One Month Later...

A harsh rapping sounded at the door of the Benbow Inn. Silver, who had already finished the nightly rounds and was just now beginning to clean the bar, looked up with a thoughtful frown. He'd only worked here a month, but he knew that late night visitors and patrons were rare in coming here.

"Wonder who that could be," he heard Sarah mutter from the kitchen.

"I'll get it," said Silver. He dropped his dish rag on the countertops and approached the doorway. A heavy rain had swept over the town in the past hour, making itself known with the vociferous roar of thunder and numerous blinding white lightening strikes. Not the kind of weather a normal person would desire to travel in. Nevertheless, as Silver opened the door, he found a stranger standing outside in such a mess, dressed all in black (and soaked to the bone) and hovering as close to the threshold as he could, taking advantage of what shelter the overpass offered him, which, Silver noticed with an air of humor, was not very much. "Can I help you?" he asked with an irritated frown.

If Silver's size wasn't intimidating enough, surely the precise glare that he now offered this diminutive creature was; cutting the words right out of his mouth as though he had sliced his tongue. Yet, regardless of how intimidated he was, the delivery boy had not forgotten his message, or at least, who it was for.

"Is...is Mrs. Hawkins in?" he squeaked from beneath the hood of his weather stained cloak. Silver harrumphed and turned to find Sarah already stalking up the isles toward the door.

"Thank you, John," she said with a smile. Sarah pressed her way between the young man at the door and Silver, who immediately stepped aside, but did not move too far away. Pulling a few stray locks of brown hair out of the way, she mustered her best smile and introduced herself as the person he was looking for.

"This is for you, ma'am," he said and handed her an envelope. Silver recognized it immediately. It was from the academy.

"Oh," came Sarah's voice which had suddenly hushed down to a hesitant whisper. "I've already received my notice, sir," she explained, eager to hand the letter back. The messenger pushed her hand back and shook his head, carefully eying John to make sure that this would not ensue in an attack.

"This isn't concerning that, ma'am," he explained while dropping his gaze.

"I see," Sarah glared back down at the envelope. Her gaze was obviously skeptical. "Then what is it concerning, sir?"

"You'll see, ma'am." He bowed respectfully, tugged his hood further over his face, and stepped out in to the rain where his form was lost against the haze and fury of the storm that was still blowing in.

Sarah closed the door behind her. She peered down at the envelope almost indignantly and settled down by a window side seat. She tossed it onto the tabletop and glared at it, as though she were not certain whether she wanted to open it or not.

"What on earth could they want?" she asked herself. Silver, who had returned to wiping down the countertops, sighed. He could not think of an answer, at least not one that he wanted to share. After the incident with Jim, his opinions of the academy had lessened dramatically. They'd barely taken care of Jim's arrangements, and in truth, they'd caused Sarah more grief than they had assistance, and in the end it had been Silver that had done all he could for the young woman. Not that he had minded, but it would have been nice if that blasted school did more for its people. Piracy had more honor...

"Are you going to open it?" Silver asked suddenly, hoping to dismiss the thought that had just crossed his mind.

"I suppose I should," responded Sarah. "Not that I care much about what they have to say."

"Well, I suppose it could finally give you reason to send that letter you wrote last month."

She chuckled, making Silver hide his smile beneath the bar stand. Sarah Hawkins had, not too long ago, written a strongly worded letter concerning the procedures at the academy, but she'd never really had the heart to send it. Silver hoped that maybe this would change that, for the letter had many good points, and most certainly voiced the opinions of many other parents who had lost their children on their year of sabbatical.

"I suppose."

The sound of ripping paper rattled the silence that filled the Benbow, and Silver calmly waited for her reaction while she read. When nothing happened, he could not help but poke his head over the countertop in curiosity. The sight inflicted from the letter was all too familiar. Sarah sat with her face in her hands, her shoulders heaving in silent sobs. With a sad sigh, Silver crept forward and placed his flesh hand upon her shoulder.

"Why don't you go to bed, Sarah," he said gently. "I'll finish up here."

He was surprised when Sarah shook her head. With a bunched up, almost furious face, she pushed the letter toward him. Silver picked it up and read it through: once, twice, three times, uncertain that he had comprehended what it was saying.

"Are they..?" Silver stopped. The words seemed too implausible to even speak.

"Yes," said Sarah after a few more moments of silence. "They think they found him."

----------

Sarah had set out for the Academy the next morning in hopes of learning more about the reasoning behind the letter. Silver had stayed behind, despite the fact that Sarah had closed the Benbow today. Luckily, they had had no patrons staying the night. However, many regulars had been sorely disappointed that they would not be able to eat at their favorite diner that morning.

