#I CANNAE BELIEVE I FORGOT HES MISSING A HAND

[sushiboll]

love love love your merman joseph design. tho i was also thinking, maybe his tail could be the same olive green as his tank top when he's young, and as he ages it becomes more like his old self's khaki brown attire like as if his scales faded with age.

also funny how he has both hands. imagine if his left hand was replaced by a trident lol

Aaaaaa lmao ur so right

[atombonniebaby]

Love in the Crosshairs: Just the Thing I need

Some notes!

(Love in the Crosshairs is my Nate and MacCready series 🙌 Part one begins Vanilla blends into SS2's storyline and jumps between Nate and Mac's POV)

(Note on the title: When Jake did his "Why it's an ASAM, just the thing I need!" I was fully invested in Sim Settlements 2 🤣)

Now that I have finally complete SS2, I know exactly how this whole thang plays out 💪🏻 I got 4 chapters for ya! (and then some...but those ain't in order yet 🤣)

----

Relationships: Nate & MacCready (father-son dynamic🙌), Nate/Jake Evans (SS2) MacCready/Sturges

Chapter 1: War Never Changes.

(I've posted this prologue before...but I have more chapters!)

Sanctuary Hills October 23, 2077.

Deep red leaves rustled in the crisp autumn air as the sun began to creep up over the hillside, casting a murky haze over the serene show of contemporary suburban living, America's "Homes of the Future." The residents of Sanctuary Hills lived in blissful ignorance as the world held its breath to the ever-present threat of Nuclear Devastation. Amidst the suburban sprawl, the morning sun warmed the cheeks of Nathanial Alasdair Watt, Nate to his nearest and dearest.

Nate leaned over a dusty blue cot, his eyes not quite believing that the soft and squishy bundle snoring away was his son. Months old already, how long would it be before he would be chasing after him around the cul-de-sac? With a lingering glance over Shaun, Nate slipped out of his room and stepped into the hallway, closing the door softly behind him. The house was quiet, and Nate's footsteps echoed in the empty hall, leading him to the kitchen.

"Ah, Master Nate! Good morning, sir!” Codsworth chirped, his eye stalks flitting in greeting. "Your coffee. 173.5 degrees Fahrenheit. Brewed to perfection!"

"Ah'll take yer word for it," Nate yawned, a fond smile spreading across his face as he reached for the steaming mug of coffee.

"Ah, of course, my apologies, Sir. 78.61 degrees Celcius!"

Nate snorted. "I flunked maths, son. Just say it's hot."

Codsworth let out a chuckle. "Ah, I forgot, the young miss is the brains of the operation."

"Aye, that she is. But she'll no be without a proper feedin'. Could you go rouse her for me?" Nate asked.

"Of course, Sir! Right away!" Codsworth trilled, floating away towards El's room.

"Good luck wi' that," Nate muttered, shaking his head. El liked her sleep, that one.

Nate chuckled, running a hand over his head, and frowned at the resistance. Big speech tonight. He could hardly rock up looking a scruffy mess, could he? With a sigh, he set his mug down and stretched out his back on the way to the bathroom.

"Lemme Sleep, Codsworth..."El's voice drifted through her door.

Ah, to be 19 again. Nate shook his head, smirking to himself as he turned to the closed-over bathroom door, a wide smile pulling in his cheeks when Nora's sweet voice filtered through, Shaun's favorite lullaby on her tongue. Nate would never tire of it or how her voice sent shivers down his spine.

"You're up early. How's my little man?" she asked as he stepped through the door. "I'm assuming you've been in there five times already?"

Nora, even under those horrid fluorescent bulbs, looked stunning. He caught her eye in the mirror she was brushing her hair in and gave her a wink. Nate took a few steps toward her and wrapped his arms around her waist, his lips brushing her neck. She hummed and leaned back into his embrace.

"What can I say, doll? Just like his mother, I cannae believe he's mine," Nate murmured, burying his face in her soft, icy-brown hair. "I keep thinkin' somebody's gonna pinch me, and I'll wake up from this dream."

Nora twisted in his arms, her green eyes sparkling. "You're a wonderful father, Nate. You shouldn't doubt yourself!"

"I hope so," Nate said, his ears growing hot. Nora knew him too well, and his bashful side never could stand up to her praise.

"I think Beth would agree with me. I mean, you practically raised that girl!"

Nate ducked his head and pressed a kiss to her nose. "She dotes on you, ye ken? She won't admit it, but she does."

"I like her too. I'm glad she's here. Now, care to explain why you interrupted my morning ritual?" Nora teased.

"I need some pamperin'," he raised his eyebrows. "Cannae hae this 'decorated war hero' looking like common street riff-raff, now can we?"

"Hmm," Nora smirked. "I dunno, that rugged Viking look is growing on me, Nathanial."

"Ooh, using my full name, eh?" he teased. "Am I in trouble, then, Mrs Watt?"

"You're always trouble, Nathanial Watt," Nora giggled.

"Tell the truth, doll. That's the real reason you married me, wasn't it?" Nate smirked. "That and the accent, aye?"

She rolled her eyes and gave him a playful shove away, returning to the mirror. Nate's grin lingered, his hands sliding to her waist. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head and rested his chin upon it, gazing at her reflection. She met his eyes, a warmth and tenderness reflected at him.

"I love you, lass," he murmured against her hair, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "More than I can say."

Nora didn't speak, only leaned back, melting against him, a familiar gesture that spoke volumes. Nate's arms tightened, and he closed his eyes, wishing they could stay like that forever.

"Go get your trimmer; I'll at least neaten you up a little," Nora said, her voice thick. "Then, I'll see about breakfast."

Nate pressed one last kiss to her head and drew a sharp breath. "Yes, ma'am."

"—war never changes,” Nate sighed, the steamy air heavy with the weight of his speech.

“You're gonna knock 'em dead at the Veteran's Hall tonight, hon,” Nora purred, her fingers massaging the knots from his shoulders.

"Ye think?" Nate relaxed against her touch, letting his eyes flutter shut.

"Absolutely. Now get ready and stop hogging the mirror..."

"Right," Nate snorted. He stepped away and let Nora take his place. "You might want to fix the buttons on your blouse, love."

He couldn't help a small smirk tugging on his lips as she re-buttoned her blouse, not quite meeting his gaze.

"Wipe that smug look off your face, Mr. Watt! You're the reason I never get anything done around here!" Nora teased.

Nate couldn't help bursting out laughing. "Why dae ye think I bought Codsworth?"

"Out!" Nora laughed, pushing him towards the door.

"Love ye too, darlin'." Nate gave her a mock salute and stumbled out of the bathroom.

"Miss Elspeth, breakfast was served thirty minutes ago!" Codsworth's muffled voice met him through the opposing door.

"Codsy! Bugger off!...and 'ave told ye… it's Beth!" came El's equally muffled reply.

"My, my. For such a brilliant young mind, Miss Beth, your language leaves much to be desired."

"Get tae fuck, or I'll turn ye into a toaster!" El spat back, a bit louder this time.

"By God! I don't believe General Atomics programmed me with enough patience for this!" Codsworth sighed.

"I'll handle this." Nate interrupted, opening the door.

"Good luck, that child's got the mouth of a drunkard."

"I'm weeks away from twenty ye daft bucket o' bolts!" El retorted.

Codsworth sighed, bobbing past him a little less chipper than before. Poor bugger.

Nate chuckled and shook his head. Wearing that damn onesie, she was akin to an overgrown toddler in a babygro. El glared at him, her hazel eyes flashing with a fire that reflected his own, her cheeks flushed, auburn hair still a tangled mess, reminding him exactly why he opted for a smooth dome.

"Arse. Up. Now. Or I promise you I'll cancel that comic subscription I already reluctantly pay for."

El's eyes narrowed, a defiant glint remaining, a slight smirk curving her lips. "Ye wouldnae dare."

"Try me," Nate raised a brow and folded his arms. "And to rub it in, I'll replace it with one about all the latest fashion trends, braw big frilly skirts and whatnot..."

"Fine. Ye win." El rolled her eyes, sauntering past him.

"Smart move," Nate smirked.

"Bite me!" El snapped, stomping into the now vacant bathroom.

Nate chuckled, shaking his head, and approached the kitchen, his stomach growling in anticipation.

"Breakfast is served sir," Codsworth set down a plate of eggs and toast.

"Thanks. And if ye need the afternoon off to recharge after the morning ye've had, you take it!" Nate smirked.

"A good show of humor, sir, but with a steady supply of Mr. Handy fuel, I am proud to serve!" Codsworth chirped.

"Attaboy."

"Your thoughts?" Nora's voice drifted over him, snapping his attention back to the present.

Nate blinked, glancing at his wife. She was studying him, her brows knitted. Damn. "I'm worried about her, doll. She won't admit it, but she's been having trouble sleeping again. I cannae remember the last time I saw her without dark circles under her eyes."

"She's just stressed. It's been a big year for her. Why don't you take her away for a few days? It's been a while since you two had time together," Nora suggested. "You could take a little road trip or something?"

"Aye, I'd been considering it, but I can hardly leave you with the wee one, can I?"

"I've got Codsworth to help. And besides, Shaun's not exactly a handful." Nora grinned, nudging him. "Take her. Trust me, she needs it."

Nate chewed his lip, his brows furrowed. Maybe she had a point. El had always loved his impromptu adventures.

"Okay, I'll talk to her about it—"

"Talk to me about what?" El asked, walking into the living room, her frown deepening as she looked between them. "I'm sorry! I know I've been—"

"No, stop right there! " Nate shushed her. "Ye don't go apologizing...I know you've been overloaded lately with all your projects."

El shrugged, dropping onto the couch beside him, her eyes fixed on the TV. "Yeah, I guess. It's just a lot, and I—"

"Deserve a break? Me and Nora reckon you've earned one," Nate grinned, nudging her. "So, how about we take off in a day or two? It's been a while since we've done a drive together, just you and me?"

"Wait, you're serious?" El stared at him, a smile breaking across her face, but her frown returned as she turned to Nora. "You're okay with that?"

"Are you kidding? Some peace and quiet, hell yeah, I'm okay with that," Nora barked a laugh. "And Codsworth's here to help, so I'll be fine."

"I like her, Nate. Can we keep her?" El smirked.

Nate's laughter bubbled, shaking his head. "Aye, she's a keeper, alright."

Nora gave them a fond smile, rising from the couch."Alright, you two, I'm going to help Codsworth tidy up, give you time to plan."

"Thanks, love," Nate's fingers curled hers as she pulled away, before turning his attention back to El.

"So, short-stop, any votes on where ye want tae go?"

"Laurey, Virginia—"

"The Caverns, again, lass?" Nate's eyebrow quirked.

"Come on, it's been months since we went to D.C. We could do a day trip to Laurey and then spend the rest of our time exploring the Capital!"

"Fine, but that damn mole costume is stayin' put!" Nate chuckled.

"She looked adorable in that thing. Never know, maybe she'll catch someone's eye!" Nora's laughter floated over them from the kitchen, and Nate grinned.

El blushed, her hand rubbing against the back of her head sheepishly. "I'll stick to studying, ta—"

"Quite right. I don't think there'd be many nerdy, bookworm Spelunkers out there that could put up with your pish!" He couldn't resist.

El's nose wrinkled, and her eyes narrowed. "Thanks for the vote of confidence—jackass."

Nate snorted and leaned back, his arms draped over the back of the couch, tuning into the TV.

The same usual shite.

A knocking came to the door, and Nora sighed. "It's probably that salesman. He's been trying all morning, insisting he talks to you."

"Oh, great." Nate rolled his eyes and lurched out of the sofa.

An all-smiles fella in a trenchcoat greeted him when he opened the door, stepping forward. "Good morning! Vault-Tec calling!"

"Sup, chief," he deadpanned, leaning against the doorframe.

"You can't begin to know how happy I am to finally speak with you. I've been trying for days. It's a matter of utmost urgency, I assure you," the rep explained.

Nate frowned—something about the guy's tone made him nervous.

"Alright, son, I'm here now."

"So you are, so you are,' the rep chuckled. "I'm here today to tell you that because of your family's service to our country, you have been pre-selected for entrance into the local Vault. Vault 111. I just need to verify some information. That's all! Don't want there to be any hold ups, in the unforeseen event of *ahem*...total atomic annihilation."

"But there's room for my entire family, right?"

"Of course. Of course! Minus your robot, naturally."

"Oi, Codsworth is family!" El retorted, appearing at his side, her eyes narrowed. "He's a wee gem! We can't just leave him!"

Nate's hand fell upon his sister's shoulder, squeezing it. "General Atomics promised Codsworth could survive anything, even a nuclear blast," he reminded her, her sentiment mirrored in his heart. "Go. I've got it from here."

El nodded, a defiant glint remaining in her eyes, but she stepped aside.

Nate glanced at the rep, his unease growing."All right, let's have it."

"Splendid, splendid. Let's get to it. Just need you to fill out this paperwork, and we're all done. Won't take but a moment."

The rep pulled a clipboard out of his briefcase and held it out towards him.

Nate frowned, his jaw tense, glancing down at the stack of papers. He took the clipboard and scanned the pages, his frown deepening.

"What makes me 'S.P.E.C.I.A.L?' That's a bit on the nose, is it no? And this whole damn thing seems a wee bit excessive, no offense, son."

"None taken! It's simply a matter of determining what roles you may be able to undertake in a new life underground!"

"Well, lucky for us, we have a certified vault technician in our fold. My sister just finished her Masters at C.I.T. Did a whole project around Vault safety and maintenance," Nate couldn't help the proud smile creeping into his cheeks.

"Masters? At C.I.T?" the rep's eyebrows shot up. "My, my, that's impressive."

"Aye, she got the brains of the family. I clearly got the looks," Nate joked, handing the clipboard back to the rep. "Think that's everything, chief."

"Wonderful! That's..." he skimmed over the documents, smiling. "Yes, indeed, that is everything... just gonna walk this over to the Vault! Congratulations on being prepared for the future!"

"Aye, thanks..." Nate forced a smile, his jaw still tense. "Now, if you'll excuse us, I have a wee one who needs a bit of a feed."

"Of course, have a great day, sir, ma'am!" The Vault-Tec rep tipped his hat and strolled off, the tension in the man's shoulders not lost on him.

He watched the rep go, his instincts prickling as he stepped back inside."Something aboot that didn't sit right, did it, El?"

"I didn't like it, Nattie. You don't think he's doing this because—"

"Elspeth, don't get him started," Nora interrupted, her voice strained. "It's just a precaution, that's all."

Nate swallowed his throat tight. "Maybe ye're right, doll, but just in case, we should double-check the go bags."

Shaun's wails rang through the house. Cutting through his words, Codsworth followed.

"Master Nate. Shaun has been changed, but he absolutely refuses to calm down. I think he needs some of that "paternal affection" you seem to be so good at."

"I've got 'im." Nate smiled and strode down the hall, his unease lingering. Nora's footfalls followed.

"Right, ye wee gremlin," Nate teased, sweeping a finger over Shaun's cheek. Shaun's cries grew fainter, his teary gaze fixed on Nate.

"Spin the mobile a bit. He loves that," Nora cooed, stepping up beside him.

Nate gave the mobile a gentle spin. Shaun's gaze drifted to the spinning rockets, green eyes wide, and his cries now soft whimpers. Nora brushed Nate's arm with her hand.

"Maybe we should go out later, a walk in the park?"

"And miss the World Series on TV? Not going to happen." Nate smirked. "But tomorrow, I'm all yours! I promise."

"I'll hold you to—"

"Sir? Mum? You should come and see this!" Codsworth's urgent voice drifted over them.

Nate frowned, exchanging a glance with Nora. "Codsworth?"

"I've got Shaun," Nora assured him, scooping the baby up.

Nate hurried out of the nursery, a knot forming in his gut, his blood rushing. "Codsworth? What is it, son?"

"Sir... the news..."

El was perched on the couch, her knuckles white around her backpack, its contents organized on the coffee table. "They actually did it."

"Did what, lass?" Nate frowned, sitting beside her.

“—followed by... yes, followed by flashes. Blinding flashes. Sounds of explosions..." the news anchor caught his attention. "We're... we're trying to get confirmation…But we seem to have lost contact with our affiliate stations."

"What? What is he saying?" Nora's voice drifted over them. "…Oh no.”

“...We do have... coming in... confirmed reports. I repeat, confirmed reports of nuclear detonations in New York and Pennsylvania…My God.”

The screen crackled, and the signal was lost. Nate's gaze fixed on the 'Please Stand By' screen. His mouth ran dry, a cold sweat prickling across his forehead.

"We have to get to the Vault. Now! Get all that back in the bag. I'll grab the rest." Nate blurted, his heart pounding against his ribs.

"Nattie...I'm scared."

"We're goin' tae be fine, El. We've prepared for this...You two wait for me outside!" Nate instructed, racing into their bedroom.

He yanked open the closet, his hands trembling, hauling out his and Nora's packs, followed by Shaun's. He slung them over his shoulder and hurried through the house for the front door—stopping on the threshold, glancing over his shoulder at Codsworth.

The Mr. Handy's eye stalks flitted over him, and he glided forward. "Goodbye, sir. May I say what an honor it has been to serve you and your family!"

"Ye've done us proud, son...maybe we could—"

"Now, don't you worry about me, sir! You have your family to think about. Go on."

Nate nodded, a lump forming in his throat. "Thank you, Codsworth..."

"He'll be alright, won't he?" El's voice pulled his attention.

He stepped onto the sidewalk and grabbed his sister's hand. "He'll be fine. Now c'mon, we gotta move!"

They raced down the road, Nora ahead of him, Shaun cradled against her chest. Nate swallowed hard, his hand tightening around El's. His mind raced. Vault-Tec. The rep—he knew something was up. That bastard knew this was coming!

"Nattie?" El tugged his arm, slowing.

"We're almost there, lass. Keep moving! Come on, we're nearly there—"

"We're on the list!" Nora's frantic voice greeted them, and Nate frowned as that Vault-Tec rep darted by them.

A soldier blocked their way, checking over a clipboard."Infant... Adult male... Two adult females... OK, go ahead."

Nate's heart pounded. It was real. This was really happening. They climbed the hill and clambered onto the platform, his arms circling Nora and El.

"Almost there, we're gonna be alright. I love you, all of you." Nate murmured, his pulse throbbing in his ears.

"We love you too," Nora whispered, her gaze locked on his.

The sky lit up with blinding white light, and the ground shook beneath their feet. A deafening roar filled the air. Nate's eyes widened as a mushroom cloud grew colossal in the sky. The blast waves thunder towards them, and El buried her face against his chest. He closed his eyes, bracing for impact.

"Send it down now!" a desperate voice shouted.

An orchestra of "Oh gods" and terrorized screams flooded his ears. The platform shuddered beneath them. His arms held tighter.

The blast crossed over them. The screams echoed, his breaths shortening, the pressure around his ribcage suffocating.

He held Nora, his lips pressed to her head, praying she couldn't hear his racing heartbeat.

The light faded, and the shockwave died, his ears still ringing.

The platform shuddered to a halt.

His eyes met Nora's, tears streaming down her face.

They had made it.

"Everyone, please step off the elevator and proceed up the stairs in an orderly fashion," the Vault-Tec security guard that greeted them instructed.

El clung to him as Nate made a move to follow the others, her breaths ragged and short. He glanced at Nora, Shaun sleeping soundly in her arms.

"She'll be okay. We're right behind ye," Nate murmured. "We just need a minute."

Nora nodded, her hand resting on his shoulder. "We won't be far. I'll go find out what's what."

"Be right with ye," Nate murmured, kneeling to meet El's gaze. "Hey, hey, look at me, lass. Look at me. Deep breaths. In and out. Like we practiced."

El's eyes flicked up to his, wide and fearful. She bit her lip, nodding. Her next shaky intake of breath was longer.

"Good, lass. Again. In and out."

She followed his lead, and soon enough, El's breaths steadied as her panic subsided, her grip on his loosening.

"You're a natural," Nate grinned, easing himself up.

El didn't respond and instead stood closer. His arm circled her, guiding them toward the vast cog-shaped doorway that loomed above them. Nate's heart beat faster. This was home now, for better or worse.

"It's impressive, eh? No wonder ye wouldny pipe doon about these Vaults!" Nate quipped.

El glanced at him, a faint smirk pulling in her cheeks. Nate squeezed her shoulder, their footsteps ringing as they climbed the metal stairs.

His eyes found Nora as they crossed the metal walkway. An orderly queue had formed behind her as she was collecting something up ahead.

Nora handed him a sealed bag and another for El. He eyed it, noting the '111' matching the jumpsuits some staff were wearing.

"What, do they no' come in a braw purple or maybe fluorescent green?"

El snorted at that, a wry smile curling her lips, and Nate's heart lifted a little. She was okay.

"Just follow the doctor here. He'll show you where to go," one of the scientists instructed.

"Lead the way, doc."

As Nora chatted with the doctor, El pulled away, her steps a little firmer, her gaze still far away.

Nate was drawn to the sudden bite in the air, a shiver running through him as he followed. People chatted, residents to Vault staff. Everyone seemed as edgy as he felt. They were led to a larger room filled with 'decontamination pods,' he was told as he was led towards one.

His attention pulled back to El, her belongings dropping to her feet. She stepped in front of them as one of the staff members attempted to collect them.

"I'm sorry, miss, but you cannot take your—"

Without a word, El unveiled a lanyard from around her neck and fixed them with a stern eye.

"You're a Vault-Tec intern? Very well, but be assured, vault-tec will not be held accountable if anything were to be damaged or stolen."

El nodded, her jaw set, and Nate couldn't help a smirk. Stubborn wee devil. Nate stripped to his boxers and tugged on his Vault suit, his skin prickling.

"Could ye's no have turned on the heatin'? It's colder than a polar bear's arse in here!" Nate grumbled.

El was already suited in her's when he looked up again, leaning against her pod, shoulders slumped, a blank expression set over her feature—still not back to herself yet.

"Can you hold him?" Nora asked, pulling his thoughts. Shaun curled up against her chest.

"Of course, love," Nate scooped him up, letting Nora get herself situated. He walked over to El, her fingers brushing Shaun's cheek, a weak smile curling her lips.

"Ye gonna be alright in there? I know how you get in tight spaces."

She held up her backpack, patting it fondly. Of course, she was always packed for every occasion.

"Right then, guess we'll see ye soon," Nate tried, giving her a reassuring smile.

"Okay, I can take him," Nora's hand rested on his arm, and Nate reluctantly handed Shaun over and planted a kiss against her cheek.

Nate climbed into his pod, and with a hiss, the lid descended, his breath misting the glass. His eyes locked onto Nora's, her gaze locked on him as her own pod closed, and she bounced Shaun in her arms.

"Just try to relax," the doctor reassured.

Nate nodded, pressing his hand against the glass. "Time for a whole new life."

"Resident secure. Occupant vitals: Normal," a robotic voice filled his ears.

A rush of cold flooded his pod. Nate's pulse spiked, his next breath shuddering.

"Procedure complete. In 5... 4..."

With every beat of the countdown, his vision whitened. Frost intertwined his eyelashes with every blink—everything faded.

Nate blinks away the frost that clings to his eyelashes, stretching his jaw to loosen the remainder of his beard and whiskers. It was a cold that hung as heavy as iron chains. Every breath stung his chest like swallowing broken glass as violent coughs wreck through him.

"...Critical failure in Cryogenic Array. All vault residents must vacate immediately," The computerized voice echoed through the intercom, and a hiss filled his ears.

