Jim's Sick Day
A random glow of light shone through my closed eyelids, indicating morning. As an attempt to return to sleep, I rolled over, feeling the warmth upon my back. I groaned, wishing the sun would just vanish, so I could resume sleeping. If I hadn't needed to prepare the crew their morning breakfast, I most likely would had remained in bed. The captain's angry scowl flashed through my mind, motivating me out of bed and onto my feet.
I walked over to the small mirrie connected to my dressing table. My patch of brown hair stuck up at odd dangles, due to tossing and turning throughout the night. With a flip of my gears, I changed my cyborg arm into a comb. The plus side of being part metal. I ran the comb through my short brown hair, straightening out the tangles, stopping only when the comb no long tugged at the knots.
Satisfied with the result, I switched my built in comb for my cyborg arm and placed my head on top of my head before heading for the door. With my organic hand clutching the door handle, I used my spare arm to reach towards the hanger, surprised when I grasped only air. Confused, my gaze flicked to the empty hook that my coat usually occupied. I scanned the surrounding area, but my coat was nowhere to be seen. Did I leave it in the Galley last night?
Suddenly, last night's event came rushing back to me. Jimbo had dozed off to sleep after scrubbing a wagon load of various cooking supplies. To prevent the lad from freezing to death, I'd rugged him up in my coat and headed off to bed. It was most likely still with Jimbo. With that mystery solved, I swung open my door and headed down the hallway towards the Galley.
When I arrived at the Galley, I saw no signs of Jimbo, nor anything indications he'd previously been here. His exhaustion most likely caused him to sleep longer than usual. Just this once, I let it slide. He'd worked hard and deserved a sleepin every once in awhile. However, if he was not here by at least eight, I'd go disturb him from his slumber.
Dismissing my previous thoughts of the boy, I proceeded to start preparations for breakfast. I decided to cook some bacon and eggs today, I only made that once and thought it would be a nice change from the usual bonzabeast stew. Plus, the lad appeared to be sick of having the same one meal for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
I fetched the bacon strips from the fridge and threw it on the stove. While that cooked, I retrieved the carton of eggs from the same location. With expert skills, I tossed two eggs into the air, caught them and cracked them on the side of the pan, allowing them to join the bacon. I grinned at my cooking skills. If being a pirate ever fell through, I could always take up a career as a chef. I would call my restaurant 'Silver.'
A pink blur flew into my line of vision, breaking me from my musings. When my gaze focused upon the creature, I realized it was my dear little Morph. He chirped a greeting and buzzed around my head. Energetic as always.
I chuckled and raised a finger, allowing the little blob to perched himself on top of my thumb. "Good morning ta yer too, Morphy."
"Good morning, good morning," Morph mimicked, abandoning my finger and circling around me.
The corners of my lips twitched into a smile. Morph was such a ray of light. He never took anything serious, but he still understood people's feelings and always tried his best to comfort them. I was grateful to had met Morph. He'd been such a loyal companion, always at my side no matter what happened. I'd hate to think how life would had been if I hadn't landed on that planet and rescued Morph from those creatures. Poor little guy was terrified.
Distant footsteps broke me from my reverie. Blinking several times to snap myself back into reality, I flicked my gaze to the stairs just in time to see Jimbo ascending from them, dragging a black coat behind him, too big for him to carry.
With a grunt, the boy hefted the material onto the table, then met my gaze. "Thanks," he said, a genuine smile laced his lips.
"Ah, so that's where me coat was. Looked all over for that," I lied, covering up my act of kindness from last night.
"Right..." Jimbo stretched the word, unconvinced by my previous statement. Still, he hadn't pushed the conversation any further, sparing my bruised pride.
Abandoning the stove, I went over to the bench and collected my coat, wasting no time in slipping into the material. I sighed in relief as warmth spread throughout my body. It was still freezing outside. Even though the Galley was a safe haven compared to the icy deck. A cold breeze still managed to seep in through the opened hatch. I looked forward to warmer weather. I hated the cold.
With my body temperature returned to normal, I flashed the lad a toothy grin. "That's better."
My smile dropped as I examined his face. His usual tanned skin was pale white, apart from his nose and cheeks that had blotches of pink. His eyelids drooped as if he was fighting to stay awake and his regular sturdy posture was hunched over. He didn't appear to be in the best health. It was only when I was face to face, I'd noticed this. It was possible he'd caught a cold and, to be honest, it was no surprise considering he'd slept all night in the Galley.
