But From Thine Eyes

or, Between Love and Hate

Chapter 3

by

Teardrop69

But a sail on the horizon could mean friend or foe, and Jack was fairly certain he didn't want to be found with the commodore aboard the Pearl; at least not until he had a better idea of how to proceed. Regardless of what he'd told Norrington, he had no plans to ransom him in Port Royal. Oh, not because of any twinge of moral conscience about such activity. He did however have plans of another sort, and they didn't include being chased all over the Caribbean for the next six months.

Jack left the cabin, and crossed to where the commodore was standing against the port rail. "I'm afraid, Commodore, that ye'll 'ave to step below. We wouldn't want ye to overtax yerself, what with ye bein' an invalid an' all." Jack swallowed a snicker at the offended look that crossed Norrington's face, but with a firm hand on his uninjured arm, casually led him back to the quarters they'd been sharing.

That had been another battle, when Norrington had realized that although the captain had been willing to give up his bed for an injured man, he had no intentions of giving up his quarters. Norrington wasn't entirely sure why he'd made an issue; the cabin was large, and even with the large table, bed, three armoires, and a desk, there was still plenty of room in one of the corners for a hammock to be strung.

That first evening there had been nothing but tense silence; Norrington had not been in a frame of mind for idle conversation, and Jack had been content to roll himself into the hammock and watch the commodore through his long-lashed, smudged eyes. He'd left a lamp burning on a shelf nearby, and he knew that the commodore had a better view of him than he had of the commodore, but the commodore merely closed his eyes and appeared to sleep. Jack had been a trifle put out over this, as he couldn't remember the last time he'd actually had a guest in his cabin that had fallen asleep without being pleasantly exhausted by love play beforehand. This was definitely going to put a crimp in his reputation.

Gradually, however, over the next two evenings, there had actually been exchanges that might have qualified as conversation. They'd tossed a few insults back and forth with little effort. Then a hesitant question, a stilted answer; they'd gradually loosened up, right up until last evening, where they'd had a rather heated debate on the policies of the king towards his Caribbean colonies. Jack had spent the rest of the evening watching the commodore from his hammock, and had Norrington been able to see his eyes, he would have been fascinated by the fire he'd have seen there. But he hadn't seen, and he spent a dreamless night, while Jack followed his wayward thoughts over the seas of his mind far after the watch changed up on deck.

So as Sparrow ushered Norrington into his cabin, then shut him inside, James chafed at being so coddled. He hated the perceived weakness, and he hated more the implication that he was a prisoner. You are a prisoner, James. You just forgot that. He felt his temper rise, for he had enjoyed the friendly argument he'd had the previous evening with Sparrow. He'd been forced before to change his opinion of the man that day when Captain Jack Sparrow had swiped the Interceptor from literally beneath his nose, when he'd had to agree with young Lieutenant Groves that Sparrow might be the best pirate he'd ever seen. He'd had to revise his opinion again last night, for though he still considered Sparrow as rash, impulsive, and a threat to civilized society, he'd seen that the man had a very keen mind for politics as well as a knack for strategy and an eye for opportunity. He wasn't happy to realize that though he grudgingly admired Sparrow, in return he was considered nothing more than an asset to be traded accordingly.

After seeing the commodore tucked safely out of sight, Jack returned topside to appraise the developing situation. He reached the helm of his Pearl, but Gibbs was already there with telescope in hand. He tossed it to Jack with a grin on his face. Jack tilted his head to one side and then pressed the glass to his eye.

"Yer lad and his lady out there, Cap'n. That there be the Sparrow's Song." Gibbs nodded toward the ship closing with the Pearl. He tensed when the sloop's colors were raised, for running up the mast was a match to their own Jolly Roger. Then he swore and relaxed as he recognized the pair on deck, each with a mischievous grin. "That whelp is going to land his arse in deep water with that trick one of these days," Gibbs grunted.

