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Title: Jamie - Chapter 2
Author: Me
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2961
Disclaimer: Doctor Who and all its characters belong to the BBC. I own nothing - not even the Fourteenth Doctor.
Summary: Jamie McCrimmon was returned to 18th century Scotland, his memories erased... But one day, a ghost from those lost days shows up at his doorstep.
Warning: Spoilers for The War Games and The Two Doctors.
Author's Notes: I believe [personal profile] alouzon deserves a co-writing credit for this chapter, since there's a great chunk of text that belongs to her more than to me. I wouldn't have been able to work out those snags without you :)


Chapter 2

The Laird was forced to make some hard choices upon his arrival on the Continent. He himself would have preferred to travel with the Prince in his exile, as he moved in the social circles of the minor French nobles; but many of the Laird's clansmen and the crew of the Annabelle were disillusioned with the Prince, angry at how quickly he had fled the battlefield, without a seeming care for those who had suffered so much for his cause. The Laird was a good and kind man, and as loyal to his people as they were to him, so he chose to stay with them as they forged a new life on the north coast. When the Annabelle arrived in France, the exiles organised themselves into a small mercantile shipping company, and split into two groups: those who would continue to sail with Captain William MacKay, and those who would stay at the harbour and deal with the administrative matters of the business.

The Laird and his daughter, along with the English clerk, Perkins, chose the latter while Jamie, driven by an unexplainable impulse to keep moving, chose the former. It had come as something of a shock to himself that he knew how to swim, but when the Annabelle made the voyage to France, he had often stood at the prow of the ship, looking down into the churning waters and known he could do it. Without the fear of drowning should he fall off the pier, he felt able to follow his need to travel.

Life at sea, however, was not the source of excitement he expected. The Annabelle was employed mostly with local runs for small merchants, and never travelled far, so his hopes of visiting new places, or facing pirates or other dangerous creatures (he often wondered where on earth he got those ideas) were soon removed from his expectations of the job. The only moments he enjoyed during those travels were when he covered the night watch, as he would spend the time staring at the stars, searching for something he once again found himself unable to define. During his travels on the Annabelle, Jamie made the discovery that he also knew how to read and write, skills that he knew he had not possessed before the massacre at Culloden. Like his newfound ability to swim, he simply knew he had the talent, after he had accidentally read some bills of shipping that Captain MacKay had asked him to fetch from his cabin. Jamie was a practical man, and knew that just because he did not know where he gained his new skills, that did not make them any less valuable. Of course, he did not actually tell anyone that he had just learned of his new gifts: that would just be asking for trouble.

Nineteen months after leaving Scotland, he decided to give up on the life of a sailor, and returned to the coast, offering once more his services to the Laird. Of course, since they had no bagpipes, this meant that he would spend the following months using his new skills to run small errands for Kirsty or Perkins, or sitting with Colin McLaren and Bruce MacLean, another exiled Highlander, while they reminisced about the old days in Scotland and the failed uprising. Bruce, a tall, fair-haired young man about Jamie's age, seemed to be as discouraged and depressed with the subject as Jamie, but neither had the heart to speak of this to the Laird and just let him talk passionately about their homeland or about the Prince, only occasionally adding a word of agreement to the conversation.

Jamie's mind would often drift to other subjects (usually the strange places he visited in dreams), while Bruce's thoughts shifted to the world around them - and, Jamie soon noticed, to Kirsty in particular; Bruce's eyes reliably followed her while she completed her housework. After a while, the informal courtship between his new friend and the Laird's daughter began to distract Jamie from the contemplation of his ethereal wanderings, much to his relief - not only because he was pleased to think of something real for a change, but because he was glad to see something happy take place in their midst after all the misery the exiles had endured.

As time went by, everybody settled into life in a foreign land; normalcy and routine began to take over. Jamie still felt like he was meant to be somewhere else, and the nightmares continued to plague his sleep, but at least he no longer felt restless or angry like he did that day the Doctor and his friends mysteriously vanished.

