Chapter Text
The heavy, sulfurous air of the spaceport alley shattered with the screech of steel scraping against metal.
Then came a sharp, strangled gasp.
"Jim!"
Silver froze.
His heart skipped.
Everything stopped.
No.
Not my cabin boy...
Not my pup...
Please, stars...
Not him.
Jim staggered backward, one trembling hand flying to his side. Crimson blossomed across his tunic, spreading between his fingers far too quickly.
Across from him stood a sneering pirate, rusted cutlass dripping scarlet onto the grimy pavement.
Then Silver's mechanical eye flared crimson.
The pirate who had laid a hand on Jim suddenly understood exactly what it meant to have John Silver's full attention.
Someone had hurt his pup.
Silver roared.
The sound thundered through the alley, echoing off brick and steel alike.
His cybernetic arm whirred to life.
Brass gears spun.
Plates shifted.
The articulated metal fingers folded inward with a rapid series of sharp clicks as the forearm began to reconfigure.
In one practiced motion, Silver reached down with his organic hand and unlatched the upper section of his mechanical peg leg.
The cylindrical housing came free.
He swung it upward beneath his transforming arm.
CLACK.
CLACK.
The two prosthetics locked together.
Steel became weapon.
A massive plasma cannon.
Silver steadied it beneath the barrel with his organic hand and charged.
The pirate barely had time to gasp before Silver slammed him backward into the alley wall hard enough to crack the old masonry.
The glowing muzzle drove beneath the pirate's jaw.
It hummed.
The barrel grew hotter.
Hotter.
Until the pirate could feel the heat searing against his throat.
Silver's mechanical eye burned like a dying star.
His organic eye was worse.
It wasn't filled with anger.
It was filled with terror.
His finger tightened on the trigger.
Do it.
Melt him.
Turn him to ash.
The pirate whimpered.
Then—
A wet cough.
Behind him.
Everything changed.
Jim swayed once.
Twice.
The cannon came apart.
Silver hadn't consciously transformed it.
His body simply decided Jim needed a hand more than a weapon.
Metal clicked.
Brass shifted.
The cylindrical section dropped free into his waiting organic hand as the forearm unfolded back into a metal hand.
He caught the peg-leg housing without looking, shoved it back into place with one practiced motion—
CLACK.
—and it locked onto his leg again.
The pirate slid down the wall, forgotten.
Silver barely spared him a glance.
"Run."
His voice was low.
Dangerously calm.
The pirate didn't move.
Silver slowly turned his head.
The crimson glow of his mechanical eye reflected in the pirate's terrified face.
"I said..."
His voice dropped to a deadly whisper.
"...run as far and as fast as ye can into the black, ye miserable space-scum..."
His jaw clenched.
"...before I change me mind."
The pirate didn't wait for another invitation.
He abandoned his cutlass where it lay and disappeared into the maze of alleys without once looking back.
Silver was already on his knees.
"No..."
His voice cracked.
"No... no, no..."
He gathered Jim into his arms with desperate care, one organic hand cradling the back of the boy's head while his mechanical hand—made to wield cannons and cutlasses only moments before—cupped Jim's shoulder as gently as if he were made of glass.
"Jimbo..."
Every line in Silver's weathered face was etched with naked fear.
Terror looked wrong on John Silver.
"Jimbo lad..."
His voice shook.
"Stay with me."
Jim's eyelids fluttered.
"Keep them eyes open, pup. C'mon..."
Silver swallowed hard.
"Don't ye do this t' me."
Jim looked up.
Silver looked terrified.
The sight hurt more than the wound ever could.
A faint, sad smile tugged at the corner of Jim's mouth.
He wanted to tell Silver he was going to be okay.
Wanted to reassure him.
Instead, only a weak breath escaped his lips.
His vision blurred.
Silver's face dissolved into streaks of gold and crimson.
Darkness crept steadily inward.
He held Silver's gaze for as long as he could.
Then everything went black.
"Jim?"
Silver's voice broke.
"Jim..."
He gave the boy's shoulder the gentlest shake.
"Jimbo?"
Nothing.
"JIM!"
The name tore from his throat.
For a heartbeat, the old pirate simply stared, unable to breathe.
Then instinct took over.
He slipped one arm beneath Jim's knees and another behind his back, lifting him as though he weighed nothing at all.
His peg leg struck the pavement in a rapid, uneven rhythm as he hurried from the alley, clutching Jim fiercely against his chest.
"Hang on, pup," he whispered hoarsely, his forehead resting briefly against Jim's hair as he pushed himself faster than his old body wanted to go.
"Please..."
