Distopia - One Quote, One Shot
Squeaking in 40 minutes before the end of my deadline, if you’re Pacific time ;) Thank you @notevenjokingfic and @balfeheughlywed My One Quote, One Shot!! Enjoy everyone!!!
Claire slapped the X-Ray onto the viewing screen, the snapping of film against glass sending a ripple of satisfaction through her. Her eyes studied the bilateral image of a skull, her husband’s skull, as her tablet loaded his last MRI report.
The acidic coffee in her mug swarmed her senses as her eyes searched, probed, for an answer. A tangible one. One besides prayer, patience and time. She’d had her fill with patience, and wanted to rage against the invisible bars of her well mannered, and understanding prison.
She’d lost her husband.
***
It had been a quiet Tuesday evening in her surgical suite. A dislocated shoulder and a minor hernia that had her and Joe playing “Rock, Paper, Scissors,” winner chooses last. It was during her surgery that Joe appeared with Dr. Weis, the hospital’s chief surgeon, to relieve her.
She knew to expect the worse and had often seen the worse scream through the trauma unit. But reading the accident report sheet—
- - -Vehicle roll over after head-on collision- - -Driver 1 DUA - - -Driver 2 non responsive- - - severe head trauma - - - 20 minute extradition from vehicle - - -
Claire read the words over and over, but her brain would not comprehend their meaning. She stood outside his trauma suite and saw the team prepping him for surgery, yet she could not reconcile the swollen, ravaged face as the one she’d kissed goodbye earlier that afternoon. He’d teased her when she made dinner reservations to celebrate their 4 month wedding anniversary.
“I dinna think four months is any more symbolic than 4 weeks,” Jamie quipped, “but I’ll eat cake with ye all the same.”
Four hours later, he entered surgery under the care of two men she respected and trusted—she could ask for no better—yet Claire felt desperate and agitated, her hope and faith a mere whisper in her mind.
24 hours after that, her world began to unwind.
***
It seemed he couldn’t avoid a complication. Infection, a punctured lung, burst spleen…
“It will all heal, Claire.”
Joe’s mantra played over and over in her mind. She prayed it, whispered it in the dark corners of the doctor’s lounge where she reviewed his labs and tests.
On paper, Jamie’s body was slowly mending, his vitals showing steady improvement, but Claire was restless as the days passed. And then, finally, his eye lids fluttered, and Claire felt a breath shudder against her ribs in relief. She smacked the call button to the nurses' station before her hands were on him, gently tracing the contours of his cheek.
“Jamie?” She sobbed. His face creased in the effort to flutter his lids again, his mouth pulling into a full Scottish grimace. “Aye,” he rasped. “God, I’m thirsty.”
Tears streamed down Claire’s face as she pushed his curls back from his brow. An impatient Scottish sound emitted from him, and she chuckled as she picked up her own cup of ice chips.
“Here then…small spoonfuls…” a smile broke across her face, as she saw his tongue move distastefully along his lip. With his lips less parched, he turned his eyes to her, his expression soft, confused, and wondrous.
“You were in a car accident, Jamie,” Claire explained. “You’ve been unconscious for three days.” The crease between his brows deepened as she spoke. When she swept her fingers along his jaw, he gasped and Claire jerked her hand away, startled. Claire watched as words crept to the edge of his lips, nearly spilling from his mouth before his teeth stopped them, a storm of emotions crossing his face in silence.
“Do you remember anything about the accident?”
“Just…light. And then pain.” He grimaced again before he pushed her spoon and ice chips away.
“And how’s your pain now?”
“I’ll bide. Can I see my sister and my Da? They must be driving ye—”
“What?” Claire whispered. She cursed her glass face as her lip trembled and Jamie’s expression turned from sleepy to alarmed. “Och, It’s no that I mind ye—”
“Did—” Claire felt her tongue was too large for her mouth as she stared back at him. “Did you just ask for your father, Jamie?”
