#I am struggling to find the line for discussing Jamie’s abuse

[jamiesfootball]

I wrote about 2500 words tonight, half for the post-season thing and half for the sleepy jamie Pavlov thing

Only problem is I hate everything I wrote today.

But at least I wrote something and there will be a better tomorrow where I can look at it with fresh eyes and go, ‘Oh, there’s the problem. Now let’s take a crack at it.’

[richincolor]

Voting and YA Lit

The November election is getting closer and closer. If you're eligible to vote and need more information, Vote.org is an excellent place to start. The League of Women Voters also has a First Time Voter Checklist that may be helpful. This year there may be additional challenges to voting, but if you are able, please let your voice be heard through your vote.

In the final two months before the election, you may enjoy some related reading. First, a few YA novels featuring elections or voting:

Yes No Maybe So by Becky Albertalli and Aisha Saeed Balzer + Bray [Group Discussion]

YES Jamie Goldberg is cool with volunteering for his local state senate candidate—as long as he’s behind the scenes. When it comes to speaking to strangers (or, let’s face it, speaking at all to almost anyone), Jamie’s a choke artist. There’s no way he’d ever knock on doors to ask people for their votes…until he meets Maya.

NO Maya Rehman’s having the worst Ramadan ever. Her best friend is too busy to hang out, her summer trip is canceled, and now her parents are separating. Why her mother thinks the solution to her problems is political canvassing—with some awkward dude she hardly knows—is beyond her.

MAYBE SO Going door to door isn’t exactly glamorous, but maybe it’s not the worst thing in the world. After all, the polls are getting closer—and so are Maya and Jamie. Mastering local activism is one thing. Navigating the cross-cultural romance of the century is another thing entirely.

The Voting Booth by Brandy Colbert Disney-Hyperion [Crystal's Review]

Marva Sheridan was born ready for this day. She’s always been driven to make a difference in the world, and what better way than to vote in her first election?

Duke Crenshaw is so done with this election. He just wants to get voting over with so he can prepare for his band’s first paying gig tonight.

Only problem? Duke can’t vote.

When Marva sees Duke turned away from their polling place, she takes it upon herself to make sure his vote is counted. She hasn’t spent months doorbelling and registering voters just to see someone denied their right. And that’s how their whirlwind day begins, rushing from precinct to precinct, cutting school, waiting in endless lines, turned away time and again, trying to do one simple thing: vote. They may have started out as strangers, but as Duke and Marva team up to beat a rigged system (and find Marva’s missing cat), it’s clear that there’s more to their connection than a shared mission for democracy.

Romantic and triumphant, The Voting Booth is proof that you can’t sit around waiting for the world to change, but some things are just meant to be.

Running by Natalia Sylvester Clarion Books

When fifteen-year-old Cuban American Mariana Ruiz’s father runs for president, Mari starts to see him with new eyes. A novel about waking up and standing up, and what happens when you stop seeing your dad as your hero—while the whole country is watching.

In this thoughtful, authentic, humorous, and gorgeously written novel about privacy, waking up, and speaking up, Senator Anthony Ruiz is running for president. Throughout his successful political career he has always had his daughter’s vote, but a presidential campaign brings a whole new level of scrutiny to sheltered fifteen-year-old Mariana and the rest of her Cuban American family, from a 60 Minutes–style tour of their house to tabloids doctoring photos and inventing scandals. As tensions rise within the Ruiz family, Mari begins to learn about the details of her father’s political positions, and she realizes that her father is not the man she thought he was.

But how do you find your voice when everyone’s watching? When it means disagreeing with your father—publicly? What do you do when your dad stops being your hero? Will Mari get a chance to confront her father? If she does, will she have the courage to seize it?

There are also a few YA nonfiction books that deal with activism and voting rights:

How I Resist edited by Maureen Johnson Wednesday Books

Now, more than ever, young people are motivated to make a difference in a world they're bound to inherit. They're ready to stand up and be heard - but with much to shout about, where they do they begin? What can I do? How can I help?

How I Resist is the response, and a way to start the conversation. To show readers that they are not helpless, and that anyone can be the change. A collection of essays, songs, illustrations, and interviews about activism and hope, How I Resist features an all-star group of contributors, including John Paul Brammer, Libba Bray, Lauren Duca, Modern Family's Jesse Tyler Ferguson and his husband Justin Mikita, Alex Gino, Hebh Jamal, Malinda Lo, Dylan Marron, Hamilton star Javier Muñoz, Rosie O'Donnell, Junauda Petrus, Jodi Picoult, Jason Reynolds, Karuna Riazi, Maya Rupert, Dana Schwartz, Dan Sinker, Ali Stroker, Jonny Sun (aka @jonnysun), Sabaa Tahir, Shaina Taub, Daniel Watts, Jennifer Weiner, Jacqueline Woodson, and more, all edited and compiled by New York Times bestselling author Maureen Johnson.

In How I Resist, readers will find hope and support through voices that are at turns personal, funny, irreverent, and instructive. Not just for a young adult audience, this incredibly impactful collection will appeal to readers of all ages who are feeling adrift and looking for guidance.

How I Resist is the kind of book people will be discussing for years to come and a staple on bookshelves for generations.

The March Trilogy by John Lewis, Andrew Aydin and Nate Powell Top Shelf Productions

A graphic novel memoir in three parts. It tells of the Civil Rights movement through the eyes of John Lewis. Readers see Lewis and other activists launching campaigns such as the Freedom Vote and Mississippi Freedom Summer. The books lead all the way through to the Selma March.

