#James Fraser Fanfiction

[lilpotatjj]

Cait and Sam watching their own wedding night episode? Yes aaand no. We all know what these two lovebirds did...like come on who wouldn't? I escalated a wee bit. That's one of my longest Oneshots (almost 5000 words) and I'm gonna continue this with a hugh story about them. Living the forbidden lie in all his cuteness.

Warning: starts with super fluffy and lovely cuteness and turns into a soft 18+ hot mess. Sam beeing Sam and Cait beeing most of the time Cait with slightly cute shyness

(Credits to the Gif owners)

♡Chap.1-Directing their own happy hour♡

A crazy year is over. Filming has long since been completed and the premiere of the first season is over. Several interviews have been held and the first episodes are already on TV. It's September, cool and unpleasantly rainy in LA this year and the day before the premiere of the seventh episode. It's called 'The Wedding Night'.

Cait was out and about, drenched after a conversation with one of the co-producers. It was up in the air whether there would be a second season, but the prospects looked good. She didn't think to bring an umbrella. Why in LA, where it is usually quite warm, even in September.

She ran to her car, the newspaper just over her head for protection, and got in. 'Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ... What the hell is wrong with this weather?' she cursed and was completely soaked. She quickly switched on the engine and turned up the heating. As she drove off, her mobile phone suddenly rang in its holder on the dashboard of the car. 'Hey Sam,' she said simply and focussed on the road.

'Have you been bathing?' he asked wryly, obviously making himself comfortable.

'Very funny...the weather in LA almost reminds me of home,' she was finding it difficult to speak. She was shaking a little and had trouble concentrating. 'I'll call you later if it's unfavourable?' he asked and she said no, perhaps a little too quickly. 'Ah ok' he paused for a moment. 'Tell me what's going on, I'll be fine' she said with chattering teeth and he had to smile, sitting up straight again and looking thoughtful. 'What do you think about travelling to my place and I'll tell you what's going on when you've warmed up at my place?' he asked sincerely without any ulterior motives.

Her cheeks flushed, which wasn't just because she was cold. 'All right, I'm on my way. The same hotel as always?' she asked and he replied with a quick "Yes". The rain didn't stop, on the contrary, it even got heavier. She parked the car in one of the parkingslots in front of the hotel and dashed inside as quickly as she could. Once inside, she asked at reception for the surname Heughan. The servant nodded conspicuously. 'Ah yes, Mr Heughan, he had informed me. He's in room 0410,' he said and with a very friendly smile, he pointed down one of the corridors. Cait thanked him and walked towards his room. Once there, she knocked on his door without thinking. He opened it for her and looked her up and down briefly before she simply entered his hotel room. He looked after her, slightly amused, and went into the bathroom.

When he came out again, he found her standing by the radiator, shivering slightly. He went to her and put a towel over her shoulders. She looked at him gratefully and unconsciously smiled far too sweetly. 'Thank you,' she said quietly and his eyes stayed on hers for longer than he wanted. The reason why he grabbed her towel and started playfully rubbing her hair dry. 'You should bring an umbrella next time,' he said with amusement. 'It wasn't raining when I was out' she gave him an annoyed look as he then went to the wardrobe to lend her some of his own clothes.

'Here' He held the clothes out to her wordlessly and she took them hesitantly. 'It's not going to stop raining that quickly for now. You can spend the night if you want. I'll sleep on the couch,' he said as he looked out of the window. She gave him a look of disbelief. 'Oh come on, we slept anywhere on set where there was space and time. You can sleep in the bed with me' she said dryly without thinking about it and Sam turned to her with his typical look, eyebrow raised slightly, he nodded.

She was right. Time on set was often pretty tough. Sometimes there was no time to sleep and filming often lasted well over 24 hours. Sometimes one of the props or simply a bench was a comfortable place to sleep for a short break. But now they are no longer on set, there is no one around to watch them.

'What did you want to talk about?' she asked curiously as she came out of the bathroom, dressed in one of his big hoodies. She almost sank into it and yet it looked great on her. 'Right, exactly... I wanted to ask you if you'd like to watch tomorrow's episode of Outlander with me' he said and she looked at him curiously. 'What episode was it again?' she asked, rubbing her face tiredly. 'The seventh episode,' he said, unconsciously tense. 'oh ok' came from her, benignly ignorant. 'What's the name of the episode, I'm just too tired to remember which one the last one left off at,' she said, pouring herself a sip of the wine on the table.

'The Wedding Night...' She choked and coughed for a moment. Now it dawned on her. It was that episode. She remembered all the scenes on set too well.

'Are you ok?' he asked without making any facial expressions. 'Yes... I'm sorry,' she apologised and put her glass down again for safety reasons. 'But we're going to need more wine,' she said with amusement and her grin was almost unpleasant. The mood was strange. He scrutinised her carefully while she just stared at the wine, motionless and thoughtful.

She looked slowly at him, his gaze still fixed on her. You would have thought he was burning every corner of her face. It made her nervous, but not in an unpleasant way. She felt the heat in her cheeks and stood up abruptly. 'I think I've spilt...I'll be right back' she disappeared into the bathroom in a flash. She was aware of what was happening, or so she thought, but she was still unsure. He was and is her co-partner. What would the media say, Starz or everyone involved in the big picture? She didn't realise she was breathing faster.

'Cait, are you all right?' he asked anxiously from behind the door. 'Y..yes...I'll be right back.' She splashed water on her face and then came out again. 'And you're sure we should sleep in the same bed?' he asked with raised eyebrows, almost admonishingly. 'That's fine, it's ok,' she said dryly and gave him a cheeky look. She stood in front of him. He was so tall that she always had to look up at him. 'But only if you change too...I doubt you want to sleep in those jeans...you already hated them on set' she looked at him challengingly and tugged at his collar. He enjoyed her closeness. It was clear that he had had feelings for her for some time. It was impossible not to, given the sight of her and her wonderful character. But whether she would ever be serious about him was an open question. He doesn't push her, gives her room to manoeuvre and is patient. Like a crocodile patiently waiting to snatch its prey.

He gave her a charming smile and went to his wardrobe, took out more comfortable clothes and looked at her briefly. She sat down on the couch and unconsciously inspected him as he disappeared into the bathroom. He didn't miss her gaze and when he came out again, he saw her sitting on the couch with her head resting on her hand. She grinned at him. 'Do you want to watch something or are you too tired and want to go to sleep?' he asked solidly, closing the curtains. He turned round and noticed that she already had jumped into bed. She snuggled into the big duvet. He laughed briefly and shook his head playfully. 'well...I take it you've had a full day today...want to talk?' he came round and lay down in bed too. They both looked at each other, snuggled together under a blanket, she was quiet for a moment and had to look at him. It's a completely different feeling alone without people from the set. Far away from all the other trailers, other people or cameras. There was no one here. The thought of it made her heart beat gently faster and she almost forgot to speak, let alone breathe, at the sight of him.

'Yeah...I had a call today and two other annoying appointments before that. I've been travelling all day...then there's the rain...I'm honestly glad to be with you right now' the last words came out of her innocently and unusually meekly. She is usually the type of person who says what she thinks, with consideration for the feelings of others. But it's easier with him. She can be whatever she wants, let herself go with him. He listened to her quietly and attentively.

'Sam... what is it between us?' She looked him in the eye and tried to understand the moment. He brushed a strand of hair out of her face with a wave of his hand, ignoring his own pounding heart. 'We're just lying here talking,' he replied briefly in a low voice. Jesus, can't he stop being cute for once? Struggling to concentrate from his voice and the sight of him, Cait swallowed with difficulty, unable to find an answer.

It was so quiet. Neither of them said anything. Her breathing was much faster and without thinking she snuggled up to him, hiding her face in his chest to hide her burning cheeks. She could hear his heart beating softly and realised that it was also much faster. Sam took her carefully in his arms and decided to remain silent for the time being, to savour the moment. He could smell her hair and buried his face in it a little, kissing it and noticed her smile. He did the same and had to smile. As always, no one needs to say anything to understand.

The sun's warm rays tickled Cait's cheeks and she moved slowly. A large, warm body lay close to her. You really don't need a heater when you're lying next to this 1.92m tall man. She grinned happily as she realised who it was. He was still asleep. She took this moment to observe his sleeping form. He looked so content and balanced, still holding her tightly in his arms.

His calm breathing was soothing, like a lullaby. It was nothing new, sleeping with him, hearing his breathing, feeling him against her, his embrace and yet this time it was completely different. She felt a tingling in her stomach at the mere thought of wanting to touch him. It made her nervous and she suddenly looked away from him only to look back at him again. Her gaze kept switching between his lips and the air she was trying to stare into. No Cait...you better not. Once you start, it will end badly... she thought to herself and thought back to their time on set. They often kissed away from the camera. Out of spontaneous situations to practise, of course...right? The heat rose in her face again. She tried to control her thoughts, but her heart was making it damn hard. She didn't even realise that she had come closer to him, her face close to his, her breathing as if she were climbing a mountain that was out of reach. However, with an unmistakable sound in her voice, she freed herself from his grip in a flash and sat down on the edge of the bed.

