* This is what I think might've happened after Jim returns to Montressor. I was also inspired by one of the deleted scenes from the movie. And I tried to keep this as canon-compliant as possible, while having to fill in some blanks because of how long the voyage was, and how vast this movie's universe is.
Warnings and genres: angst, drama, burn-out
Edited By: PrintingPisces
Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcomed.
Part 1
"They weren't exactly singing my praises when I left home…But I'm gonna change all that."
"Are you now? How so?"
"Uh. I got some plans. Gonna make people see me a little different."
"...Sometimes…plans go astray."
The portal opened, and a stark crescent appeared against an azure backdrop. Jim whooped and hollered, cheering in exhilaration alongside the crew of the Legacy as Treasure Planet imploded behind them. A debris of riches rained down over them, burning to ash. But narrowly escaping death in the most insane way was more important.
They were all alive. Thanks to Jim. He had done it. He couldn't believe it! He flipped the board, laughing joyously into the Etherium, all the while Silver sang his praises from the portside railing.
The last few years, since his father left, had been bleak. It felt like he never got the chance to find his footing. Then, the map fell into his possession. As the spaceport drew ever closer, he knew that finding that planet was quite possibly the best thing to ever happen to him. He wasn't going to let anyone down – not his mother, not Silver, or even himself – ever again. It was time for a fresh start, one that would begin the very moment he set foot on Montressor's spaceport.
It was time to go home.
The hallway was nearly as tall as a ship's mast. It allowed the sounds of a conversation – Arguing? Negotiations? – to mutter through the large expanse. At the helm of the conversation was a woman's voice, one who professionally commanded to be heard and minded. She never yelled or even sounded threatening. Her words were clear and concise, straight to the point, but still open for discussion whilst the rest of the room strived for an actual argument. She wasn't having any of it, wouldn't be baited, Jim could hear that much even if he couldn't make out actual words.
He sat out in the hallway, next to a closed door. Beyond the door was a lecture hall, where everything was currently taking place and where everyone was asked to be gathered. Except for him. He hadn't exactly been invited. But his friend boldly brought him along anyway, hoping that the faculty would at least want to meet him.
Jim crossed his arms, staring anxiously at the floor. He couldn't hear what everyone was saying, but he could hear the tone of their words. His friend was confident and assured of herself. The others…sounded doubtful and hesitant.
His jaw was already tense, but he nearly ground his teeth together when squeaky wheels came closer.
A custodian wheeling his cart strode down the hall. He stopped upon seeing Jim. He tilted his head. Then, he nodded at him. "I just came from the lecture hall. They got a door on the other side," he explained. "I take it you're the one they're talking about?"
Jim shrugged a little. "Yup."
The custodian blinked, and then he narrowed his singular eye a little. "Aren't you Sarah Hawkins' kid?"
Oh, man.
Jim resisted the old urge to glare at the obvious scrutiny. He exhaled harshly instead. "…Yes." Had to pick his battles. Couldn't forget that. And he certainly didn't want to start anything here. This place was the start of his future. He was sure of it. He couldn't, wouldn't, mess that up.
"Huh," the custodian mused. His eye was no longer narrowed. To Jim's relief, he seemed more surprised than anything. "Well, not everyone gets to walk these halls. But Captain Amelia's no liar." He gave Jim a sort of kind half-smile. "I'm not a teacher here, so I can't say much, but…Good luck to you."
Jim exhaled again, this time more easily. "Yeah," he muttered. "Thanks." But his nerves couldn't bring himself to smile just yet.
The conversation from inside the hall wore on for quite some time. Every passing minute felt like hours. At some point, someone attempted to interject, but was expertly cut off. Jim blew out a puff of air. Not too many people attempted to do that to her.
At last, the door opened. Through it stepped a tall and graceful woman. "Well," she said, the pupils of her cat-like eyes adjusting to the contrasting light of the hallway. "That was more monotonous than I anticipated."
Jim stood up quickly, eyes wide with anticipation. "So…?"
She nodded for him to follow. "Come. Let's have a walk and a chat."