As the pod door lifts away, Nate's still-thawing limbs do nothing to prevent him from stumbling forward. His knees crack against the slick steel floor, a haze of mist following him. He didn't dare look up, unwilling to face the truth that the nightmare was real. But there was no escaping the memories that assaulted every fiber of his being: Nora's please, Shaun's cries as they tear him from his mother's embrace. Nate's own screams—lost in the deafening Gunshot that silenced Nora and continued to echo as Shaun's heartbreaking wails faded away—the face that mets him and the words that followed:

At least we still have the backup.

"That scar-faced bastard! Why did he have tae—"

"...Critical failure in Cryogenic Array. All vault residents must vacate immediately,"

"Oh, shut up!" Nate yelled as he snapped his head back. "Can ye no see I'm havin' a moment, ye pushy cow!"

Blissful silence filled the chamber once more, and Nate breathed a sigh of relief. As if another entity had taken control of his body, he stood to his full height and ambled forward. His steps were clumsy, and fog engulfed the room as he moved toward Nora's pod. The faint glint of gold caught his eye. Her wedding band shined through the condensation. His fingers trailed over the icy glass.

Nora, his best friend, the woman he pledged his entire life to. Her rosy cheeks were now dusted blue, fear still painted in her expression. Her arms were so painfully absent—Shaun. He's just a baby, and they tore him out of her arms. Nate's knees buckled some, jolting him forward, and he braced himself, breaths coming out in rasps, his lungs constricting, the very walls closing in. His eyes opened over his wedding ring, a matching piece—he'd be dammed if he was leaving her's behind.

"C'mon! C'mon! There has tae be a release!" Nate barked, desperation bleeding into his brogue as he stepped back to take in the pod, reaching for the lever at its side.

His breath held as Nora's pod opened to him. Slowly, reverently, he slipped the ring off her finger, ignoring the spiderwebbing of frosted blood that now decorated her jumpsuit. 

"I'll find who did this, and I'll get Shaun back...I promise," Nate's tremblings slipped Nora's wedding band above his own, and pulled the level to reseal his wife. The door hissed shut, and the frost formed on Nora's pod window. Nate's tears froze on his face, and he stumbled back, his own thawing limbs failing him as he hit the vault floor. He lay there for what felt like an eternity, before finally gathering enough strength to pull himself together.

"Elspeth," he whispered, crawling to his sister's pod. Her features still frozen, that bloody pip-pad clutched between her fingers. Nate clenched his fists and breathed before his shaky hands grip the lever release to El's cryopod, and he is met with an immediate sharp, jolting buzz that has him staggering back.

"Malfunction in Cryo Pod manual release override." A robotic female voice announces over the intercom.

"No-no-no! C'mon! I need tae open this damn thing!" Nate pulls the handle harder. Again, the error noise frays his nerves, not releasing. "Come on!" He presses a palm to the frost-covered glass, feeling the cold sting on his hand. "El!" Tears stream down his cheeks, warm against the cold fog surrounding him. "No. This can't-" His forehead rests against the pod. He closes his eyes tightly and sobs. “Ye cannae do this! I just need tae get El!"

His mind falls back to the terminal those scientist-looking folks were working on when they were after Shaun, how they opened Nora's pod. Nate spins on his heels and sprints forward, almost pummeling into the console as he slides to a halt.

"Right, c'mon. Ye can do this, it's just a computer," Nate squints at the screen with a shaky breath,  gingers still stiff from his suspended animation, rattling the keys, jumping through the entries as quickly as his frozen digits allow.

*************** Welcome to ROBCO Industries (TM) Termlink ***************

Thank you for choosing Vault-Tec!

>Cryogenic Array: Offline. Premature termination resulting in system failure. Isolated manual and remote overrides detected. Controls disabled.

>Life Support: Offline. Premature termination resulting in system failure. Isolated manual and remote overrides detected. Controls disabled.

Pod Occupant Status

POD C1: Miss Watt

>Occupant status: Deceased. Cause of Death: Asphyxiation due to Life Support failure.

*****************************************************************************

It takes several moments for him to comprehend the words laid bare.

Every occupant record painted the same picture: Cause of Death: Asphyxiation.

"No," Nate sobbed, his fist slamming into the console. "No, she can't be, she can't—Elspeth!...” 

Nate collapses, his knees slamming on the steel, fingers clawing at the frost-covered ground, and a scream rips through him, a blood-curdling wail that echoes out in the empty chamber. Every cell in his body is alight, a sickening, bitter cold fire. His shoulders shake violently, and he balls his fists, pounding them to the floor until his knuckles are raw. He barely feels the biting pain as the fight seeps away, leaving him drained, tears frozen on his cheeks.

Nate doesn't move for a long moment—left alone with his thoughts and the steady Drip. Drip. Drip. of frost melting. His little sister is dead. They're both gone. It would be easy to submit to his grief, crumple over, and lose himself in the pain—but they have his son. He has to find Shaun, even if all he has left is a warped image of a man who ruined his world. A scar-faced bastard whom Nate committed to memory. His fingers curl around the chain of his dog tags, fidgeting the wedding bands between bloodied knuckles, the cold metal grounding him, and as Nate grits his teeth, steeling his heart, and sets his jaw, he stands.

A silent vow plays on his lips: For Shaun. For Nora. And for El. He would rain fire upon whoever took them from him, even if it meant tearing whatever world awaited him apart, one bullet at a time.

He vows it as he looks upon El's face. Russet frost-bitten curls drape across her forehead. A picture so peaceful she may as well be sleeping.

He vows it as his lips graze Nora's cheek before resealing the pod, committing his love's image to memory.

He vows it as his fingers trace Shaun's name, etched in ink within the tan line of his wedding band.

There had to be someone around, Vault Tec staff, maybe someone hid, someone survived. Anyone. Nate forced himself to move, and limped towards the exit. It was slow going, his muscles burning, and his joints ache.

"Hello?! Anyone?!" He stumbled through the door, retracing the steps they'd taken minutes before. Water dripped. Rusted metal. It made no sense. "Am I the only one left?”

Nate caught himself on the wall, the burning in his lungs catching his breath—the coughing that wrecked his body had him holding his chest like it was the only way to keep the air from escaping all together.

‘Just breath Nattie.’

"Oh God, Elspeth," he choked back a sob, falling against the wall, the metal cold on his face. "I can't—I cant--" He coughed again, the spasms sending him to his knees. He'd failed everyone, Nora, Elspeth, Shaun, everyone. Maybe if they'd stayed, got in the car and drove—maye, just maybe they'd have found somewhere safe, somewhere better than here.

He didn't know how long he sat there, the ringing in his ears so loud, his tears so thick he couldn't even see anymore. It took everything he had to pull himself up, and even longer to realize the door they'd passed through was sealed shut. Forcing him another way.

Movement caught in the corner of his eye, and Nate grabbed for the security baton, slowing pacing through the corridor. "Hello?!" He yelled, his voice echoing off the walls, bouncing back—something—a shadow, a rustle—moved, and Nate froze.

He had to dreaming, maybe the freeze box messed up his mind. A cockroach, bigger than a rat scuttled across the damp floor, it's wings pulsing as it seemed to size him up with equal suspicion. Nate backed away, his head pounding, his eyes darting between the insect and the door it was blocking.

"Why'd it have tae be giant beasties? Why couldnae it be something cute like a wee fluffy bunny rabbit?" Nate mutters, his brogue thickening. "Ye picked the wrong day tae piss me aff," he leveled his baton, and charged, his heart racing.

It was over fast, the bug smashed under his heel, a pained chirp the last sound it made. Nate shook the big entrails off his boot and pressed forward into the generator room. The bloody things hissed and zapped as he passed, one more giant roach lay dead, the electricity dancing around it, the smell of cooked meat met his nose.

His stomach churned, and he took a second to steady himself. No time for a weak stomach, not when survival was at stake. Two more met their end, and his eyes fell on a skeleton, a tattered Vault Tec jumpsuit still clinging to the bones. "How is this possible?"

The door to his left hissed open, two more roaches charging through, their mandibles clicking, their wings buzzing. Nate swung wildly, the baton denting the first, sending it reeling. The second, he caught with his hand, squeezing it's guts out until it stopped squirming.

"Still not cute," he muttered, catching his breath, his eyes searching. He had to keep moving, had to find a way out, find Shaun.

The office he came to next was met with a smile, a handgun, ammo, some smokes—no lighter. He loaded the gun and looted anything of use, but the next door was sealed. "This room looks important. El told me their doors seal up in emergencies... Only terminals can open them."

His eyes squinted over the terminal. 'welcome Overseer.' meeting his gaze. "Emergency exit, I guess that's what I'm after. Here goes nothin'."

Click. Clack. Click.

The door hissed open, and Nate stepped through, a deep sigh escaping his lips. "Come on then ye overgrown bugs, I'm ready for ye!" He cried, his fingers tight on the trigger, his heart pounding. Despite his stress. Despite this whole damm shit show. He made every shot.

His reward, was a sealed Vault door and more skeletons. One had a pip-boy, conveniently by the door controls. Nate strapped it on, relieved that someone seemed to work as intended as the device booted up, and after some trial and error, he finally managed to figure out how to activate the door open sequence.

Alarms blared and pistons hissed, Nate busied himself with looting the lockers and grabbing the handgun ammo he found lying around. When the Vault door finally rolled to a stop, he crossed the bridge and found himself standing in the lift back to the surface. "Welcome Home." disappearing as he was hoisted out of sight.

The earth above him split open, blinding light pouring down, Nate shielded his eyes and steadied himself. He was alive. That was what mattered now.

He took a moment to breathe, to process, his fingers finding Nora's ring still on his finger, his jaw set, his eyes blinking back the tears.

As the Sole Survivor of Vault 111, he has nothing left to lose and everything to fight for.

War Never Changes, and Nate was ready to wage it.

Elspeth Rae and Nathanial Alasdair Watt

[let-the-dream-begin]

In My Daughter’s Eyes Chapter 23: You Could Be

Chapter 22

Read on AO3

The rest of the week following Claire and Jamie’s second date passed rather hectically  (they had decided to refer to it as such, even though Faith was there for half of it). Jamie had left on Wednesday night around one o’clock in the morning, Claire having fallen asleep close to the end of the movie. She’d garbled something unintelligible when Michael killed Fredo, something that she’d translated for him later to have meant: “Fucking traitor.”

He’d let her sleep, and when Claire had chided him about it, told him he should have woken her so they could talk or something, he’d just shrugged and said:

“Ye looked so bloody peaceful, mo nighean donn. Drool on my shoulder and all.”

That earned him a swat to the arm.

“I mean it. Holding ye while ye slept, not a care in the world…was like Heaven on Earth.”

That earned him a very generous kiss.

After saying goodnight, Claire collapsed into bed happy as a clam, and then the chaos began. She opened her eyes to Faith standing right next to her in bed, a la the twins in The Shining, and she’d nearly jumped out of her skin. The girl had proceeded to crawl right into bed with Claire, whining in protest when Claire’s alarm started going off. Claire tried to hold her off as long as possible, but when Mrs. Lickett knocked on the door and they were still in bed, she knew they were in trouble. The poor woman had to pry Faith off of Claire just so she could get ready for work, and she screamed her little head off the whole time. For some reason, Faith did not want Mummy going to work today, and did not want to be left with poor Mrs. Lickett.

There was no rhyme or reason to when Faith got in these moods; she just decided some days that Mummy was not going to leave. And, of course, with Claire’s chosen profession, she did not have the option to oblige her. Perhaps that was for the best; Mrs. Lickett did say they couldn’t always indulge her. But God, if it wouldn’t get her fired, Claire would get right back into bed and hold her baby until she calmed down, and she might never leave again.

Still hearing Faith scream even through the front door and then her car door, Claire finally shed a few overwrought, panicked tears. She glanced tearily at her phone in her bag, thinking to call Jamie, then talked herself out of it.

He doesn’t need to hear every time you’re going crazy, Beauchamp.

She put the key in the ignition, then caught sight of Faith in the window, slamming her palms on the glass, both Mrs. Lickett and Angus trying to talk some sense into her. And then she couldn’t stop herself.

She opened his contact and pressed the call button, put the phone on speaker, and put it in a pocket in the door before pulling out of the driveway. As the phone rang, she sniffled and swallowed thickly, even though she knew that her voice would give her away immediately. It rang for a while, and Claire immediately felt dread in the pit of her stomach, thinking he must be asleep. The stables didn’t open until ten, and she had him over until one. 

Idiot.

Before she could panic-hang-up, it stopped ringing.

“Everything alright, Sassenach?”

“Oh,” she said stupidly, putting on her turn signal to get on the main road. “Hi, yes, everything is fine.”

“Are ye crying, Sassenach?” His voice was alert.

“No, I’m — I’m fine. I’m so sorry I woke you, I had you up so late — ”

“Forget that. I’m an early bird. What’s wrong?” It was gentle, soft, but insistent. He was not going to let her let this go.

Claire sighed. “Really, nothing is wrong. Not really. I’m just driving to work. And it’s already been…a day.”

“How’s that?” 

So gentle.

“Faith did not want me to leave this morning. She just gets like that sometimes, doesn’t want me to go, doesn’t want to do anything Mrs. Lickett has planned for the day. She was screaming her poor head off and she didn’t even want anything to do with Angus, at least while I was there. I didn’t even get a chance to eat anything and I’m already getting a headache.” She chuckled nervously, wiping her eyes with one hand, keeping one on the wheel. “Sorry…I’m rambling.”

“Dinna be sorry, Claire. I’m sorry ye had a rough morning. And I’m sorry fer the wee lass. She misses ye when ye’re gone sometimes, eh?”

“Yeah…” she sighed sadly. “I suppose she does. She used to do it a lot more; there would be a meltdown every day I left the house. Every time I think she’s outgrown it, it comes back full force. And I just feel…awful just…leaving her like that. And I can’t call off for something that isn’t an emergency. I just can’t. And I…”

“Claire.”

She paused, having a feeling he was about to say something.

“Ye’re a good mam, Claire.”

She bit down on her lip fiercely, nearly losing sight of the road as her eyes watered. 

“I ken ye dinna feel that way when ye have to leave her every day, and I canna imagine how that feels. But ye’re no’ the only mam that works, and it doesna matter that ye’re a single parent, either.”

Claire sniffled again, haphazardly wiping her eyes. “I just…I know that I do so much for her. I do know that. But on days like today…it just feels like I’ll never be enough, like I’ll never be able to give her everything she needs.”

“Christ, Sassenach, ye’re more than enough. Ye have to know that. Ye have to work to give her those things she needs. Ye have to know that, too. Ye’re doing the best ye can, and it’s great. Ye’re a good mother.”

Claire sniffled again, quite loudly, and she almost laughed at how gross she must have sounded on his end. “Thank you, Jamie. I don’t even know what to say.”

“Nothing at all is just fine.”

She pulled into the employee parking lot of the hospital, and she sighed heavily. “I’m…I’m sorry again to have woken you up like this — ”

“No apologies, mo nighean donn — ”

“And I’m sorry I have to go so soon; I’m already running late and I’m sure I’m going to be reamed — ”

“No need to explain yerself. Hang up the phone, get yerself calmed down, and get in there and save some lives. Aye?”

Claire laughed as she pulled into her spot. “Nothing like a pep-talk from coach Fraser to get me in the zone.”

He laughed as well. “Glad to hear it.”

Claire took the key out of the ignition and picked up her phone. “Thank you again, Jamie. Really. This was…more helpful than I can even explain.”

“No explanation needed. I get it. I mean I don’t get it-get it. But I…I understand.”

“Right.” She smiled fondly at his carefulness to not even imply that he really knew what it was like while still ensuring her that he understood her. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Aye. Let me know if she’s alright when ye go home. I hope work isna too rough on ye today.”

“I will. Thanks. Goodbye, Jamie.”

“G’bye, mo ghraidh.”

She hung up and held her phone to her chest for a moment, closing her eyes and breathing deeply.

You’re fine, Beauchamp.

You’re a good mum, and a good doctor.

It was hard to believe even as she said it to herself, but she was at least able to get out of the car, checking how much of a wreck she was briefly in the rear-view mirror.

The day was just as hectic as it would be on an already bad day, and Claire was dead on her feet by the time she got to the break room, having not even had time for the shitty coffee it had to offer when she’d arrived. She collapsed in the chair nearest the door, pressing her eyes into her hand and watching the colors and shapes dance around in her head for a moment.

“Earth to Lady Jane.”

She inhaled sharply and picked her head up, finding Joe standing by the counter.

“Don’t fall asleep on me without getting a load of this.”

“What…?” She reluctantly heaved herself out of her chair and trudged toward the counter where Joe was smirking at a brown paper bag and a styrofoam coffee cup that did not belong to the hospital.

“What’s this…?” Claire said.

“Been here all morning. Louise said a very attractive redhead dropped it off for Doctor Beauchamp.”

Claire felt her face melt into the most ridiculously liquid smile. “He did not…”

She opened the bag to find a napkin sitting on top with writing scrawled in black pen:

Sassenach,

Got ye a BEC (that’s bacon egg and cheese) since you didn’t have breakfast. Plain bagel since I don’t know your preference (remind me to ask you that). Figured you forgot to pack lunch as well, so I got you a deli sandwich I thought you’d like. That coffee reheated is still better than the shite in your break room, I promise ye that. Good deli; I’m good friends with the owner. Great guy. Have to take you someday.

Hope this helps,

JAMMF

Claire shook her head in disbelief, handing Joe the napkin to read.

“Damn,” he said. “That man is too much.”

Claire pulled out her BEC and unwrapped it, melting into a nearby chair as she ate. Joe popped her coffee into the microwave for her and sat down next to her.

“Too much indeed,” Claire garbled, mouth full of food. “He’s too good to be true.”

“But it’s true, Lady Jane.” He patted her knee.

“Yeah…” She smiled dreamily. “It is.”

——

Saturday was another date-night, or rather date-afternoon. They went to see The Free State of Jones at the movie theater since it had been out for about a month and Jamie had been wanting to see it. Evidently, Jamie was more of a history buff than Claire had picked up on, and she thoroughly enjoyed watching him absorb the movie, and she also enjoyed the movie quite a lot herself. She knew next to nothing about the American Civil War aside from what was to be seen in Gone With the Wind.

They'd managed to keep kissing to a minimum in the theater, but they weren't completely prudish. There were, after all, only eight other people in the entire theater, and they were spread out enough that they managed to share a few lingering kisses. But outside of that, they actually watched the movie, and Claire did not fall asleep.

“I didna bore ye wi' my long movie this time, Sassenach?” Jamie teased as they left the building.

“Oh, don't even. I worked all day Wednesday, and it was past my bedtime,” Claire shot back. “And besides, I still retained what happened. I just retained this movie…better.”

Jamie tossed back his head in a barking laugh as they got into his car. He brought her to a pizzeria, and the man behind the counter cried out with joy to see Jamie.

“Hey! It's Fraser!”

“Hallo, Vinny,” Jamie called back, putting his hand on the small of Claire's back.

“And who is this?” the dark-haired, red-faced man asked.

“This,” Jamie flashed a smile at Claire, swelling with pride, “is my girlfriend. Claire Beauchamp.”

“A girlfriend!” Vinny boomed. “Hey! Luca!” He shouted at the door that Claire presumed led to the kitchen. His New York-Italian accent increased dramatically when he yelled. “Fraser’s got a girl here!”

Claire felt herself blushing fiercely, and Vinny reached over the glass display of pizza slices to shake her hand.

“Great to meet you, Claire.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Claire answered, shaking his hand.

“Ha!” Vinny laughed heartily, squeezing her hand and giving it another shake. “What’d ya do? Send for her from across the ocean?”

Jamie joined him in laughter. “She found me, actually. Her Englishness is a complete coincidence.”

“My daughter is a client at Harmony Stables,” Claire chimed in. “That’s how we met.”

“Oh! Well I’ll be damned! Hey! Luca! Get out here!” He yelled back again unexpectedly, causing Claire to jump a little. “Goddamn, Fraser, look at her!”

“Aye, I ken.” Claire blushed fiercely as Jamie swelled with pride again, squeezing her shoulder and pressing her into his side. “I’m a lucky man.”

“Ya gotta bring your daughter here sometime. I’d love to meet her,” Vinny said, leaning against the counter. “I know most of those kids already, but I think I’d remember you.”

Claire smiled.

“Vinny’s is where we get the pizza fer events,” Jamie explained. “All the kids know him by name.”

“Oh! Well then I’m already a happy customer,” Claire said with a chuckle.

“What’s her name?” Vinny asked.

“Faith.”

“Beautiful! Ya gotta bring her by, I just love those kids — ”

Just then, the kitchen doors opened, and a man who could have been a second Vinny burst in, apparently Luca.

“Well I’ll be damned!”

Claire chuckled to herself; they even said the same words in the same exact way.

“Where the hell did you find her?” Luca said.

“This is my brother, Luca. Vincent Senior is our old man. He’s around sometimes, just not today,” Vinny explained. “This is Claire Beauchamp. From England.”

“Great to meet you! Whatsamatter, couldn’t find a girl around here?” Luca ribbed, shaking Claire’s hand.

“Ye need original content, Luca,” Jamie said. “Yer brother said the same thing.”

“Alright, alright, enough gawking at the poor thing,” Vinny interrupted. “What can I get for ya?”

“The usual fer me,” Jamie said. “How about you, Sassenach?”

“What’s your usual?” she asked.

“Buffalo chicken slice.”

She wrinkled her nose at him.

“Yucking someone else’s yum again?” He cocked a brow at her, and she rolled her eyes.

“Do you have a meat lover’s slice? Something like that?”

“Sure do.”

“Alright, I’ll have that.”

“Anything to drink?”

“Just water for me,” Claire said.

“Ginger ale fer me,” Jamie said.

Claire pulled out her wallet.

“What are ye doing?”

“Paying for our lunch.”

“Sassenach — ”

“Jamie, you paid for that obscenely expensive food last week, and the carnival tickets, and you bought all the ingredients for that bloody lasagna. Not to mention today’s movie. Let me pay for one thing. I’m a doctor for Christ’s sake, it’s not as if I can’t afford some bloody pizza.”

Without another word, Claire handed Vinny her credit card, and Jamie did not try to fight her. Vinny’s brows were nearly at his hairline, and he was clearly fighting the urge to grin.

“I like this one, Fraser!” Luca called, shoveling their slices into the oven before departing into the kitchen.

Claire tried to hide her smirk of pride as she signed the receipt.

“So you’re a doctor?” Vinny said. “Stony Brook?”

“Yes, Emergency Medicine,” Claire said proudly. “Still a residency, but yes.”

“Goddamn, Fraser,” Vinny said again, shaking his head as he returned Claire’s card. “Don’t you even think about letting this one go.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” Jamie winked, and then led Claire to a table.

“So, are you friends with every small business owner on Long Island?” Claire asked, flashing a glance at Vinny.

“Not every…but a fair amount,” he said. “Sorry about that, by the way. I should’ve warned ye that they’d be…curious. About my having a lass wi’ me.”

She chuckled. “That’s alright. They’re fun.”

“Didna scare ye away?”

“Not at all.” She laced their fingers together on the table.

They began discussing the movie and all the tangents it brought up, and then Vinny came by with their individual slices. Claire should have realized that Jamie would have ordered two slices; she didn’t even notice on her receipt.

“How you can eat neon orange on pizza is beyond me,” she said, watching him take a bite.

“Dinna like spicy, Sassenach?”