"Are yer okay, lad? Yer don't look the best," I said, reaching across the table to lay my flesh hand atop of his forehead. It was boiling hot, further confirming my previous thoughts.
Annoyance creased his brow and he dismissively waved away my hand. "I'm fine. It's just a bit of a cold. No big deal. I've suffered worse."
"Maybe yer should take the day off, lad. I'll talk to the captain and-"
"Uh, Silver."
"W'at?"
"Your food is burning."
Remembering the bacon and egg I'd left on the stove, my earlier concerns for the lad fled, filled with worry for my cooking. With superman's speed, I rushed over to the stove and snatched the pan away, hoping to save whatever was left of breakfast. Thankfully nothing caught on fire. I set the pan down and accessed the damage. Apart from a few burnt areas, it wasn't too bad. I'd gotten to it just in the nick of name.
"Nice save," came Jim's reply, an amused grin lite his face. "But I'm not having that one."
"Don't yer worry, I'll be savin' t'is for Scroop." I winked at him, lowering my voice as I spoke, afraid the spider might be within hearing distance.
"You seem fine in here without me, I'll go sweep the deck." Without waiting for a reply, he crossed the room towards the corner where the broom was usually kept.
"I still t'ink yer should rest today," I tried again.
"It's not like I'm dealing with food."
"But yer are goin' ta be up on deck where the climate is the coldest," I reminded.
Jim waved away my logic and shrugged. "I'll be fine." He must had noticed my worried expression because he added, "If it gets too much, I'll come back here."
Knowing that Jim wasn't about to change his mind anytime soon, I sighed in defeat and said, "Alright, lad. Just take it easy."
With a mock salute, the boy headed up the stairs, broom still in hand. My gaze remained on the stairs long after he'd left. Worry churned in my stomach and I debated weather I should rush up the stairs after him, demanding he head to bed and sleep. But, considering how stubborn the boy was, it would only cause a scene for the rest of the crew. No doubt the captain would scold us for our disturbance aboard the ship.
I was quickly reminded of Morphy. With an idea in mind, I turned in the direction of my pet. He sat atop the bench, nibbling on the burnt piece of bacon. I marched over to my pet and patted his head. He abandoned his food and leaned into the touch, cooing affectionately.
"Morphy, I have a job for ya." At that, he landed on my shoulder, providing me with his undivided attention. "I need yer ta keep an eye on Jimbo. The lad doesn't appear ta be feelin' t'at great, but he's too proud ta admit it. If anything happens, report ta me immediately."
With a tiny salute, the little blob flew up the stairs, after Jimbo. I figured the boy would be fine. It was probably just a minor cold, but no shame in taking extra precautions.
Knowing that Morph was keeping an eye on Jim, I resumed my task of making breakfast. I threw a few more bacon and eggs onto the stove, keeping a close eye on them this time. The last thing I needed was to start a fire during this voyage. We couldn't afford to replace the kitchen. Also, this was most likely the captain's own ship, so she would demand I pay for the damage. I didn't have that sort of money, not until we landed on Treasure Planet. Then I would have enough to buy fiffy ships. I only needed one, though.
Still, no matter how hard I tried, my mind kept returning to Jim. Despite his claims that he was fine, he was clearly sick. The lad should be rugged up in bed, sound asleep, away from the freezing cold that befell the deck. But no matter how I tried to reason with him, Jim refused to admit I was right. The lad's cold would only worsen if he were to continue this way. Sure, maybe I was overreacting. It was probably just a minor cold that would vanish in a day or two. But still, I couldn't rid myself of this worried feeling.
Why did I care if he was sick or not? If he was doing the work, it shouldn't concern me how he was feeling. These past few days, my feelings and attitude towards the boy had changed. I'd been a lot nicer and more protective of him. When the heck did that start? My intentions had been to run the lad ragged to keep him off our trail, but the more time I spent with him, the more I began to care for him. Maybe it was out of pity because his old man abandoned him as a child, maybe it was out of guilt because I burnt down his home, or maybe... I actually viewed the kid as a friend...
Thankfully, Morph broke me from those thoughts. Only thing was, my mind refilled with new worrying thoughts, like why was Morph here when I sent him up to keep an eye on Jim? Unless...
