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Part I
Elizabeth pulled against the dirty hands that held
her, horror filling her entire being. Will stood on the railing,
on hand wrapped around a line, the other holding a pistol to his
own jaw. This was not the meek, humble boy she'd thought she'd
known.
"Elizabeth goes free."
What had happened? His voice was no longer soft. Always before
when she'd heard him speak, there was hesitance, no confidence
she'd ever heard. Had she not been listening? Had there always
been this steel edge?
"Yes, yes. We know that part." Elizabeth didn't hear
the rest of Barbossa's mocking words. She caught sight of Jack
Sparrow gesturing, and looked back to Will. For a moment, as he
stared at Jack, there was the Will she'd known. An uncertainty
came over him, quickly put away when he glanced at her.
Elizabeth's jaw went slack as all the pieces clicked into place.
She was his strength. She gave him courage. Every part of this
had been for her.
This was no simple, boyish infatuation.
Part II
When he said he'd die for this girl, Jack Sparrow had had doubts.
Only fools laid down their life for the sake of someone else.
While things about this lad -- this Will -- fairly screamed rash
and hasty, foolish was not something Jack would have said of him.
Prone to doing stupid things, maybe. That was more part of hastiness,
an impatience that his father had demonstrated more often that
once or twice. That had often gotten ol' Bootstrap Bill into trouble.
Jack had to come to his rescue more than once. Sometimes it was
a trifle, a bill not paid for some little thing or the other,
an angry girl. Other times, it was deadly serious.
Looked like it was happening all over again. Will stood on the
railing, pistol to his own head.
Oh, look. Stupidity.
How often did I have to save your father, lad?
Barbossa asked him who he was.
Jack winced. "Nobody." He lept in front of Barbossa
and launched into a spiel, not even sure of what he was saying,
speaking for the sake of speaking while he thought. What was it
with these Turners? "Lovely singing voice." No wonder
people thought him mad; he was certainly sounding it. "Eunuch."
"My name is Will Turner."
Oh, wonderful. Stupidity. That's what it was. The Turner men
were overflowing with stupidity.
"He's the spittin' image of our Bootstrap."
Aye, that he was. Jack frowned. Not stupidity, he thought as
he caught of sight of Elizabeth's wide eyes, brimming with unshed
horrified tears.
Passion.
He's the spittin' image of old William Turner, all right, mate.
In more ways than one.
They both were filled with passion.
Part III
A condemning litany ran mercilessly through
Will Turner's thoughts. His finger twitched ever so slightly on
the trigger, and he tried to remember if the gun were even loaded.
Of course it was; they had been in a ship-to-ship battle. Would
there really be a chance of an unloaded gun just sitting around?
Don't do anything stupid.
Sorry, Jack. Don't try to use me as leverage.
I know your game, he thought. I've got you figured out.
His strength wavered for a second as Barbossa eyed him, sizing
him up. This would never work; what kind of bloody bargaining
chip did Will have anyway? Even if he did shoot himself, if Barbossa
acted quickly enough, the body could be retrieved.
Elizabeth would still be on the ship.
Jack and his crew would still be at the mercy of undead pirates.
It didn't look as if it could end well.
So, why am I standing up here, threatening to send myself to
Davy Jones' locker?
He almost shrugged at the simplicity in the answer: He had to
do something. Couldn't just sit around. His blood was the only
leverage he had, and he would use it.
Just like Jack would use him, if he had half a chance.
Will turned his gaze from Barbossa to Elizabeth. Could he really
pull the trigger if it came to that? Could he leave her here,
to find hope somewhere else? Jack stood to the side, looking for
all the world like he had a plan. Prolly doesn't have a bloody
clue what he'd doing next.
For a moment, it looked as if Barbossa had lost his patience
and would shoot Will himself, damned be the consequences. Will
swallowed and pressed the muzzle into his throat.
No turning back.
He'd have to trust Jack and Elizabeth would find a way.
It struck him as surely as the bullet would have: trust Jack?
Could he?
He watched Jack's gaze dart around the Pearl, narrowing as the
pirate thought and gauged the crew.
Aye, trust Jack. That's what it came down to.
I can pull the trigger, he realized.
For you, Elizabeth.
He was ready.
~.~
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