Jack just laughed and waited for the sloop to pull close enough to allow the Turners to board. Will Turner flipped Jack and Gibbs a jaunty salute, and pulled the young woman beside him closer to his side. Jack was amused to note that Elizabeth Turner was dressed in a pair of breeches and a long white shirt belted at the waist. He imagined that her father would likely have a fit and crawl in it if he could see her at this moment.

"Jack!"

"Will! Ye scurvy dog!"

Will left his bride's side and took the steps two at a time, reaching Jack and pulling him into a rough hug. Jack just grinned and slapped him once on the back, then pushed him away. Making her way more slowly, but with just as much excitement, Elizabeth followed her husband up to where Jack stood.

"Jack, it's great that we caught up with you! We didn't think we'd catch you this close to Port Royal." She gave him a knowing smile. "What could possibly bring you back to these waters this soon?"

Jack had been looking at Will as Elizabeth was speaking, and Elizabeth was sure that he didn't realize the unspoken words that were in his eyes. She raised a hand, intending to place it Jack's arm to get his attention, when a commotion on the deck below caught her own. She and Will both turned, and their jaws dropped when the recognized the surly face of Commodore Norrington heading their way. Elizabeth glanced back at Jack, and then stepped to the top of the stairs.

"Oh, yes, we have the privilege of escortin' the good commodore back to Port Royal," Jack mumbled.

"Commodore Norrington, this is a pleasant surprise," Elizabeth smiled down at him.

"Likewise, I'm sure, Miss... Mrs. Turner." He gave her a chilly nod. "Perhaps you or your husband could possibly convince Captain Sparrow that I can take passage with you the rest of the way back to Port Royal."

Elizabeth's eyes widened and then narrowed; she turned to face Jack. "What exactly is going on here, Jack?"

Will, having learned a bit about his new wife by now, prudently stepped back a pace. Jack, being Jack, just leaned back on his heels and flashed the lass a golden smile. Elizabeth, knowing Jack and Will both, turned back to Norrington. "There are rumors that you and your new ship have gone missing, Commodore. We've come looking for the Pearl in hopes that maybe Jack would know something. And coincidently, perhaps, here you are." She raised her tawny eyebrows and gave Norrington a questioning look.

"Mrs. Turner, while I'd certainly be pleased to tell you the whole story, perhaps I can negotiate with your husband first, regarding my passage home?" Norrington gave her a polite nod that nevertheless was still a dismissal.

Elizabeth's eyes lit with an irritated fury and she glanced at Will, who in turn gave her a sheepish shrug. He pulled her close and gave her a brief kiss on the cheek, and whispered something to her that apparently calmed her somewhat; then he turned to the commodore and with a respectful nod, indicated the cabin Norrington had just come from. Jack remained curiously silent during this exchange, and Gibbs fidgeted uncomfortably.

"Jack, would you catch Elizabeth up on events, please? We've been away for a while, and could use any current news you might have," Will called over his shoulder as he followed the commodore, who had begun walking slowly back to his temporary quarters. The burns on Norrington's leg were healing nicely, with no sign of infection, but the bandages covering the burns still caused him pain. This being the first day he'd worn breeches since he'd been burned, he was still learning which movements were likely to hurt.

Once the two men had disappeared, Elizabeth turned back to Jack, only to realize that he too had followed their departure. She walked over to him, and tucked her hand under his arm, and steered him towards the rail of the ship. She smiled at Gibbs as they passed him, and he nodded at her. Jack avoided her eyes until they'd reached the railing.

"Jack." Elizabeth waited until he turned to look at her, and then continued. "I wanted to thank you. I know what he means to you, and I know what it cost you to let him go." She smiled kindly at Jack.

Jack was silent for a moment, and then gave it his best shot. He grinned at her. He put an arm around her shoulders. He sidled up to her. "You've got it all wrong, luv. 'E means nothing to me. Perhaps it's yerself I'm pinin' for, savvy?" He tilted his head to one side, the trinkets adorning his hair jingling merrily at the movement. And for a moment, he thought he had her.