"Morphy, is Jimbo alright," I asked, trying not to jump to conclusions.
My heart sank as Morph transformed into a miniature version of Jim. The tiny Jim sweeped the deck with the broom. He appeared fine. But without warning, he swayed to the side and fell to the ground.
My heart sped up and worry for the lad exploded in my chest. Before leaving, I switched off the stove, ensuring a fire didn't start while I was away. I rushed up the stairs, following after Morph who blasted past me, also appearing just as frantic for the lad's well being as I currenty was.
I exited the stairs and onto the open deck. My heart leapt into my throat as I noticed a familiar lump on the deck, formerly known as my cabin boy. Before my brain could process what my legs were doing, I was already at the lad's side, cradling the boy in my arms. He remained unconscious, even when I shook his shoulders. The redness on his cheeks had spread across his nose. His breathing quickened, chest rising and falling. His cold appeared to be worse than I had anticipated.
I scanned the deck, it was deserted considering it wasn't even seven yet. Most of the crew woke up around seven or eight. I was thankful for the lack of witnesses. As worried as I was for the lad, it wouldn't serve either of us well if I was caught caring for the boy. No amount of excuses or toughness would get me out of this awkward situation.
My gaze returned to the young lad in my arms. He still remained unresponsive. I sighed, wishing he'd just outright told me he wasn't feeling that well, then he could have been rugged up in bed, fast asleep, instead of lying on the frozen deck. When he woke up, I was going to give him a long lecture about being honest with me in the future, to avoid situations such as these.
Deciding I needed to get the lad out of the cold, I tucked one hand under his lower back and the other under his legs, then climbed to my feet. I watched Jim's expression, besides his eyelids twitching slightly, he showed no indications of waking up anytime soon. Abandoning his broomstick behind, I carried the boy all the way back to my own private quarters. As I hadn't wanted to raise any unwanted attention by returning him to his own hammock.
Since my hands were full, Morph opened the door for me. I silently thanked him with a smile before slipping into the room, hearing the door lightly shut behind. I carefully lowered the boy onto my large bed and brought the blanket up to his chin.
With a sigh, I collapsed on the edge of the bed, my gaze remaining on the boy. His breathing remained at rapid speed. I was worried he wasn't getting enough oxygen to the rest of his body. A shiver gripped his youthful body and he jolted to the side, curling up into a tight ball, teeth and fist clenched. Morph flew over to Jim, whimpering at the sight of his new friend. The usual careless teenager becoming a frail mess. The sight broke my heart.
Unable to watch the boy suffer any longer, I stood and wandered into the large cabinet in my room, collecting some more blankets to decrease the boy's cold.
Though, by this point, I was thinking it was more of a flu than a cold, considering the more severe side effects. I instantly regretted leaving the boy out on deck yesterday. I'd figured he'd simply just catch a minor cold and it'd be gone in a day or two. I hadn't intended for things to end up this way, especially not with me actually taking care of the boy.
With a sigh, I returned to the boy with an armful of blankets. I wrapped him up in three various coloured blankets, ensuring he was warm in the hopes of bringing down his fever. It worked for the most part, his violent shivering seemed to had decreased a small bit. Next, I decided to fetch the boy a glass of water. If he awakened while I was gone, his throat would most likely be dry and sore. I returned to the room with a paper cup and a large jug of water, setting them on the bedside table, within reach for Jim.
I stared at the boy's sleeping face, his breathing still quick. Not much I could do about that. I'd done everything I could possibly do to bring down his fever. I wanted nothing more than to remain at his side, taking care of him in his current state. But I had to finish up cooking breakfast, otherwise the crew would be having me for breakfast.
Before leaving, I rested my flesh hand atop his forehead, his fever was still high, showing no indications of the lad recovering any time soon. I jerked back as he began coughing, rolling onto his side, completely exhausted. My heart tightened in both sympathy and guilt, as I was the reason the lad had caught this nasty flu.
"Morphy, I have ta return ta work. Yer take care of Jimbo while I'm gone, okay?" I ordered.
Morph nodded happily and wiggled in the tiny vacant spot next to his head.
I smiled warmly at the scene. My worry easing up slightly, knowing Jimbo was in good hands. Morph would never let any harm come upon the boy and I believed that. With a heavy heart, I left the room, taking one last glance at the two before shutting the door.