And finally, picture books aren't just for children. Here are two picture books young adults would likely appreciate:

The Voice of Freedom: Fannie Lou Hamer by Carole Boston Weatherford, illustrated by Ekua Holmes Candlewick Press

A stirring collection of poems and spirituals, accompanied by stunning collage illustrations, recollects the life of Fannie Lou Hamer, a champion of equal voting rights.

"I am sick and tired of being sick and tired."

Despite fierce prejudice and abuse, even being beaten to within an inch of her life, Fannie Lou Hamer was a champion of civil rights from the 1950s until her death in 1977. Integral to the Freedom Summer of 1964, Ms. Hamer gave a speech at the Democratic National Convention that, despite President Johnson’s interference, aired on national TV news and spurred the nation to support the Freedom Democrats. Featuring luminous mixed-media art both vibrant and full of intricate detail, Singing for Freedom celebrates Fannie Lou Hamer’s life and legacy with an inspiring message of hope, determination, and strength.

Granddaddy's Turn: A Journey to the Ballot Box by Michael S. Bandy & Eric Stein, illustrated by James Ransome Candlewick Press

Based on the true story of one family’s struggle for voting rights in the Civil Rights–era South, this moving tale shines an emotional spotlight on a dark facet of U.S. history.

Life on the farm with Granddaddy is full of hard work, but despite all the chores, Granddaddy always makes time for play, especially fishing trips. Even when there isn’t a bite to catch, he reminds young Michael that it takes patience to get what’s coming to you. One morning, when Granddaddy heads into town in his fancy suit, Michael knows that something very special must be happening—and sure enough, everyone is lined up at the town hall! For the very first time, Granddaddy is allowed to vote, and he couldn’t be more proud. But can Michael be patient when it seems that justice just can’t come soon enough? This powerful and touching true-life story shares one boy’s perspective of growing up in the segregated South, while beautiful illustrations depict the rural setting in tender detail.

[eclecticstarlightconnoisseur]

EDINBURGH TO BOSTON - CHAPTER 16 - REACH OUT, I’LL BE THERE

Good Evening all! Here is the long-awaited next chapter of Edinburgh to Boston. Once again life has sent another challenge my way to cope with. There are days I cope well and other days. But,let’s not discuss that.

I also had another reason to keep this back until now.  This chapter deals with subjects that are relevant to the New Year: hope, forgiveness, new beginnings, peace. 

As always, I need to thank my most fabulous beta @scubalass​ who finds all my errors, inconsistencies and generally keeps me on the straight and narrow path. I could not do this without you. 🧡🤗

Another interesting item is that Hubby and I were watching a documentary on Motown and the song Reach Out, I’ll Be There came on. And all I could think about was that must be how Jamie feels about Claire as he listens to her. There is a youtube link at the end of the chapter for the song at the end.

I welcome any suggestions, thoughts, comments on the story. I would really like to hear what you think of this chapter.

So without further delay, I give you:

Edinburgh to Boston

Chapter 16

Reach Out, I’ll Be There.

Now if you feel that you can't go on

Because all of your hope is gone,

And your life is filled with much confusion

Until happiness is just an illusion,

And your world around is crumblin' down;

Darling, reach out (come on girl, reach on out for me)

Reach out (reach out for me.)

I'll be there, with a love that will shelter you.

I'll be there, with a love that will see you through.

I'll be there to always see you through.

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

She yearned to touch him. Kneeling beside him, her hands hesitating above his head. The need to touch him intoxicated her, to feel his soft curls, the hardness of his bone and flesh, his warm breath on her skin. She needed to know him as real and alive under her fingertips. Whole. But she felt afraid to startle him out of his deep meditative state.

She spoke to him in a hushed tone not wanting to startle him. “Jamie, it’s me, Claire.”

Jamie lifted his head up slowly, not really sure what he is seeing. At first, he believes she is an illusion, an apparition conjured by his fatigued and distraught mind.  He blinks several times, clearing his vision. “Claire, is it truly ye? Sassen...” he looked up at her, unsure if he should use her pet name.

Claire saw how the night affected him, eyes swollen and red-rimmed, eyelashes damp with tears. 

 “Yes, it’s me your Sassenach,” she smiled, gently stroking his cheek feeling the soft scruff prickling under her touch. “I became worried sick when you didn’t come back.  I...I thought maybe you were hurt or lost or had an accident.  I had to find you. God, Jamie, don’t ever do that again to me,” she whimpered eyes glazing with tears threatening to escape their boundaries. 

Jamie struggled to rise from his recumbent position. His legs trembled and he labored to stand. They were stiff from disuse, cold from lying prone on the marble floor, and the remnants of his drunkenness hampered his progress. He looked like a newborn colt’s gangly first attempt to stand. Claire quickly moved to his side using her body to support him as he struggled to remain upright. After regaining his stability, he wrapped her tightly in his arms, pulling her close to his chest. “Claire.” Her name rippled off his tongue like the ruffling of sweet water flowing down a burn. 

Overwhelmed with emotion Claire began to sob. She clutched his jacket needing something to hold on to. 

He spoke tenderly to her, whispering comforting words in Gàidhlig into her hair.  “‘Tis alright a leannan. I’m here. Dinna be afraid.”

Tenderly he stroked her back comforting her as if she were a small child. Her weeping grew faint reducing itself to a quiet hiccuping sound. She looked up into his kind blue eyes and punched him in the chest. 

“Ow! What was that for?!” he demanded with a surprised look on his face.

“You scared me. I...I thought lost you. I was afraid you wouldn’t come back.” She trembled in his arms, “I thought you...” She hesitated, “When you didn’t come back, I thought it was because you didn’t want me anymore.” Claire buried her face into his chest nervous about his reaction.

“Not? Not want ye? For the love of God, woman, I want ye more than life itself. How could I no’ want ye? Yer the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

“Humph. Then why didn’t you come back?”

