DANGER ZONE.

He smiles at her as she presses their foreheads together, something soft, small, but all hers. When she sits back, he goes back to running his fingers along the seam in her jeans, feeling each of the little bumps under his callused fingertips. She speaks up again, and it startles him, just a little bit. His uncle's name is Ted? That makes him ache inside, makes him want to reach for his phone and make a call to America, despite the time of day it'd be for his Ted to be getting a phone call right now. "Don't tell me he supports United..." Jamie tries to joke again, though the joke about his uncle comes out sounding hollow. Georgina, Theo, Ted, and Georgie. The family Jamie hadn't had growing up. The family he should've had. He wraps his arm around Georgie's waist, burying his face into her stomach, trying to process everything he'd just learned. Twenty-six years old, just learning about himself and his past - maybe some things are better left unsaid, some ghosts rid of by sacrificing things at a show & tell. This is Georgie's sacrifice show & tell, though - Jamie has nothing to give, when it comes to his blood. "Did y'know Dad's family...?" he asks, after a moment of silence. He's just trying to figure out how many people he's never known [ will never know ] that are bragging about him in pubs, in beer gardens, in dens, likely all still in Manchester. People that may have been booing him at the Etihad last season.

she undoes his braids gently, sifting her fingers through the intricate do until his hair was loose once more and then those soft fingers make work of starting again, much like they'd done many times in their lives, sighing softly and biting back her own solemn tears. these were the same hands that had wiped his tears when he'd scuffed his knees playing out, that'd so carefully applied plasters and held his injuries for her to give them a kiss. the hands that'd helped him gel his hair up for school when he was just a kid, complimenting him on how cool he was and how everyone would want to be just like him. that'd held his hand in the shops, tugging him away from the toys and the things that she couldn't quite afford with a heavy heart. that fed him calpol when he was unwell and carried him to bed when he fell asleep on the sofa beside her. the hands of a mother who time and time again sacrificed, without ever wanting anything in return than her little boy to just be happy.

georgie thinks of ted, her ted, the brother she'd loved so fiercely, who read her stories when she was scared of thunderstorms and who told his friends to fuck off when they were mean to her. how he stood at the window and watched her trudge her suitcase and backpack along, a girl of seventeen to his twenty. he'd let her leave, he didn't even chase after her, didn't even try to find her when she'd gotten involved with social services. then, she thinks about his ted, who'd forged a family in the richmond team, who jamie spoke of so highly, with such love, " i know he would, baby. he were always so good to you, weren't he? is good still. " she smiles a little, " though i'm glad i'm not the one payin' your phone bill no more, eh? phone calls to america my ass, i'd've 'ad ya cleaning dishes forever to make up for them costs. "

He keeps himself quiet as his mother talks about life before him. He’s heard so few glimpses into that life in all his 25 [ nearly 26 ] years. He wants to know more, but he’d never push Georgie into telling him anything she isn’t comfortable talking about. When Jamie gets to hear about it, he listens - and listens well. He keeps rubbing her back with his fingertips, eyes on her face. Hearing that his grandmother referred to him as an it was unsurprising, but it still hurts. He can feel some of that Tartt anger flaring up inside of him, but he pushes it away, replacing it with Bolton Carter stubbornness. They never deserved Georgie. She’s the best woman in the world, a title she shares with Keeley, in Jamie’s mind. “Mummy…” he whispers when she calls him the love of her life. He gives her a sad little smile, his heart aching for her as he looks up into her eyes [ those blue eyes, that she gave him. So unlike the brown of his father's. Hers are soft, loving, warm, home ].

He's equally surprised to learn that her brother ( his uncle, he supposes ) showed up at her door when Jamie was sitting on the bench at Wembley, waiting for Southgate to call his name, tell him to warm up - that he was going out there. For fucking England. His debut. The 26th of March, the date permanently on his right thigh. Even more surprising - he has cousins. Jamie assumes they're significantly younger than he is, given everything that had happened with Georgie. He doesn't even know his uncle's name - wouldn't know where to start looking even if he did want to meet him [ which he very much does not, thank you ]. Of course they knew that he was who he was - Georgie's boy, always Georgie's boy - because his name is Jamie fucking Tartt. It always comes back to that. No matter how hard Georgie tries to escape, her little boy will always carry that name, and, for those who knew Georgie Bolton, they could easily connect the dots to the footballer who looks to be about the age he'd be if Georgie Bolton kept James Tartt's baby. "They don't deserve you, Mummy. She never deserved you. And you deserved a fucking hug from your mum."

his words make her heart lurch, soft eyes watery but fixed on him, on the baby she'd willingly left behind her family for, on the boy that she'd tried her best to give the best start in life, on the man he'd become, a hero to hundreds of thousands of people. not bad for a boy who grew up with a single mum on a council estate, eh? " oh, yes my baby. we were'appy. you made me the 'appiest mum around, you know that? i got told that i shouldn't praise you for everything when you was a toddler, but 'ow could i not? you was the best from even then. " she thinks about that, about his greyhounds, his keeley, her simon -- her simon who she loved so much it sometimes made her ache. the only person she'd ever loved as much as she loved her son. " i'm just glad i could give you that. " her lip wobbles, but she tries to hold it back, resting her forehead against his for a moment or two before sitting back and sighing.