“I didn’t say that,” she said. “Buffalo chicken is a chicken wing flavor, not a pizza flavor. Two worlds that should not collide.”

He made an amused Scottish noise and took another bite. “So ye like buffalo wings then?”

“I’ve been known to handle a few.”

“We’ll have to test that someday.”

She hummed in amusement, and then dug into her own slice. Jamie was finished with both of his slices before Claire was finished with her one slice, even though she could tell he’d been trying to pace himself to be polite. Before they left, Claire ordered a plain slice for Faith to eat when she got home, since it would be dinner time shortly. Faith didn’t mind an off-routine early dinner if she was getting something special like pizza. Jamie also ordered them Italian ices, lemon for him and rainbow for Claire, and she caught him trying to pay for the ices and Faith’s dinner. One look was enough to have him putting his wallet back in his pocket, and this time, Vinny did laugh out loud.

With an aggressively friendly slap on Jamie's shoulder, Vinny bid them farewell, and they headed back to Claire's apartment. Though Faith was normally over the moon at the return of her mother (especially if she had Jamie with her), she remained entirely nonplussed at their arrival, entirely too focused on the puzzle she was doing with Delia. It wasn't until Claire said the word “pizza” that Faith sprung up from the coffee table and started pawing at her mother’s legs.

“That’s what I thought,” Claire said with a chuckle. “Yes, I know.” Faith reached up for the pizza and moaned in annoyance as Claire held it higher. “Pizza after you say goodbye to your friend and to Auntie Gail.”

Faith screwed up her face in protest, making exaggerated whining noises, but Claire just stared her down. “Stop whining, and be polite. Say goodbye.”

Faith turned around and gave Delia a reluctant hug, which Claire had to remind Faith to be gentle with in her reluctance. She hugged Gail with the same begrudging attitude, and then she began tugging on Claire’s shirt to pull her into the kitchen.

Claire looked back and forth between Faith and Gail and Delia.

“Jamie, can you go with her?” She handed him the box containing Faith’s slice, and he nodded wordlessly.

“C’mon lass. Let’s get ye settled fer supper.”

Claire shook her head in exasperation as she thanked Gail for babysitting once again, and then saw them off outside. By the time she got back to the kitchen, Faith was already sitting at the table with her pizza slice shaped plate, Jamie nearly finished cutting up the slice.

“How did you know about the pizza plate?” Claire said, amused.

“Well, I tried putting it on a normal plate, and she wasna having that. Tried one of those princess plates I ken ye’ve got, didna work either. Then she dragged me to the cabinet and wouldna move ’til I found this.” He finished cutting the pizza, having kept the general shape of it to fit the shape of the plate.

Claire’s grin was unabashedly enormous, and she closed the gap between them, meeting him behind Faith’s chair.

“Excellent work, detective.” He smirked, and she leaned in to kiss him, emboldened by Faith’s lack of attention, focused as she was on eating her pizza. Jamie hummed with amused contentment into the kiss, causing a brief vibrating sensation against her lips.

Jamie trailed his fingertips up over her hips to rest on the small of her back, pointedly avoiding her arse. Claire groaned in annoyance, but grinned anyway, pulling away to rest their foreheads together, draping her arms around his neck. For a moment, they just swayed absently to the music of Faith’s humming to the tune of “Someday My Prince Will Come,” not skipping a beat even as she chewed.

It wasn’t long at all before Faith pushed her plate away and hoisted herself up onto her knees, turning around to stand on the chair and tap on both of their heads. They both laughed softly.

“All done, lovie?” Claire took her hands off Jamie so she could sign. “All done?”

Faith repeated the sign lazily, and Claire was about to correct her when she started jumping in the chair, pointing at the freezer.

“Woah! Careful there, lass. Remember what Mam said about climbing, aye?” Without thinking, Jamie scooped her up from under her arms, lifted her over the back of the chair, and deposited her safely onto the ground.

Claire thought absolutely nothing of it, starting to head over to the freezer for Faith’s ice cream, but then Jamie froze. He drew away from Faith quickly yet gently, looking up at Claire, absolutely mortified.

“I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I should have asked. I’ve no right tae just pick her up like that. I’m sorry, Claire.”

Faith was none the wiser; she flitted over to the freezer.

“Jamie,” Claire said quickly, reaching for his hands. “She’s fine.” She maintained eye contact to emphasize her point, but the worry between his furrowed brows would not ease. “She’s been letting you touch her for a while now. That was perfectly normal for her. And perfectly natural for you to do it.”

“Are ye…are ye sure…?”

Claire still held his gaze as she raised his hands to her lips and kissed them fervently. “She trusts you, Jamie.”

Faith gave a small shout then, apparently not at all pleased that her request for ice cream was going ignored for so long.

“You ok?” Claire asked.

“Aye, sorry,” he chuckled. “Wee panic over nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.” Claire left his side to open the freezer, and Faith began bouncing with joy. “It makes perfect sense that you’d be afraid to cross that boundary with her. But I think in her head, you’re already past that point.”

She reached into the cabinet for a bowl and then the drawer for a spoon.

“I, uh…” Jamie stammered. “Hadna realized, I suppose.”

“You really don’t know how special you are to her? — Yes, yes, go sit down.” Claire crossed the kitchen to put down the ice cream in Faith’s spot.

“I suppose I…hoped. But I never wanted to assume,” Jamie said sheepishly. “I ken ye say I’m ‘dating’ ye both, but I didna ken if she…knew that.”

Claire chuckled softly, caressing Faith’s curly head as her spoon clanked against her bowl. “I think she does.”

Jamie’s grin widened lopsidedly, and Claire had to physically restrain herself from jumping into his arms and kissing him senseless.

“Ye’ll tell me, though? If I need to pull back wi’ her?”

“I think she would tell you, loud and clear,” Claire said dryly, her eyes full of mirth. “No, I know what you mean. And yes, I would. Surely it’s not the same with you as it is for me where you can just snatch her like I have to sometimes. It’s a bit different, as…”

“Her parent,” Jamie finished for her, nodding in agreement.

“Yeah.”

“Believe me, I understand. I ken I’m no’ her parent.”

Claire’s stomach flipped; not at what he said, but at what her brain decided to say after he said it.

You could be.

“Right,” she said instead, internally yelling back at herself that she was a nutter for thinking something so bloody serious about a man who she’d gone on a first date with a week ago. “But you’re…building something different, special in its own way. You both need time before you have to start laying down the law like I have to.”

“Aye, I understand.”

“But,” Claire said, finally making her way over to him and taking his hands again. “You can pick her up if it looks like she wants you to, you can hold her hand, hug her, whatever it seems she wants from you.” Jamie nodded, his eyes lighting up. “You read her well enough at this point. You’ll know.”

“Aye. I will.”

Claire pecked him gently. When she pulled away, Jamie was not looking at her, but instead looking out of the corner of his eye. When Claire followed his gaze, she caught Faith flitting out of the kitchen, hands and face still smeared with chocolate ice cream.

“Oh no you don’t!” Claire rushed to snatch Faith by the wrist and drag her back into the kitchen and toward the sink. “There will be no watching any movie that gets smothered with ice cream.”

Faith squirmed in annoyance and tried to get away, and then Claire got an idea.

“Hey, hey, listen, Faith,” she said. “Why doesn’t Jamie help you wash your hands? Hm?”

She looked up to Jamie, and he immediately sprang into action. “Right, how does that sound, lass?”

Faith immediately stopped fighting, and she turned around to face Jamie, holding up her messy hands expectantly. Jamie chuckled and turned on the water, then lifted her under the arms so she could reach the running water.

“Very good, give them a good scrub,” he crooned, and she obeyed clumsily. “Give yer face a good scrub too, aye? Dinna want chocolate-mouth fer yer movie. Aye, good girl.”

Claire stood there against the counter, paper towel ready for drying, her heart swelling three sizes.

How could I ever have thought we’d be better off without him…?

So occupied she was with adoration, she nearly missed when Faith was back on the ground and Jamie turned off the taps.

“Good job, Faithie,” Claire said, crouching down to wipe her face clean of any more smudges, using the lingering water on her face, then dried her hands. “Alright, all done. Let’s pick a movie, shall we?”

They shifted into the living room, where Faith retrieved Monsters, Inc., and they settled into their usual positions. Claire didn’t have a shift this week that ended early enough for Jamie to have time to come over and make dinner before Faith’s bedtime, so they were getting in their movie time tonight. Since dinner was a bit earlier than normal, the movie also ended a bit earlier than normal. They finished the puzzle that Faith hadn’t finished with Delia, then started and finished another one, all while Faith’s music played from Claire’s phone, with the occasional interruption for a little dance.

When bedtime rolled around, Jamie said goodnight to Faith, earning a pat on the cheek before she scurried off. After the whole routine, Claire poured them drinks and nuzzled into him on the couch. She flicked Netflix on and let The Office start playing from a random episode in the middle of season three.

“Ye’re like a wee kitten,” Jamie said.

“What?” She craned her neck to pick her head up from its spot on his chest.

“The way ye’re stretched out and balled up at the same time, all over me.”

Claire made an indignant little “hmph” sound, but made no attempt to move; she, in fact, buried herself in further.

“I hope you’re at least a cat person,” she said.

He made an amused Scottish noise. “More of a dog person, really. No’ those wee yapping ones; I need a beast wi’ more substance. Like Angus. That’s a fine creature.”

Claire scoffed indignantly, sitting up and facing him. “So you tell me I’m a kitten and then tell me you don’t like cats.”

“Didna say I didna like ’em.”

“You may as well have.”

“Och, Sassenach.” He leaned in, his lips lingering inches from hers. “Ye ken by now I like having ye on top of me, feline or no.”

He made to close the gap, to kiss her, but Claire leaned back, causing him to chase after her and open his eyes when he didn’t make contact. Claire laughed at the unconscious pout he made. “What on Earth ever made me think you were the smoothest talker I ever met?”

“Dinna ken about that. My foot ends up in my mouth quite more than I’d care to admit.”

“Hm. Indeed.”

“I’d much rather…” He moved in closer, and Claire had no further to go, stuck against the arm of the couch. “Have something else in my mouth.”

“Oh?” She raised a brow, then darted her tongue out to lick her lips, far too slowly. “What could that be?”

He growled possessively and claimed her lips with his, and she moaned lightly against them. She did not waste any time before obliging him, thrusting her tongue into his mouth and mingling it with his. They lingered like this for a moment, performing the carefully and repeatedly rehearsed dance of lips and tongue, then they parted, Jamie folding her into himself again. They focused lazily on the tellie for a bit before Jamie broke the silence.

“Ye ever seen the beaches around here, Sassenach?”

“No, actually. Seems silly after how long I’ve been here now.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “I was just thinking about my own family dogs running around on the beaches in Scotland — ”

“So now you were thinking of dogs while kissing me?”

“And I — Och, come off it.” He playfully swatted her arse, causing her to squeak and swat him back, directly on his left pectoral. “I was thinking that it would be nice to take Faith. She likes the water, aye?”

“Yes, she’s obsessed, ever since she was a baby. Bath time is a field day. Ever since I took her to the Abernathy’s pool that one time, every time Gail comes over Faith scurries into her room for her bathing suit.”

Jamie laughed softly. “She kens what she wants.”

“Indeed.”

“So…what d’ye think? Would she be alright if there was a crowd?”

“Well…we won’t know unless we try. And Angus is helpful during stable events. So maybe she’ll be alright.”

“Aye, he’s a service dog so he’ll be allowed on any beach we choose.”

Claire got an image in her head of Faith squishing sand in her hands, loving the sensory aspect of it, squealing as cold water rushed over her toes.

“If she canna handle it we’ll have a backup plan. We can take her to the stables and use the sprinkler from the Fourth of July. Fill a kiddie pool or something.”

Claire felt warmth spread from head to toe. He knew without having to ask that even if Faith didn’t want to be at the beach, if she was in her bathing suit, she’d be expecting a water activity and would not be happy doing anything else.

She sat up and tenderly kissed his check, caressing his stubbled chin and jaw. “I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

He smiled and took her caressing hand in both of his, then kissed her knuckles. “Alright. That’s braw. I ken most of the beaches, so I ken the ones that are most crowded, the ones that play loud live music, which ones have sand or rocks. Faith’ll want sand, of course.”

She smiled, nodding. “Right.”

“Next Saturday? I’ll prepare the lunches, you prepare the bairn and the dog?”

“Yes, okay. That’s perfect.”

Seemingly from sheer excitement nearly bubbling over, Jamie kissed her soundly.

“I’ll start preparing her starting tomorrow, give her a rundown of the routine — ”

“I’ll arrive at nine to pick ye both up — ”

“Great, I can tell her what time she needs to wake up, what time breakfast needs to be finished, what time she needs to dress and lotion up — ”

“Have her bring her tablet in the car, the beach I have in mind is an hour away — ”

“I’ll lay some towels on the living room floor, and we’ll practice staying on the towel so maybe she won’t bolt while we’re there — ”

“Fine idea. That’s braw.”

They were talking over each other, stumbling over their words like a couple of school children talking about recess. They shook their heads at themselves, then shared another kiss, lingering with their foreheads together.

“D’ye think it’ll ever stop?”

“What?”

“This…feeling. Like I’m…gonna burst at the thought of seeing ye again, even when ye’re still right in front of me.”

Claire pulled away only enough so that she could meet his eye and caress his chin.

“I don't know. But I hope it never does.”

[sktt1-things]

Mended (Faker x Reader)

You've been a part of a T1 for a long time, spending your time with Sanghyeok, known as Faker, you met him when you're new and you're getting along with other team players like Cuzz, Canna and Teddy, who became your close friends right after starting being best friends with Sanghyeok, it was a moment that you start falling for him couple of months later.

Ratings: Angst / Super Fluff

Featuring:

Cuzz (Woochan)

Canna (Changdong)

Teddy (Jinseong)

LS (Nick)

Effort (Sangho)

"(y/n)-noona" Changdong walked over to you "have you seen my jacket?" he asked.

You turned around and looked for the jacket that he asked and found it on his gaming chair "Changdong, have you seen Sanghyeok lately? he was so busy with interviews and stuff. You understand him but I've more concerned that he might out of focus when he was playing" said with a worry as you gave Changdong his jacket.

"Relax noona, he's getting used to it. It looks like you look concerned for Sanghyeok-hyung" he started chuckle when you mentioned about the part-owner.

"Changdong-ah, he was my best friend..." I stopped when my felt something that associate with him "more than that?"

"I KNEW IT" He giggled, it looks like he found out, but this Solo-killing machine is always keeping secrets because he might believed that it will ruined and getting more awkward.

"Hey what's going on here?" LS walked over to the practice room. "Hey Nick, we're just talking about Faker's interviews” you answered.

“Oh yeah, he might be done with that in a few, can we talk to him?" LS informed before we walked up to the main room of HQ and saw Faker already done with that "Sanghyeok-hyung, how is it?" Changdong

"It was good but I think I have to focus on League, and hey (y/n)" Sanghyeok smiled as he saw you appeared.

"Annyeong Sanghyeok, you're working too much, you need some rest" Faker has a tons of doing things like these, he deserves to rest and play League "I know (y/n), but can we talk in private?”

Wait... is he going to confess or what???

“uhm sure why not?” you replied as we’re going to the hallway, pretty much around here in silence but don’t know what’s going to happen, maybe it was the thought that you have about him.

“What’s up with you anyways?” you said in mature manner.

“There’s something that I can tell you” Sanghyeok said as he was trying to breath and telling about it “I’ve heard you’re talking to Changdong few weeks ago” he said.

“Wait, you know?” you said in kinda shock, it might be he have heard that you’ve told Changdong that you have feelings for Sanghyeok.

“Ne” he nodded “I was just flattered but...”

You expect the heartbreak though.

“I... just don’t feel the same” the heart broken into pieces as he said to you with words. You have to hold back your tears as the words already stuck in your head with a nod “It’s okay, I understand that”

“(y/n), joesonghamnida” Sanghyeok bowed with apology but he didn’t notice your little tears.

“It’s alright, we’re still friends right? I understand that you’re too busy with everything, I don’t want to be the cause of your career will jeopardized” you gave him a fake smile, never know what exactly would the next step after all of this “I have to go, goodnight Sanghyeok-oppa”

“yeah, goodnight (y/n)” he said in deep voice, you bowed a bit and walked out with the starts rolling down from your eyes, thinking of him never know that you’re crying right now.

You’ve rushed to your room, broke down by sitting on your bed, covering your face with hand as the tears more fell down, how it feels that you have been rejected by Sanghyeok.

It never been interrupted when Teddy and Cuzz walked over to your room “(y/n)-noona”, you saw them went over to your room but your face are full of tears.

“eotteohge doen geoyeyo? (what happened?)” They rushed over to her while Cuzz putting her head on arms wrapping around his shoulder for comfort "Sanghyeok-hyung?"

"He rejected me Woochan-ah" you said with a sniff.

"What? he must be a selfish punk right now!" Teddy said with the slight anger, you never seen him being angry at this.

"I'm so sorry to hear that noona" Cuzz hugged you tight like a sibling figure, he must be worried about your situation "Woochan-ah, I need to go somewhere for a while-" it was interruped when Canna walked over too "Noona?"

"She got rejected by that punk" Teddy said to Canna. Cuzz wiping your tears with the handkerchief while Canna "(y/n), you can stay to my sister for a while"

"Kamsamnida, Changdong maybe I could stay there just to let it pass this" you said while the sniff continues.

Few weeks later...

You already stayed in Canna's sister, it all happen you became close with as you're helping her "How's Changdong?"

"He's doing fine actually, but thank you for letting me stay here in your home"

"No worries (y/n), also thank you for taking care of my brother while staying in the HQ" she smiled as she gave me a food after we finished cooking "no problem, he's doing good nowadays"

"What happened anyway since you're staying at the building before?" Canna's noona said after biting her food.

"Sang-oppa rejected me few weeks ago, we've been close until it all happened" you frowned as she noticed that you've seemed to be bothered by the moment.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry to hear that, I bet my brother can give him some advice" she pointed it out because she knows her brother's intelligence and being open minded. You didn't answered at her question, continuing on eating a lot of food.

Meanwhile at HQ...

Faker seems to be bothered by your disappearance, all of his fellow players know about this situation but didn't inform him about you staying at Canna's sister.

"Sanghyeok-hyung, what's up?" Effort walked over, he came up to the headquarters after a week of vacation "Sangho-ah, have you seen (y/n) lately?" Faker asked, he felt something that it will might be a regret for him for a while.

"Ani, she left few weeks ago, Changdong-ah just informed me yesterday" Effort said, seems to be sad about what happened between both of you, about what Effort said about you leaving the building which made Faker without saying a word.

The flashback appeared: the moment he met you during the All Star Event as his opponent during the 1v1, the heads of Faker's org where he was sees the potential of you that it lead on signing with them as a streamer and content creator. You and him became more bestfriends when you both at the rooftop having a heart to heart talk, it made a lot more of both of you hanging out everyday along with his teammates which you become close also, but Faker didn't expect that he wanted more to be with you alone

The flashback ended when he pointed it out "I guess I've missed her".

"Why don't you make things right with her, because you know she felt that it was her fault for falling for a hyung like you" Effort said with an advice for his hyung.

Teddy walks in "Sanghyeok-hyung, you had one job for hurting her" he was lowkey mad at the team captain for hurting the noona of this circle "Anyway, she was staying in Changdong's province, you can make it up to her and we don't want you to be affected by our future matches with other teams"

"You're right Jinseong, since-" *phone buzzed on Faker's phone*

Sanghyeok-hyung, her train arrival here in Seoul will be in few minutes, go! - Changdong

Teddy tap his hand on Faker's shoulder "Get her hyung".

Faker smiled then run off from the HQ with his keys and car as he drove off to the Seoul train station but he have to do slowly because of the snow until he arrived at the parking lot.

Meanwhile, you walked off from the station forgot the cover for your neck because it was freezing "I don't know why I came back here although I really want to."

You keep standing there as you're waiting for the taxi to get you but you saw the car that Faker drove with and walked over to it "wait, why his car here"

You felt the warm scarf wrapped around your neck before the arms also wrapping around you

"(y/n)" he said with a mutter in his voice "I'm glad you came back"

You turn around as you saw him standing infront of you, still his arms around you "Sanghyeok, wha-" her words interrupted when his lips landed on yours deeply, felt he had waiting to do this for so long before he pulled it away "I was waiting for and make it up to you, I'm sorry for took so long to realize" he still muttered as he said to you with his forehead landed on yours “will you ever forgive me and be my girlfriend?”

“Of course Sanghyeok-ah, and I’ll stay with you” you smiled as he felt his heart rejoiced for you being back in Seoul, wanting to be with you longer. You didn’t expect much happier with this.

-

you can send some request thru ask because I was so busy with streaming and stuff, but will still gonna do it if I’m free lmao :D if you would like to revise this fanfic, let me know thru dms :D

And also CONGRATS TO T1 for winning the first game in LCK Spring! let’s support them even hoping of making it to Worlds this year <3

[big-chicken-man]

💰

“Ya can’t be serious.”

“Aye, but I am.”

With furrowed brows, Steelbeak rubbed his temples. Sitting across from him at a desk was none other than the famed Scrooge McDuck, the very man Bradford held seething hatred for before his eventual defeat. Since then, Steelbeak lead an unobtrusive life in St. Canard. Even with plenty of money leftover from his time at FOWL, the rooster still chose to pursue work, bringing him to One Chump Plaza Casino as a security agent. Just when he was getting stability in his life, he couldn’t cut all connections to those in his past, it seemed. A phone call promising an offer had coaxed him back to Duckburg, and surprisingly, McDuck Enterprises headquarters.

“Okay— lemme just make sure I’m gettin’ this straight, yeah? You, want to hire me, to try and steal from you…”

“Yes.”

“In ya big ol’ building…”

“Yes.”

“To test the security every so often?”

“Correeeeeect!” Sang a third voice, making Steelbeak grimace. He forgot the Harp of Mervana was present the entire time. Nothing wrong with enforcing honesty in an interview.

Steelbeak couldn’t have been more dumbfounded even if he tried. He thought that after his last run-in with the McDucks and their allies, they wouldn’t want to see his face again. Upon asking why he was chosen instead of literally anyone else, the rationale was simple. Ma Beagle, Magica, and Flintheart chased after his money in the past, and were likely to go after his fortune again. Finding someone as competent in pulling heists as the McDucks themselves was impossible, until looking at other nemeses, but other than Goldie, everyone else was either dead, missing, or irrelevant.

This left Steelbeak, who was potent enough to fight Gizmoduck, Darkwing Duck, and Launchpad by himself, and then use boosted intellect to further upgrade the Intelli-Ray in record time. In essence, he was an astronomical force to be reckoned with. But unlike the others, Steelbeak never sought revenge, as told by a certain ally who spied on the former mobster the past couple of months. The rooster had a strong idea of whom, but didn’t bother voicing his guess.

With the Harp of Mervana having not detected any lies from Steelbeak so far, his trustworthiness was palpable. It seemed he truly did learn his lesson, and was turning over a new leaf, leaving Scrooge more confident in believing Steelbeak as the perfect prospect for testing the Bin’s security. This was further solidified when the billionaire asked him whether he wanted to hurt his family. When the rooster deadpanned a simple “no,” the Harp of Mervana grinned and nodded. But even then, Steelbeak was not convinced he wanted to take on such employment. That meant being around former foes of his, those he put in cells back in the library. The last thing he wanted was even more trouble with anyone under Scrooge’s umbrella.