A frown overtook him, and it felt like the air could be knocked out of his lungs any second if he didn't get answers. He stared at the door.
Observant as always, she allowed Jim a small reassurance. "They're still talking amongst themselves. This is all very unusual for them."
Jim tried not to sneer. "You mean I'm unusual."
"You're an unusual case," she clarified calmly.
He frowned deeply. "How many people here have a record?" However, he didn't word it as a question.
She wasn't fazed, but she had the politeness to let a small silence linger. Jim wondered if she did that for his benefit. Then, she turned away from him. "Don't over-think it, Mr. Hawkins."
Not exactly wanting to be left alone to his own thoughts right now, he gave the door one last scowl, and caught up to the Captain. They meandered aimlessly through the halls, passing the time until the faculty made some sort of decision. It was currently well into the evening, with the students already in their dormitories. Everything was peaceful, and quiet. The pristine marbled floor glistened brightly up at him, like dust from a comet. A comet only months ago he could reach out and touch.
Jim shook his head at the contrast.
He asked the Captain if the faculty believed her about Flint's trove.
She smirked cleverly. "Of course they did. They certainly weren't expecting such a tale, but it didn't take long. I was a student here when I was your age, and my reputation has preceded me all these years later." The pride in her voice faded as she glanced critically at Jim. "As does yours, as it were."
He winced sharply and scratched the back of his neck. "Uh…Yeah."
"Thankfully you never served time anywhere. They'll overlook your record."
Jim stopped, as did the Captain, and he stared at her with disbelief.
"Are…Are you serious," he asked. "They'll do that?" He paused, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. "They're gonna...Does this mean I got accepted?!"
"After I spoke of your accomplishments during the voyage, they're all rather impressed at what you've achieved. As they should be. I believe they're simply working out the nuances. Hopefully, we shall hear from them momentarily."
Jim stared down the hall, a wide grin spreading over his face as he emitted a breathless chuckle.
"Mr. Hawkins." The Captain's seriousness brought his attention back to her. Her expression was stern. Very stern. "I have no doubt that you'll be accepted here. And these halls will have yet another worthy student. Only the finest spacers start their future here. I wish you the best."
Jim opened his mouth to respond to that, until one of the faculty members turned around the corner. He said that the headmaster will see him now.
Before Jim went through the door of the lecture hall, he took a steadying breath. He straightened his back, mustering some more confidence, something Silver had once taught him. "The crew'll think you got rickets soon enough otherwise, lad," he had cackled, and Jim smiled fondly at that.
"I'm ready for this," he muttered to himself as he stepped into the room to meet the headmaster.
What he really meant to say was, "I need this."
After the headmaster had found a loophole in their "rigid policies against accepting juvenile delinquents", as he put it, they soon moved onto the discussion and topics of Jim's classes. The Captain helpfully supplied her insight for that, telling them what Jim excelled in, and what needed improvement. As soon as that was brought up, Jim put his complete faith in her for the remainder of the meeting. He actually couldn't focus long enough to really contribute much more. He was far too ecstatic.
Huh. He never thought the day would come where he'd be excited about school.
Several minutes later, he was bursting through the front doors, jumping out into the streets, headed for the skiff. He hollered triumphantly on the way. Sure, he had some catching up to do. Schoolwork-wise, he was trying to enter during the middle of the school year. But in that moment, it didn't matter. He'd been accepted into the academy.
His future started now.
More than several days later, he woke up one morning to tiny gusts of wind ruffling his hair, along with happy chittering. He mumbled grumpily, tired from the amount of studying he'd already done so far. He rolled over to avoid the disturbance. Unfortunately, this caused the sunlight from his window to blind his closed eyes.
His hair was still being relentlessly ruffled. "Morph," he muttered. "Come on. Cut it out."
"Cut it out," a small and shrill creature mimicked, and then dissolved into giggles, realizing that Jim was starting to wake up.
"I mean it," he warned weakly. "At least close the curtains or something."
The creature suddenly started licking his face, and his hair, nuzzling as he went.