“I did, and I’d appreciate ye not making me feel odd for it,” Jamie grumbled, his mood quickly becoming more agitated.
Claire’s face crumpled as she processed Jamie’s words, and then his painful cringe. “Ack, my head…”
“Mr. Fraser! I’m so glad to see you awake,” Joe greeted from the door, his face beaming. “It’s been hard to keep Claire away from you.”
A blush crept up Jamie’s cheeks that made Claire’s blood run cold.
“I can tell the lass has been attentive, but…”
“Lass?” Joe deadpanned, his eyes cutting to Claire as realization washed over her.
“Jamie,” Joe asked quietly, approaching the bed now and motioning for Claire to step back. The motion was unnecessary. Claire was already off the bed, holding her arms against her body. “You don’t recognize Claire?”
“Nay, but I fear I should,” Jamie croaked, his body trembling as his eyes locked on Claire. Joe nodded and reached into the hospital nightstand. He held in front of Jamie a simple platinum band and placed it into his good hand.
“Your left hand surprisingly was unharmed. We removed this from you to keep it safe.”
“It’s mine?” Jamie asked softly.
“Yes,” Joe answered. “It’s your wedding band. Claire’s your wife.”
***
Claire ‘s time as a doctor exposed her to many emotional outcries from patients, but she was not prepared for Jamie’s rejection. Upon hearing Joe’s words, Jamie’s eyes locked upon her and immediately began measuring. She felt naked before his gaze as his eyes scanned her from the tips of toes to the ends of her curls, and then…doubt. Doubt was all she could see beaming from his eyes and the weight of it crushed her.
Jamie’s doubt morphed into trembling sobs as Joe gently explained it was actually 2017, not 2015, but that this type of lapse was very common after head trauma. Claire also knew the reassuring language, but could not focus just then on reassurances. When her phone pinged, she stood up suddenly, drawing both men’s eyes to her.
“Jenny’s in the waiting room. I’ll bring her in.” Claire turned to leave, a murmured “Thank Christ” reaching her ears before she started toward her sister-in-law.
Jenny’s face paled when she saw Claire’s face.
“He’s all right,” Claire reassured, squeezing her hands.
“I’d never know that by the look of ye,” Jenny murmured. “How is he, really?”
“He has some….memory loss,” Claire muttered. “He doesn’t remember me, but…”
“He’s scrambled his heid that bad—”
“Jenny,” Claire whispered. “He’s asking about your father.”
Jenny placed a hand on Claire’s shoulder and grasped it tight, her other hand covering her mouth. “Oh, Claire. Oh, God.”
***
Claire sat on the tile outside her husband’s hospital room. He’d asked to speak with Jenny alone, so here she kept her vigil. She tucked her trembling knees to her forehead and leaned her aching chest against her thighs. It wasn’t fair, she thought. He shouldn’t have to live through this loss twice.
The first time, they lived through the loss of Brian Fraser together. This time, he would face it alone.
A shout shook her and made her teeth chatter. A keening sob sounded next, a rare sound she’d only heard once before, and Claire felt her insides liquify with the pain of it.
Murmurs echoed from the room behind her, Jenny’s soft voice crooning to him in Gaelic.
“I dinna want her!”
Claire froze. As suddenly as her tears had started earlier that afternoon, her eyes cleared as realization flooded her. He didn’t want her.
Claire sniffed and stretched her legs forwards, allowed herself to stretch over her knees. Gently, she gathered her feet beneath her and crossed the hall to the visitor’s bathroom. She splashed the tepid water across her cheeks and over her forehead before she physically shook herself before the bathroom mirror.
“Right,” Claire said to her reflection. “Food and Tea, Fraser. You have a long night ahead of you.”
He didn’t want her.
Claire scoffed to herself, righting her hair and patting her face dry. Of course, he didn’t want her.
He bloody needed her.