“Because I thought ye dinna want me.” He dropped his arms from around his beloved shifting his gaze to his shoes intently studying them as if something new and interesting happened to them.

 Turning away Jamie began to pace. His sound hand opened and closed into a fist. Anger and frustration pulsed through his veins. 

“I failed ye, Claire! Ye told me that yerself. Ye said I left ye there to fight him off, tae, tae defend yerself. And how do ye think that made me feel? Hmm?” he spat out angrily. “I kent I was wrong. ‘Tis bad enough that I kent it, but tae hear it from ye. By Christ, did ye need tae throw it in my face?” he fumed.  “Weel, after that I kent I was no’ man enough for ye.  Ye need someone better than me to care for ye. That...That ye deserve someone more capable than me as I couldna keep my word.” He stopped pacing, his back turned to her. “Ye ken tae a Highlander breaking a promise is a verra, verra serious thing. Did ye ken that? No, I dinna believe that ye do. ‘Tis a matter of honor and loyalty th...that yer word has value, meaning. That ye can be trusted. Christ, I couldna keep my promise to ye or to the damn wee birds!” Frustration and shame plagued him, his fingers erratically tapping against his thigh. 

He turned to face her, tears welling up from deep inside him running down his cheeks. “I’m nay good for ye. I came here and prayed for guidance. At the time I thought I was angry because ye dinna want tae have Frank arrested. Truth be told, it drives me mad that ye dinna.” His face was grim and taut with the thought of Frank escaping punishment.  “I understand why ye dinna want tae and I appreciate it. Not tae have the arrest record follow me for the rest of my professional life ‘tis a blessing. But, ye ken I woulda carried that weight for the rest of my life so ye could get justice.” He blew out a breath steadying himself. “Instead, what I found deep in my heart is that I am no’ man enough for ye. When ye needed me, I failed to protect ye as I swore tae do. I’m sorry Claire. Sae sorry for everything.” He turned and walked toward the exit leading back to the shelter. He had the appearance of a dejected man, shoulders slumped, head hanging low. “When I get back to Scotland, I’ll give in my resignation tae the hospital. I canna be yer partner anymore. Ye need someone ye can depend on. I’ll get my things and be out of yer life.”

“Go to him. Be with him. He needs you,” Brother Stan told her.

God Almighty, what have I done!? I’ve shattered this beautiful man, his beautiful soul. Do you see what your secrets have done Beauchamp? The damage you caused.

“JAMIE, WAIT.” Her voice echoed reverberating throughout the cavernous church waking the saints and angels to bear witness to her amende honorable before God and her man.

 Claire ran to him, blocking his way to the exit. She grabbed both arms, looked imploring up into his face, “Please Jamie, don’t go.”

“Lass, ye have a good heart. I ken ye feel the need tae forgive me. But I canna forgive myself for the dishonor I brought to ye, for being a disappointment tae ye. So if ye dinna mind,” Jamie’s hand went to break her hold on him.

“Please! Listen to me. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine. I haven’t been honest with you. I lied to you about Frank, about me, about our marriage. You need to hear the truth first. All of it. Please hear me out. Give me another chance.” She became frantic trying to make him understand, to listen to her. She took a deep breath having come to a decision that could possibly break her heart forever. “If after you listen, should you still want to leave then I’ll not stop you,” she bargained.

Jamie stopped struggling to escape her grasp on his arms. “Lass, what do ye mean ye lied tae me?” His lips drew taut in an angry thin line. The only thing that Jamie Fraser could not abide was a lie. “Ye lied to me about what?” he asked glaring at her.

Claire let out a breath she did not know she was holding. She rather risk his ire than have him reproach himself when he was blameless. 

“We need to sit. This is a long story. I only ask that you listen with all your heart and an open mind.”

The Scot looked at her quirking an eyebrow in question. “Alright let’s hear it then.”

Claire took him by the hand and led him to a pew. She looked up to the altar, uttered a silent prayer asking for strength to tell him the truth and to accept his ultimate decision.

Taking his hand in hers, she began her confession.

“Everything I told you about how Frank insinuated himself into Lamb and my life is true. He is a master manipulator. He convinced Lamb that he truly cared for me. His behavior could even be called gallant, respectful, courteous. But that all changed once we were married. He was jealous, and became abusive, especially when drunk.” 

She recounted the incident with poor Albert the young professor. “He had threatened Albert, and actually took a swing at him. Fortunately, because of Frank’s level of intoxication, his punch went wide completely missing him.”

She peaked at Jamie from under her lashes. His face remained unreadable.

“Frank grabbed my hand and we left the party. In the car park, he started yelling. He insinuated things, calling me a whore. Then he threatened to beat me.” She told him that was not the only time he had acted like that. There were other incidents, some that ended in violence toward an innocent but the cruelty directed toward her continually escalated.

“Frank is jealous of you and the claim he believes you have on me. He thinks I’m still his. When we divorced, he seized hold of my arm telling me.” Claire paused. She looked toward the chapel ceiling trying desperately to compose herself. She bit her bottom lip hard enabling the coppery taste of blood to fill her mouth. She straightened herself, squaring her shoulders, and looked deeply into Jamie’s calm blue eyes. “Frank said that the divorce meant nothing. He would never let me go. That I am his forever and any man who thought differently would end up being very sorry. He touched me to mark me hoping you would walk away thinking me his or tarnished.  What happened couldn’t have been avoided. He was hellbent on creating trouble.” She blew out a sigh, “I’m sorry for blaming you, Jamie. Neither you nor I could have stopped this from happening.”

