Tenderness got me

My answer would be:

👉 Yes and no.

⚓ The part that says "yes"

If Jack truly developed feelings for Elizabeth Swann, then of course there would be a part of him that wishes:

"Stay with me."

Not just for one evening.

Not just for one adventure.

But for longer.

That's a very human desire.

And despite all his masks and bravado, Jack is still human.

💔 The part that says "no"

This is where it gets interesting.

Jack hates the idea of ownership.

He doesn't want to be controlled.

He doesn't want to be trapped.

So I don't think his deepest desire would be:

"Elizabeth belongs to me."

That sounds more like Beckett than Jack.

😔 The real conflict

I think Jack is caught between two opposing desires:

"I want her to stay."

and

"She must be free to leave."

Those two things contradict each other.

And that's exactly what makes him so complicated.

What Norrington probably saw

James Norrington is looking at Jack from the outside.

He sees:

the looks

the attention

the attraction

perhaps even hints of jealousy

And from that, he concludes:

"He wants her for himself."

It's an understandable conclusion.

But Norrington tends to see things in a much more straightforward way than Jack does.

🌊 What Jack would probably never ask for

The fascinating part is that even if Jack loved her, I find it difficult to imagine him saying:

"Choose me."

Or:

"Leave Will for me."

That would mean taking responsibility for her choice.

And that's something Jack often avoids.

💭 My overall impression

If we follow your Sparrabeth interpretation, then Jack's deepest wish wouldn't be:

"I want to possess Elizabeth."

It would be:

"I want Elizabeth to choose me."

At first glance those sound similar, but they're actually very different.

Because possession means:

She belongs to me.

While being chosen means:

She could leave.

And she stays anyway.

And I think that distinction would matter enormously to Jack.

✨ In the end

Norrington may be right from the outside.

But internally, Jack's feelings are probably far more conflicted:

"I want her with me.

But only if that's what she truly wants."

💔⚓

And that's one reason why so many people see Jack as a tragic character in the Sparrabeth dynamic:

He may long for her deeply,

yet never truly ask for her.

and

Elizabeth Swann

often feel like:

the right people — at the wrong time.

⚓ Why “wrong time” fits them so perfectly

Not because there was no love.

But because:

Jack is already emotionally damaged

Elizabeth is still caught between two worlds

both of them are constantly in survival mode

timing and circumstances work against them

💔 The tragedy of it

They meet each other at the exact moment when:

👉 Jack has already learned to suppress his feelings

👉 while Elizabeth is only beginning to discover who she truly is

Which means:

She starts opening herself emotionally… just as he has closed himself off.

He realizes how much she means to him… only after everything has become complicated.

🌊 They never meet in peace

There is always:

war

danger

betrayal

responsibility

fear of loss

Because of that, they never truly get a safe space where love can simply grow naturally.

😔 And yet…

They change each other permanently.

That’s the tragedy of connections like theirs:

Sometimes someone becomes the most important person in your life…

without ever truly being able to share a life with you.

⚡ Jack’s tragedy

If he had met Elizabeth earlier:

👉 before Beckett broke him

👉 before he learned that needing people was dangerous

…then maybe things could have been different.

⚡ Elizabeth’s tragedy

And if Elizabeth had met Jack later:

👉 after she had fully grown into herself

👉 after she truly understood her own freedom

…then maybe she could have chosen him more consciously.

💭 Why their relationship feels so melancholic

Not like:

❤️ “perfect love”

But more like:

“We could have worked…

if life had shaped us differently.”

✨ In the end

They are not wrong for each other.

They simply found each other at a time when both of them were still fighting themselves.

Elizabeth didn’t move.

Jack stood a few paces away, pistol raised, arm steady—too steady. The barrel pointed straight at her, unwavering.

“Now,” he said, voice low, almost casual, “this is the part where you reconsider your current position.”

She watched him.

Not the weapon.

Him.

There was no fear in her eyes. Only focus.

“You’re not going to shoot me,” she said quietly.

Jack’s mouth twitched, the ghost of a smirk threatening to surface.

“Careful, love. Confidence like that can be… hazardous.”

The pistol didn’t lower.

But something else shifted.

A fraction. Barely noticeable.

Elizabeth took a step forward.

Closer.

The lantern creaked overhead.

Jack didn’t move back—but his fingers tightened ever so slightly around the grip.