However, on the night he dreamed about killing Victoria, everything changed.

***

He struggled to return to sleep, as it was still dark, but it was no use. His mind was like a whirlpool, faces and voices overlapping in a confusing torrent. The McCrimmon Phantom Piper, lightning leaving its fingertips. A strange creature, its voice as burning steel, forcing Victoria to identify herself over and over again (that recurring nightmare was the reason he could recall her name). The Doctor encased in a glass dome, silently screaming in agony. Monstrous, scaly beasties hissing at him. Talking potatoes. Pulsating cobwebs. A horse with a horn on its forehead. He knew this was all in his mind, and that it was all impossible, but knowing this didn't make the visions go away. And, what was worse, a part of him didn't really want these horrors to leave. It was like he wanted to suffer. These dreams seemed more real to him than the life he was leading now.

"I'm going crazy," he mumbled, as he furiously punched his pillow into a more comfortable shape. It didn't help: he could not go back to sleep. He quietly dressed in the dark, pulling on his boots and wrapping his plaid tightly around his shoulders against the chill, and stepped outside. Taking a deep breath, he rejoiced in the scent of the nighttime breeze rolling in from the ocean, and sat down on the doorstep to gaze at the stars. Hopefully, this would calm his mind and soothe his senses, and he would be able to sleep quietly.

The ramshackle cottage in which he currently lived was located close to the pier, together with half a dozen other small abodes, all of them occupied by the exiled Highlanders. The actual village, with a long, complicated French name Jamie had long given up trying to pronounce, was further along the shore, down the road behind them, a small patch of woodland separating the two communities. This pleased Jamie, as it meant that the prying eyes of the villagers were rarely upon them. Whenever he had to go there on an errand, he noticed people pointing at his kilt and staring unwelcomingly, which not only annoyed him but inexplicably filled his mind with the sound of uncontrollable female giggles.

"Hey, what are you laughing at?" he'd hear his own voice ask.

"Your clothes," the laughing girl would then say. "You're wearing female garments."

Jamie shook his head. That never happened. The villagers only pointed at them and muttered amongst themselves, but never said anything. He doubted they could understand English or Gaelic, anyway.

Look at the stars, he thought. Forget it. Just forget it.

He was immersed in these thoughts when he heard it. A whooshing, grating sound, distinctly alien and at the same time so familiar. His heart leapt, and he felt his insides freeze.

This wasn't inside his mind. This was real.

"What was that?" The door to Bruce's cottage opened, and the young man stepped outside, still groggy but nevertheless alarmed. "Was that a bear?"

"No," was Jamie's automatic response.

"Then what was it?"

Jamie did not stop to reply. He had no idea of what the sound could be, but something told him he had to follow it.

"Jamie, wait!" he heard Bruce call. As he continued to walk, he heard his friend curse, and the sound of a door slamming. Nevertheless, he did not stop to wait or slow down.

It didn't take him long to find the wooden blue box. Having seen it countless times in his dreams, the sight made him gasp. This was not possible.

"Are... you... daft?" Bruce had reached him, panting with fright and surprise, a pistol ready in his hand. "Bears growling in the woods, and you rush out here, unarmed and-" The words died on his lips when he noticed the box, and his eyes widened. After a few seconds, he finally managed to speak again. "What is that?"

"I'm not sure," Jamie replied quietly. He took a step forward, raising a hand to touch it.

"Be careful!" Bruce whispered.

The moment Jamie's hand touched the wooden surface, he knew there was nothing to fear. The vibration he felt on his fingertips sent him waves of reassurance, and he smiled in recognition.

He knew this. It was home.

"Jamie, come on," Bruce insisted, casting his gaze about anxiously. "What about the bear?"

"There's no bear," Jamie replied quietly, still smiling.

