Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Silver traced his finger along the intricate ridges of one of the ornate Romanesque columns in the hospital’s waiting room, the cool marble offering a faint distraction from the storm raging in his mind. His gaze wandered to an elaborate mosaic on the wall, its tiles depicting a sanitized version of the Terran Empire’s history—heroic explorers, triumphant battles, and grand discoveries. The artistry was undeniable, the craftsmanship exquisite, but it felt hollow to Silver. This hospital was a monument to wealth and power, its grandeur almost mocking in the face of the suffering it housed. He just hoped the level of care matched the opulence of its architecture.

The waiting room was a sea of anxious faces—military wives clutching handkerchiefs, mothers pacing with restless energy, children clinging to their parents. Silver, with his towering Ursid frame and gleaming metal limbs, stuck out like a sore thumb. He tried to make himself small, to blend into the background, and he felt a bit silly for trying. Still, the others seemed too absorbed in their own worries to pay him much mind. To them, he was just another figure in the crowd, another soul waiting for news that could change everything.

His eyes flicked to the clock on the wall, ticking as the time slipped away. The last time he’d seen Jim flashed in his mind like a cruel slideshow: the boy conscious one moment, his voice weak and barely coherent, and then—eyes rolled back, his body seizing and convulsing. Silver had been forced to step aside as medics swarmed, cutting away the rest of Jim’s blood-soaked clothes and rushing him off the ship. The entire scene had burned itself into Silver’s memory, and would likely haunt his nightmares whether Jim pulled through or not.

A sudden wave of dizziness washed over him, forcing him to sink into a chair across from Delbert and Amelia. The pair sat in silence, their eyes fixed on the tiled floor, their hands fidgeting nervously. Delbert’s face was pale, his glasses slipping down his nose as he muttered to himself, his voice barely audible.

“Oh… I’m sorry, Sarah. I’m so sorry.”

Amelia reached over, gently pulling one of Delbert’s hands away from his face and squeezing it.

“Please don’t blame yourself, Doctor,” she said softly, though her own expression was strained.

“It is my fault,” Delbert insisted, his voice trembling. “I was the one who convinced Sarah to let Jim come along. I’m the buffoon who thought this journey would be good for him. I never imagined…”

He trailed off, wiping his eyes with a shaky hand.

“No, Doc,” said Silver, “The lad got hurt because of me. I deserve all the blame for this.”

Amelia sighed, leaning forward in her seat and wincing as she adjusted her injured shoulder in its sling.

“Wrap it up, you two,” she said firmly. “His mother will be here any minute, and we need to be present for her.”

As if on cue, a woman’s panicked voice echoed nearby, and Silver jerked his head up to see a handsome young woman rushing down one of the corridors. She was a whirlwind of motion, her wild brunette hair half-escaped from its pins, her eyes wide and frantic. She was the spitting image of Jim, and it didn’t take Silver more than a few seconds to conclude that this had to be Sarah Hawkins.

“Delbert?! Delbert!” She lunged for the man and grabbed him by his shirt collar. “Where is Jim?!”

“Sarah- I- he’s-!” Delbert stumbled over his words, taking entirely too long to answer the frantic mother.

“No!” Sarah began to cry, assuming the worst. “Please! Not my baby!”

“The lad’s alive!” Silver interjected, his voice booming through the room. He stood, towering over the group, his single eye locking onto Sarah’s. “He’s hurt, Miss, but I can assure you he is alive!”

Sarah’s tearful gaze fell on Silver, making him shift uncomfortably where he stood. The truth was, Silver actually didn’t know for sure whether or not Jim was still alive, but he hadn’t the heart to tell the already-distraught woman such a thing. He just figured it was better to let her hope until the doctors said otherwise.

Silver watched her blue eyes move from his face down to his chest, where they suddenly widened.

“I-is that-” she stammered, horror taking over her expression.

Silver looked down and realized what she was looking at.

“Shit,” he muttered as he tried to close his coat over the massive bloodstains that had dried on the front of his shirt.

The damage was already done. Sarah’s attention moved to Delbert and Amelia, who had come to the same realization that their clothes were also stained with blood.

“Is that his?” Sarah asked, her voice trembling. “Why is there so much? What happened to my son?!”

Silver thanked the gods above when the capable Captain Amelia stepped up to answer, her composed and commanding demeanor cutting through the chaos around them like a steady beacon in a storm.

“Your son has sustained severe injuries,” she said, her voice steady and gentle. “But I can assure you that he is in good hands right now.”

The captain’s words seemed to do little to calm Sarah, who shook her head and clutched her chest.

“How bad is he? You haven’t even told me where he got hurt!”

Amelia hesitated, her jaw tightening. “The worst injuries are to his leg and stomach. He’d gone into shock by the time the medics took him from us. Truthfully, we don’t know how bad it is at this moment.”

“Shock?” Sarah’s voice cracked.

Delbert stepped in, his voice wavering but earnest. “He lost quite a bit of blood, Sarah. But he’s a strong boy. He’ll pull through. I know he will!”

Sarah looked absolutely miserable, her gaze moving around the room as if trying to find some sort of clue that would lead her to her son. Amelia reached for Sarah’s hand and held it.

