In Between The Lines
The day of Jack's execution, Will stood in front of the small chip of mirror he used to shave by. He could just see the reflection of his hatted head through the grimy surface and he grimaced. It was certainly ridiculously brazen enough to alert Jack to his presence in the crowd of spectators. He felt the scabbard under the long concealing cloak that was draped over his shoulders. Will only hoped he would be able to perform that particular sword trick. It had been a spur of the moment reaction, he prayed he would be able to duplicate it on command.
Quickly, he ran over the plan in his head. Gibbs and Anamaria had gone back to the Pearl late last night after hearing Jack's plan. They were both visibly relieved when said plan did not involve them actually leaving the ship and infiltrating the fort. Their only part was to wait by the shoreline near the fort, and to loose Mr. Cotton's parrot when they were in position.
Will strode quickly across the smithy to the front door. Mr. Brown stopped him with a croak. "What are you doing all dressed up like that for?" he rasped. "Don't tell me you're going to the fort."
"I am," Will grunted.
"I suppose it would be rather interesting to watch a hanging again," Mr. Brown mused drunkenly. "Has been ages."
"I wouldn't bother going if I were you," Will told him, opening the door. "I don't believe there's going to be a hanging today."
"Well, I'm feeling rather good about all this," Jack announced loudly from behind Will as the officers lowered their weapons and were ordered to stand down.
Will, distracted by the color and shape of Elizabeth's eyes, only vaguely heard the pirate's rantings and various forms of farewells.
"Will . . ." Jack said abruptly.
Pulled out of his reverie, Will looked up, startled by Jack's first use of the name "Will". He'd come far from "Young master Turner", apparently. There was a short pause as Jack obviously struggled for what to say. Jack, speechless?
Will grinned. Had he really expected anything but a shallow and jest-filled comment on nothing in particular? For all his skill with words, Jack wasn't the sentimental type, and never would be. He didn't need to be. The pause between the words spoke for him.