#Ian Murray

[samsheughan]

OUTLANDER 1x12 | 7x09

[outlander-online]

UHQ stills from Outlander 7B

📸: FFAway

[sassenach77yle]

7x10 “Brotherly Love”

They sat awhile longer, feeling peaceful, holding hands.“Where d’ye think he is now?” Jenny said suddenly. “Ian, I mean.”He glanced at the house, then at the new grave waiting, but of course that wasn’t Ian anymore. He was panicked for a moment, his earlier emptiness returning—but then it came to him, and, without surprise, he knew what it was Ian had said to him.“On your right, man.” On his right. Guarding his weak side.

“He’s just here,” he said to Jenny, nodding to the spot between them. “Where he belongs.”

84 THE RIGHT OF IT~ An Echo in the Bone

[winnie-the-monster]

[tonitopazs]

OUTLANDER 3x06 | 5x11

[theoutlanderevangelist]

7x10 “Brotherly Love” | OUTLANDER

[theawkwardterrier]

Wednesday 100: Go Out Weeping

"A letter from thine aunt," Rachel says, although she stays after delivering it. From Ian's descriptions of Claire's state, he might need her shoulder or ear after reading it.

Ian breathes then breaks the seal, reading swiftly before suddenly lifting her, laughing.

"What is it?!" she asks, giddy from him.

"It was a mistake! Uncle Jamie's alive!" Ian glances down at the letter, then grins at her. "This'll settle yer debate on heaven, ken."

Rachel wrinkles her nose. "How? As thee said, he wasn't truly dead."

"Maybe no', but my auntie was, and now she's back to tell of it."

[scullysconstant]

# ian is me

[where-our-stories-start]

Outlander (7x08): Turning Points

[incorrect-outlander-quotes]

Jamie: Have you been yelled at by Claire yet? Young Ian: I'm not scared of her. Jamie: So that's a no.

[thewanderingace]

New, absolutely gorgeous, photos of the characters for Season 7 Part 2!

(source)

[underthewingsofthblackeagle]

The Countdown to Happiness - Day 14

Picture: Panorama Helsinki / Finland - Dom und Parlamentsplatz (by   tap5a)

From November 24th on, I will post one chapter of

“We only do this for Fergus!”

[From @outlanderpromptexchange - Prompt 3: Fake Relationship AU: Jamie Fraser wants to formally adopt his foster son Fergus, but his application will probably not be approved… unless he is married and/or in a committed relationship. Enter one Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp (Randall?) to this story]

every day until it’s “Happy End”. Yes, you might not believe it but there is a Happy End coming around New Year’s Eve / New Year :) I hope you enjoy reading this little story (again).

[alicent-targaryen]

YOUNG IAN ▸ Outlander, 7.1

[sassenach77yle]

7x10 “Brotherly Love”

WHEN IAN FELT WELL enough, he came out walking with Jamie. Sometimes only as far as the yard or the barn, to lean on the fence and make remarks to Jenny’s sheep. Sometimes he felt well enough to walk miles, which amazed—and alarmed—Jamie. Still, he thought, it was good to walk side by side through the moors and the forest and down beside the loch, not talking much but side by side. It didn’t matter that they walked slowly; they always had, since Ian had come back from France with a wooden leg.“I’m lookin’ forward to having back my leg,” Ian had remarked casually once, when they sat in the shelter of the big rock where Fergus had lost his hand, looking out over the small burn that ran down at the foot of the hill, watching for the stray flash of a leaping trout.“Aye, that’ll be good,” Jamie had said, smiling a little—and a little wry about it, too, recalling when he’d waked after Culloden and thought his own leg missing. He’d been upset and tried to comfort himself with the thought that he’d get it back eventually, if he made it out of purgatory and into heaven. Of course, he’d thought he was dead, too, but that hadn’t seemed nearly as bad as the imagined loss of his leg.“I dinna suppose ye’ll have to wait,” he said idly, and Ian blinked at him.“Wait for what?”“Your leg.” He realized suddenly that Ian had no notion what he’d been thinking, and hastened to explain.“So I was only thinking, ye wouldna spend much time in purgatory—if at all—so ye’ll have it back soon.”Ian grinned at him. “What makes ye sae sure I willna spend a thousand years in purgatory? I might be a terrible sinner, aye?”“Well, aye, ye might be,” Jamie admitted. “Though if so, ye must think the devil of a lot of wicked thoughts, because if ye’d been doing anything, I’d know about it.”“Oh, ye think so?” Ian seemed to find this funny. “Ye havena seen me in years. I might ha’ been doing anything, and ye’d never ken a thing about it!”“Of course I would,” Jamie said logically. “Jenny would tell me. And ye dinna mean to suggest she wouldna ken if ye had a mistress and six bastard bairns, or ye’d taken to the highways and been robbing folk in a black silk mask?”“Well, possibly she would,” Ian admitted. “Though come on, man, there’s nothing ye could call a highway within a hundred miles. And I’d freeze to death long before I came across anyone worth robbin’ in one o’ the passes.” He paused, eyes narrowed against the wind, contemplating the criminal possibilities open to him.