“I wish there was more we could say, but until the doctor updates us…”

Sarah’s face went pale, a sheen of sweat breaking out on her forehead. She swayed on unsteady legs, her free hand flying to her mouth. “I… I think I’m—”

Before anyone could react, Sarah bolted to the nearest trash bin, retching violently. Amelia was at her side in an instant, holding her hair back and murmuring soothing words to ease the suffering girl. When Sarah finally straightened, wiping her mouth with a trembling hand, she kept her gaze down, her shoulders hunched with the weight of the entire universe upon them.

Silver watched the scene unfold, his chest tight with guilt and dread. This was going to be a long day.

The next few hours dragged on with agonizing slowness, as if the universe itself had conspired to stretch every second into an eternity. Sarah, Delbert, and Amelia sat huddled in a quiet corner of the waiting room. It had taken over an hour to explain to Sarah everything that had led to Jim’s hospitalization. Her initial shock had given way to fury when she learned that pirates had infiltrated the ship. Silver couldn’t help but notice how Amelia had carefully omitted his own role in the ordeal, and he wondered why she’d chosen to shield him—at least for now.

The cyborg sat awkwardly on a bench across from the group, his massive frame feeling out of place in the sombre, hushed environment. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, each one more guilt-ridden than the last. He felt like an intruder, an unwelcome spectator to the worst moment of Sarah’s life. The weight of everything pressed down on him, and he couldn’t sit still any longer.

Silver stood, intending to pace off some of his restless energy, but the moment he put weight on his prosthetic leg, a sharp pain shot through him. He winced, hissing through his teeth as the memory of the galley flooded his mind—Jim’s terrified face, the boy cornered and desperate, Silver’s own hand gripping a laser pistol hidden behind his back. What had he been thinking? How could he have let it come to that?

He needed to apologize, to make Jim understand that he’d never intended to hurt him. But even as the thought crossed his mind, he cringed. Taking the boy hostage wasn’t exactly a noble alternative.

Defeated, Silver sank back into an empty chair next to Sarah, who was preoccupied with a small locket in her hands. From the corner of his eye, he watched as she flipped through dozens of moving images, each one a snapshot of Jim’s life. There he was as a baby; he was adorable with his tiny arms reaching out toward the camera, his mouth forming the unmistakable shape of “Mama.” Silver couldn’t help but smile.

“Cute little guy,” he commented softly, his voice warm despite the heaviness in the room.

Sarah glanced at him, her eyes red-rimmed but soft. She pressed a button on the locket, and the image shifted to a slightly older Jim, no more than six, holding some kind of wild creature in the doorway of what looked like the Benbow Inn. Sarah let out a small, tearful chuckle.

“I wish I had something more recent,” she admitted, her voice tinged with regret. “He hasn’t let me take any good pictures of him since he was thirteen.”

Proving her point, Sarah flipped through several images until she landed on a video of a teenaged Jim. No older than thirteen, he looked much more like the boy Silver had met on the Legacy. That mean mug and prickly demeanor was all a ruse - a mask Jim wore to protect his heart from being broken again.

“Ah, there’s that attitude,” Silver said with a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. “He’s really come out of his shell these last few months. Mark me words, ye’ll get that picture real soon.”

Sarah’s eyes welled with tears, but she smiled faintly. “He’s told me all about you, Mr. Silver.”

Silver blinked, caught off guard. “When did he- how?”

“In his letters,” she replied with a tiny laugh.

“Of course,” Silver rubbed his forehead. A small ache had begun to take hold as he realized he hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep in almost thirty hours.

Sarah reached over and patted Silver’s arm, “He really likes you.”

Silver’s heart swelled with warmth at her words. Jim had spoken kindly of him. The boy had seen something in him worth trusting, worth caring about. It was a gift Silver didn’t feel he deserved, but one he cherished all the same. He’d grown so incredibly fond of the kid, and it felt good to know that the feeling was mutual.

His moment of comfort was short-lived, however. He noticed Captain Amelia watching him through narrowed eyes. Her icy stare sent a chill down his spine, a blunt reminder of the reckoning that awaited him. His time was running out. Soon enough, she would turn him over to the authorities, and there was no guarantee she’d even let him see Jim before the noose tightened around his neck.

Before he could dwell on it further, Amelia’s ears perked up, and she straightened in her seat. “Someone’s coming.”

The group turned as one, tense with anticipation, to see a tired-looking doctor emerge from the hallway. He wore a smile, a welcome sight that loosened the invisible vice that had everyone holding their breath.

The doctor easily picked Sarah out of the group. “Are you Mrs. Hawkins?”

“Yes!” Sarah’s voice was a mix of desperation and hope as she rushed forward, her boots clicking sharply against the floor. “Jim! Is he—?”

“He’s out of surgery and receiving another blood transfusion,” the doctor took her hands in his, his grip firm and reassuring. “He’s not completely out of the woods, but I am confident your boy will be alright.”

Sarah’s breath hitched, and before the doctor could react, she threw her arms around him in a crushing hug.

“Oh, thank you! Thank you!” she cried, her voice muffled against his coat. She pulled back, eyes wide and pleading. “Can I see him now?!”