When you feel lost and about to give up

'Cause your best just ain't good enough

And you feel the world has grown cold,

And you're drifting out all on your own,

And you need a hand to hold:

Darling, reach out (come on girl, reach out for me)

She continued with story after story. Stories about how he degraded her during her residency and fellowship. Implying the only reason she passed was because of his and Lamb’s influence. This only made Claire work harder to be recognized on her own merit. She became chief resident then chief fellow. She became a recipient of several prestigious awards for the research she did as a cardiac fellow. Despite this, Frank continued to claim her achievements were the result of his influence and not her excellence as a doctor.

Claire stopped talking. She raised her hands to her temples massaging the throbbing pain sitting there.

She resumed her tale continuing to pour her heart out to Jamie who sat expressionless and silent. Imperceptibly, his hand gravitated to hers which now rested in her lap. A thumb began to gently stroke her hand. His hand squeezed hers, supporting her, comforting her. Touching made the ordeal easier somehow. 

I can tell the way you hang your head,

You're without love and now you're afraid

And through your tears, you look around,

But there's no peace of mind to be found.

I know what you're thinkin',

You're alone now, no love of your own,

But darling, reach out (come on girl, reach out for me)

“Go on, lass. There’s more isn’t there?”

Claire bobbed her head up and down acknowledging his statement. Swallowing the lump that formed in her throat, she pressed on with her story. “You recall,” she said with a shaky voice, “I told you that the box of love letters from Frank’s girlfriends fell, opening, and I read them. I also told you that I confronted him and he admitted to all the affairs. I said I struck him and went back to Lamb.  Well, the truth  is that I did find a box of letters, I lied about the rest.” The penitent, took a deep breath, exhaled and began. “What did happen was the day Frank found out he did not make tenure, he came home drunk. He threw me against the door, slapped and punched me in the face. When he was done with that, he grabbed me by the hair and slammed my head down on the dresser, and then.” Claire paused steeling her courage, “And then he raped me. My face was bruised, my mouth and lips were bloody. There were ecchymoses under my eye, my arms and thighs.  I fought him, but he was too strong. After he left, I packed my things and fled to Lamb’s place. That’s when I found the letters after I pulled my suitcase out of the closet.” 

“He broke me. He. Broke. Me. I was never the same after that.” She kept her eyes on him watching for his reaction. 

Jamie said nothing. His muscles tensed, and she saw his hand close ever so slowly into a white-knuckled fist. His eyes grew dark like black swirling thunderheads ready to unleash their fury. His breathing grew deeper, faster. A guttural growl emanated from the farthest reaches of his chest vibrating through him. The veins in his neck distended as blood coursed through them. They looked like great snakes undulating as they filled and emptied with each hammering beat of his heart.

She didn’t know how long had she spoke. It could have been minutes or hours. But she told him everything leaving out nothing. As she finished her account, Claire admitted, “No one outside of Lamb and Lamb’s lawyer knew any of this as I never told another soul.”

Hearing the details of her nightmare flooded Jamie with so many emotions, anger for the pain she suffered. Admiration for her strength and resiliency. Love. His love for her only deepened. It had no limit; it had no end. She was a survivor. And she was his.

“Why did ye no’ tell me, Claire?”

Looking down at her hands, she whispered, “I didn’t want to tell you for fear of what you would think of me. Tainted, damaged, useless. That you would believe the things Frank said about me. That you couldn’t, wouldn’t see me.” She sat up straighter, turned and looked her lad in the face. “If this is too much for you Jamie, I understand. If you want to go, well there’s no hard feelings, just go.” She gave him a small smile and sat waiting. 

She had the desire to cry, but would not. To do so would be to continue Frank’s hold over her. To let him continue to own her. By telling Jamie the truth, it liberated her. The demon was cast out and struck down. The exorcism complete. Her eyes strayed toward the shrine of St. Michael. The Archangel was renowned for slaying the dragon. At this moment, Claire felt a kinship with the saint for tonight she slew her own. She would not let Frank possess her ever again. She finally won her freedom.

Reach out (reach out for me.)

Just look over your shoulder

I'll be there, to give you all the love you need,

And I'll be there, you can always depend on me.

It seemed like an interminable length of time before Jamie spoke, “Mo nighean donn, yer a braw lass, sae brave, sae strong. I love ye Claire, but ye shoulda told me,” he admonished her. “Ye shouldna be carrying this alone. I have a broad enough back to carry this with ye.” His arms came and wrapped around her, pulling her to his chest, enveloping her in his love.

“I dinna want ye to ever feel ye canna tell me something, mo chridhe. Ye need to reach out for me, come tae me. I’ll always be here for ye. Always.” Gently he placed a delicate kiss on her crown tugging her even closer to him.

Claire looked up into his kind blue eyes, feeling the love therein. “There is another reason that I didn’t want to tell you all of this. Fear of what you would do it you ever met Frank. I bloody did not want you to kill him, James Fraser. I am a terrible baker.”

His brow furrowed with a look of puzzlement running across his face. “Lass, I dinna take yer meaning. What in hell are ye goin’ on about?” He looked up and stared directly at the altar. His face turned bright red with the realization of where he was and mumbled a heartfelt, “Pardon.”

She looked at him with a smirk on her face and a laugh waiting to erupt from her lips. “I don’t think I could bake a cake with a saw in so you could escape from jail.” Her eyes danced with the light of merriment and joy. The lines of pain and stress so long part of her visage were smoothed away. She positively glowed.

Jamie swallowed hard. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he attempted to stifle his own laugh. He rested his chin on the top of her head, “A nighean,” he sighed and pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose.

“Ye’re daft woman, ye ken? But, I love ye fine and that’s all about that.”

Claire nestled against his chest feeling safe and loved and relieved.

They sat there immersed in their own little sphere of happiness. Not speaking, not moving, just being.