“I could ha’ been stealing cattle,” he offered. “Though there’re sae few beasts these days, the whole parish would ken it at once should one go missing. And I doubt I could hide it amongst Jenny’s sheep wi’ any hope of its not bein’ noticed.”He thought further, chin in hand, then reluctantly shook his head.“The sad truth is, Jamie, no one’s had a thing worth stealin’ in the Highlands these twenty years past. Nay, theft’s right out, I’m afraid. So is fornication, because Jenny would ha’ killed me already. What does that leave? There’s no really anything to covet…. I suppose lying and murder is all that’s left, and while I’ve met the odd man I would ha’ liked to kill, I never did.” He shook his head regretfully, and Jamie laughed.“Oh, aye? Ye told me ye killed men in France.”“Well, aye, I did, but that was a matter of war—or business,” he added fairly. “I was bein’ paid to kill them; I didna do it out o’ spite.”“Well, then, I’m right,” Jamie pointed out. “Ye’ll sail straight through purgatory like a rising cloud, for I canna think of a single lie ye’ve ever told me.”Ian smiled with great affection.“Aye, well, I may ha’ told lies now and then, Jamie—but no, not to you.”He looked down at the worn wooden peg stretched before him and scratched at the knee on that side.“I wonder, will it feel different?”“How could it not?”“Well, the thing is,” Ian said, wiggling his sound foot to and fro, “I can still feel my missing foot. Always have been able to, ever since it went. Not all the time, mind,” he added, looking up. “But I do feel it. A verra strange thing. Do ye feel your finger?” he asked curiously, raising his chin at Jamie’s right hand.“Well… aye, I do. Not all the time, but now and then—and the nasty thing is that even though it’s gone, it still hurts like damnation, which doesna seem really fair.”He could have bitten his tongue at that, for here Ian was dying, and him complaining that the loss of his finger wasn’t fair. Ian wheezed with amusement, though, and leaned back, shaking his head.“If life was fair, then what?”They sat in companionable silence for a while, watching the wind move through the pines on the hillside opposite. Then Jamie reached into his sporran and brought out the tiny white-wrapped package. It was a bit grubby from being in his sporran but had been tidily preserved and tightly wrapped.Ian eyed the little bundle in his palm.“What’s this?”My finger,” Jamie said. “I—well… I wondered whether ye’d maybe not mind to have it buried with ye.”Ian looked at him for a moment. Then his shoulders started to shake.“God, don’t laugh!” Jamie said, alarmed. “I didna mean to make ye laugh! Christ, Jenny will kill me if ye cough up a lung and die out here!”Ian was coughing, fits of it interspersed with long-drawn-out wheezes of laughter. Tears of mirth stood in his eyes, and he pressed both fists into his chest, struggling to breathe. At last, though, he left off and straightened slowly up, making a sound like a bellows. He sniffed deep and casually spat a glob of horrifying scarlet into the rocks.“I’d rather die out here laughin’ at you than in my bed wi’ six priests say-in’ prayers,” he said. “Doubt I’ll get the chance, though.” He put out a hand, palm up. “Aye, give it here.”Jamie laid the little white-wrapped cylinder in his hand, and Ian tucked the finger casually into his own sporran.“I’ll keep it safe ’til ye catch me up.”