“Of course, you can all come see him,” the doctor said, gesturing toward the hallway behind him. His tone shifted, growing more serious as he added, “but first, I need to warn you about something.”

Sarah froze, her hands still clutching the doctor’s sleeves. The rest of the group—Silver, Delbert, and Amelia—edged closer, their faces tense.

“What is it?” Sarah asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

The doctor hesitated, his gaze flickering to each of them before settling back on Sarah. “When he came in, his injured leg had no pulse, a nasty infection had begun to set in, and… well, despite our best efforts, we weren’t able to save it. We had no other choice but to amputate.”

A collective gasp rippled through the group. Silver felt his stomach drop as if he’d been punched, his mechanical hand tightening into a fist. His mind raced, images of Jim—reckless, spirited, always in motion—flashing before him. The boy who could scale rigging with ease, leap across gaps without hesitation, and outrun trouble when it came calling. Losing a limb… it wasn’t just a physical loss. Silver knew it would cut deeper than that.

“Where is the amputation?” Silver asked, his voice gruff but steady, cutting through the heavy silence.

“His left leg,” the doctor replied.

“No, I know that!” Silver snapped, his frustration bubbling over. “I meant did ye amputate below the knee, at the knee, or…?”

“Above the knee,” the doctor said, his tone somber. “We tried to save as much of it as we could, but the tissue damage was very severe.”

The words hung in the air like a storm cloud, heavy and unrelenting. Delbert let out a low groan, his glasses slipping down his nose as he pinched the bridge of it. Sarah covered her mouth with her hand, her shoulders trembling as tears welled in her eyes.

“Oh, my poor baby,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

Silver’s jaw tightened, his mind racing. He’d seen Jim at his best—strong, agile, fearless. The kid had a fire in him that Silver admired, a spark that made him believe Jim could conquer anything. But this… this would test him in ways Silver knew all too well. He’d been young once, too, full of energy and dreams, until the event that took pieces his own body. The thought of Jim facing that same kind of loss twisted something deep inside him.

“How is he taking it?” Delbert asked.

The doctor sighed, adjusting his glasses. “He was a bit combative after surgery, so we’re keeping him sedated for now. He has no idea what’s going on.”

Sarah nodded, wiping at her tears with the back of her hand.

“Take me to him,” she said, her voice firm despite the quiver in it. “Please.”

The doctor nodded and turned, leading them down the long, ancient hallway. The group followed in silence, their footsteps echoing against the stone floor. The walls were lined with framed paintings of serene landscapes, a feeble attempt to soften the harsh reality of the place. Silver’s damaged prosthetic clicked with each step, a constant reminder of the fragility of flesh and bone.

As they approached Jim’s room, the doctor paused outside the door, his hand resting on the handle.

“Prepare yourselves,” he said gently. “He’s still hooked up to machines, and it might be unsettling to see him like this.”

Sarah nodded, her face set with determination. The doctor opened the door, and they filed in, one by one, their breaths catching as they took in the sight of Jim lying motionless in the hospital bed. Tubes and wires snaked around him, the steady beep of the heart monitor filling the room. His face was pale, almost ghostly, partially obscured by an oxygen mask that fogged faintly with each shallow breath. Despite the layers of blankets piled over him, his entire body shivered, a faint but constant tremor that made Silver’s heart ache.

Sarah moved to his side immediately, her hands trembling as she held his face and kissed his forehead.

“Oh, Jim,” she whispered, her voice cracking under the strain of her emotions. “My brave boy.”

Silver scanned the shape of Jim’s body beneath the blankets—the faint outline of his arms, the rise and fall of his chest, the curve of his torso. But it was the absence that struck him hardest. The shape of Jim’s body fell off like a cliff where his left leg should have been. Next to his remaining leg, the blankets lay flat, no bump or contour to mark the presence of the other. The only bit that remained was a short stump. The sight was jarring. It was one thing to hear the doctor’s words, to know in theory what had happened. It was another thing entirely to see it, to confront the reality of Jim’s permanent injury, his form forever altered.

Silver stood near the foot of the bed, his massive frame dwarfing the space. His gaze was fixed on Jim, but his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and a gnawing sense of guilt that refused to be silenced. Jim would need more than just time to heal; he’d need a reason to fight, something to remind him that losing a leg didn’t mean losing himself. And Silver, of all people, knew exactly what that felt like. He’d been there, once. He knew the darkness that came with waking up to a body that no longer felt like your own. But Jim was just a kid. He shouldn’t have to face that kind of pain. Not yet. Not ever.

Silver’s breath hitched as he watched Jim’s body tremble beneath the layers of hospital blankets. The boy’s breathing was labored, each inhale sharp and uneven, causing the oxygen mask to fog slightly with each exhale. Silver’s mechanical hand twitched at his side, the gears inside whirring faintly as he clenched and unclenched his fist. He hated this—hated his own helplessness, the darkness and sterility of the room, the way Jim looked so small and fragile lying there. It was wrong. All of it was wrong.

“He’s cold,” Silver muttered, his voice low and rough. He stepped closer to the bed and reached out to adjust the blankets. His organic hand hovered for a moment, hesitant, before he gently tucked the edges around Jim’s shoulders. He then reached under the covers and wrapped his hand around Jim’s remaining foot. The boy’s skin was like ice, and Silver felt a surge of frustration. “Come on now, the lad’s freezing! Can’t ye do something about that?”

