Permit Me a Father Fantasy

A/N: DISCLAIMER: I don't own Treasure Planet, Jim Hawkins, or Long John Silver. Wish I did, but I don't. I ALSO don't own this title. This is actually the title for a chapter in a book: You Don't Know Me by David Klass. The title of this story belongs completely one hundred percent to him, and I only wish I possessed his writer prowess. And the best way to get to his level is to keep writing. So.

Also, this is gonna be a collection of drabbles and one-shots, and most of it's gonna be my own work, as as warning. I like novelizations of movies pretty well, but I prefer to write original content. I just needed to write this scene, because I only just noticed recently that Jim's wearing his jacket again in the Silver's Speech scene, and I needed to expound upon that. And since my brain can't leave well enough alone, I've also been making up headcanons about his jacket; it's obvious he wears it when he's not in a good place, but I needed to know where he got it and whatnot. So I made up my own story to explain it. I also noticed other things in the film that I never did before that hit me like a ton of bricks, so I'll probably be doing those in later chapters. This is just gonna be filled to the brink with Jim/Silver father/son interaction, so for those of you who prefer the romance, or those of you who despise Silver, I'd suggest you go elsewhere. (Honestly though who can hate Silver he's the best stand-in dad in the universe)

And if any of you have been reading my Treasure Planet fic Listen, I ask you to ignore my huge absence on it. I'm working on chapter five, and it should be upppp in like February. Sometime. Perhaps at the end of February. Just bear with me, guys, I'm trying to get the plot to work.

Also, this first chapter is from Jim's POV, first person, but that's not going to be a regular thing with this fic, just so you know. I came up with the first couple paragraphs in my head exactly as they are, and I worried that if I tried to write them in third person, it'd lose something. So next chapter SHOULD be third person. (It just feels really natural to write Jim from first-person, because I connect really well with him and yeah. So. I hope you like this.) What am I doing starting all these new stories like I don't even have the time for ninety percent of them... Eh, well. I'll try to update chapter 2 SOON this will not end up like Listen I promise.

I guess you could say I wore the jacket when things weren't going too well for me.

It was the only thing Dad had left behind when he took off, and it still carried his scent; at first, I just slept with it, fanning it over myself like a blanket, wrapping it around my own small shoulders, burying my nose in the collar, balling it up beneath my head like a pillow, hiding it beneath the blankets whenever I had to rise; I didn't want Mom to find it. The days right after he left were blurry to me, at best; really, what I remembered most was endless nights lying curled up with the jacket, hugging it to my chest, clutching it tight in small, shaking hands as tears streamed down my cheeks, my own voice, barely above a whisper, carrying across the room. "Why did he leave? Why doesn't he want me? What did I do? Why did he go?"

I never had an answer.

When I started actually wearing the jacket outside the house, I was careful to take it off before entering the inn; the sight of it would probably make Mom cry or something, and…well, she wasn't happy, no, but there were moments in which she almost smiled, and whole days in which she never cried at all.

And this is going to sound crazy, but after a little while, I wore the jacket everywhere. Even around Mom. Because…I couldn't take it off. It was kind of like a security blanket to me, in a way. I needed it. I couldn't take it off. The jacket became my source of strength; though the scent of Dad had long since faded from the aged cloth, I clung to it like a stubborn child, as if I thought I could make him come back to us if I just wore it long enough.

The idea of losing the jacket actually filled me with dread and panic; I needed it, needed to hide in it and lose myself in it, because when it wasn't hanging around my shoulders, when I couldn't use it as a barrier between myself and the world, I felt naked and weak, exposed and vulnerable.

The attachment I felt toward it was actually kind of stupid, looking back on it; but when I entered the ship, I drew it tighter around myself and glared at everyone who looked my way. If I hated them first, if I judged them first, then when they judged me back, it wouldn't bother me so much.

When Silver started teaching me about the ship, like the different knots I could use or how to scrape the barnacles off the side, I thought I'd be wearing it for the rest of the voyage. I slept in it, even, curled up in my hammock with it still wrapped around my body; but after a little while, after sleepless nights spent listening to Silver's wild stories, after silently savoring the attention when he wrapped an arm around me, after hours spent learning how to tie sails and cook meals (Silver's "secret ingredient" was copious amounts of beer), I awoke one morning, and the jacket was in a crumpled heap beside me. I made to rise from the hammock, but I kept glancing back at it, running my fingers over it, wondering if I'd need a barrier today, wondering if I'd need protection.

Finally, a little nervous, I left the room without it. And you know what? I didn't need it. I didn't need the strength or protection the jacket offered me. Because now I had my own, in the form of the cook.

I didn't even touch the jacket for weeks after that. I didn't need it. I might not even need to hide in it; I hadn't screwed up in what felt like forever, hadn't done anything wrong, hadn't gotten into trouble, except when I'd angered that spider…creep.

For the first time in a long time, I didn't have anything to hide from. And it felt so good.

Well. That was over now. The weight of it was comforting around my shoulders. I hadn't missed it a bit, but I was glad I'd brought it. Should have known I'd screw up here and need it again.