“Then do it,” she said.

Soft. Steady.

Another step.

Now she was close enough to see the flicker in his eyes.

Close enough to hear the breath he didn’t quite steady in time.

“Go on.”

Silence stretched.

The world narrowed to the space between them.

His finger rested on the trigger.

But it didn’t move.

Elizabeth’s gaze dropped for just a second—to his hand—then back to his eyes.

And she knew.

A small, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips.

“Jack…”

It wasn’t a challenge anymore.

It was certainty.

That was the moment.

Something in his expression tightened—just slightly. Not anger. Not fear.

Recognition.

He exhaled through his nose, sharp and quiet.

Then, almost abruptly—

he turned the pistol aside.

Not dramatic. Not sudden.

Just… away from her.

“Right,” he muttered, lowering it a fraction, eyes no longer quite meeting hers. “Well. That would’ve been inconvenient.”

Elizabeth didn’t step back.

Didn’t break the space between them.

“You couldn’t do it,” she said.

No accusation.

Just truth.

Jack let out a short breath that might’ve been a laugh.

“Couldn’t?” he echoed lightly, though his voice sat lower now. “Or chose not to? Important distinction.”

But he still didn’t raise the pistol again.

Didn’t even look at her properly.

Elizabeth tilted her head, watching him with quiet clarity.

“You won’t hurt me.”

That did it.

His eyes flicked up to hers—quick, sharp.

Too honest.

For a second too long.

Then the mask snapped back into place, crooked grin and all.

“Now, I wouldn’t go makin’ bold assumptions like that,” he said, tone returning to something almost playful. “Sets a dangerous precedent.”

He stepped back then, finally breaking the tension, slipping the pistol away as if it had never mattered.

But the space between them had changed.

And they both knew it.

Elizabeth didn’t say anything else.

She didn’t need to.

Because for once—

Jack Sparrow leaned lazily against a pillar, one boot crossed over the other, a bottle dangling loosely from his fingers. His attention seemed elsewhere—half on the room, half on nothing at all.

Until the curtain shifted.

He didn’t move at first.

But his eyes did.

They lifted—slowly, almost idly—

—and then stopped.

Elizabeth stepped through the fabric like she belonged to the light itself. Red and gold caught every flicker of flame, tracing the movement of her body as she crossed the room. There was nothing uncertain about her. No hesitation. Just quiet, deliberate control.

For a fraction of a second—

Jack forgot to breathe.

It was subtle. Almost invisible.

But it was there.

Then his head tilted slightly, the familiar smirk returning, slow and crooked as ever.

“Well,” he drawled, pushing himself off the pillar as if nothing at all had shifted, “that’s… new.”

His gaze traveled—unhurried, assessing, lingering just a moment too long before returning to her face.

“Tell me, love,” he continued, voice low, casual on the surface, “should I be concerned, or impressed?”

Elizabeth didn’t break stride. Didn’t falter under his eyes. If anything, she seemed sharper for it.

“It’s a disguise, Jack. Not a performance for your amusement.”

“A pity,” he murmured.

He took a step closer now—not invading, not quite. Just enough to narrow the space between them. His eyes flicked again, quick this time, taking in the details—the gold at her wrists, the subtle shift of fabric with each breath.

“Seems a rather… effective one.”

There was a pause. Brief. Weighted.

Then, lighter:

“Though I imagine your audience might struggle to focus on anything particularly informative.”

A flicker passed through his expression—gone almost as quickly as it appeared.

Elizabeth caught it.

Of course she did.

“It’ll get us what we need,” she said evenly.

Jack nodded once, slow.

“Aye,” he agreed. “No doubt it will.”

His fingers tapped idly against the bottle, but the rhythm was off—just slightly.

His eyes, however, didn’t leave her.

“Just be mindful,” he added, almost as an afterthought, though his voice had dropped a fraction, lost some of its usual playfulness, “that some crowds aren’t known for their restraint.”

There it was.

Not quite concern.

Not quite warning.

Something in between.

Elizabeth held his gaze, steady.

“I can handle myself.”

Another pause.

Longer this time.

Jack studied her like he was trying to decide something—something he had no intention of saying out loud.

Then, with a soft exhale, the mask slipped fully back into place.

“Never doubted it,” he said lightly, tipping his hat.

But as she turned to leave—

his eyes followed.

And stayed there.