Chapter 8

James rolled over and stared at the clock. Five ten, exactly three minutes from the last time he looked at it. There was no point in trying to get anymore sleep. Dragging on a ratty blue dressing gown, he made his way to the kitchen in the dark. The past week had been hell. After Mickey slammed Rose's door shut in his face, he'd gone home and dumped the contents of the packet on his living room floor. He didn't need to read through it to know what it said – he'd memorized it years ago – been taunted with it through boarding school and even by some at University.

Littered amongst the clippings were pictures of his mother and father at awards galas, his father at lecterns, smiling, contrasting with photos of a sullen little boy with wild hair and crooked bow ties and pinching shoes. The articles told of a successful husband and wife team – he lectured and she fundraised – with an …unusual son. James preferred the company of books when he was younger, hating how those his age had no desire to take something apart with care to see how it worked or could be improved on, but were more interested in destroying it.

When the fire happened, James had been found in the barn, curled around his favorite filly, nearly catatonic. He wouldn't – couldn't – answer any questions and no one could understand at the time why he had burns on his chest and hands. A social worker, kind and patient, along with the fire investigator, finally figured out that the burns came from him trying to put out the fire with the horses water, he'd been trying to get into the back door of the house where the flames were the hottest.

The damage had been done by that point. Rumors swirled around the village that the fire was started by that "mad little boy" and how they knew "one day something like this would happen, no one in that family was quite right." Articles published as "opinions" littered the papers, all claiming to quote inside sources at the hospital, that James was mentally troubled, he harbored a grudge against his parents, or that his tinkering went wrong and he tried to hide it and the fire got out of hand. The police did little to stem the gossip, too busy trying to piece together their own investigation and handle James's paternal grandparents to worry about one little boy.

His father's penchant for chemistry and basement laboratory were ultimately blamed- though James knew that his father rarely left anything unsecured. When his own grandparents sent him away peoples fears were confirmed – James McCrimmon was nothing but trouble best left to someone else.

And now Rose knew about the past he thought he'd left behind when he'd decided to take Wilf up on this position. He'd not wanted to, not with the police hanging around again a whole new scandal brewing around the McCrimmon name, but when the old doctor had come to Scotland himself, sat down with James and said he just wouldn't retire, did he consider really leaving. Staying had been more of a finger to all the gossips anyway, not a real love for the area.

He'd had every intention of telling Rose about his parents, about his childhood, maybe even taking a weekend trip to a nearby area in Scotland to show her the land, but not for a time. The relationship was too new and they both were damaged.

Tossing the remnants of his now cold tea in the sink, James went to dress. Rose was such a mystery to him. Fiercely protective but so unsure of her own self worth. He'd been looking forward to peeling back the layers and getting acquainted with the woman beneath but he doubted now that he'd get a chance.

Five hours later found Rose Tyler rummaging under her pillow for her mobile. Frowning, she read the number for Nightingale Hospital on the display.

"God, was it the Doctor? Was he calling from work now since she wasn't answering his calls or texts? What if it was her Mum?"

"Get a grip on yerself, Rose." Sighing, she answered.

"Rose! What took you so long?"

"Mum? Waz wrong? Do you need me? What 'appened?" Rose tumbled out of her nest of pink and purple blankets, dropping onto the floor in a heap and nearly jarring loose the phone in the process.

"Calm down, luv, nothin's the matter. But I do need you ta come down here. I 'ave a bit of a surprise for ya."

Smiling at the excitement in her Mum' voice, Rose agreed.

"I'll be there in about an hour, Mum. But how'd ya know I was here? I'd normally be workin'." Pulling jeans and a tee off the floor, Rose headed for the loo.

"I may be locked up in here but I'm still yer Mum and it's best you remember that, missy. You'd be surprised at what I know. Now get here quick as you can. And remember, it's my surprise."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Still a bit disoriented and with her third mug of hot tea in to-go cup, Rose pushed through the revolving doors of the hospital and came to a stop. There in the foyer, dressed in a powder blue track suit and trainers, was her Mum. Jackie was laughing with Dr. Mott and chatting up a young couple with a little boy, his bright ginger hair standing on end, her Mum grasping his hand and waving it back and forth.