The doctor, who had been quietly observing from the corner of the room, stepped forward.

“It’s normal for patients to feel cold after major surgery,” he explained, his tone calm and clinical. “We’re monitoring his temperature closely, and we’ll adjust as needed. Just give him some time—”

“Normal?” Silver snapped, his voice rising. He turned to face the doctor, his single eye blazing with a mixture of anger and fear. “There ain’t nothing normal about this! The boy’s been through hell, and now he’s lying here, shaking like a leaf, and ye’re telling me it’s normal?”

“Mr. Silver,” Amelia interjected, her voice firm but calm as she placed a hand on his shoulder. “They’re doing everything they can.”

Silver clenched his jaw, but he took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. He knew Amelia was right, but it didn’t make the sight of Jim any easier to bear. The boy looked so small, so fragile, lying there in that sterile bed, and it tore at Silver in ways he couldn’t fully articulate. He stared down at Jim, his hand still wrapped around the boy’s bare foot, trying to warm it with his own calloused palm.

“Can’t ye bring him a sock or something?”

The doctor nodded. “Of course. A nurse will be in shortly.”

Silver watched the doctor leave the room, his jaw clenched tight, frustration simmering beneath the surface. The man’s calm demeanor, his clinical detachment—it grated on Silver’s nerves. How could anyone stand there and act like this was just another day, another patient? This wasn’t some stranger lying in that bed. This was Jim.

Moments later, a nurse walked into the room, her steps swift but quiet. She handed Silver a pair of socks, neatly folded together. Silver stared at them for a moment, his mind briefly catching on the absurdity of it. Two socks. Jim only needed one now. The thought almost spurred him to make a smart remark, something sharp and biting, but he stopped himself. This wasn’t the time to be rude to the poor nurse. It wasn’t her fault. Instead, he simply nodded, his voice uncharacteristically quiet as he muttered, “Thank ye, lass.”

The nurse gave him a small, understanding smile before slipping out of the room, leaving everyone alone with Jim once more. Silver unfolded the socks, his hands moving carefully as he reached under the blankets to slide one onto Jim’s remaining foot. The boy’s skin was still cold, but Silver hoped the small gesture would bring him some comfort, even if he couldn’t feel it at that moment. As he tucked the blankets back around Jim, Silver’s gaze lingered on the flat space where the boy’s other leg should have been.

A slender hand gently settled on his own, and Silver looked up to see Sarah looking at him, her tear-streaked face soft with gratitude. He had been so preoccupied with caring for Jim, so lost in his own guilt and worry, that he had almost forgotten that the others were still in the room with him.

“Thank you,” Sarah said, her voice barely a whisper, but it carried a weight that made Silver’s throat constrict. Her fingers squeezed his hand gently, a silent acknowledgment of the care he was showing her son.

Sarah’s eyes welled with fresh tears, but she held his gaze, her expression a mix of gratefulness and sorrow. She gave his hand one last squeeze before letting go and turning back to Jim. Silver watched her for a moment, his chest tightening as he observed the tenderness in her movements. She brushed a strand of hair from Jim’s forehead, her touch lingering as if she could pour her strength into him, as if her love alone could will him back to health. It was a mother’s love—fierce, unyielding, and boundless—and it stirred something deep within Silver, something he couldn’t quite name. Respect, perhaps, or even a flicker of nostalgia. It reminded him of a time long past, a faint memory of warmth so distant it felt like a dream.

Then, to everyone’s surprise, Jim’s eyes cracked open. It was slow and hesitant, as if he were fighting against the weight of his own eyelids. His gaze was watery and unfocused, slowly scanning the air above him in confusion before landing on Sarah. For a moment, he flinched, his body tensing as if he didn’t recognize her—or worse, as if he thought she might be someone else. Silver could only imagine what the world must have looked like through Jim’s drugged and disoriented mind. Shadows and shapes, blurred faces, the unfamiliar room—it must have been terrifying.

Sarah immediately rushed to comfort him, her voice soft and soothing as she leaned over him. “Shh… It’s okay, baby, it’s just me.”

Jim’s lips parted, his throat working as he tried to speak, but all that came out was a tiny, broken whimper. His arms twitched, as if he wanted to reach for his mom, but they were too weak, tangled in the coils of tubes, wires, and heavy blankets that seemed to pin him down. He looked as helpless as a newborn, his usual tenacity stripped away by pain and exhaustion.

“We’re all here. We’re not going anywhere,” Sarah continued, raking her fingers through Jim’s hair.

Silver reached under the blanket, his large, calloused hand enveloping Jim’s smaller one. The boy’s fingers were cold and limp, but Silver held them firmly, as if he could transfer some of his own strength through the touch. His throat was too tight to speak the words he wanted to say—reassurances, apologies, promises. They remained lodged in his vocal cords, unable to escape. Even if he could force them out, he feared they would come out as a broken mess, and he would simply fall apart. So he stayed silent, his grip steady, his presence a quiet anchor in the storm of Jim’s pain and confusion.

