Chapter 11

"You have to understand; I was sixteen and tired of bein' the responsible one. I wanted to raise hell. And then I met Jimmy Stone at a club…"

Staring forward, Rose got lost in the memory. "God, he was everythin' I shoulda stayed away from. Five years older, sang in a would-be rock band, drank and partied like he didn't have a care in the world. And he was gorgeous. He was everythin' I wanted.

I started seein' him behind Mum's back, not comin' home from school, sneakin' out late at night, that sorta thing. Came in pissed once and she had a fit. I left and moved in with him that night."

Seeing her hands clench the quilt, James placed a hand between her shoulder blades and rubbed.

"Rose, you don't have to tell me this all at once, not if it's going to be difficult."

She shook her head and a humorless laugh barked out. "It's gonna be tough as hell no matter when or how I tell it. I know your secret, so now you need to know mine." Rolling her neck, she continued.

"At first, it was pretty cool. I hated school anyway, so I just stopped goin'. Mostly we hung out in his bedsit with his band mates and drank or got high while writin' songs. Pretty soon I found out that Jimmy did a lot of gigs as favors and what money he got – he owed people. So I started workin' at the chippy down the street during the day ta make sure rent got paid. I got home and had to try and clean up the flat or make dinner and I was too tired to make it to a couple of his gigs." She drew a deep breath.

"That's when he hit me for the first time. Wasn't much, just a slap across the face, but still. Said I was his girl and I needed to support 'im. He played regular at this one bar, sorta seedy lookin', but they needed a waitress so I started workin' nights, too. I was tired all the time and he noticed. Called me fat, told me I was eatin' too may chips at work, even started showin' up and yellin' at me. But that wasn't the worst part.

The worst part…the worst part was sex. He was my first and I thought it was gonna be great. I hated it. Hated it every time. It always hurt and if I struggled, it was worse. He was always tellin' me about all the girls throwin' themselves at 'im while he played and he wasn't one to say. If I left the bar before 'im, he would come home so pissed and high. He always wanted sex then and I thought if I just laid there it wouldn't be so bad."

She hadn't realized she'd started crying until James cupped her cheeks and rubbed his thumbs over her tears.

"Rose, did he rape you?"

She shook her head slightly, not wanting to dislodge James' hands.

"No. Maybe. I don't know. I never said nothin' and after the first few times he hit me for not cleanin' or somethin', I learned not to say no."

"How did you leave him?"

She snorted. "I don't know if I woulda. He got arrested for drugs about six months in. When the cops came to the flat and saw me, they charged him with battery. Racked up a ton breakin' the lease comin' back to Mum."

"Oh, Rose." James wrapped his arms around Rose and pulled her onto his lap. One hand stroked her hair while the other held on tight as he rocked her. Her tears where silent and he couldn't help but wonder if that came from her time with Jimmy as well.

"You, my precious girl, are so brave."

Sniffing, she shook her head against his neck. "No, I'm not. I didn't leave 'im, even when I caught 'im with other girls. I just ducked my head and tried to give 'im no reason to notice me."

"You survived and you are a beautiful person. Remember, I saw you with Miss Foster; you didn't have to be so kind to her. Most wouldn't have."

"But I'm broken. I don't know if I can be … physical …with anyone."

James pulled back so he could see her face, then raised a brow and looked at the couch.

Rose chuckled. "I meant it when I said that was a first. And with clothes and stuff…I felt normal. But Doctor, I don't know if I can…if we can…have sex."

"Is it that you aren't ready because I will wait as long –"

"No, that's not it, obviously. But it hurt every single time Jimmy and I did it. I was so sure somethin' was wrong with me that I saw three different doctors."

"And what did they say?" James tried to keep his voice even. If the bastard had damaged Rose permanently…

"I'm fine, normal. There was no reason for it to hurt like it did." A blush crept up her cheeks. "I don't even…"she waved her hand vaguely in the direction of her crotch. "Myself because of the pain he caused."

"Rose, you show desire and that is a miracle. My miracle. He could have left you so scarred you wouldn't ever want to be physical with anyone again. And you chose me of all men. Rose, I'm honored."

Wiping at her cheeks, Rose smiled. "You don't give yourself enough credit, James McCrimmon." Pausing she looked at her fingers, smeared with makeup, and groaned. James laughed.

"You do look a bit like a raccoon." Shoving him back against the sofa, Rose climbed off him and headed for the tiny loo, tying her hair up as she went. "I think I want to take a quick shower. Are we staying here tonight or going to your place?"

The sky was just turning dusky outside and there were take out containers scattered everywhere. And he didn't have his car so they'd have to walk to the tube in the dark.

"Go ahead and shower. We can clean up here and pack a bag for my place. I don't like the idea of going across town in the dark."

"'Kay. Don't get into too much trouble. And don't take apart the telly!"

"Oi! One time!" he called to a closed door.

