How My Perfect Life Was Inverted II

Chapter Ten: Epiphany

Presently I found myself seated on a hard, rickety stool at the scrubbed kitchen table, my hands clasped primly before me. Behind me I could hear the visitor fidgeting silently in the dark, whistling a low tune as he worked at lighting my lantern; another sputter, a slight flicker, and a hiss as once again the tiny flame spluttered out.

"These are useless," he muttered to no one in particular; there was a slight rattling sound that I assumed was him shaking the lantern, followed by a crash and a muttered curse.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing!"

"You broke my lamp, didn't you?"

"…A little bit, yes."

I inhaled deeply, letting my breath slowly out in a controlled sigh.

"Well, never mind that," I murmured quietly, my hands fumbling as I turned on the stool so as to face him, though I couldn't see him in the total darkness.

"It's a full moon tonight, isn't it?"

"Aye…"

"So why don't we just… pull back one of the shutters? Let the moonlight stream in through the window."

He made a grunt of agreement; I heard three steps, followed by a thud and a rattling of metallic pans that made me wince and cover my face in despair.

"Jack! I swear! You're loud enough to wake the dead!"

"Interesting how you chose to say those words with the moon so high," he commented, and I could tell from his tone that his words were a sly reference to one of his many adventures. A reference to what, I didn't know, nor did I bother to ask.

He took another three more audibly cautious steps before suddenly freezing, and I frowned.

"Jack?"

"Shush!" Only he didn't say 'shush' in so many words, but I did hear the flapping of his arm, or rather, his coat and shirt, which I assumed was an invisible indication for me to be silent.

"What?" I hissed quietly, twisting my nightgown nervously between my fingers.

"Do you hear that?"

A silence as I cocked my head, followed by a whispered, "No."

"Someone's coming."

"With the racket you're making, I'm not surprised. Go on: hide."

Light footsteps, and a callused hand wrapped itself about my wrist, tugging me onto my feet.

"Do you have shoes?"

I was hesitant, wondering if he was about to ask me to elope with him, but then decided against it.

"What, now? On me? That I'm wearing at this very moment?"

"Yeah."

"No, my feet are bare—" I was cut off by a hurriedly-muffled shriek as I was suddenly swept up into the air, slung heavily over his shoulder.

"What are you doing?" I hissed, both irritated and bemused, rising an inch or two as he shrugged.

"There's glass on the floor; now shut up and be quiet."

I clamped my mouth shut and obeyed, fisting his frockcoat as I bounced up and down in time with his hurried steps.

"Jack? Jack!" I leant down and gave his rump a hearty slap; judging by the sudden shudder and suppressed squeak, I had gained his attention. Forcing myself back up, I whispered hurriedly to him, "You didn't come here with the sole purpose of… abducting me, did you?"

I hoped I didn't sound too eager; men tend to like aggressive women, as long as they weren't overbearingly so.

Jack groaned, pausing as he rattled with what I realised was the back door, finally losing patience and simply kicking it open; an action which caused me to suppress yet another squeak as I was once again allotted an unexpected bounce.

"Let's talk of this later," he suggested as he set me down on my feet, and I saw his black silhouette turn in the silvery light as he pulled the door shut. I had barely caught a glimpse of his face before his hand was wrapped around my wrist once more, causing me to stumble and curse as he dragged me across the dusty veranda and into a corner swathed in flowers and shadows. Releasing me, he leapt over the waist-high barrier with an uncharacteristic grace, and gestured that I follow him. I, however, was wearing a long white nightgown, and had to settle for climbing clumsily over, the vines snagging at my skirt.

"For Christ's sake, woman!" he hissed, reaching out to pull me up and into his arms, apparently uncaring of the inescapable ripping sound this caused, and I knew instinctively that a good five inches had been taken off of the end of my dress.