Jim didn't have the heart to ever bat him away. Although, when he opened his eyes, he still managed a weak glare that was directed at the pink blob. "Why do you like mornings," he asked.
Morph grinned down at him, simply happy that his friend was now awake.
Jim snorted. "What do you want? Something to eat," he asked as he begrudgingly shuffled out of bed to get dressed.
Honestly, though, Morph was pretty self-sufficient. He ate whatever anyone else was eating, slept whenever he needed rest, and would open a window and leave when he needed fresh air. Jim had promised him they'd be going to the market for groceries today, something his mother had asked, and he assumed that's why Morph was all but bouncing off the walls. Morph was an extroverted little thing, and the bustling streets were irresistible to him. Jim didn't exactly hold the same opinion, but it didn't bother him as much as it used to. Plus, he really needed to get out for a few hours.
In his room was a desk that he was borrowing from Doctor Doppler. The doctor firmly believed that he needed a proper surface to work on, and he was right. Jim couldn't even see the top of the desk anymore, all covered in textbooks, papers, pencils, and holo-cubes and spheres – almost similar to the map. Currently, he was reading about cartography.
Which he knew almost nothing about.
One would think that being the holder of a map that spanned the entire universe would be enough to ace this course. But alas. Cartography was a mix of science, astro-geography, some physics, and math, and he had to apply all of it at once.
He also quickly found out how lacking he was in other subjects. Ask him to power up a ship or a solar surfer? No problem. Ask him to navigate a debris field? Piece of cake. On the other hand, if someone asked him for the chemical components of certain fuels, or the distinct physics of asteroid gravities that varied between star systems…Well, let's just say he had a long way to go. After all, he barely paid attention in school before all this.
Over the next few minutes, while he got ready for the day, he glanced at his desk periodically, at all the things he thought he knew, but actually didn't.
The night previous, he stayed up until the early morning hours, just staring tiredly at a page, but not remembering what he literally just read. Gradually, he felt an overwhelming bubble within his throat and chest. Actually, that bubble felt more like a harsh and heavy chunk of coal from a steam-powered cargo vessel. Cartography was just one of the many subjects he had to study up on before next semester, if he wanted to be up to par with the other students in his class. Next semester was only a few months away. The amount of work that was in front of him made it feel like days though.
Eventually, he had to slam the textbook closed and go to bed.
Now that morning had arrived, Jim shook his head rapidly at how ridiculous he was being. He even chuckled a little for good measure. If he could spend months on a pirate-crewed vessel, learning the ins and outs of space travel, then a heavy amount of schoolwork should be no problem.
Jim scoffed lightly at himself, causing Morph to fly over to him. "Don't mind me, Morph," he said with a slight grin. "I'm just being dumb."
He expected Morph to grin back, but only saw a small scowl. Before Jim could ask him what was wrong, he heard voices coming from downstairs. It sounded like his mother was talking with a few visitors. His brows came together. "Wonder whose here," he asked aloud, pulling on his socks and boots.
Morph turned into a nail that was being driven into a board by a hammer.
Jim gasped. "Oh, man! I'm late! Why didn't you say anything?!" As he yanked on the last boot, tripping over his own feet in the process, he only vaguely heard Morph's semi-irritated warble.
Jim jumped up from the floor and, after sparing one more glance at the desk, closed his bedroom door and jogged down the stairs. Morph followed closely behind.
The stairs were a trek, bound to leave anyone exhausted by the time they reached whatever floor they were headed. Jim and his mother were staying at Doppler's home, the large observatory not too far from the university campus Doppler had studied at. It was a building he'd inherited after promising to get it renovated for any future astronomers and physicists wishing to learn. Until the university decided at the last minute to build their own observatory from the ground up. Go figure. Not like the doctor ever complained, gladly keeping all the science equipment for himself.
Jim ran full speed down the last staircase, hooking his hand around the banister at the last possible second to avoid skidding across the floor. He saw that everyone was gathered around the large dining table.
By definition, everyone comprised of his mother, the doctor, now Morph, and a pair of contractors. The contractors were twins, almost exactly identical, and they came from a very respected company, only the best at home and commercial building in this star system. Montressor was largely a mining planet. Aside from the nearby spaceport, it was the only thing that put this planet on any maps. Looking back on it, Jim was surprised that Montressor even made it onto Flint's map.
