A/N: So this is my new TP fic. NO JUDGEMENT, GUYS, I'VE ONLY SEEN THE MOVIE TWICE AND I AM IN LOVE! OKAY? Um, you'll find out more about Silver and Jim and all that in chapters two and three and etc.
I'll explain why Silver's imprisoned in chapter, like, three. IDK. Parts of this fic are all planned out and parts are just kind of thrown in there. I threw some stuff in there. Anyway, warnings for the story and chap are below.
WARNINGS: Verbal abuse is slight in this chapter but gets worse as the story progresses. Also mentions of past physical abuse and emotional or verbal abuse that gets worse as the story progresses also. Possible self-injury and mild torture.
P.S: THIS AN AU.
Jim walked along the passage, carrying a tray with the minimum amount of food on it.
He wondered who their prisoner was. If the crew members' talk was to be believed, it was a cyborg.
He kept his eyes to the ground, the crew's advice swirling in his head. Don't look into its eyes, they said, he thought to himself as he slid the tray on the ground, hoping to avoid the cyborg prisoner's laser gaze.
The man held his head high and stared defiantly at Jim, who shyly handed him the food tray.
How would another member of the crew deal with this?
"Um…here's your food," he whispered. "Eat up." While it's still there. Before they begin starving you like they have me.
His own stomach growled as he thought of it, reminding him he'd eaten almost nothing all day. He felt himself going red and stared determinedly at the ground, waiting for a single harsh word from the prisoner.
When it came, as it so often did, he would flee.
The prisoner eyed him. "Ya look bone thin to me. They not feed the crew right on this ship? Or is that a position reserved for only the prisoners?" he spat the last word out, jaw clenched.
He knows what it feels like to be trapped.
Jim swallowed. What was he thinking? This man knew next to nothing about how he felt.
He quickly caught himself, realizing he hadn't responded to the prisoner and now the cyborg was gazing up at him. Deliberately avoiding looking at the man, he tried for the harsh tone Captain Scroop had perfected and ended up stuttering. "J-just eat your food." He started out of the room, heart beating rather quickly as he realized he'd been so close to letting the degrading name they called Jim himself slip off his tongue.
But he'd never let it.
Not even a prisoner, not even a cyborg deserved it. Prisoners, he thought to himself, deserved pity. They didn't deserve to be called 'slave'.
When he reached the deck, there was a small group talking in low voices. A few of the alien-like creatures caught Jim's eye and sauntered over, grinning.
Intimidating the boy was always a good form of entertainment to them.
Just before he'd gone to bring the prisoner his food, in fact, they'd taken great delight in telling him strange and frightening tales about cyborgs. Though Jim would rather die than admit it, they had worked.
He stumbled past them quickly, trying to get to his quarters before they caught up to him…please don't let them catch up to him…
"Was the cyborg scary?" teased one crew member, punching him in the shoulder. Anybody else might think it a friendly swat, but waves of pain ran up and down Jim's shoulder, leaving the boy in no doubt that the punch had been done with the intent to hurt.
Everyone only touched him with the intent to hurt nowadays.
"I bet you was so scared…"
They carried on poking fun as he hurried on past them, head down, heading for the captain's office. Wanting to make sure Captain Scroop wouldn't object to him going to bed, attempting to sleep.
"Well, at least you didn't have to worry about his laser eye!"
"So tell us what really happened down there?"
Jim had reached the captain's wooden door by now and turned on them, struggling to keep his tone in check. If he didn't, they'd beat him to a bloody pulp…again. He sighed, sticking his hands in his pockets. "Nothing. I brought him his food, told the stinkin' cyborg prisoner to eat. Nothing really happened down there."
The crew looked disappointed. They liked fights. No blood spilling meant no entertainment for them, causing them to turn to Jim for ways to entertain themselves.
In fact, the only good entertainment they'd had for years WAS Jim. Watching him get beaten up. Beating him down. Calling him useless.
Cowardly Jim. Weakling Jim. Useless Jim. Weirdo. Freak. Idiot.
Thinking about it made Jim shake with anger for himself, frustration with his situation and worst of all, helplessness.
His fingers slipped on the clasp of the knocker, causing it to come loose from the wooden door. He ended up knocking with his fist, frantically trying to position the knocker back on one-handed.
Before he could, the captain used one of his many spider-like legs to open the door.
Most people would be scared of Scroop. It wasn't every day you saw a gigantic spider with eight yellow eyes, after all.
But Scroop didn't scare Jim.
No, he terrified the poor boy.
Shaking a little from his tangle with the knocker in his frustration, he entered the darkened office, clutching the door knocker in one fist, hidden behind his back so Scroop wouldn't be mad and scream at him again.
Telling him the useless, broken slave boy had broken something else.
"What do you want, slave boy?" demanded Scroop, sitting down in the desk chair and tilting himself so he faced Jim.
"May I sleep now, Master?" The word 'master' didn't fall easily from Jim's tongue. It had taken a firm hand to show him that on this ship, you sacrificed your pride and your dignity to keep your life.
Scroop sighed. "Bother me not with your uselessssss talk, sssssslave boy. Go sleep. Do the world a favor and shut up for a few hourssss."
Jim bit his lip and nodded, getting ready to stand and leave the room.
"One more thing," Scroop continued, "that door knocker had better be back on by the time I next ssssseeeee it."