"Jack! You—"

His hand clamped tightly over my mouth as he pulled me down into a squatting position, and, with my back pressing against his chest, ordered me to bring my knees up into my chest. And thus we sat, breathing raggedly. Then, just as I was about to shake my head out of his tight grip and reprimand him for his paranoia, I heard the door slowly creak open, followed by two sets of low, cautious footsteps, and saw before me the brightening glimmer of a golden lantern, flickering eerie shadows that leered at us from between the imported rose bushes.

The sharpest, most distinct shadow was that of a bayonet; the long, pointed edge attached to the barrel was particularly clear, and I felt my heart leap as I realised that if the guards were to look over the edge, they would have absolutely no hesitation in driving that slender dagger into Jack's skull if they were to see me pulled into his lap, my mouth covered as though he wished to prevent me from crying out.

And they were going to lean over and look; I heard one of the men whisper to the other about the long strip of my white nightgown, snagged accusingly on the greedy fingers of the vine that wrapped about the slender pillar of wood. Judging by how Jack's other hand had reached down to pull out his pistol, he knew it too.

Reaching up, I tugged worriedly at his sleeve, puckered my lips against his palm, and pointed to the approaching men, widening my eyes in a desperate attempt at silently conveying, "I have a plan."

Jack hesitated, casting his eyes upwards and back in the direction of the approaching sentinels, nodded, and released me. I immediately set to work, pulling his hat slightly off of his head and gathering all of his hair together, tucking the black strands hastily under the rim, before pulling it down again. My hands reached up his shoulders, pushing off his coat; I undid the thick leather baldric slung over his torso and dropped that beside us before pulling apart his long vest and reaching down to tug at his shirt.

The sentries' footsteps had quietened, were almost inaudible; clearly they were biding their time, waiting patiently before making the kill. Without giving it another thought, I pushed Jack hurriedly against the fencing—he gave an "Oof!" of pained surprise as he fell, his head no doubt absorbing most of the hurt—crawled into his lap, hitched my skirt up around my waist, ripped open what pathetic excuse of a bodice the nightgown possessed, and forced my lips against his. And then we both waited.

A long silence told me that the guards had stopped; Jack was clearly too taken aback to do anything except just sit there, so it was up to me pull one hand down to rest on my buttock, and tug the other pass my ripped dress and arrange it so that he was caressing my breast. It was only after all this was done that Jack exhibited signs of life, and even then it had only been an amused, throaty chuckle.

"What the—"

Such were the first words of the man brave enough to peer over at us; as quickly as we kissed, Jack and I broke apart; he kept his head low, breathing heavily, whilst I widened my eyes and pulled away, squealing as though just realising I was half-naked and rushing to cover myself amidst cries of "Merde!" and "Oh mon dieu!" When I was certain that my shock and surprise had thoroughly convinced them that my embarrassment was genuine, I crawled back towards my lover, and pulled at the purse of coins dangling off of his belt.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jack's brown orbs widen, and slapped his hand away before he could reach down and thus thwart my attempts at pulling his money off of his belt. Tugging at the drawstring, I reached into the dark folds and pulled out a handful of large gold coins that may have been either Spanish doubloons or English guineas; it was hard to tell in the flickering candlelight. Whatever the coins were, I counted out six of them and, dropping the purse into his lap, reached out to the two men, my eyes widened as I pleaded in pretty French.

It took a couple of pokes, and a threatening kick aimed at his groin, but Jack eventually translated in a voice brimming with resentment, "Milady requests that you fine upstanding young gents, on pain of death, remain discreet about our… whate'er it was that you've so recently witnessed."

When the second part of my speech was unforthcoming, I reached down and gave his genitals a suggestive squeeze that had him jerking in sudden fear; for I certainly hadn't been in any way caressing him.

"And she'll reward you handsomely for such loyal prudence," he added grudgingly, and my fingers released their hold, moving to stroke his thigh in silent affection.

