets, luv." Jack shrugged apologetically. "So don' ask."

Faith bit her lip lightly for a moment and then shrugged herself. "I guess I can't demand an answer. You're a married man, now."

Jack choked back a laugh at that as he glanced down at the table. "Yeah. Only one who can demand anythin' is her."

"You deserve it, Jack." Faith's voice was incredibly bitter as she sat down across from him. "You deserve every little thing she does to you."

Jack sighed softly and stood up. "Nice t' hear that." He walked to the soup and stirred it slowly. "I mean, how would I make it through me day wivout learning I've ruined another woman's life?"

Faith wasn't as dense as Pâquerette and could recognize sarcasm from Jack when she heard it. "Stop it."

"Not a chance." Jack set the ladle down after stirring the soup, taking his seat next to Faith again. "You're the one who started it, luv. An' I'm goin' t' be the one t' finish it."

"I didn't start anything, Jack! You were the one who left." Faith's eyes were glowing dangerously. It was either from tears she was trying to hide, or from anger. Jack couldn't decide which, but the latter seemed more likely, based on the cold intonation of her voice.

If she really wanted an argument, he'd be happy to give her one. "You were the one who cared. I'm a bloody pirate. Not meant t' be stuffed into those costumes."

She really had nothing to go against that statement. No rebuttal. Time to bring out a new argument. "Jack...you ruined my life!"

"Only because you thought more o' what we had than I did." Jack smiled sardonically.

"Because you gave me all the signals!" Faith put her hands on her hips, clearly getting ready for an actual fight.

"I gave 'em to everyone, if you din' notice. Any pretty li'le thing." Jack shook his head. "I din'..." He trailed off, deciding that was too nice a thing for him to say. He should be mad at this woman. For having the gall to track him down again.

"But you saved..." She choked off for a moment and had to rub at her eyes angrily. "You saved my life, Jack. I thought I meant more to you than that."

"You thought wrong," Jack said coldly, glancing at the door. He glanced back at her and seemed to soften. "I would've liked t' get t' know ye better, luv. But you took it too seriously. Too fast." He hadn't been this honest with a woman for years.

"I..." She was completely blown away by his honesty. Thrown off balance. Like a toddler.

"I 'ave t' take food up t' me wife, Faith. It was jus' lovely, talkin' t' ye again." He stood up and got himself a bowl of soup for his wife, leaving Faith to her suddenly very confused thoughts.

Zareen: Of course I pity Jack! But he'll get out of it. No worries. Thanks for the review!
Daisy: Well, he is married to a sadist. That's kinda not cool.
Well, Erica don' 'ave homework anymore. An' she likes talkin' t' ye, despite what you think. An' maybe she needs a little worry in 'er life. Keeps her on her toes.
Sunkist3208: Star Wars is pretty awesome. And the crazy ideas just come out of my head. I must be crazy. But that's okay! Thanks for the review!
Mystic Moon Maiden: That's what I've read about the sequel, too. I can't wait. -dies of waiting-
CrazyPirateGirl: Jack should listen to Diane. And he eventually will. Thanks for the review!
Eccentric Banshee: Thanks for the review! And thank you very very much for the picture...everyone in Literature enjoyed it, whenever it was I showed it to them. Seems like ages ago.
I'm a bit of a feminist, I must admit.
Since you were the first to review, you get a cool handmade vase with fake flowers! Yay!