Returning back into the Galley, I resumed my food preparation. Since the half cooked bacon and egg had been left up on the side for far too long, I had to unfortunately throw it in the bin. Such a waste. I would had given it to Morphy, he'd eat anything, but I didn't need my pet to fall ill like my cabin boy. The last I needed was to care for another sickly person.
I tossed some fresh bacon and eggs onto the stove. As they cooked, I quickly headed up to the deck and fetched Jim's broom. It'd look suspicious had anybody saw it just lying there. I was probably just overthinking things, but I didn't want I raise any unwanted attention from my crew. Best to hide away the evident. Scroop would use anything to turn my crew against me. He'd been after my position since the start. No reason to give him something he could exploit.
Arriving back in the Galley, I carelessly dropped the broom into the corner where they belonged. Ensuring all the evident were taken care of, I returned to the stove to check on my food. Confirming they were done, I tossed them onto a nearby plate and set another batch to cook.
When I'd ensured I'd cooked enough for the entire crew, I figured it was late enough to pay the captain a visit. Leaving the Galley, I proceeded up the stairs towards the large metal door, occupying her stateroom. This was probably the third time since starting the voyage that I'd travelled to her stateroom. Hopefully this wasn't going to be a habit.
Lifting my cyborg arm, I pounded heavily on the door, the metal vibrating through my body and eardrums. Withdrawing my hand, I stepped back and patiently waited for an answer.
After several seconds, I heard a familiar female's voice from within the door, "Come in, Mr. Silver."
Surprised that she knew it was me, I lingered outside the door a moments longer, gathering my courage and running through what I planned to say. With a gulp of air, I pushed opened the door and entered, allowing it to slam shut behind me.
As every time, the captain sat at her deck, pen in hand, scribbling across a piece of paper. She didn't even look up upon my entry to ensure it was indeed me.
"How did yer know it was me?" I questioned when the silence stretched to an uncomfortable level.
"Because you are the only one that seems to come to my stateroom," she replied, dropping her pencil into the cup to rejoin the others and rolling up the paper, tossing it to the side.
I silently waited. Finally, she turned her attention to me, large green cat eyes appearing to look into my soul, as if searching for my reason for being here. I fought the urge to awkwardly shift under her watchful gaze.
"What brings you here this early, Mr. Silver? I do hope you have finished preparing breakfast."
"Ah, don't yer worry, captain. T'at is all taken care of," I reassured, waving a dismissive hand. "I actually came ta speak wit' ya 'bout Jim."
"Again?" she questioned, raising a thin eyebrow. "I do hope this isn't going to turn into a recurring thing."
"O' course not, captain."
"Very well. What is it that you wish to speak to me about?"
"Well..." I sighed, searching for the right words to explain the situation. "Jimbo, you see, is feelin' a bit... under the weather... He fainted t'is morning and I t'ink he may had came down wit' the flu."
"Where is Mr. Hawkins at the moment?" she questioned, a hint of worry touched her eyes.
"In me chambers."
"See to it that he remains there. I do not wish for Mr. Hawkins to cause the rest of the crew to fall sick."
"Aye captain," I agreed, though I was a tad worried about the lad spreading the sickness to me. It wouldn't go down well if the cook were to fall sick. I'd just have to take extra precautions like wearing a safety mask and gloves. It sounded ridiculous when I imagined it, but better safe than sorry.
When the captain remained silent, I took that as my cue to leave. Politely tipping my hat, I turned around and headed towards the door. I'd just pulled the door opened when her voice sounded behind me.
"Mr. Silver."
"Aye, captain?" I questioned, turning around to face her, one hand still holding the door opened.
"I trust that you will be taking care of Mr. Hawkins, correct?"
I stared at her for a moment. The fact that she just figured I'd be the one tending to the boy's needs sent a jolt of surprise throughout my body. Not trusting my own voice, I simply just nodded.
"Very good. I will see if I can find some medicine that will help speed up Mr. Hawkins recovery."
Without another word, I left. As I journeyed back to the Galley, I couldn't shake off her words. She'd just assumed I would be caring for the boy while he was bedridden. Maybe she'd just said that because he was currently in my room. Still, the Doc could had done the task. He was practically part of Jim's family. I was just the boy's boss and he was simply just my cabin boy. We weren't friends. We were required to work together. Then why did I care so much for this kid?