Without realising it, she was sweating. She clutched her forehead and tried to get her breathing under control. Damn Balfe, a little more self-control! Her thoughts were waging a war she was in danger of losing. He opened one eye and watched her actions. She flinched slightly as he began to stretch and looked slightly to the side in his direction. He couldn't help but grin self-consciously. She was so cute. He didn't know her to be that shy or insecure. On set, they could both let Jamie and Claire hang out, kiss or touch each other however they wanted. Nobody would have thought it was anything serious, at least that's what they both thought.

She stood up abruptly and looked nervously at him. 'I'm going to freshen up,' she said briefly and Sam let himself fall into his pillow with a smile. He wanted the time to last. To savour this precious moment, just with her...just with Cait.

He made breakfast and the rest of the day was relaxed. Except for a few little things Sam had to do this time, the day was uneventful. Cait spent the time in his room and fell asleep on his couch once again. She was far too tired from the last few days, not to mention the previous night. Snuggled up with one of Sam's woollen blankets, she slept peacefully. The blanket smelled wonderfully of him and transported her to dreamland far too quickly. When the Scotsman returned later that day, he saw her curled up on the couch. Still asleep. He put the key away and took off his shoes to go to her. With quiet steps, he stood next to her and looked at her without a word. She looked so innocent. He often did, watching her sleep. Her soft purring when she slept. Her soft smile when he always secretly snuggled up to her, just to be close to her unnoticed. He loved it.

Sam simply stood still for another moment and looked down at her thoughtfully, bent down and got very close to her face. He could feel her breath on him. The corner of his mouth twitched impatiently and he gave her a delicate kiss on her soft lips. His heart did what it wanted and almost ran away from him, but he didn't care. The kiss was short and so gentle that Cait didn't wake up, at least that's what he thought and realised he was wrong. The ball of blanket and the supposed Mrs Fraser inside it moved gently. She opened her eyes just a crack to somehow recognise what in God's name was happening. Sam was already scurrying about, unpacking a few things he'd been shopping for. There were a few bottles of wine and something to nibble on.

She sat up in a daze, her hair in a wild mess and yawned tiredly. 'What time is it?' she asked with a husky voice. 'It's already 7 pm. How long have you been asleep?' He brought two bottles of wine to the table and two glasses. 'Too long... Well, I don't think I'll fall asleep that quickly watching TV,' she said with amusement and ran her hands through her hair to fix it a little. 'Are you hungry?' he asked, unpacking a bag at the same time. It was Asian Food. 'Yes,' she replied curtly and watched the Scotsman without realising it. Her gaze was dreamy, as if she was looking at the jackpot she had won. He came over to her and set her something to eat. She had to smile. Of course he knew exactly what her favourite food was. 'Thank you,' she said and they both ate some of the food.

'Do you remember filming the episode?' he asked when he had finished eating.

'Yes, quite a lot. I'm curious how it was edited. Some days were so long and tiring,' she took a breath and looked at him. 'It was sometimes very difficult to stay relaxed and yet... You made it easy for me to shoot the more difficult scenes,' he said with a smile and looked at her in detail. She couldn't avoid his gaze and was caught up in it. She quickly picked up her wine glass and took a good sip.

Cait laughed softly as she remembered. 'Did you remember the scene when Claire said "go to bed"? God, how many times we replayed that just because our producer never liked the look in your eyes and then I said "to fuck" off camera, or so I thought? Your look afterwards was exactly what they wanted to see and it was recorded,' she laughed and took another sip. Sam did the same and poured the red wine down his throat. 'How could I forget?' his voice sounded ironic with an amused undertone. 'At least it wasn't too cold when we were naked for what felt like 24 hours,' he said and poured more wine.

She looked silently into her wine glass after his words, then raised her eyes and literally stared at him. He's like an accident... you don't want to look but you can't help but stare at him with curiosity and anticipation. Too mesmerised by his gaze, she once again couldn't get a word out. He could throw a bone now and she would run after it like a dog. He raised an eyebrow questioningly. 'The episode is about to start,' he breathed so quietly that she had to think for a moment whether she had heard him correctly.

Sam came closer to her, looked deep into her eyes and was tired of seeing her like this. She was literally begging to be touched. The Scotsman didn't hesitate a second longer and kissed her gently yet firmly. Cait was briefly surprised and yet she accepted the kiss without hesitation. As if they had kissed hundreds of times before, he brought her to him by taking her face in his hand. He stroked her cheek tenderly and was the first to break the kiss. Cait just looked at him. She could have sworn her heart was stuck one floor below. He smiled at her and she did the same, returning his smile with a blissful grin. He took the remote control without another word.

The atmosphere was strangely relaxed, but you could just feel the crackle. He switched on the TV and the episode started. She looked over at him expectantly, so he couldn't help but lean over and grab her, cuddling her right next to him against his chest. Cait took a contented breath and drank more of the wine as she savoured his closeness and warmth.

They both made comments here and there and had to laugh and shake their heads when Rupert and Angus burst in. 'I remember one of them fell badly once,' Sam laughed and they both grinned. Then came the scene where Claire asks Jamie to bed. Both the Scot and the Irishwoman watched the scene tensely and had to smile again and again. 'How many times we had to repeat that...but you did a good job,' she said contentedly to distract them from what was actually happening. Jamie grabbed Claire's breast. 'Christ, how many times you made me laugh, Cait...you kept making jokes about my breasts,' Sam said with amusement and Cait turned bright red. 'Well I was nervous as hell...we had to take our clothes off...I was afraid I'd ruin your view of naked women' she said sheepishly and he took her chin and forced her to look at him.

'my god Cait...how can you say that...' he whispered more and she looked at him nervously and slightly guiltily. Before she could say anything, Sam beat her to it. 'Your body is beautiful.' She stared at him and their gazes parted as the scene came where Jamie plopped on top of her and penetrated her. The situation couldn't have been stranger. It was weird for both of them to see each other like this. It looked a thousand times hotter on the screen than when they were both shooting that scene over and over again.

Sam grinned at Claire's sweet words when she said she gets crushed by Jamie. He noticed Cait's tension, she squeezed her legs tightly together and banished all her thoughts to the farthest corner of her brain cells. To no avail. Sam looked down at her and took the wine glass from her hand. How much had they actually had now? Both bottles of wine were empty.

Cait looked at him questioningly, but she knew the answer. Sam slowly stroked her legs and hesitantly approached her face. Her breathing increased, her lower lip quivering in response to his touch. She closed the gap and kissed him. But this time more demanding and with far less restraint. Gripped by what was on the television, Cait pressed herself closer to him and without thinking about it, she sat on his lap. He gasped briefly under the stormy kisses only to continue on her neck. She let out a sigh. A soft, pleasurable sound that he knew all too well. It had almost always driven him crazy when they gave their all during filming and he wasn't allowed to have her completely. Shooting a scene is one thing. Shooting naked is something else, but constantly filming wild sex scenes in the nude with such a beautiful woman is simply torture. With her playful but otherwise confident character, he would have liked to show how much he really liked her. He constantly had to touch her. On her breasts, her body and getting closer to areas with his face that made him want to seriously give up control of himself.

Meanwhile, no matter what was on the television, she only had eyes for her Scotsman. She looked at him dreamily, losing herself in his gaze. Everything about him is so attractive. His hair, which she now clung to in order not to lose her mind. His upper body, his beard and God damn his face, with his ice-cold blue eyes that almost robbed her of her will. She unconsciously moved onto his lap when she realised that he was already more than ready for action. Now she smirked cheekily at him, causing him to bite his lower lip. 'You little beast....now you're showing your true colours,' he said almost choking and his gaze didn't leave hers for a second. Somehow they knew it, but it was different here too. He took off her hoodie and just looked at her for a moment. As if he couldn't believe what he saw, he grabbed her breasts as if he wanted to make sure they were the same as usual. He kissed one of them gently and played around with the other.

She leant her head back with pleasure and let him do his thing. 'Sam....' she breathed and looked at him, slightly dazed. 'You too....' she whispered excitedly and took off his shirt too. She looked at him with red cheeks. It didn't matter whether it was the alcohol or Sam's fault. No matter who she drank from, she would be intoxicated by both. She touched him on the shoulder and ran her fingers down his neck to the area below his belly button, from which a few hairs flashed out. Sam's eyes were fixed on Cait with an expression as if she were made of glyphs and he was trying to decipher them.

She grabbed his belt with her hand and tried to open it, but this turned out to be difficult when sitting. He grabbed her ass and literally threw her on the couch, took off his pants only to stand completely naked in front of her. Her gaze was discreetly surprised and looked at his best piece. She was not prepared for that now. They always wore protection on set, which didn't help much when Sam had a hard-on, but it covered everything. She swallowed and for a second a shy shadow could be seen in her eyes. "We want to stay fair, my dear," he pointed to her pants and came closer to her playfully. She looked at him nervously and had to smile to cover up her nervousness.