Elizabeth snorted. She snorted. "Don't bother with that rubbish. It's your eyes that give you away every time, Jack. I've known since before the wedding. It's in your eyes every time you look at him. He loves you too, you know. As do I, because I know what it must have cost you to give him up. But you did give him up, and now you need to stop torturing yourself over him. Perhaps things might have been different if you'd have fought for him; you might have won. But you love him even too much for that, too much to risk that it could have torn him apart. You need to let go, and find someone to make you happy."

With every word, Jack's eyes grew more haunted, and his face became more and more still. Elizabeth had never thought to see Jack Sparrow defeated, and a little part of her own heart broke. Jack didn't say a word, just leaned close to her, and kissed her cheek, exactly where Will had earlier. He removed her hand from his arm and nodded to Gibbs; he stopped to pull a bottle of rum from under a pile of rolled maps, and then disappeared below decks. Elizabeth sighed and went to get the latest news from Gibbs, instead.

*****

He wasn't sure what time it was when he next woke, but the sounds of someone stumbling into the cabin immediately told him what had roused him. He carefully lit the lamp next to the bed, and then watched with resigned curiosity as Sparrow tripped over a line in the floor that had apparently sprung up to monstrous proportions. He continued to appraise the captain calmly as he stumbled past the table. He started to become a tad concerned when the captain staggered towards the bed instead of the hammock. Norrington let out an alarmed croak and clumsily scooted to the side when the clearly drunken pirate fell upon the bed, sprawled on his back, and then ceased to move.

Stunned, James lay there for a full minute before his wits returned. Then, with a disgusted sigh, he gave Sparrow a poke. "Sparrow. Wake up." No answer. Another poke. "Sparrow! Move!" This earned him a grunt and the man rolled towards James. Clearly, this wasn't going to work. "JACK! Get UP!" A muttered curse, and a golden arm snaked out, pulled James near and then Sparrow was kissing him. Caught completely unaware, James froze with shock. When his thoughts began again, threatening to spin hysterically out of control, the one that shone through was 'Rum and coconut, naturally,' which caused a frisson of delight, quickly buried. The second thought to surface from the vortex was 'I'm being kissed by a drunken pirate!' which precipitated the violence with which he thrust his uninjured arm against said pirate's chest, and caused him to tumble to the floor.

A loud thump and another curse signaled that Captain Jack Sparrow was at least awake, if not in full possession of his senses. One hand appeared on the side of the bed and as the dark hair and shadow-edged eyes filled with injured dignity rose above the edge, James managed to pull one more thought from his addled brain. The bloody man knows how to kiss. James squashed that one ruthlessly.

"What the bloody 'ell did ye do that for, mate?" Sparrow slurred. He'd managed to pull himself up to lean one arm on the bed, and was glaring at Norrington reproachfully.

"What do you mean, what did I do that for? You were bloody well manhandling me!" Norrington gave him an Extremely Offended Look.

"Well what do ye expect when yer in a bloke's bed and wake 'im? It's practically an invitation!" Sparrow was looking quite put out by this point.

Norrington sputtered. "I beg your pardon? Are you completely barking mad?" His face was turning a lovely red color, Jack noted. "Sparrow. Hammock. Yours. Go." Norrington hoped that if he used enough simple commands, the man would just go sleep it off.

His wishes were granted, as Sparrow managed to pull himself to his feet after a false start. He was muttering under his breath as he reached the hammock, and after trying and failing for the third time to climb into it, he managed to invoke the goodwill of the sea gods and settle with a grunt into a tangle of hair, clothes and hammock. Norrington watched this entire process, and despite all that came before, had to stop himself from laughing once or twice.

James wasn't laughing hours later, when Sparrow was sleeping like the proverbial baby, and he was still lying awake, thinking about just how those warm rum-drenched lips had felt on his, and the skill with which the man used them. He was still awake when the cabin started to lighten, the darkness sliding silently into soft grays.