Arriving back at the Galley, I saw my crew chowing down on the food I'd prepared. Dismissing my earlier thoughts, I decided to whip Jim up something to eat. In his current state, he wouldn't be able to consume solid food, so bacon and eggs were out of the question. Bonzabeast stew had too many large chunk in it, so that was out too. Maybe I'd just prepare him a bowl of chicken soup. It wasn't too chewy and required no effort to eat.
Considering we had canned soup already pre-prepare in a tin, I fetch that from the cabinet. It was laziness, I knew. Fresh hand made chicken soup was the best, but I couldn't spare any time making that for the boy. This way was quick and easy. Using my built in tin opener, I cracked open the can and poured the content into a large pot, adding half a can of water and milk. I snatched a wooden spoon off the nearby bench and stirred the contents.
"Not going to join us, Silver?" a voice questioned from the table.
Still stirring the soup, I cocked my head over my shoulder in the direction of the voice. My crew sat at the table, all eyes upon me.
"Nah, don't much feel like bacon and eggs today," I lied. If I'd confessed how Jim was unwell, they'd accuse me of going soft.
"Where'sss the cabin boy?" Scroop questioned, large yellow eyes searching the area as if the boy would just suddenly appear out of thin air.
"Probably off workin' somewhere." I waved a dismissive hand, taking the now cooked soup off the stove and pouring it into a bowl.
"I haven't ssseen him all morning." A mischievous grin laced his lips as murmurs of agreements sounded from the table.
Eager to cover up the lad's wear abouts, I hurriedly said in a completely calm and casual voice, "Well, remind me ta search for t'at lazy brat later. Now if ye'll excuse me."
Without another word, I grabbed the bowl and headed off in the direction of my rooms, anxious to escape this discussion before they dug too deep and discovered the real reason Jimbo was not up and about.
"Where are you take that bowl?" Scroop questioned. Of course he couldn't resist one last jab.
"Ta me room ta finish it off. Any further questions?" When I received no answer, I gave a satisfied nod and continued to my quarters.
Thankfully they had dropped the subject. I was an excellent liar, given years of practice, but my crew knew me well, especially Scroop. He could tell I was bluffing, trying to protect Jimbo. My crew would turn on me in a second if they knew. Couldn't let that happen.
I sighed heavily in relief when I'd arrived at my room. Jimbo was still fast asleep, an arm draped across Morph. His health hadn't improved while I'd been absent. It'd appeared to had worsen. His breathing was still rapid and his fever was still through the roof.
I left the bowl of burning hot soup on the bedside table and sat at the edge of the bed. My gaze fell upon the sickly boy. His body no longer shivered with chills, like it had before I'd left, instead beads of sweat littered his face. He was obviously suffering from hot and cold flashes. Poor kid.
Regaining my feet, I ripped the blankets off his small body and tossed them to the floor. Hoping that would lighten his now burning fever. I decided to fetch a bucket of cold water and a cloth, in the hopes of bringing down that nasty fever. When I returned, the lad had flopped onto his back. Morphy, who'd woken up, floated above his head, whimpering.
With a sigh, I approached the two, reassuringly patting Morph on the head. Another whimper escaped the little blob and he perched himself up on the bed board, large worried filled eyes remaining on his friend. Morph appeared just as concerned as I felt, hopefully Jimbo recovered quickly so we both could relax.
I carefully lowered the bucket of water onto the floor, making certain I didn't spill a drop. The water splashed around in the bucket for a second before calming. The clear liquid created small ripples on the surface. With a grunt, I knelt beside Jimbo's bed and dipped the cloth I held into the water provided. Lifting it out of the liquid, I ringed out the excess water before placing it on the lad's forehead. Here's hoping this brought down the boy's fever.
The moment I retracted my hand, Jimbo's eyelids twitched and a soft groan escaped his lips, indicating signs of waking up. I leaned forward, protectively resting my organic hand atop his arm. Slowly, his eyes cracked opened, staring blankly at the ceiling. I waited, not moving a muscle. Finally, he blinked several times and turned his head to the side, eventually landing on me.
"Silver?" Jim questioned, his voice stiff and croaky, signs of his cold showing.
