warning: more graphic torture

Even as a child, Delbert had been fascinated by space. His father had been quick to indulge his interests- the first birthday present he could remember getting from his parents had been a telescope. Something about the night sky had always had a calming effect on him. Now, however, as he stared out the window of his room the stars gave him no comfort. All he could think of was Jim. Tonight, the vast reaches of the Etherium were no longer promising, but daunting. Tonight, he wouldn't only be explaining his actions to himself, but to Sara.

He and Amelia had agreed. As long as the pirates were at large Montressor was not safe, not for Delbert or Jim's mother. The comfort of his home wasn't worth the risk. If Jim managed to escape, and Delbert was willing to bet his life that he would(if he hadn't already), that was the first place the pirates would look. While Admiral Blake was still skeptical about their tale he at least believed Sara to be in danger. Her inn had been burned to the ground by pirates, after all. The constabulary had backed up Delbert's story. In fact, one of the constables had agreed to escort Sara to a rendezvous point, a small trading planet they'd reached earlier that evening. She was supposed to arrive any moment.

It had been decided that he would tell her what had happened to Jim, given their history together. They had been friends since Jim had been born. Delbert had even known Leland, though not as well as he knew Sara. And now, tired eyes searching the heavens as if he might find an answer there, he prayed that their friendship would be strong enough. That she would understand.

There was a knock on his door. Delbert set his glasses back on his nose with a sigh.

"Come in." One of the guards Blake had posted outside his room poked his head in the door.

"Mrs. Hawkins is here to speak with you."

"I'm expecting her, thank you." The guard disappeared, and a moment later Sara strode into the room. She pulled her shawl away from her face, her frantic gaze searching the room for a face she would not find.

"Delbert, where's Jim? Where's my son? Why have you brought me here, what happened?" Her questions ran together, making his headache worse. He went to her side and took her hands in his.

"Are you alright?" He asked. She nodded.

"Delbert, please. No one will tell me anything! Was it the pirates? Did they follow you?"

"Not exactly." He shook his head and led her to the small table in the room. "Please sit down. There's a lot I need to share with you." As soon as he'd said this the kettle began to whistle. He distracted himself with preparing the tea, using it as an excuse to gather his nerve.

She took the cup he offered her, letting it warm her hands, but she didn't drink. Instead she waited as Delbert poured a cup for himself and took a seat next to her her.

"I...naturally I hired the most upstanding crew I could find on such short notice. There weren't many, and my choices were limited. I chose what I thought was my best option. When we got to Treasure Planet-"

"You found it?" Sara gasped. Delbert nodded.

"Its real. All of those stories are real. What I didn't realize was that the pirates that attacked us, well...somehow they managed to disguise themselves as civilians. They were the crew I hired." Sara's eyes widened.

"What?! Delbert!"

"I hadn't the slightest idea, I swear. I thought I could trust Cresentia's security but I guess they had inside contacts. When we got to the planet, Jim discovered their intentions to mutiny as soon as we found Flint's trove. We got away from them, but Morph- he was a sort of pet of one of the pirates..." He told her about Jim's plan to get the map back, and about how he'd insisted on going alone. Sara's face grew pale. Delbert then told her about how the pirates had captured them. How they'd found the treasure, and how Jim had chosen to save his friends instead of joining the pirates, something no other young man in his position would've done.

Then came their escape. He'd been careful to keep his eyes focused on his teacup throughout his tale, and the glass had fogged up from the steam.

"Sara..." He took off his glasses under the pretense of cleaning them. In truth he didn't want to see the look her face. He just couldn't. "Jim stayed behind." He heard her sharp inhale, but forced himself to keep going. "He's the only one who could open the map, and he knew that if he tried to come with us the pirates would only track us down that much faster. He stayed behind to give us our best chance of getting away. You were brought here because if he finds another way out, the same pirates that burned the inn down would most likely swarm Montressor, looking for either him or you. You would've been in danger." He paused a moment, giving her time to collect herself. When he could no longer fiddle with his glasses for fear of snapping them in half, he slipped them back onto his face.

Tears were streaming down her cheeks, fat droplets splattering on the tabletop. Her lip quivered and she dropped her cup. It smashed on the floor, sound making her jump.

"It's my fault," she sobbed. "He just wanted to make me proud. I pushed him, I wasn't there for him." Her shaking hands fumbled for the locket around her neck. She opened it and just as it had on that fateful night, the locket began to play a series of memories she'd collected over the years. All of them Jim, his smile as he grew up. "My poor baby..."

"Sara, no," Delbert took her hands again, squeezing them in an attempt to reassure her. "Don't say that. Jim is a brave, smart young man. He has a good heart, you know that. And he has you to thank for that." He wiped away a tear, and she looked up at him.

"I just want him back." She cried. "I just want my baby back." Delbert hugged her, and she clung to him as the last of her resolve melted away.

"I know," Delbert soothed.

"He's a good boy. He's always been a good son. I love him, I love him so much Delbert, I just want him back..." He held her close as she sobbed.

"We'll get him back, I promise. We'll bring him home. I'm so sorry Sara."

Amelia hesitated before leaving the room, pulling the door shut behind her. Neither of them had seen her, having been so engrossed in their discussion. Amelia had felt it was only fair that she be there. After all, it had been her plan. Delbert shouldn't have to take all the blame. She had dreaded the thought of meeting Sara Hawkins under these circumstances, as telling a parent their child was missing was never an easy task. So she'd gone to try and support Dr. Doppler.

But when she'd seen them there, holding each other...well, she'd felt as though she were intruding on them. It was only then that several things seemed to click in her mind. He and Sara were old friends. Delbert had probably gotten a lot closer to her since Jim's father had left them. It was only natural that they be in a relationship. Why hadn't the thought occurred to her before? She shook her head. At any rate Sara didn't seem to be mad at she or Delbert. Instead she'd been quick to blame herself, the poor woman.

