Chapter Text
Jim wasn't stupid but he sure acted like he was. He knew he'd get in trouble on Montressor for trespassing, knew not to talk back during shark week at the academy, knew pulling a prank on a senior officer wasn't a good idea, and knew being kicked from the academy six months from graduation was all his fault. He knew finding work wouldn't be hard, being an academy drop out was common enough, knew his mom would scowl every time he video called her, knew he was being underpaid, and knew what ships and crews were trouble.
What Jim didn’t know was where he was at.
The first thing he did was try to recall his latest memory, usually moments like these were preceded with copious amounts of alcohol, or at least something more than the unsettling blackness his brain offered him. Well, if he couldn't recall the then he might as well figure out the now. While his memories were muddled his senses were not.
The feel of the fabric against his bare body was rough, cheap, not that he'd ever felt luxury. At least that was familiar, a room above a dive bar maybe. When Jim opened his eyes, he expected the pillar of light that cut between the thin curtain and the wall to trigger a headache, instead he sneezed. No headache, no hangover, no memories, and the rest of the rundown room matched his first assumption. The sneeze, however, had unsettled the scent on the blanket, on Jim, on the air itself.
How he hadn’t noticed the thick, although nearly faded, scent of heat before everything else took a backseat to the mental berating Jim started to give himself. He used synthetic hormones, fake beta cologne, and suppressants like every other beta who woke up one day and had their bodies tell them they were wrong. An omega. Unlike what was depicted in popular media, omegas weren’t slaves to their biology. They weren’t weaker, they couldn’t be controlled by a powerful alpha’s voice, they handled stress about as well as anyone else, and they were fully aware and consenting during a heat.
Unless you abused your suppressants.
Jim knew the side effects of using suppressants for so long, at this point for nearly a decade, with a level of discipline that showed up nowhere else in his life, he planned the once-a-year required heat. In fact, he should be more shocked that an incident like this hadn’t happened sooner, not the fact it happened at all. No one is perfect and he was bound to slip up eventually, although he had expected the slip up to be with a casual fuck gone too far.
There were four people in the Ethereum who knew Jim was an omega. Himself, his mother, Amelia, and… Silver. Silver, damn that man, had seen through the fakery of it all like he had seen through everything else. Jim was grateful the old cook had only brought it up once, sorta. A small part of him wished they could have been more but with how things had ended… It was probably for the best he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the man since.
There had been a time or two at crowded ports where Jim swore a tricorn looked a little too familiar, but he never tried to chase one down. If Silver wanted to be in contact, he had no doubt the man would have made it by now. Jim had inquired a few times at some of the seedier bars, how many cyborg ursids could there be, and quickly learned a man of Silver’s skills knew who to pay off and who to threaten. No doubt word had reached him by now that Jim had tried to look, and the continued lack of contact spoke volumes.
Melodramatic thoughts aside, Jim had a lot he needed to figure out and, potentially, in a very small amount of time. He had no idea how long the room had been rented out for and the last thing he wanted was to be shoved out the door naked and un-showered. The thought of being outside without his fake scent made his skin crawl. Shit, wait, did his travel bag make it into the room? Jim shot up from the bed and learned two things very quickly. His bag had made it and had been left at the end of the bed and his shoulder felt like it’d been set on fire.
Jim felt his adrenaline spike as he turned on the toes of his feet with impressive speed towards the open bathroom. Breathing was all Jim allowed himself to do as he stared himself down in the dirty mirror, his hands white knuckling around the rim of the metal sink. There, branded in red, were the two semi-circles of a bond mark. Dried blood had smeared and caked nearly a third of his upper body.
The urge to vomit would have won over Jim’s self-control if he’d had anything to eat in the last three days. That’s how much time he was missing, three fucking days, and at some point, someone had taken advantage of his black out. Someone who must have realized they’d fucked up because as Jim tested the thin bond, he could feel they had run and fast. It was a weird sensation. Jim knew the alpha was far, not on planet, but fuck if he could put a finger on how he could tell. Again, the urge to vomit welled up but this time followed with an ugly relief.