"Aye, lad. I'm here. How yer feelin'?" I climbed to my feet and perched my body onto the edge of his bed. Jim's gaze followed me as I did so.
"Like my head's about to explode."
I chuckled at that. If he was still able to make jokes, he'd recover in no time.
"W'at happened? W'ere am I?"
With what little strength he had, Jim attempted to sit up, but that only resulted in him immediately plopping back onto the pillow. He tried several more times, but it only ended with the same outcome. Feeling the guilt gnawing at my heart again, considering it was partly my fault he'd fallen sick, I reached a hand forward and pushed lightly on his chest, confining him.
"Stay still, lad. Yer sick. Yer just fainted on deck a little over an hour or so ago. Best not to strain yerself."
"Fainted?"
"Seems yer came down with a nasty flu," I explained, lightly patting his shoulder as a way to comfort him.
"So... Where am I? This doesn't look like the crew's quarters," Jim further questioned, struggling to move his head to scan the surrounding area. Blue eyes sweeping over my own personal room, a look of confusion evident in his gaze.
He'd only ever been in my room once, during that time he'd tagged along with the rest of the crew and drank a little too much. I'd allowed him to sleep here until the alcohol subsided. Being as intoxicated as he was, he was an easy target for the crew. Though, considering how blacked out drunk he was, he probably wouldn't remember spending the night here.
"This is me own private quarters. The captain t'ought it was best yer stayed here wit' me rather than infectin' the rest o' the crew."
"You have your own private quarters?" His face scrunched up in both jealousy and envy.
Really? That was all the lad got out of that sentence. Not the part about infecting the crew with his illness. Geez...
"Aren't you worry you'll catch what I've got?"
"Ah, don't be worrying about me. I'll be fine." I waved a dismissive hand at his concerns. "Any germs come me way, I'd just fight em off."
"Uh-huh..." came his mumbled reply, unconvinced by my statement.
"Alright, enough blubbering. I made yer a bowl o' hot soup ta eat. Well, probably no longer hot considering yer took ages ta wake up."
"Blubbering?"
Ignoring his questioning of my word choice, I plucked up the bowl from his bedside table and rested it in my lap, feeling the warmth radiating from the bowl. I dipped the spoon into the content, gathering some creamy goodness onto the utensil and presenting it to the boy.
"Eat up." I held the spoon in front of his face. He stared at it, his mouth forming a thin line, unamused. His eyes flicked up to me, raising an eyebrow. "W'at?"
"I can feed myself."
"Yer can barely sit up!" I argued, holding the spoon out of his reach when his hand made a grab for it.
"I'm fine," his croaky voice replied, struggling to grasp the spoon.
With a sigh of defeat, I handed over the spoonful of creamy soup. The second I released my hold on the utensil, his weak muscles were unable to hold up the extra weight. The spoon immediately slipped out of his grasp, bouncing off the bedsheets and clattering onto the floor. Unfortunately, his shirt suffered the brunt of it, having spilt the spoonful of soup onto the material. Luckily, it wasn't hot.
Hiding my smugness, I plucked the spoon off the floor and dipped it in the bucketful of water still at my feet, cleaning off the dirt and grim it'd suffered from the fall.
"Still want ta feed yerself?" I questioned, grinning as I scooped up another spoonful of soup.
The boy glared at me, clearly unhappy about the arrangements. "Just don't tell anybody."
"Only if yer don't tell anybody 'bout how much o' a softy I am."
A surprising laugh escaped Jim's lips. The sound melted my heart. It was a rare sound that I got to hear, but it was... delightful. I would do anything to keep that smile upon his face. I cared for this boy. Maybe it was just because he reminded me of myself when I was a young lad. Still, he needed somebody to watch out for him and care for him. I promised myself I wouldn't get attached to this kid, but...
Dismissing those thoughts, I focused on the task at hand. Spoon still in hand, I steered it towards Jim's opened mouth. His face scrunched up in possible pain as he swallowed the soup. I waited a moment before feeding him another bite. It continued that way until the bowl was mostly empty.
When the lad showed indications of tiredness, I ceased my hand feeding and dropped the bowl onto the bedside table. Exhausted, the boy slumped back against the pillow, his heavy breathing resuming. Beads of sweat littered his forehead.