Jim’s fingers tightened around Silver’s in a weak but desperate grip, the boy’s hand trembling as if clinging to the only lifeboat in a storm. His breathing quickened, each inhale sharp and shallow, his chest rising and falling in frantic, uneven bursts. The steady beep of the heart monitor accelerated, its rhythm growing faster and more erratic, a jarring soundtrack to Jim’s distress.

“He’s in pain,” Delbert said, his voice tinged with alarm as he pushed himself to his feet. “I’ll get the nurse.” He hurried out of the room, his footsteps echoing down the corridor.

Silver’s heart hurt as he watched the boy struggle, his face contorting with discomfort, his panic seeming to fill every corner of the room. It was a raw, visceral thing, Jim’s fear, and it clawed at Silver’s resolve. He leaned closer, his voice low and steady despite the storm of emotions raging inside him.

“Easy now, lad,” he murmured, his hand still clasping Jim’s. “Ye’re alright. Just breathe.”

Moments later, the door swung open, and a pair of nurses rushed in, their movements brisk and efficient. One carried a syringe, its contents glinting faintly under the lights. They moved to Jim’s side without hesitation, their voices calm but firm as they assessed the situation. Silver reluctantly stepped back, his hand slipping from Jim’s, though his gaze never left the boy. He watched as the nurses worked, one pair of practiced hands gently holding Jim’s arm steady while the other administered the medicine with swift precision. The room seemed to shrink around them, the air growing heavier, as if the walls themselves were closing in, holding their breath alongside the small group gathered around the bed.

Then, slowly, Jim’s breathing began to calm. The frantic rise and fall of his chest evened out, and the rapid, erratic beeping of the heart monitor slowed to a steadier, more reassuring rhythm. The tension in the room eased, if only slightly, as Jim’s face relaxed, the lines of pain and panic smoothing away. Within moments, he was peacefully asleep once more, his body still and quiet beneath the blankets.

Silver let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his shoulders sagging with relief. He glanced at Sarah, who was still clutching Jim’s other hand, her face pale but composed. The nurses exchanged a few quiet words before stepping back, their job done for now. The room felt quieter, the storm momentarily subdued, but the weight of what had just happened lingered in the air like a shadow.

Once again, Silver eased his hand around Jim’s. He sat quietly, his focus narrowing to the steady rhythm of Jim’s pulse beneath his fingertips—a fragile but persistent reminder that the boy was still here, still fighting. The hours ticked by in silence, the only sounds the soft hum of the machines and the occasional shuffle of feet as the group kept their quiet vigil. Words felt unnecessary, even intrusive, in the face of the unspoken understanding that bound them together. They were united in their shared hope, fear, and determination to see Jim through this. And so they waited, each lost in their own thoughts, each drawing strength from the others’ presence.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and B.E.N. bounded into the room with his usual exuberance, Morph hovering close behind.

“Captain! I found the most adorable little inn just across the road. You are going to love—Oh, my… Jimmy!”

B.E.N.’s voice cut off abruptly, his cheerful tone replaced by stunned silence as he took in the sight before him. His robotic mouth hung open, his amber eyes flicking rapidly from Jim’s pale, still face to the flat space beneath the blankets where his leg should have been. For once, the usually talkative robot was utterly speechless, his gears whirring faintly as he processed the scene. Morph, sensing the tension, let out a soft, worried chirp and hovered closer to Silver. The room, already heavy with silence, seemed to grow even quieter as B.E.N. stood frozen, his usual energy replaced by a rare moment of solemn disbelief.

Amelia shot B.E.N. a sharp look, holding a finger to her lips in a gesture that brooked no argument.

“Keep your voice down,” she said. “Mr. Hawkins is very unwell. He needs peace and quiet more than anything else right now.”

B.E.N.’s mechanical shoulders slumped, his amber eyes dimming as he processed her words.

“I’m sorry, Captain. I truly am,” he whispered, his voice uncharacteristically subdued. If he’d had tear ducts, he would have certainly begun to cry. Instead, his gears whirred softly, a mechanical mimicry of distress. “Oh, Jimmy… this is terrible!” he added, his voice cracking as he hovered closer to the bed, his movements hesitant.

Morph, sensing that something was wrong, flitted nervously around Jim’s face before snuggling up under his chin. The little shapeshifter let out a soft, mournful chirp, his usual playful demeanor replaced by quiet concern.

“I… I’m sorry it took me so long to get here,” B.E.N. murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, his usual exuberance replaced by solemnity. “I got so caught up in what I was doing, I just… lost track of time…” His mechanical hands fidgeted nervously, his amber eyes flicking back to Jim’s still form as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

Amelia’s expression softened slightly. “That’s alright, B.E.N.,” she said before changing the subject. “You said you found us a place to stay?”

B.E.N. perked up a little at the question, his gears whirring as he shifted back into problem-solving mode.

“Yes, ma’am! Two rooms, just across the road. One for you and Mrs. Hawkins, and one for Doc, Silver, and me.” He paused, glancing around the room as if suddenly remembering the gravity of the situation. “It’s, uh… it’s not much, but it’s clean. And close. Real close. So we can be here in a flash if Jimmy needs us!”