"Do you want to continue?" he asked as a precaution and in answer she nodded and looked at him with a cheeky, innocent face. He grinned confidently and helped her undress. There she was, completely exposed with a red glow on her cheeks. They had both played through this position so many times before, but this one moment now belonged to the two of them alone.

He grabbed her by the hand to pull her up to him. Cait stood directly in front of him and looked him in the eye anything but uncertainly. She literally felt his heartbeat, as if the two were synchronously forming a unit. She took his hands and intertwined her fingers in his. "Caitriona you are so beautiful" proudly sounded in his voice and she smiled happily at him. "Just you and me" she whispered lovingly, looked at him longingly and Sam couldn't ask any more questions, because she had just answered them.

He kissed her, longing and greedy, clawed at her ass to lift her up and faltered briefly. There was no cut, nothing that interrupted them despite the swaying and could stop the lust of both. He let himself fall back a little on the couch, with her on his lap, without even thinking about breaking the kiss.

Now nothing went according to the script. He was the director of this scene and decided how to proceed in accordance with his Irish beauty. She enjoyed every touch, every second and breathed heavier as he caressed her breasts. Cait became more impatient and looked at him almost begging. He grabbed her ass again to lift her and positioned her so that Sam could penetrate her without any problems. He smiled... She was more than ready. A groan on her part indicated that the tackle would continue as he was into her completely. The Hugh Scot didn't want to slow down, not to be careful that something unexpected happened.

Cait moved and he adjusted to her. This time he couldn't help but moan quietly. She rested her forehead on his and continued moving. Regardless of the hotel neighbors, neither of them cared how loud they were.

He had to smile at the sight of her. She moaned subtly differently than when they were filming. It sounded the same as always, but there was a hint of honesty in the sound of her lovely voice. The sound that makes his bones tremble and underlines the pleasure he is really giving her. Flowing through the alcohol and the rush of adrenaline that they both experience and that made them both sweat, he felt how aroused she already was. He concentrated on her to give her the moment of happiness, but had great difficulty enduring it, especially with her moaning. She really deeply enjoying it.

'Sam...' damn it, he tried so hard not to lose control, but moaning his name like that almost pushed him over the edge. He gasped heavily and bit her shoulder. Finally, she felt a wave rushing deep inside her and completely flooding her. She moaned louder and let him feel how much he loved her without ever having said it.

'Sassenach!' He gasped at the same time as her and let himself fall completely as he came inside her, clawing a little too hard at her round ass. She sank exhausted onto his shoulder and gasped for air. Completely out of breath, both of them tried to understand the situation they were in.

'Everything ok...Mo Chridhe?' He hesitated at first, but he had to say it. He loved her and had no doubt that this would ever change. She was too perfect, her temperament, her way of dealing with him and her laugh. God, how much he loved her laugh. The Scotsman lovingly wrapped the wool blanket around her and let her get some air, but it was starting to make him nervous because she was still hiding into his chest. 'Is everything ok, Cait?' he asked nervously. She turned her head so that her face was directed towards the crook of his neck and he could feel her breath. He got goosebumps.

'I love you...' she whispered softly to him. Three words that could throw him off balance and almost made his heart stop. A smile twitched across his lips. 'I love you too... Sassenach...' he said lovingly and playfully and felt her smile. 'What do we tell the producers?" she asked, quite worried. 'Nothing at first. It will be difficult to hide it... at least partially. Maybe they'll let us do it and accept the unspoken facts. Filming should be easier for both of us,' he tried to explain and stroked her back. Suddenly he looked at her with a Jamie expression, as if he had traveled through time in just a second. 'Could you now...' he paused briefly.

'What?' now she looked at him confused. 'I mean we didn't use protection...' he got nervous and the Irish woman had to giggle. 'No...that's out of the question, don't worry' she said. He smiled in relief. 'We missed half the episode,' he said and she snuggled up next to him. 'It doesn't matter...we'll watch it again then" she said with a cheeky undertone and he kissed her extensively.

[littlecrabbs]

I drew 80's rockstar AU Jamie Fraser from @mistresspandorawritesthings 's fic This Ain't a Love Song (which I am in the middle of reading and I LOVE IT SM) This version of Jamie will live in my head forever💖

[dianaforever]

Chapters: 15/? Fandom: Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Jamie Fraser/Claire Beauchamp Characters: Jamie Fraser, Claire Beauchamp Fraser, Murtagh FitzGibbons, Frank Randall, Jonathan Randall Additional Tags: Alternate Universe -Cannon Divergence, au time travel, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Time Travel Outlander, Action & Romance, Adventure & Romance, Some Humor, Explicit Language Summary:

A STRANGER ROLLS INTO TOWN. THE ADVENTURE BEGINS

[rain-shoshana]

The Love Affair at Styles is officially completely outlined! Now I just have to write up a storm. It's so close to being finished I can taste it.

Anyway here's some more excerpts. Inspector Japp and Monsieur Poirot are old friends.

[itsafanficthing]

The Paper Boy - Chapter 7

A03 is here

Saturday. The first week of school was finally complete. Claire had made it through with the help of Jamie and his friends, making a few of her own (the Hunter twins, Louise de La Tour, Frank Randall, and to Jamie's dismay- Tom Christie). She seemed to be fitting in well and as soon as his friends had had their fun with her posh accent, they had accepted her as one of their own.

Homework had piled up despite it being only the first week back and after Jamie finished his Saturday paper run and his morning chores (and a quick visit to the Demon Horse Donas) Jamie was spread out at the kitchen table with his Physics homework. Jenny was making jars of plum, raspberry and blackberry jams, occasionally singing along to the soft music of Fleetwood Mac playing in the background. Jamie studied his current question, twirling his pen in his fingers as he thought it over.

Problem 2.19

Jules Verne in 1865 suggested sending people to the Moon by firing a space capsule from a 200-m-long cannon with a launch speed of 10.97 km/s. What would have been the unrealistically large acceleration experienced by the space travelers during launch? Compare your answer with the free-fall acceleration 9.80 m/s2.

“What’s the question?” Jenny asked looking over at Jamie as the various jams bubbled away on the active top.

“It’s physics, acceleration patterns,” Jamie mumbled before he started to write some rough notes.

“Ye look like yer brain’s about to explode,” Jenny laughed as she turned back to the stove.

“Aye, I think I got it,” Jamie replied absentmindedly before scribbling out his previous answer and correcting his math.

They both worked in companionable silence as the music continued to flow through the kitchen. Jamie paused, looking up at Jenny as she sang along (Rhianna). It had been so long since they had simply enjoyed each other’s company and Jamie realised how much he missed it. They’d both been so busy with the farm and their own lives, that they had lost the joy of just being with each other. It didn’t matter that each were doing their own thing- simply being in each other’s company was a pastime sorely missed by Jamie. A time when Jenny wasn’t trying to parent Jamie and Jamie wasn’t trying to rebel against his sister.

“What’s wrong?” Jenny asked with her back to him, no doubt feeling his eyes on her.

“Nothin’,” Jamie grinned as he looked back down at his notebook.

“What are ye starin’ at?” Jenny asked as she turned around and Jamie could hear the amusement in her voice.

“It’s nothin’, we just have’na spent time like this together in a while. It’s good,” he mumbled somewhat embarrassed as Jenny made a satisfied grunt in acknowledgement.

“Aye, I ken.”

They both looked up at the sound of a knock on the front door, before looking at each other in confusion. Not many people came in through the front door; not many people who knew the Frasers anyway. More often than not people announced themselves as they walked in through the kitchen door.

“I’ll get it,” Jamie said as he stepped away from the table rubbing a hand tiredly over his face. “Could use the break anyway.”

Jenny nodded in acknowledgement before taking one her jams off the stove to cool.

Jamie opened the front door and was surprised to see Claire standing in front of him.

“Sassenach,” he greeted in surprise as Claire smiled at him.

“Jamie, I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” she said blushing slightly. Jamie was wearing his ratty house clothes after a busy morning and he adjusted the hem of his old rugby jersey nervously.

“Not at all, I was just doin’ some homework. Come in.” Jamie stepped to the side as Claire passed him into the house. She smelt like… green- was the first word that came to Jamie’s mind- as if she had just risen out of freshly turned earth.

“I was in the kitchen with Jen,” Jamie said from behind her as he closed the door.

“If you’re busy I can go. Sorry, I didn’t mean to turn up unannounced, even though that’s exactly what I’ve just done. It’s just that I don’t have your phone number and I thought you might have finished with your chores and you might want to hang out, but if you’re busy I can go. I mean I have your house number, but not your mobile. Do you have a mobile? I was just sitting at home and I was bored and I thought that you might be bored as well so I walked over here. I should get a bike because it was much farther than I thought it was, but it’s a nice day out so it wasn’t so bad. But if you are busy I can go.” Claire spoke quickly, hardly taking a breath between one thought and the next, and barely letting Jamie respond as she made her way to the kitchen when Jenny turned around.

