Archive of Our Own ^beta

Jim has often wondered if there was something wrong with him. He knew he wasn't worth the trouble he gets into. He's been told this so many times that he felt like the only thing he could do was accept it as truth- maybe not by his mom, but everyone else who comes into contact with him seems to say it at least once. Even Delbert, his mom's only friend, has mentioned it to her when Jim was eavesdropping from the rooftop of the Inn.

He's gotten suspended from school so many times that the head principle has suggested for his mom to homeschool him. He's failing his classes, because what's the point of trying when everyone is betting on your downfall? He knows he's smart- he built his first solar surfer when he was only eight years old! It hadn't been the greatest invention of all times, but it was his… but he doesn't even try in school anymore, because why should he try when even his teachers have given up on him? And, while he's never actually been to the juvenile hall, he was testing the limits of the system's patience. He's gotten into more fights than he can count, and while he didn't win all of them, whenever the cops or a teacher shows up, their eyes already look to him for blame.

Nobody ever cares to hear his side of the story- why would they? James Pleiades Hawkins is a story that's been told a thousand times over since the beginning of time and then some; a troubled teen throws his future away because he can't get over some family issues… there was no 'side of his story' to be heard. He lies, he picks fights, he trespasses, he's combative, he doesn't know how to listen, he's prickly, and he's on a first name basis with most of the authority figures back on Montressor.

Jim Hawkins was a classic example of delinquency, and many people have wondered what was wrong with him. It was never in a concerned or caring way; more like a rhetorical question thrown in his face whenever he messed up and an adult needed to hurt him in some way that didn't involve throttling him.

And, it was a question he asked himself all the time. He had a loving mother who worked herself to death day in and day out just to support them both, he had a roof over his head, an education, and he never went without food in his belly.

So, what was wrong with him?

The first time the question really crossed his mind was when he was only nine years old; he had been excited to try out the new upgrades he had fixed onto his solar surfer. He had managed to find them in a junkyard, and he had been in such a good mood while attaching the new power-source, that he hadn't even considered moving away from his parents' Inn before testing it out. Which, consequently, ended rather quickly with him crashing through the window of his parents' Inn after underestimating the power of the thruster.

Luckily, it was early enough that there hadn't been any customers yet, but that had done nothing to settle his father, who had been visiting for the day before his next voyage…

Jim can barely remember the man's face, just the anger in his voice as he yelled at him and the feeling of his bruising grip on his thin arm as he yanked Jim off the ground. He remembers his nose growing stuffy and his eyes burning with tears he couldn't shed- it would have only made his father angrier. He remembers the towering figure looming over him, face red, voice booming as Jim cowered beneath his rage.

"What is wrong with you!?" Jim remembers his father demanding without really wanting an answer, giving him a sharp shake, the boy's shoulder wrenching under the harsh treatment. "Why were you playing on that damn thing so close to the Inn?!"

Leland hadn't even seemed to care that his son had cuts all over his arms and legs, nor that there were still glass shards caught in his hair and on his clothes… all the man had cared about was what a new window was going to cost them. Leland never paid Jim much attention unless he did something wrong.

Jim's mother had come bursting in from the kitchen moments later, and it resulted in a shouting match between the two adults as his mom shoved his dad out of the way and began brushing glass from his hair and tugging his contaminated clothes from his body. Jim remained silent the whole time, clenching his teeth and willing his wobbling bottom lip to still, but he couldn't get the words out of his head even as the rest of his mom and dad's screaming turned to murky water in his ears.

Was there something wrong with him?

It seemed to spiral from there. Incident after incident. Accident after accident. Until the morning came when he was eleven years old that marked both the ending and beginning of a new chapter in his life. One that had flipped everything on its head. It had been such a nice day, the weather treacherously hiding the impending storm.

His father had left. Hadn't even spared a glance back as his son came bursting through the front door begging for him to come back. To stay.

Jim had nearly tumbled straight off the dock as he tried to reach for the ship, as if he could will it to bring his dad back simply with the sheer desperation and betrayal that had consumed his little body.

Was there something wrong with him?

Is that why his dad left?

Is that why he can't seem to do anything right, even when he really tries?

Is that why he feels so disconnected from his own mom?

Jim isn't sure, but right now, here on the RSL Legacy, it may be his only chance to prove otherwise. To prove he was more than just a screw-up destined for the slammer. To prove he wasn't a loser. To prove he wasn't a burden. To prove he could do something right by his mom for once in his life… To prove he was worth-

______________

The teen was pulled from his thoughts as he heard the sound of uneven steps heading towards him; one heavy and sure, and the other hissing with releasing valves and metallic against the wooden planks of the deck.

Jim closed his eyes and prayed the cyborg hadn't noticed the brooding lump in the shrouds. He had finished his chores around an hour ago, and while night had fallen over the Etherium and he should have retired below deck to the sleeping quarters, he couldn't bring himself to go down the steps to face the disdain of the rest of the crew while he tried to force himself to sleep.