…Until the wage was mentioned, making Steelbeak perk up. It could not have been real.

“That ain’t a joke?”

“I cannae lie around her, now can I?”

It wouldn’t support a life of exquisite luxury on its own, but with Steelbeak’s current job and FOWL money to back him, he’d be more than comfortable indulging in expensive taste. More importantly, he’d be secure himself, a necessity FOWL didn't truly provide him. The rooster was more than ready to shake hands when Scrooge furrowed his brows.

“Ye do realize I’ll need her present for routine appraisal, yes?” He gestured to the Harp. It was important to keep tabs on Steelbeak to make sure he wouldn’t betray Scrooge later on, and earning more trust was going to be a huge journey.

Steelbeak proudly jabbed a thumb to his own chest. “I can handle it.”

“But how do I know for sure that you’re the best man for the job?”

As if on cue, Steelbeak let out a faint sigh, reaching underneath his chair. He then placed a rather…familiar gold flip phone, cane, and wallet directly on to the desk, inching them closer.

“Because I still got it, baby. You need a guy that can take from the smartest, toughest, and sharpest out there without gettin’ caught, right?” Steelbeak’s grin was more smug than ever, especially when he saw the surprise strewn on Scrooge’s face. He raised his hands in defense as Scrooge frantically searched the leather. “Relax, I didn’t take nothin’ from ya wallet.”

“Correeeeeeect!”

“See?” Steelbeak chuckled, even with Scrooge giving him a sour glare. “Look, I ain’t got any beef with your folks anymore, and I don’t plan on takin’ any money from you other than my pay, yeah? Youse can count on me to sneak around right and show you where you need to up ya defenses. If that wasn’t the case, then ya gorgeous friend over here woulda told you, right?”

The harp nodded, confirming Steelbeak’s honesty and logic. Scrooge sighed. The rooster was more slippery than the smoothest of ice, but by all technicalities, it was what Scrooge needed to ensure his fortune would continue to be safe. With the Harp of Mervana to ensure the rooster told him only the truth when assessed, he wouldn’t be able to hide anything. Scrooge stood up, extending his hand.

“Then you and I have a deal, Steelbeak.”

Steelbeak too got up on his feet, towering over Scrooge. Though rather than appearing threatening, he sported a genuine smile as he met the duck’s hand for a firm shake. The smaller man was about to return the grin when he felt something metallic in his palm. He pulled back, looking down to see his pocket watch. “…Ye can start by not doing that anymore, lad."

“Eheh heh heh, sure thing…boss.”

[ladycumhangabhainn]

Dans un autre monde - Part 11

The ride back from Craigh na Dun was spent in relative silence, except for Roger quiet sobs. Mrs Graham was sitting in the back seat with him while a red eyed Reverend drove the Anglia back to Inverness. As much as he had believed everything Claire had told him, actually seeing her and the girls passing through the Stones had made things even more real.

As they pulled into the rectory’s driveway, they noticed a forest green Land Rover parked by the entrance and a young couple waiting.

“Father, look! It’s Auntie Claire!”

The reverend had barely stopped the car before the little boy opened the door and ran toward the young woman who, while looking incredibly like Claire, was clearly too tall and looked much younger.

“Auntie Claire! I knew ye’d be back! Where are... Ye’re not me Auntie Claire!”

The young woman smiled warmly, crouching to the little boy.

“No, I’m not your Auntie Claire. My name’s Clara and you, dashing wee gentleman, must be Roger. I heard a lot about you, young man.”

“Ye ken my Auntie Claire?! She just left with the girls...”

“I... You could say I know her... Here, this nice man is my cousin, who’s also named Roger. If you ask nicely he’ll show you around his brand new Rover...”

The little boy didn’t need to be told twice and ran toward the redheaded young man.

“May we help ye, Miss...”

“Fraser, Clara Fraser from Fraser Press. And this is my cousin, Roger Murray. It’s an honour to finally meet you, Reverend Wakefield.”

“I imagine ye are nae here to bring me new published books...”

“No, I’m not...”

“Well, we should all get inside, right Reverend? Roger, lad!”

Both Roger turned toward Mrs Graham, making Clara Fraser laugh softly.

“A Diah! There’s two of them now... Come, both of ye!”

***

Clara Fraser and Roger Murray were seated in the sitting room of the rectory, waiting for Mrs Graham and the Reverend. The former had taken wee Roger to his room while the latter was fetching his best Scotch.

“I cannae believe it, Clara! It’s Roger Mac and he’s a wee laddie!”

“Hush, Roger! You know we can’t let them know about that... But you’re right, it’s quite bizarre. Wait ‘til we tell Grand-Père...”

The Reverend and Mrs Graham finally joined them, bringing a decanter and glasses.

“So... Miss Fraser, Mister Murray...” started the Reverend. “If I remember correctly from what Claire told us, I would assume that ye are both related to her...”

“You are correct. Both Roger and I are descendants of Claire and James Fraser. I... I don’t know what we should and what we shouldn’t tell you... This whole time travelling...”

The two cousins exchanged looks before coming up with an answer.

“Clara is a direct descendant of Claire and Jamie’s first son, Fergus. As fer me, my da is a direct descendant of Jamie’s sister, Jenny, and my ma is Clara’s aunt, a descendant of Fergus.”

“So ye must ken that Claire and the wee lasses left this morning...”

Clara nodded.

“As you must know, Fraser Press was first established as a printshop by Fergus Fraser, Claire and Jamie’s son... Our many times great-grandfather... When he first started it, his mother gave him and his descendants a task, an important task. She gave Fergus a large chest, containing hundreds of letters she wrote for a man who wasn’t even born yet. Fraser Press kept this chest through the year until it was time to bring it here and give you the first of the letter.”

She searched her handbag and handed him a letter sealed with wax.

“This is the first letter... We have a very specific timeline for each of the others. We will post them accordingly.”

The Reverend looked at the wax seal bearing the crest of the Fraser of Lovat and their moto, Je Suis Prest.

“Reverend... May I ask ye something?”

“Go ahead, son...”

“What is she like? Claire, I mean... We saw portraits, there is a rather large one at Lallybroch and another one at Grand-Père Fraser’s house in Edinburgh...”

Mrs Graham was the one to answer, seeing as the Reverend was clearly taken by emotion.

“She’s quite the lady, our Claire. Ahead of her time, even by today’s standard, right Reverend?”

The old man nodded, trying very hard not to broke down and cry. Finally he raised his glass.

“To Claire Beauchamp Fraser... A unique lady, ahead of her time!”

*****

To my dear Reggie,

If you are reading this letter, then my plan worked and my Fergus’ descendants were able to keep the hundreds of letters I wrote to you through the years. Although for you I just left this morning, for me it has been many, many years. I am now even older than you currently are. My hair is still as thick and curly as ever, but now it is streaked with grey. But to Jamie I am still his Mo Nighean Donn.

I am now an old woman, an old woman who had the joy and privilege of watching my children grow up and start their own families. But I want you to know that I never forgot you, neither did the girls. Each of my children and grandchildren grew up knowing about their Uncle Reggie without whom I wouldn’t have found my way back to my Jamie.

You should received the first letter I wrote to you in a week.

Please kiss Roger and Mrs Graham for me.

Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp Fraser

TBC...

[kalendraashtar]

Fanfiction - Dark Shines

Just two chapters to go in Murder 1 after this one! Thank you for reading and supporting. Lots of love X

Part I, Part II , Part III , Part IV , Part V , Part VI , Part VII

Dark Shines

Part VIII – Witness

She was a witch and he was in her thrall.

Once, he had no recollection of her face as soon as she was away; now he was bewitched by the memory of her. Claire's face was never far away from his thoughts, and for the next three days as soon as he left the station he went straight to her house.

They made love with abandon, sometimes against the front door or on the hallway's floor, as if intimate touch was something that could escape them at any moment. Claire would relieve him of the burden of his holster and past sorrows with a knowing, fearless, hand; he committed to the job of loving her right with his whole body.

Jamie found laughter in her bed again, a wave that broke into him belly-deep, and he was forever chasing the sensation of lightness of her skin against his. She told him stories about her unusual customers, both tea-seekers and craft-believers, and he relished in experiencing something of her through those tales. They seldom talked about the past and never about the future, happy to exist only in that precipice before and after their joining.

"Do you want to see some actual magic?" She asked late one night, as Jamie watched her intently, sprawled on her unmade bed as she moved across the room. A rumpled sheet covered him modestly around the waist, auburn and cinnamon glistening on the sparse hairs of his naked thighs and legs.

"I thought I just did." He offered her a lopsided grin, filled with cockiness.

"I have more to offer than a good seeing to, Mister Fraser." She answered coquettishly, bouncing her stormy curls. "I mean, do you want to see what I can do with my craft?"

"I thought ye didna want to show me." Jamie noted haltingly, leaning forward so that he was half-sitting on the bed. "Couldn't ye have used it before, to convince me to believe ye?"

"You believe me now." The witch replied simply, as if that settled the matter entirely. "And that's why."

Not waiting for another rebuttal, Claire sat in front of him with crossed legs and covered her face with the palms of her hands, whispering softly.

"Servant of time under my palms,

Skin of oak, blood of sap,

Future me for him to see."

Jamie had a peculiar sense of warm wind howling from her hands, and when she finally moved them and revealed her face, he gasped audibly.

Staring back at him, with mischief laughing in her amber eyes, was a very old woman who looked remarkably like Claire, her skin seemingly made of marble-white parchment. Crowning her striking face wasn’t a riot of grey-white hair, but the same rich brown curls he had caressed just minutes before.

“How?” He asked hoarsely, moistening his lips to hide his incredulity. Fearfully, he reached out to touch her cheek - it felt warm and lively, just as her skin always felt underneath his eager fingers. “Is that - is that really ye, Claire?”

“Of course!” The tea-maker laughed and shook her head vigorously, as if battling away droplets of stubborn water, and when she raised her eyes again to glance victoriously at him, her face had returned to normal - beautiful, mysterious, young. "Or I will be, someday. What you see isn't all there is to see, Jamie. Creating things that aren’t there at all is harder - but this is actually quite simple.”

“I won’t lie, lass.” The profiler tilted his head, inspecting her closely, as if she was about to fade into thin, uncapturable, mist. “It’s verra hard to wrap my heid around it all.” He pressed his lips, half-amused. “Ye could turn me into a munter of a toad, if I dinna please ye, aye?”

Claire chuckled, nudging his bare chest with her open palm, as she came closer to him until their faces were in promising proximity. She quickly waved her right hand in front of her eyes and they shone ruby-red for an instant, before they returned to delicate honey. “Luckily, you please me plenty.”

Before Jamie could kiss her expectant mouth, the doorbell rang, sounding misplaced and dangerous in the quietness of the little hours of night.

“Stay here, Jamie.” The witch frowned and raised quickly, grabbing a blue robe to cover her nakedness, as she padded outside the bedroom, firmly closing the door behind her.

Feeling protective and more than a little curious, the police officer rapidly put on his trousers and slid outside the room as silently as possible. Tiptoeing on the wooden floorboards to avoid a traitorous crack, he crouched to peek swiftly around the corner of the hallway.

Standing with Claire was the grey-eyed woman he had seen at her house, in the very first night he had visited her, when he had stumbled upon what he believed to be a gathering of witches. The black-haired woman was tall and dressed completely in black, with a large sweater and skinny pants, that made her look willowy.

"There are words to be said between us, Claire." The newly-arrived woman asserted. Although there was nothing particularly threatening about her tone, the hairs on his arms stood on end. "Are ye alone?"

“No.” The owner of Beauchamp’s Cup crossed her arms. “You can’t just appear in the middle of the night, Malva, and expect me to be awaiting you with biscuits laid out.”

There was a long silence in the hallway and Jamie cursed himself soundlessly, realizing he had left his holster and badge on top of the table by the door, inadvertently revealing Claire’s nightly companion.

“I see.” The woman named Malva finally said mellifluously, an oiliness about her tone that made him grit his teeth. “The wee agent is a dishy, I’ll give ye that - but I dinna take ye for a junkie-lover, Beauchamp. Ye ken about his past, no? It’s all over his stars.”

“Keep Agent Fraser out of your mouth, Malva.” Claire answered calmly, her voice stubbornly composed. “Say what you came to say and leave me to my sleep, will you?”

“The last leaves are about to fall from the elder trees. Will ye be challenging me for the Alba Coven leadership?” The visitant spat, her words jumping with barely suppressed anxiety and anger.

Jamie gripped his fists, impatiently waiting for Claire’s answer, which followed a humourless chortle.

“I never wanted to be High Priestess, Malva.” He could sense the growing tension between the two women, even shielded from their gaze by the wall. “And I certainly don’t want it now. You’ll remain unchallenged, as far as I am concerned.”

“As long as ye live, Claire - the last of the Moriston’s - I am disputed. Yer mere existence is a claim on its own, don’t ye see?” Envy and resentment dripped from her words directly into Jamie’s ears. “They’ll have me, only because they canna have ye.”

Adso suddenly bolted across the corridor, almost bumping into Jamie’s legs in the process, running towards the front door while hissing madly.

“Yes, I believe she is leaving, my dearest.” Claire clearly addressed the temperamental feline, her melodic voice poised and tranquil. “You’re unsettling my familiar, Christie. Have a good night.”

“Oh, one last thing - I almost forgot.” The viperlike witch hummed, delighted. “Lizzie Wemyss is dead. I believe she was a friend, aye? I heard just before I came. Of course, yer mate would ken it already, if he kept his tadger inside his pants.”

***

Lizzie Wemyss was indeed Claire’s friend; their parting kiss had been moistened with her tears, as soon as Jamie got the call for the latest crime scene. He had pretended not to have witnessed the puzzling conversation between the two conjurers, greeting Claire from the bed where she had left him, before his phone buzzed ominously.

Just short of thirty, Lizzie’s fair hair had turned scarlet with her own blood, as she curled like a newborn at the centre of her living room. The air was burdensome, with a scent that wasn’t yet of death, but of life sprinting away in a flash of red.

Denzell Hunter and John Grey were already inside when Jamie arrived, both their faces muted and miserable at the thought of another victim to add to the harrowing tally.

“More of the same.” Detective Hunter sighed, nodding curtly to acknowledge Jamie’s arrival. “If we dinna put a stop to Edinburgh’s Demon soon, the director will demand my scalp and bollocks to decorate his fuckin’ Christmas tree.”

“Nothing out of the ordinary.” John’s gloved hands exhibited two books about wiccan practice, which he had retrieved from the victim’s shelves. “She surely fits victimology.”

“I have been thinking.” Jamie’s eyes scanned the scene thoroughly. “And I’m willin’ to bet that the murderer is a woman. Ye wouldna open the door to a complete stranger - but ye definitely would to a good friend; or at the very least, a lass ye were familiar with, maybe pretending she were in trouble and seeking help.”

“That certainly changes things.” Hunter chewed on his cheek, thoughtfully. “I’ll let the lads on patrol now, so that they can keep an eye out for - weil, whatever.” He shook his hands, incapable of describing in any synthetic way what they should be looking for exactly, before he stepped out of the room.

“That is one strange looking candle.” Grey said after a while, indicating with his finger a tall candle which stood on the corner, its wick untouched.

"That candle has some meaning to the witches." The red-headed criminal profiler pointed. "Claire Beauchamp has one just like it in her bedroom."

Too late, Janie realized he had slipped and revealed much more than intended - he had just exposed his secret to a man trained not to miss it.

"You're sleepin' with the witch, aren't you? A person of interest in this investigation?" Grey shook his head, incredulous and slightly angry. "Christ, Jamie! Of all the risky and inadvisable things for you to do - what were you thinking?!"

"I needed to get to her." Jamie answered in a low rumble. "To gain her trust and find what she truly kens about the murders."

He felt sick in his wame and utterly shameful for uttering such words out loud. For making another soul believe he would use Claire in such a manner. But what could he say to his partner, that wouldn't complicate things even further?

I want her. I need her. I thought I was cured of needing, of yearning, but she has proven me wrong.

"That's fairly cold, no?" The blonde man raised a brow. "And a tad despicable? Not something I'd expect from you at all, Fraser."

"Sometimes ye need to find unorthodox ways of getting the job done, John." Jamie rebuked, striving to maintain a sense of aloofness. He was known as a fairly cynical bloke - if competent and reliable - in the corridors of the Yard; it was part of the appearance he had mastered to hide the deep crack inside. "I'm no' afraid of getting my hands dirty."

“And what have you shagged out of the woman, then?” The Londoner officer glared at him, aghast. “It better be worth your career if Director Gowan gets word of it.”

“I think the murders are all about a power struggle.” Jamie breathed deeply. “As most things are in our line of work. Just a different kind of power, perhaps.”

[dopescotlandwarrior]

Bluegrass-Chapter 11

               A special thanks to @statell​ for everything you do for my stories

Previous chapters on AO3

Chapter Eleven

The following day, Jamie drove Michael to look at a car. It was perfect for his needs and he paid cash for it. Once they were done, Jamie suggested dropping in on Claire and he would just stay after their visit. Michael was all for a glass of whisky and texted her they were on the way.

Claire heard two vehicles pull up to her stairs and went outside to welcome the men into soft comfortable chairs on her patio. Jamie looked at her for a long minute, appreciating the long cotton dress she wore and hair up in a ponytail. She took his breath away, but was soon snapped out of his reverie with a glass of whisky. The three of them seemed happy and relaxed and the whisky flowed. Stories about training horses and buying quality broodmares were shared and Jamie laughed while telling how he acquired the Runner’s dam.

“It was ridiculous inching up with another bidder. That fucken guy was so cheap it was turnin into torture for all of us. I decided to offer the askin price and Chad could kiss my ass.”

“Wait!”

Claire put a hand to her chest and took a deep breath.

“Did you say Chad? You outbid Chad, Jamie”

“Aye, he was plenty pissed too. I told him to grow up and find another mare.”

Claire stood up and paced around her patio. Suddenly it all made sense. That’s why Chad went out with her, to get information about Jamie, or Runner. She sat down and stayed quiet until Michael left, and she was plenty worked up by that time.

“Maybe Chad had something to do with poisoning the horses, Jamie. I don’t know how yet, but I always wondered why he wanted another date when we didn’t seem to get along.”

“I know him, how could he slip in and poison the feed without someone seein him?”

“I don’t know and forgive me for saying this, but I think Isobel had something to do with it too. Only because her horse was not affected. Porcelain was not poisoned but she did beg me to get her away because she was afraid of Isobel.”

Jamie got very quiet and listened to Claire feeling the truth in what she said.

“It was a sudden trip to Scotland she went on, maybe she was afraid of bein implicated, so she left. I remembered she cried and carried on for days when she got home. An exaggerated response because she couldn’t give two shits for those horses.”

“Why is she staring at Runner in the middle of the night. What can she gain from hurting him?”

“I don’t know Sassenach, but it’s time to push her a bit and hope she makes a mistake. Right now I need yer body mo chridhe. Come inside, I have somethin to show ye.”

Claire was hungry for him and peeled his clothes and boots off slowly and then worshiped his naked body until he almost came in her mouth. He pulled her away from him and told her to remove her dress while he watched. She slipped out of the dress and waited.

“Bra and panties too, love.”

She stood in front of him raking her eyes over his gorgeous body.

“Come here.”

When Claire was seconds away from her orgasm, Jamie heard Molly come in and the front door close. He covered Claire’s mouth with his hand and pushed her off the cliff she was on, keeping his hand in place until her moaning stopped. She gave him a come fuck me look and he tumbled into his own hurricane of release, heroically quiet.

Most of the next day, Claire and Runner worked with Michael, giving Jamie some time to consider the Chad connection and possibly Isobel. He picked up the phone and dialed Ned Gowen. The older gentleman’s voice gave Jamie goosebumps and made his heart hurt. Ned had been a friend of the family for decades and his voice reminded him of home.

“Yes laddie, I added terms to your contract with Dunsany for the dissolution of marriage. Ye havena married the lass and doesna sound like any possibility in the future. If you want her out, tell her to leave. The loan contract was signed by you and Dunsany. Isobel was not a signer and as long as you are current on yer payments, she canna force you to sell. It may be harsh for Isobel, but she is entitled to nothing.”

Jamie couldn’t believe his ears and struggled through the rest of the conversation. He wanted to get up to the house and pack all of Isobel’s belongings right away. Isobel could rent an apartment somewhere, but he wasn’t paying for it. Maybe this was enough to drive her back to Scotland.

Fortunately, he gave it some thought before impulsively kicking Isobel out and though it was a dreaded phone call, he decided to touch base with Dunsany. He had given Dunsany double and triple payments when his foals and yearlings sold, consequently he was far ahead in paying off his debt. He hoped that would count for something. It was the dinner hour in Scotland, so he made the call before he lost his nerve.

Dunsany was not surprised at this development in the relationship of Jamie and his daughter, in fact, it was expected.

“If Isobel has taken no interest in your breeding business than it stands to reason she will not share in the profits. She isn’t smart enough to realize this so I imagine you will have quite a time with her. If she wants to come back to Scotland, her mother will welcome her with open arms. If she decides to stay in Kentucky I will pay for her housing. You can pass that along to her please and I will wait to hear from her.”

“Jamie, I financed your operation because you acted honorably, agreeing to marry Isobel when she was with child. I make money with honorable men every day and knew this was a good investment, no matter the turn out between you and my daughter. So far I was right, although I’m not happy with the doubling up on your payments, it's costing me too much in interest. You can pay your monthly installment or pay me off so I can reinvest.”

That was all there was to it. Jamie hung up the phone feeling like a man freed from four years of imprisonment and couldn’t sit still with his happy energy. He went out to watch Claire and Runner, also getting some sunshine on his face.

Claire was breezing and Runner was open-mouthed from her holding back on the bit. He wanted to bust out and gallop, it was obvious how much he loved to run. Jamie smiled as they came closer. Michael called to her to move him eight feet to the left and Claire was able to direct him with no problem. Other horses were working out and when three of them came close to Runner he pinned his ears back and almost broke out of Claire’s control. She let him accelerate a bit but still held him back.

Jamie sat against a tree and dialed Isobel.

“Something important has come up Isobel. I need you to call me back right away.”

Jamie closed his eyes to the bright sun and wondered what kind of shit storm Isobel was going to cause over being kicked out of the house. He picked up his vibrating phone.

“What is it, Jamie.”

“I need ye to come home as soon as ye can. I’ll be packin your stuff tonight because ye are movin out of my house. Yer father said he will pay your housing if ye stay in America, or ye can go home to Scotland.”

“You must have hit yer head today if you think I’m leavin with nothin. Ha, that’s rich Jamie. You will pay off the loan to my father and sell the farm so we can split it. Then I will leave happily.”

“By contract, you are entitled to nothin. You are not a signer on the finance agreement, more importantly, you have not contributed five minutes of your time to this business in the four years we have been here.”

“Bullshit! I am not stupid Jamie Fraser.”

“I think ye should call yer father and stay calm so he can explain it to ye. I’ll pack yer things and ye can take what ye need for the short term. You can stay in a hotel until ye find suitable housing or go home. If ye don’t come for your things tonight I will leave them outside the door for ye.”

“No!” Isobel was shrieking into the phone, so loud that Jamie held his cell away from his ear. “No, you canna do this to me, fuck ye. I will be home for dinner and bed like every night.”

“Perfect, I could use some help gettin it all packed. Goodbye Isobel.”

When Jamie looked up, Claire and Michael were staring at him. They could hear Isobel from the track. Claire jumped off Runner and pulled his saddle off. She gave Jamie a long look as she walked to the wash rack.

