Title: Some Things Never Change
Author: Traxits
Fandom: Treasure Planet
Status: Complete, 434 words.
Pairing: None. Genfic featuring Sarah Hawkins.
Content Notes: No warnings for this piece.
Summary: After the first time they brought Jim home, Sarah had hoped it was the end of those mechanical voices and the whirring buzz of their gears and machinery at her door. She hadn't been able to quite swallow back the feeling that her hope was in vain, that this was going to become a regular thing.

[[ ... One Shot ... ]]

After the first time they brought Jim home, Sarah had hoped it was the end of those mechanical voices and the whirring buzz of their gears and machinery at her door. She hadn't been able to quite swallow back the feeling that her hope was in vain, that this was going to become a regular thing. And it was just as well that she hadn't.

Because it had been.

It got to where every time she heard that mechanical hum, her heart stopped, her mouth went dry, and she tried not to let her hands shake. Jim only acted worse when he saw her shake.

And later, after his adventure, after all those months when he came back home grown, taller and standing straighter and proud of himself in ways he hadn't been before... well, even after that, she had her memories of the police. Had seen them track down mothers dining at her inn whose children had attended the Interstellar Academy just to give them the sort of news that sent them into screaming hysterics, or, and she thought this might be worse, made their mouths snap shut, made tension coil tightly in their back, in their hands, in every fiber of their being. The tears were always there though by the time the officers left. Sarah had told them not to worry about it when they fumbled with their purses to pay for the meal.

The thought of taking their money on the heels of them being told...

Supposedly, it was a kindness, getting that sort of news from a familiar face, from the officers you had grown accustomed to seeing in the area. Sarah didn't think it was a kindness at all. Not when it meant every time they stood on her door - delivering updates to the local laws or important criminal bulletins - her heart stopped. Her throat tightened. And she clenched her hands in her apron to keep them from shaking.

She didn't have Jim as an excuse anymore, not with him gone off being a famous officer in his neat white uniform. Now she was simply scared of shaking, of revealing that much to them. To anyone.

She could only breathe again when they left, when she could close her eyes and remind herself that Jim was still out there, still chasing pirates and doing whatever dangerous thing he did when asking made him give her that small, tight smile with the quiet reminder, "You promised you wouldn't ask, Mom."

The same way he wouldn't ask when