These contractors, who had everyone gathered around some blueprints and rough sketches, were not off-worlders, and they knew the planet well. It would be all too easy to accidentally build over a mineshaft or a pocket of escaped gas. For those reasons, Jim was the one to recommend them to his mother.
Jim probably looked a little out of his mind right then. Shirt creased from picking it up off the bedroom floor instead of his wardrobe, hair uncombed, lungs heaving from running down a couple flights of stairs like he was being chased by pirates all over again. It wasn't the most professional way to join the meeting, but hey, at least he managed to show up. That was good enough for him. He wanted to oversee things and make sure his mother would be happy with how the new inn would turn out.
"Hi," he panted as he greeted everyone. "What I miss?" He walked over to join them, doing his best to ignore a slight cramp in his foot.
"Are you alright," his mother asked him. "Were you surfing all morning?"
"Pfft, no. I wish," he muttered, hoping he was imagining the bitterness in his own voice. His solar surfer was still at the impound lot after being confiscated all those months ago. Between studying and helping his mother with plans for the inn, he hadn't had the time to pay the fees to retrieve it. Which was fine, he supposed. His mother needed that money more. In any case, he actually considered building a new board. Not a bad idea, just to get back into a hobby that meant so much to him. "Sorry I'm late," he finished dully.
His mother sighed, but not too upset at all. "It's fine. No decisions have been made yet." She looked at the contractors, who were staring at Jim. "Gentlemen. This is my son, Jim Hawkins. He's funding this project."
Running down the stairs was enough exercise for a lifetime. As a result, his hands were sweaty. He hastily dried his palms on the side of his pants before extending his hand.
The contractors only stared dubiously at him.
Confused, Jim dropped his hand slowly, fidgeting his fingers against the air as he did so. "I really am sorry. My…alarm clock wasn't really straightforward." He stifled a wince, not only because it had been sometime since he'd made up an excuse for something, but also because he made a dig at Morph. Even though Morph was obliviously munching on a biscuit, it still wasn't fair to him. Jim sent a silent apology glance his way.
"Are you," one of the contractors asked, the slits of his eyes growing observantly wider. "…the Jim Hawkins?"
He frowned a little. "Uh…Guilty?"
Doctor Doppler, ever proud of their achievement of Treasure Planet's voyage, stepped forward. Much to Jim's mild annoyance, as he was never really a fan of being touched, Doppler slung an arm around his shoulders. "That's right, gentlemen. This is the founder of Flint's trove. Why, you should've been there. More adventure than one could-"
"The same Jim Hawkins that flew a surfer through restricted airspace a couple months ago?"
Jim's mouth went dry, and his jaw clenched.
"The same airspace overtop a mine's refinery site," the other contractor added.
Jim opened his mouth to say something, but only a wordless sound of hesitation came out.
His mother stepped in. "He already answered for that at the time," she told the contractors, but they were relentless.
"What about crashing a surfer into a row of drafting tables?"
"Ruining our construction site?"
Jim's mother gripped the side of the table. "He was thirteen then."
"Charged with reckless endangerment, I hear," one of the contractors commented.
"Taking a stolen skiff for a joy ride," the other added.
"Then crashing that, too."
Jim stood frozen to the spot as they continued. How the heck did these people even know about all those incidences?! Until he realized that…most contractors would have to clean up his past messes. Jim's eyes started to burn with anger, as well as prickle with remorse. Which was worse or better, he had no idea.
"Now that's enough!" His mother's voice echoed through the observatory, causing Morph to flinch sharply and drop his food. "Whatever happened in the past, that's where it will stay. What's happening right now…" she jabbed a finger against the table. "…is this."
One of the contractors exhaled sharply through his gills. "And you said your kid…is the one funding everything? How?"
The contractors stared expectantly at Jim.
Jim looked mutely at the blueprints, especially the one his mother was still pointing at. Right. That's why they were all here. This was the task at hand. Not only was it a job to be done, but it meant the world to his mother.
