Fear is only as deep as the mind allows.
-Japanese Proverb

A/N: This is a prize for Moaboa for winning the All About Sarah contest on Deviantart. Sorry it took so long! I don't know if I'm all too happy with this one, but let me know what you all think. I was going for portraying the interesting dynamics of Jim and Silver's father/son relationship. I mean, Silver ain't exactly the best of role models, being a pirate and all. But he's still that huge not-quite-cuddly teddy bear with a gun that you just want to hug.

TP belongs to Disney.

oOoOoOo

Jim doesn't normally faint.

No, he definitely doesn't.

But this was not a normal day.

By any means.

Today, he woke up with sweaty hands a sick and twisted stomach.

It was probably last night's stew.

It was also likely related to that ridiculously vivid nightmare of Scroop shredding him and the rest of the crew alive.

He shuddered.

He'd never look at that ax crazy spider psycho the same again.

And so Jim was most definitely not ready for what lay under an old gray cloth on the galley counter.

"Ah, Jimbo, how lovely ta see ya up so nice an' early! The quicker we c'n get t'ese tings done t'day," the galley cook greeted cheerfully.

"Hn," Jim grunted in return.

"Well, someone got off on the wrong side o' de hammock today, eh?" Silver chuckled.

The boy declined to comment.

"Well, let's get a move on, den, and you c'n mope around after."

Jim rolled his eyes and started walking to the sink to start on coffee for the Captain and Arrow.

Silver continued, "Right, you c'n go ahead and take dat tray up to the Cap'm as soon as coffee's brewed. Soon as yer done wit dat, we can get started on dese purps for breakfast. An' ye c'n go ahead an' put de oatmeal on ta cook, oh, and be mindful that ye don't touch dat cloth there on-"

Silver was interrupted by a loud thump. Startled, he whipped around to find a crumpled heap on the ground, previously known as the cabin boy, a gray cloth fallen next to him and an uncovered carcass for the night's supper on the counter. The cook rushed over in terror, fearing the worst.

"Jim! Jimbo, talk ta me!" Silver shook the teen lightly. "Jim!"

"Ughh . . ."

"Ah, t'ank de heavens. Ya had me worried for a sec there, ya did, laddy."

Jim promptly stood up, leaned over the sink, and vomited.

Silver stood a little ways back.

After a moment, Jim turned back to face the cook.

"Sorry. What was that you were saying?" Jim asked as if nothing had happened.

"Oh no ya don't, lad. Now what was that all about?"

Jim heaved a sigh. "I'm just not feeling all too great."

"And why might that be?" Silver asked.

Jim looked away. Would Silver think he was a sissy for letting a nightmare turn his insides inside out?

"Ya had a nightmare?"

Jim looked up in surprise. "How did you . . . ?"

"Just a guess," the cyborg shrugged. "Not like it hasn't eva happened ta the rest o' us. Mind me askin' what it was about?"

The teenager hesitated for a moment. Did he trust Silver enough to share his fears with him? Would Silver laugh and tell Jim to get a grip? Would he treat him like a little kid that was afraid of the dark?

Should he tell the truth?

Might as well.

If anyone could ever understand, it would be Silver.

And if not . . .

Well, it was worth a shot.

"Scroop," he said, and gave an involuntary shudder. The image of his blood and flesh covered fangs was just too vivid in his mind. He repressed a wave of nausea. "He killed the crew. And . . . and he," Jim clapped a hand to his mouth. Why did he have to have such a good memory? Why did he have to have a perfect mental picture?

Why was he afraid?

"He ate them. The crew. It was gross, and I can still picture it. That's all. Nothing really," Jim ended with a shrug, to let Silver know that this wasn't that big of a deal. In an hour, he'd be busy scrubbing the deck and this would be far out of his mind.

Until I see Scroop again.

"Look, lad," the cyborg laid a gentle hand on Jim's shoulder. "Nightmares ain't nothin to be ashamed of. I get 'em myself, an' I still wake up in a cold sweat. An' also, Scroop's a nasty one ta be sure, so I don't got nothin on ya for dat, neither."

"Re- really?" Jim's face screwed up in confusion as he considered what the cyborg just said. Silver had nightmares? Silver thought that Scroop was freaky, too?

"Lad, Scroop's a bit crazy sometimes, but if I'm around, bet yer stars he ain't gonna lay a hand on ya," Silver paused for a moment. "Course, this'll just be between you an' me, righto? Can't let the crew t'ink I'm a big ole softee, neh?" Silver chortled heartily and nudged Jim. "Else they'll be comin' ta me fer extra rations, an' we can't have none o' dat, now."

Jim chuckled a little. "Sure."

"Now you go an' make that there coffee and take it on up ta the Cap'm. An' the deck's gonna need an extra swabbin t'day. Cap'm don't think ya did a right good 'nuff job yesterday. An' I'm inclined t'agree. Ya gettin' lazy, boy? Deck looks as bad as Dogbreath smells. An' by the gold in Flint's trove, I expect ya ta be treatin' me knives better. Half o' dem are dull already, an' we ain't even been usin' dem fer a month yet!"

Jim smiled as he poured some water to start the coffee. "Righto."

Some things never changed.