Jamie ran after her and helped kneed Runner’s muscles with his permanent smile. Claire had never seen him so happy.

“I am very curious about what has made you so happy.”

“I am movin Isobel out of my house, tonight. She isn’t happy about it but I’m doin it anyway. I spoke to Ned Gowen earlier and he told me the financing contract was signed by Dunsany and me, not Isobel. If we had married, the property and assets would be split according to Kentucky law. Failing to marry means she has rights to nothin. Her father will support her so she’s not in the streets and maybe she will go back to Scotland. I can only hope.”

They walked out into one of the pastures to enjoy the Indian summer warmth and let Runner chow down on grass. Jamie touched her cheek and then kissed her.

“Jamie, I can’t stop thinking about Dustin today. Can you think of a reason he doesn’t call or email me? I’m curious about how he is doing, and I miss him. It hurts my feelings that he just forgot about me after being attached at the hip for almost two years.

“He loves ye Sassenach. I imagine he’s suffering with a broken heart and talkin to ye will make it worse.”

Claire looked at him like he lost his mind.

“It’s true, love. I saw it the first day you were here. He will come around when he’s ready.”

Claire was deep in thought when they walked back. She wondered if it were true about Dustin and wondered why she never noticed. Jamie kissed her deeply and said he would be fighting with Isobel all night so he would not see her after work. He held her for several minutes, one last kiss, and she was gone.

Jamie stared at the enormous job of packing all the clothes, makeup, lotions, shampoo, and a thousand other things. This was way bigger than he estimated, and he would need a ton of boxes. He dashed into town and bought a dozen boxes in three sizes. Coming back, he saw Isobel’s Cadillac in the driveway and took a deep breath.

Isobel walked swiftly toward him looking like she would stab him in the face if she could.

“What are all those boxes for?”

“I told ye, yer movin out tonight. I suggest ye find a suitable hotel to stay at until ye find somethin to rent.” He moved toward the bedroom and started building the boxes. When the tape gun made that horrible noise, Isobel snapped. She grabbed the tape gun and kicked the boxes all over the bedroom.

“I’m callin the police to arrest ye, ye piece of shit!”

Jamie grabbed another box but could not get the tape from Isobel. It looked like she was having a stroke with her purple face and wide eyes. Jamie walked back to his truck where he had a second tape gun and then started on another box.

“I’m callin Jenny. She will stop this, she is at least sane.”

“Enough Isobel! Stop acting like a spoiled four-year-old! You have hated every minute in Kentucky, I can’t remember the last time you were here, and there’s no reason for ye to stay. None whatsoever. I’m not sellin the business and yer father doesn’t want any more double payments. I know ye lied to me about being pregnant, if ye don’t get out tonight, yer father will know as well. Now you can help me or leave me to my task.”

“Ye prick!” With that Isobel ran out the door and sped away in her Cadillac.

Jamie continued until he saw Michael at his bedroom door looking like he had seen a ghost.

“What’s wrong with ye Michael?”

“Did you tell Isobel I was staying in the guest room for a while?”

“I did, well I sent her a text message ye were here, why.”

“I doubt she read it. She came bursting into the house like hellfire was chasing her. She called someone and paced like an animal while she talked. She told this person he was an idiot and if he hadn’t botched the poisoning this would all be over. She also told him she was getting kicked off the property, so it was now or never.”

“Holy shit.”

Jamie sat on the bed and stared into space for several minutes. Both men were shocked by what Isobel revealed not knowing Michael was in the house. Jamie grabbed his phone and dialed Angus hoping the guys had not left yet.

“Angus, can ye and Rupert wait to leave until I get there. There are big developments and I need yer help. I’ll be right there.”

The men assembled in the office and Jamie explained what Isobel said on the phone before asking for ideas.

“Do ye think the poisoner is comin back to finish the job, Jamie?”

“I think this person still wants to hurt me, whether it be poison again or some other terrible thing. I don’t know why Isobel’s presence here will facilitate the guy, but she seems to think so.”

They continued thinking about what might happen and after fifteen minutes Isobel was calling.

“Isobel.”

“I never want to see your face again Jamie Fraser and if you get near me, I’ll call the police and tell them you tried to kill me! I must get my tack out of the barn, so I need a passcode. I’ll be in and out and you can watch from your ridiculous cameras if you want. But if you come near me, you’ll spend the night in jail. So give me your code.”

“8246 star.”

“Do I get to say goodbye to Porcelain Love?”

That’s a different code, its 7933 pound.”

Isobel clicked off without another word. Jamie was shaking with rage. Rupert and Angus were incredulous at what Jamie did, giving her his code. Michael figured it out and smiled.

“If I’m right gentlemen, she intends to give the code to the poisoner so he can finish the job. We know it’s happening tonight so if we take positions in different areas of the compound, we can catch the bloke in the act. As soon as you see him stop at a stall ye jump him. I have a feelin he’ll be headed straight for Runner so let him pass through if he is headed that way.”

“It’s a little daring Jamie. He could easily squirt poison into the water, and we might not even see that in the dark.”

“We should empty the water in each stall. They can handle it for a few hours. And Michael, ye will not be joining us tonight. You don’t need to risk yer neck for a job that doesn’t even pay ye.”

The men were all shaking their heads at the plan and figuring out where they could hide.

“We have another hour of daylight so ye guys get some dinner and a beer, only one beer please.”

Jamie took out a fifty and handed it to Rupert. “When ye come back, you need to hide yer truck Rupert. I’ll leave my truck in the driveway and you pull into the garage and shut the door. Since we don’t know when he’s comin, be silent after dark.” He tossed Rupert the remote to his garage.

The men disbanded to eat and get ready to catch the man that killed five of Jamie’s horses. Jamie argued with Michael on the way back to the house refusing his request to participate.

Jamie laid on his bed and called Claire to fill her in.

“I’m coming over Jamie.”

“No, yer not lass. I would be too worried and distracted with you here. We will get him tonight, I’m sure of it. Isobel has done a fine job of setting him up to be caught. I love ye Sassenach, don’t worry. I will call ye when we catch him.”

“Any time of night Jamie, I doubt I’ll sleep until I know you’re safe, and Runner too.”

“Lass, ye put me ahead of Runner, ye know what that means don’t ye? It means ye love me more than him.”

“I do love you more than anyone in the world. Please be careful.”

Jamie watched the monitors until he heard a light tapping on the front door.

“Claire, what are ye doing here?”

“I’m coming so I can prevent Runner from jumping his stall walls.” She put her hand up at Jamie. “You know the risk of him seeing someone at his stall in the dark. I will crouch down under his water bucket and keep him calm while you catch the guy. No one will see me.”

“Where is your truck?”

“It’s in the lower pasture, well hidden. I hiked up here.”

“In the pitch-black outside, no moon to light yer way? Yer in big trouble lass, let's go.”

As Jamie pulled the door closed, he felt it open again as Michael slipped out to join them.

“I’m coming too.”

Jamie looked at Claire and Michael, both dressed in black and shook his head.

“Silence as we walk.”

Michael hid in the breeding wing, Angus near the entrance door, Rupert on the long aisle. Claire was crouched under Runner’s empty water trough. Runner could not figure out why she was down there and pestered her to race him. She convinced him to lay down in his straw and showed him multiple images of him winning races. Before long he was snoring and the wait began. Jamie logged into the cameras and watched them closely. He had shut down the lights near the entrance so the man would be at ease coming inside. Most of the lights inside were off as well. With all the darkness, the night vision cameras would find him easily.

It was a grueling three hours later that Jamie saw a dark figure approach the keypad and then duck inside. Angus saw him right away and watched him closely. Rupert saw him move down the aisle and Jamie was right, he was heading right for Runner’s wing.

“Sassenach, he’s comin, stay down and quiet.”

Jamie pushed against the wall so he would be on the other side of the door when it opened. He heard the beeping keypad and tried to slow his heart. The door opened slowly, and the dark figure moved toward Runner’s stall door. When he opened the stall, Jamie slammed the door closed and turned on a light. The figure twisted and lunged at him. His arm was raised above his head, and there was a large syringe in his hand. The man slashed at Jamie with the syringe.

When Claire heard the stall open, she almost fainted. He was coming into the stall! She concentrated on images to Runner to keep him asleep. When the lights went on and the door slammed, she jumped up and watched Jamie in a struggle to save his own life.

Jamie reached up and grabbed the man’s forearm and kicked him viciously in the nuts and then pounded his face with his fist, three hits directly to his jaw and the man went down. Claire grabbed the syringe out of his hand and found a safe place to put it. She put her arms around Jamie who was panting from the fight.

“Sassenach, do you have that size syringe in yer truck?”

“Yes and the needle too.”

Rupert and Michael piled in the door and looked at the man. He had a ski mask on which Jamie pulled off to reveal Chad Remington.

“Rupert, go with Claire to her truck and hurry. Angus, turn the water main back on to refill the buckets.

Claire was back in short order with the syringe and needle. She filled the syringe with D5W, a harmless fluid, and looked at Jamie.

The man was tied to a chair and slapped awake. As Claire tied off his bicep and slapped the inside of his elbow to bring up a vein. She pulled the syringe out of her jacket pocket and pulled the safety cap off. Without saying a word, she bent forward and inserted the needle while Chad thrashed in his chair.

“Now then, ye worthless asshole, suppose you start at the beginning with poisoning the horses two years ago.”

Chad ordered Jamie to call the police, willing to face charges to get away from him.

Jamie brought his face close enough to Chad’s he could feel him breathe. Jamie put his thumb on the plunger and growled his question, “start at the beginning or I empty this syringe into yer arm.”

Chad was clearly terrified of the syringe and started sputtering about meeting Isobel at the Keeneland auction two years ago.

“We started sleeping together and I confessed how much I hate you for stealing the broodmare. She hated you and she hated Kentucky, but you wouldn’t sell the farm because your breeding program was making money. She wanted to cash out and get away, I wanted to cripple yer business. Killing your horses would satisfy both of us.”

Jamie couldn’t take another word and smashed Chad’s face with his fist, knocking him out. He left the wing and walked the aisle briskly, trying to calm down. Claire caught up to him and hugged his waist asking him to slow down. She could feel him shaking and spoke softly to him.

“It’s almost over sweetheart. One more person to identify and we can call the police to haul him away. We need to know who helped them poison the horses.”

Jamie exhaled and shook his head. They came back with smelling salts from the emergency medical kit and revived Chad.

“Sorry, I lost my temper for a minute and these blokes held me back from pushin that plunger in yer arm.” Jamie put his thumb on the plunger and told Chad to just give him a reason. “Who helped ye poison the horses. It wasn’t you, so who?”

Chad stared at Jamie but was silent until Jamie jumped forward and pushed the plunger a bit. Chad screamed as five cc’s were injected into his bloodstream.

“It was Yvonne! You hired her to manage the feeding, but she worked for me. She was in love with me and would have done anything I told her. She wasn’t happy staying on two weeks after you found out the horses were poisoned but she did it because I told her to.”

Jamie sneered at Chad and pushed the plunger all the way down. Chad was screaming as he watched the solution disappear into his body. Chad knew there was enough tranquilizer in the syringe to kill a twelve- hundred- pound horse and he would be dead in a matter of seconds. He was hyperventilating and screaming until he passed out.

Jamie pulled the syringe from his arm in disgust and then reached for his phone.

Sometime later Isobel pulled up to the driveway, thoroughly pissed off that Jamie left her boxes on the street. He had sent her a text an hour before telling her to come get them or the borders could have them. She had not reached Chad to come and help her, so she pushed and grunted to move the boxes toward her trunk.

“It looks like you could use a hand.”

Isobel squealed in her shock to hear someone on the road with her on this dark early morning.

“Jesus Christ, you scared me.” When she looked at where the voice came from a police officer came out of the dark and walked toward her while pulling out handcuffs.

“What the hell are you doin?”

Jamie came out the front door and looked closely at the vilest woman he had ever known.

“Yer goin to jail Isobel, along with yer lover Chad who told us the whole story. I’ll donate all this stuff because I’m told yer lookin at up to ten years. Nothing could make me happier.”

Isobel was screaming at Jamie to help her, but he walked into the house and closed the door.

Rupert and Angus were quick to leave, needing a little sleep before they came back for a full day of work. Michael begged off to his room thinking he would easily fall asleep tonight.

That left Jamie and Claire. He held out his hand and hugged her.

“Will ye stay with me tonight mo chridhe?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

They stood under a hot shower not willing to let each other go and soap up. She kissed her hero and felt her heart in her throat at the way he looked at her. He bundled her up in fluffy towels and held her close in bed. Neither wanted to make love after such a day. So they slept in their embrace and felt protected from the world by the other.

Jamie felt Claire’s movement several hours later. He watched her dress and asked her to stay with him.

She kissed him deeply and touched his cheek.

“See ya soon.” She left quietly to find her truck and her way home to change.

Two officers came to the compound the next day and took testimony from each of them. There would be more required of them in the near future, but this was enough to charge Isobel and Chad. Later that day, the officers were able to find Yvonne at Chad’s facility. She was arrested, charged, and sent to jail to await trial.

Claire worked on stats of the horses she would race that day. She was in her silks after weighing in and felt very determined after their disqualification in New York. There were ten horses in the stakes race, Sham was among them. Claire smiled and said a silent thank you knowing Runner would do anything to beat Sham.

Claire turned and smiled at Jamie as she was ponied to the gate. Runner was coming out of the fifth position, right in the middle of ten horses. Claire suggested he hang back for a few seconds to avoid the chaos. When the gate slammed open Claire was in her jockey position and finally asked Runner if he intended to run the race. Almost like an afterthought he jumped onto the track and loped like a rodeo horse falling even further behind. Claire told Runner that Sham was in first place so he better hurry and that was her last thought before he bounded into the turn and took off.

Claire was worried he had dallied too long. It looked impossible to run past the clump of horses and overtake Sham. “We’re going right up the middle big guy,” she yelled, and directed him to shoot straight up the middle of the pack. It was something the crowd would not soon forget. The dark horse coming out of dead last to run up the middle of an eight-horse clump at a staggering speed and overtake the leader, Sham.

Runner told Claire to tuck in from the start and when she peeked around her, she saw no horses. She looked ahead, no horses.

“Jesus Christ Runner, you are all alone. Hurry!” Claire looked ahead at the finish line and the camera blinded her again. “You won the race! Holy crap, there had to be five or six lengths between you and Sham!”

Claire pulled him back and waited for the ha-haha-ha-ha as he passed Sham, still at a full gallop. Claire came around the turn and saw Jamie and Michael smiling like the blinding sun. She stood in her stirrups and pointed her crop at them before pulling Runner back in earnest.

Three weeks later they were racing at Keeneland Park for the Breeder’s Futurity Stakes. Claire could see Jamie was right about better horses as they continued down the road to the Kentucky Derby. They were still running the prep races and Claire shivered to think what the super six would be like.

They were ponied to the third position in the gate and Claire was tense and ready when the gates slammed open. Runner let the others go first but quickly jumped onto the track. Claire could feel how tense he was and coming into the turn he took the wrong lead, slowing him considerably. Claire asked him for the left lead, and he changed it quickly. She didn’t know how to help him but as he came out of the turn his body stretched forward and she could feel his leaping gallop. She tucked close to him looking for trouble ahead every few seconds.

The crowd went wild watching the big black horse turn on his power and run ahead of the others at a blinding speed. Runner took the lead with the closest horse right on his butt as he ran across the finish line. Claire pulled him back while going a little crazy he had done it again. There was no showing off for the horses he beat. Runner obediently slowed down and a track pony was able to stop him quickly. Claire’s heartfelt sad for Runner because he didn’t have fun like he usually does. After the winner’s circle picture, she jumped off and held his face. He told her he was tired and he missed Jason. Claire took a double-take at this asking why he missed Jason, but Runner was being led away by Michael.

Claire jumped into Jamie’s arms kissing him while smiling hard. The number of spectators that gathered to congratulate Claire after the race was growing. She smiled and thanked them as Jamie led her into the stall area where Michael was washing the colt. She held his face and saw pictures of Jason rubbing him with a towel and throwing a blanket over him when he was wet. Claire wondered how they would find a groom like that. Michael was clearly not doing it right.

One man waited outside for Runner to emerge and be loaded into the trailer. The horse was accompanied by the owner, trainer, and jockey, and the man was thrilled. He identified himself as a writer for Sports Illustrated and fired a dozen questions off which were answered by one of the three. The man’s name was William Nock and he had Runner in his sights. The reporter returned to New York that night and blazed through his first article about the incredible stallion, Midnight Runner. He would be trackside for his next race in Florida, at Gulfstream Park.

Claire talked to Jamie when they were alone in the truck. She told him Runner was not happy about today’s race and he wanted Jason back.

“Who?”

“The groom you hired in New York. Runner showed me pictures of everything Jason did for him and he wants that touch again. It’s cold outside and Michael walks him without a blanket after the race and doesn’t rub his muscles, so they cramp up. I love Michael but we need a better groom.”

“I’ll look into it Sassenach. He won one-hundred thirty thousand today, so he gets the best groom. He kissed her and smiled.”

Over the next week, Jamie looked for an outstanding groom, talked to five or six that were still available but could not find anyone who did the treatments Jason did. He made a bold phone call to the track in New York and left a message for Jason to call. Later in the day, Jason returned the call and Jamie made him an offer.

“Come to Kentucky to be our groom for the rest of the races. It’s all travel until the winter break so you’ll be living in hotels, but we will feed ye well and pay all your expenses plus five-hundred a week cash.”

“No kidding?” Jason’s excitement came through the phone. “I love Runner and can’t wait to get out of New York! Heeeell ya!”

Jamie laughed at Jason’s exuberance and felt something release inside of him. He was still getting used to his new freedom. The happiness, the chance to love Claire and let the world know she was his. Why not give Runner the support he wanted to make him happy too?

The oppression of living with a hateful woman was slowly seeping out of him being replaced with happiness and hope. Jamie lived with secret doubts about Runner’s chance to get to the super-six races. He wanted to believe in him that much, he tried to believe, but in the end, he just didn’t. His gut told him great things didn’t happen to him because he was undeserving, not good enough, a pretender. Those were Isobel’s words that had been hurled at him for four long years. She was gone now and he was healing, feeling like himself again. Jamie was content to know however many races Runner had left, he would arrive to the race and exit the race a happy horse with his favorite groom.

[the--highlanders]

16. Fairy

on ao3.

“I’m not quite sure -” The Doctor stopped, leaning over with his hands on his knees, breathing hard. “What you think you’ll accomplish here, Jamie.”

“I want tae see the faery well,” Jamie said flatly. “Come on, ye have us runnin’ from beasties all over the place an’ ye cannae even climb a wee hill?”

The look the Doctor gave him was witheringly doubtful, and he laughed. “I dare say I’m a sprinter. Anyway, it’s not such a little hill.”

It was true, as much as it pained Jamie to back down from the banter. Glancing behind them, he looked down over the forest stretched out below. The bare trunks that surrounded them slowly receded behind the slope, vanishing amongst the tops of the trees further down the hill. Across the valley below, the city they had walked up from was tucked amongst the leaves, even its great, bulbous buildings seeming small from their height and distance.

“Alright, then. Not such a little hill.” He tucked the Doctor’s arm into his, pulling him onwards. “But I meant what I said. We’ve had worse than this.”

“Alright, then,” the Doctor repeated back to him, smiling. “And it has been a rather pleasant walk. I’m just not so sure about your chances of finding anything.”

“It’s no’ about finding something,” Jamie said. “Just about goin’ to the place.” The Doctor gave a little non-committal mumble that fell just short of sounding like agreement. “Ye don’t get it.”

“I do,” the Doctor insisted hastily. “But do you really think there’s a – a -” He sighed. “Well, it’s not exactly a faery, is it? This isn’t Earth.”

“No, it’s not. But it’s close enough.”

“But do you really think there’s something up there?”

Jamie shrugged. “Nila said there was. Why should I doubt her?”

The Doctor fell silent, blinking at him. “But there’s no proof,” he said at last, as painfully plaintive as if Jamie had insulted him.

Jamie blinked back at him. “Does there have tae be?”

“Well -” The Doctor wavered from side to side as he walked, tapping his hands together. “I understand that you believe in these things, Jamie, but I simply -”

“Think I’m wrong?”

“Can’t,” the Doctor said firmly. “It isn’t that I don’t believe you. Oh – well – I don’t believe in it – you know what I mean,” he finished awkwardly, flapping his hands as if they could end the sentence for him. “Cultural context, and all that. We see things differently.”

“Oh, aye.” Jamie hooked his fingers through his belt, mulling it over. “So last week – with the Cybermen -”

“When you thought the Cyberman was the phantom piper, yes.”

Nudging at the Doctor’s side, Jamie stuck his tongue out at him. The Doctor pulled a face in return, and they grinned at each other for a moment longer, frustration smoothed out by silliness. “Och, I know it wasn’t that, now. An’ I wasnae exactly thinking straight then, so I wasnae thinking of that. No, I meant – when Polly came up with sprayin’ them. I’d said about holy water, an’ she said -”

“Ah! Yes, I see.” The Doctor nodded. “That’s what I mean, we – we think of things differently, because we come from different places.” He paused, sighing to himself, almost deflating. “But – that isn’t quite it, either, is it? It isn’t like you think Nila’s people are faeries because they can do things that people in your time couldn’t imagine. That would be cultural context. But you’ve never even seen this place. There’s nothing for you to need a – a folklore, or a mythology, to explain.”

Jamie watched him finish rambling with a touch of amusement. “Are ye done tryin’ tae analyse me?” If he had learnt anything from travelling with the Doctor these past two weeks, he thought, it was that he was an odd creature. Clever – too clever for his own good sometimes – but somehow with a knack for missing the obvious. “I’m just interested, that’s all. Why shouldn’t I believe Nila that there’s a faery up there? You’ve trusted her with most other things, here.”

The Doctor stared back at him in disbelief. “Because there isn’t any proof!”

“I didnae see any proof that the sun made those big wheels go round, but ye believed that, alright.”

“But that’s different.”

“Alright, alright.” Jamie held his hands out, as if to placate the Doctor. “So ye say ye need proof tae say there is somethin’ up there. But can ye prove there’s not a faery?” He felt a rush of satisfaction when the Doctor spluttered and floundered, but no coherent words emerged from him. “An’ if ye really want to know, I’m walkin’ up here ‘cause it reminds me of a place I used tae visit.”

“Oh?” The Doctor perked up at that. “What sort of place?”

“They used tae call it Càrn Mòr. Full of trees, but ye could see these big ditches an’ things – an’ bits an’ pieces of a wall runnin’ round it, like.” He traced out a circle in the air. “Dunno if it was a faery or a giant or a man who lived there, but it was there, alright. No’ natural. I used tae walk to it, sometimes. Took a few hours there an’ back, but it was worth it, tae stand there an’ wonder.”

“So you’re walking up here as a sort of a -” The Doctor screwed up his face in thought. “A pilgrimage, because of that place?”

Jamie swiped at him, though he grinned as he did so. “You’re overthinkin’ it again,” he said. “Ye must’ve had faery stories, an’ things, where ye come from. ‘Cause – if your people are so clever that they forgot tae believe in somethin’ else -” It unnerved him, if truth be told, though he did not dare tell the Doctor so. But he could not help thinking of the schoolmasters he had heard of at home, the way they had emptied boys’ heads of stories and filled them with what they thought was good sense, and he shuddered. Not for the first time, he thanked whatever good fortune he had that he had been left to his father’s piping school, and to his mother’s tales. “That’s sad, I think,” he said instead.