At this point, he wasn't sure if they hated him because of the incident that happened on the first day aboard with that spider psycho, Scroop, or if it was simply because he was human. For all he knew, it could be both. Humans aren't exactly the most popular of space-fairing species-

"Awfully late ta' be out 'ere," The cyborg began, not even bothering to look up at the boy as he rested his arms against the rim of the ship, staring out at the constellations striking against the blend of deep purples and blues. His usual black coat and tricorn were missing, leaving him in his red bandana, white tunic shirt stained with the meal preparations from earlier that day, and his striped breeches. "T'ought ye'd be restin' by now."

Jim rolled his eyes with all the force he could muster, a flicker of annoyance coursing through him as he glanced down at the large Ursid from his spot in the shrouds. His hands tightened around the ropes as he bit back the urge to tell the man to go away. "I'm not tired." He grumbled instead, scowling down at the cook even though he couldn't see him.

It has been a month since the voyage began, and Jim has been doing his absolute best to avoid Silver over the course of the month whenever he finished one of his chores, lest more be piled onto him to a point of being extremely unfair. But the damn cyborg could find him anywhere on this stupid ship, no matter how good of a hiding place Jim thinks he's found.

The boy was almost tempted to ask Silver how he could find him so easily, but then he remembered once hearing about how frighteningly good an Ursid's sense of smell was from one of the customers at the Benbow Inn while he was bussing tables after getting placed under house arrest. He was afraid a question like that could be seen as offensive, and as moody and rude as Jim could get, he never wanted to come across as rude in that way.

Silver hummed from below, finally glancing up at the boy, his mechanical eye clicking and glowing a yellow hue in the dark of the night. "Is t'at so?" He rubbed his chin with his cybernetic hand, a small smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.

Jim could already see the scheming glint barely hidden behind the facade of indifference.

Jim groaned. He should have just feinted ignorance to the time and slipped away.

Silver ignored his obvious displeasure, and patted the rim of the ship before pushing himself back up to his full height with a grunt. "Well, since ye' aren't plannin' on gettin' any shut eye, ye' might as well come help me down in t'e gallery."

The Ursid didn't even wait to see if Jim would follow, he turned and began limping towards the stairway, his prosthetic leg thunking against the deck as he went.

Jim wanted to protest, to flat out tell him 'no' and go find somewhere else to have some peace to himself- and if he were anywhere but a ship where Silver could find him literally anywhere, he probably would have. But he didn't. All for the simple fact that Silver had said to 'come help him,' as in 'we' instead of pushing a chore onto Jim to do by himself.

So, with a reluctant huff, Jim climbed down the netting of the shrouds until he could safely hop down onto the deck with a hollow thunk. He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and trudged after the large adult.

Silver flashed a smile his way once the boy shuffled down the stairs after him and patted him on the back with his mechanical hand. "Good lad."

The light from the lantern almost makes Jim squint after so long staring into the dark of the Etherium above deck. He also ignored the warmth that flickered in his chest at the Ursid's tone, but he could not stop the way his shoulders eased, even as the hand slipped away.

He cleared his throat and glanced around the kitchen, his eyebrows furrowing when he noticed there was no mess to clean up. Morph was also missing, either disguising himself as one of the utensils or asleep somewhere, Jim wasn't sure. The teen turned his gaze back to Silver, who had walked off towards the storage closet and was pulling out a barrel that reached the bottom of Jim's ribs in height.

"So, what're we doing?" He asked as he shuffled over to the counter top and hopped up to sit, watching as the cyborg's mechanical hand clicked and whirred, retracting to reveal thinner prongs that clamped around the edges of the lid and lifted, revealing a lot of tubers.

Why was it always tubers?

"Never hurts ta' get a head start fer tomorrow, Jimbo." He explained easily, dropping the lid and retracting the prongs in favor of a sharp cutting knife. "Means less ta' worry 'bout."

Silver pulled over a large basket to toss the peeled potatoes into, as well as a crate. He took a seat across from Jim on the wooden box, the barrel and basket sitting between them both for easy access. The wooden crate groaned under the Ursid's weight, but neither of them paid it any mind as Silver began to peel the skin away from one of the tubers.

Jim has been in the kitchen enough times to know where the knives are, so without even hopping off the counter, he laid across the surface and pulled open a drawer. After finding his preferred blade, he closed it and sat back up, grabbing one of the potatoes from the barrel.

They peeled in silence, neither feeling the need to fill it with noise or conversation. And Jim was fine with that. It gave him time to think.

Instead of going back to his previous depressing thoughts, his brain directed a new line to focus on.

The Ursid sitting across from him.

Jim had mixed feelings about Silver. At first, he absolutely hated the man and fully expected him to try and exact his assigned authority over the teen every chance he got. He had expected Silver to be cruel and just like every other adult who crossed his path; disappointed and angry.

