**My first alternative universe Classic Who fic. Takes place in April 1966, the Second Doctor "adopts" Jamie, an impoverished teenager who is caring for his father.**
"Williams, table for two! Collins, table for one!"
Two stood alone by a window, in a packed and noisy restaurant.
"Hello, sir!" Two pointed at himself.
"Yes! We have a table by the bar. A waiter will be here shortly!"
"Good afternoon, sir! What would you like tonight?"
"I'll take #3 and just a glass of water, please."
"Number 3 for table 12! McCrimmon pay attention to the orders!" The waiter barked.
Two looked over at the boy called McCrimmon, who stood silently with a sad demeanour.
He quickly appeared at Two's table. "3 for 12..." He croaked softly. Two looked closer at his server, who didn't look much older than 15.
"Just a question, young man. How old are you by chance?"
"16 in September. By the way, my name is actually Jamie."
"Shouldn't you be in school?"
"I want to, but we're poor and can't afford the costs. I've never gone to school. I can barely read and write."
"Who else do you live with?"
"It's just me and my father. My mother is dead and all my brothers left home. All the service that my father gave during the war, and this is our fate. He's been sick for 9 months now and had to quit working. All we get from the government is money for his medications, that I'm afraid are no longer effective. I work two jobs just to keep our home. All the money I make goes to our rent, some food, and payments. All of the clothes and holiday gifts that I get are from charities. I have a feeling that he's on his way out as well. When I'm not working I'm spending my time taking care of him."
Jamie didn't go into revealing his occasional thoughts of letting his father go. He didn't want to spend half of his life in prison, but he didn't wish for his dad to continue suffering. His brothers all moved far away, and never came by to help. He was disappointed in them.
Two gave him a lift that night. He listened all night as Jamie bickered with his father and broke down in tears over his worries.
"Jamie, can you try to find a better job?"
"If I had some education, I could! Don't you remember that I gave up that offer after you got sick, so that you can live? I wish I could go beyond serving food and getting ordered around by the factory owner! I smuggle leftovers to make up for the fact that we only have a minuscule cooker, that I can't buy better food, that I have to occasionally steal from the supermarkets, and to have enough money to keep ourselves under a roof! I gave up my bed and now I sleep on the floor so that you won't be uncomfortable. Those wages are the only thing keeping us from going on food stamps!"
"Calm down, Jamie!"
He began to cry. "Calm down? Pretty easy for you to say! I worry every week! I worry about you when I'm working, if you're okay at home because I can't check on you. Your medication isn't working like it used to. I wish my brothers would stop by or even help. They're your own children and they can't think to help their own flesh and blood, after all the love and care you put into raising us. I'm barely over 14, I can't do all of this myself. Like all the McCrimmon males before me, I'm fighting in a war. They fought the opposing sides, and I'm fighting the war of poverty. Look at you, dad. You were so talented, hard working, lively, and it's all been taken away from you. I hate seeing you like this, bedridden and dependent..."
"I'm sorry, Jamie..." Donald tried to comfort his son.
"I love you dad, I really do..."
Two continued to see Jamie during the week, talking to him and driving him home. One night, things would be different.
"Thanks for all the rides home, it saves me walking home in the dark."
They pulled up to the worn out triplex. Jamie looked out the window, and turned towards Two. "Something is out of the ordinary." Two followed him out of the car.
Jamie knocked on the door. "Dad? Dad, are you there?" No response. "Dad, are you okay?" Jamie unlocked the door and turned on the light."
His father wasn't inside. "No, no, no! This isn't good..." The bed covers had been pulled back. "Oh my god..."
"Are these his medications?" Two looked around their bathroom.
"YES!" Jamie paced the front room. Donald's wheelchair and crutches were missing. "He can't get very far, especially in the rain."
The two drove around for two hours, but never found Donald. Two pulled up Jamie's home.
"If you want, you can always come and live with me. I'll let you think about it."
Jamie got out and went back to his house for the last time. He looked around and made his decision. He gathered a suitcase and packed it with his few possessions and some heirlooms. A little radio from the previous Christmas, clothes, flash cards, the kilt and dirk that were passed down from Culloden, and a photo album of family pictures.
He walked back to the car. "I'm ready."
********
March 1999
Every year, Jamie wondered where his father had gone. He'd posted on BBS boards about Donald, asking for information. He'd regretted never filing a report, fearing that the police would accuse him of murder given their situation.
He roamed Britain's Lost, Unknown, and Unclaimed for his father. He came across a case numbered 466-005 and clicked to read.
A middle aged man who had died on the same day that Jamie last saw his father, who wore similar clothes, who required a wheelchair and crutches, and took the same medication. Now he wanted to know the circumstances.
The decadent collapsed in a hospital waiting room, an hour after arrival. Cause of death was aggravated pneumonia. A note was found, addressed to the staff. He wrote that he lived in poverty and was unemployed due to his existing illnesses. He is thought to have been moderately illiterate, as he wrote most his words phonetically.
Decadent possibly has a son named Jamie and several other sons. The names of the other children were not mentioned. Decadent briefly mentioned that his son was caring for him, and had hospitalized himself to give the son less responsibility.
Despite several leads, police have not been successful in identifying him.
Jamie clicked on the photo icon, an exclamation mark with a white background.
It was Donald McCrimmon. Jamie's heart sank, and tears fell down his cheeks. In the back of his mind, Jamie had an inkling that his father was dead, but finding out was still heartbreaking. He didn't even know his father had contracted pneumonia and kept it a secret.
As Jamie re-read the circumstances, he smiled faintly. His father died trying to get help, to make their lives better. His love and respect for his father grew.
He picked up a photo of his father. "I love you, dad..."
baratheonpilled
2087
turnnoffyourmind
pixelskylines
romaincrisis
blakekathryn