His voice cracked.
"Just hang on."
Hours later, the sterile white lights of Montressor General washed the room in an almost unnatural stillness.
Outside Jim's hospital room, the waiting area had fallen into an uneasy silence.
Sarah Hawkins sat with her hands clasped so tightly her knuckles had turned white.
Dr. Delbert Doppler rested a reassuring hand over hers, though the nervous twitch of his tail betrayed his own anxiety.
B.E.N. paced restless circles around the room.
"I AM PERFECTLY CALM!" he announced for what had to be the twentieth time.
Nobody believed him.
Not even B.E.N.
Captain Amelia stood with the others, her posture as straight and disciplined as ever. She betrayed little emotion, save for the occasional flick of an ear whenever Silver's quiet voice drifted through the partly closed hospital door.
Morph rested quietly in Sarah's lap.
The little shapeshifter hadn't chirped once.
Inside the room...
John Silver hadn't moved in hours.
The nurses had offered him food.
He refused.
They'd offered coffee.
He barely acknowledged them.
One particularly brave nurse had suggested he wait outside with the others.
Silver had looked up only once.
The look in his eye ended the conversation immediately.
He wasn't leaving.
Not until his pup opened those eyes again.
Silver sat beside the bed on a stool far too small for a man his size.
His shoulders sagged beneath a weight heavier than any treasure chest he'd ever carried.
His organic hand completely enveloped Jim's pale one.
His thumb traced absent circles across the boy's knuckles.
Again.
And again.
As though he could somehow reassure Jim—even now—that he wasn't alone.
The mechanisms built for battle were quiet now.
His mechanical hand, forged for fighting and fitted with countless hidden tools, now performed the gentlest task imaginable.
Articulated metal fingers combed softly through Jim's tousled brown hair, brushing the loose strands back from his forehead before returning to begin again.
Back.
Forward.
Back again.
Slow.
Gentle.
Patient.
The same hand that could level a ship with a plasma blast was now careful enough not to snag a single strand of Jim's hair.
The rhythm never stopped.
It was the only thing keeping the old pirate together.
"Open yer eyes already, pup," Silver whispered.
His voice was rough enough to splinter timber.
"C'mon, Jimbo..."
Silence answered him.
Silver swallowed.
"I've seen ye walk away from explosions..."
His thumb paused briefly against Jim's knuckles.
"...outrun half the pirates in the quadrant..."
A faint smile tugged weakly at one corner of his mouth.
"...don't tell me one rusty blade's gonna beat ye."
The smile disappeared.
His shoulders slumped.
"Please..."
The word escaped before he could stop it.
"Come back t' me."
Another long silence.
"I ain't askin' fer much..."
His thumb resumed its slow circles.
"...just one more smart remark."
His mechanical fingers swept another lock of hair away from Jim's forehead.
"...one more argument."
His voice cracked.
"...one more laugh."
Another quiet murmur reached Amelia's ears.
She glanced toward the door.
Silver.
He'd barely spoken to anyone since arriving at the hospital.
Curiosity—and something she couldn't quite name—got the better of her.
With practiced silence, she padded toward the door and eased it open just enough to slip inside.
She hadn't intended to eavesdrop.
Truthfully...
She hadn't expected to find John Silver like this.
Not the infamous pirate.
Not the mutineer.
Not the terror of the Etherium.
Just...
...an old man gently brushing a sleeping boy's hair.
She stopped in the doorway.
Said nothing.
Simply watched.
Silver's organic thumb traced slow circles over Jim's knuckles.
His mechanical fingers swept carefully through the boy's hair, brushing it back from his forehead.
Back.
Forward.
Back again.
The rhythm never faltered.
Amelia remained perfectly still.
For the first time in all the years she'd known John Silver...
She saw him completely unguarded.
Only after several long moments did she clear her throat.
Silver startled slightly, his gears giving a brief defensive whir.
But he never looked away from Jim.
If anything...
His grip around Jim's hand tightened.
Amelia stepped farther into the room.
"It seems," she said quietly, "letting you go all those years ago was the right decision."
Silver remained silent.
"I've often wondered whether I made the correct choice."
She looked at Jim.
"I don't anymore."
Still...
Silver said nothing.
Amelia's voice softened.
"You truly care for him that much, don't you, John?"
Silver's metal fingers continued their slow path through Jim's hair.
"Care about him?"
He let out a quiet, humorless laugh.
It sounded painfully close to breaking.
"Captain..."
His throat worked.
"I'd hang fer the lad."
The words barely rose above a whisper.
"Gladly."
He squeezed Jim's hand.