Several hours later, after he'd washed and then checked his leg, he was up on deck once again. He'd had some breakfast brought to him by AnaMaria, though generally she and the rest of the crew avoided him, to the point of not looking at him when he was on deck. So he was quite alone at the railing when the door to the captain's quarters opened and Sparrow appeared. James had been looking forward to this, hoping to see the man damned well suffering with the mother of all hangovers, in some small recompense for waking him, mauling him—It was a kiss, let's not get dramatic, shall we?—And then leaving him sleepless.

Therefore, James was bitterly disappointed when the man sashayed through the door looking as if he'd just slept the sleep of angels. Sparrow had that outrageous grin on his face as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath of the sea air.

"Beautiful mornin', ain't it?" He nodded at Norrington.

Norrington bared his teeth at Sparrow.

Sparrow had the audacity to wink at him, and then crossed to where James was standing.

"Did ye sleep well, then?"

James counted to ten. Then he counted to twenty. Finally, he just ignored the question.

"I tried to find you earlier last evening. I wanted to talk to you about the rumors the Turners brought with them," James said.

"Aye? So yer finally ready to talk about it, then?" Jack accepted a banana from a passing crewmember, then leaned on the railing and began to peel the fruit.

"Precisely. You see, I was on my way back from England with the newest addition to the fleet to sail out of Port Royal. She's called the Myrmidon. A few days out of Port Royal, at my best guess, the cox'n decided that military life wasn't really agreeable with him, and he convinced the majority of the crew to his way of thinking. As far as I know, nearly thirty good loyal marines, including a newly promoted lieutenant, were murdered outright. I wasn't offered that option, and instead was marooned on the isle you rescued me from." James had been watching the activity on the sloop anchored next to the Pearl as he talked.

Jack had been watching James. He could see that the loss of the ship had been an insult, but the loss of the men had been an injury, more personal and more painful than those he currently wore on his body. Jack continued to gaze at Norrington until he turned, and then brown eyes met green. James watched something spark in Sparrow's eyes, but couldn't define it. He didn't think it was pity; he didn't want to think it was.

Sparrow rolled his shoulders, and took a bite of his banana. Then, with mouth full, he allayed James's fears. "Ye done what was right by you, mate. Ye survived. Don't let the guilt eat at ye that yer alive and kickin'." At that moment Norrington could read what it was in that frank stare, and he wasn't sure what surprised him more, that it was respect, or that Sparrow offered it unconditionally.

"Besides, luv, look at it this way. It's just another group of pirates for ye to apprehend." The half smile was back, and the respect had shifted to something else indefinable.

Not long after, the Turners boarded the Pearl once more, along with their first mate, a man with the questionable name of One-Eyed Pete (questionable owing to the fact that the man had both of his eyes). The three of them, along with Sparrow, AnaMaria and Gibbs, retired to the captain's quarters. James made to follow, but just then a shirtless dwarf accosted him and spun him around, offering him a silver flask. His back turned to the retreating group, he didn't see the wink that Sparrow sent winging to the small man. Finally he managed to convince the diminutive pirate that he wasn't interested in any rum, but as he walked toward the cabin, a scruffy older man pulled him by the arm towards the upper deck.

These interruptions continued, until James realized that he was being kept out of the way of whatever conference was taking place. His eyes narrowed, and he didn't bother to excuse himself from the sixth, or was it seventh, pirate who had pulled his attention from that closed door. He walked as fast as his injured leg would allow, and when he opened the door he saw... exactly nothing. Sparrow was in the process of rolling up a map, and the rest of them had turned expectantly when the door opened.

"Ahh, Commodore, so good of ye to join us! We'd wondered what kept ye." Sparrow smiled at him, all innocence and courtesy.

"Sparrow..."

"Captain Sparrow, if you please," Jack interrupted.

"Captain Sparrow," Norrington said through clenched teeth, as Will and Elizabeth exchanged an amused glance. "Exactly what deviltry are you six up to in here?"