“Claire? Lass?” I think it’s time we go.”

“Mmm, yes I think we should go too. I’ve had enough of Boston, Jamie. Take me home. Home to Scotland.” 

“Aye, Scotland,” he choked with emotion.

They walked together fingers interlaced toward the exit through the shelter.  Claire helped Jamie into his overcoat and placed his beanie on his head. She quickly prepared herself for a wintery blast as well. They found Brother Stan at his work, comforting all who needed it.

“Thank ye Brother for everything. I’ll never forget ye,” Jamie clasped the cleric’s hand warmly.

Claire leaned forward giving the clergyman a quick peck on the cheek. “Thank you for looking after him.”

“Go with God, go in peace, go in love,” he wished the couple. 

“And,” winking at Jamie “don’t beat up any more trees, eh?”

With his head bowed, a grin on his face, Jamie responded, “Trust me,  Brother, they are safe from me.”

Claire took out her mobile ordered a car to take them to their next destination.

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

They arrived back at the hospital for one final check on Jamie’s hand. A confirmatory X-Ray revealed no new breaks just some new bone bruises. Dr. Nelson, visibly annoyed with his recalcitrant patient placed a brace over the injured hand immobilizing and protecting it from further damage.

“Dr. Fraser,” he reprimanded harshly, “You need to take better care of your hands. Unless of course, you don’t want to operate anymore,” he inquired raising a questioning eyebrow.  

Jamie, rather shamefaced replied, “Aye, I do. ‘Twas foolish and careless of me. It willna happen again. Thank ye for yer care, Dr. Nelson. Truly.”

Once again, they bid their farewells to the staff and hurriedly headed once more to the hotel.

 *********************************

The fatigue from the previous day dragged at their heels. Sleep though would remain elusive as preparations for their departure took precedence. Each surgeon took turns washing their faces and brushing their teeth hoping a modicum of cleanliness would keep their exhaustion at bay. 

Claire began the task of packing their suitcases while Jamie spent his time trying to find an earlier flight home.

He watched as Claire sorted their things methodically and neatly packing. Despite the smile on her face, he could see her desire to be away from here and safe in the embrace of Scotland.

As he dialed the airline he prayed, “God dinna let me fail her this time. I need tae get her away from here, from the memories and the pain. Please.”

“Good morning! Alba Airlines this is Ainslie. How may I assist ye?” chirped a feminine voice on the other end of the phone.

“Good morning tae ye. This is Dr. James Fraser and I’m wondering do ye have any available seats leaving today from Boston to Edinburgh, for two?” 

“One moment sir.” Jamie could hear the clicking of the keyboard as Ainslie typed finding their reservation information to leave Boston in three days; time. The representative hummed softly as she searched for any vacant seats.

“Dr. Fraser,” she said exuberantly, “It just so happens that a couple canceled their flight for today. That flight leaves at 9:50 PM. Would that be alright?”

“Aye, lass that would be fine.  Please make the reservation for Dr. James Fraser and Dr. Claire Beauchamp.” 

“Dinna worry Dr. Fraser, I will make all the necessary arrangements for ye and Dr. Beauchamp.”

“Thank ye kindly, lass.” 

“Sassenach, ‘tis all arranged. Our flight is at 9:50 PM.  ‘Tis a bit late, but at least we leave today. Alright?”

She comes and stands between his legs, wrapping her arms around his neck.  Slowly Claire bends and places a kiss to his cheek. “You’re a magician. How did you manage it?”

Jamie wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to him resting his head on her abdomen, “‘Twas naught but a wee bit of luck.”

“Well, whatever you did, I’m glad of it,” she smiled tenderly at him.

He looked at her with hungry eyes, pulled her down to sit on his knee. “I love ye, mo chridhe, always.” 

Claire wrapped her arms around his neck pressed her forehead against his whispering, “And I you, forever.”

Jamie took in the face that was his heart. His lass’s face glowed in the soft light. Her eyes soft like a fine sherry, her skin like pearl, and her lips. Ah, her lips blushed like pink rosebuds, plump and sweet, begging to be kissed and kissed often. Slowly, his hand reached up cupping her cheek as his thumb traced her lips. Oh, how he wanted to kiss her, ravage her mouth with his. Possess her. But he couldn’t. Not after her revelations. He simply could not come to her like a brute blind with need. No. That would never do.

“Claire. Lass, I would. I’d like verra much to kiss ye. May I?”  

“Yes,” she whispered while nuzzling his cheek.

Their lips came together tentatively at first, just a mere touching. Claire moved to deepen the kiss.  Her lips parted and her tongue danced across his lips seeking entry. Jamie startled, then yielded to her request. Their tongues moved in a tantalizing rhythm of their own making swirling, tasting. Her hands tangled in the silken curls at his nape. His hand brushed across her back caressing her luxuriating in the feel of her body against his.  And suddenly he broke the kiss. He stared at her. Her face was flushed with passion, eyes smoldering, lips kiss swollen. 

She fisted his shirt, “I want you, now,” she whimpered.

Jamie rested his forehead against hers, “No, a nighean, no’ here in this place of heartache and sorrow. I dinna want ye tae recall our joining here to be tainted with the memories of what happened with Frank last night.” He paused, considering what he wanted to say next. “Ye deserve better my own. I need to love ye in a place that belongs only to us. A place of love. No’ a place where we try tae erase memories but a place where we make them.” He took her hand and kissed each of her knuckles,  “I need tae take my time so I can serve ye rightly. No’ like this,” his voice low and sultry. “We’ll have time when we return to Scotland. Then I swear I mean to make ye moan and weep, even if ye dinna wish tae. I mean tae make ye sigh and scream with the wanting. And at the last, tae cry out my name. Then and only then shall I know that I served ye well.”