"If it'd mean he'd open those eyes again..."
His voice failed him for a moment.
"I'd walk meself right up to the gallows without so much as a complaint."
He bowed his head.
"...I love the lad..."
His thumb brushed over Jim's knuckles once more.
"...like he was me own."
Silence settled over the room.
Amelia felt something tighten painfully in her chest.
She'd suspected it for years.
Hearing him finally say it aloud...
...made it real.
A small smile touched her muzzle.
"You've changed, John."
Silver gave a tiny shake of his head.
"Nah."
His eyes never left Jim.
"I just finally figured out what's worth more'n treasure."
Amelia's smile widened ever so slightly.
Without another word she quietly left the room, to give them their privacy.
Then—
A low groan broke the silence.
Silver's head snapped up.
"Jim?"
Outside, Morph's head shot up instantly.
The little shapeshifter chirped loudly.
Sarah was on her feet before she even realized she'd moved.
So was Amelia.
Back inside—
Jim's fingers twitched beneath Silver's hand.
"Jimbo?"
His eyelids fluttered.
Once.
Twice.
Slowly...
Painfully...
Blue eyes opened.
The room swam in a blur of white light.
His head pounded.
Everything hurt.
For several long seconds he had no idea where he was.
Then two familiar faces slowly came into focus.
Captain Amelia stood near the doorway.
She wore the same calm, commanding expression she always did.
But there was unmistakable relief in her eyes.
Then Jim looked at Silver.
The old cyborg looked like he'd aged twenty years.
Silver released a breath—
One he hadn't realized he'd been holding for hours.
His organic eye shimmered with tears.
Before Jim could even manage a greeting, Silver leaned forward and wrapped both arms around him.
Tightly.
As though he were afraid that if he let go...
Jim might disappear.
"Ow..."
Jim winced.
"Silver..."
Silver froze.
"Oh!"
He immediately loosened his grip, horror replacing relief.
"Blazes!"
He pulled back, rubbing sheepishly at the back of his neck.
"Sorry, lad."
His gears clicked nervously.
"Didn't mean t' squeeze ye."
He looked Jim over from head to toe, searching desperately for any sign he'd made things worse.
"How're ye feelin'?"
Jim managed a tired, crooked grin.
"Like I got hit by a solar galleon."
Silver laughed.
A wet, shaky laugh.
He quickly wiped at his eye with the back of his sleeve.
Thank the stars.
He's alright.
My pup's alright.
The door burst open.
Morph was first.
The little shapeshifter launched himself toward the bed before stopping at the last instant, landing gently beside Jim's pillow instead. He chirped happily, nuzzling Jim's cheek until Jim chuckled weakly and scratched beneath his tiny chin.
Only then did Sarah reach the bedside.
She gathered her son into a careful embrace, pressing her forehead against his.
"Oh, Jim..."
Her voice trembled with relief.
"I was so scared."
"I'm okay, Mom," Jim whispered, though his eyes drifted toward Silver.
The old pirate stood just behind her, smiling through tears he made absolutely no attempt to hide.
Delbert stepped beside him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"You stayed."
Silver nodded without taking his eyes off Jim.
"There wasn't anywhere else worth bein'."
B.E.N. threw both arms into the air.
"I KNEW IT! I NEVER DOUBTED JIMMY FOR A SINGLE MICROSECOND!"
Everyone looked at him.
B.E.N. lowered his arms.
"...Perhaps... a very tiny microsecond."
Jim laughed.
The sound filled the room.
Silver closed his eyes for just a moment, letting the laugh wash over him.
It was the sweetest sound he'd heard in years.
By evening, the cool night air of Montressor smelled of sea salt and starlight.
Jim had been discharged, the medical technology having worked its magic on his wound, leaving him sore, bandaged, but standing.
Back at the rebuilt Benbow Inn, a small celebration was underway.
Warm lantern light spilled through the windows.
Laughter mingled with music.
Someone had started playing a fiddle.
The rich aroma of fresh stew drifted through the air.
For the first time since the attack...
Jim felt like he could finally breathe again.
Then he noticed a broad, familiar silhouette quietly slip through the side door.
Silver.
The old pirate paused only long enough to collect his worn leather satchel before disappearing into the cool night.
Jim frowned.
Without saying a word, he excused himself and followed.
Outside, the harbor was peaceful beneath a blanket of stars.
The Etherium shimmered beyond the docks.
Silver stood beside his little skiff, checking the rigging with practiced hands.
He didn't hear Jim approach.
"Running off again?"
Silver's mechanical ear "twitched".
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before he slowly turned.