Amelia returned to her own room, nodding at the guards outside before slipping through the door and bolting it shut behind her. Her eyes landed on the sextant sitting on her table. That was odd, as she hadn't left one there, but Amelia shrugged it off. Blake had probably left it, along with the charts she'd asked for. After flipping through them a moment, she realized that the star chart for their next waypoint was missing, and that she was going to have to go ask him about it. She sighed, and laid down on her bed. It had been a long day. A long several days, actually. It could wait until morning.

She must've dozed off, because when her eyes opened again her room was dark, the lantern having gone out. Amelia reached for the light switch and flicked it on. Her eyes grew wide as she pulled the pistol from it's hiding place under her pillow, flicking the safety off.

The sextant was gone. Someone had been in her room.

Jim leaned his head back against the bars with a sigh. He'd decided he hated being in the brig. As a kid, he'd hated it when his mom had grounded him. There was nothing worse than being stuck inside all day, and as soon as he'd learned how to sneak out his bedroom window without breaking his ankles, she'd quickly learned that method of punishment was useless. Being locked up on a ship was considerably worse, especially when said ship was being captained by pirates.

A pipe seemed to have sprung a leak somewhere, he could hear the steam. He tilted his head with a frown as he tried to figure out where it was coming from. His eyes sprang open, a chill running down his spine that froze him in place. Not steam. Hissing. He held his breath and sure enough the titter-tatter of spindly legs clicked down the stairs behind him. Only when the shadow he knew all too well fell over the wall opposite him did Jim dare speak.

"I-I didn't say anything," he stuttered. "Like you said."

"Good."

"You said you'd let me out."

"What did he sssay to you?" Jim swallowed and looked down at his bloodstained boots.

"He just wanted to gloat about his new eye," he mumbled, trying to sound put off. Scroop's own eyes narrowed. He reached through the bars and lifted Jim by the collar of his ragged shirt. Jim winced as the sore, blistered skin of his chest was stretched painfully. The shackle went tight around his bruised and chaffed ankle.

"I think itsss time you and I became...better acquainted, don't you?" There was a mocking tone to his voice. He dropped the boy and turned to the door, pulling the key ring from his pocket and unlocking the cell. Jim could only watch as Scroop entered the cell. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat. Scroop pulled a strip of cloth from the pocket of the vest he wore. His mouth twisted into a wicked grin. Jim shook his head.

"No, please I-" Scroop backhanded him, then punched him in the stomach, knocking the air from his lungs. While the boy was dazed Scroop tore the remains of his short over his head, and shoved his hands into the shackles that hung on the walls. Jim squirmed, helpless, as the cloth was tied around his eyes, casting him into darkness. Jim clenched his jaw shut. He heard what sounded like metal sliding against metal, the mental image of his mother sharpening kitchen knives springing to mind.

The freezing steel sliced over his chest, and he felt his blood begin to seep from the wound, dripping down his torso. Again and again the sharp metal danced over his skin, severing blisters and ripping his skin open, but Jim refused to cry out. Just another minute, he told himself. Just hold out for another minute then give him what he wants.

It was then that the knife began to dance lower. And lower. As the pain got closer to his waistline his resolve seemed to crumble. Frantic squirming only rattled the shackles around his wrists. He began to plead, to try and barter for the torture to stop, and when that didn't work he tried shouting for help. When no one came he started to cry. The knife dug deeper, sending pain shooting up his side. Jim cried out, dissolving into hysterics. A sound reached him over his own wailing.

Scroop was laughing.

It was an ungodly sound of its own accord, a rasping, rattling noise, like a cat choking on a hairball but so much more malicious. Jim felt cold. A voice in his head was shouting that he was bleeding out and he was going to die, but that voice was being drowned out by a rushing sound. His mind felt like it was shutting down. He felt dizzy.

The blindfold was ripped away. Jim blinked as his eyes readjusted, then, despite the wave of nausea that gripped his stomach in painful knots, looked down. He felt relief wash over him, there was no blood. Only water. Confused, he peered up at his tormentor to see the pirate was holding a large shard of ice, about the length of Jim's forearm. Its sharpened point gleamed in the lantern's light. On the ground beside him sat a real knife, and a metal rod used for sharpening them. Scroop brought his face so close to Jim's that the boy almost gagged from his rank breath.

"If I find out you're lying, boy, you'll learn what real pain feelsss like." Scroop unlocked his hands, ignoring him as he fell to the floor in a crumpled heap. Too dazed to move Jim listened as the cell door was locked. Scroop took the only lantern, leaving him in pitch black darkness. Jim stared at the ceiling, unblinking.

He should be grateful. He should've been thanking whatever power was keeping him safe. But the truth was that every encounter he walked away from virtually unscathed left him even more on edge than the last. Pirates could only stave off their bloodlust so long. How could Jim know what to expect? Would he be tied to a post only to have rotten food thrown at him, or would Scroop shred his flesh with a whip? Would he blindfold him, restrain him, and cut off his fingers and toes, or would they burn him with the end of his cigars? These games couldn't last forever, and Jim wasn't ready for real pain. Everything he'd been through had been child's play compared to what these men were capable of.

Fuck the treasure. Fuck Billy Bones, fuck that damned map, none of it was worth this. Jim wished he'd never heard those stories. He wished he'd gone to juvenile hall instead. A part of him wished he'd left that spacer on the docks to die. Curling up on his side, Jim buried his face in his shirt. When he thought no one would hear him, he started to cry again, his terrified sobs muffled by the fabric.