Claire leaned forward bit the shell of his ear and murmured, “I’ll keep you to that promise, Jamie Fraser. Do not disappoint me.” 

She stood and noticed an errant sock on the floor. Bending all the way over to pick it up, she displayed, according to James Fraser, her finest asset and gave it a slight wiggle. Slowly the tease stood up sock in hand. She heard a small groan and mutterings in Gàidhlig. 

“Good,” she thought. “That should teach him not to trifle with her.”  

Turning her head around to look over her shoulder, she gave him her most coquettish looks, “I’m going to take a shower.” Claire walked toward the bathroom with an unmistakable sway to her hips. Her lover’s grumbling became louder.

Claire showered, towel-dried, wrapped her hair in a towel and dressed in her robe. She felt relaxed from the heat of the water. The warmth from the shower induced a feeling of calmness and bone-weary tiredness causing her to struggle to keep her eyes open.

How many hours had it been since she had a decent night’s sleep Claire wondered? Too many. She could not recall when she last had a full night’s sleep. But it really didn’t matter how long she had gone without sleep. She would gladly do it again and again and again. For him. She is the keeper of his heart and soul. Never again would she let harm come to him. Nothing else mattered only Jamie. She could not, would not let anything or anyone come between them. He was hers.  

Walking out of the bathroom, the bed looked enticing. It called to her seducing her with a magnetic force she was powerless to resist. Claire tugged on his shirt that she had napped in earlier along with fresh panties. Climbing onto the bed, she stretched out waiting for Jamie to join her after his shower.  The pull of slumber, however, was too great. Slowly her head began to slump forward only to jerk her back into wakefulness as she felt her head drop.

Jamie followed suit, still mumbling his irritation to himself as he entered the bathroom. He quickly showered succumbing to the peace and tranquility of his ablutions. He felt purified somehow.  The pain, tension, and worry were washed away and circling down the drain. He released himself from the stress of the past day and surrendered to his exhaustion. 

How long has it been since he was this tired, he wondered? Probably not since his medical internship. Shite, that was a long time ago and he thought he was feeling his age. I’m tae old tae be doing this sort of thing, he scolded himself. He looked up and thought about the Sassenach in the other room.  I may be too old for this, but she’s worth it. He chuckled to himself. Aye, I’d walk through the fires of hell and back for her. He knew he would willingly suffer more than a few sleepless nights for her because he loved her more than life itself.

He came out of the bathroom with the towel slung low over his hips. He rootled around in his suitcase finding his sleep pant. As he pulled them on he caught a glance of Claire sitting on the bed her head bobbing as she struggled to remain awake. Climbing into bed he drew her to him.

“Sassenach, we need to sleep awhile. Let me hold ye. Come, lass lay yer head down.” They lay together spoon fashion. Jamie wrapping one arm around her chest while the other lay across her abdomen. He felt the steady thrum of her heart becoming soothed by it. Claire snuggled closer, her arse nestled in his groin. She mumbled, “I love you.” 

“I love ye too, mo ghràdh.” They closed their eyes yielding to the narcotic of sleep.

A hazy winter’s afternoon light cast about the room. Early shadows crept up the walls. 

Jamie woke first. He was lying on his back and his Sassenach curled into his side, her head resting on his chest. She snored lightly as she slept. His hand came around moving her curls off her face allowing him to study her in repose. She looked relaxed.  The usual lines around her eyes and mouth were gone. She mumbled something incoherent and gave a wee chuckle. She was dreaming.  He hoped she was happy. He hoped she was dreaming of him and that he was making her happy. Placing a gentle kiss to her hair, he closed his eyes thinking just for a few minutes more.

The room was dark. The weak winter light had long gone. Claire’s eyes blinked adjusting to the dimness of the room. She became aware of Jamie’s slumbering form next to her, breathing gently, hands folded across his chest. He looked like one of the tomb figures she had seen during her travels with Lamb. All that was needed to complete this picture was a little dog asleep at his feet. 

She snuggled against him, inhaling his sleepy scent. Masculine. She exhaled contentedly and then saw the clock blinking angrily 5:01 PM. 

Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, we have to be at the airport by 7:30 PM. 

“Wake up! Jamie! Wake up! We need to get ready to leave.”

Jamie became instantly awake, jumping out of the bed scanning the room for threats of danger. Seeing none, he turned his attention to Claire.

“What’s amiss lass?”

Claire was hopping around on one leg trying to shimmy into her jeans. “We need to leave for the airport soon. Don’t we need to take care of the bill? We didn’t even tell them we were leaving. We need to get a car. Jamie, why are you standing there looking at me like that? We need to hurry.”

He sat down heavily on the bed scrubbing his face with his hands. “Lass, dinna do that again. Ye scared me to death. I took care of everything while ye were in the shower. There is nae bill. I spoke with the manager about shortening our stay. He was no’ happy at first, but I convinced him otherwise. Then the wee mannie could no’ do enough. It was aye Dr. Fraser, of course, Dr. Fraser.” Jamie chortled to himself.

Claire gave him a side-long look. “Exactly what did you do to make him so, shall we say, agreeable?”

“Oh, no’ much,” Jamie replied with a broad smile on his lips. “I just insinuated that if word got around about what happened last night the publicity may no’ be in his favor, aye?” His cat-eyes gleamed with mischief.

“Jamie you didn’t!”

“I did.” he snorted. “The man was being a right arse.”

“You know I would never allow that to happen. It would be too embarrassing!”

“I ken it, but he doesna. And Padrick will pick us up at 6 P. M. to take us to the airport.”

“You devious…”

“I am.” With that, he fell backward onto the bed laughing until tears leaked out.