Listening to the sounds of the shower, James began cleaning up their mess, chuckling to himself when he heard Rose singing. Reaching under the sink, he grabbed a large bin bag and dropped the trash from their dinner along with the bag currently in the rubbish bin in before heading to the fridge. He didn't want Rose coming home to a mess of spoilt food. Frowning, he poked at the nearly empty carton of milk and eggs, the only things edible other than condiments and those, at least in his mind, never went bad. The freezer wasn't much better with only a half empty bag of chips. No wonder she was always ready to eat when he suggested food.

Grabbing the banana box that contained the remnants of the toaster and oven, James pulled his mini tool kit out of his jacket pocket and began tinkering. The methodical task of removing screws and springs and cataloging them (even if it was all in his head) allowed his mind to clear and focus. While they'd both agreed Saxon was a likely suspect, it was only because Rose was just beginning to get to know him. If he took her to Scotland…well, that would be an enlightening trip for her.

Dr. Smith had found a kindred spirit in the young Dr. McCrimmon. He'd been angry at the world then, unable to get a job in a hospital though there'd been no lack of interviews. Just when he thought he'd nailed it, the employer would mysteriously withdraw the offer. It got to the point he'd had a spectacular row with his grandparents, accusing them of sabotaging him. Turned out his juvenile records, his sealed juvenile records, were getting faxed to prospective employers just before the hiring decision was made. His grandfather had stepped in then, or rather his lawyers did, and James found himself languishing away in a basement research facility.

So when John Smith stepped in, James was basically a glorified file clerk and data miner in an unhappy relationship with a woman who was picking out her own engagement ring and trying to move herself into his flat while he was trying to move her out. Maybe Smith saw something he related to in James, he'd never asked and Smith never told, maybe it was the survivors remorse that lurked in his eyes, but the next week, James found himself in St. Agnes Hospital working in the outpatient clinic with PTSD veterans. And his soon to be ex was furious.

Shaking his head, James murmured "Always the blonds…"

"Waz 'always the blonds?'"

Rose's voice so close startled him and he would have sent screws flying everywhere if it weren't for her quick hands.

"Sorry 'bout that. Been sittin' here for the past ten minutes wondering where you went. You looked so far away."

"Consider yourself privileged, Rose Tyler. Not many people can sneak up on me. I was thinking about the past."

Frowning, Rose picked up a heating coil. "About blonds from your past?" she raised her brow.

"What?" He looked up then and noticed her disgruntled expression. "No, well sort of. You know how people have a type?"

"Umhm. Like mine was light haired bad boys with tattoos."

"Yes, well – wait, really? And you think a pretty boy like me is good looking?" James sat there with wide eyes.

Rose tossed the coil at him. "Don't start. You have a nice bum. Anyway we're talking about your blonds."

"They aren't my blonds. I was sort of reminiscing a bit. About how things were when I first met John Smith. I was unhappy at work and home wasn't much better. I always had a thing for blonds – well there was this one time in university with a girl named Christina, she was brunette. Never did find my trousers or pants. Anyway, I was dating a French woman, Reinette, at the time. She's the one who decorated my flat here. Had us engaged about two months after we met. Hated John because he wasn't in awe of her."

"What happened to her?"

"We broke up when she realized I wasn't taking her to London with me. I have an active restraining order against her still. She tried to set fire to my flat with me in it."

Wood scratched against linoleum s Rose pushed her chair back and stood. "What?! Did she know what happened to your parents? Why wasn't she arrested? Where is she now?"

"Easy, Rose." James stood as well and moved to lightly grip her arms. "It's been almost a year now. She was a French citizen and her father is a diplomat. Plus, she never actually set fire to anything. I came home to this dramatic scene with dozens of candles set out in the living room and piles of my clothes soaked in wine. Reinette was sobbing, clutching a ring that I never bought her, and asking how I could throw everything away."

He blew out "I guess that's my kryptonite. Fear of commitment."

"Doctor, James, I don't blame you for not wantin' to marry 'er. And I'm not askin' for marriage, you know that, right?"

Together they began packing up his project. "I know Rose, I just want you to know I'm not that great of a catch. I could have handled Reinette better. I could have…"

A crash in the living room startled them and the acrid smell of smoke began to fill the flat.

"Do you have an extinguisher?"

James didn't wait for an answer as her ran into the small living room and saw a smoking bottle on the scorched carpet. Not thinking, he grabbed it and tossed it back out the window to the empty lot below where there was a small bang and more smoke.

The hiss of a chemical extinguisher made him turn and he watched Rose spray over a small patch over carpet.

"What the hell?" She asked, pushing her hair out of her eyes.

"Smoke bomb. More to scare or disorient than to cause damage." Rose cell chimed and she grabbed it from the couch.

"It's Mickey."

James nodded. "Have him come over. I'll call emergency." He grabbed her hand. "I keep thinking this is about me, about someone after me. But this…"

Rose nodded. "Nobody knew you were stayin' here. Does that mean someone is after me?"