Chapter Text
The problem had arisen when Albert Spencer had berated his oldest son for not having a job.
He was an intern at Albert’s law firm and was paid in expenses rather than actual money, Albert always liked to be in control of things, that he would admit, so his son relying on him kept him under Albert’s control, his protection.
He had berated him about the job when he had been irritated, perhaps over something at work, perhaps at something else, Albert couldn’t remember, but it wasn’t the first time he had berated him about the lack of a job.
He hadn’t expected him to actually get a job, two in fact, the first job was in a bar, he worked from evening until close, which in Storybrooke was around midnight. James would come home smelling of beer, but not as strongly as Albert had expected. Still it was not the sort of job Albert would have found for him, and he told him so, but for some reason James disregarded this.
That had been the start of the problem.
He hadn’t realised it was going to become a problem. Not until James told him he had found a day job (the second of the jobs) in a bookstore, thanks to his co-worker, his friend , who he had met at the bar.
James valiantly tried to balance his interning with working in the bookstore, even as Albert piled on more work for him, nothing of importance really, he wouldn’t trust him, but more paperwork, typing up old cases for their records, fetching copious amounts of coffee.
Something had to break and Albert expected it to be the bookstore and the bar, he expected James to come grovelling to him, on his knees, telling him that the jobs were too much work, they were too hard, begging him to let him quit.
What he got was a neatly typed letter in an envelope on his desk.
James’ thanks for the internship and a list of the things he had learnt, and his two weeks notice.
He had quit.
This was when Albert started to take notice more of his son, and what the hell had changed in him.
The job, the co-worker, the friend… the girl.
Lacey French was her name, apparently, she worked haphazard hours, from what he could tell, trying not to take too many night shifts due to the fact she had a young son, yes, this was certainly trouble.
She was not the sort of person he would have expected, would have let , his son socialise with. He had said this, on the third day after he had read the resignation letter, he had brought it up during their silent dinner he insisted on having with his son every friday.
This was when James told him that he was moving out.
That had, for once, left Albert Spencer lost for words.
It wasn’t that James was particularly young, he was twenty four, he had an undergraduate degree which he had studied from home, not in a degree which Albert held much regard to but he had still been a dedicated student, he had never moved out before.
He had barely stayed away for the night, in fact Albert couldn’t even remember him going to sleepovers as a child, though those memories were becoming hazy due to time.
James had once been gone for a week and a half- the week after his high school graduation, he and his brother, Albert hadn't been aware of their plan and his anger upon their return had been vitriolic - but even that was too hard to properly remember.
Probably due to age, not that he was
that
old.
He didn’t bother to help as James packed up his belongings into cardboard boxes, he was careful not to take anything which Albert could have claimed as his belongings, Albert felt a tinge of pride at that, he wasn’t sure if it was because he had taught his son to be cautious and observant, or because it felt as though they were playing some sort of game which James had finally caught onto.
He did notice him take several photo albums and framed pictures and rolls of negative film though, technically they weren’t James’, but they didn’t feel like George’s either.
They had been the product of his long departed wife’s hobby- photography, well once it had been more than a hobby, it had been a career. It had been how they met.
But George’s family had been of good standing in the community and in those days wives were expected to give things like that up to fit in, at least in the social circles the Spencer’s moved in.
Albert didn’t protest him taking those, if Albert wanted to reminisce he would just think of his memories, the mementos of the past served no purpose, what was the point of regretting or longing for what was, it wouldn’t make a difference.
He had also noticed James spending more and more time in the bedroom opposite the one he was moving out of. The room of his twin brother, younger by twenty two minutes, David.
Albert didn’t spend any time inside the room himself, he hadn’t for a long time, it was like the photographs, what would be the point of trapping himself in the past?
There was nothing in David’s room he needed.
And there was nothing in David’s room
David
needed. Not anymore.
“So, you’re really leaving?” His lip curled as he watched James carrying a cardboard box labelled ‘records etc’, he shifted his body as he stood still in a way which people did when something was heavy.
James sucked in a breath, he nodded his head, then remembering how his father hated that he gave an audible answer as well.
“Yes, we have the apartment all set up, I helped move Lacey and Gideon’s things this morning, it seemed best that way.” His eyes glanced toward the open door, towards his freedom, towards Lacey in her beat up old car waiting for him, he had asked her not to come inside, he didn’t want to subject her to his father.
“Hmm.” He hummed slowly in response.
What he didn’t tell James was that when James and Lacey had expressed an interest in the apartment Sidney Glass had rang him asking if he wanted the ‘lowdown’ on the place, apparently it was pretty small and run down but up to proper housing codes, just.
He had sent Albert photographs, Albert didn’t know what James saw in the place, their cellar was nearly twice the size of the place, the only possible reason,
attraction
, was his roommate, Lacey.
Sidney had sent him photos of that, her, too, for a price, it seemed that they were a lot more than friends as they sat in that dirty diner, James’ arm slung over her shoulders as they laughed.
There was the young child who would be moving in too, something Albert thought should have shown James red flags, should have sent him running, but there were many photographs of the three of them too, a makeshift family.
“Have you been to see him?”
The question brought Albert out of his thoughts, he raised his eyebrow ordering James to expand his question, but he stayed otherwise silent.
“Davey.” His voice came out quiet, soft, younger than his twenty four years. He despised that voice because it reminded him of the boy his father had so easily manipulated, not the man he was now.
Albert let a breath out through his nose, nostrils flaring ever so slightly in annoyance, but his mask didn’t slip. He simply retrieved his cell phone from his suit pocket, flicked down the screen as though checking for important emails, then placed it back.
“What use would that be? He is in a coma, he doesn’t know that we’re there, he doesn’t even know he’s in a hospital. If there was any update on his condition I would be informed.”
His words were steel and for a reason, Albert would be informed, but officially James was David’s next of kin, as soon as the twins had turned eighteen they had put their emergency contact information as each other, not their father.
Albert would be informed because everyone in the town knew who he was, not because he legally had to be.
“There have been studies. It’s thought that people in comas can hear more than we thought they did even just a couple of years ago.” He intended to sound informed but he knew, even as he spoke, that he sounded naive to his father’s ears.
“If he ever wakes up he will be mentally handicapped and infirmed.” Albert told him firmly, all emotion stripped from his voice. “It has been six years.”
James’ eyes narrowed. He opened his mouth to protest, to shout, to do something to stick up for his brother, but he just shut it and shook his head. Albert was a lost cause, he knew that.
“Goodbye, father, thank you for everything.” He didn’t exactly have a lot to thank him for except perhaps many years of counselling needed, but he had learnt young it was best to at least seem polite and thankful towards his father, it made life easier.
His mother had always told him to seem like he was agreeing and then do it his way in secret, it made life easier and quieter, his younger brother had always found that difficult, he didn’t think that you should pretend to hide your morals to give in to bullies, it had always left David being punished more, and being the second favourite son of Albert Spencer.
He waited for the small nod from his father, dismissing him, he made his break for freedom, and just hoped that Lacey’s pile of junk car wouldn't break down in front of Albert’s house before they could drive off. James could think of very few things which would be more embarrassing.
“I expect to see you for dinner on Friday, as usual.”
The words cut down James’ spine like a frozen knife. It wasn’t a request, it wasn’t an offer, it was an expectation, and James even now did not dare push his father. “Of course.”