Days turned into weeks while Silver and Sarah did all they could to make themselves useful in the wake of the tragedy that had forever changed the lives of so many people. Each day brought more news, more bodies, and more dying, but gave them nothing concerning the one person that they were both looking for. Their hopes were slowly drowned out by the tears of mothers and wives who ceaselessly wailed at the horrible news that their son or husband would not be returning home. Fathers wept for hoursover lost wives and daughters, while strangers simply stared on in hopes that family and friends that had once been passengers would be returned safe and sound. Of course, most understood that such fates would be otherwise, but Silver and Sarah held hope. They knew Jim was strong, and that as long as he still had breath in his lungs and blood in his body, he would fight to see them again, if only for one last time.
Or that was what they had believed at first. But as time waned, news began to dwindle. Hopes sank and were hushed, like the strength and lives of so many victims that both Sarah and Silver had seen come and go in passing. Soon, the possibility of seeing Jim alive everagain had disappeared, and they found themselves hopelessly trudging through their days upon Salvus in a stupor that found no end.
After two months, they finally decided that it was time.
At long last, Sarah came forward. She told John Silver that she would be returning to Montressor, and apologized for what she had believed to be a great wasting his own time, even if it had meant everything to her that he had stayed by her side.
It was raining the lastevening of Sarah and Silver's stay. They'd spent countless days upon the docks of Salvus with absolutely no news of Jim or his whereabouts. Search teams had come back with either corpses or with nothing at all, save perhaps some of the remaining bits of the ship. Heavy hearted, both Silver and Sarah knew that there would be little else that could be given to them. Closure was now as far out of their minds as their first hopes of seeing Jim alive.
A mournful silence overcame Silver from the point Sarah had declared that she would be returning home. In a sense, he recognized it as her giving up on Jim and his strength. Of course, it wasn't as though there was much else she could do. Two months should have brought them some news, or so he had believed. Anything, at least a shred of evidence. But no, that had not been the case. They had both finally settled on leaving after so many days of waiting, sorely disappointed and deeply broken hearted over the matter. It seemed logical to believe that Jim was gone, and that there would be no return; cheerful, tearful, or anything of the like. He was simply gone, and though the concept was easy to grasp, it was very difficult to swallow.
Their last night together, Silver sat up at his table and stared sadly out into the nighttime sky. Constellations that were both new and old to him peppered the midnight sky, and his talented spacer's eye had no trouble in pinpointing a few nearby planets. None of this brought comfort to his heart though. Somewhere out there was Jim, or what remained of him, and even though very little of the true universe was opened up to Silver at that particular location in space, he knew that even from here there was no way to even generalize where Jim might be.
A familiar coo awoke Silver from his thoughts, and he turned to find Morph hovering sadly beside him. The metamorphic creature's sad face revealed to Silver thathe did not fully understandthe reason for so many somber faces amongst his friends and adopted family. He looked at Silver questioningly andthen transformed into a small figure that he knew all too well. It was Jim: his hair trimmed,dressed in a well-pressed academy uniform: brass buttons and all. A genuine smile creased the young, miniature face, and Morph had even managed to mimic the boy's youthful, carefree laugh. Tears swiftly welled in Silver's eyes, and he had to turn away his gaze as Morph reverted back into his true form. Again the creature cooed, but he received no words of wamth from his former master. Instead Silver extended his forefinger which Morph landed on, accepting the perch morosely.
"Jimbo ain't coming back, Morphie," he declared after a few moments, understanding the intentions of the creature's behavior. Morph's face grew long with concern and sadness. Silver sighed. "He's gone," was all that he could bring himself to say. The creature's bottom lip quivered, and Silver believed that he understood. Silently, and heavily, Morph hovered back into Sarah's room where he could already hear one person weeping quietly.
Sighing once more, Silver rested his head against the back of his chair. He watched the stars sparkle in deceptive joy and beauty. It was a dangerous, alluring beauty, he knew. The Etherium claimed many lives, for so numerous were the dangers out in space. These past weeks had been a primary example of those dangers, and the tragedy that ensued from them. Unfortunately, this time, the lesson had struck too close, and Silver was painstakingly relearning a lesson he was certain to never again forget. As if the loss of half of his body hadn't been enough, fate had wielded him yet another lesson. And this one had been even more painful.
A tear trickled slyly down his drawn cheek. Silver didn't bother wasting any effort in trying to wipe it away. His sorrow was too deep to be concealed anymore. The most precious thing in his life was gone. He could afford himself the tears now. And those tears came. One, two, and then suddenly the dam within him burst. All Silver could do was allow his head to sink into his arms while his heart sank into darkness.