Okay guys, this is chapter 9, and also the last chapter that I have written up to now. College starts for me on Monday, so my update speed is most likely going to slow dramatically. For any news concerning...anything, please feel free to visit my livejournal which is the website link on my bio page. Thank you so very much everyone for your reviews! I hope you enjoy this chapter. (hugs to you all) Take care and please review!

The next few days offered very little sleep to Silver. Not that he would have been able to get much rest anyway. Between Jim and doing his best to work on a letter to write to Sarah, Silver's mind was absolutely buzzing with concern and questions for his young, maltreated friend who, although had been no more than a few inches away from him for the past seventy two hours, had barely been able to get two words out of each time he awoke. The truth was, Jim was in no better condition now then he had been upon his arrival at Bedua. Other then the fact that he was experiencing bits and pieces of consciousness, he was still severely injured and showing no signs of improvement. It worried the old cyborg greatly to see him like this. He knew Jim was strong; a determined young man that always strove past his troubles to move beyond and grow off of them. However, what Silver saw now was not the young man he had left behind.

The Jim that lay before him was helpless and alone. He was weakened, confused, and vulnerable. The cherished youthful demeanor had vanished, and was replaced by the shadow left by death and despair. It was a transformation that Silver saw too often among old space dogs, both honest and dishonest alike, and he knew that there was no reversing that transformation. The shadow of these memories would haunt Jim for the rest of his days, regardless of how many of them he had left.

Sighing, Silver looked up to gaze at the wane face of his dear friend and realized that in a sense, Jim had died out there, for there would be no regaining that young man of the past. He had vanished amidst the stars and planets of deep space, leaving behind the empty shell of a scarred and battered body, betraying the hopes of those that had loved him.

Silver shifted his weight in his seat and leaned back, taking in the full image that was Jim. Were it not for the burns upon his face and arm, it would have been believable that the young man was merely sleeping. His face was amazingly relaxed, and he made absolutely no motions that might have indicated discomfort. Sunlight was trickling in from a window nestled in the upper corner of the room, dancing hypnotically over Jim's still soft features and warming his pale face, somehow managing to give it a slight sense of vigor. Jim's head was resting upright in an overstuffed feather pillow; his arms rested comfortably at each side while his closed eyes gazed upward into some mysterious dreams that Silver could only imagine were filled with anything but pain and great distances between him and home.

He sighed again and began to rub his tired eyes. The urge to sleep often welled up strong inside of him, but he was often able to push it away. The thought of being asleep if Jim needed him usually scared Silver into consciousness quicker than any nurse's tender pushing hand or any doctor's sharp interjections concerning his own health. He was too stubborn to worry about that, especially when Jim was in such deplorable condition. Sleep, however, found its way of sneaking up on him in the middle of the night and early in the morning. Like now, when the hospital was least active. Silver would often catch himself snoozing in his chair during these times: short naps that would range anywhere from fifteen minutes to a few hours. He had tried to refrain from doing this, but since Silver was only a man, he could only to so much, no matter how hard he pushed.

As for Jim's internal clock, the lad seemed to prefer waking up well around nine AM and twelve in the afternoon. Then on occasion he would wake up once more in the evening before falling back to sleep. Each time he would peer over at Silver and smile as though doing his best to reassure his old friend that he was all right. Or, perhaps he was just happy a familiar face was with him now. Regardless, Silver had vowed that he would not leave Jim's bedside lest it were truly necessary, and sleep had not fallen under that necessity.

Nevertheless, seventy two hours of sleepless nights caught up with him. Silver was getting worse day by day, and eventually the doctors had taken to pleading with him to get some sleep.

"Sir, you'll be no good to your son if you're hospitalized as well."

"I'll be fine."

"Sir, please --"

"Leave me be!"

Needless to say, his temper had grown as foul as the odor that crept from the street and through the windows in the few days time he had been in Bedua. Even his patience with Jim were often shown to be running thin. There were times when he just wished the boy would wake up so he could take him home. He wanted to be out of this hospital and away from this accursed planet. Morph seemed to have a similar attitude as his master, but had proved to be the cheerier of the two of them by chirping whenever Jim awoke, and cooing whenever Silver seemed to be reaching the peak of his temper. The little metamorph did what he could to keep both of his masters comfortable, and Silver inwardly had to admit that he was grateful for the creature's company and well intended efforts. But the truth was that Silver was angry, and worried. He had hoped that somehow with his presence Jim would miraculously and unexplainably improve, and that they would be able to go home and put this all behind them.