Guilt gnawed at my heart. Yesterday, I said I wouldn't had minded if the lad fell sick because it would had meant some peace and quiet. Now that my wish had came true, I was beginning to regret it. In a way, I missed the energetic teenage I came to know. It was painful seeing the boy so fragile and weak.
My gaze flickered to the wall clock. It was nearing lunch time. I didn't want to leave the lad in this state, but I also couldn't abandon my kitchen duties, unless I wanted my crew to plot a mutiny against me. The captain would probably also disapprove of putting Jim's needs before my work. I just couldn't bare the thought of the lad silently suffering in this room alone. Sure, it was just a mild cold, but still...
With a smile, I said, "Yer want ta hear a story, lad?"
Jim shifted his warily gaze down to me, taints of red adding a splash of colour to his pale face. "A story?"
"Aye, might help yer get ya mind off t'at t'ere cold."
"Don't you have to prepare lunch?" Jim questioned, raising an eyebrow.
"Ah, don't yer be worrying over petty t'ings such as t'at." I waved a dismissive hand through the air. "T'ere's plenty o' time ta get t'at done. Yer want ta hear t'at story?"
With stiff and weak movements, Jim managed a slight nod, a small smile forming on his lips.
With Jim's attention upon me, I began running through all the possible stories I could tell him through my mind. There were a few about pirates and fighting, others about death and violence. Considering the lad was unwell and feeling a little down, I settled with a more lighthearted story starring little Morphy. Wasn't that hard to think up considering the amount of trouble the little mischievous blob had caused me during the past years.
I span my body around so I was completely facing the boy. His gaze remained on me, awaiting my thrilling tale to begin.
"Alright, the story begins several years back, after I met Morph..."
As I told my story, I demonstrated the scenes with my cyborg arm, adding to the effects and excitement of the tale. There were a few parts I visibly had to cringe and face palm at, preferring not to remember the embarrassing scenarios Morph put me in. Jimbo, however, found them hilarious. The boy's warm and soft laugh sounded throughout the room, the sound most likely vibrated up to the deck for the entire crew to hear. I paused for a second, listening, finding myself even smiling at the sound.
I dismissed those sudden thoughts and resumed my tale. Nearing the end of the story, I began noticing the lack of activity from his general direction. Pausing, I glanced over in his direction, the mystery of his unusual quietness solved.
After his laughing fit, the boy had dozed off to sleep with Morph cuddled next to him. One arm was draped over the blob's figure. Both of their chests rose and fell with every breathe they took, appearing calm and relaxed in their dreams.
With a smile, I stood, stretching my stiff muscles from remaining in one place for the past half hour or so. Crack. There went my back. Oh, I was getting far too old, exceeding over fifty. Geez...
With my muscles back into working order, I returned my attention to the sleeping boy. His heavy breathing seemed to had subsided, finally appearing peaceful at last. I'd hoped my story would ease up his suffering, even just slightly. The warmth Morph provided almost seemed to lighten his spirit. I reached a hand forward and rested it atop his forehead, testing his temperature. His fever was still slightly high, and didn't appear to be decreasing any time soon.
All I could do right now was watch over him until he fully recovered. When he did, I would never complain about his moody attitude or lack of respect. Anything was better than seeing the lad resort to a fragile mess.
"Goodnight, lad..." I mumbled, my hand lingering on his forehead a second longer, before retreating out the door.
I pulled the door open and was about to head out into the dim hallway, but a surprising reply caused shock to course through my veins, immobilizing my body.
"Night, dad..."
Did he just say? No, he couldn't. I must had heard wrong. There was no way he...
Spinning around, my gaze fell upon Jim's sleeping figure, still in the same position he'd been five seconds ago. Was he sleep talking? About his dad? Didn't he hate his dad? Why would he be smiling then? He'd more likely have a scowl on his face at the thought of his father. Unless... He mistook me for his father...
No, that was impossible. I was not a father figure nor would I ever be. I was a ruthless pirate. I had no time for petty things such as feelings and love. I cared for the boy, sure. But that was only because of orders from the captain. If I had to choose between him and treasure, I would no doubt choose the gold. He was a good kid and all, and I pitied him over his lack of a father. But... I couldn't be such a thing. He'd only end up hurt and disappointed. I could pretend, sure. But I would never be a father to anybody.
With one last long stare at the boy, I forced my reluctant muscles to move, allowing the door to slam shut behind me.