“Claire!” Jenny greeted happily as she wiped her hands on a tea towel before trotting over to hug Claire who looked slightly taken aback by the welcome but hugged her back nonetheless.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” Claire’s voice was much softer than when she had been speaking to (at) Jamie and Jamie put it down to nerves at seeing Jenny again.

“Not at all. Jamie was just finishing up his homework, weren’t ye?” Jenny answered as she raised a meaningful eyebrow at Jamie.

“Aye, physics has had enough of my time for a Saturday,” Jamie nodded as he flipped his unfinished homework closed.

“Ye should take Claire around the property, show her the farm, she has’na seen it in daylight,” Jenny encouraged as she turned her back to the pair, clearly having decided their activity for them.

“Unless ye wanted to go somewhere else or do somethin’ else?” Jamie asked as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“That sounds perfect,” Claire answered with a slight blush to her cheeks.

—

Jamie ran quickly to his room to change into something a little more… well, a little more presentable. He didn’t care what his family saw him in, but he did care what Claire thought. She was wearing denim shorts and Jamie briefly worried about her pearlescent skin burning in the hot summer sun. Long slender legs with shorts that accentuated her small waist and shapely arse.

Upon returning to Claire who was waiting patiently for him in the hallway, he offered her some sun protection lotion and she took it gratefully explaining again, that the walk was much longer than she had thought- and the sun much hotter.

He tried not to look at her as she rubbed the lotion on her skin, he knew that there was nothing even remotely provocative about the way she was massaging the sun protection onto her body however, there was something so inherently sexy that Jamie could feel his cheeks flushing as he watched her. He felt indecent and immediately turned away from her to rub some onto his face. Perhaps try and disguise the red of his cheeks as rubbing his skin rather than from his indecent thoughts.

Thank the lord that Claire couldn’t read his mind. He was ashamed of the improper thoughts about her and would be mortified if she ever knew how often his body reacted to her.

When his father had given him “the talk” (a paralysingly horrendous ordeal for the pair of them) he had said that Jamie’s body would react to what he was attracted to, and sometimes without him even realising it. Sometimes when Jamie was least expecting it, or even a simple thought that usually he wouldn’t have even considered to be remotely sexual- his body had other ideas. That brought him some comfort at least. While he was largely in charge of his body, limbs and reactions, thanks to teenage hormones, there was also a lot of which he wasn’t in control.

His Da had also told him that when he met the right woman “he would know”. Jamie was sure that when his father had spoken with him, Brian meant years and years and years into the future. He didn’t mean right now. And so, although Jamie thought that he might be in love with Claire Beauchamp, he had certainly never been in love before, so how was he to know? Yes, she did things to his body, but love had to be more than that.

Other girls had given him a physical reaction of course. There was that one time that Laoghaire had worn a swimsuit- a two piece, that barely covered her body. Jamie had immediately looked away but not before he’d received an eyeful and his body reacted faster than his mind. The cold water that he had jumped in to avoid embarrassment had rapidly taken care of that issue.

Claire though, there was something about Claire. Just being around her gave him a hard-on, which was extremely unsettling when she was doing nothing beyond existing.

“Ready?” Claire asked as Jamie turned to face her. She was smiling at him brightly and he couldn’t help the swell of affection he felt for her. She still had some of the sunblock on her cheek, not quite rubbed into her skin.

“Aye, ye just have a bit of-” Jamie didn’t even think about it, he didn’t even hesitate, his hand was moving of its own accord. He gently cupped her chin while his thumb brushed lightly over her cheek.

Like pearl, satin, marble. Claire’s skin was smooth and Jamie found himself moving closer to her, his thumb making the same motion across her skin, though the mark had more than disappeared.

Her cheeks flushed as she met his eyes and his mouth dropped open, if nothing else to get some oxygen to his brain. Dhia, she was so beautiful, whisky swimming in her eyes, he was mesmerised. He could kiss her. He should kiss her. He wanted to kiss her. He needed to kiss her. Was time slowing down? What was that thumping noise in Jamie’s ears? His own heartbeat?

A cupboard slammed from the kitchen and Jamie could hear Jenny moving around and suddenly the room came back into focus with sudden clarity and Jamie stopped what he was doing. What was he doing? He couldn’t kiss her without her permission. He didn’t even know how she felt about him. She thought that they were friends, which they were, but still, you didn’t snog your friends.

“Lotion,” Jamie finished, “on yer cheek. I got it.” Taking a deep breath he took a rather large and somewhat unsteady step away from her and opened the door before striding purposefully out and readjusting himself surreptitiously.

She could never know the extreme effect she had on him.

—-

“Over there are the chickens,” Jamie pointed out as they walked casually through the back garden. “Ma had a wee vegetable patch over there. The horses are down on the back paddock at the moment, we could go see them?” He suggested without meeting Claire’s eyes. He couldn’t look at her after knowing the thoughts that went through his mind when she was putting on sun protection.

Claire nodded as she followed Jamie to the shed that housed most of the farming equipment.

“It’s a bit of a trek. We could take the bike,” Jamie said over his shoulder.

“I don’t have a bike,” Claire said with uncertainty as she followed Jamie.

“I dinna mean a push bike.” Jamie grunted as he heaved the roller door up to show his dirt bike. “This will be faster.”

“I can’t ride that!” Claire exclaimed as she saw what he meant, “I don’t know how.”

“Aye, but I do, all ye need to do is hang on.” Jamie smiled at her in what he hoped was a reassuring manner as he wheeled the heavy bike out of the shed.

“I… I’ve never been on a motorbike before,” Claire stammered as Jamie kicked the stand so that the bike was standing upright on its own.

“Weel, there’s a first for everything. This is just used for gettin’ about on the farm. I’ve been riding since a’fore I can remember. Ye’ll be safe with me- I promise. Jenny rides on the back all the time.”

“Do we… should we be wearing helmets? Or jackets?” Claire asked nervously as she took a step closer to the bike and reached out to touch it with a shaking hand, as if to reassure herself that it was real and wouldn’t jump start to life on its own and bite her hand off.

“Nah, not for riding around the farm. Trust me. I would’na let anything bad happen to ye.”

Claire looked between the bike and Jamie several times before she seemed to nod to herself and squared her shoulders bravely.

“Alright then.”

Jamie kicked the bike to life and he saw Claire flinch at the roaring sound.

“I promise ye- I will’na let harm come to ye,” he repeated, raising his voice over the rumbling of the bike.

Claire seemed to huff out a sigh before she gripped his shoulder tightly and swung her leg over the bike, sliding forward until she was pressed against him. He could feel the tension in her arms as she looped them around his middle and clung to him.

“And when you’re not there?” She asked with her breath on his neck as he fought not to shiver at the sensation.  

Rather than give a response he released the clutch slowly, applied a little pressure on the accelerator and they were off with a high pitched squeal from Claire.

—

If Jamie had thought that seeing Claire apply lotion to her skin was enough to give him a hard-on it was nothing- absolutely nothing - in comparison to the feeling of her arms around him and her body pressed up against his back, vibrating with the bike. He didn’t go fast, or at least, he tried not to go fast. It usually took him a few minutes on the bike to get to the back paddock with the horses, but with Claire almost squeezing the breath out of him at every bump it took much longer. He didn’t mind. Every second spent with her body pressed against him, her breath on his neck, was a memory that would be burned into his brain forever.

She squealed (in delight or fear, he didn’t know) as they went over a small mound, the wind whipping through both of their hair. She laughed as he rounded the corner and she lent the complete opposite way, trying to counter the tilt and it took a little wobble for him to right themselves.

As they arrived at the back paddock fence two of the horses came trotting over at the sound of the bike. The sound of the bike meant one thing - food.

Jamie shut off the bike and Claire stayed holding onto him.

“Err, Sassenach,” Jamie cleared his throat. “Ye can let go of me now, we’re here.”

Claire scrambled off the bike (off Jamie) and stumbled slightly as she tried to stand.

“Are ye alright?” He asked as he stood the bike up.

Her hair was well and truly windswept, curls flying in every direction, her cheeks were pink with excitement and her smile was positively luminous.

“That was wonderful!” She said happily before she cautiously made her way to the fence between her and the two large horses.

“Aye, we can go faster on the way back if ye like,” Jamie offered, turning back to grab the bag of grain that was hanging off the front.

Claire beamed at him before taking another tentative step toward the horses.

“This is Molly and Shelby,” Jamie introduced as he pulled out a handful of pellets and offered it to the horses. “Molly has been wi’ us for about five years, Shelby we got last winter from a rescue shelter. She used to be real skittish around people but now she canna get enough. Can ye Shel?” Jamie patted the chestnut neck of Shelby while Molly sniffed around for more food.

“How many horses do you have?” Claire asked, standing slightly behind Jamie.

“Seven at the moment, but we’re just housing two of them for the shelter- Manny and Marcus. Shelby, Molly, Thistle, Percy and Donas are ours.”

“Donas?” Claire repeated looking thoughtful. “He’s the demon horse?”