“Oh – Oh, I suppose we had stories, about deep time -” The Doctor frowned at Jamie’s triumphant grin. “But that’s different! It was all history. It was true.”

“So’s this tae Nila,” Jamie pointed out. “So’s the faery stories tae me. Maybe it’s just a different sort of history than you’re used to. Did ye ever think of that?”

The Doctor’s silence told Jamie that the answer was no, but he could not bring himself to say it. “I’ve tried awfully hard,” he said slowly, “to think about things differently. Not to be – ah – judgemental, I suppose. To accommodate.”

“I don’t want ye tae accommodate,” Jamie said softly. He had hardly expected the Doctor to come over all serious about it. There was a vulnerability to his expression that he had not seen before, like something about Jamie’s confidence in the faeries had shaken him. “It’s no’ like there’s somethin’ wrong with me, just ‘cause we don’t believe in the same things.” It wouldn’t be nice, he told himself, to have a dig at the Doctor when he was looking so worried – but maybe it would make him smile again. “Cultural context, an’ all that.”

The gamble paid off better than he had hoped, and the Doctor laughed. “Cultural context,” he repeated. “Yes, I suppose it is. I am sorry. Old habits, you know.”

It was not a schoolmaster standing before him in the shape of the Doctor, Jamie thought, but one of the schoolboys, running up against something he could not understand and wondering what to do with it. “’S alright.”

“And who am I, to say that there’s not a faery up there?”

Jamie grinned. “That’s the spirit.”

“So tell me.” The Doctor folded his arms, corners of his mouth twitching – but with fondness, not derision. Not even disbelief. “What else do you believe?”

“Well.” Of course, now he had asked, Jamie was left scrambling around for something – anything – to tell him. “Och, I’m not a good person tae ask. There’s much better storytellers than me.” He had been so caught up in the madness of the past couple of weeks that he had almost forgotten to be homesick, but in that moment he found he missed the people he had once known, and missed them desperately. It ought to have been his mother, he thought, walking up that hill, endless stories on her lips, off to collect another one. But it was just him, left with broken pieces of her words. “See – my mathair, she used tae tell me this story, about the King of the Otters...”

[whiskynottea]

The Ripple Effect

Previously Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

AO3

Previously (Chapter 7)

“You left me behind without any explanation! Do ye ken how it is to live as half a man? To have the ghost of your happiness following you everywhere, a constant reminder of your smashed dreams?”

“Do I know? Do I know?” I repeated, unable to think of anything else. “OF COURSE I DO! IT WAS THE SAME FOR ME, TOO.”

Jamie opened his mouth ready to reply, but pressed his lips instead and took a step back. Squaring his shoulders, he asked me in a cracked voice, “Why are ye back?”

Letting a breath out, I replied. “I needed to explain.”

“Then do.” He said, his voice cold and removed, insulating himself from what would follow.

“I left to protect you. You and me both.”

Chapter 8. The Explanation

source

If Jamie ever looked like a highland cow, it was at that moment. His hair had dried, falling on his forehead and almost covering his eyes as he moved towards me. His gaze underneath the red locks was angry, wild, and lost, all at the same time.

“Wha, Wha, What?” Jamie blurted out, stopping himself at the last moment as he walked towards me. He was two steps away, hands clenched in fists. “What are ye saying, Claire?”

“I am saying,” I swallowed back the fear and continued, “That I left because I had to, not because I wanted to leave you. You… You should know I would never leave you,” I finished in a trembling voice, pushing the heels of my hands against my eyes to shed away the awful memories.

“Ye had to leave, ye said, to protect me,” Jamie repeated as if in a trance. “Are ye mad woman? Protect me from what? From being too happy?” He grimaced in pain, a hand running through his head.

“Jamie. It’s a long story. Can you please at least sit down?” I wanted him to be as calm as possible, so I could maybe – maybe – eventually get myself together.

He sat on the edge of the bed, his fingers impatiently drumming on his thigh, waiting for me to start explaining.

It was impossible for me to sit. I started pacing back and forth, trying to figure out how to begin.

Four steps from the armchair to the kitchen table, four steps back. A deep breath. Four steps forth. Four steps –

“Will ye talk, woman? Or do ye plan to walk a marathon here in front of me, just for the pleasure of torturing me?” Jamie growled.

I stilled myself with great difficulty and watched him in the eye.

“I came in Scotland five years ago.”

Good. Start from the beginning.

“God, ye’ll tell me the story of yer life now? I ken that!” He said impatiently. Actually, the word impatience was too small to describe Jamie Fraser at that moment.

“Will you let me talk, you bloody Scot?”

He laughed at that, my favorite swear bringing back memories of good times. “Aye, talk, Sassenach.”

Jamie gave me the gift back, and I acknowledged that. Sassenach. One word and I found the strength to go on. “When we first met, I told you I had left London because I needed a change. Do you remember?”

He nodded, whispering a “Yes”. His eyes had lost their anger and he looked at me solemnly, his furrowed eyebrows making his effort to understand obvious.

“This was what they advised me to say, Jamie.” I closed my eyes, listening to the wild beating of my heart.

Make him forgive me. Make him understand.

“I wanted to tell you the truth. I’m not good at lying, you know that.”

“But you managed to lie, just fine,” he interrupted me, his voice venomous, poisoning my heart.

“Jamie… When I first met you, I didn’t know you well enough to trust you and… when I got to know you I couldn’t find it in me to tell you.”

I took a deep breath before speaking again. Jamie remained silent, although I could imagine that he was burning inside, listening to me say I didn’t want to share everything with him. Even if this ‘everything’ I kept from him was only pain and anguish. I could hear his racing thoughts, and I couldn’t stand it. I opened my mouth blurting out everything, as fast as I could. I had to make him understand.

“I was afraid, I was so afraid Jamie, I didn’t know if it was over, he’s crazy you know, a maniac really, and then they told me not to tell anyone, I didn’t want to make you a target, so the less you knew the better, I shouldn’t leave traces behind and I was sure this was for our own good, to protect you and then time passed and I kind of forgot it, not really forgot it but I moved on and – ”

“Claire!” He stopped me. “I canna understand a word ye’re saying. Who is crazy, why were you afraid, who told ye not to talk to me.” He rose from the bed and came to me, each step bringing him closer and calming him down. When he stood in front of me, he placed both hands tenderly on my arms. “What happened to ye, a nighean?’”

“I… I… I left London because…” I could hardly speak, each word grazing painfully my sore throat.

“Yes?” Jamie asked in a soothing voice and I felt the tears welling up in my eyes. 

No, don’t bloody cry now.

“I had a patient. A nice, kind guy, so young – so bloody young. He had lung cancer. The CT scan and PET showed that we could move to a surgery. We had time, cancer hadn’t spread yet.” I knew he didn’t need to know all these details, but I was transferred back at the hospital, seeing the light in Alex’s eyes again, as I announced that the tumor was amenable to surgery and we would get to it as soon as possible.

“I did the surgery. I couldn’t go for a full lobectomy, so I aimed to a wedge resection. Recurrence is more frequent after wedge resection. We decided to follow the surgery up with radioactive iodine brachytherapy. We did well, the results were great, he was getting better. He really did.” I could almost see Alex’s smile again in the thought that he’d leave the hospital and he’d have a normal life again. A future that never came to happen.

“Until we found another carcinoma. We did the DNA tests, he had a mutation in a proto-oncogene – one we didn’t have any available drug to treat with. Dr. Alexander MacGregor, the medical oncologist – ” My voice broke and I felt one of Jamie’s hands trailing up to my face, to erase the tears that were now running free. “Oh, Jamie. MacGregor did his best, we all did our best, but we couldn’t save him.” Sobs were wraking my body and Jamie hugged me tight, his lips lost in my hair whispering soothing words in Gaelic. “Alexander Randall was the first patient I lost,” I said, and saw Jamie through the tears in my eyes.

“So ye came here, trying to forget about him?” His voice was soft and kind. Supporting me.

I shook my head. “No. There’s more than that. You see, Alex Randall had an older brother.”

The mere thought of this man made me want to run away again. I didn’t want to talk about him. I didn’t want to remember, or to think of him ever again. But he was there, in every nightmare, in every shadow I saw.

“Jonathan Randall, Black Jack is what everyone called him. He is…” I felt the bile moving up my throat and paused, my lips tightly pressed, taking deep breaths through my nose.

I was with Jamie. I was safe now. 

He wasn’t safe though, because I had bloody come back.

“Oh God, this is such a terrible mistake. I should shut the fuck up and stay in France. I shouldn’t come back.”

“IN FRANCE? Ye were in France?” Jamie exclaimed, but stopped in his tracks when his eyes saw the darkness in my eyes. “Anyway. Ye’re wrong. Ye should be here with me and ye did right to come, mo chridhe.”

Oh, how I’ve missed these two little words leaving his lips, coloring the world around me.

“No, no Jamie. You don’t understand. Black Jack, Alex’s brother, is mentally unstable, and a gangster nonetheless. When Alex died, he blamed us for his death. He insisted this was our mistake, that we lied about the surgery and the radiotherapy, that we could have saved him if we wanted to. But we couldn’t, Jamie. We couldn’t.”

“I know, mo ghraidh. I know. Ye did yer best, dinna think of it any longer.” Jamie was drawing circles with his fingers on my back, his words strong, reassuring. He believed me.

“Black Jack threatened us repeatedly, after that. We found notes in our mail, phone calls counting down our living days, I even found a knife  on a print with the anatomy of the heart once, in my locker at the hospital. ‘Picture your heart instead’, it read. I don’t know how he managed to do that. MacGregor had the same problems, only he had a family and the threats were aiming his family as well. We reported the incidents and sued Randall for harassment and emotional distress. A few months later all threats stopped, and we were informed that he was imprisoned for life, for severe child abuse. Totally irrelevant with our case, but we were safe.”

“So? Why did you leave?” Jamie asked, restless.

“Six months ago, Black Jack was paroled, somehow. He has high connections or something, Alex had mentioned that when he was in the hospital. He admired his older brother so much. I don’t know how Black Jack managed to be paroled, but he is free again and he, he…” 

I felt my heart crumble and my knees went weak. Jamie supported my weight, moving me to the armchair with a strong arm around my waist and knelt down in front of me. He brought his glass of whisky on my lips, and I felt the amber drink’s warmth travel down my throat, setting a comforting feeling in my stomach. It lasted a moment and then it was gone, leaving me even more wrecked than before.

“What, Claire? He what?” Jamie asked, taking the glass from my hands before I’d drop it.

“MacGregor is dead,” I whispered, with my eyes shut, as if opening them would acknowledge the truth of my words.

I felt the cold seeping in my body as Jamie’s hands left me. “WHAT?” He roared. “ARE YE FUCKING CRAZY, CLAIRE?” He was pacing back and forth, both hands covering his face in despair.

Yeah, I shouldn’t have come. Now he’s mad. Maybe it was better when he didn’t know. 

I was ready to talk when he looked at me again, his eyes filled with anger and fear. “He is free, he killed yer colleague and ye fucking left?” He ran his hands through his hair so many times, that it looked like a red flame surrounding his face. “Ye were out there, all alone, with this maniac on your tracks? AND YE DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING TO ME? What if he’d found you, Claire? Oh my God, Oh my God…” He was shaking his head in denial, his hands trembling, extended in the empty air between us.

“I couldn’t stay here, he would eventually find out about you. Paris seemed a safe choice. It would be perfect, actually, if being without you wasn’t so bloody painful.” I snorted and gave him a sad smile. “But I had to protect you from him. He is MY problem. And that’s why I’ll leave again,” I said, determined. “I just wanted you to know. I wanted you to know I love you,” I finished, trying to find the courage to leave his apartment.

“DID I ASK FOR YER PROTECTION?” Jamie’s voice rang through me, hoarse from shouting. “God, Claire, did I ever tell ye that your problems arena mine as well? Did I ever tell ye that ye dinna mean the world to me? Only thinking that ye might as well be dead now… That ye were in danger and I was sitting here, in my misery, blaming ye for leaving, thinking ye might love someone else… And ye with your stupid notions thinking that ye protect me by being away. What about me, Sassenach?” He came close to me again, breathing hard, trying to tame his fury. He placed a hand on my cheek and said in a surprising low, broken voice, “What if I wanted to protect you?”

“You couldn’t. You can’t, Jamie. I won’t have your life hanging from a fine line. I’m leaving again.”

“Ye’re not going anywhere,” he hissed through gnashed teeth. When I didn’t reply, he spoke more forcefully. “D’ ye hear me? Ye’re staying here with me.”

“I can’t,” I insisted.

“Do ye still not understand? Ye belong with me, Sassenach, as I belong with ye. No maniac, crazy, psycho will ever change that. We’ll fight him, but we’ll do it together.”

I laughed at that. A bitter, sorrowful laughter. “We can’t. No one can fight him. He’s looking for revenge and his revenge has my face now. I won’t sacrifice your life for no reason.”

“He can take his thirst for revenge and stick it up his butt,” Jamie declared triumphantly, making me laugh again. A real laughter this time, one only he knew how to elicit in my darkest moments. “My life has your face, Claire. And I’m not leaving anyone’s revenge to take it away.”

His voice was low and he leaned forward until his lips found mine, claiming me back from fear and despair. Forcefully stating that I was his and his only.

I let myself be, forgetting everything as he enveloped me in a bear hug – safe, and whole, and loved.

After what felt like minutes but could be hours later, I spoke again. “Jamie, I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you, love.” My lips were on his again, the moment I saw that lopsided smile on his face, the one I had fall in love with years ago. The one I was still in love with.

“Aye, I ken that now, Sassenach.” He trailed a finger along my jaw, before it got lost in my hair. “I canna forgive ye though, for putting yerself in danger while leaving me behind, an ignorant fool.”

“You’re not a fool. You never were.”

“Claire,” he said. “Promise me something. No more secrets from now on.”

“Jamie...” I looked him straight in the eye, knowing that I had to rip my heart out and do it like it was a happy dance. “There is no ‘from now on’ for us.” My throat was dry. “I can’t stay,” I said in a strained voice. 

“D’ ye think that I will let ye go again?”

I didn’t get to reply, feeling his tongue on my lips again, his need to feel me overwhelming me.  

“This has nothing to do with what we think or want, Jamie. This is what we need to do to survive,” I said, once I found my breath again.

“I dinna want to survive without ye. I want to live with ye.” His voice was loud and strong, filling the room.

“That’s why I left last time, without telling anything to you. Because you, you stubborn Scot, you wouldn’t let me go if you knew.”

“That’s quite right,” Jamie said, his arms tightening around my waist, pulling me closer to him.

“No, it’s – ” The words were trapped inside my mouth, mingling with his breath as he stopped me with yet another kiss, his own way to say shut up. My mind was screaming at me to leave now, while I still could, but my stupid body responded to his as it always did, eager to be one again.

“I need ye. I need to have ye now, Claire.”

I shook my head frantically, knowing that there would be no return after this.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Jamie whispered after each negative shake of mine.

“We shouldn’t – ” I tried to voice my thoughts instead of the ineffective non-verbal negation.

“Shut up,” Jamie mimicked me, his thoughts loud enough to make me laugh. 

The next moment I was up in the air and on Jamie’s shoulder, as he carried me to bed.

He got rid of our clothes in mere seconds, leaving me sprawled on the bed, with the cold duvet underneath my naked body and his warmth-emanating frame on top of me. Without wasting more time, he got himself deep inside me with a single thrust, anchoring me to him. His teeth were on my neck, sucking hard, taking toll for all the months of absence, as his soul was whispering to mine, until the only sounds leaving our mouths were whimpers, moans and whispers of each other’s name.

“This is how you protect me, mo ghraidh.” he whispered, thrusting again and again. “Take me inside you and save my soul, as you always did.”

I heard myself calling out his name, as my muscles contracted against his hard length, feeling his release leaving me alive again.

Alive and fearless.

Chapter 9

[atombonniebaby]

I suppose this is as good a day as any to share my OCs prologue chapter! I have already done a 'War Never Changes' piece for @falloutober but it's literally the title of the chapter 👀

War Never Changes

Sanctuary Hills October 23, 2077.

Deep red leaves rustled in the crisp autumn air as the sun began to creep up over the hillside, casting a murky haze over the serene show of contemporary suburban living, America's "Homes of the Future." The residents of Sanctuary Hills lived in blissful ignorance as the world held its breath to the ever-present threat of Nuclear Devastation. Amidst the suburban sprawl, the morning sun warmed the cheeks of Nathanial Alasdair Watt, Nate to his nearest and dearest.

Nate leaned over a dusty blue cot, his eyes not quite believing that the soft and squishy bundle snoring away was his son. Months old already, how long would it be before he would be chasing after him around the cul-de-sac? With a lingering glance over Shaun, Nate slipped out of his room and stepped into the hallway, closing the door softly behind him. The house was quiet, and Nate's footsteps echoed in the empty hall, leading him to the kitchen.

"Ah, Master Nate! Good morning, sir!” Codsworth chirped, his eye stalks flitting in greeting. "Your coffee. 173.5 degrees Fahrenheit. Brewed to perfection!"

"Ah'll take yer word for it," Nate yawned, a fond smile spreading across his face as he reached for the steaming mug of coffee.

"Ah, of course, my apologies, Sir. 78.61 degrees Celcius!"

Nate snorted. "I flunked maths, son. Just say it's hot."

Codsworth let out a chuckle. "Ah, I forgot, the young miss is the brains of the operation."

"Aye, that she is. But she'll no be without a proper feedin'. Could you go rouse her for me?" Nate asked.

"Of course, Sir! Right away!" Codsworth trilled, floating away towards El's room.

"Good luck wi' that," Nate muttered, shaking his head. El liked her sleep, that one.

Nate chuckled, running a hand over his head, and frowned at the resistance. Big speech tonight. He could hardly rock up looking a scruffy mess, could he? With a sigh, he set his mug down and stretched out his back on the way to the bathroom.

"Lemme Sleep, Codsworth..."El's voice drifted through her door.

Ah, to be 19 again. Nate shook his head, smirking to himself as he turned to the closed-over bathroom door, a wide smile pulling in his cheeks when Nora's sweet voice filtered through, Shaun's favorite lullaby on her tongue. Nate would never tire of it or how her voice sent shivers down his spine.

"You're up early. How's my little man?" she asked as he stepped through the door. "I'm assuming you've been in there five times already?"

Nora, even under those horrid fluorescent bulbs, looked stunning. He caught her eye in the mirror she was brushing her hair in and gave her a wink. Nate took a few steps toward her and wrapped his arms around her waist, his lips brushing her neck. She hummed and leaned back into his embrace.

"What can I say, doll? Just like his mother, I cannae believe he's mine," Nate murmured, burying his face in her soft, icy-brown hair. "I keep thinkin' somebody's gonna pinch me, and I'll wake up from this dream."

Nora twisted in his arms, her green eyes sparkling. "You're a wonderful father, Nate. You shouldn't doubt yourself!"

"I hope so," Nate said, his ears growing hot. Nora knew him too well, and his bashful side never could stand up to her praise.

"I think Beth would agree with me. I mean, you practically raised that girl!"

Nate ducked his head and pressed a kiss to her nose. "She dotes on you, ye ken? She won't admit it, but she does."

"I like her too. I'm glad she's here. Now, care to explain why you interrupted my morning ritual?" Nora teased.

"I need some pamperin'," he raised his eyebrows. "Cannae hae this 'decorated war hero' looking like common street riff-raff, now can we?"

"Hmm," Nora smirked. "I dunno, that rugged Viking look is growing on me, Nathanial."

"Ooh, using my full name, eh?" he teased. "Am I in trouble, then, Mrs Watt?"

"You're always trouble, Nathanial Watt," Nora giggled.

"Tell the truth, doll. That's the real reason you married me, wasn't it?" Nate smirked. "That and the accent, aye?"

She rolled her eyes and gave him a playful shove away, returning to the mirror. Nate's grin lingered, his hands sliding to her waist. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head and rested his chin upon it, gazing at her reflection. She met his eyes, a warmth and tenderness reflected at him.

"I love you, lass," he murmured against her hair, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "More than I can say."

Nora didn't speak, only leaned back, melting against him, a familiar gesture that spoke volumes. Nate's arms tightened, and he closed his eyes, wishing they could stay like that forever.

"Go get your trimmer; I'll at least neaten you up a little," Nora said, her voice thick. "Then, I'll see about breakfast."

Nate pressed one last kiss to her head and drew a sharp breath. "Yes, ma'am."

"—war never changes,” Nate sighed, the steamy air heavy with the weight of his speech.

“You're gonna knock 'em dead at the Veteran's Hall tonight, hon,” Nora purred, her fingers massaging the knots from his shoulders.

"Ye think?" Nate relaxed against her touch, letting his eyes flutter shut.

"Absolutely. Now get ready and stop hogging the mirror..."

"Right," Nate snorted. He stepped away and let Nora take his place. "You might want to fix the buttons on your blouse, love."

He couldn't help a small smirk tugging on his lips as she re-buttoned her blouse, not quite meeting his gaze.

"Wipe that smug look off your face, Mr. Watt! You're the reason I never get anything done around here!" Nora teased.

Nate couldn't help bursting out laughing. "Why dae ye think I bought Codsworth?"

"Out!" Nora laughed, pushing him towards the door.

"Love ye too, darlin'." Nate gave her a mock salute and stumbled out of the bathroom.

"Miss Elspeth, breakfast was served thirty minutes ago!" Codsworth's muffled voice met him through the opposing door.

"Codsy! Bugger off!...and 'ave told ye… it's Beth!" came El's equally muffled reply.

"My, my. For such a brilliant young mind, Miss Beth, your language leaves much to be desired."

"Get tae fuck, or I'll turn ye into a toaster!" El spat back, a bit louder this time.

"By God! I don't believe General Atomics programmed me with enough patience for this!" Codsworth sighed.

"I'll handle this." Nate interrupted, opening the door.

"Good luck, that child's got the mouth of a drunkard."

"I'm weeks away from twenty ye daft bucket o' bolts!" El retorted.

Codsworth sighed, bobbing past him a little less chipper than before. Poor bugger.

Nate chuckled and shook his head. Wearing that damn onesie, she was akin to an overgrown toddler in a babygro. El glared at him, her hazel eyes flashing with a fire that reflected his own, her cheeks flushed, auburn hair still a tangled mess, reminding him exactly why he opted for a smooth dome.

"Arse. Up. Now. Or I promise you I'll cancel that comic subscription I already reluctantly pay for."

El's eyes narrowed, a defiant glint remaining, a slight smirk curving her lips. "Ye wouldnae dare."

"Try me," Nate raised a brow and folded his arms. "And to rub it in, I'll replace it with one about all the latest fashion trends, braw big frilly skirts and whatnot..."

"Fine. Ye win." El rolled her eyes, sauntering past him.

"Smart move," Nate smirked.

"Bite me!" El snapped, stomping into the now vacant bathroom.

Nate chuckled, shaking his head, and approached the kitchen, his stomach growling in anticipation.

"Breakfast is served sir," Codsworth set down a plate of eggs and toast.

"Thanks. And if ye need the afternoon off to recharge after the morning ye've had, you take it!" Nate smirked.

"A good show of humor, sir, but with a steady supply of Mr. Handy fuel, I am proud to serve!" Codsworth chirped.

"Attaboy."

"Your thoughts?" Nora's voice drifted over him, snapping his attention back to the present.