What happened was illegal and Jim would have the undeniable proof on his shoulder of the crime, but the last thing he wanted was to drag the issue in front of anyone else. For his mother to find out, for other people to learn he was an omega. The alpha wouldn’t have known that and because of that they’d bolted. With enough distance and time, the bond would break, the mark on Jim’s neck would fade, and he’d only be left with the drive to do better next time and the knowledge that there were now five people who knew Jim Hawkins was an omega.
-
Silver didn't do feelings, he barely did friendships either but then he had been saddled with a mouthy beta on a long trip. The young man postured like an alpha, got in fights like an alpha, had the attitude of an alpha, hell maybe he was a late bloomer and would return home an alpha. Even if his suspicion was wrong, Jim certainly wasn't the first beta with an attitude Silver had met, it seemed more common than not in his line of work.
After a particularly rough day at the tail end of a rough week Silver had walked in on a sight he hadn’t ever expected to see. The young, snarling beta was dead asleep draped across a large pot. Without the scowl and with his body at rest Jim looked small, delicate, and in a rare moment of weakness Silver had covered the younger man with his coat. He blamed it on the sight triggering his alpha urge to protect. The next morning, as he picked his folded coat off the table, Silver found himself tripped up a second time.
He knew Jim’s scent would rub off on the coat, nothing a day of Silver wearing it couldn’t fix, but it was a particular detail in the scent left behind that made him reevaluate everything he knew about the boy. Being wrong about a hunch had never been so entertaining. The beta with an attitude that postured hard enough to trick Silver was an omega with an attitude.
An omega passing as a beta wasn’t new, hardly anything worth noting, but every fake beta he’d run into had all done their best to go unnoticed. If you’re already breaking a rule, why draw attention to yourself? Why invite scrutiny where none was needed? The same went for Silver’s line of work. He already looked dangerous, which was nice when he needed it, but for jobs like this one? Not so much. Then in walked Jim with the usual morning snarl and nothing brought a smile to Silver’s face as quickly as that sound. The next few months would be entertaining indeed.
The second time Silver caught Jim’s omega scent had been on the decaying deck of Flint’s ship in the middle of what might as well have been hell. Jim hadn’t had access to whatever he was taking or using for days, and the heat of the situation had both of them drenched in sweat. It was exquisite torture. The view of Jim stood tall with his shoulders squared, a sword in hand, the look on his face daring Silver to make a move and the intoxicating scent of an omega nearing a heat. Suppressants, then, now worn off.
Silver had felt the small flickers of something in the last few weeks, but he had refused to put a name to any of them. That would involve admitting he felt something for the barely legal omega and wasn’t that a dangerous path to go down. Those small flickers had roared into something brighter in time for him to watch as the ship was torn apart and Jim thrown to his death, almost.
Between his revelation and The Legacy bursting through the portal with the explosion on their heels, Silver hadn’t dared breathe. It wasn’t until Jim had caught him, longboat half untied, that Silver acknowledged he had been breathing at all because the scent of the younger man had him gasping. It was obvious Silver was about to make a break for it and instead of anger or relief or joy Jim smelled like abandonment.
Jim had gone through multiple scuffs with Scroop, had fought Silver tooth and nail for months, had stood strong during the supernova, refused to bend the knee on Flint’s ship, then rode hell fire to save all of them, yet it was Silver leaving that broke his resolve. The hug, the whispered I’ll miss you, the pure emotion of the moment almost broke Silver in return. He walked away that time, but he wasn’t so sure if he could walk away a second time.
Those events had been a little over five years ago and to anyone who paid attention Silver had kept low and out of trouble. No more large heists, no grand plans, no convoluted machinations with a new crew. If anyone looked closer, they would realize it’s because Silver had a new, unhealthy, hobby. Trailing Jim wasn’t a plan Silver had had, it wasn’t one he thought he’d need as he was convinced the omega would succeed in the Navy. Idiots, both of them. Silver for thinking Jim wouldn’t get in trouble and Jim for getting in trouble.
He’d only meant to check in on Jim the first time, quietly of course, to make sure he would be alright. As expected, the lad had caught onto the way of things within a week and had started to take on jobs. Silver would make note of the routes and if his own business happened to cross Jim’s sometimes… It had been luck that landed Silver on the same shore as Jim when he entered a heat house. From then on Silver made sure their paths crossed more often.