Jamie grinned back at her. “Aye, tryin’ to train him at the moment. He could be great, he just needs a bit o’ discipline. It’s good to have him around the other horses. Someone must’ha done a number on him. Nearly took my arm off the first time I tried to pat him. He was all skin and bones then.”

“Do you rescue a lot of horses?” Claire asked as she bravely took a step towards Molly who immediately started searching for treats on Claire with great huffs from her nostrils.

“No’ a lot. We like to help out where we can. Da says he’d like to start trainin’ up horses to sell, but I think he gets too attached to let them go once they are. Thistle and Percy were Ma’s, they’re gettin’ on a bit now but I dinna think Da can bear putting’ them down. Still probably got a few more years in them yet.”

A screeching neigh came from across the field and a black blur started galloping towards them.

“That’ll be Donas,” Jamie sighed as blur picked up speed, heading toward them.

“He will stop, won’t he?” Claire asked nervously as Donas moved with no intent of slowing down.

“Aye, he just wants to show off.”

Donas did eventually stop after emitting a high pitched squeal from Claire as he ran directly at the fence before turning briskly and running a few laps back and forth. Molly and Shelby, to their credit, hardly flinched as he ran past them, snorting at them and throwing in a few bucks, trying to spook them. Claire had taken a few scrambling steps back from the fence and was somewhat hidden behind Jamie when Donas finally stopped.

“He seems very…” Claire paused as she thought over the word.

“Insane?” Jamie suggested as Donas stopped in front of him and started nuzzling Shelby and Molly out of the way.

“Spirited,” Claire laughed as Jamie held out some grains for Donas, who gobbled them up greedily.

“Aye, that’s certainly one way of looking at it,” Jamie agreed as he slapped Donas’s neck heavily.

“Where are the other horses?” Claire inched closer back to the fence, away from Donas, but closer to Molly.

“Probably right down the back. They won’t come up to the fence till around sunset. The rescue horses did’na have much space to run around, so they spend most of the time just stretching their legs, ‘cause they can. Percy and Thistle like to keep an eye on ‘em.”

“So, I assume you’ve been riding all your life?”

“Aye, since I could sit up straight. Used to sit in front of my Da and he’d ride us around the property. I thought I was so important, ridin’ round, checking on the farm. It seemed a lot more fun as a kid, but when ye can actually help out, everything becomes a chore. What about ye? Have ye ridden before?” Jamie pulled his hand away from Donas quickly as Claire gasped. The horse had gone for a wee nip when he realised that Jamie wasn’t offering any more food. “It’s fine,” Jamie shook off the question before Claire could ask it. “Ye learn to read the horses, and especially this beast. I ken well enough when he’s about to turn on me. So, riding?” He asked again.

“I err, once, a long time ago, with my parents. I was shockingly awful at it and have refused to get back onto another horse since,” Claire answered before tentatively reaching out and stroking Molly’s nose.

“Ye did’na like it?” Jamie asked in surprise, though his brain was spinning with the first time that Claire had voluntarily spoken about her parents.

“I didn’t feel like I was in control,” Claire answered shortly with a shrug.

“Aye, ye dinna like things being out of yer control. Ye’ve said,” Jamie nodded sagely as Molly huffed and Claire’s hands snapped back away from the horse.

“I was only seven at the time,” Claire defended. “If the horse wanted to kick me off, there wasn’t a lot I could do about it, except fly through the air and land.”

“Did it kick ye off?” Jamie asked with a smirk. There was something wildly entertaining about seeing Claire self-righteously angry.

“No, but it could have.”

“When yer riding a horse, ye need to show that ye are in control. That’s why I’m havin’ problems with Donas. He keeps thinkin’ that he’s the one that’s callin’ the shots, but he is’na. I’m the one tha’ put the saddle on him. I’m the one that can take it back off.”

“I was seven,” Claire repeated. “How’s a seven year old, that’s never ridden a horse before, know how to control it!” She exclaimed in exasperation as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Confidence. Fake it till ye make it, ken?” Jamie answered her rhetorical question happily. “I’ve been ridin’ by myself since I was four, trainin’ properly on them since I was six. It’s always been the same. If I believe I can do it, so does the horse. If I have doubts, so do they.”

Claire huffed and rolled her eyes at him.

“I’m serious. It’s why I’ve fallen off Donas so many times. If I doubt myself and what I’m doin’ with him, he’ll boot me as soon as he can. But I just have to pick maself back up and try again, he canna know that he got the best of me.”

Claire reached out to stroke Molly’s nose again and Molly huffed once more. This time Claire didn’t withdraw her hand.

“Bloody intelligent beasts,” Jamie continued as he rubbed Thistle’s neck (Donas having realised that there was no more food had wandered away to eat some grass at the edge of the fence). “And they’re loyal- trusting, once ye show them that ye can be too.”

“Are you?” Claire asked and Jamie saw her swallow heavily.

“Am I what? Loyal?” Jamie asked, turning away from her to look at Thistle. The conversation had taken a much deeper tone than Jamie was expecting and he felt that he shouldn’t look at Claire just now. Rather he should direct his attention to the horses in front of them, as if he was talking to Thistle rather than Claire.

“Can I trust you?” Claire asked softly and it took most of his willpower not to look over at her and read her thoughts from her face.

“Aye, Sassenach. I’d like to think so.”

--

Claire was quiet as they walked around the property. She stopped occasionally to study a plant, making small humming sounds as she thought things over before following Jamie again. It reminded him of when he had first taken her to the town and she had packed her bag full of various weeds on the way, wanting to study them again later. She seemed to be thinking over something carefully but wasn’t quite ready to talk about it. Jamie was more than happy just to be in her company and watch her as her eyes lit up over the wildflowers.

“How’s your paper route going?” She asked suddenly, appearing by his side as he leant against a tree, waiting for her to catch up.

“It’s fine. Keeps me busy, puts a little extra money in my pocket,” Jamie answered, pushing away from the tree. Claire had stopped to look at some mushrooms at the base and he paused waiting for her.

“Did your father want you to get a job, or did you want it?” She asked. Her hands had stilled over the plant, as if she wanted to look busy, but she was waiting on his response.

“Nah, he worried that I wouldn’a get my chores done as well as the route. But I wanted the extra money, and it does’na take long.”

“Why don’t you use the motorbike? Wouldn’t it be quicker?”

“Aye, it would, but it’s a farm bike. I’m not licenced to drive it on roads, strictly speaking.”

It didn’t look like Claire was going to move from the base of the tree, and as she looked back at him curiously, Jamie made up his mind to simply plant himself next to her and just ask her what she was thinking about.

As he plopped himself down and started pulling up chunks of grass, she sat down properly to face him. Though it seemed that he didn’t need to ask her what was on her mind because as soon as she made herself comfortable, words started streaming out of her.

“My parents never wanted me to get a job while at school. They said that studying is the most important thing and that they would worry about the money. Lamb says the same thing, but I don’t even know where I could even get a job in this town. I could run a competing paper route, I suppose, but I don’t think that your Uncle would be too thrilled about that?”

“Murtagh is’na my uncle,” Jamie inputted when Claire paused to take a breath. “He’s my godfather.”

“Lamb is mine. My godfather I mean. He’s also my uncle, but he’s my godfather. That’s why I’m with him now. Would you and Jenny go to Murtagh if something happened to your Father?”

Jamie shook his head, “No, Jen’s old enough to take care of the both of us now. Maybe a few years ago we would have, but no, not now.”

“I didn’t really see much of Lamb until I turned four-no-fifteen. He was always away. He decided that he was going to write a book so he came back to settle in Oxford with us. He hasn’t written the book yet, but I’ve seen a few drafts. It’s not bad.”

Claire was pulling individual blades of grass from the ground and wasn’t meeting Jamie’s eyes. Was this when he was finally going to find out where her parents were? He always wondered, but he didn’t want to push it- especially if something terrible had happened to them. He was about to ask when Claire continued.

“Moving here, to Scotland… it was supposed to be a fresh start… for both of us. He could start writing his book again and I… and I…” Jamie heard Claire’s voice thicken and he glanced up at her to see that there were tears brimming in her eyes.

“Claire,” Jamie said softly, dropping his handful of grass and taking her smaller, delicate hand in his own. “Yer safe wi’ me. Ye dinna need to tell me anythin’ ye dinna want to.”

Claire nodded, biting her lip before shaking her head, as if to shake away the tears. She didn’t let go of his hand.

“The psych- the doctors said that it would get better, that it would get easier. But… I’m so terrified that the moment that it starts getting easier- that I’ll start to forget them.”

“Tell me about them,” Jamie prompted. He surmised that her parents were no longer around, that much was clear, but the way that Claire was talking made Jamie wonder how long they had been gone.

“My mum,” Claire paused to sniff and her grip on Jamie’s hand increased for a moment, “she loves… she loved to laugh, and she has this… this ridiculous laugh that you can’t help but laugh along with her. She snorts a lot, which always makes me laugh more. She’s kind- to everyone- loves animals. It was her idea to take me horse riding. She’s smart, really smart and I’m worried that I’m not going to be as smart as she is- as she wants me to be. Julia. Her name is… was Julia.” Claire took a few moments to swallow and catch her breath before she continued.