Nate blinked, glancing at his wife. She was studying him, her brows knitted. Damn. "I'm worried about her, doll. She won't admit it, but she's been having trouble sleeping again. I cannae remember the last time I saw her without dark circles under her eyes."

"She's just stressed. It's been a big year for her. Why don't you take her away for a few days? It's been a while since you two had time together," Nora suggested. "You could take a little road trip or something?"

"Aye, I'd been considering it, but I can hardly leave you with the wee one, can I?"

"I've got Codsworth to help. And besides, Shaun's not exactly a handful." Nora grinned, nudging him. "Take her. Trust me, she needs it."

Nate chewed his lip, his brows furrowed. Maybe she had a point. El had always loved his impromptu adventures.

"Okay, I'll talk to her about it—"

"Talk to me about what?" El asked, walking into the living room, her frown deepening as she looked between them. "I'm sorry! I know I've been—"

"No, stop right there! " Nate shushed her. "Ye don't go apologizing...I know you've been overloaded lately with all your projects."

El shrugged, dropping onto the couch beside him, her eyes fixed on the TV. "Yeah, I guess. It's just a lot, and I—"

"Deserve a break? Me and Nora reckon you've earned one," Nate grinned, nudging her. "So, how about we take off in a day or two? It's been a while since we've done a drive together, just you and me?"

"Wait, you're serious?" El stared at him, a smile breaking across her face, but her frown returned as she turned to Nora. "You're okay with that?"

"Are you kidding? Some peace and quiet, hell yeah, I'm okay with that," Nora barked a laugh. "And Codsworth's here to help, so I'll be fine."

"I like her, Nate. Can we keep her?" El smirked.

Nate's laughter bubbled, shaking his head. "Aye, she's a keeper, alright."

Nora gave them a fond smile, rising from the couch."Alright, you two, I'm going to help Codsworth tidy up, give you time to plan."

"Thanks, love," Nate's fingers curled hers as she pulled away, before turning his attention back to El.

"So, short-stop, any votes on where ye want tae go?"

"Laurey, Virginia—"

"The Caverns, again, lass?" Nate's eyebrow quirked.

"Come on, it's been months since we went to D.C. We could do a day trip to Laurey and then spend the rest of our time exploring the Capital!"

"Fine, but that damn mole costume is stayin' put!" Nate chuckled.

"She looked adorable in that thing. Never know, maybe she'll catch someone's eye!" Nora's laughter floated over them from the kitchen, and Nate grinned.

El blushed, her hand rubbing against the back of her head sheepishly. "I'll stick to studying, ta—"

"Quite right. I don't think there'd be many nerdy, bookworm Spelunkers out there that could put up with your pish!" He couldn't resist.

El's nose wrinkled, and her eyes narrowed. "Thanks for the vote of confidence—jackass."

Nate snorted and leaned back, his arms draped over the back of the couch, tuning into the TV.

The same usual shite.

A knocking came to the door, and Nora sighed. "It's probably that salesman. He's been trying all morning, insisting he talks to you."

"Oh, great." Nate rolled his eyes and lurched out of the sofa.

An all-smiles fella in a trenchcoat greeted him when he opened the door, stepping forward. "Good morning! Vault-Tec calling!"

"Sup, chief," he deadpanned, leaning against the doorframe.

"You can't begin to know how happy I am to finally speak with you. I've been trying for days. It's a matter of utmost urgency, I assure you," the rep explained.

Nate frowned—something about the guy's tone made him nervous.

"Alright, son, I'm here now."

"So you are, so you are,' the rep chuckled. "I'm here today to tell you that because of your family's service to our country, you have been pre-selected for entrance into the local Vault. Vault 111. I just need to verify some information. That's all! Don't want there to be any hold ups, in the unforeseen event of *ahem*...total atomic annihilation."

"But there's room for my entire family, right?"

"Of course. Of course! Minus your robot, naturally."

"Oi, Codsworth is family!" El retorted, appearing at his side, her eyes narrowed. "He's a wee gem! We can't just leave him!"

Nate's hand fell upon his sister's shoulder, squeezing it. "General Atomics promised Codsworth could survive anything, even a nuclear blast," he reminded her, her sentiment mirrored in his heart. "Go. I've got it from here."

El nodded, a defiant glint remaining in her eyes, but she stepped aside.

Nate glanced at the rep, his unease growing."All right, let's have it."

"Splendid, splendid. Let's get to it. Just need you to fill out this paperwork, and we're all done. Won't take but a moment."

The rep pulled a clipboard out of his briefcase and held it out towards him.

Nate frowned, his jaw tense, glancing down at the stack of papers. He took the clipboard and scanned the pages, his frown deepening.

"What makes me 'S.P.E.C.I.A.L?' That's a bit on the nose, is it no? And this whole damn thing seems a wee bit excessive, no offense, son."

"None taken! It's simply a matter of determining what roles you may be able to undertake in a new life underground!"

"Well, lucky for us, we have a certified vault technician in our fold. My sister just finished her Masters at C.I.T. Did a whole project around Vault safety and maintenance," Nate couldn't help the proud smile creeping into his cheeks.

"Masters? At C.I.T?" the rep's eyebrows shot up. "My, my, that's impressive."

"Aye, she got the brains of the family. I clearly got the looks," Nate joked, handing the clipboard back to the rep. "Think that's everything, chief."

"Wonderful! That's..." he skimmed over the documents, smiling. "Yes, indeed, that is everything... just gonna walk this over to the Vault! Congratulations on being prepared for the future!"

"Aye, thanks..." Nate forced a smile, his jaw still tense. "Now, if you'll excuse us, I have a wee one who needs a bit of a feed."

"Of course, have a great day, sir, ma'am!" The Vault-Tec rep tipped his hat and strolled off, the tension in the man's shoulders not lost on him.

He watched the rep go, his instincts prickling as he stepped back inside."Something aboot that didn't sit right, did it, El?"

"I didn't like it, Nattie. You don't think he's doing this because—"

"Elspeth, don't get him started," Nora interrupted, her voice strained. "It's just a precaution, that's all."

Nate swallowed his throat tight. "Maybe ye're right, doll, but just in case, we should double-check the go bags."

Shaun's wails rang through the house. Cutting through his words, Codsworth followed.

"Master Nate. Shaun has been changed, but he absolutely refuses to calm down. I think he needs some of that "paternal affection" you seem to be so good at."

"I've got 'im." Nate smiled and strode down the hall, his unease lingering. Nora's footfalls followed.

"Right, ye wee gremlin," Nate teased, sweeping a finger over Shaun's cheek. Shaun's cries grew fainter, his teary gaze fixed on Nate.

"Spin the mobile a bit. He loves that," Nora cooed, stepping up beside him.

Nate gave the mobile a gentle spin. Shaun's gaze drifted to the spinning rockets, green eyes wide, and his cries now soft whimpers. Nora brushed Nate's arm with her hand.

"Maybe we should go out later, a walk in the park?"

"And miss the World Series on TV? Not going to happen." Nate smirked. "But tomorrow, I'm all yours! I promise."

"I'll hold you to—"

"Sir? Mum? You should come and see this!" Codsworth's urgent voice drifted over them.

Nate frowned, exchanging a glance with Nora. "Codsworth?"

"I've got Shaun," Nora assured him, scooping the baby up.

Nate hurried out of the nursery, a knot forming in his gut, his blood rushing. "Codsworth? What is it, son?"

"Sir... the news..."

El was perched on the couch, her knuckles white around her backpack, its contents organized on the coffee table. "They actually did it."

"Did what, lass?" Nate frowned, sitting beside her.

“—followed by... yes, followed by flashes. Blinding flashes. Sounds of explosions..." the news anchor caught his attention. "We're... we're trying to get confirmation…But we seem to have lost contact with our affiliate stations."

"What? What is he saying?" Nora's voice drifted over them. "…Oh no.”

“...We do have... coming in... confirmed reports. I repeat, confirmed reports of nuclear detonations in New York and Pennsylvania…My God.”

The screen crackled, and the signal was lost. Nate's gaze fixed on the 'Please Stand By' screen. His mouth ran dry, a cold sweat prickling across his forehead.

"We have to get to the Vault. Now! Get all that back in the bag. I'll grab the rest." Nate blurted, his heart pounding against his ribs.

"Nattie...I'm scared."

"We're goin' tae be fine, El. We've prepared for this...You two wait for me outside!" Nate instructed, racing into their bedroom.

He yanked open the closet, his hands trembling, hauling out his and Nora's packs, followed by Shaun's. He slung them over his shoulder and hurried through the house for the front door—stopping on the threshold, glancing over his shoulder at Codsworth.

The Mr. Handy's eye stalks flitted over him, and he glided forward. "Goodbye, sir. May I say what an honor it has been to serve you and your family!"

"Ye've done us proud, son...maybe we could—"

"Now, don't you worry about me, sir! You have your family to think about. Go on."

Nate nodded, a lump forming in his throat. "Thank you, Codsworth..."

"He'll be alright, won't he?" El's voice pulled his attention.

He stepped onto the sidewalk and grabbed his sister's hand. "He'll be fine. Now c'mon, we gotta move!"

They raced down the road, Nora ahead of him, Shaun cradled against her chest. Nate swallowed hard, his hand tightening around El's. His mind raced. Vault-Tec. The rep—he knew something was up. That bastard knew this was coming!

"Nattie?" El tugged his arm, slowing.

"We're almost there, lass. Keep moving! Come on, we're nearly there—"

"We're on the list!" Nora's frantic voice greeted them, and Nate frowned as that Vault-Tec rep darted by them.

A soldier blocked their way, checking over a clipboard."Infant... Adult male... Two adult females... OK, go ahead."

Nate's heart pounded. It was real. This was really happening. They climbed the hill and clambered onto the platform, his arms circling Nora and El.

"Almost there, we're gonna be alright. I love you, all of you." Nate murmured, his pulse throbbing in his ears.

"We love you too," Nora whispered, her gaze locked on his.

The sky lit up with blinding white light, and the ground shook beneath their feet. A deafening roar filled the air. Nate's eyes widened as a mushroom cloud grew colossal in the sky. The blast waves thunder towards them, and El buried her face against his chest. He closed his eyes, bracing for impact.

"Send it down now!" a desperate voice shouted.

An orchestra of "Oh gods" and terrorized screams flooded his ears. The platform shuddered beneath them. His arms held tighter.

The blast crossed over them. The screams echoed, his breaths shortening, the pressure around his ribcage suffocating.

He held Nora, his lips pressed to her head, praying she couldn't hear his racing heartbeat.

The light faded, and the shockwave died, his ears still ringing.

The platform shuddered to a halt.

His eyes met Nora's, tears streaming down her face.

They had made it.

"Everyone, please step off the elevator and proceed up the stairs in an orderly fashion," the Vault-Tec security guard that greeted them instructed.

El clung to him as Nate made a move to follow the others, her breaths ragged and short. He glanced at Nora, Shaun sleeping soundly in her arms.

"She'll be okay. We're right behind ye," Nate murmured. "We just need a minute."

Nora nodded, her hand resting on his shoulder. "We won't be far. I'll go find out what's what."

"Be right with ye," Nate murmured, kneeling to meet El's gaze. "Hey, hey, look at me, lass. Look at me. Deep breaths. In and out. Like we practiced."

El's eyes flicked up to his, wide and fearful. She bit her lip, nodding. Her next shaky intake of breath was longer.

"Good, lass. Again. In and out."

She followed his lead, and soon enough, El's breaths steadied as her panic subsided, her grip on his loosening.

"You're a natural," Nate grinned, easing himself up.

El didn't respond and instead stood closer. His arm circled her, guiding them toward the vast cog-shaped doorway that loomed above them. Nate's heart beat faster. This was home now, for better or worse.

"It's impressive, eh? No wonder ye wouldny pipe doon about these Vaults!" Nate quipped.

El glanced at him, a faint smirk pulling in her cheeks. Nate squeezed her shoulder, their footsteps ringing as they climbed the metal stairs.

His eyes found Nora as they crossed the metal walkway. An orderly queue had formed behind her as she was collecting something up ahead.

Nora handed him a sealed bag and another for El. He eyed it, noting the '111' matching the jumpsuits some staff were wearing.

"What, do they no' come in a braw purple or maybe fluorescent green?"

El snorted at that, a wry smile curling her lips, and Nate's heart lifted a little. She was okay.

"Just follow the doctor here. He'll show you where to go," one of the scientists instructed.

"Lead the way, doc."

As Nora chatted with the doctor, El pulled away, her steps a little firmer, her gaze still far away.

Nate was drawn to the sudden bite in the air, a shiver running through him as he followed. People chatted, residents to Vault staff. Everyone seemed as edgy as he felt. They were led to a larger room filled with 'decontamination pods,' he was told as he was led towards one.

His attention pulled back to El, her belongings dropping to her feet. She stepped in front of them as one of the staff members attempted to collect them.

"I'm sorry, miss, but you cannot take your—"

Without a word, El unveiled a lanyard from around her neck and fixed them with a stern eye.

"You're a Vault-Tec intern? Very well, but be assured, vault-tec will not be held accountable if anything were to be damaged or stolen."

El nodded, her jaw set, and Nate couldn't help a smirk. Stubborn wee devil. Nate stripped to his boxers and tugged on his Vault suit, his skin prickling.

"Could ye's no have turned on the heatin'? It's colder than a polar bear's arse in here!" Nate grumbled.

El was already suited in her's when he looked up again, leaning against her pod, shoulders slumped, a blank expression set over her feature—still not back to herself yet.

"Can you hold him?" Nora asked, pulling his thoughts. Shaun curled up against her chest.

"Of course, love," Nate scooped him up, letting Nora get herself situated. He walked over to El, her fingers brushing Shaun's cheek, a weak smile curling her lips.

"Ye gonna be alright in there? I know how you get in tight spaces."

She held up her backpack, patting it fondly. Of course, she was always packed for every occasion.

"Right then, guess we'll see ye soon," Nate tried, giving her a reassuring smile.

"Okay, I can take him," Nora's hand rested on his arm, and Nate reluctantly handed Shaun over and planted a kiss against her cheek.

Nate climbed into his pod, and with a hiss, the lid descended, his breath misting the glass. His eyes locked onto Nora's, her gaze locked on him as her own pod closed, and she bounced Shaun in her arms.

"Just try to relax," the doctor reassured.

Nate nodded, pressing his hand against the glass. "Time for a whole new life."

"Resident secure. Occupant vitals: Normal," a robotic voice filled his ears.

A rush of cold flooded his pod. Nate's pulse spiked, his next breath shuddering.

"Procedure complete. In 5... 4..."

With every beat of the countdown, his vision whitened. Frost intertwined his eyelashes with every blink—everything faded.

Nate blinks away the frost that clings to his eyelashes, stretching his jaw to loosen the remainder of his beard and whiskers. It was a cold that hung as heavy as iron chains. Every breath stung his chest like swallowing broken glass as violent coughs wreck through him.

"...Critical failure in Cryogenic Array. All vault residents must vacate immediately," The computerized voice echoed through the intercom, and a hiss filled his ears.

As the pod door lifts away, Nate's still-thawing limbs do nothing to prevent him from stumbling forward. His knees crack against the slick steel floor, a haze of mist following him. He didn't dare look up, unwilling to face the truth that the nightmare was real. But there was no escaping the memories that assaulted every fiber of his being: Nora's please, Shaun's cries as they tear him from his mother's embrace. Nate's own screams—lost in the deafening Gunshot that silenced Nora and continued to echo as Shaun's heartbreaking wails faded away—the face that mets him and the words that followed:

At least we still have the backup.

"That scar-faced bastard! Why did he have tae—"

"...Critical failure in Cryogenic Array. All vault residents must vacate immediately,"

"Oh, shut up!" Nate yelled as he snapped his head back. "Can ye no see I'm havin' a moment, ye pushy cow!"

Blissful silence filled the chamber once more, and Nate breathed a sigh of relief. As if another entity had taken control of his body, he stood to his full height and ambled forward. His steps were clumsy, and fog engulfed the room as he moved toward Nora's pod. The faint glint of gold caught his eye. Her wedding band shined through the condensation. His fingers trailed over the icy glass.

Nora, his best friend, the woman he pledged his entire life to. Her rosy cheeks were now dusted blue, fear still painted in her expression. Her arms were so painfully absent—Shaun. He's just a baby, and they tore him out of her arms. Nate's knees buckled some, jolting him forward, and he braced himself, breaths coming out in rasps, his lungs constricting, the very walls closing in. His eyes opened over his wedding ring, a matching piece—he'd be dammed if he was leaving her's behind.

"C'mon! C'mon! There has tae be a release!" Nate barked, desperation bleeding into his brogue as he stepped back to take in the pod, reaching for the lever at its side.

His breath held as Nora's pod opened to him. Slowly, reverently, he slipped the ring off her finger, ignoring the spiderwebbing of frosted blood that now decorated her jumpsuit. Together, he joins their bands onto the chain around his neck, keeping them safe with his dog tags, holding them tight in his grasp. The mere sentiment of having them together offers a measure of comfort.

"I'll find who did this, and I'll get Shaun back. I promise."

With a brush of his lips against the cool metal, Nate tucks the chain securely behind his vault suit, and the fog clouding his mind subsides some. All he had to do was get El and get the hell out of this godforsaken ice box.

Shaky hands grip the lever release to El's cryopod, and he is met with an immediate sharp, jolting buzz that has him staggering back.

"Malfunction in Cryo Pod manual release override." A robotic female voice announces over the intercom.

"No-no-no! C'mon! I need tae open this damn thing!" Nate pulls the handle harder. Again, the error noise frays his nerves, not releasing. "Come on!" He presses a palm to the frost-covered glass, feeling the cold sting on his hand. "El!" Tears stream down his cheeks, warm against the cold fog surrounding him. "No. This can't-" His forehead rests against the pod. He closes his eyes tightly and sobs. “Ye cannae do this! I just need tae get El!"

His mind falls back to the terminal those scientist-looking folks were working on when they were after Shaun, how they opened Nora's pod. Nate spins on his heels and sprints forward, almost pummeling into the console as he slides to a halt. Fingers still stiff from his suspended animation, rattle the keys. Nate squints at the screen with a shaky breath, jumping through the entries as quickly as his frozen digits allow.

******** Welcome to ROBCO Industries (TM) Termlink ********

Thank you for choosing Vault-Tec!

>Cryogenic Array: Offline. Premature termination resulting in system failure. Isolated manual and remote overrides detected. Controls disabled.

>Life Support: Offline. Premature termination resulting in system failure. Isolated manual and remote overrides detected. Controls disabled.

Pod Occupant Status

POD C1: Miss Watt

>Occupant status: Deceased. Cause of Death: Asphyxiation due to Life Support failure.

********************************************************************

It takes several moments for him to comprehend the words laid bare.

Every occupant record painted the same picture: Cause of Death: Asphyxiation.

Nate collapses, his knees slamming on the steel, fingers clawing at the frost-covered ground, and a scream rips through him, a blood-curdling wail that echoes out in the empty chamber. Every cell in his body is alight, a sickening, bitter cold fire. His shoulders shake violently, and he balls his fists, pounding them to the floor until his knuckles are raw. He barely feels the biting pain as the fight seeps away, leaving him drained, tears frozen on his cheeks.

Nate doesn't move for a long moment—left alone with his thoughts and the steady Drip. Drip. Drip. of frost melting. His little sister is dead. They're both gone. It would be easy to submit to his grief, crumple over, and lose himself in the pain—but they have his son. He has to find Shaun, even if all he has left is a warped image of a man who ruined his world. A scar-faced bastard whom Nate committed to memory. His fingers curl around the chain of his dog tags, fidgeting the wedding bands between bloodied knuckles, the cold metal grounding him, and as Nate grits his teeth, steeling his heart, and sets his jaw, he stands.

A silent vow plays on his lips: For Shaun. For Nora. And for El. He would rain fire upon whoever took them from him, even if it meant tearing whatever world awaited him apart, one bullet at a time.

He vows it as he looks upon El's face. Russet frost-bitten curls drape across her forehead. A picture so peaceful she may as well be sleeping.

He vows it as his lips graze Nora's cheek before resealing the pod, committing his love's image to memory.

He vows it as his fingers trace Shaun's name, etched in ink within the tan line of his wedding band.

As the Sole Survivor of Vault 111, he has nothing left to lose and everything to fight for.

War Never Changes, and Nate was ready to wage it.

[kingsmanstories]

Missing Pens

Characters: Reader, Merlin, Harry Hart, Eggsy Unwin Warnings: swearing Tags: @missredherring @im-an-elf99 @whirlybirbs @cyber-nya @kingsman-fam (if i forgot anyone i am sO SORRY) A/N: Based on this video. As per usual, I don't know what the hell this is and it’s 1:15am and that’s probably why this was created.

“IT’S FOOKIN’ GONE” 

Incoherent Scottish shouting was heard from the Quartermaster’s office, and you sniggered to yourself as you eyed the pen in your hand. This was your little game, between you, Eggsy and Harry, and everyone in the technical department.

Believe it or not, the biggest pet hate of Merlin’s was losing his pens. Every. Single. Good pen he had went missing, mysteriously. As soon as you all heard his muffled shouts from his office, proceeded by the sound of clanging furniture, you knew you had succeeded in your missions.

“WHERE TH’ FOOK?”

The three of you often took it in turns to nab the pens from his desk, either while he was distracted or while he was completely absent from his office. Today, it was your turn. The funniest thing about it, though? He had no idea.

Harry and Eggsy arrived at your desk, and you followed them to Merlin’s office, where he was in the midst of raiding his desk for the missing writing utensil. “Everything alright, Merlin?” Harry asked in his usual nonchalant tone.

“FOOKIN’ ROBBIN’ THEIVIN’ BASTARDS FOOKIN’ TOOK IT” Merlin shouted, throwing his hands up in the air as she frantically pulled out the draws in his desk, papers scattered all over the floor. You heard a snap of wood, and then a groan. “Now that’s fookin’ damaged.” he said, covering his face with his hands as he knocked over a cup of tea, “that’s leaking out shite now.”

You sighed, mostly in attempt to suppress your giggles. You knew if you even did so much as to look at the other two agents beside you, you’d lose it. “Come on Merlin, it must be somewhere.” 

“Fookin’ goddamn pen just robbed of me, just robbed of me...” he trailed off, looking at the mess around him. “CANNAE HAVE A ROTTEN SODDIN’ THING IN M’ LIFE.” 

“Now, that isn’t true, is it?” Eggsy said in a fake patronising tone, raising his eyebrows. This just enraged the Scotsman even more. 

“TH’ FOOKIN’ MADNESS OF LIFE”

Harry took this as his opportunity to step in. “Merlin look, its only a p-”

“I WANT THE FOOKIN’ THING AND I CANNAE FIND THE FOOKIN-”

There was silence for a moment, and Merlin’s gaze fixed on you. There you was, standing in his office, holding up the pen he had lost, had stolen and...He couldn’t quite believe his eyes.

