Pintel and Ragetti came to collect Will from Barbossa's cabin. The taller pirate walked on tiptoes, nervous, while the stocky one looked anywhere in the room save for Will. He tried to be angry, resentful, even afraid, but the only emotion he seemed capable of feeling was a weighty sense of exhaustion.
"I won't struggle," he told them, meaning it.
Ragetti's face perked up slightly. "Tha's good, that is," he said encouragingly, patting Will on the shoulder.
"No reason to fret, mate," said Pintel, still avoiding Will's eyes. "Just a prick o' the finger, few drops o' blood an' we'll be sailin' free again."
Will didn't need to go by their suspicious behavior to know it was a lie. Barbossa would not take a risk, and at this point he was sure to do Will in out of spite. He hated to be made a fool and Will had done exactly that, even if Barbossa had come out ahead in the end.
So he was not surprised when the captain, his mouth twisted in what could not really be called a smile, gripped him by the hair and pulled his head down. Will nearly stumbled, finding it difficult to keep his balance with his hands tied behind his back. The pirates were gathered around as they had been to witness Elizabeth's sacrifice. Though they were no longer chanting like they were a cannibal tribe and Barbossa their high priest, the air was thick with tension as they stared fixedly at the tableau before them.
He stared down at the glittering treasure beneath his face. How much blood had been spilled because of this gold, over the years? His own would break the curse, but it would hardly be a drop amidst the total loss.
"Begun by blood," Barbossa said, his voice echoing through the cavern. The steel edge of a knife pressed to Will's throat, not quite hard enough to break the skin. "By blood un...." The knife faltered along with the words. Will twisted his neck to see what had made him pause.
Jack was picking his way through the crowd, walking like a half-drunken slattern and smiling vaguely at the pirates. Will couldn't stop himself from breathing his name, trying to convince his mind that his eyes were telling the truth.
"S' not possible," Barbossa murmured, his grip loosening on Will's neck.
Jack held up a finger, finally staggering to the forefront. "Not probable," he corrected, all politeness.
"Is Elizabeth safe?" Will asked before Barbossa could react.
Jack's eyes flitted to him, too briefly for Will to be able to read anything within them. But it had to be - if Jack had come back for him –
"Safe?" Jack flicked a hand in his direction. "She's engaged an' everything, mate! I can see you're not exactly at liberty to join me in a toast to the future Mrs. Commodore, so we'll just wait on that."
Barbossa's fingers clenched and he drew the knife back up. "Shut up! You're next." Will dropped his eyes, not wanting Jack to see the final moment – and how was he to get out of this mess, anyway? What new insanity had possessed him?
"You don't want to be doing that, mate," Jack said.
"No, I really think I do," Barbossa retorted. He found Will's pulse with the tip of the knife and started to press.
Will could almost hear Jack's offhand shrug. "Your funeral."
Barbossa huffed out a fetid breath, but he halted nonetheless. Will was grateful for the bought moments, but baffled by whatever Jack was planning. "Why don't I want to be doin' it?"
"Well, because –" Will glanced up in time to see Jack swat the bo'sun's hand off his shoulder. He bit his lip to stem a tiny grin, incongruous to the situation though it was, and carefully stretched the ropes around his wrists to their limits. "Because the HMS Dauntless, pride of the Royal Navy, is floating just offshore, waiting for you." It was impossible for Will to tell if he was bluffing; his dark eyes were fixed on Barbossa.
With a short chuckle, Barbossa brandished the knife at his men. "'F the Navy wants a tussle, we'll give 'em what for." The pirates roared on cue, making the pools in the cavern tremble.
Jack began to climb the mound as Barbossa pulled Will up, Koehler coming forth to catch hold of his bound hands. "Just hear me out, mate," said Jack, holding his hands up in supplication. "You order your men to row out to the Dauntless, they do what they do best –" Another shout rattled the walls and Jack nodded to the pirates. "– Robert's your uncle, Fanny's your aunt, there you are with two ships – the makings of your very own fleet." He spread his fingers as if enticing Barbossa to picture the scene within them. "'Course you'll take the grandest as your flagship, and who's to argue? But what of the Pearl?"
As quickly as they had risen, Will's spirits wilted. The ship. It always came back to the bloody ship. One really had to admire the tenacity of Captain Jack Sparrow, though Will had a strong present desire to gut him for it.
"Name me Captain," Jack was saying, softly and insistently, "I'll sail under your colors, I'll give you ten percent of me plunder and you get to introduce yourself as..." His eyes turned grave with import. "Commodore Barbossa. Savvy?"
"I s'pose in exchange ye want me to not kill the whelp." Barbossa's tone indicated just how much that disappointed him.
But Jack quickly set him at ease, waving his hands in dismissal. "No, no, not a'tall – by all means, kill the whelp." Will set his teeth in a grimace, willing Jack to look at him and see the curses he would have voiced if he had the ability. "Just...not yet," Jack added. "Wait to lift the curse until the opportune moment." The phrase struck a chord in Will. Stay here, and try not to do anything stupid...
"For instance..." Jack dragged his fingers over the surface of the chest, scooping up a few pieces. "After you've killed Norrington's men." Will followed the play of torchlight on gold on bronzed skin. Jack's eyes were locked on Barbossa's, his voice dark and smooth. "Every." He dropped a coin. "Last." Another flash. "One." Bright clink to complete his sentence and Will waited for the last coin to drop. It did not. Jack fluttered his fingers, his body curving to its own tune like it always did. His gaze never left Barbossa's, but Will no longer needed it to.
He bit his lips hard enough to draw blood and threw in his lot with Jack – for this moment and, if they lived, far beyond.
"You've been planning this from the beginning," he said loudly, ignoring the taste of copper in his mouth, struggling against the hands holding him. Barbossa's eyes narrowed with interest. "Ever since I rescued you from Port Royal."
Jack tilted his head back and finally looked at him. "Yeah." There was a glint in his eye and it was all Will could do to pay paltry attention while he and Barbossa haggled over shares and hats and authority. The opportune moment arrived when the majority of the crew had slipped beneath the waves like crocodiles, leaving only burly Maximo, dim-witted Ketchum, and Jacoby with his ridiculous smoking beard. Jack engaged Barbossa himself, and while Will was somewhat miffed at his own three-to-one discrepancy, he decided it was something they could discuss at a later date. Besides which, Elizabeth suddenly turned up in an ill-fitting marine's uniform and proved handier in a fight than most men could brag of. It all seemed so simple, the adrenaline pumping through his veins and every move feeling strangely rehearsed, as if he'd been born for this one moment, this one fate. Without even a glance spared between them, he and Jack worked their way around the cavern once the three pirates had been disposed of: Jack a few paces from Barbossa, Will at the stone chest. Jack winked as he flipped the coin neatly through the air. Will caught it, dimly aware of the pain when he sliced his palm but more so of Jack's blood mingling with his own.
The sound of the pistol firing was unnaturally loud. Jack stood unnaturally still, muzzle trained on Barbossa.
Barbossa let his arm drop from where he'd been aiming his own gun at a frozen Elizabeth. "Ten years you carry that pistol, an' now ye waste yer shot."
"He didn't waste it," Will said, letting the two coins fall amongst their mates. Barbossa whipped his head around to stare, then tore at the neck of his shirt to reveal the crimson blooming against white linen.
With a disbelieving snort and wide, staring eyes, Barbossa said, "Won't save ye, Jack Sparrow." His arm drifted up, as if it were remaining stationary while his body fell. Will had turned his eyes to Jack and did not see the flash of the second shot. But he heard it, and he felt it.