“Dad was strict when I was a child. I don’t have a lot of memories of us together, but mum always told me that it was because he was working so hard for us. It wasn’t until I turned eight or nine that I really started understanding my dad. The first time he laughed in front of me, I couldn’t even join in. I was so amazed that he was laughing at something.” Claire sniffed and Jamie nodded along, though she wasn’t looking at him.

“He started… it was like he started to enjoy life and he finally let me see it. He’s stubborn, Lamb says that I get that from him. He expects great things from me, like the piano, school, everything and I don’t want to let him down. Though, I guess I can’t really do that now. Not much left to let down.”

Jamie cleared his throat quietly. “What happened to them?”

Claire shook her head as she bit her lip.

“Ye dinna have to say if ye dinna want to,” Jamie offered quickly. “We can talk about something else.”

“It’s fine. It’s just… They’re dead. People say pass away, but they didn’t pass anywhere. They died.” Claire’s voice shifted and was unnervingly devoid of emotions. It reminded him of how Jenny spoke about their mother sometimes.

“I’m sorry,” Jamie said softly, she was still gripping his hand tightly and Jamie found he couldn’t have let go of her even if he wanted.

“People always say that they are sorry, and… I don’t know, it just feels weird, doesn’t it?”

“I always thought that, at my mam’s funeral. All these people sayin’ “sorry for yer loss” and I remember thinkin’ ‘why are ye apologising? Ye didn’t kill her.’”

Claire laughed quickly and unexpectedly at that, a short, sharp shout that had her grinning and nodding at him. “I used to think the same thing. I think people just need something to say, so they say sorry.”

“Yer probably right.”

They both settled into their own thoughts for a moment, listening to the trees rustle in the wind, birds fluttering from tree to tree, calling out to each other, insects buzzing through the longer grass.

“Mum died first,” Claire said suddenly. “She was at work and collapsed. They thought she’d just fainted… but she had a brain aneurysm. It was so sudden and no one… there were no signs. Dad… Dad was home with me, when he got the call that she was on life support. He left me at home to go, said that he would call me when he got an update. He didn’t make it to the hospital. He pulled out of our street and… and he got hit, drivers side door. No drunk driver. Nothing. Just pulling out onto the street, just unlucky. I didn’t even know until the police sirens.” Claire sniffed and tears started to run steadily down her cheeks. “Both, in one night, separate accidents. What are the chances of that?”

“Claire,” Jamie gasped, “I’m so sorry.”

“The police came to the house to tell my mum that dad was in an accident. Instead they got me. I told them that it was a mistake, that my mum was in the hospital and dad was already on the way. I thought they’d just got their wires crossed. I’ll never forget when they realised what had actually happened. I could actually see the colour drain from their faces.” Claire shook her head and Jamie wished he had a packet of tissues or something to help dry her eyes. “One of them left to get on the radio and I knew that something was wrong.” Claire shook her head, as if she was trying to shake off the memory. Jamie couldn’t blame her.

“Lamb turned up the next day and I’ve been with him ever since.”

“How… how long ago?” Jamie struggled to speak around the lump in his throat.

“It will be 18 months on Wednesday.”

“Claire, I… I dinna ken what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. Bad things happen all the time.” Claire tried to shrug but Jamie could see her trembling, her eyes glassy, and without thinking about it, he gathered her into his arms. It was like a dam breaking and she clung to him as she sobbed.

Jamie’s mind was racing. Both parents in one night. How could someone ever cope with that? Jamie couldn’t imagine. He could feel the tears from Claire soaking into his shirt but he couldn’t care less. He was gripping her tightly, tighter than he otherwise would have, as if holding her so close would hold her together. He could feel his own eyes welling with tears. They were sitting uncomfortably, Claire almost sitting in Jamie’s lap and his legs starting to go to sleep, but he wouldn’t have moved for anything in the world.

His mother's sickness had been long and drawn out and as much as Jamie hated himself for it, in the end he wanted her to slip away just so that she wouldn’t be in pain anymore. He had months to grieve while she was still alive. He got to say goodbye. Claire wasn’t given that luxury. It was all still so fresh to her. When she spoke about her parents, she spoke like they were still here. Jamie remembered doing that with his mother as well. It took many corrections from Jenny for him to finally switch into past tense about his mum.

Slowly Claire’s sobbing turned into shallow hiccups and then she was breathing deeply- her eyes dry. Jamie couldn’t find it in himself to let her go. They’d shared something so deeply personal, thatto let her out of his arms would feel like a tether between them, and he wasn’t ready for that.

“I dinna think ye’ll forget them,” he said softly into her hair. She was trembling. “I have’na forgotten my ma, I worry that I will, but there’s so much of her in Jen and in me that it’s impossible.” Jamie paused as a shudder ran through Claire and she sniffed. “I never met yer ma or yer da, but I daresay there’s a lot more of them in ye then ye give yerself, or them, credit for.”

Claire laughed, surprising Jamie and she slowly sat up, though she held onto his hand again. Jamie felt the separation from her immediately and wished that he could have held her for just a little while longer.

“Lamb says the same thing. I have the short temper of my father, but the same laugh as my mother.” Claire sniffed again and quickly wiped her eyes. “I look atrocious, don’t I?”

Jamie shook his head quickly. Her eyes were red and puffy, yes, but the golden flecks in her brown eyes shone brighter than he’d ever seen them. Yes, her nose was bright red and her lips puffy but he’d never wanted to kiss her more in his life.

“Ye look bonnie, Sassenach. Jus’ bonnie.”

Claire huffed out a laugh and shook her head, disagreeing with him. “You’re much too kind to me.”

“I’m just honest with ye, is all.”

Claire shook her head again, but at least she was smiling now. “Thank you. For letting me talk about that. I haven’t really… I mean, I talk to Lamb, but it was his brother, so it’s hard. But I… I needed to talk about it with someone that didn’t know them.”

“I would have liked to… know them I mean,” Jamie said truthfully.

“Me too.”

—

An easy quiet settled over the both of them as they wandered around the edge of the property. The kind of ease that can only be achieved by sharing something personal that allows you to actually be vulnerable in front of another person. Jamie felt like he understood Claire a little bit better now, though he still had a long way to go. Now he understood why she withdrew into herself and into her own thoughts.

He understood why the first day of school was particularly difficult for her. He understood why sometimes she wouldn’t want to hang out on the weekends. He finally understood what Lamb was talking about when he said that he wanted them to be careful and that she had been through a lot in the past few months. Claire had gone through more in the past year than most people faced in their lives.

Claire still stopped to look at various plants and weeds. Jamie was happy to wait for her as she plucked and picked various plants. She looked relaxed- more relaxed than he had ever seen her.

“I don’t... I don’t want the people at school to know- About my mum and dad,” she said over her shoulder as she picked a flower and smelled it. “I don’t want them to pity me or see me any different. If that’s ok.”

“Yer secrets safe wi’ me, Sassenach. I will’na say anything.”

Claire nodded in satisfaction before she was bent back down looking at other plants. She looked lighter than before, like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

Jamie remembered the first time he had really broken down and told someone how much he missed his mother. Murtagh had been helping with the horses and suddenly it was all too much for Jamie. There were too many memories of his mother in the stables for him to escape. He hadn’t spoken to anyone about his mother’s death since they had buried her. He thought that he had to be strong for his Da and for Jenny. He thought that it meant shoving everything he was feeling deep down and getting on with things. It was a terrible idea and one random day when he was filling a bucket with more food for the horses in the stables with Murtagh was the day that Jamie fell apart.

He could just picture his mother stroking the horses necks and speaking to them softly in Gaelic. Murtagh had been brushing one of the rescue horses and suddenly Jamie was huddled on the mucky straw filled floor sobbing and struggling to breathe.

He was sure that Murtagh had been thoroughly confused. One second Jamie had been refilling the food, the next he was gone.

A panic attack- that’s what Murtagh told him it was. All Jamie knew was that he suddenly couldn’t breathe, like a stone was sitting on his chest and he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking. Then he was crying and when Murtagh finally located him and asked him what was wrong, Jamie could barely speak. At first he’d thought he was having a heart attack, or maybe a seizure, but Murtagh had sat patiently with him until Jamie had calmed down and could breathe normally again.

They’d spoken about his mum then; about how she loved the horses, how the house felt empty without her, how much Jamie missed her, about how guilty Jamie felt for wishing she would just pass away because he couldn’t stand to see her in so much pain and now it was his fault that she was gone. Murtagh had listened carefully, injected his own stories about Ellen Fraser, but more than anything he let Jamie sit in his grief for a moment. He didn’t try to tell him that there was nothing for Jamie to be upset about. He didn’t try to fix any of Jamie’s guilt or pain. He simply let Jamie exist and work through everything he had been pushing down for months.

Once Jamie had exhausted himself, feeling lighter than he had in months, Murtagh stood up, held out his hand for Jamie and pulled him up from the grubby floor. He clapped Jamie on the shoulder, told him that he was proud of him and then promptly went back to his chores as though nothing had happened.

