Your Boots 
by Becky Thomson

Hi everyone. New fanfic here. Based on my one viewing, of Fate, and a quote that I remembered from it. It's a songfic to Mel C's song 'If That Were Me',
which is a very moving song, dealing with homelessness. I've shamelessly paraphrased the title from a piece of prose called 'Your Shoes' which I read
last year. *blushes*. Annnnnyway, I'd like to say a big thankyou to Mary for her wonderful beta-reading skills, and Tracey for her advice and comments.  Feedback is welcome and encouraged!

( :: indicates lyrics)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Your Boots 
by Becky Thomson

----------------------------------
"I guess he had the kind of life he wanted. I never understood it. How it
happened this way."
- Jeremiah's sister, "Fate"
----------------------------------


::Where do they go and what do they do?
They're walking on by. They're looking at you.
Some people stop, some people stare.
But would they help you, and do they care?::

    It's all over now. You've finally have the peace you sought. I think that's truly all that you ever wanted in life; some peace. It took you a while to find it, Lord knows; it was a long time coming. I used to see you around the city. On the streets, in the library, where you loved to be. And I saw the way that people stared at you. It made me mad. They didn't see *you*, they didn't even look properly. All they saw was a social problem. They didn't see you as a person, as a man. They couldn't see my brother, whom I loved, and still love.

::How did you fall? Did you fall at all?
Are you happy when you are sleeping underneath the stars?
When it's cold is it your hope that keeps you warm? ::

How did it happen? Why did it happen? Why did you want to live that life? I wish you could have talked to me more easily. I could have helped,
helped more than you would let me.     When I would see you, roaming the streets, my heart, it would bleed. And I wondered what happened to Jerry, to my brother. I remember what we were like as children. Well, it would be hard to forget, wouldn't it? I remember when I was little, I must have only been about seven years old, when we went to stay at that house on the beach with Mom and Dad. It was wonderful then. You taught me how to swim in the ocean. It must have taken you nearly all that week to teach me, but you were always so patient. You were a wonderful teacher. You never once raised your voice, or yelled at me when I couldn't do something. You would have made a fantastic teacher. But when I asked you why you wouldn't, you could never give me an answer. I can't work out what happened between us. You used to talk to me so much. I was your baby sister, and you used to want to protect me. You made sure that everyone knew I was Jeramiah Mason's little sister, and that if they hurt me, they would have you to deal with. And even though I was younger, you always came to me for advice. I'd help you with problems with your girlfriend, and encouraged you when you were sure that you couldn't ever manage to climb that damn rope in gym. It was the one thing that I could do easily, that you couldn't.  Heights, and climbing. They always scared you. But you told me it was always easier when I was around.

    What changed? When did you stop being able to tell me everything? Why couldn't you tell me what was bothering you? Why did you have to drift away?


::A spare bit of change is all that I give.
How is that gonna help when you've got nowhere to live?::

    I'd have taken you into my home without a moment's hesitation. And I offered more than once, you knew that. You wouldn't let me give you more
than the next sympathetic stranger, the anonymous passer-by. I hated that. I hated it more than you could possibly imagine.

::Some turn away so they don't see.
I bet you'd look if that were me.::

    You never totally shut me out. You would always smile at me, and sometimes I'd manage to get a hug from you. I don't know what I would have done if you'd stopped recognising me. I think I would have completely broken down. Not knowing when I'd next see you, it always played on my conscience.
It was a weight on my mind.


::How did you fall? Did you fall at all?
Is it lonely where you are, sleeping in between parked cars?
When it thunders where do you hide from the storm? ::


    I worried about you. I worried all the time. I used to drive my husband mad talking about you. Especially when it was so cold out, when it rained. I worried about you getting ill, or hurt, or what people might do to you out there. You read all sorts of things in the papers. I always wished that someone would do something about them. I wished I could. But I'm only one person - what could I do? What *can* I do?


::Could you ever forgive my self-pity?
When you've got nothing and you're living on the streets of the city.
I couldn't live without my phone.
But you don't even have a home.::


    I used to feel guilty. Compared to you, I had everything. A nice home, a warm bed, people who loved and cared for me. You used to have that. And I
still care for you, even if you won't let me.  

   I was thinking, this morning, about the last Christmas we spent together, before you left. That's a happy memory for me. I think I was looking for comfort. I wonder if you ever thought about the times we spent together.

    I remember thinking for weeks about a gift for you. I wanted to get you something that you really wanted. Most people find men difficult to buy
gifts for, I know I find it difficult to buy my husband anything. But you? You were different. It was about a week before Christmas when I saw them,
and remembered. It was pure chance that I saw them, it wasn't somewhere I normally went. They weren't flashy or obviously fashionable, but you had
said how much you liked them. I bought them, and I was so happy when I saw your face, after you'd unwrapped them. They were just a pair of boots, but
they suited you completely.

    I have those boots again now. You were still wearing them, right up until you died. I liked to think that I'd helped you in some way, and that, maybe you kept them because they reminded you of me. But I never asked. So now I'll never know.

::How did we fall? Can we get up at all?
Are we happy where we are on our lonely little star?
When it's cold is it your hope that keeps you warm? ::

    I wondered whether you were happy out there. You said it was the sort of life you wanted, but I couldn't understand, and I still can't. I can't understand how you were happy out there. Out where it was cold, and lonely, and you would have been hungry.

    But maybe you were happy. And that, that's all that mattered. I don't know whether anyone can truly say that they are happy. I've begun to question whether I truly am. Maybe I'm the one who's alone. I don't know. I just wish I could talk to you again, Jerry. I'm going to miss you so much. My brother, my friend. I'm going to miss you.


::Where do they go and what do they do?
They're walking on by. They're looking at you.
They're walking on by. They're looking at you. ::

Email the author: phoebe_or_becks@hotmail.com
 
Back Home to McGinty's
  Stories by Title 
Stories by Author