"Then wha-"

At that moment, the door at the side of the box opened, and the two young men started.

"There's someone in there," Bruce said, surprised.

"Maybe it's your bear," was Jamie's reply. He advanced to the door, in excited expectation. However, his face fell when he realized that the man stepping out was not the small man he was hoping to see. Instead, a tall, massive man stumbled from inside, immediately collapsing into his arms.

"What in the name-"

"Shh!" Jamie silenced Bruce. The man was heavy, Jamie guessed he weighed at least sixteen stone, and he was not sure he'd be able to hold him long. "Help me out, will you?"

Bruce grabbed the man's right arm, relieving some of the weight. Jamie raised the man's face to take a good look at him; the stranger was unconscious and his face was a sickly white.

"D'you know him?" Bruce asked.

Jamie quickly shook his head. "Never seen him before. You?"

His friend took a good look at the stranger as well before shaking his head. "Where d'you think he came from?"

"The box, of course."

"Don't be a fool, man."

"Look," Jamie finally said, "are we going to stand here asking stupid questions, or are we going to help him out? The man's not well."

"I'm not surprised. I would be poorly too, if I was stuck inside a box."

"Bruce!"

"Och, all right then."

By unspoken agreement they manoeuvred themselves so that Jamie could carry the stranger by the shoulders while Bruce took hold of him by the knees, and set off. Although the distance was very short, it took a great deal of time and effort to manage to carry the stranger, as he was much taller and heavier than either of them: with Bruce being as thin as a twig and not as strong as Jamie, it also meant that the weight distribution was not as balanced as they hoped. When they finally reached the cottages, they were both struggling hard to keep their balance and catch their breath.

"Bruce!" Kirsty appeared from inside the McLarens' house. "Jamie! What was that noise?"

"J-just..." Bruce panted, eventually giving up.

"O…open my…door for us…Kirsty," Jamie managed to utter between deep breaths, nodding his head toward the cottage. Although the girl could not hear his words properly, she nevertheless understood the message and ran to open the door.

Jamie's cottage was not small, comprised of a large single chamber with five small, rudimentary cots made of straw, and a table, upon which presently sat a loaf of bread wrapped in cloth and a water jug. The men he shared it with were currently sailing aboard the Annabelle, so it stood empty tonight; Jamie usually spent his days at the more commodious and gracious home inhabited by the Laird and his daughter, and the cottage had a depressing air of abandonment. It did not feel like a home; Jamie only returned there to sleep. As quickly and as gently as possible, he and Bruce rested the stranger on one of the spare beds.

"Och, he's heavy!" Bruce grumbled.

Kirsty entered after them, curious. "Who is he?"

"Don't know," said Jamie as he fetched and lit a trio of candles. "We went to the woods, and there he was."

"Inside this strange box," Bruce added.

"A what?"

"Never mind that now," snapped Jamie. "Can we not do something for him?"

"I don't know," said Kirsty, while Bruce shrugged.

"Fine," Jamie sighed. He knelt by the bed, and turned to the stranger. "Hey," he spoke, shaking him gently. "Who are you? D'you know why you're ill?" And where's the Doctor? a voice inside him almost made him ask, but he ignored it. This was no time to think about the Doctor, as the situation was surely unrelated everywhere, except in his mind.

The stranger mumbled something unintelligible in a very faint voice.

"He's still alive," he told the others.

"Ask him what he's doing here," Bruce said.

Kirsty shook her head. "Nah, too early for that. Let him wake up proper first."

"I suppose you're right, lass." Bruce stretched. "And we'd best get some more sleep, d'you not agree? It's still pitch dark out there."

"Aye," Jamie agreed, pointing at one of the other free beds. "You can stay here if you wish. Kirsty, you should get back home, your father will be worried."

"Never mind Father, I want to help. What can I do?"

Jamie rose and picked up the jug from the table. "Well, there's no water. Would you get some?"