***
For two days, Jamie barely spoke to anyone, except the hospital staff and Jenny. Jenny’s visits involved more shouting than talking, so much so patients began closing their doors at 3PM in preparation for the incoming fight. It was impressive, even to Ian.
“This is more than his Da, Claire,” Ian spoke softly, watching Claire as she refilled his hospital water jug.
“I know it,” she replied. “He’s just…lost, I think. And frightened.”
“Jenny brought photos from your wedding today,” Ian said, and they both turned to watch the closed door of his hospital room as if it could explode at any moment.
“Well,” Claire muttered. “Silence is new, at least.”
Jamie had allowed her to be in his room during the day but stubbornly insisted each night he wanted to be alone. Claire, armed with a freshly packed weekend bag of clothes, stubbornly refused to leave the hospital and reminded him each night that she was sleeping across the hall if he changed his mind.
Tonight was no different.
“I dinna know ye, woman, and sitting there staring at me willna change it.”
Jenny had left an hour before, and Jamie had turned away from her when she reappeared in his room. Squaring up her shoulders, she eyed his back and the shivers she still saw under his hospital gown.
“I know that,” She said quietly. “But I won’t leave, Jamie. I—”
“Even if I told ye to leave me?” Jamie huffed. “Even if seeing your face just reminds me of how broken I am? That there is a life I had that’s now lost, along with—” His eyes closed as his body shook. “Did ye even know him?”
Claire watched as Jamie turned onto his back, not looking at her, but not blocking her out either.
“Yes.” Jamie didn’t respond but his head turned towards her, so she continued.
“We spent two weekends a month at Lallybroch. He transplanted a rose bush from your mother’s garden for us to take home.”
“We were living together?” Jamie asked, incredulously.
“If what Jenny said is true I only knew ye about six months…”
“Yes everyone said we rushing, but not Brian,” Claire chuckled. “Brian, however, saw our disastrous flower bed and berated you for not digging it up —”
“—Because we didn’t have a working front door—” Jamie froze and Claire’s face lit up into a knowing smile. “Christ,” Jamie whispered, as his eyes cut to hers. “How…how can I remember that but nothing else, but not…”
Claire let out a laugh, as she brushed a tear from her eye. “I’m a doctor and I can’t explain it.” She wiped at her cheek, but her smile warmed him, even from where he sat.
“Dinna cry,” Jamie murmured, not unkindly. “Christ, I remembered a door, of all things…”
“You remembered an argument,” Claire corrected. “And you’ll keep remembering. Just be patient with it.” Looking down at her hands, braced them together for courage. “Have I earned the right to stay, then?”
“I didna mean to be unkind, Claire,” Jamie muttered. “Aye. I’d like ye to stay.”
Jamie fell silent and turned on his side. Claire pulled a blanket around her shoulders as she sat back in the visitor’s chair.
“Did you like him?” He asked softly, as she dimmed the lights.
“Oh yes,” she answered. “I loved Brian very much.”
***
The next few days showed the typical signs of healing that Claire had learned to expect from her husband: stubborn and vile crankiness. If Claire joyous for her presence finally being accepted, Jamie was showing her the price she’d pay for it.
“Is there nothing in this hospital but weak broth and jello?” Jamie grumbled. “I canna even get full off this piss.”
“You can’t get full because you keep throwing up breakfast,” Claire muttered as her hands opened the seven cracker packets he insisted on for his weak broth.
“Ye try to keep down hospital eggs that are soppier than a bog.”
Claire rolled her eyes but pushed the bowl in front of him. His mood didn’t improve either as the day went on. His bones ached, his skin itched, and he just about bowled over a nurse who insisted he uses the walker to traverse from the bed to the bathroom.
When the sun settled, Claire thought his mood may have improved when he asked her to play cards. Until he asked to play Crazy Eights.
“No.” Claire deadpanned.
“What? Why?”
“Because every time we play Crazy Eights I’m double fisting 40 cards while you have 5,” Claire answered. “How about Rummy?”
