Discovery, Part 3: Will
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.