Silver himself sat at the main table, drumming his mechanical fingers upon the wooden surface in hopes that he might calm his nerves. But his valiant efforts failed, for it hadn't help in the least. His thoughts kept going back to the letter, and what it might possibly mean. Of course, his common sense told him that they would finally have a real funeral, and the closure that they had all secretly been longing for. But some part of Silver hoped that Sarah would walk through that door, and in her shadow would be a one hundred percent Jim Hawkins, smiling and laughing, just as Silver remembered him.

Of course he knew that such hopes were unfounded and ridiculous. There was no way, after this much time, that Jim could be alive. He would have contacted them by now. He would have come home. They would have heard something. They would have known. There was no denying it, but for some reason Silver had never really let go of that belief. He was certain that it was due to a lack of closure, but then again, at the same time, he wasn't so sure. Something held on, as he supposed it always would. It was part of being...dare he say it...a father?

Silver sighed, because he knew deep down that, in a sense, he was. Jim had shown it, Sarah had admitted it, and Silver had felt it deep down within him. The grief, the anxiety and the tears; the sleepless nights filled with unsubstantiated hope...it was all signs of a deeper relationship that Silver had never initially been aware of.

If only he had had more time.

It was late in the evening when the door to the Inn clicked open as Sarah used her key. Her bodily actions were mechanical, but her face seemed somewhere else, as though her mind had somehow boarded a different ship as she had started on her way home. She took a few steps forward out onto the floor before her gaze drifted up to meet Silver's.

"Well?" he asked, trying to keep any discriminating tones out of his voice. He had been standing by the time Sarah had entered, but as she approached him she grabbed his arm and urged him to sit again. "Is it that bad?" Silver asked hesitantly.

"They didn't find him, John," she said after a few minutes of thoughtful silence. "They didn't find Jim."

As he had assumed would happen, Silver felt sudden anger rise within him. Once again they'd been lead by the nose to a false outcome.

"How much longer are they going to be doing this?" he asked, not bothering to hide his anger. Silver unintentionally slammed his flesh hand into the table, cursing while he did so. "They're toying with us!"

"They're not doing it intentionally," Sarah stated in hope of reasoning with him. "They're just trying to help us."

"By rubbing it in our face that they failed? And what it cost us?"

A flicker of a grin found it's way to Sarah's face, and Silver realized exactly what he had done. "Us". "Our". It reminded the both of them exactly what it was they were facing. It reminded Sarah that she was not alone, and it told Silver that he would never again be able to argue the fact he was not what Sarah claimed him to be in Jim's eyes, because Jim was obviously everything in Silver's eyes.

"It doesn't matter what they're trying to do," said Silver after a few moments. "What matters is that they keep giving you hope, and then they take it away. Are they still even looking or have they just decided to leave what's left and hope that it drifts into orbit around some nearby planet soon?"

Sarah visibly blanched at these words, and Silver was forced to bite his tongue.

"I don't know," she answered after a few moments. "I honestly don't know what they're doing. I don't care to ask. Whatever they find, it won't be Jim. Not anymore."

The two suddenly became aware of the fact that they were not alone. Sarah and Silver turned their gaze to find B.E.N. gazing eagerly at them from around a corner.

"You can come out, B.E.N.," Sarah called.

"I already heard everything," the robot replied somberly. "Nothing again?" Sarah nodded, and B.E.N. immediately traced his way back up the steps, no doubt to Jim's room where he could mope silently, left well enough alone by everyone.

More silence ensued, then finally, Silver stood. "I'm going to bed," he stated. "Unless there's something else you'd like for me to do?"

"No, John," she reassured him. "Thank you for all your help."

Silver bowed his head and trudged up the stairs, his heart growing heavier with every step. 'You're a blasted fool,' he told himself as he made his way to his room. 'To think that he'd be coming back.'

----------

"He's still in bad shape," said a young female voice. He couldn't see just yet, but he was very aware of a burning sensation that covered most of his left face and upper chest.

"It's been a month," came a male voice. "You'd think he would have snapped out of it by now."

"Not necessarily," the female voice returned. "The extent of his injuries are severe. The fact that he survived this long is, really, quite amazing."

Someone snorted off in the distance.

"Sure would like to know where he's from."

"I could probably give you an answer to that question," came the female voice once more. "Remember that ship that went down near Salvus a few months ago?"

"You're insane!" the male voice retorted immediately. "Hardly anyone survived that."

"Hardly anyone," said the female in a tone which obviously revealed that she was very strong in her beliefs. "That means there were some survivors, however few. I think he may be one of them."

"Well, it would explain the burns. The toxic gases in his lungs...everything, really."

"Exactly."

A bitter liquid was suddenly poured into his mouth. He coughed and sputtered, but it went down easily.

"He's awake!" screamed the woman at once. The two men in the room with her immediately left, calling for help. "Sir?" the woman yelled. She was terribly close now. "Sir! Can you hear me?"

"Yes."

"What's your name, sir? Can you tell me something about yourself?"

There was pause. Finally, with another cough, he answered her question.

"My name is Jim Hawkins."