“Bah, that’s a terrible—No!” Jamie sat up in bed, trying to make his body as menacing as he could to the nurse walking in with his dinner tray. Broth again, this time with apple sauce.
“Ye can take that brackish water right back to your prison kitchen and get me some proper bread and meat!”Jamie yelled. The nurse, a waif-like creature called Mary, startled at his tone, her jaw flapping as she looked between Jamie and Claire.
“You can leave it, Mary, thank you,” Claire responded.
“Ye will NOT leave it, and I’ll thank ye to no’ contradict me,” Jamie growled at Claire. Claire watched as Mary escaped, closing their hospital room door behind her. Claire grabbed the tray and began opening his crackers. “Jamie, I know it’s been a hard day but—”
As Claire moved the wheeling tray over his lap Jamie forcibly slapped it away, spilling the contents onto Claire and the floor.
“What the hell, Jamie!” Claire hissed, as she pulled hot steaming shirt away from her skin. “You could have burned me!”
“I’m tired of no one considering what I want, damn it! If I’m ever getting out of this hospital I need real food, not this processed bairn food fit for invalids!” Jamie shouted.
“All I’ve done is listen to you, damn it!” Claire yelled back. “Ever since you nearly killed yourself I’ve done nothing but try to keep you alive, despite you screaming at me!”
“I didna ask ye to, did I? I told ye to leave me, no? And I canna see why ye bothered to save my life if it’s only to starve me to death—unless ye enjoy watching it!”
This was altogether too much.
“Bloody ingrate!”
“Shrew!”
“You fucking bastard!!” Claire bellowed at him as she slammed his hospital door behind her.
Claire turned to see the hospital staff, and a stunned Ian and Jenny looking back at her.
“Feeling better, is he?” Jenny asked, a smirk lighting her face.
Claire took a breath. “Why, yes actually. He is.”
***
Later that evening, Claire awoke in the visitor chair when a soft hissing noise penetrated her sleep.
“Claire,” Jamie whispered again. “Are ye awake?”
“I am now…” Claire murmured, blinking several times into the darkness. “Are you all right? Are you in pain?”
“Nah. Will ye come here?”
Claire stood and wobbled toward his hospital bed, taking a seat on the edge of his mattress. When he moved over to make room for her, she lifted her legs onto the bed and turned on her side to look at him. “Whatisiit,” she murmured into his pillow.
“I dreamt of ye.”
“Oh. What of?”
“Well, to start…” Jamie muttered. “After Jenny and Ian left, I remembered…something. Another time ye called me a…erm, fucking bastard.”
If Claire was grateful for the darkness just then, but couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped her. “Oooh. Is that so?”
“Mmhmm. I believe…if I remember it right, I’d accused ye of flirting with some lad who got handsy with ye…”
“We were at a nightclub for Geillis’s birthday, against our will, mind you,” Claire murmured. “But you were pretty tipsy…”
“As were you, I think…”
“Uh-huh. But you got…angry.” Claire paused. “I think the term you said was ‘rut.’ If I planned to ‘rut’ with the lad, and if so you’d take yourself home.”
“Ah.” To his credit, he bowed his head, quite similarly to how he had two years ago. “So ye put me in my place, then.”
“Too right, I did.”
“But I went after ye?” Jamie whispered back, and Claire gasped as she felt his hand grip hers for the first time in a week.
“You did.”
He nodded, and brought her hand up to his lips, placing a soft kiss against her palm. “I think I dreamt what came next. My groveling…and my cherishing of ye. I feel like a right ass for making ye call me that again, but…”
“But what?” Claire slid closer so she could feel the heat coming from his chest.
“But, I’d like verra much to kiss you, if you’ll allow it.”
Claire grinned and felt her heart do a summersault.
“I’ll allow it,” she whispered and pressed her lips to his in the dark.
316 notes
·
View notes