"Mum?"

"And there's my Rose now! Couldn't tell to look at 'er now, but when she was Rupert 'ere's age, she 'ad 'air borderin' on ginger. Strawberry blond, they called it. Then it just turned dark."

Dr. Mott gave her an indulgent smile. "Rose, Rory here is going to be one of our new nurse's. His wife Amelia is a writer."

"Nice to meet ya." She shook hands with the ginger woman who looked just a few years older than her and the man and then the couple moved on. "Mum? Waz goin' on?"

"This is part a that surprise I told ya about!" Jackie showed her a bus pass and a day pass from the hospital.

Dr. Mott gripped Rose's shoulder. "Now young lady this is all arranged and I don't want to here that you gave anyone – including Mrs. Tyler – any trouble. Go, relax, listen to your mother, and come back and see me if you need to."

"But Dr. Mott….wait!" He waved as he disappeared through the automatic doors leading to the ward. Rose raised a brow to her Mum. "Alright you, what do you have planned?"

Jackie grabbed her daughter's hand and pulled her through the exit. "You heard the doctor (Rose's heart twisted a bit at that) no lip."

James filed away the last chart with a sigh. His office was spotless, even his diplomas and certificates were on the walls. He'd spend the better part of the last hour putting everything away, he'd even dusted – which yielded some interesting results from under his desk and confirmed his suspicions that since he'd implemented his new homemade security system that the cleaning crew had been skipping his office.

"Well McCrimmon, finally becoming serious about your job, I see? Or is something bothering you? Personal problems maybe?"

"Don't you have somewhere to be, Saxon?"

Harry leaned against the doorframe, straightened, frowned, and then rubbed his fingertips over it before shuddering. "No, I really don't. So tell me what's on your mind. I am, after all, a master of the mind."

James snorted. "Master of the mind? Who is more wronged the deceiver or his flock? Are you playing at being a mentalist now, Saxon? I never claimed to be perfect, in fact, I tell my patients that because there is nothing worse than having someone who claims to be perfect telling you how imperfect you are."

"And that's where you and I differ in our methodology. I am perfection. I represent perfection. These poor souls need to look upon that and strive for it or else how are they to get well? What are they here for but to be what society needs them to be?"

James plopped behind his desk. "Society doesn't need perfection, Harry. That's the last thing this world needs is mindless automatons running around doing as our leaders say."

Harry slapped the doorframe. "And why not? We put those leaders in charge for a reason. A majority voted for them, controlled by those who carefully manipulated the media in their favor. Power, McCrimmon. That is the backbone of society. And it should be molded, nurtured by those with the knowledge to do so."

"Like you?"

"Yes. You're weak, McCrimmon. You lack the spine to dive in and get what you want. You were weak when it came to this job – wanting to come in as an assistant to Dr. Smith instead of as the Chief position – my rightful position, from the beginning. Can't hold a girlfriend. I would never let a blossom such as Rose Tyler slip through my fingers like you did. Maybe your theory of showing that you're a man with flaws is just too much for some people."

Saxon glanced at his watch and smiled. "I have a lunch date with a gorgeous blonde. I'll be sure and let you know how it goes."

James dropped his head to his desk just as Wilf entered the office.

"What do ya think of the place, Rose?"

"Hmmm?" Reclining back in the pedicure chair and thoroughly enjoying the massage function, Jackie's question brought her out of a light doze. They'd spend the last few hours getting trimmed, colored, waxed and pampered and Rose enjoyed chatting with her Mum.

"This shop, do ya like it?"

"I love it." She fingered the single pastel pink streak she'd had added to her hair. Newly cut to just above her shoulders and streaked with more natural honey colored lowlights to blend in with the bleached blond, Rose felt better than she had in a long while. "I don't know how I'm gonna break it to Shareen about my hair though. She'd the one been bleachin' and cuttin' it."