Jim was smart, there were heat houses that offered reduced if not free rooms for those willing to be seen or to be taken, he never went to those. He’d always pick a heat house that didn’t offer those services and would pick the step above cheapest. Silver wasn’t sure how he’d react if Jim ever felt the need to expose himself for a room and the thought both pleased and angered him. He’d get to see Jim but so would any other alpha who paid for the hourly viewing room.
He wouldn’t stalk Jim forever, at some point something would have to give and Silver promised himself he’d leave once Jim found himself a long term partner. Despite whatever Jim thought, Silver knew he’d find a bond mate. He knew it because there was no way Silver was the only person in the Ethereum who saw Jim for who he was and loved him. One day Jim would be claimed and then Silver will leave.
That’s exactly what happened.
Silver ran like a coward because if there was one thing, he didn’t do it was feelings and now he had way too many of them. Currently, Silver found himself on a cargo ship with a heading as far from the last port as possible. He’d get off on this ship’s final destination then he’d hop on another ship, then another, then go as far out as he needed. Until he could no longer feel the tug of the bond towards his omega, towards Jim. It felt like he was being rubbed the wrong way, like a wire in his arm had been pinched, but no amount of discomfort would get Silver to stop.
Like every year before it, he had watched Jim go into a heat house and then watched in horror the next day as Jim, and a handful of others, were kicked out. Usually, the lad was better at picking the house, but the shady place had reached max capacity and instead of turning away more patrons they had cleared out rooms. Unlike the other omegas who still knew their heads from their asses, Jim acted nearly drunk as he continued to trip over his bag and tug at his clothes.
The plan had been simple, grab Jim, grab a hotel room, then post guard until the much too strong heat broke. Silver had grabbed Jim, had grabbed a hotel room, and had apparently put too much confidence in Jim’s state because the second Silver turned to leave, Jim had stopped him. By name.
Silver had looked into Jim’s situation in detail after he’d first witnessed Jim head into a heat house. Omegas who over-suppressed stopped long enough for a heat a year. It was that or death, no doubt the one reason to get Jim to even humor the idea. These heats were everything the media dreamed of. Powerful, mind altering, delicious. Yet the same omega who didn’t have the facilities to count to ten had recognized Silver.
Silver had both of them stripped in minutes. Jim wasn’t the first omega in heat he had interacted with, just the first lost in the deep haze, and he’d always prided himself for not giving into the sweet talk. Even the average omega would occasionally let slip a beg or two to be marked. Yet two days later he woke up to the smell of blood and the taste of it on his lips. He had marked Jim, had claimed him in the heat of the moment anyway.
Silver was a selfish bastard, but this was one step too far. Maybe if he hadn’t been a coward and had approached Jim earlier. Maybe if Jim hadn’t begged for him by name. Maybe if he’d just buckled down and not listened. Maybe if emotions weren’t involved because marking Jim wasn’t the real issue, in fact a part of Silver was ecstatic. The more rational part was terrified of the fallout, of Jim’s inevitable anger which would lead to hate and Silver couldn’t handle that. If he stuck around, he’d lose Jim and he wasn’t strong enough for that.
So Silver did what he did best and ran.
-
Jim had gotten back to work easily enough, had found a handful of shirts with high collars easily enough, and integrated back into the labor force as if nothing had happened three months ago. And maybe in another three months the bite mark would fade, and Jim could move on for real. He had since learned the heat house he had chosen wasn’t as reputable as he thought and had kicked a handful of their patrons out when they had hit capacity. Jim being one of them had been poor luck. He had also learned the bond wasn’t from another human.
A large part of Jim didn’t want to know who the alpha was. Once the bond broke there would be no way for him to know who it was and in turn it was doubtful they would ever find him again. A sort of ignorance is bliss situation where he got to keep some level of anonymity. An equally large part felt like he’d been handed a puzzle and damn if he didn’t have some sort of soft spot for those. Be it the circuits on a solar surfer, a ship engine, or the damn map that started it all.