“I told ye Sassenach, I would take care of ye, did I no?” He wiped the tears away with the back of his hand.

“Yes, you did. You didn’t say how though.” She shakes her head. Claire came closer to him placing a soft kiss on his lips, “Ridiculous man.”

“But ye love me.?” It was both a statement and a question.

“Very much so.” 

They finished packing their bags, dressed quickly and went to the lobby to wait for Padrick.

Seeing Jamie, Pierre the maitre d’hotel surreptitiously approached him. “Dr. Fraser, if I might have a word with you? In private.” He grabbed Jamie by the coat sleeve pulling him into a small out of the way alcove where they would not be observed.  “I know the Madame did not wish a list of names who witnessed the umm, shall we say, the occurrence of last night. However, I took it upon myself to create such a list.” 

He handed Jamie a list of the patrons of the restaurant with statements of what they observed duly notarized. It also contained names and contact information should there be a need to testify on behalf of  Dr. Beauchamp.

“The Madame is such a lovely lady and the man un foutu de salaud,un fils d'une pute. He shall never step inside this restaurant again,” he growled.  “I am so sorry this happened to her. Would you keep this for her should she ever need it?” He pressed the envelope into Jamie’s hand.

Jamie overwhelmed from the gentleman’s kindness clasped his shoulder with gratitude. “Merci, mon Amie.” He took the envelope and placed inside his coat’s inner pocket.

“Le plaisir était pour moi, Monsieur.” Pierre bowed and left.

Claire waited impatiently for him in the lobby. Upon seeing him, she glared at him suspiciously, “Where were you?” She had the feeling he was up to something that he did not want her to know about.

Thinking quickly and not completely telling a lie, “I thanked Pierre for his assistance last night, Sassenach. He also assured me that the villain wouldna be allowed back in his establishment.” Jamie said that with no little satisfaction.  He liked the idea of Frank being ostracized from the brasserie.  It was some mark of justice.  

He clasped her chin raising her head up and brushed his lips across hers, “Come Sassenach, our car awaits.”

Padrick the ever-present chauffeur loaded their luggage into the boot and swiftly departed for the airport.

Jamie and Claire arrived at the airport making their way to the Alba Airline terminal. 

“‘Twill be good to be home, Sassanech, do ye no’ agree?”

“Yes, I do,” she sighed with relief at the prospect of leaving Boston.

They found seats in the waiting area and made themselves as comfortable as possible.

“Do ye remember when we left Edinburgh, lass, ye were busy staring at my arse? Did it live up to yer expectations, then?” he said smugly.

“If you must know,” she sat there contemplating. “Hmm, well I would say umm…”

“Fer Christ’s sake, Claire, is it or is it no???” He seemed rather annoyed that her answer was not immediately forthcoming. 

It seems that men even beautifully made men like Jamie, had body-image issues, not unlike women.

Claire looked at him eyes twinkling, “Did I offend you, Fraser? Yes, you have the finest arse I have ever seen or will ever want to see. Better?”

“Yes.” He looked very cross his lip jutting out like a petulant little boy who had been told he could not have a treat. Claire gave him a jab in the ribs and gave him a wry smile. They looked at each other, chins quivering and began to laugh. “I love ye, lass, ye ken it. But yer wicked in yer ways.”

The PA system crackled to life.

Flight 8389 Boston to Edinburgh International Airport now boarding at Gate 34. Please have yer boarding passes ready.

Home.

A/N:

Amende honorable -- was originally a mode of punishment in France which required the offender, barefoot and stripped to his shirt, and led into a church or auditory with a torch in his hand and a rope around his neck held by the public executioner, to beg pardon on his knees of his God, his king, and his country; now the term is used to denote a satisfactory apology or reparation. Amende honorable forbade revenge.

Un foutu de salaud,  -- fucking bastard

 Fils d'une pute. --  son of a whore   

Le plaisir était pour moi, Monsieur  --  The pleasure is all mine, sir.

The song: Reach Out (I’ll Be There) was performed by the Four Tops. 

Released: 1966

Songwriter(s): Holland–Dozier–Holland

Youtube link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yqFz7T5v3iU

[dreadnought-dear-captain]

You Asked, I Told and Update

CW: Spoilers for Baghdad Waltz up to chapter 36 and some non-graphic discussion of childhood sexual abuse 

Hello!!!

Wow, I am so, so sorry for falling off the grid like that. I thought I was going to have WAY more time in October/November to work on the fic and work on fandom stuff in general, but my professional life threw me a huge right hook and I got completely sidetracked for weeks. So I’m off schedule a bit, in terms of having the next chapter. I’m sorry for the delay. 

I’m done with the full draft of Chapter 37 (about 23k - “short” but emotionally very dense) and am working through final revisions now. However, I also had to do an extensive amount of 9/11-related research for it, and part of that research has been reviewing oral histories of New Yorkers from the day of the attacks, and I came to the shocking realization that much of the prologue is historically inaccurate. Moreover, it’s shamefully inconsistent with the way that New Yorkers would respond to such an event. I’m embarrassed by how shoddy of a job I did with it.

Thus, I’m also going to be rewriting the prologue and including more accurate details, both historically and in terms of character dynamics. I mean, there’s no way Bucky could even live in Brooklyn and be a first responder at Ground Zero! All the bridges and tunnels were shut down. Shame on me. There will be ripple effects throughout the entire fic. Sigh. This is just round one of the massive amount of revisions I will be doing to the early chapters of the fic, which I wrote years ago now. I was going to wait to post both at the same time, but I don’t want to make you wait that long. I’ll just give you a notification when I finish the prologue revisions, and it’ll be like a little bonus chapter.