"Well you can tell Shareen your Mum's gonna take care of your hair from now on and not let it get so ratty."

"Wait, what?"

Jackie wiggled her purple tipped toes. "This shop is all patients from the hospital, Rose. Men and women who are ready ta work. Dr. Mott and Dr. McCrimmon think I'm ready to start workin' again and I…I want to Rose. I need ta feel like I'm helpin' ya out. You've been doin' too much. If things go well here, they have flats, too. All part a the hospital."

"You don't wanna come home?"

"Oh, luv, I do. I want nothin' more than ta come home but I don't know if I'm ready yet. But I'll have a flat and you can come stay with me and visit."

Rose looked at her Mum. Jackie had color in her cheeks and had spent the day chatting with the other employees. She knew Jackie wouldn't be able to come home yet but this would give her an opportunity to grow. And her Mum hadn't been this excited in a long time.

"I think it's a fantastic idea, Mum."

"Good. Now tell me what's goin' on with you and that doctor of yours."

Rose could only gape. James had told her that he was passing of her Mum's case to another physician, or at least the day to day bits of it. They had planned on talking to Jackie together – which she didn't think was going to happen now – not with how confused she was feeling. Was he talking to Jackie about their relationship to try and get her to talk to him?

"Did he say somethin' to you? If he did…"

"He didn't say nothin' Rose, not even about bein' interested in ya, though ya'd have ta be blind ta miss it. Caught him staring after ya one day. No, Dr. Jones told me he's been a right git all week, somethin' about the girl he'd been seein' not talkin' to him."

"He's been a git?"

"Oh, not like you're thinkin'. He's all quiet and broodin'. Doesn't eat. I put that together with you not returnin' my calls for the last couple days – I had this set up, not the spa treatment but a tour, fer days – and I had 'im come in an' talk to me."

Swallowing, Rose followed Jackie over to the row of dryers and dropped into a chair. "So tell me your side o' things."

"Mum…"

"I've heard a bit of 'is side o' it, now I want to hear yours. Waz goin' on with you, Rose?"

Dropping her head on the table, Rose let out a sigh. "Oh Mum, he seemed so perfect. I mean he took me out fer chips that last time I saw you, yeah? And he forgot his wallet! We started textin' after that and went on a few dates, nothin' serious. Turned out he wasn't that perfect after all."

"Rose Marion Tyler no one is perfect and you are settin' yerself up for disaster if you think they are. You father certainly wasn't perfect."

Rose's head shot up and Jackie chuckled.

"It's getting' easier ta talk about Pete, lord knows that's all Dr. Jones wants to talk about. What did Dr. McCrimmon do that was so wrong?"

"It wasn't so much what he did, Mum. He hid things from me, really important things. Things we shoulda talked about."

"And how did ya find out those things? Look 'im up online, did ya?"

Rose shook her head. "I didn't even think of that. I coulda, I guess, it was a big enough story. But it happened years ago. I got a package that had all this stuff in it about his parents an' how they died an' stuff. It said that the police thought he did it, started the fire."

"And you've know 'im what, a little over a week? And you think he needed to tell you that a whole bloody town turned on 'm as a child?"

She moved to pick at her new manicure but Jackie was quicker, slapping at Rose's hands. "Mum! He already told me how he lost his parents. It was just a shock, I guess, to see that, to read all those articles about 'im."

"And you didn' give 'im any chance to explain hisself did ya? Who sent you that stuff anyways?"

"I don't know. It didn' come by post. A man was waitin' outside our flat for me."

Jackie stood and tugged Rose to her feet. She urged Rose to don her trainers and thanked the women at the spa before ushering her to the bus stop.

"You focused on the wrong thing, luv. You shoulda wondered about the man waitin' at the door!"

"Mickey didn't seem worried…"

"Mickey can be a bloody idiot and he'll be getting' an earful believe me. Now we need to get back and talk to yer boyfriend."

Huffing as she dropped onto the narrow bus seat, Rose groaned.

"He's not my boyfriend, Mum."

"We'll see about that Rose."