To shake his head and look down at him, to sigh like he had expected Jim to meet some unattainable expectations. "What is wrong with you-"

But… but then the Ursid had actually defended Jim from that spider psycho. He had stepped in and nearly broke Scroop's arm before the arachnid could do anything to maim the boy. Even after Jim had been openly hostile and suspicious of him. Even though he didn't know Jim…

It had been such a jarring contradiction to everything Jim knew about adults that he hadn't known how to react. Sure, Silver had gotten onto him for not knowing how to pick his fights, but the cook's actions spoke louder than any word.

And that mattered.

This, of course, threw a wrench in Jim's confidence regarding Silver being the cyborg that that old salamander had warned him about before the Benbow Inn went up in flames. His doubts were growing with each passing day, because the old Ursid wasn't mean, he wasn't cruel, he didn't look at Jim like he was a burden or a waste of time. He hasn't asked those words that hurt Jim more than he was ever willing to admit, even when he got distracted playing with Morph when he was supposed to be mopping the deck, even when he got particularly moody, even when he talked back, or even when he tried to hide to avoid more chores.

Sure, Silver was stern at times and Jim had seen hints of a temper under that easy-going attitude, but he never laid a hand on Jim in anger.

Unlike his own dad-

"Toss t'at 'un."

Jim blinked, his eyes flicking up to Silver as the Ursid continued to peel his own tuber. "Huh?" Jim couldn't help but voice, having not been paying attention or expecting to be spoken to.

Silver glanced up with a nod of his head towards the potato in Jim's hand, which he had just been about to absentmindedly peel, knife posed to slice into the skin. "Toss it. Can smell t'e rot settin' in from 'ere."

Jim, curiously, couldn't help himself and brought the root up to his own nose and sniffed, trying to see if he could smell what Silver was talking about. But it just smelt like dirt, like all the other potatoes do.

"Don't trust me nose, Jimbo?" Silver huffed with amusement, raising an eyebrow. "I'll have ye' know this ole' sniffer o' mine can find a barrel of purps in a crowded Flatulan port." Silver straightened up, tapping his large nose with a clawed organic finger, a proud smile spread across his face.

Jim rolled his eyes with a laugh. "Yeah, I noticed. You can sniff me out faster than the cops back at home-"

He slapped a hand over his mouth, eyes widening as he realized what had just slipped out of his mouth. His gaze is wary as he watches the Ursid's reaction, but the adult's face is unreadable for the moment. Some species are sensitive about certain bodily traits and abilities, and Jim has never met an Ursid before Silver, so he isn't sure what is safe to joke about and what might get him throttled.

'What is wrong with you?' The words slink in and coil around his chest like a vice, familiar and unwelcome, and Jim braces himself for Silver to repeat them back at him. Or something worse, maybe a jabbing finger or a harsh hand grabbing his arm. He always seems to mess things up when it begins to go smoothly, and this will be no different-

But then Silver began to laugh, good-natured and not angry by the sound of it.

Jim blinked, momentarily stunned as he looked for any hint of Silver faking his laugh or that he was actually angry and just waiting for the boy to drop his guard… But it seemed genuine. Jim's shoulders relaxed from where they had unknowingly risen to his ears, and his hand slipped from his mouth. He almost sighed with relief, knowing he just dodged a bullet that would have gotten him punched if he had said that in front of a species like a Canid or a Mustelian.

"Don't need this nose ta' sniff ye' out, boyo." Silver said between chuckles, his organic eye swimming with mirth as he grinned wide now, the gap between his front teeth more prominent in his amusement. "Ye' smell 'nough like a moody pup I could find ye' while standin' upwind."

"Wh-what?! Shut up!" Jim sputtered, heat flaring across his cheeks and ears, causing him to flush an embarrassing red, a scowl pinching his face as he set his knife and potato aside on the counter top to cross his arms and glare at Silver. "I don't stink!" Jim protested firmly, slightly offended, but unable to truly be angry at the sound of Silver's deep belly laughter.

But he does try to shower regularly, thank you very much.

The Ursid wiped away a fake tear, the tubers forgotten as his mechanical hand made a reappearance, replacing the sharp cutting knife. He took in a deep breath and released it, still smiling at Jim. He shook his head, clearly still amused. "Nah, 'm only kiddin'." He suddenly leaned forward, glancing between the stairs that led up to the deck and Jim. The boy was compelled to lean in, curious despite his embarrassment. "Between ye' an' me, there be worse smellin' folks on this 'ere ship."

It was Jim's turn to laugh, turning his head away, his first thought being Snuff and Meltdown.

Which meant he didn't catch the contentment in the old Ursid's organic eye or the soft smile as the human boy laughed.

It was past any reasonable time to be awake, the tubers were forgotten, and they would need to get up early again come morning, but neither of them cared in this moment. They simply found joy in each other's company, laughing and talking freely in ways they never could under the watchful eye of the crew.

Silver knew he should keep his distance and push the human boy away… but he cannot find the strength to.

Jim knew he should keep his guard up and not trust the Ursid cyborg… but he cannot find the strength to.

They are both doomed in different yet similar ways.