Amelia nodded, her sharp eyes assessing the robot with a mix of gratitude and mild exasperation.

“Good. That’s one less thing to worry about.” She turned to Sarah, who was still seated by Jim’s side, her hand gently holding onto his. “Visiting hours are almost up, but we’ll stay here until they kick us out.”

“How long do we have?” Sarah asked, not taking her eyes off of Jim.

“About thirty minutes,” Amelia replied.

Sarah sighed, her shoulders slumping under the weight of exhaustion and worry.

“Can’t they give me a cot to sleep on? I’ll even sleep on the floor if I have to.” Her voice was pleading and desperate, the mere thought of leaving Jim alone too unbearable for her to accept.

Amelia’s expression softened.

“They’re pretty strict here, Mrs. Hawkins,” she said gently. “Besides, you need your rest, too. Sleeping on the floor wouldn’t do either of you any good.”

Sarah’s grip on Jim’s hand tightened, her fingers trembling as she pressed his hand to her cheek.

“What if he wakes up all alone in the dark? That would be so scary for him…”

Amelia hesitated, her usual composure faltering for a moment as she considered Sarah’s words. She glanced at Jim’s still form, her mind racing for a solution.

“I understand,” she said finally, her voice quieter now. “But the hospital staff won’t budge on their rules. The best thing we can do is make sure someone is here first thing in the morning. We can take turns, so he’s never alone for long.”

Sarah didn’t respond immediately, her eyes still fixed on Jim. Finally, she nodded, though her reluctance was palpable.

“Alright,” she murmured, her voice breaking. “But I’m coming back first thing in the morning. I don’t care what anyone says.”

Amelia placed a reassuring hand on Sarah’s shoulder, “That’s fair enough.”

As the minutes ticked by, the room grew quieter, the weight of the day settling over them like a heavy blanket. Silver remained in his seat to Jim’s right, his large frame hunched slightly as he kept a firm but gentle grip on the boy’s hand. Across from him, Sarah sat with her gaze locked on Jim, her eyes searching his face for any sign of movement, any flicker of awareness. The silence among the group was thick, broken only by the steady beep of the heart monitor and the occasional uneven breath from Jim.

When a nurse finally appeared in the doorway, her expression sympathetic but firm, the spell was broken.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, “but visiting hours are over. You’ll need to come back in the morning.”

Sarah hesitated, her hands tightening around Jim’s for a moment longer. She leaned down, pressing a kiss to his forehead, her lips lingering as she whispered something too soft for anyone else to hear. A quiet promise meant only for him. Then, with a deep breath, she straightened, her resolve hardening even as tears glistened in her eyes.

“I’ll be back first thing,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Silver stood slowly, his movements stiff, every bone in his body aching. He gave Jim’s hand one last squeeze before releasing it, his gaze lingering on the boy’s face.

“Rest easy, lad,” he murmured, his voice rough but tender. “We won’t be gone long.”

One by one, they filed out of the room, their footsteps echoing softly in the empty corridor. They were the last visitors still there. Sarah walked with her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her shoulders hunched as if to ward off the chill of the hospital air. Silver followed close behind, limping badly and hoping to the stars above that B.E.N. had remembered to get his toolkit out of his cabin on the ship. Amelia and Delbert brought up the rear, whispering to each other in a way that made Silver certain they were discussing him.

They made their way to the inn that B.E.N. had found for them, the warm glow of its windows spilling out onto the cobblestone street. As they stepped inside, the rich aroma of a hot meal and the malty, earthy scent of ale greeted them. It wrapped around the group like a comforting embrace. Silver’s stomach growled audibly, and he realized just how long it had been since he’d last eaten. Judging by the way the others perked up at the smell, he wasn’t the only one who was starving.

The inn was cozy, with a low ceiling supported by wooden beams and a fire crackling in the hearth. A few patrons sat scattered around the room, their conversations a low hum that added to the warmth of the atmosphere. B.E.N., who had been unusually quiet since their arrival at the hospital, suddenly sprang back to life, his amber eyes brightening as he gestured toward a table near the fire.

“Over here! I saved us the best spot in the house!”

As they settled around the table, the innkeeper appeared almost immediately, his cheerful demeanor a stark contrast to the somber mood of the group.

“What can I get for you all?” he asked, his voice bright and welcoming, as if he hadn’t noticed the heaviness that clung to the group like a shadow.

“Ladies first,” Silver said, nodding his head toward Sarah.

Sarah sighed, her shoulders slumping as she stared at the table.

“Uh… I’m really not all that hungry right now,” she admitted, her voice quiet and tinged with exhaustion. Her hands fidgeted with the edge of her napkin.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Silver gently admonished her. “Ye need to get yer strength up. Jim needs ye to get yer strength up.”

Sarah hesitated, considering Silver’s words as her gaze flickered to his face before dropping back to the table. Finally, she turned to the innkeeper.

“I’ll have the soup, please. And some tea.”

The innkeeper nodded, jotting down her order with a quick flourish before turning to the others. One by one, they placed their requests. As the innkeeper bustled off to the kitchen, the group fell into a comfortable silence, the warmth of the inn and the promise of a hot meal easing some of the tension that had gripped them all day. Silver leaned back in his chair, his mechanical hand tapping absently against the table as he stared into the fire crackling in the hearth.