When that hadn't happened, Silver had not only realized with a foot-in-the-gut relation that this would not happen, but began to understand that with the severity of everything they had all been presented with, this would never be put behind them. He would have to see Jim the rest of his days as a disfigured youth who would most likely toss all dreams of traveling the Etherium to the winds, spending the rest of his days hidden away in the shelter of his home until at last he became nothing more than what his mother and Silver were.

And just like that, so many dreams and hopes and aspirations had been shot down out of the air like stars in the sky.

Breathing yet another sigh, Silver allowed his head to slump into his hands while his elbows rested upon his knees. Sarah had been right. He'd come here to do nothing else but watch Jim die most likely. If not physically, then in every other way known to man. Jim's spirit had already gone, and eventually so would his heart. Soon there would be nothing left but a hollow body...and that was if fate would grant Silver and Sarah some form of mercy. Suddenly, Silver snorted at the idea. Mercy? What mercy was there in taking everything that made someone who they were? For all Silver could say, Jim might as well have died. He had in every other way.

No sooner had Silver thought it did Jim begin to shudder violently in his bed. The cyborg looked up, not quite certain what this meant. Morph had begun to coo rapidly in midair, twirling and loopty-looping like a crazed insect.

"What's happening?" he asked, though hardly expected an answer from the creature.

The shuddering turned into convulsing, and Silver knew suddenly that whatever was going on, he couldn't do anything about it. He scurried out of the door of the room and immediately began hollering for assistance.

Silver sat with a long face at Jim's bedside. After three hours of being forced to wait in the lobby, he had finally been allowed to rejoin the young man at his side.

After the seizure, the nurses and doctor in charge had decided to move Jim into his own room. It made Silver much more comfortable because it offered a greater deal of privacy to the both of him, but he was still highly uncomfortable with being in here alone. No one had explained what had made Jim's health suddenly plummet and caused him to go into such a set of violent convulsions. The nurses had reassured him that it had been nothing but a small allergic reaction to some of the medication. When he asked if it had ever happened before, Silver received no answer.

He hadn't counted on his worry increasing tenfold in the last few hours today, but suddenly it had. Circumstances being what they were, he wasn't so certain that he could last much longer in this place, and if Jim didn't start getting better he'd soon waste away here. They'd both waste away.

Frowning, Silver removed both his hat and his bandana and took a short walk to the wall where he opened the window to get some fresh air. Morph chirped questioningly, but Silver didn't pay him any attention. Instead, he watched the residents of Bedua pass by underneath his nose, all of whom were perfectly clueless to his dilemma. The heat was stifling, even to Silver, who had endured many harsh climates, but there was a slight breeze that did manage to reach his blistering skin. Sighing, he reached heavily for his hat and began to walk toward the door. Morph chirped accusingly.

"I'll be back, Morphie," Silver argued, slightly upset that the creature would even consider the possibility of him abandoning Jim. "I'm just gonna be out for a few minutes."

Dear Sarah;
By now I'm sure that you're aware I have reached Bedua. I simply want you to know that Jim is here, and though his health is questionable, I have faith that he'll pull through. I will write you if anything changes, and I will write you also before we head back to Montressor.

Your Friend.,
Silver

He read and reread the letter over and over again until at last he decided that he had no choice but to sent it. Despite the fact that he did not really have much faith in the improvement of Jim's health, Silver very much lacked the heart to say so. He held his breath and handed the envelope over the mail carrier.

"Thank you sir," the alien greeted nasally. "Your letter will be received within three to five days. Would you like your package to be insured."

"No."

"Thank you for your business sir. We hope to do business with you again."

"Yeah..." Silver muttered as he walked out the door. "Whatever you say."

With his head rested against the door, Silver prepared himself to enter the hospital room again. Steadying his breathing and wiping away the beads of sweat that were now forming on his temple, he took one sharp intake of air and turned the knob of the door.

"Morph?" he called, but to his surprise found that his little friend was not alone.

Sitting propped up on a compilation of pillows and smiling brightly was Jim, fully awake and responsive.

"Good morning," he greeted as casually as though they had just met at the dining table at the Benbow.

"I..." Silver was rendered speechless. All he could do was stare on in amazement at the image before him.

Jim grinned. "Get lost?"

"...Jim?"

His smile widened.

Silver stepped to the edge of the bed, and without a second thought wrapped his young friend in a warm but gentle embrace.

Suddenly, everything looked like it was going to be okay.