Anyway, here are some asks! Starting with a two-parter

First, thank you for the kind words. I’m glad you’re finding this fic moving. It’s definitely an emotional rollercoaster for these characters, and my hope (I guess?) is to have that be a parallel process for the readers. I think you hit the nail on the head that this relationship is exhausting. And you’re also right that not everyone would have the perseverance to keep coming back to it. It would be so much easier to amputate, pack up and go home. But once these characters get back into each other’s orbit, it’s very challenging for them to not keep crashing back into each other. It’s partially because they just love each other so much, but it’s also because they have an unhealthy relationship dynamic that sets them up for these toxic cycles. This will become especially apparent in the next chapter. They love each other, yes, but they also use each other to fill the gaping holes and insecurities they have within themselves. And they’re horrible communicators to boot. It’s a perfect storm. But at least they are going to try out some of this therapy crap maybe…?? We’ll see!

Along a similar line…

Thank you so much. That is so lovely of you to say, and I’m happy that I have your trust with this story. That said, I don’t know if it’s weakness if you’re not willing to run yourself through a miserable gauntlet of suffering the way Steve and Bucky are doing in this story. Would we call Rikki weak for drawing a boundary and stepping away from Bucky when his alcoholism was destroying their family? Some people used other words, but I’m not sure if weakness is the thing that might make someone walk away from a relationship like this. Just because you love someone doesn’t mean you should keep slamming your face against the same wall until you’re black and blue. This is a highly dysfunctional couple, and these men have serious issues they are grappling with personally that make them ripe for this kind of relationship. Bucky is an open wound, crippled with shame, desperate to do anything to feel better. Steve has deep attachment injuries from his chronically ill mother and deadbeat dad, as well as major control issues, and he wants to latch on and fix and make right, and if he manages every variable just right, he really thinks he can do it. And then throw in a fuckton of PTSD and TBI and alcoholism and physical injuries on top of it. So no, I wouldn’t rush to judge yourself for not envisioning yourself gutting it out in this grim scenario. 

But I also think we can identify with at least one of these characters, and we can root for people who want to overcome the shit that life has thrown at them to be with the person they love. Because they really do love each other. There’s just so much noise that it’s hard to tease out the signal sometimes. 

Good call on Bucky being a notoriously unreliable narrator, and he’s someone who is likely to underreport his suffering. Aside from his war-related injuries and his psychological struggles, Bucky’s most symptomatic issues are his GI problems. He has both peptic and esophageal ulcers, which are slightly different creatures. Peptic (stomach) ulcers, in Bucky’s case, have been caused by H. pylori and exacerbated by smoking and drinking. The esophageal ulcer was most likely caused by an excess of stomach acid due to gastroesophageal reflux disease (GERD) and, once again, exacerbated by drinking. Both of these have led to nausea, vomiting, lack of appetite, and weight loss. They have really emerged since Bucky got out of the military and pursued drinking with renewed vigor. Though he wouldn’t know it at the time because he doesn’t keep up with these things, his GERD is very possibly linked to acute, high dose exposure to the exceedingly toxic “dust” from the collapse of the World Trade Center towers. It’s one of the most widespread chronic health ailments of those exposed, aside from lower respiratory problems.

And now for some heavy-ass questions from licketysplittt — see CW above.

Yes, I am going to talk more about the context of Bucky’s abuse for sure, so I won’t go into the depths here. But I will say now that you are absolutely right that he has complex feelings for his abuser. I think it would have been easy to write him as just being unidimensionally angry or ashamed, but I know that’s not the experience of everyone who has experienced sexual abuse. This is especially the case if the person who commits the abuse it is a family member or caretaker or friend or trusted religious figure or someone who’s not just a “stranger in the bushes” type. I wanted to try to capture that experience in this fic. Bucky has also been multiply victimized by multiple people over the course of his life, which adds to this complexity and creates an internal narrative for him. Like what does it mean that this keeps happening to him? This is also not an uncommon experience for people who have been abused as children. And there’s also the added piece of this that Bucky’s gay, right? So he’s got this very, very young sexuality that’s on the verge of blooming (your Disney sexuality perhaps, sitting close, holding hands, etc) and this older male is making sexual advances toward him, and so he might ask if this person “saw” something in him aside from his social isolation that made him choose him. These are certainly questions he’s tortured himself over. I will get more into all of this, I promise. 

Winnie and George undoubtedly knew that their kid wasn’t a very popular one. But perhaps they always knew that he was a kid who wasn’t destined to have many friends because he’s “sensitive” or however they would characterize him (I’m sure they had different ways of viewing him). And I think it’s important to take into account the type of household that Bucky was in and the way he would shape his behavior. George was this total wildcard — “Best Dad in the World” most days but a screaming, violent tyrant at these odd, unpredictable times that were fucking terrifying for everyone in his path. This is a house where it’s best just to shut up and create as few problems as you can, because you don’t want to be the one that dad is gonna flip his shit at. And so everyone is walking on eggshells and Bucky is going to get very good at lying about how bad things are. And oh! Jamie finally has a friend, how wonderful. There will be more details in upcoming chapters about how this all transpires, but I think the dynamics at home made it possible for a lot of this to happen. And you’re right that these were not the most skillful parents, and their marriage was very strained and stressful for everyone. And these fictional assholes also frustrate me! The emotional content can be hard to write. It’s one reason these past few chapters have taken me soooooo painfully long. 

Great questions! You are all so thoughtful and kind. Sorry again for getting so terribly sidetracked. I am going to keep plugging away at the chapter and at comments and asks. I’m optimistic that I will have the next chapter for you within the next two weeks. I am pleased with this chapter and hope you’ll like it. Thank you for being so patient!!!