In a Sea of Stars
A/N: The idea for this all started when I made a Jim/Korso music video. I love them together. Waaaay too much. Also, I plan on having more crossover/pairings if this story continues! Please let me know if I should continue? I can't be the only Non/Disney slash fan out there…
Also, big shout out to czarownicykot [LOOK HER UP ON YOUTUBE, YO]. Her crossover-fanfic contest was what pushed me to publish this.
Warnings: This is slash, and there are adult situations and adult language. Please do not read if you feel offended by any of this! D:
Jim was twelve when his father finally left, thirteen when he started solar surfing, and fourteen when two robotic cops managed to arrest him for the first (but not the last) time. Life was hard, but that was life. His mother said she needed his help, and so Jim stayed. He wouldn't walk out on her as long as she was living.
He loved his mother, even if he rolled his eyes and never came home on time.
He was fifteen when pirates raided their inn, but he felt fifty when he was torn from his mother's cold body. Then, nothing, Jim felt nothing as he watched blood seep from the dark wound in her chest.
When he woke up chained in a holding cell, Jim decided age didn't matter, nothing mattered but survival.
And so Jim survived.
He lied about his mother, claiming she had just an annoying, naïve woman who took him in, and that he would have ended up robbing her if Silver hadn't interrupted his plans. Eventually he created a whole new persona, a different Jim, a Jim that criminals saw as one of their own despite being a captive.
Soon he became friends with the cyborg captain John Silver, eventually just 'Silver', and worked endlessly in the ship's galley. Jim was the only human on board and was treated well for a prisoner.
Jim cooked his mother's recipes, he cleaned thoroughly, and he listened to stories and even told a few about the 'strange, annoying human woman 'Sarah' in the inn' and his 'highly-illegal solar surfing crime sprees'. His stories always made the alien crewmates laugh. Jim occasionally cracked a smile too, but not often because it made him sick.
At nights, when most of the crew was asleep, Silver would let Jim mop the upper-deck of the ship. Despite being in the deep, empty trenches of space, there were still stars. Jim liked the stars, but wasn't sure why. Sometimes he paused from mopping and glanced up at a large ceiling window, and, for a moment, Jim would feel ok.
But feeling 'ok' wasn't quite the same as surviving. If Jim felt ok too often, he'd probably end up getting killed. So, Jim continued with his numerous chores and tried not to piss any crewmates off. Eventually he understood his most important skill was surviving.
Even when Silver's ship was attacked and looted, even when Jim saw Silver's neck slashed and crewmates thrown out the loading dock, Jim survived.
As the invading crew swept through the ship, Jim hid himself in an empty barrel. All the escape pods had either been used or destroyed, and Silver and his crew were dead, so he was sort of fucked. The other pirates would find him eventually, but there was still a chance that they might overlook a barrel in the back of the kitchen.
Either way, Jim knew he would survive.
Well, he hoped he would.
So when a shadowed lanky creature knocked the barrel over and struck him in the face, Jim let his body go limp and didn't make a sound. He was damn good at playing dead.
A boney alien hand hoisted him up, and something—a gun barrel—was pressed against his temple.
And like that, Jim sprung back to life, chest heaving.
"What do we have here?" the alien whispered dangerously close to Jim's face. Jim said nothing in response and let himself be pushed back until he hit the edge of a counter. Everything was dark, save the light the alien was shinning in his face. Jim caught a glimpse of the alien's nose. It had a horn on it, and his face was elongated, like a snout.
"I must admit I admire your bravery," sneered the alien, sending a shiver of disgust down Jim's spine. He looked away, forcing his legs to support his upper-body weight.
A familiar hand grabbed his jaw and forced him to look straight ahead. Jim couldn't see past the light, and didn't try to. He was too concerned with what was going to happen next.
"Come on, move it," the alien hissed and turned him from the counter, the gun now pressing to the middle of Jim's back.