"Aye." She took the jug from his hands and was about to leave when Bruce intercepted her.

"You cannae go out on your own, woman!" He was clearly alarmed. "What about the bear?"

Jamie glared at his friend and rolled his eyes. Kirsty, on the other hand, just smirked and left. I don't know what Polly did to that lass, Jamie thought, and was surprised to realize it wasn't a criticism.

Suddenly, the stranger spoke, his voice still weak but much clearer. "Yrcanos..."

The two young men's ears pricked. "D'you hear that?" Jamie asked.

"Aye." They both moved to the bedside and knelt by the stranger.

"What did you say?" Jamie asked him.

"Yrcanos..."

Jamie and Bruce exchanged glances.

"Yrcanos..." the stranger spoke again. "Your queen... beseeches..." He opened his eyes, looking around in clear confusion. "Where..." He looked at the two figures in front of him, and his eyes widened. "Jamie?"

Jamie's eyes grew as big as the stranger's. "D'you know me?"

The stranger gave a faint smile. "Hal-hallucination. It has to be a hallucination..." He closed his eyes, but Jamie shook him, trying to make him look at him again.

"Wait. Stay awake and talk to me. Who are you? How d'you know me?"

"You don't know who...?" The stranger paused, and chuckled softly to himself. "Of course. I've regenerated so many times..."

"He regenewhat?" Bruce asked, but Jamie wasn't listening to him, focusing exclusively on the man lying on the pallet.

"Who are you?" He shook the man once again. "Who are you?"

The man opened his eyes again, and the smile returned to his face. "I'm the Doctor..." he whispered.

Jamie rose to his feet and looked away. No, he thought. This is impossible. This cannae be the Doctor. The Doctor is a small man with bright blue eyes. And yet...

"He's not the Doctor I know."

"I am too, Jamie McCrimmon. I am another aspect of him, just as he is of me."

"Eh?"

"I
was him, he will be me."

"Here's the water," Kirsty said, as she entered. She noticed Jamie staring at nothing as if in a trance. "What's wrong?" Bruce shrugged. She shook Jamie's shoulder. "Jamie, what's wrong?" Jamie, however, hardly noticed her presence.

"Who will I be?" he muttered.

"Eh?" The girl poked his arm. "Jamie!"

"It cannae be," he told her, finally noticing her presence. "Can it?"

"What are you talking about?"

Jamie turned to the stranger again, and shook him. "Wake up. Wake up!" The man opened his eyes again, smiling faintly as he recognized him. "Are you really him? Like that other man was?"

The stranger moved his lips, but no sound came out.

"Was it all real?" Silence. "Tell me!"

"Jamie, I don't think he can talk," Bruce said, completely puzzled by his friend's strange behaviour.

"Please," Jamie begged. "Please, you have to tell me. Are you truly the Doctor?"

"The what?" Kirsty's face clouded with confusion and concern.

The stranger's eyes closed again.

"Hey," Jamie shook him again, with increasing violence. "Hey!"

Both Bruce and Kirsty hastened to stop him.

"Jamie, what do you think you're doing?"

"Stop it! You're hurting him!"

"No, let me go!" he yelled as they dragged him to his feet. "If he's the Doctor-"

"He's not the Doctor," Kirsty scowled. "I met him, remember?"

"Kirsty, you don't understand-"

"Look!" The terror in Bruce's voice distracted the other two from their bickering, and they turned to see what had alarmed him so. The stranger was glowing.

"Our Lord save us," Kirsty muttered. "What's happening to him?" Only Jamie dared to approach the bed once more.

"Doctor?"

The light emanating from the body was becoming stronger with each second, and the three Highlanders were forced to avert their eyes due to its intensity. Then, as abruptly as it had appeared, it dimmed and died.

Hesitantly, the three of them approached the body, letting out a collective gasp as they realized that, instead of the stranger they had helped carry inside, there was now a woman lying on the bed.
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