Secondhand Smile

A/N: First off, credit for this idea goes entirely to CandyassGoth and her wonderful, hilarious crack fic Treasure Panty, which is where I got this idea. Luckily, when I brought it up to him/her, s/he was extremely enthusiastic and gave me permission to write a serious, multi-chapter spin-off. I want to say this will be a long fic, like 100,000 words or more, but I'm not sure? I guess it depends on how well-received this fic is, and how the fic unfolds. I want to say I've got most of the main plot points down, but I must admit I didn't plot this one out as thoroughly as I guess I could have. I was a bit eager to set pen to paper. As I said in the summary, this is a very slight AU of the last...I dunno...thirteen minutes? And the beginning, after this, is set before the end where Jim graduates. I actually got to admit, I didn't realize Jim was graduating at the end. I thought he was wearing the uniform and shaking hands with the police officers and everything to show that he'd just been accepted. I guess considering Doppler and Amelia had four kids and I'm just guess-stimating here, especially considering we're not really sure how the birthing procedure works for aliens...but yeah, I guess Jim would have been nineteen at the end.

Also this is gonna be Jim/Silver father/son mostly because Silver's bae and Jim's bae and together they have a bae relationship. Thanks for checking this out, if you like it then chapter 2 will be up, maybe this month, maybe next, maybe not until summer, I don't know. What are deadlines.

Jim always thought it would have been easier had he gotten to say goodbye.

Had he woken sooner; had he pushed himself out of bed quicker; had he raced down the stairs just a heartbeat faster; had he not paused, white and numb with shock, upon the doorstep, had he merely kept running, scrambling for the docks, had he not tripped and fallen, had he made it there in time, had he reached his father quickly enough to grab the man by the sleeve or wrist or hand, had he made it there and managed to clutch and hold some part of the man he loved, things might have worked out differently. His father might have looked down at him and decided to stay; might have picked him up and hugged him; might have carried him onto the ship, too; might have said something, anything – I love you, I'll miss you, I won't go away forever, I'll come back, I love you, I'll miss you, goodbye…

Had the boy himself not been silent; had he called out for his father, called for him to stay, begged him to slow or pause or wait; had he managed to open his lips, move his tongue, force words through his throat, things might have worked out differently. He could have said something – I'm sorry, I'll do better, don't leave, why are you going, did I do something wrong, was it me, was it Mom, whatever it was I'll fix it, please just stay, please turn and look at me, I'm sorry, I love you, let me say goodbye…

But it was all for naught, all of it; his wishes, his wondering, his unanswered, unasked questions, his unspoken words, his unheard cries…his father had sailed away from him years ago, and even if he did possess the power to rewind time, he wasn't sure he'd find the right words. He wasn't sure he'd ever find the right way to say goodbye.

These past three months had changed everything.

Seven years he had spent, seven years wrapped in an oversized black jacket, seven years spent on a homemade knockoff of a solar surfer, seven years spent wondering and hoping and searching and wishing, seven years spent looking to the sky, seven years of sleepless nights, seven years of endless sorrow and guilt and grief, seven years spent hurting and hating himself, seven years wasted trying to think of how he could have said goodbye.

And this voyage had changed him; Silver had entered his life, and the last thing Jim had ever expected was to grow to like the gruff, demanding galley cook – yet in some strange way, he had. Somewhere between scrubbing the deck and steering skiffs, somewhere between rinsing dishes and scraping barnacles, somewhere between searching for treasures and sailing through the stars, he had changed, both within and without.

In the warm glow of Silver's pride, his jacket fell away; his solar surfer paled; his nights became restful; his resentment, his bitterness, his brittle smiles and dishonesties collapsed and crumbled when met with the cyborg's unyielding nature. Nowadays, when he tipped his head back to look at the sky, he did it only with the intent to look at the stars.

Three months had passed in a blink, and within them, he hadn't thought for a second about the right way to say goodbye.

For the first time in seven years, watching the glowing Spaceport Crescentia draw nearer and nearer, he felt content. Everything had worked out; they'd found the loot of a thousand worlds; BEN had found his mind; they had survived the explosion; he'd managed to open the door to the spaceport; the RLS Legacy had made it through; Silver had proven himself an honest friend, despite the mutiny; the captain had told him there was a good possibility that he might be accepted into Interstellar Academy after everything he'd done; he and Doppler had managed to work out a version of the story that largely glossed over the dangers; and now they were nearing the spaceport, they were heading home, and Silver—

Jim's heart gave a sudden jolt. In the action and excitement and heat of the moment, he had not considered the old cyborg. But the captain was a woman of her word, and she'd vowed to see the mutineers hung, every one of them, and Silver was one of them, Silver was a mutineer, a pirate…they'd send him to the gallows. The man he had come to love, the heartless pirate with the heart of gold, the man who was almost like his father…

At these unpleasant thoughts, the teenager shot an instinctive glance toward the staircase, where he had last seen the man – but Silver was no longer there. The cyborg had disappeared. And even when he turned abruptly from the rail, tearing his gaze from the approaching spaceport, blue eyes scanning the ship, every inch of polished deck, every mast, every sail, the shrouds, the bowsprit, even when he pushed past BEN, ignoring the robot and the doctor and their questions, and raced for the galley entrance, he knew. Even when he gazed unseeingly down into the darkness of the quarters below, he knew. And even when he turned, bolted away from the steps and raced across the deck, tearing into the hangar, he knew.

He knew, and he could not be angry; the crew was distracted, this might be the only opportunity Silver had of escaping with his life; he couldn't be angry if the man was trying to get away now, trying to leave, but he had to see him – had to see that warm gaze, that gap-toothed smile, had to say something, anything, it didn't matter what anymore, he didn't need to work out the perfect goodbye, the right goodbye, just so long as he got to say it at all…

Jim rounded a corner, and his heart plummeted like a stone.

The hangar was empty.

He stood a moment, blood pounding in his ears, lump forming in his throat, grief rising up like a great wave, threatening to engulf and drown him, sorrow threatening to smother him.

And he couldn't stand it.

The hangar was empty, the longboat wasn't there; the ropes had vanished from their posts, nothing remained, it was clear what had happened, but the hatch…Jim sucked in a slow breath. The hatch was still open. "S-Silver?" His boots, pounding on the thin metal platforms, sounded extraordinarily loud in the thick silence as he closed the distance between himself and the hatch. "Silver?" He knelt by the open passageway, staring out into the empty sky. His own voice echoed back to him, hollow and empty.

The hangar was empty; the longboat wasn't there; the ropes had vanished from their posts; the hatch still swung open; nothing remained.

Silver was gone.

And he hadn't even gotten to say goodbye.