And Jim knew right off the bat that this alien guy wanted to kill him, but his neck remained unsnapped. Though, as the alien bound his wrists behind him with heavy cuffs, Jim was having mixed feelings about his future.
He was pushed and prodded like cattle as they made their way out of the lower kitchen quarters, stumbling twice due to the lack of light, and struck in the back of the head three times for his misfortunate footing. Jim's head was buzzing by the time they reached the top of the stairs. He felt nauseas, the combination of fear and physical harm pushing his limits.
But, Jim would survive.
"Preed? The fuck's going on? You get Akima's message? We're off this shithole in ten," a young male voice called. Well, he sounded young, but Jim knew to save his voice-to-face assumptions for later. He forced himself not to remember how weird Silver's voice was, or that he had grown accustomed to the man's specific laughter.
It was dark on the main deck, the power had been cut. Everything smelled and felt different, and the sounds were different too. The invading crew had flashlights though, and the brief puddles of light showed splatters of blood and scratch mark and lost teeth.
Jim winced and looked away, mentally preparing himself for a beating or stab wound. He could only see the lights and various glowing machinery the crew were carrying, like holographic wrist communicators or the soft green glow from night-vision goggles. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, eyes widening as all lights locked on him.
But instead of gunfire, the hidden crew erupted in chatter.
"He's just a kid," a brash female voice cut through the others', annoyed and somehow disappointed.
"Well I didn't exactly bring him up here to be auctioned off," Preed shot back.
"So you are gonna kill him? Well, the loading dock's been jammed, and our guns are low on ammo right now. Why not just tie him up and leave him here? Ship's gonna be gone in a few minutes anyway," said the female again, her voice making Jim wince. The lights were still dancing to and fro in front of him.
"We better ask Korso though. You know how is about humans." She sounded like she could kill Jim with her bare hands. Most definitely not a human, Jim decided, but he couldn't be sure.
Preed sighed, frustrated, and prodded the gun in Jim's back. He seemed almost bored.
"Yes, I know how he is about humans."
Jim swallowed and kept his eyes averted from the lights that were being shined on his face. It was becoming extremely annoying, but he was in no position to complain.
"You know I could use some fucking help," called the young man from beyond his crew, and Jim spotted a distant light bouncing around as he struggled to move a metallic crate. "No rush guys, not like this ship's gonna blow up or anything."
"Cale just shut the hell up and move that damn crate!" barked the female, and as Cale began to retort another presence arrived on deck.
"Enough," and Jim just knew this was the guy in charge, his tone and sternness made that obvious.
Jim stood still, trying to pin the voice, ready to beg for his life. Everyone had fallen silent, save for the male named Cale who was still struggling with that crate.
"Yup, okay, thanks guys," Cale muttered in the dark, not at all bothered by Jim or his predicament.
Suddenly, there were a set of heavy footsteps that stopped directly to Jim's right. A light belonging to the footsteps' owner shined on Jim's face, and Jim once more looked away.
No one said anything; it was as if time stopped, then sped back up.
"What do you want me to do with this one?" questioned Preed from behind Jim—and good God, Jim was ready to break away and blast himself into space. He really didn't want to die, not yet, not like this. No, not yet—
"Korso?" Preed asked, exhaling foul breath onto Jim's back.
Abruptly the light from 'Korso' was hovering on Jim, but then moved to where the crate was being moved. Jim saw the brief outline of a young man's neck and shoulders, realizing that this 'Cale' was indeed human. If Jim wasn't about to die he might have been excited.
"Get him back to the Valkyrie, and then help Cale with whatever he can't move," said Korso, and Jim didn't believe he had heard him correctly.
"Of course we're keeping him," Preed replied, shuffling behind Jim. "I suppose this means we need to get another room ready? Honestly Korso, how many humans will you take in?"
Jim suddenly felt a heavy object hit him on the back of the head, and then he was falling. His last thoughts were of the stars.