B.E.N., unable to stay silent for long, broke the quiet with a sudden burst of energy.

“You know,” he said, his voice a little too loud for the subdued atmosphere, “I think this place is great! Cozy, warm, and the food smells amazing. Jimmy is going to love it here! Once he’s back on his feet, of course!”

Delbert pinched the bridge of his nose, his glasses slipping slightly as he sighed. “Poor choice of words, B.E.N.”

“What?” B.E.N. blinked, his amber eyes wide with genuine confusion. He looked around the table, completely clueless to the gaffe he’d just made. “Did I say something wrong?”

Sarah chuckled softly, the sound breaking through the heaviness like a ray of sunlight. It was a small, fragile laugh, but it was enough to lighten the mood, even if just a little. She put a reassuring hand on B.E.N.’s shoulder.

“No, you’re right,” she said, “Jim would love it here.”

Inside their room, Delbert busied himself with preparing his bed, meticulously smoothing out the sheets and fluffing the pillows in an almost ritualistic manner, as if the act could somehow anchor him in the midst of everything that had happened that day. Across the room, Morph had already curled up into a tiny ball on Silver’s bed, his soft, rhythmic chirps indicating he was fast asleep. Silver, meanwhile, sat on the edge of his own bed, his mechanical leg propped up on a chair as he tinkered with his damaged prosthetic. His tools were spread out on the floor, and the faint whir of gears and the occasional spark filled the room as he worked.

Delbert glanced over, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“Do you need any help with that?” he asked, his tone hesitant but genuine.

Silver shook his head, not looking up from his work.

“Nah, I’ve got it. Just trying to patch this thing up.” He twisted a small wrench, tightening a bolt with practiced ease. “It’s seen worse, believe me.”

Delbert nodded, “Well, if you change your mind, just let me know. I may not be an engineer like Jim, but I’m fairly handy with tools.”

Silver chuckled, a low rumble in his chest.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Doc,” he said, finally glancing up with a faint smirk. “Though I reckon ye’d be better off sticking to yer star charts and equations.”

Before Delbert could respond, there was a soft knock at the door, and the two looked up to see Amelia leaning against the doorway. She looked exhausted, her usual sharp demeanor softened by the weight of the day. Her uniform was slightly rumpled, and her hair, usually so meticulously styled, had a few loose strands framing her face.

“How is Sarah doing?” Delbert asked, setting aside the pillow he’d been fluffing.

Amelia sighed deeply, crossing her arms as she stepped further into the room.

“I just got her to go to sleep,” she replied, her tone heavy with both relief and weariness. “The poor thing is just inconsolable.”

She pulled a chair from the corner of the room and sat across from Silver, her posture rigid but her exhaustion evident in the way she leaned slightly forward, elbows resting on her knees. Her sharp eyes, however, remained focused, narrowing as she studied Silver with an intensity that made him shift uncomfortably. So far, she had allowed him to remain under her and Delbert’s watch, but with the unspoken promise that she would eventually turn him over to the authorities. Silver hoped she’d at least let him see Jim after the boy woke up, but he knew he was lucky to have even made it this far. Frankly, Amelia was jeopardizing her own career by keeping him around even this long, and Silver was surprised she hadn’t already handed him over to the police. What was she waiting for?

“I need to talk to you,” she said, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

Silver set his wrench down with a soft clink and gave Amelia his full attention, his single eye meeting hers with a mixture of wariness and respect.

“Aye, Captain,” he said, “What’s on yer mind?”

“Everyone is talking about the explosion in the sky this morning,” she began, her voice low and measured. “It’s only a matter of time before someone connects that to us, so we need to be as unassuming as possible.”

Her eyes flicked to Silver’s metal arm, then to his mechanical leg, her expression hardening.

“I hate to sound insensitive, Mr. Silver, but do you have any way to cover that up?”

Silver was caught off guard by the question, but he understood where her concern was coming from. His mechanical limbs were distinctive, to say the least, and in a town buzzing with rumors about the mysterious explosion, drawing attention was the last thing they needed. He took a moment to think, his mind racing through his limited options.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied finally, his voice steady. “Me snow jacket is still in me cabin on the ship. It’s got a big enough sleeve to protect me gears from freezing. I could cover up with that and some gloves.”

Amelia nodded, her expression softening slightly with relief.

“Good,” she said, “The less attention we draw, the better. We’ve already got enough to worry about without adding curious onlookers to the mix.”

Silver inclined his head in agreement, though a flicker of unease crossed his features. “Aye, Captain. I’ll make sure I’m nothing but a shadow while we’re here.”

Amelia studied him for a moment longer, her keen gaze examining him closely. Then, with a sigh, she leaned forward again, her elbows resting on her knees. Her posture was still commanding, but there was a weariness in her movements now, a vulnerability she rarely showed.

“Look, Silver,” she said, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant. “I need you to understand that my hands are tied. Once Jim is stable and we’ve sorted things out, I can’t protect you for very long. The authorities will have questions, and I… I’m risking my neck by doing this.”