From that day, Murtagh had cemented himself as a confidant to Jamie. Whenever Jamie needed to voice his worries or his anxiety, Murtagh was always there, ready to listen. He hardly ever gave advice, he mostly just listened as Jamie came to the conclusion by himself.

Jamie wondered if Claire had that with her Uncle. Could she go to him when she needed to voice her fears? Perhaps not, as it felt like she had been shouldering the weight of her parents' deaths for a long time and after finally telling Jamie what had happened, she looked much happier.

Grief shared is grief managed- or something like that.

“Are ye ready to head back?” Jamie asked as the horse's paddock came back into view.

“I suppose, if you’re ready,” Claire answered shyly. Her hands were full of various plants she had collected from around the property- meticulously extracted from the ground to keep as much of the roots intact as possible.

“Weel, ye’ll be wanting to get them in water I suppose,” Jamie indicated the plants.

“Yes, of course… I just… how…” Claire stuttered as she looked between the bike and her plants.

“What’s wrong?”

“I need both hands to hold on so that I don’t fly off the back. I just… how do I get these back?” Her forehead creased in a frown as she tried to figure out how to hold the plants and Jamie at the same time.

Jamie laughed, he couldn’t help it. It was the look on her face. A mix of disappointment and confusing thoughts. “Ye can throw them in the bag with the feed. I’m sure the horses will’na mind a bit of dirt with their food.”

An embarrassed sort of smile appeared on Claire's face as she mumbled “oh of course”.

Jamie helped her with her plants, got her situated on the back of the bike, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist once more and with another squeal from Claire, they were off.

[inmyfxith]

Blood of my blood - Part. I

Pairing: Claire Fraser x Jamie's daughter!reader / Malva Christie x Jamie's daughter!reader / Thomas Christie x Jamie's daughter!reader

Warnings: Mention of punishment

Words: 1k3

Within a few months, Jamie had lost all reason to live. Claire had returned to her own time and the Jacobites had lost their fight, forcing the last rebels to flee or face the consequences of their actions. He had become a shadow of his former self, a ghost among the living like most of the other Scottish men locked within the walls of Ardsmuir prison.

His arrival at Helwater had changed some things. Claire still haunted his mind, but his work with the horses made his days more bearable. During an evening of drinking with the other servants, Jamie had surrendered to the love of a woman who was not his wife. She was one of Lady Geneva Dunsany's maids, but that didn't matter to the young man. The alcohol had allowed him, for a moment, to imagine Claire lying next to him and that they were sharing together a moment of tenderness that he had eagerly desired since he had seen her fade away through time and space. However, neither of them had thought about the consequences and repercussions of their actions. The young maid, barely out of her teens, had become pregnant.

The young woman's mistress found out from the other maids who despised Jamie's criminal past, which resulted in the immediate dismissal of the maid without her being able to plead her case to the lady. She also disappeared through the thick Scottish fog, finding a place elsewhere, in a tavern in Inverness. Jamie had never tried to find his passing lover, he knew of her pregnancy and would have liked to see the child, but fate decided otherwise.

In the hearts of many Scots, the defeat at the Battle of Culloden had marked the apogee of the power of the English crown over the lands of the Gaels. From then on, the very identity of Scotland had been annihilated. Clans, kilts, tartans and even bagpipes were now outlawed in the territory now dominated by the Anglicans. Many inhabitants left their homeland for the New World, a land sold as a promise by those who had set foot there, a place where everything was possible and where the smallest peasant had a chance to make a name for himself among the greatest.

Every day, dozens of people would step into the wilds of North Carolina after landing in the commercial harbor of Wilmington. For some, the trip was just one step in a well-laid plan, while for others, like you, the geography of the New World was already quite a challenge.

Your mother hadn't had your luck, the fever had decimated part of your traveling group, and so your numbers were cut in half. Over the weeks, Thomas Christie, the leader of your small Presbyterian community, witnessed the gradual loss of hope around him. The various displacements and threats received by the Native American tribes had not helped to raise the morale of the troops. So he had finally put his pride aside by temporarily submitting to the will of James Fraser, owner of the Fraser's Ridge lands.

This name was not unknown to you, far from it. As a teenager, your quest for identity led you to question your mother about your paternity. Alone, it was out of sheer spite that your mother had agreed to join Mr. Christie's little community. Like the other women deemed unclean by Mr. Christie, she had been forced to confess her sins before the rest of the congregation. Before that, Thomas Christie had asked your mother about it, and although you shouldn't have, your curiosity led you to listen. That's when the name James Fraser first came up, or rather Alex MacKenzie. Your mother had confessed that she had been tempted by this fiery-haired man while her mind was consumed with drink. Her description of the man to Mr. Christie left no doubt in her mind that he was the former Lord Broch Tuarach.

That vision of your mother on her knees, begging for forgiveness that no mortal could grant, made your blood run cold. The conclusion you drew had nothing to do with the facts themselves, simply that you had promised yourself you would never, as an adult, obey a man who would not be your father or your husband. The disease had taken her before you had time to question her further, however, and deep in your heart, a part of you needed to be explored.

When you arrived at Fraser's Ridge, only Roger MacKenzie had the courtesy, or more accurately, the patience, to extend greetings to you. The location of your little company was relatively far from the main house of Fraser's without being miles away. But the winds of change were thickening as the weeks went by and, from what you could see in Wilmington, a revolution was underway.

Although younger than her, you immediately hit it off with Malva Christie, the youngest of the family. Attracted by her strong nature, the young woman knew how to stand up to those around her, and that was the quality you admired most about her. Despite your unique birth circumstances, no one had ever really treated you differently. Discreet and particularly well-behaved, it was not uncommon for others to simply forget your presence.

Very quickly, by following Malva in her various moves, you had become close to the owner's wife, Claire. Talented healer, her precise and meticulous gestures as well as her knowledge seemed so important that sometimes you wondered if what she was telling you was true. Mrs. Fraser was a great source of knowledge and, along with Malva, you sometimes dreamed of taking her place. Your first meeting with Jamie was not until well after you had settled in, when the little church on Fraser's Ridge was finally built. It only took one look at him for your doubts to vanish, James Fraser was your father.

Because of his background, Thomas Christie couldn't stand to see you so close to Claire. Too well educated for a woman of her time, most people she met easily referred to her as a witch. You and Malva's interest in Mrs. Fraser's accomplishments undoubtedly reflected to him the image of his wife, who had been executed for witchcraft years before.

For the sole purpose of getting, you to stop wanting to join her, Tom Christie tended to have a heavy hand when it came to punishment. You and Malva would take turns bending over the table and pulling up your skirt without him ever taking the time to find out who had pushed the other into Claire's cabinet. However, it was obvious that this did not stop you from continuing to learn. The wife of the owner of Fraser's Ridge was not fooled though, she had also been there and could detect the signs that accompanied this kind of event.

However, your life took a strange turn after an evening with Malva. It was particularly late and neither of you seemed able to fall asleep. So, to deal with this, you sat around the fire and talked about things. Without really knowing why, the subject of your fatherhood came up. Malva's curiosity was sometimes so great that the part of you that admired her let down all your boundaries. It was the first time you had spoken relatively freely about this story and the words came out of your mouth as fluidly as possible. When Jamie's name came out, the expression on Malva's face changed dramatically, as if a part of her was jealous of your new situation, and the very next day her behavior toward you changed.

Although you were worried about potentially losing your friend for no reason, you continued to live as if everything was normal until she began to address you in an almost condescending and petty manner. She complained to her father that since your arrival you had been forcing her to meet you at Claire's, blaming you for most of her misbehavior. So, you accepted the punishment, since it was obvious that Mr. Christie would rather trust his daughter than the bastard daughter of a Scot who didn't know she existed.

[heart-taking-root-in-your-body]

Mom sleeping next Me in the middle of the to me: night,reading fanfics:

Gif by @stewartandclarke

[avgeneis]

Does anyone else go through the nearly psychodelic experience of binge fucking reading like 500 pages of a fanfic, and then 2 hours after FINALLY taking a break from it you go "wtf that was actually boring and disappointing as fuck"

[jamieatthebarricade]

Maids to Wives / Chapter 5

In 1619, one hundred and forty-four English women from good families crossed the Atlantic in response to the Virginia Company of London’s call for maids “young and corrupt” to make wives for the planters of it’s new colony in Virginia. One in six of the maids could even claim gentry status. Although promised a free choice of husband, they were in effect being traded into marriage for a bride price of 150 pounds of best leaf tobacco, the profits to flow to individual investors

In 1619, Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp made the voyage to do one thing: marry a man she’s never met. But when she arrives, she comes to the startling realization that her heart belongs to someone else, a certain James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser.

Chapter 5/? : A Known Stranger

Previous Chapters : 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

Find Maids to Wives on Archive of Our Own!