"…Right," said the second guard, although it was more of a squeak; his companion, a whey-faced youth, could only stare and gurgle, and it was then that I realised my breast was once again on display. I seemed to spend a lot of my time as Nicolette somewhat naked. "Well, that… that don't sound too bad, does it, Jimmy?" he nudged, his eyes falling greedily on the gold held out in my outstretched hand.

"…Breast," was all the teenager could get out, and the older of the two closed his eyes and lowered his head in embarrassment. "Breast breast breast breast breast…"

"Oh, shut up," his cohort snapped.

"Bre—Wha'?"

"Stop saying 'breast.'"

"…I ain't saying 'breast.'"

"You are, Jimmy; you are."

"Am I?"

"Aye."

"Oh. Sorry." And he turned to me and, leaning hungrily closer, stated simply, "Nipple: nipple nipple nipple nipple nipple…"

Jack's hand was resting on the hilt of his sword, and I hurriedly pulled my nightgown up onto my shoulder lest he behead the young virgin. The older guard slapped his young colleague, reached out to snatch the coins from my hand, and with a dazed bow, pulled the boy, who was now saying "Naked," away from us without another word. I let out an audible giggle as I leant closer to Jack, my ears pricked for their fading footsteps.

"Weren't that the guv'nor's niece?" the youth was saying in a bewildered tone. "The—the French… lady that's niece on his missus' side; the countess what was rescued from pirates and sent 'ere a week ago, 'oo's engaged to some plantation owner in Martinique?"

"Aye, Jimmy, that it was."

"So what she doing in the arms o' that dir'y bastard then?"

"Well she's French, ain't she?"

I frowned at this, quirking my eyebrow even as I gave Jack one kiss after another.

"…'E was a dirty bastard, weren't he, Greg?"

"Aye, Jimmy; a lucky dirty bastard."

Jack laughed silently, pulling away to look at me thoughtfully in the moonlight.

"He's right, you know."

"About you being a bastard? Yes, I know." And with these words, I carefully disentangled myself from his arms, standing and studying my nightgown thoughtfully.

"Now what's all this? A change of heart?"

A few of my buttons had been completely ripped off; there was dust and dirt on my hands, feet, calves and knees; and my stomach was slowly sinking as it dawned on me that, though I'd bought their silence with Jack's gold, the two pacing sentries would doubtless inform Christophe, or Paul, or Governor Hale himself, of my activities. Flavio and I could be arrested, whipped, placed in the stocks, and left at the mercy of the colonial public on charges of deception and fraud. In Tortuga, one of the girls who hailed from London had told us the story of how the madam of her brothel had been sentenced to three days in the stocks for tax evasion, prostitution, soliciting and theft: after only three hours, her heavily-powdered face had been bludgeoned beyond recognition. When the authorities came to release her, she had already been dead for two and a half days. Now I was slowly recognising that my wanton little stunt with Jack may have condemned both me and my maid to a familiar fate.

And all because of this… pirate.

"Jack…"

"Yes, darling?"

I was hesitant, unable to continue for fear of the answer; swallowing, I ploughed on regardless.

"What are you doing here?"

Now it was Jack's turn to hesitate; with exaggerated care, he occupied himself with gathering and counting the coins in his purse, adjusting his clothing, pulling off his hat and releasing his hair as he massaged the back of his skull.

"Don't tell me you don't know," I said warningly as he opened his mouth; with only the slightest hint of a scowl, he turned away and snapped it shut again. "You do know, and I want to know, because it's only fair; after all, I am the one placed most at risk by your little visit."

"That's not true, and you know it," Jack said at once. "What about me, and your lustful little maid, hmm?"

"Flavio is nothing a pet rabbit can't cure," I dismissed, pausing as the words lustful and rabbit came together to paint a very disturbing picture. "Jack… Be honest, please: what are you doing here?"

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"You were supposed to have left Jamaica a week ago… Weren't you?"

Jack threw back his head, winced as his skull thudded rather loudly against the wood, but laughed regardless.

"Oh Sierra, I fear I've greatly misjudged you; have you nothing inside that pretty head? It's foolish to set sail in such an unforgiving squall."