The rough surface of the rope scraped against my fingers with every new knot I created, but I had to keep doing them, keep undoing them, then redoing them, because if I'd just done this earlier, when it really counted, Mr. Arrow would still be here, and I wouldn't be useless…

Uneven footsteps pounding on the deck below me had me glancing down for a minute. Silver. He came to stand by the rail, jamming his pipe between his teeth. The silence between us lasted for a few seconds, but to me it felt like an eternity. He couldn't even look at me, probably. Could hardly bear to speak to me. Because I'd actually killed someone this time. All the stuff I'd done back home on Montressor seemed like nothing compared to this. This wasn't like riding into an off-limits area on my solar surfer just to irritate the cops. This had actually hurt someone. Because I'd been stupid and careless and hadn't checked that one lifeline, and I thought I had, but it did no good, I couldn't do anything…

"It weren't your fault, you know." In the silence, his voice seemed ten times louder than it normally would, and I closed my eyes. No, Silver didn't hate me, like the others, but he was trying to make me feel better, but nothing could make this better.

So I just stayed quiet, undoing my last knot and immediately redoing it, staring down at the small piece of rope in my hands, a fragment of his lifeline. If I'd just checked to make sure…

"Why, half the crew would be spinning in that black abyss—

"Look, don't you get it?!" I couldn't stand him talking like that, talking about it and Mr. Arrow and a black abyss and lifelines and the crew. I needed him to shut up. So I threw the rope as far as I could, watching it hurtle away into space. I leaped from my spot on the masts, landing on the rail instead. "I screwed up! I mean, for once, I thought that maybe, I could do something right! I just…" I was spilling more than I meant to, and I had to stop. Had to shut up. If the man before me ever saw what a wreck I really was underneath the surface… "Just…forget it." I leaned against the nearest mast, turning away from him. I couldn't keep looking at him anymore. I could feel the tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, and I reached to brush them away with my jacket sleeve. I should never have taken it off.

There was another silence between us, and in it, I thought maybe Silver really had glimpsed the true mess I hid. Maybe he was going to walk away now. Maybe he was going to leave. It wouldn't be the first time.

"No." And suddenly, his hand was on my shoulder and he was forcing me to look at him. What did he want now, didn't he get it yet, I was a screw-up, I was useless. "You listen to me, James Hawkins."

Looking back, I could never say if it was the tone of his voice or the use of my real name that rooted me to the spot, all my anger and strength deserting me again. Even the jacket offered me no comfort.

He slung an arm around me, jabbing his cyborg finger into my chest as he spoke. "Ya got the makings of greatness in ya!"

What? I'd been stupid, I'd failed to check the lifelines, I was responsible for the loss of the first mate…there was nothing great in me. Nothing.

"But you gotta take the helm and chart your own course!" Silver did a hand motion, like he was steering a ship, and the gesture was so him that it almost hurt to watch. "Stick to it, no matter the squalls! And when the time comes, you get the chance to really test the cut of your sails, and show what you're made of…"

I waited, breathless for a minute, as he stood with arms outstretched, like he could see the future me even now, and ached to be a part of that time. My throat constricted as I waited for him to finish.

"…well…I hope I'm there…" he still wasn't looking at me; just gazed up at the starry sky over our heads, reaching out like he hoped to grasp some sort of shine, like he planned to grab a star itself out of the night skies. He stood like he was in awe, and the tears pushed against my eyes again. No one should ever be in awe of me. "…catching some of the light coming off you that day."

That did it.

I couldn't keep the tears back anymore; they welled up, blurring my vision, streaking down my cheeks, and I fell against Silver, leaning my forehead on his chest, feeling my legs beginning to fail, the last of my strength deserting me. I hadn't cried for so long that now sobs burst out of me, real and raw and unstoppable, and for the first time since I'd realized I loved him, I wasn't worried he was going to leave me, too. I just kept standing there, tears pouring down my face, and I didn't try to stop them or wipe them away, because that would be pointless. He was rigid and unmoving as I cried into him, and it occurred to me in a kind of vague, distant way that I was probably making him uncomfortable, or else he wanted me to stop bawling all over him like a little kid, but even as I moved to pull away, wipe the tears and apologize, he suddenly wrapped his arms around me, and he pulled me closer, hugging me.

His warm embrace, his cheek resting on my hair, and his quiet voice, whispering to me, "Jimbo, it's alright…it's alright…"

It broke me again. I responded to his hug, and I clung to him, hands fisting, clenching the white shirt in my fingers. All that mattered in that moment was that he never, ever let me go. I could feel the tears leaving my eyes, dropping onto his shirt, but I didn't want to move or anything that might risk us having to pull apart.

We did, though. We did break the hug after a minute. Well, he broke it, placing his hands on my shoulders and holding me at arm's length. When he smiled at me, it looked sort of watery. "W-well…I…uh…Jimbo…" he laughed, a little nervously, and quickly removed his hands, straightening his hat. "I best be getting about my watch…and you best be getting some shut-eye." He put a gentle hand on my back, guiding me toward the steps.

At the top of the staircase, I turned to look at him. I couldn't stop looking at him. I was suddenly afraid that if I did, he'd disappear, and these past ten minutes would never have happened, and I'd still be sitting there, undoing and redoing knots. For the first time all night, I smiled when his gaze met mine, his words glowing within me like stars. "You got the makings of greatness in ya…"

But I would rather have had the words in my heart than all the stars in the world in my hands.

Somehow, I didn't think I'd need the jacket for awhile.