"Ah... Jimbo."
He gave the rope one last tug.
"Thought I'd slip out before the waterworks started."
Jim folded his arms.
"You said that once before."
Silver chuckled quietly.
"Aye."
His gaze drifted out over the dark harbor.
"Hawkins and Silver."
He smiled sadly.
"Full o' ourselves..."
A wistful breath escaped him.
"...and no ties to anyone."
Silence settled between them.
Jim understood.
Silver wasn't reminding him.
He was reminding himself.
The old pirate hoisted his satchel onto one shoulder.
"Old pirates ain't meant t' stay put, lad."
He forced a crooked grin.
"Sooner or later the stars come callin'."
He turned toward the skiff.
"Best be—"
"Silver."
He stopped.
Jim's heart pounded.
Not again.
He couldn't let him walk away.
Not this time.
Before he could lose his nerve, Jim stepped forward and caught the sleeve of Silver's long leather coat.
Silver slowly looked back over his shoulder.
Confusion flickered across his weathered face.
Jim swallowed hard.
"I know I don't get to ask this."
Silver remained silent.
"But..."
Jim laughed weakly, though there wasn't much humor in it.
"...every time you leave..."
His voice cracked.
"...it feels like losing my dad all over again."
Silver's breath caught.
Jim kept his eyes fixed on the dock beneath his boots.
"I know you're your own man."
"I know you've got places to be."
"I know you don't owe me anything."
He drew an unsteady breath.
"Maybe it's selfish..."
"...but I don't want you to go this time."
His grip tightened ever so slightly on Silver's sleeve.
"I..."
His voice barely rose above a whisper.
"I need you around."
Silence.
Only the distant creak of mooring lines and the gentle groan of ships drifting in the Etherium filled the space between them.
Silver didn't move.
His mechanical eye whirred softly.
Did I hear that right?
The lad...
Needed him?
Him?
John Silver?
The one who almost let him die for treasure?
The one who had lied to him.
Betrayed him.
Broken his trust.
And after everything...
Jim was asking him to stay.
Silver had spent years convincing himself he was doing the right thing.
That staying away kept Jim safe.
That the lad deserved a proper life.
A home.
A family.
Not an old pirate with more regrets than gold.
Truth be told...
Silver hadn't wanted to leave the first time.
He didn't want to leave now.
The thought of sailing the Etherium alone again suddenly felt emptier than the black between the stars.
He would have given every piece of treasure he'd ever stolen...
Just to keep seeing that smile.
But Silver remained silent for one moment too long.
Jim searched his face.
Nothing.
Not a word.
The hope that had blossomed inside him slowly faded.
His fingers loosened from Silver's sleeve.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled.
"It... wasn't my place to ask."
He looked down.
His shoulders slumped.
The fearless young man who had flown through a collapsing planet...
Who had faced pirates without flinching...
Suddenly looked heartbreakingly small.
Heartbreakingly vulnerable.
Silver's heart shattered.
"Jim."
The boy looked up hesitantly.
A broad grin slowly spread across Silver's weathered face.
Then—
He barked out a laugh so loud it echoed across the harbor.
"Well, blast me barnacles!"
Three long strides carried him back across the dock.
Before Jim could even react, Silver swept him clean off his feet.
"Jimbo lad!"
Jim burst into surprised laughter as the old pirate hugged him so tightly his boots dangled above the planks.
"Ye really thought I'd say no?"
Silver pulled back just enough to look him in the eye.
His grin softened.
"Thought I was keepin' ye safe by stayin' away."
He shook his head.
"Truth is..."
"...didn't want t' leave neither."
He rested his forehead gently against Jim's.
"If ye still want an old pirate around..."
His voice became almost impossibly gentle.
"...I'd be honored to stay."
For a heartbeat, Jim simply stared at him.
Then all at once he threw his arms around Silver's neck.
This time...
Neither of them hurried to let go.
Together they walked back toward the warm lights of the Benbow Inn.
Sarah looked up from the porch.
The moment she saw them returning side by side...
She smiled.
Beside her, Captain Amelia folded her arms.
The faintest hint of satisfaction tugged at the corner of her muzzle.
Neither Jim nor Silver noticed.
They were already arguing.
"I still say ye overcook yer porridge."
"I do not!"
"It could patch holes in a hull."
"Maybe if someone didn't dump half the sugar jar into his bowl every morning."
Silver looked positively scandalized.
"It's called proper cookin', lad."
Jim laughed.
"So that's what we're calling it now?"
Their voices drifted across the harbor beneath the stars.
And for the first time in a very long while...
Neither of them had to say goodbye.