Hands touch
Eyes meet
Sudden silence
Sudden heat

-- 'Not That Girl', Wicked

What is in a word? Is it the meaning conveyed? Is it in the spoken sound of vowels carried across to one's ears? Or can you say entire volumes with just a glance, a tilt of the head?

When first they met, the Commodore's and Captain's gazes spoke for themselves.

'Flithy low-down brigand. I know what you were up to. You can't fool me with this "good intentions" nonsense.'

'Ruddy stick-up-the-arse Navy. Just can't stand to see someone else in the good light, can you, you smarmy bastard?'

Wariness. Dislike. A measuring up that wasn't just to see who had the biggest bollocks. They snarked, they snipped, they battled each other with their eyes. Somewhere others spoke, but they hardly heard them. They were just words thrown into the void between two hard glances locked together.

Until Elizabeth Swann stood, captured between them. Another exchange of eyes followed, as Elizabeth stiffly moved, putting Jack's things to rights on his person, but yet again she was a minor player in the moment, an excuse to keep up the exchange itself.

'See your pretty girl? Isn't she fine, with her hands all over me? Don't you wish it was you?'

'You Fiend. You Salacious Smug Fiend. I am not amused by your little knowing smile, and we both know it.'

The next exchange was brief, a meeting of dark eyes to green over an expansion of ocean and railings as Sparrow took William Turner and the Interceptor after Elizabeth and her kidnappers. Mocking words were called back, but the meaning was all in their eyes.

'Got you, Norrington. I Got You.'

'Until I get you next, Sparrow.'

They didn't meet again until Sparrow and Elizabeth were pulled from that deserted island, after the rescue escape gone terribly awry. Elizabeth was begging for Will's life to be saved, and Norrington had to bit his lip when the Governor refused her. He didn't want to refuse her, he didn't want to leave Will and yet he didn't want to refute the Governor's words and his own duty.

Sparrow suddenly swung close, his words low and convincing, but his eyes sang a different tune, a desperate lure of charm and dead seriousness. Those eyes had seen a dream float away again under the hands of the wrong Captain and those eyes didn't want to see that ever again.

'Look, you know you want them. You want to go after them. Hunt them down, Norrington, like the hunting cur you are. Think of all the accolades, all the bloody accolades and you could have it all, have anything you wanted. Please, please, please..'

'No.'

'...No?'

'No. I do not do this for the honors, Sparrow.'

And with that, the hard light in Sparrow's eyes shifted. Confusion reigned, with a wary hint of respect.

Dark eyes watched as green eyes went from resolute, to lost and hopeful at Elizabeth's words, "As a wedding present."

For the first time, Jack Sparrow's eyes became troubled.

There was a different measure in their gaze now—Norrington's eyes held a wary respect and resolution to not underestimate Sparrow again. Sparrow's own held the same respect, and something akin to interest.

'You are not what I expected, Captain.'

'Nor are you, Commodore.'

Glances shifted, became keener. More interested.

As the tiny boat rocked in the water, outside the pirate cave, one rough brown hand squeezing on one blue Naval shoulder, Jack Sparrow made James Norrington's eyes laugh. The other man looked down, a slight smile tracing his face. Had Sparrow not been so keen on his ship, his revenge, saving Will and Elizabeth ...

Well, those eyes alight were a treat, weren't they?

At the gallows, their eyes would not meet. Sparrow refused to torture himself with what those green eyes looked like before he died. Hateful, smug, knowing, dead set on duty...

Or would they speak of a little sorrow, as well?

Norrington lifted his eyes once to the platform, and there was sorrow. There was just no one looking. Everyone was caught up in their own longing gazes, and Sparrow, ah Sparrow, he was looking off into the distance. To the next and last horizon? Norrington would never knew.

Then BAM! Whish! In the blink of Norrington's eyes, Will Turner moved, with the force of Jack's dark eyes, into action.

Confrontation loomed again.

Norrington, staring down William Turner at swordpoint, gaining the high ground only to lose it to not looks, but Will's impassioned words, words that moved Elizabeth to her own desperate looks, equally moving words.

Sparrow, standing behind them, seeing Norrington's eyes go dim, and his own head tilted down in sympathy, but something in him thrilled. Both of them, free. Free to do what they wanted...

Would Norrington?

One last chance, then, one last look...

Sparrow swept around the pair, past the Governor, and into Norrington's presence, into the direct gaze of those green eyes. " ...I was rooting for you, mate ..." 'Do you? Will you?'

Norrington's eyes blinked confusion, and a sudden flash of want. His eyes went to Sparrow's, to his lips, and there was the effort not to lick his own.

Sparrow flicked his gaze up, to catch Norrington's own. 'Because I do. Because I will.'

"Know that." Then the gaze pulled away, harshly and suddenly, leaving Norrington bereft once more. He exhaled, lost in the moment while Sparrow 'made his last goodbyes', until the realization struck.

Sparrow was near the wall. He was getting away.

He was leaving.

Suddenly action was a lot easier, and Norrington darted in front of the couple, sword in his hand as his eyes blazed, 'You're Leaving Me?'

Sparrow's eyes rested seriously on his, even as his words spoke of that easy confidence and arrogance with every movement, 'Aye, I'm leaving. Will you follow?'

Then, he fell.

So did Norrington. His heart fell, his breathing fell, as did his resolve.

Until Sparrow surfaced. Until he broke free, and swam towards his ship, without looking back.

Norrington watched him go. Let him go. Gave him a whole day to do so.

~~~~~~~~~

Night-time. The Black Pearl lay silent as its inhabitants headed off to the local pubs and whorehouses, to spend and drink and laugh. Sparrow sat in his cabin, staring down into his bottle of rum. The creaking of the door opening lifted his gaze.

Norrington stood there, wearing the clothes of a commoner and the look of a lover on a tryst. Green eyes darkened from jade to emerald, and both men inhaled deeply, tension mounting.

Sparrow wet his lips, and tested the words in his gaze on his lips, "Well then, Commodore? Will you?"

Something locked into place behind Norrington. It took Sparrow a moment to understand it was the door. Norrington looked at him, looked at him with all the answer in the world, but Sparrow didn't move towards him until he heard the word, "Yes."