Jim spoke up for the first time in minutes. "Money," he answered. "From the voyage." The jewels and coins that Silver had managed to nab were now converted into modern currency. It wasn't much in the grand scheme of things, but it was more money than they'd ever owned before. It wouldn't last them very long, but it would be enough to build and open the new inn, as well as fund Jim's schooling.
"Right," a contractor said dubiously. "The famous Treasure Planet voyage."
The other one all but snorted. "Loot of a Thousand Worlds, I hear."
Jim wasn't imagining the derision in their voices whatsoever. He narrowed his eyes. "What," he asked, not caring how clipped he sounded. "Think it's not real?"
"We're not daft, son."
Jim's lip instantly curled. "Don't call me that."
But the contractor barely heard him. "Flint was real. That much was proven. But no such treasure ever existed. You clearly read too many scary stories when you were little."
"Oh, it was real, I assure you," Doppler said amicably. "I was there the whole time. And if you don't believe us, you can take that up with the Captain of the Legacy."
The two contractors were, unfortunately, not impressed.
"Right, yes. The captain of mutinous pirates?"
"Of multiple dead crew members? Including first officer Arrow?"
It felt like a bucket of glacial moon water had been dumped over Jim's head.
Doppler glared almost viciously at them. "Now see here-"
Jim interrupted, his voice shaky beyond recognition. "None of that was the Captain's fault!" His legs were shaky, too, the wind from a black hole roaring in his ears and throwing him off balance. He had no idea how he was staying upright.
Doppler continued vehemently. "A Captain of her caliber can't be found elsewhere. Ask anyone!"
During all this, the contractors had started to neatly gather their belongings. "And we're not saying that she isn't deserving of that caliber," one of them began. "But let's face it. It was a doomed voyage from the start. I don't believe in fairytales." He eyed Jim. "Especially one with a felon at the helm."
Jim's mother glared at them. "How do you think we can afford to pay in full? Where do you think the treasure came from?"
"You found a treasure. Not the treasure. And of course you did." He turned his attention to Jim again, who was glaring exhaustedly from across the table. "But not honorably. Pirate money is blood money. We all know it." He tipped his hat towards Jim's mother with, unfortunately, genuine sympathy. "Shame your son had to fall in with them, ma'am. But we won't be a party to it."
The other contractor pointed to what remained on the table. "Keep these blueprints. As a show of good faith. Good luck building your inn, Mrs. Hawkins."
Jim was numb, still frozen as he watched the contractors take their leave. Too much had happened just now. There were so many skeletons in his closet – more than he cared to ever admit or think about – and these two strangers randomly decided to resurrect them. His breathing came and went in short gasps that tasted utterly bitter. His vision felt limited, like he was flying through an asteroid's crater. What he could see was a slideshow, bright and holographic in his mind's eye.
Crashing construction sites.
Destroying property.
Surfing over people's heads.
Arrow's lifeline.
Yellow spider eyes.
Silver's greed.
His mother crying. Always crying.
Jim briefly clenched his eyes shut against the onslaught.
She was crying right now. Silently slumped in a chair, hiding her face in her hands to keep the frustrated tears at bay. But Jim knew that she was crying all the same. And he couldn't watch that ever again, knowing that he kept causing it.
He opened his eyes with a flinch when the contractors shut the door behind them as they left. The blueprints lay forgotten on the table. In the background, Jim vaguely heard Doppler's irritation, not understanding how someone could disrespect the Captain like that, and if there was any way to report such a thing.
Jim finally leaned against the table, and he needed the support. Three blueprints stared back at him. Three different awesome designs that would now never be used. From upstairs, Jim knew that his money – his treasure – was safely tucked away beneath a floorboard.
Beneath that floorboard was his mother's future.
Jim's eyes narrowed. This was all wrong. He knew his reputation; he knew how most people saw him. But it was unacceptable for that to reflect on his mother. If that ever happened in the past, he wouldn't let that happen now.