81 PURGATORY II ~ An echo in the Bone

He had been holding Ian’s hand, clasping hard, trying to force some notion of well-being from his own calloused palm into Ian’s thin gray skin. His thumb slid upward now, pressing on the wrist where he had seen Claire grip, searching out the truth of a patient’s health.He felt the skin give, sliding across the bones of Ian’s wrist. He thought suddenly of the blood vow given at his marriage, the sting of the blade and Claire’s cold wrist pressed to his and the blood slick between them. Ian’s wrist was cold, too, but not from fear.He glanced at his own wrist, but there was no trace of a scar, either from vows or fetters; those wounds were fleeting, long-healed.

“D’ye remember when we gave each other blood for blood?”

Ian’s eyes were closed, but he smiled. Jamie’s hand tightened on the bony wrist, a little startled but not truly surprised that Ian had reached into his mind and caught the echo of his thoughts.

“Aye, of course.”

He couldn’t help a small smile of his own, a painful one.They’d been eight years old, the two of them. Jamie’s mother and her bairn had died the day before. The house had been full of mourners, his father dazed with shock. They had slipped out, he and Ian, scrambling up the hill behind the house, trying not to look at the fresh-dug grave by the broch. Into the wood, safe under the trees.Had slowed then, wandering, come to a stop at last at the top of the high hill, where some old stone building that they called the fort had fallen down long ago. They’d sat on the rubble, wrapped in their plaids against the wind, not talking much.“I thought I’d have a new brother,” he’d said suddenly. “But I don’t. It’s just Jenny and me, still.” In the years since, he’d succeeded in forgetting that small pain, the loss of his hoped-for brother, the boy who might have given him back a little of his love for his older brother, Willie, dead of the smallpox. He’d cherished that pain for a little, a flimsy shield against the enormity of knowing his mother gone forever.Ian had sat thinking for a bit, then reached into his sporran and got out the wee knife his father had given him on his last birthday.

“I’ll be your brother,” he’d said, matter-of-fact, and cut across his thumb, hissing a little through his teeth.He’d handed the knife to Jamie, who’d cut himself, surprised that it hurt so much, and then they’d pressed their thumbs together and sworn to be brothers always. And had been.

He took a deep breath, bracing himself against the nearness of death, the black finality.“Ian. Shall I…” Ian’s eyelids lifted, the soft brown of his gaze sharpening into clarity at what he heard in the thickness of Jamie’s voice. Jamie cleared his throat hard and looked away, then looked back, feeling obscurely that to look away was cowardly.“Will ye have me hasten ye?” he asked, very softly. Even as he spoke, the cold part of his mind sought the way. Not by the blade, no; it was quick and clean, a proper man’s departure, but it would cause his sister and the weans grief; neither he nor Ian had the right to leave a final memory stained with blood.Ian’s grip neither slackened nor clung, but of a sudden Jamie felt the pulse he had looked for in vain, a small, steady throb against his own palm.He hadn’t looked away, but his eyes blurred, and he bent his head to hide the tears.Claire… She would know how, but he couldn’t ask her to do it. Her own vow kept her from it.“No,” Ian said. “Not yet, anyway.” He’d smiled, eyes soft. “But I’m glad to ken ye’ll do it if I need ye to, mo brathair.”

[winnie-the-monster]

[inlovewithquotes]

"A wonder ye put up wi' Jamie and me," Ian teased, hearing her, "seein' ye've such a low opinion of men "

Jenny waved her soup ladle dismissively at husband and brother, seated side by side on the ground near the kettle.

"Och, you two aren't 'men'"

Ian's feathery brows shot upward, and Jamie's thicker red ones matched then.

"Oh, we're not? Well, what are we, then?" Ian demanded.

Jenny turned toward him with a smile, white teeth flashing in the firelight. She patted Jamie on the head, and dropped a kiss on Ian's forehead.

"You're mine," she said.

-Dragonfly In Amber