I blinked, confused.

"What?"

Jack arched an eyebrow, perplexed at my uncertainty.

"Christ, woman; have you been asleep the six days past?"

I lowered my gaze, embarrassed, and began quietly, "That night that… that we said goodbye; with all of the things that we'd done, and… and with the… the induced…" I hesitated, biting my lip and dabbing surreptitiously at the corner of my eye. "The miscarriage, that happened just a few hours before… I'd taken ill, and… Yes; yes, I have been… asleep for six days."

When I had the courage to look up again, I saw palpable concern in Jack's eyes. There was a silence, and then he said, "You lied to me."

My head snapped up at this. "What?"

Jack raised a hooked finger, and beckoned me closer.

"You lied to me," he repeated when I had crawled up into his lap. "Before we drowned—smoked—fuc—buried, as it were, away our sorrows, I'd asked you about… your child…" I noticed how he'd stepped around 'our,' but couldn't blame him, because there really was no way to tell if the baby I'd… lost, had been Jack's or not. I'd thought that it was, though, and still do; women have a sense about these things.

"…If it had been alright; if we could engage in such activities, so soon after your loss. Do you remember that, darling?"

I drew a shaky breath before whispering, "Yes…"

"And what did you say in reply?"

"That it'd be fine; that there was nothing to worry about; that you… worried too much."

"You knew, didn't you?" he said softly to me. "That you were putting your health at risk."

I nodded at this, feeling frozen inside. "She told me; Erin told me…"

Jack's lips grazed against my cheek, his breath teasing my ear as he whispered, "So why did you do it, then? Why did you say yes?"

I bit my lip and turned away, suddenly uncomfortable. "I don't—"

"Aha!" Jack suddenly exclaimed, and I flinched, my eyes darting wildly around me before returning to rest on his triumphant features. Straightening he said, in a voice and accent that would have been cruel in its mockery had it not been delivered so playfully, "Don't tell me you don't know; because you do know, and I know that you know, therefore I want to know what you know, and not only do I want to know, I have the right to know; for I am, after all, the one placed most at risk by my visit here."

There was a pause at this, and then, my features threatening to rebel against the stoic mask I'd schooled them into, I leant close to whisper breathily against his lips,

"You annoyingly articulate wanker."

Jack snorted before he could stop himself, and leant forward to steal a quick kiss before straightening and saying to me, "In all solemnity, that was not the reply that I had been anticipating."

I smiled, curling further into his lap. "I know."

"But to return to our intimate tête-à-tête…" he steered, and I felt my heart skipping a beat in uneasy anticipation.

"Why did you do it, hmm? Furthermore, why did you initiate such proceedings?"

I was hesitant; the truth was, it had honestly seemed like a good idea at the time. But I knew that such an answer would not be viewed as satisfactory by Jack; I myself was unwilling to accept it.

"Because…" I began, hesitated, and took the plunge.

"Oh, Jack," I tried again, reaching up to grab his chin and gently force him to look down at me. "Jack, if you had been in my place, and if you had seen how… how hurt, how forlorn you had looked when you'd found out that Pearl had—was…" I bit my lip and cleared my throat before continuing in a parched whisper,

"And if you had loved me half as much as I had loved you in that single moment… you'd have done exactly the same thing."

Jack's face, which had been a map of kindness and compassion, had immediately closed up at my whispered confession; I closed my eyes and looked away, a stab of rejection piercing my gut when I felt his body stiffen as the full implication of my words sank in; indeed, I was so affected by his reaction, or lack thereof, that I was already opening my mouth to take everything back before a voice said scornfully,

Oh, as if you didn't know.

It took me a moment to realise that the words were addressed to Jack, and not myself, and when I did, I was confronted with an unexpected epiphany. Of course Jack had known; he was a very observant man, and I had never been a very subtle woman. And yet he had the balls—well actually, he might not be having them for much longer—to act as though I had dropped a bomb into his lap, and an extremely unpleasant bomb at that: because he wanted to be perceived as cold, callous, inconsiderate.