"Deviltry, Commodore?" Sparrow gave him a crushed look, yet again Norrington could read his eyes, the sly amusement lurking.

Norrington sighed and ran a hand through his wavy brown hair. "Never mind. You're all obviously plotting against king and country, and I'm here as you're hostage."

At this Elizabeth laughed outright. "Really, James. I am still allowed to call you James, aren't I? Or have you rescinded that privilege and I must continue to be so irritatingly formal?" She raised her eyebrows at him.

James swore silently. He'd known that his overture of friendship to the Turners the year before at their wedding would come back to haunt him. At the time, he'd merely wanted to quash the rumors that had been running rampant, but his gesture had bloomed into a sort of friendship, until the Turners had left Port Royal for England.

"It's James, of course." He noticed a little light appear in Jack's eyes, and had a feeling he'd granted permission to more than just the Turners to use his given name.

"Excellent! Now, James. You know full well that neither Will nor I would ever consider an act of treason against the King. You're just being surly." She gave him a sweetly innocent smile, and James realized with a sinking stomach that it was identical to the one Sparrow had given him when he'd entered the cabin.

James just groaned and walked right back out the door.

*****

Shortly after that, she feigned an enormous yawn, and then the devious young lady insisted that the day had been far too taxing for her, and she would really feel much better if she could just go back to the Song and get some rest. Will regarded her with a look that became more and more skeptical as she continued to make her apologies. Sitting around the better part of the day had tired her out? When on most days when they were at sea, she was as likely to be crawling around the ship's rigging as any of the crew? He didn't argue, however, once she gave him The Look he'd long since interpreted as "Just shut up and play along." He loved his wife to distraction, but after a year of marriage, he knew she was at least as cunning as Captain Jack Sparrow. So after offering his own farewell, he and Elizabeth retired to their ship and their cabin.

Jack and the commodore sat in silence for a while, before Jack got up and retrieved a bottle from a shelf near the bed. He pulled the cork from the bottle, and took a drink, then offered it to James. James glanced up at Sparrow, but shook his head.

"Oh, come now, James me lad," he tilted his head to one side, the medallion attached to one long twist of hair swinging with the motion. "Just a nip won't 'urt ye."

James grimaced at the use of his given name, but wasn't surprised by it. He'd known it was coming. "That's Commodore Norrington, or at the very least Commodore." He gave Jack his best haughty look, but it didn't seem to faze the reprobate.

"Whatever ye say, James. Now come on, that's a good lad, drink up," he pushed the bottle into James's hands. He placed one hand on either arm of the captain's chair, which he'd so generously yielded to the commodore for the meal, and leaned down towards James. "One little drink."

Fascinated by the nearness of Jack, catching the smell of rum on the warm breath that wafted over him, James unconsciously brought the bottle to his own lips and took a healthy swig. Seeing the smile break over Jack's face was like seeing the sunrise after a midnight thunderstorm. Bloody everlasting hell, I did NOT just think that. James shook his head and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he was just in time to see Jack close his own, and those clever lips captured his.

This time, James knew there was no excuse. He wasn't half asleep, and Jack wasn't drunk. At least no drunker than he usually was, which James was beginning to suspect was a ruse the majority of the time. Jack brushed his lips across James's mouth, just the barest touch. When there was no overt objection forthcoming, he claimed those lips again, gently teasing, tempting, coaxing James to let him deepen the kiss. James unthinkingly obeyed, parting his lips and then groaning when Jack's tongue slipped inside his mouth. His own tongue flicked briefly against Jack's, a tentative yet questing encounter. When he felt Jack quiver, James fumbled with the bottle of rum, finally finding the table and setting it down. When his hand was free, he reached and put his hand against Jack's shoulder, with every intention of pushing him away. And then Jack's own hand tangled in James's hair, and James was lost.