He whistled sharply for Morph. When he spoke to him, his voice was strained, but determined. "I need you to get the money. Meet me outside." He only needed to hear Morph's 'aye-aye' of confirmation before he was grabbing his coat.
"Jim," Doppler asked. "Where are you-"
"I'll be back," he told him curtly as he slammed the door shut behind him.
Before the contractors could climb into their skiff, Jim caught up with them and stepped in their path.
Their eyes widened. "What do you want now," one of them asked.
After catching his breath, Jim crossed his arms. He leaned his back against the starboard rail, making sure they wouldn't leave. That said, it was two against one.
Was this what Silver meant by picking his battles?
Whatever. He was already here.
Jim took another breath. "I want you to build my mom's inn."
"We already told you-"
"Say what you want about me," he bit out. "You and the rest of Montressor need to get in line. But everything I've done…She's not part of that."
One of the contractors shook his head pityingly. "Boy. She's your mother."
Morph suddenly flew into view and dropped the pouch of coins into Jim's upturned palm. The contractors heard the jingle from within, and instantly sobered. They weren't greedy, but they were still people who wanted to put food on their table.
"I'm making you a deal," Jim told them, hoping he sounded professional rather than demanding. Looking back on it, it was definitely the latter. "And I'm not stepping aside until you agree."
"Not much of a negotiation then, wouldn't you say?"
Jim ignored that comment. "I know I'm in the way." He swallowed thickly. "Story of my life. But if you agree to find a safe location for the inn and build the main foundation…" He tossed the coin pouch into the air with a tense flourish. "Then this is yours."
The contractors looked at each other contemplatively.
"And who builds the remainder of the inn," one of them asked.
Jim scowled. "Suddenly you care?" Another toss. "Either way, you get paid."
The contractors turned their backs to him, muttering discreetly to each other. Morph chirped curiously and transformed into an ursid's ear, one with a gold earring attached to it. Jim caught him quickly, knowing that eavesdropping might not be the best port of call right about now. Anxiously, Jim scratched beneath Morph's chin when he changed back, all while staring holes into the contractors' backs.
When they finally turned around, Jim let go of Morph.
"Well, kid," one of them said. "You drive a hard bargain."
"It helps that your mother is an upstanding member of this community," the other said. "You have a deal."
And finally, they shook hands with Jim.
"Your mother has until tomorrow evening to decide on the plans. We do have other projects, y'know."
Jim shrugged curtly, not the least bit interested in whatever else they did, so long as they got the inn started.
One of them stared at the pouch, almost in disgust. "We'll pretend you acquired this money…honorably." He reached out for it.
But Jim swiftly held it away. "Hang on," he said, remembering what Silver had once taught him of money exchanges and deals. He took out only a handful of coins and passed them to the impatient contractors. "The rest'll be yours when the work is done."
They shook hands once more – on Montressor and the surrounding planets, a handshake was a binding deal – and Jim stepped aside so they could board their skiff. Unfortunately, as he walked back to the observatory, and as the skiff's engine powered on, Jim could hear snippets of conversation. He wasn't sure he was meant to hear any of it.
"Wonder where the kid learned to negotiate like that. His mother doesn't talk like that."
"That kid teaches himself. Skull's too thick. Who would bother?"
Morph had been resting on Jim's shoulder, but he was suddenly flung through the air when Jim reeled around to face the skiff. His teeth were clenched in a silent snarl, ready to throw his remaining professionalism out the window. But it was too late. The contractors launched into the air and sped towards their office at the spaceport, leaving Jim to inhale the dust and soot from the engine.
He then stared at the ground, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Eventually, he started walking. Stomping, more like. He let the heels of his boots scuff against the stone path, not caring if they made a racket that upset the neighbors. He just needed to drown out…everything. Morph trilled and nuzzled concernedly against his ear, and Jim gave him a pat that couldn't adequately convey his thanks. The creaking hinge of the front door was also helpful in that moment. But it wasn't enough. He needed to get out for a bit. He needed…he needed something to do.
The doctor got in his path, curiosity etched over his features. "I was looking out the window," he said. "What did they say, Jim?"