He wanted me to hate him.

It had always been his way of ending his relationships with women; have them end it, allow them to believe that they were leaving him because he was a selfish amoral prick. Jack's seemingly inadvertent cruelty and spite, the sudden shift in his personality that I had experienced: all an act; a clever act designed to save me from nursing a broken heart. And, I saw with sudden clarity, he had wanted Anamaria to tell me that he had only been pretending to be drunk that night I went with Jean-François. And he'd deliberately made a show of kissing and caressing and laughing with Cate, just to make sure that whatever lingering regard I still felt for him evaporated.

Suddenly, I was seeing everything Jack had said, everything Jack had done, in a new light: His light, to be exact. And what I saw was a human being: just a man, nothing more. After all, no man could possibly live up to the exotic fabrication that was Captain Jack Sparrow, but I supposed I ought to give him credit for trying.

Shaking my head, my mind returned to the current situation, and his cold distance.

"Jack," I began slowly, "you know what I said just now, about loving you unconditionally?"

"Yes…?" he sighed, but he said it with a coldness that merely confirmed my theory; for there was, after all, a lingering trace of hope in his voice.

"I intend to stick unequivocally by it."

Jack threw his head back, and you'd have thought, after three bumps already, he'd have learnt his lesson by now.

"Oh, God…" he muttered, irritated, and I had to smother down a grin as I reached up and gave him a hug.

Too far, Jack; too far. Invoking the Almighty's name in the manner that he had done had directly contradicted with the hidden, repressed coldness he had been displaying merely moments before; as though he cared about my feelings, but hadn't returned them. If I kept up with my heartfelt declarations of undying love, he might just push me off of his lap. Smirking into his neck, I pushed this temptation to the back of my mind, and gave his skin a playful nip that made his body shudder in surprise.

"So tell me, Captain Sparrow," I continued to whisper, although we were, for all intents and purposes, completely safe and utterly alone, "exactly what are you doing here? I've answered your rather intimate question; it's only fair that you should answer mine, considering how I did, of course, ask it first."

"And exactly what question—ah!—" as I gently grazed his Adam's apple with my teeth "would that be?"

"What are you doing here? The storm is over now… And no lies!" I warned as Jack opened his mouth. "And you can't use any words exceeding four syllables in your twenty-word explanation either."

"Twenty words?"

"Yes."

"Just twenty?"

I sighed and pulled my lips away from his skin.

"You're right, you're right; let's give you ten instead—oh!—And it has to start with 'Because,' so technically, you only have nine words…"

In the moonlight, Jack's dark eyebrow had quirked in amusement; clearly he had realised that I wasn't about to fall so readily for his false insensitivity, and if his easy smile and relaxed shoulders were anything to go by, he was somewhat relieved of the fact. Interesting, that.

"Any other stipulations I should know of, my lady fair?"

I lowered my lashes coyly, and said, "No… Besides a little reward for whatever compliment on my ravishing beauty you're able to work into your explanation, which is more of a bonus than anything else."

"The reward being?"

"Ah," I said with a kiss on his jaw, "now that depends on the compliment."

"Mademoiselle, you drive a hard bargain."

"At this very moment, I think the word 'hard' can be more aptly used to describe something else. But enough of this playful banter. What, exactly, are you doing here?"

"'Here' having the meaning of…?"

I reached up and gave his beard a firm yank. "Jack…"

A beat as I watched him struggle—yes, actually struggle!—to collect his thoughts.

"Well—" But I was feeling like a nuisance, and with one finger, stopped him in his reasoning.

"It must begin with 'because,'" I reminded imperiously.

Jack narrowed his eyes, parting his lips and nipping on my finger, and for one horrid moment, I was back in that dream, where the sparrow had used his little beak to tear my mouth open. But this had just been a gentle, playful nip that even a kitten would have been ashamed of, and I forced myself to relax.