The passage of time was unnoticed, and James perhaps would have been content to live forever in that instant. But it wasn't to be, because the knock at the door brought him to his senses, and though Jack would have ignored everything up to his precious Pearl burning down around him, James remembered the hand on Jack's shoulder, and gave him a push. This of course resulted in nearly the same ending as previously, for Jack was taken off-guard, and stumbled backwards. He managed to keep himself on his feet, however, and with a dismayed look at James, he stalked to the door and answered it.

James took the opportunity to gather his thoughts. Alright. This is not happening. He wasn't at all naïve about men who enjoyed the attentions of men; no man who had chosen the career of sailor, whether military or civilian, could go for long without picking up at least the knowledge that such things happened. James had never been one to let his passions rule him, however, whether emotional or physical, and had never even considered the possibility for himself.

Jack finished his business at the door, and returned to stand in front of James. "I suppose it's too much to be hopin' for that we can just take up where we left off?" He gave James an appealing smile.

For one brief moment, a moment of clarity, a moment of insanity, James was wildly tempted to say yes. "Absolutely not! And you can just move right on over there to your own side of the room."

Jack sighed a little forlorn sigh and shrugged his shoulders. "Another drink, then?"

"No, Jack."

"Ye just called me Jack." Jack's face lit up.

"Captain Sparrow."

"Too late. And now that we're on a first name basis, as it were, I think we should be drinkin' a toast to the beginnin' of a beautiful friendship!" Jack thrust the bottle back into James's hand.

"Oh for God's sake. If I drink a toast, will you let me get some sleep? I want to be up early; the Turners will be taking their leave at dawn." James tipped the bottle to his lips and took a much smaller drink than he had before.

"For certain, luv. We'll be makin' sure ye get on the Song before she sets sail for Port Royal." Jack gave James a hearty nod, and accepted the bottle of rum to drink his own homage to the toast.

James was much less certain, but he was generally up before the sun. Since Jack had said no more about ransom, and it was the Turners who would be his passage home, he was at least beginning to believe he'd make it there in one piece. Well, more or less. He restlessly scratched at an imaginary itch on his broken arm.

Although not getting exactly what he wanted, Jack still felt that he'd won the battle, and so he graciously let James retire to bed. James removed his borrowed shirt, and with a glare at Jack, he motioned for him to turn around. Jack complied, although not before giving James a rather warm look. James removed his breeches awkwardly, and then crawled onto the bed and covered himself with the blanket.

"I'm finished." He turned to look at Jack's back, and then met Jack's laughing eyes in the mirror mounted on the wall next to the armoire, opposite the bed. He felt himself blush, and then cursed under his breath. This man was intent on driving him mad before he left in the morning.

"Very uncouth, Jack."

"Pirate, luv."

"Indeed. Are you going to sleep, or are you going to ogle me all night?" James said sourly.

"I thought I might read for a smidge. It's still early, after all, and since ye put the kibosh on other, more interestin' forms of entertainment, I figure education is a worthy goal." He ambled over to the shelf and after a brief examination, picked one and returned to his hammock. He settled himself into a curled up heap, and began to read.

James closed his eyes. He lasted for all of two minutes before curiosity got the best of him. "Alright, I'll bite. What are you reading?"

Jack looked up from his book. "The works of Christopher Marlowe." He turned his attention back to the book.

"You expect me to believe you're reading poetry." James gave him a skeptical look.

"Of course not. I'm readin' 'is plays, too" Jack didn't look up.

"Very well. You're reading Marlowe. I should have expected no more. The man was a sodomite."

Jack did look up at this. "Aye, if ye believe the tales. 'E was also a spy and a scoundrel, accordin' to some. Ye'd have gotten on well with 'im." He grinned at James.

James rolled his eyes. "Good night, Sparrow."

"Jack."

"Oh for... Good night, Jack."

"Sweet dreams, James."

Jack read for a bit longer, until the even rise and fall of the blanket covering James told him that he'd fallen asleep. Then he put the book down on his chest, and folded his arms behind his head. He wondered how angry James was going to be in the morning when he found out that the Sparrow's Song had left without him.

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