That alarmed Silver. Of course! Amelia’s actions weren’t just a risk to her career—they were a risk to her life. Harboring a criminal such as him could be seen as treason, especially given her position as a captain of the navy. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut, and he straightened, his expression turning serious.

“Please don’t risk yer life for me,” Silver said, his voice tinged with urgency. “That’s not fair to ye. I’ve made me choices, and I’ll face the consequences. But ye’ve got too much to lose, Captain. Don’t throw that away for the likes of me.”

Amelia looked at him with a mix of sympathy and a dash of respect, an expression Silver hadn’t seen from her before. It was fleeting, but it was there.

“I’d give almost anything to have a chance to say goodbye to Jim,” Silver continued, his voice cracking as he put his hand over his heart. “But I won’t ask ye to sacrifice yerself. Jimbo will be fine without me, but he’ll need you both and his mum more than anything else in this universe.”

Amelia didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she reached into her coat and pulled out a small, ornate object that gleamed faintly in the dim light. At first glance, Silver assumed it was a pocket watch—its brass casing was polished to a soft sheen, and it fit neatly in the palm of her hand.

It was when she turned it over that Silver realized it was her compass. The light caught the glass face, revealing the faint tremble of the needle beneath, and for a moment, he was struck by how delicate it seemed in her hands—unlike the sturdy, utilitarian instruments he was used to seeing aboard ships. Her fingers traced an intricate engraving on the back, the motion slow and deliberate, almost reverent. Silver couldn’t make out the words or symbols etched there, but the way her touch lingered, the way her breath seemed to still as if she were holding a piece of her very soul, told him everything he needed to know. This wasn’t some ordinary trinket, something picked up in a port market or passed down without thought. It was a relic of her past, a fragment of someone she had been—or someone she had lost. The weight of it was palpable, not in its physical form but in the way she cradled it, as if it were the only thing tethering her to a world that had long since slipped through her fingers.

Silver watched her quietly, his curiosity piqued but his respect for her privacy keeping him from asking questions. Whatever that object meant to her, it was clear it held a story—one she wasn’t ready to share. After a long moment, Amelia slipped the item back into her pocket and looked up at Silver.

“You really do care about Jim, don’t you?” she said, her voice softer now, almost gentle. It was more of a statement than a question.

For a moment, Silver didn’t respond. His eye flickered, the usual harshness in his gaze dimming as something deeper and more vulnerable surfaced. Then, much to his embarrassment, a single tear escaped, tracing a jagged line down his weathered cheek. He turned away, his mechanical hand clenching into a fist as he tried to stifle the sob rising in his throat.

“Care about him?” he rasped, his voice cracking under the weight of his words. He laughed, a hollow sound that did nothing to mask the pain beneath it. “I love that dumb kid!”

The admission hung in the air, heavy and unguarded, as if Silver had torn open a part of himself he’d kept locked away for years. His breath hitched, and he pressed the heel of his hand against his eye, trying to stem the flood of tears that now refused to be contained. His shoulders shook with the effort to hold himself together, but it was a losing battle.

Amelia’s expression softened, her usual stern demeanor melting away as she watched the man before her unravel. She nodded, Silver’s tearful admission confirming something she understood all too well.

“I can see that,” she said quietly. “And for what it’s worth, I know he loves you too.”

Silver swallowed hard, his throat tight as he fought to keep his emotions in check. He didn’t trust himself to speak, so he simply nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor.

Amelia stood and headed toward the door, stopping at the threshold. “Get some rest,” she said, looking at Silver. “Tomorrow’s going to be another long day.”

As she left the room, Silver sat in silence. He glanced at Delbert, who was already fast asleep, his soft snores filling the room. The sound was almost comforting. Silver turned back to his prosthetic, picking up the wrench and resuming his work. But as the minutes ticked by, the exhaustion of the day began to creep in, his movements slowing, his limbs growing heavy. Finally, with a sigh, he set the wrench down and rubbed his face with his organic hand.

“Sleep can’t wait forever,” he muttered to himself. With that, he carefully set his tools aside and stretched out on the bed, his mechanical leg propped awkwardly to the side. Morph, sensing his movement, flitted over and nestled into the crook of his arm, his tiny form glowing faintly in the dim light. Silver hesitated, then gently patted the little creature with a finger, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Alright, ye little rascal,” he murmured. “Let’s get some shuteye.”

Silver let out a long breath, the tension in his body slowly easing as sleep finally claimed him. The weight of the day—the fear, the guilt, the relentless worry—seemed to melt away, if only for a few hours.

That night, Silver dreamed.

In his dream, Jim was whole and unharmed, his mischievous grin as bright as the stars above. They stood together on the deck of a sleek, fast ship, the kind Silver had always imagined but had never possessed for himself. The Etherium stretched out before them, endless and shimmering, its colors shifting like liquid light. Jim was at the helm, his hands steady on the wheel, his laughter ringing out as the ship soared through asteroid fields and skimmed the edges of nebulae. Silver stood beside him, a proud smile spread across his face.

“Where to next, Captain?” Jim asked, his voice teasing but full of excitement.

“Wherever the wind takes us, lad,” Silver replied, his chest swelling with a warmth he hadn’t felt in years. “The Etherium’s ours for the taking!”