"Because…" he stressed, and that was about as far as he could get. I raised an eyebrow and sat expectantly as he furrowed his forehead, pursed his lips, and glanced about him for inspiration. Clearing his throat, he tried again:

"Because… at our last parting—"

"Five more words," I warned, but besides a slight narrowing of the eyes, Jack gave no indication that he had heard me.

"As I left—don't—this fine dwelling and exited by way of the balcony, it suddenly occurred to me that I—" Another pause, and I nodded; it was a well-documented fact that when it came to matters of the heart, men were far less eloquent and articulate than women.

"Well, I… realised…" he said slowly, almost stupidly, "that I miss—missed! Missed!—that I was missing, rather…"

"Go on," I prompted gently; Jack's eyes darted wildly around before settling on me, and he blurted out,

"A chandelier."

The singing of the cicadas grew ever louder as I merely stared incredulously up at him.

"…What?"

"A chandelier," Jack insisted. "There's a lovely one of crystal in your fair ballroom, and I've no such adornment in my cabin, you know."

I closed my eyes, my mind desperately fighting down the instinct to reach up and slap him.

On the other hand, instinct was there for a reason.

"I did not deserve that!" Jack sulked as he turned back to face me.

"Yes you did; it's for lying to me, breaking and entering into what is to all effects and purposes my home, and freely admitting a desire to filch my uncle's chandelier; if anything, you deserve a broken nose."

"And it's not because I didn't say that I missed you?" he asked slyly.

"Do you?"

Another silence.

"…I miss the chandelier."

Another slap, and then I crawled off of his lap to sit beside him, knees drawn up into my chest, face twisted into a childish sulk.

"Fine; go steal your blasted crystal chandelier."

"You're a diamond, love. Now come on; up you get."

Incredulous, I turned to see him standing before me, a hand stretched out as an invitation. I regarded his long, dirty fingers with some suspicion.

"Why?"

Jack simply shrugged.

"It's very challenging, dismantling a chandelier by oneself; what do you think I've been doing for the past hour and a half?"

I just stared at him for a little while longer.

"Is this how little you think of me—of my mind, of my need for independence, of my free will—that I would simply just get up and help you steal a crystal chandelier, just because you asked?"

"Yes," Jack said evenly, and I sighed, accepting his fingers and straightening my dress as I stood, bare-breasted, before him.

"You know me far too well."

Jack hadn't been lying when he'd said that it was difficult to dismantle a chandelier; even though there were two of us working on picking the carefully-cut structure apart, it still took us another hour before the fixture was lying in chunks that were of a decent size for transport.

"I'd love to hear how you plan to smuggle all this out," I grumbled, pushing my sweaty hair from out of my face.

"Isn't it obvious, sweetheart? We'll hide all this—" he gestured vaguely, barely looking at me "—somewhere in the governor's garden, and come twilight tomorrow, me and my faithful band of miscreants will return to retrieve that w…"

As Jack had spoken, looking maddeningly cool and unaffected by the humid heat and sweaty toil of our labour, I had given into temptation and stepped out of my nightdress. Evidently, the pirate had only just noticed me standing stark naked, using my only item of clothing as a rudimentary towel.

"What?" I asked, confused. "You've seen me naked before."

"What a ridiculous argument; it's like saying after one sip of rum, you'll ne'er touch more."

"Well I'm not rum, and you can't touch," I stated, pulling the gown over my head and concentrating on what buttons I had left so that he didn't see my pleased smile.

"Now what's all that about your ragged band of miscreants? You don't plan to raid the governor's mansion, do you?"

"Well, now that you've mentioned it—"

"Jack…"

"Oh, why not?" he insisted. "You've not been subject to a black-hearted buccaneer's pirate raid, have you?"

"No."