It didn’t help that his own mind had slowly dredged up memories from those three days. A smell here or an unexpected noise there would drag up a blurred snapshot of his last heat and he found himself craving more clues. His horror and shame twisted into something Jim knew how to handle, determination.
The biggest part of the puzzle clicked at the eight month mark. Despite the alpha’s efforts to break the bond it never snapped. If anything, it had become stronger, just strong enough Jim could feel the echo of the mystery person’s emotions flung across lightyears of space. The only reason the distance wouldn't break a fresh bond is if the two people had already built up a rapport. Whoever bonded Jim was someone he knew.
Jim had done bonding research whenever he could at port and even dared to ask his mom once. He winced when she got excited, he couldn't tell her what had happened, it'd break her heart. But now, at eight months, the mystery alpha had stopped running, probably realizing the same thing Jim had. At first, he feared the person would seek him out to talk, or worse, but they never did. So, he got busy trying to narrow down who the person might be.
Ever since the alpha stopped running, their vague travel path held the same cadence as Jim’s own, which implied they were in the same business, or close enough. A freelancer who moved from job to job, galaxy to galaxy, but they were always careful to keep a distance between the two of them. It made sense, the only people Jim might have formed a potential bond with would have been others from the academy. That was the last time he had tried to build any sort of connection with anyone.
By the nine month mark Jim had a list of names, people he knew were alphas and a species with bites larger than a human’s. From there he had removed those who had since found bondmates then slowly worked from there. It couldn't have been Jameson, he was five galaxies over during Jim's heat. Highwater got herself killed during a stunt. Z'raha's flight patterns were too close to Jim’s.
At the one year mark Jim had run out of names and with it his panic had reared back up. He had a feeling he knew who it was, but it was impossible, it couldn't be… but Jim had eliminated all other options. Then there was the issue of the dreams he had, those moments right before sleep claimed him where he'd see glimpses of the Ethereum or of other ships or of a crew he'd never seen. These things didn't bother him, it made sense, but then his brain would catch a small detail, soft trails of smoke or a deep rumble or a stew pot.
These small details used to escape Jim, evaporated in the morning sun, until a very specific smell brought them all back in a rush that felt like the first time, he had freefallen on his solar sail. Pipe smoke, a very specific scent he had smelled only once before and that's when Jim knew for certain who the alpha was.
Jim doesn't remember how he ended up laying on the deck, only the manic laughter that escaped him. All this time, all these years wondering and now this. Panic, relief, anger, happiness, it was all too much, and Jim didn't know how to feel. A week after his heat, a week after he thought it over, Jim turned his determination towards hunting the man. He had questions he needed answers to, as much as he feared the response. Why did he run? Why was he even there? Why did he never reach out afterwards?
Silver better be prepared because Jim was coming for him.
-
It took Silver longer than he wanted to admit to realize Jim had started to draw closer on purpose. He had felt the lad bounce around on jobs much like Silver had done himself and now the erratic pattern of the strained bond was a straight line. Jim wasn’t just headed in Silver’s general direction; he was hunting for him. Silver could glean as much from the bond, the determination that flowed through during waking hours, and he realized he was in trouble.
Jim was a man on a mission and Silver knew he could run but for how long? He tried, Silver started to get away but every time he did Jim would catch on and follow. Eventually Silver wasn’t even sure why he was running. Was he afraid Jim would kill him? No, that’d be a mercy. What Silver was afraid of was the look on Jim’s face once he realized who it was. The mangy, older pirate who nearly got them all killed.
Six months into being hunted Silver gave up, Jim was only a week away and grew closer by the minute, so he planned. Silver rented out an old, single story home on a rural part of a rural planet well out of the way of most trade. It was near a small town he could get most of his needs from and place special orders for what he couldn’t. He stocked up and decided to enjoy the last week of his life because honestly that’s what this was. Jim would either come in guns blazing or he’d deny Silver and he was certain he wouldn’t survive either outcome.
A week became days became hours then Silver could tell Jim had set foot on the planet. The bond had flared up, it nearly sang. Then hours became minutes then Silver heard footsteps, heard as Jim stood breathing heavy outside his door. With a soft sigh Silver set down the book he had been reading and waited in his chair for Jim to step through that door.