“Y’ FOOKIN’ CHEEKY-”

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Martha

She thought of the robin and of the way he seemed to sing his song at her, and as she remembered the tree-top he perched on she stopped rather suddenly on the path."I believe that tree was in the secret garden--I feel sure it was," she said. "There was a wall round the place and there was no door."She walked back into the first kitchen-garden she had entered and found the old man digging there. She went and stood beside him and watched him a few moments in her cold little way. He took no notice of her and so at last she spoke to him."I have been into the other gardens," she said."There was nothin' to prevent thee," he answered crustily."I went into the orchard.""There was no dog at th' door to bite thee," he answered."There was no door there into the other garden," said Mary."What garden?" he said in a rough voice, stopping his digging for a moment."The one on the other side of the wall," answered Mistress Mary. "There are trees there--I saw the tops of them. A bird with a red breast was sitting on one of them and he sang."To her surprise the surly old weather-beaten face actually changed its expression. A slow smile spread over it and the gardener looked quite different. It made her think that it was curious how much nicer a person looked when he smiled. She had not thought of it before. Page 7 of 10When she opened her eyes in the morning it was because a young housemaid had come into her room to light the fire and was kneeling on the hearth-rug raking out the cinders noisily. Mary lay and watched her for a few moments and then began to look about the room. She had never seen a room at all like it and thought it curious and gloomy. The walls were covered with tapestry with a forest scene embroidered on it. There were fantastically dressed people under the trees and in the distance there was a glimpse of the turrets of a castle. There were hunters and horses and dogs and ladies. Mary felt as if she were in the forest with them. Out of a deep window she could see a great climbing stretch of land which seemed to have no trees on it, and to look rather like an endless, dull, purplish sea.

"What is that?" she said, pointing out of the window.

Martha, the young housemaid, who had just risen to her feet, looked and pointed also. "That there?" she said.

"Yes."

"That's th' moor," with a good-natured grin. "Does tha' like it?"

"No," answered Mary. "I hate it."

"That's because tha'rt not used to it," Martha said, going back to her hearth. "Tha' thinks it's too big an' bare now. But tha' will like it."

"Do you?" inquired Mary.

"Aye, that I do," answered Martha, cheerfully polishing away at the grate. "I just love it. It's none bare. It's covered wi' growin' things as smells sweet. It's fair lovely in spring an' summer when th' gorse an' broom an' heather's in flower. It smells o' honey an' there's such a lot o' fresh air--an' th' sky looks so high an' th' bees an' skylarks makes such a nice noise hummin' an' singin'. Eh! I wouldn't live away from th' moor for anythin'."

Mary listened to her with a grave, puzzled expression. The native servants she had been used to in India were not in the least like this. They were obsequious and servile and did not presume to talk to their masters as if they were their equals. They made salaams and called them "protector of the poor" and names of that sort. Indian servants were commanded to do things, not asked. It was not the custom to say "please" and "thank you" and Mary had always slapped her Ayah in the face when she was angry. She wondered a little what this girl would do if one slapped her in the face. She was a round, rosy, good-natured-looking creature, but she had a sturdy way which made Mistress Mary wonder if she might not even slap back--if the person who slapped her was only a little girl.

"You are a strange servant," she said from her pillows, rather haughtily.

Martha sat up on her heels, with her blackingbrush in her hand, and laughed, without seeming the least out of temper.

"Eh! I know that," she said. "If there was a grand Missus at Misselthwaite I should never have been even one of th' under house-maids. I might have been let to be scullerymaid but I'd never have been let upstairs. I'm too common an' I talk too much Yorkshire. But this is a funny house for all it's so grand. Seems like there's neither Master nor Mistress except Mr. Pitcher an' Mrs. Medlock. Mr. Craven, he won't be troubled about anythin' when he's here, an' he's nearly always away. Mrs. Medlock gave me th' place out o' kindness. She told me she could never have done it if Misselthwaite had been like other big houses." "Are you going to be my servant?" Mary asked, still in her imperious little Indian way.

Martha began to rub her grate again.

"I'm Mrs. Medlock's servant," she said stoutly. "An' she's Mr. Craven's--but I'm to do the housemaid's work up here an' wait on you a bit. But you won't need much waitin' on."

"Who is going to dress me?" demanded Mary.

Martha sat up on her heels again and stared. She spoke in broad Yorkshire in her amazement.

"Canna' tha' dress thysen!" she said.

"What do you mean? I don't understand your language," said Mary.

"Eh! I forgot," Martha said. "Mrs. Medlock told me I'd have to be careful or you wouldn't know what I was sayin'. I mean can't you put on your own clothes?"

"No," answered Mary, quite indignantly. "I never did in my life. My Ayah dressed me, of course."

"Well," said Martha, evidently not in the least aware that she was impudent, "it's time tha' should learn. Tha' cannot begin younger. It'll do thee good to wait on thysen a bit. My mother always said she couldn't see why grand people's children didn't turn out fair fools--what with nurses an' bein' washed an' dressed an' took out to walk as if they was puppies!"

"It is different in India," said Mistress Mary disdainfully. She could scarcely stand this.

But Martha was not at all crushed.

"Eh! I can see it's different," she answered almost sympathetically. "I dare say it's because there's such a lot o' blacks there instead o' respectable white people. When I heard you was comin' from India I thought you was a black too."

Mary sat up in bed furious.

"What!" she said. "What! You thought I was a native. You--you daughter of a pig!"

Martha stared and looked hot.

"Who are you callin' names?" she said. "You needn't be so vexed. That's not th' way for a young lady to talk. I've nothin' against th' blacks. When you read about 'em in tracts they're always very religious. You always read as a black's a man an' a brother. I've never seen a black an' I was fair pleased to think I was goin' to see one close. When I come in to light your fire this mornin' I crep' up to your bed an' pulled th' cover back careful to look at you. An' there you was," disappointedly, "no more black than me--for all you're so yeller."

Mary did not even try to control her rage and humiliation. "You thought I was a native! You dared! You don't know anything about natives! They are not people--they're servants who must salaam to you. You know nothing about India. You know nothing about anything!"

She was in such a rage and felt so helpless before the girl's simple stare, and somehow she suddenly felt so horribly lonely and far away from everything she understood and which understood her, that she threw herself face downward on the pillows and burst into passionate sobbing. She sobbed so unrestrainedly that good-natured Yorkshire Martha was a little frightened and quite sorry for her. She went to the bed and bent over her.

"Eh! you mustn't cry like that there!" she begged. "You mustn't for sure. I didn't know you'd be vexed. I don't know anythin' about anythin'--just like you said. I beg your pardon, Miss. Do stop cryin'."

There was something comforting and really friendly in her queer Yorkshire speech and sturdy way which had a good effect on Mary. She gradually ceased crying and became quiet. Martha looked relieved.

"It's time for thee to get up now," she said. "Mrs. Medlock said I was to carry tha' breakfast an' tea an' dinner into th' room next to this. It's been made into a nursery for thee. I'll help thee on with thy clothes if tha'll get out o' bed. If th' buttons are at th' back tha' cannot button them up tha'self."

When Mary at last decided to get up, the clothes Martha took from the wardrobe were not the ones she had worn when she arrived the night before with Mrs. Medlock.

"Those are not mine," she said. "Mine are black."

She looked the thick white wool coat and dress over, and added with cool approval:

"Those are nicer than mine."

"These are th' ones tha' must put on," Martha answered. "Mr. Craven ordered Mrs. Medlock to get 'em in London. He said `I won't have a child dressed in black wanderin' about like a lost soul,' he said. `It'd make the place sadder than it is. Put color on her.' Mother she said she knew what he meant. Mother always knows what a body means. She doesn't hold with black hersel'."

"I hate black things," said Mary.

The dressing process was one which taught them both something. Martha had "buttoned up" her little sisters and brothers but she had never seen a child who stood still and waited for another person to do things for her as if she had neither hands nor feet of her own.

"Why doesn't tha' put on tha' own shoes?" she said when Mary quietly held out her foot.

"My Ayah did it," answered Mary, staring. "It was the custom."

She said that very often--"It was the custom." The native servants were always saying it. If one told them to do a thing their ancestors had not done for a thousand years they gazed at one mildly and said, "It is not the custom" and one knew that was the end of the matter.

It had not been the custom that Mistress Mary should do anything but stand and allow herself to be dressed like a doll, but before she was ready for breakfast she began to suspect that her life at Misselthwaite Manor would end by teaching her a number of things quite new to her--things such as putting on her own shoes and stockings, and picking up things she let fall. If Martha had been a well-trained fine young lady's maid she would have been more subservient and respectful and would have known that it was her business to brush hair, and button boots, and pick things up and lay them away. She was, however, only an untrained Yorkshire rustic who had been brought up in a moorland cottage with a swarm of little brothers and sisters who had never dreamed of doing anything but waiting on themselves and on the younger ones who were either babies in arms or just learning to totter about and tumble over things.

If Mary Lennox had been a child who was ready to be amused she would perhaps have laughed at Martha's readiness to talk, but Mary only listened to her coldly and wondered at her freedom of manner. At first she was not at all interested, but gradually, as the girl rattled on in her good-tempered, homely way, Mary began to notice what she was saying.

"Eh! you should see 'em all," she said. "There's twelve of us an' my father only gets sixteen shilling a week. I can tell you my mother's put to it to get porridge for 'em all. They tumble about on th' moor an' play there all day an' mother says th' air of th' moor fattens 'em. She says she believes they eat th' grass same as th' wild ponies do. Our Dickon, he's twelve years old and he's got a young pony he calls his own."

"Where did he get it?" asked Mary.

"He found it on th' moor with its mother when it was a little one an' he began to make friends with it an' give it bits o' bread an' pluck young grass for it. And it got to like him so it follows him about an' it lets him get on its back. Dickon's a kind lad an' animals likes him."

Mary had never possessed an animal pet of her own and had always thought she should like one. So she began to feel a slight interest in Dickon, and as she had never before been interested in any one but herself, it was the dawning of a healthy sentiment. When she went into the room which had been made into a nursery for her, she found that it was rather like the one she had slept in. It was not a child's room, but a grown-up person's room, with gloomy old pictures on the walls and heavy old oak chairs. A table in the center was set with a good substantial breakfast. But she had always had a very small appetite, and she looked with something more than indifference at the first plate Martha set before her.

"I don't want it," she said.

"Tha' doesn't want thy porridge!" Martha exclaimed incredulously.

"No."

"Tha' doesn't know how good it is. Put a bit o' treacle on it or a bit o' sugar."

"I don't want it," repeated Mary.

"Eh!" said Martha. "I can't abide to see good victuals go to waste. If our children was at this table they'd clean it bare in five minutes."

"Why?" said Mary coldly. "Why!" echoed Martha. "Because they scarce ever had their stomachs full in their lives. They're as hungry as young hawks an' foxes."

"I don't know what it is to be hungry," said Mary, with the indifference of ignorance.

Martha looked indignant.

"Well, it would do thee good to try it. I can see that plain enough," she said outspokenly. "I've no patience with folk as sits an' just stares at good bread an' meat. My word! don't I wish Dickon and Phil an' Jane an' th' rest of 'em had what's here under their pinafores."

"Why don't you take it to them?" suggested Mary.

"It's not mine," answered Martha stoutly. "An' this isn't my day out. I get my day out once a month same as th' rest. Then I go home an' clean up for mother an' give her a day's rest."

Mary drank some tea and ate a little toast and some marmalade.

"You wrap up warm an' run out an' play you," said Martha. "It'll do you good and give you some stomach for your meat."

Mary went to the window. There were gardens and paths and big trees, but everything looked dull and wintry.

"Out? Why should I go out on a day like this?" "Well, if tha' doesn't go out tha'lt have to stay in, an' what has tha' got to do?"

Mary glanced about her. There was nothing to do. When Mrs. Medlock had prepared the nursery she had not thought of amusement. Perhaps it would be better to go and see what the gardens were like.

"Who will go with me?" she inquired.

Martha stared.

"You'll go by yourself," she answered. "You'll have to learn to play like other children does when they haven't got sisters and brothers. Our Dickon goes off on th' moor by himself an' plays for hours. That's how he made friends with th' pony. He's got sheep on th' moor that knows him, an' birds as comes an' eats out of his hand. However little there is to eat, he always saves a bit o' his bread to coax his pets."

It was really this mention of Dickon which made Mary decide to go out, though she was not aware of it. There would be, birds outside though there would not be ponies or sheep. They would be different from the birds in India and it might amuse her to look at them.

Martha found her coat and hat for her and a pair of stout little boots and she showed her her way downstairs.

"If tha' goes round that way tha'll come to th' gardens," she said, pointing to a gate in a wall of shrubbery. "There's lots o' flowers in summer-time, but there's nothin' bloomin' now." She seemed to hesitate a second before she added, "One of th' gardens is locked up. No one has been in it for ten years."

"Why?" asked Mary in spite of herself. Here was another locked door added to the hundred in the strange house.

"Mr. Craven had it shut when his wife died so sudden. He won't let no one go inside. It was her garden. He locked th' door an' dug a hole and buried th' key. There's Mrs. Medlock's bell ringing--I must run."

After she was gone Mary turned down the walk which led to the door in the shrubbery. She could not help thinking about the garden which no one had been into for ten years. She wondered what it would look like and whether there were any flowers still alive in it. When she had passed through the shrubbery gate she found herself in great gardens, with wide lawns and winding walks with clipped borders. There were trees, and flower-beds, and evergreens clipped into strange shapes, and a large pool with an old gray fountain in its midst. But the flower-beds were bare and wintry and the fountain was not playing. This was not the garden which was shut up. How could a garden be shut up? You could always walk into a garden.

She was just thinking this when she saw that, at the end of the path she was following, there seemed to be a long wall, with ivy growing over it. She was not familiar enough with England to know that she was coming upon the kitchen-gardens where the vegetables and fruit were growing. She went toward the wall and found that there was a green door in the ivy, and that it stood open. This was not the closed garden, evidently, and she could go into it.

She went through the door and found that it was a garden with walls all round it and that it was only one of several walled gardens which seemed to open into one another. She saw another open green door, revealing bushes and pathways between beds containing winter vegetables. Fruit-trees were trained flat against the wall, and over some of the beds there were glass frames. The place was bare and ugly enough, Mary thought, as she stood and stared about her. It might be nicer in summer when things were green, but there was nothing pretty about it now.

Presently an old man with a spade over his shoulder walked through the door leading from the second garden. He looked startled when he saw Mary, and then touched his cap. He had a surly old face, and did not seem at all pleased to see her--but then she was displeased with his garden and wore her "quite contrary" expression, and certainly did not seem at all pleased to see him.

"What is this place?" she asked.

"One o' th' kitchen-gardens," he answered.

"What is that?" said Mary, pointing through the other green door.

"Another of 'em," shortly. "There's another on t'other side o' th' wall an' there's th' orchard t'other side o' that."

"Can I go in them?" asked Mary.

"If tha' likes. But there's nowt to see."

Mary made no response. She went down the path and through the second green door. There, she found more walls and winter vegetables and glass frames, but in the second wall there was another green door and it was not open. Perhaps it led into the garden which no one had seen for ten years. As she was not at all a timid child and always did what she wanted to do, Mary went to the green door and turned the handle. She hoped the door would not open because she wanted to be sure she had found the mysterious garden--but it did open quite easily and she walked through it and found herself in an orchard. There were walls all round it also and trees trained against them, and there were bare fruit-trees growing in the winter-browned grass--but there was no green door to be seen anywhere. Mary looked for it, and yet when she had entered the upper end of the garden she had noticed that the wall did not seem to end with the orchard but to extend beyond it as if it enclosed a place at the other side. She could see the tops of trees above the wall, and when she stood still she saw a bird with a bright red breast sitting on the topmost branch of one of them, and suddenly he burst into his winter song--almost as if he had caught sight of her and was calling to her.

She stopped and listened to him and somehow his cheerful, friendly little whistle gave her a pleased feeling--even a disagreeable little girl may be lonely, and the big closed house and big bare moor and big bare gardens had made this one feel as if there was no one left in the world but herself. If she had been an affectionate child, who had been used to being loved, she would have broken her heart, but even though she was "Mistress Mary Quite Contrary" she was desolate, and the bright-breasted little bird brought a look into her sour little face which was almost a smile. She listened to him until he flew away. He was not like an Indian bird and she liked him and wondered if she should ever see him again. Perhaps he lived in the mysterious garden and knew all about it.

Perhaps it was because she had nothing whatever to do that she thought so much of the deserted garden. She was curious about it and wanted to see what it was like. Why had Mr. Archibald Craven buried the key? If he had liked his wife so much why did he hate her garden? She wondered if she should ever see him, but she knew that if she did she should not like him, and he would not like her, and that she should only stand and stare at him and say nothing, though she should be wanting dreadfully to ask him why he had done such a queer thing.

"People never like me and I never like people," she thought. "And I never can talk as the Crawford children could. They were always talking and laughing and making noises."

She thought of the robin and of the way he seemed to sing his song at her, and as she remembered the tree-top he perched on she stopped rather suddenly on the path.

"I believe that tree was in the secret garden--I feel sure it was," she said. "There was a wall round the place and there was no door."

She walked back into the first kitchen-garden she had entered and found the old man digging there. She went and stood beside him and watched him a few moments in her cold little way. He took no notice of her and so at last she spoke to him.

"I have been into the other gardens," she said.

"There was nothin' to prevent thee," he answered crustily.

"I went into the orchard."

"There was no dog at th' door to bite thee," he answered.

"There was no door there into the other garden," said Mary.

"What garden?" he said in a rough voice, stopping his digging for a moment.

"The one on the other side of the wall," answered Mistress Mary. "There are trees there--I saw the tops of them. A bird with a red breast was sitting on one of them and he sang."

To her surprise the surly old weather-beaten face actually changed its expression. A slow smile spread over it and the gardener looked quite different. It made her think that it was curious how much nicer a person looked when he smiled. She had not thought of it before.

He turned about to the orchard side of his garden and began to whistle--a low soft whistle. She could not understand how such a surly man could make such a coaxing sound. Almost the next moment a wonderful thing happened. She heard a soft little rushing flight through the air--and it was the bird with the red breast flying to them, and he actually alighted on the big clod of earth quite near to the gardener's foot.

"Here he is," chuckled the old man, and then he spoke to the bird as if he were speaking to a child.

"Where has tha' been, tha' cheeky little beggar?" he said. "I've not seen thee before today. Has tha, begun tha' courtin' this early in th' season? Tha'rt too forrad."

The bird put his tiny head on one side and looked up at him with his soft bright eye which was like a black dewdrop. He seemed quite familiar and not the least afraid. He hopped about and pecked the earth briskly, looking for seeds and insects. It actually gave Mary a queer feeling in her heart, because he was so pretty and cheerful and seemed so like a person. He had a tiny plump body and a delicate beak, and slender delicate legs.

"Will he always come when you call him?" she asked almost in a whisper.

"Aye, that he will. I've knowed him ever since he was a fledgling. He come out of th' nest in th' other garden an' when first he flew over th' wall he was too weak to fly back for a few days an' we got friendly. When he went over th' wall again th' rest of th' brood was gone an' he was lonely an' he come back to me."

"What kind of a bird is he?" Mary asked.

"Doesn't tha' know? He's a robin redbreast an' they're th' friendliest, curiousest birds alive. They're almost as friendly as dogs--if you know how to get on with 'em. Watch him peckin' about there an' lookin' round at us now an' again. He knows we're talkin' about him."

It was the queerest thing in the world to see the old fellow. He looked at the plump little scarlet-waistcoated bird as if he were both proud and fond of him.

"He's a conceited one," he chuckled. "He likes to hear folk talk about him. An' curious--bless me, there never was his like for curiosity an' meddlin'. He's always comin' to see what I'm plantin'. He knows all th' things Mester Craven never troubles hissel' to find out. He's th' head gardener, he is."

The robin hopped about busily pecking the soil and now and then stopped and looked at them a little. Mary thought his black dewdrop eyes gazed at her with great curiosity. It really seemed as if he were finding out all about her. The queer feeling in her heart increased. "Where did the rest of the brood fly to?" she asked.

"There's no knowin'. The old ones turn 'em out o' their nest an' make 'em fly an' they're scattered before you know it. This one was a knowin' one an, he knew he was lonely."

Mistress Mary went a step nearer to the robin and looked at him very hard.

"I'm lonely," she said.

She had not known before that this was one of the things which made her feel sour and cross. She seemed to find it out when the robin looked at her and she looked at the robin.

The old gardener pushed his cap back on his bald head and stared at her a minute.

"Art tha' th' little wench from India?" he asked.

Mary nodded.

"Then no wonder tha'rt lonely. Tha'lt be lonlier before tha's done," he said.

He began to dig again, driving his spade deep into the rich black garden soil while the robin hopped about very busily employed.

"What is your name?" Mary inquired.

He stood up to answer her.

"Ben Weatherstaff," he answered, and then he added with a surly chuckle, "I'm lonely mysel' except when he's with me," and he jerked his thumb toward the robin. "He's th' only friend I've got."

"I have no friends at all," said Mary. "I never had. My Ayah didn't like me and I never played with any one."

It is a Yorkshire habit to say what you think with blunt frankness, and old Ben Weatherstaff was a Yorkshire moor man.

"Tha' an' me are a good bit alike," he said. "We was wove out of th' same cloth. We're neither of us good lookin' an' we're both of us as sour as we look. We've got the same nasty tempers, both of us, I'll warrant."

This was plain speaking, and Mary Lennox had never heard the truth about herself in her life. Native servants always salaamed and submitted to you, whatever you did. She had never thought much about her looks, but she wondered if she was as unattractive as Ben Weatherstaff and she also wondered if she looked as sour as he had looked before the robin came. She actually began to wonder also if she was "nasty tempered." She felt uncomfortable.

Suddenly a clear rippling little sound broke out near her and she turned round. She was standing a few feet from a young apple-tree and the robin had flown on to one of its branches and had burst out into a scrap of a song. Ben Weatherstaff laughed outright.

"What did he do that for?" asked Mary.

"He's made up his mind to make friends with thee," replied Ben. "Dang me if he hasn't took a fancy to thee."

"To me?" said Mary, and she moved toward the little tree softly and looked up.

"Would you make friends with me?" she said to the robin just as if she was speaking to a person. "Would you?" And she did not say it either in her hard little voice or in her imperious Indian voice, but in a tone so soft and eager and coaxing that Ben Weatherstaff was as surprised as she had been when she heard him whistle.

"Why," he cried out, "tha' said that as nice an' human as if tha' was a real child instead of a sharp old woman. Tha' said it almost like Dickon talks to his wild things on th' moor."

"Do you know Dickon?" Mary asked, turning round rather in a hurry.

"Everybody knows him. Dickon's wanderin' about everywhere. Th' very blackberries an' heather-bells knows him. I warrant th' foxes shows him where their cubs lies an' th' skylarks doesn't hide their nests from him."

Mary would have liked to ask some more questions. She was almost as curious about Dickon as she was about the deserted garden. But just that moment the robin, who had ended his song, gave a little shake of his wings, spread them and flew away. He had made his visit and had other things to do.

"He has flown over the wall!" Mary cried out, watching him. "He has flown into the orchard--he has flown across the other wall--into the garden where there is no door!"

"He lives there," said old Ben. "He came out o' th' egg there. If he's courtin', he's makin' up to some young madam of a robin that lives among th' old rose-trees there."

"Rose-trees," said Mary. "Are there rose-trees?"

Ben Weatherstaff took up his spade again and began to dig.

"There was ten year' ago," he mumbled.

"I should like to see them," said Mary. "Where is the green door? There must be a door somewhere."

Ben drove his spade deep and looked as uncompanionable as he had looked when she first saw him.

"There was ten year' ago, but there isn't now," he said.

"No door!" cried Mary. "There must be." "None as any one can find, an' none as is any one's business. Don't you be a meddlesome wench an' poke your nose where it's no cause to go. Here, I must go on with my work. Get you gone an' play you. I've no more time."

And he actually stopped digging, threw his spade over his shoulder and walked off, without even glancing at her or saying good-by.