Jim glanced towards his mother, before quickly looking at the floor upon seeing the dried tearstains on her face. Tears that he had caused. He cleared his throat. "You have until tomorrow to decide on the blueprints. And then they'll get to work."
He heard his mother gasp, and the legs of her chair squeaked as she stood up. "How did you manage that?" Her question wasn't an accusation, though he'd been waiting for it. It was just genuine.
Jim merely shrugged. "I showed them what they would earn, reminded them who you were, and the rest is history."
Arms came around him then, encasing him in a hug that was always surprisingly strong. He clenched his eyes shut again, because like the ungrateful kid that he was, he leaned into her. But he couldn't bring himself to hug her back. His head was reeling again. Not too long ago, after a hellish incident with a black hole, another set of arms had hugged him like this, with one of them made of metal and gears.
He flinched sharply. Same as this one, he didn't deserve that hug either that day.
With his last shred of consideration, he pushed slowly away from his mother, ignoring the thank you that she said. He responded with, "Where's the list?" And he finally looked at her.
Her brows were furrowed together. "…What?"
"The list," he emphasized, his voice devoid of emotion. "The groceries. Just…" He ran his hand frustratedly through his hair. "I need something to…" He needed a job to do, he realized much later. But he just couldn't put that into words at the time.
Her voice was still heavy with confusion, but she brought out the list of groceries. "I was gonna send B.E.N. to do that in case the day got away from all of us. He has some free time."
Jim took the list from her, and stuffed it into his coat pocket. "Come on, Morph." And yet he didn't need to tell Morph twice. He followed after Jim quick as a shot, and tucked himself against his neck, still chattering worriedly.
Morph was naïve, but not oblivious. A lot of the times, he could read a situation – or in this case, a person – rather well.
They left out the door.
Jim was busying himself by preparing the skiff for takeoff. The best groceries were sold by the merchants at the spaceport, which meant this could be an all-day trip. Not that Jim was complaining.
The squeak of posh shoes treaded lightly towards him. They belonged to Doppler. Jim looked over the railing at him.
Doppler exhaled. "Your mother just wanted me to check on you. That's all."
Jim got back to work, tinkering with some loose wires that weren't actually loose. "I'm fine."
Another sigh. "I'll tell her you said that. But Jim? I have an inkling of what's going on. Would you…Would you like company?" It was an awkward question. To this day, the doctor still had no idea how to connect with Jim, which wasn't a bad thing and was completely understandable.
Jim let the poor man off the hook. "Help mom with the blueprints," he said. "Morph's keeping an eye on me." On cue, Morph's eyes grew comically wide, staring at every little movement Jim made.
"Well," Doppler supposed. "At least someone is." He then mustered a chuckle.
At the risk of pandering, knowing that the chuckle was meant in jest, Jim half-smiled at him, but it had no energy behind it.
Before he could maneuver the skiff away from the dock, Doppler had something else to say. "And Jim, one last thing." He placed his hand on the railing. "You and I both know now that Mr. Arrow's death was never your fault."
Jim's face screwed up.
The doctor tentatively dropped his hand when he saw that look. "I…I just wanted to remind you of that." His words were not pitying, or coddling. They were the truth, but the doctor was also so far off the mark it was nearly laughable.
"No," Jim muttered, grabbing hold of the skiff's tillers. "You don't know what's going on."
He launched the skiff into the sky. He was flying fast, a straight line, directly to the spaceport. It was his only destination in mind. This flight wasn't meant for fun. His mother had given him a job to do. Actually, quite unintentionally, she made sure that Jim had two jobs. For the time being, just the groceries. But the second thing?
Just for now, Jim left out the part where he would be the one to finish the remaining construction of the inn. If his deadbeat father could build the first one, then so could he. Between his school assignments, he would find time. Somehow.
Jim passed another skiff on the way, possibly the one with the contractors, but he didn't stop to look. Gradually, though, he did slow. He switched both tills to one hand. With the other now free, he rubbed his fingers harshly over his eyes and down his face.
He heard a trill.
"Don't worry, Morph," he muttered. "I can handle it."