"Then allow me to paint you a picture: they tend to begin in the dark of the night, when the only indication of the horrors to come are simply flickering shadows on the walls, and a sense of general disquiet. Then, as though signalled, the cutthroat cads swarm out into the open and proceed to raid, pillage, plunder and maim, whilst a select few—led by the captain, never a taller, more fearsome creature to behold, of course—What? Why are you laughing?—creep into the governor's home, throw the master of the house down a well, and proceed to comb the stately home for every sign of treasure that could be found. To the gentlemen, we are ruthless; the ladies, gallant—and far more so than those bloody highwaymen." The disgust he felt for the roadside bandit was palpable. I smiled in spite of myself whilst wondering if, like Teresa and her warring elves and pixies, there was also a rivalry between the gentlemen of the road and of the sea.

"Surely you're not always gallant?" I purred, rising happily to his bait.

"Without exception," Jack maintained. "An exception, of course, being the—if you'll pardon my verbal larceny—'ravishing beauty' that sits at her bedside…"

"Doing what?"

"I don't know; one would presume she was simply waiting to be ravished. They usually do."

"And what happens to her?"

"Well, it goes without saying that the captain is the only one that does the ravishing."

"And does he ravish her thoroughly?"

"Ravages her beyond recognition," Jack confirmed, and I smiled.

"Is that a promise?"

"It's a threat."

Alas, I was the one that broke off the banter, sighing and pulling my dress closed. "Oh Jack, would that it were I could accept you so easily. But as it is… I have to keep my health in mind." Studying my feet, I added, almost ashamed, "If I'm not careful, I might no longer be able to conceive. And I wouldn't want that."

"…Are you feeling all right?" he asked me, clearly concerned.

"Yes, Jack; the reason I sound so different is that now I'm thinking with my head instead of my genitalia."

There was a silence as Jack's eyes darted around the ballroom that we stood in.

"God's teeth, woman, what have they done to you here? Why a man would encourage women to think with their heads as opposed to their genitals is entirely beyond me."

I smiled at this, glancing down at the broken chandelier.

"You really should go," I said to him quietly. "I'll have some servants handle the overly-mutilated light fixture in the morning, but you really do need to get back to your Pearl."

Jack yawned in agreement, stepping forward to take me by the arms as he looked intensely into my eyes.

"Before I go…" he began. "I have to ask you one final, incredibly important question."

Moving closer, I reached up to wrap my arms about his neck, burying my head into his neck as I closed my eyes, savouring the sensation.

"I'm listening."

"Would you like your eggs poached or scrambled?"

I furrowed my brow at this, taken aback.

"What?"

"Poached or scrambled," Flavio was saying as I opened my eyes and sat up in bed, realising that what I was hugging wasn't Jack at all, but rather, my pillow. Beaming, my maid settled himself on the edge of the mattress, and explained, "I'm just going to pop down to the kitchen and fetch some breakfast, and was wondering if you had a preference…"

I could only look down at my pillow in mute shock; then, incensed, I reared up and threw it across the room, causing Flavio to flinch as it bounced harmlessly off of the wall. Then I covered my face with my hands, and released a piercing scream of frustration.

It was only after my aggravation had subsided that I became aware of a quiet whimpering; curious, I looked over to find a cowering Flavio curled up in a ball. Presented with such a pitiable tableau, it was inevitable that my mothering instinct would dominate, and I leant down to stroke his golden hair amidst words of comfort and apologies.

Presently, Flavio sat up, and in a quiet, stuttering voice, repeated his question.

"…Scrambled, please," I said to him quietly, giving him a sidelong smile and reaching out to pat his hand. Confused and nervous, Flavio nodded once and left the room, closing the door behind him as he went.

Only when I was alone did my body slump, and I leant forward to bury my face in my hands.

"Stupid," I muttered fiercely to myself as white hot tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. "Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid…"

Then, as another wave of anger swept over me, I suddenly straightened and, seizing the lone pillow that remained on the bed beside me, proceeded to hit myself repetitively whilst my mind silently shouted Pathetic! until Flavio announced his return with a cheery "Breakfast!"

-x!x-