May 22nd, 1619, Claire’s POV

“Dear diary, 

As time passes by here, I find myself enjoying life here more and more. I’ve been less than a week, and since arriving I’ve made a goal for myself to discover something new everyday. Whether it’s a new tree I didn’t notice before or a currant in the river. Yesterday I discovered a field of wildflowers a little aways of me and Frank’s house. I hope to go back there one of these days, maybe take Frank there and have lunch.

Frank and I haven’t had too much time to converse with each other, aside from small pillow talk at night. I ask about his day and he asks about mine. Usually he’s away during the day, in town with peers or overseeing the farms. I suppose I had an unrealistic romantic idea of marriage, that we’d be with each other more.

That’s not to say I mind. Being able to think by myself is a privilege I’m happy to keep. This whole experience has been incredibly overwhelming, so not feeling smothered by my husband is somewhat of a plus, although I’m smothered by a different thought.

The man at the docks. His red hair. His tall statue that stood over everyone else. Since last seeing him I couldn’t stop thinking of him, and guiltily I don’t think I mind. The feelings I have for him aren’t like anything I experienced before. It’s the type of attraction you read about, but never live through. He was this erotic thought in the back of my mind I could pull out whenever I wanted to escape. He was the forbidden fruit, and I wanted nothing more than a taste.

I need to stop myself. As pleasant as those thoughts were, I had a husband. A good husband who was kind and gentle, and who provided graciously for me. I had a roof over my head, and all the free time to frolic and read. I’d been doing better than many of the other women, from what I had observed. Mary was the only other one who seemed happy to be married.

I am seeing Geillis tomorrow, so I’ll ask her then. Although, I can guess her answer. From what she told me of her dream man, her current husband didn’t fit the description. He was old, bald, and fat. From what I observed from far away, she always pulled back when he kissed her. It made me fortunate to have Frank.

I suppose I should stop for tonight. Frank will be home soon, and still have our bed to make. Thank you for letting me release my thoughts.

Love, Claire”

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May 23nd, 1619, Claire’s POV

“What are your plans for the day?” For the first time in weeks, Me and Frank were able to sit down together for breakfast. I had opted to prepare a simple meal of bread and milk, as I still had yet to learn to integrate recipes for my husband. I made a mental note to myself to start that.

“I’m visiting Geillis, my friend from the ship” Frank just smiled and sipped his milk, gazing between me and his food. I found his look charming, and I was happy to receive it. He looked at me with a nurture that was warm and inviting, that said ‘I’ll protect you,’

As he looked at me, I took the opportunity to look at him. Everytime we interacted, it seemed like I was noticing more about his features. His face was quite square, and he had these lines along his cheeks that trailed from the bottom of his jaw, and which became more defined when he smiled (thankfully, he did that a lot). He was balding slightly, but I suspected he’d be one of those men who balded nicely. He had a nice face, and I smiled to myself as I looked at him.

Suddenly the door opened, and Frank’s lesser twin came in. I hadn’t seen Jonathan for a while, as he usually kept to himself for the most part. Sometimes I saw him when I went out for a walk, but I always tried to avoid him. There was something about him that caused me to move away from his presence. It was strange, even though him and Frank looked the same, I knew deep down they weren’t the same person at all.

Frank was annoyed at his brother’s outwardly intrusion, and made no effort to hide it. “What can I do for you?” although the question wasn’t ill-spirited, the annoyed tone of his voice gave away his true feelings.

“There’s a shipment down at the docks. We need to help unload,” Jonathan returned with the same annoyed energy, and I saw the sibling tension between them. Growing up an only child, I’d always wanted a sibling of my own. Living with Jonathan and Frank rid myself of that dream.

Frank turned to me, giving a small smile. “I’m sorry our breakfast had to be cut short, we should try doing this more,” He smiled, and leaned in for a kiss. I happily returned it, and we shared a short peck before he was out the door. I hadn’t even noticed Jonathan was still in the room before I heard his voice,

“Goodbye Claire,” He said. I hated his voice so much, because it sounded so much like Frank. If any part of them shared likeness, it was their voices. Though, Jonathan’s always sounded like it was laced with something. Villainy? That’s what I suspected. 

I gave him a short nod, and thankfully he was out the door. I let out the breath I didn’t know I was keeping in, and looked around the small room. Me and Frank’s half eaten breakfast, a small table with 3 chairs, and a hearth. It was quaint, but it was home.

‘I should meet Geillis,’ I told myself, taking off my apron and looking at myself in the window. My hair was pulled up, and I was hesitant to change it as my hair tended to be untamed down. It wasn’t like I was meeting the queen or anything, I kept it the way it was.

The walk to town was longer than I was expecting. I’d only ever ridden on horseback, but figured today was a good day to take a scenic route. It was sunny, and quite warm. Some of the wildflowers I passed were blooming, and birds filled the sky and sound with their presence. Everything was peaceful until it wasn’t.

It was like a dark cloud came over everything, and the perfect day turned to something worse. Behind me, I heard the rustling of bushes, and slowly the movement of feet. I didn’t even notice my own starting to pick up the pace. A part of me wanted to keep walking. I’d be to town eventually, it wasn’t too far away. I heard the footsteps getting closer and my other thought was to turn around and fight whoever this demon was.

I chose that option, turning around and screaming, at the same time punching whoever was my chaser one. The person fell to the group, clutching his nose in his hand. It was an old man, with a bushy beard and a smell of alcohol that filled my senses quite quickly. I didn’t recognize him, and surely thought that whoever it was meant to hurt me.

Before I had time to breath, I heard another pair of footsteps being him. ‘This can’t be happening’ was I being set upon by highwaymen? Were these a band of bandits intending on stealing or hurting me? I quickly ran the opposite direction to my house, but whoever was chasing me was faster. At some point I would need to fight and that time would be now. 

I turned, and punched at whoever it was quickly. He doubled over, but didn’t fall like the other. When I looked at who it was, my breath caught in my throat. The man had bright ginger hair, and I’d only ever seen that color on one other person.

------------

A/N Thank you all for reading!! I’ve been in a writing mood lately so hopefully expect some new stuff out! Have a great day yall :)

[lilpotatjj]

Couldn't wait to write it all down. Our sweetheart Cait became emotional after taking off her wig for the last time. And we all ken that there's only one person she gets the comfort right? Here ye go (it's a wee bit longer as I thought..should I be sorry?..nae ;) )

Warning: sweet comfort and some sadness and a wee bit of drama. And a Sam that is so in scots character 😂👀

One last time

There it lay...a simple scrap of hair. Simple? It was anything but simple. This wig was a part of her existence, her life. It had been with her for eleven years and it was hard to believe that this was the last time it would be taken off. She tried to pull herself together and put the mobile aside, the tears still in her eyes. Recorded for eternity and for those who made it possible to embody Claire Fraser for so long. The fans. She looked silently into the mirror and suppressed a small sob as she fixed the rest of her own hair. Sam hadn't finished when she got up and left the trailer quietly and without a word. He looked after her anxiously and thoughtfully, oblivious to the fact that he had unfamiliar hands halfway down his face. A smile, a small and heavy smile was on her face as she left and she tried to keep her composure. She always did. Pretending to be strong and trying to look professional, which she usually managed quite well, but...not today.

When Sam had finished, he stood up in a flash, like a horse just waiting to race to the starting line. He came out and looked around. There were other smaller trailers everywhere. It was already starting to get dark and the whole set was in an after-work mood. He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. Sam walked slowly through the various crowds. Cait had been tense all day, then the photo for 'The Last Wrap'. She didn't have a single second to herself. He kept getting a hand slapped on his shoulder or back as a sign of excellent work and gratitude, but he hardly bothered to respond. Here and there a small nod of thanks and a smile as he meandered past the people.

He couldn't find her, not even in her trailer. He decided to go into the hall to the set and bumped into Sophie. "Have you seen Cait?" he asked her, unconsciously worried.

"Sam! Ah...yes, she was walking towards Lallybroch's set" she said, adding "Are you coming to the bar for drinks tonight too?"

He raised his hand in thanks and nodded, but left without saying anything to Sophie's astonishment.

"Okay?" she mumbled quietly, shrugging her shoulders as she left too.

A huge room with green and blue screens opened up to him as he entered. Parts of masonry could be seen. Lallybroch. The heart of the set. There she stood in the middle of the walls. He went to her and gave her space, standing a little apart behind her to enjoy the silence with her. It's so ironic, the usually loud hustle and bustle of the set during filming was stifled. You'd think no one had been here for centuries, as if only ghosts were wandering around. She didn't move, although she knew it was Sam standing with her. She could feel his aura very clearly, the same as every day. It could have been anyone, but she would recognize his from thousands.

He finally came a little closer to her, stood close behind her and followed her gaze across the huge set. She wiped her face, not turning an inch. She knew that if she did that now, the dam of her whole frame would break. The actually positive advantage of being able to let herself go with him and only him. But now she felt it was a weakness. She didn't want to cry, not over something so trivial. That's what she thought. Sam took a quiet breath and cleared his throat. He knows her and knows that it's better not to push her now. She'll come to him when she needs him, just like always.

"The others want to go partying, have a drink. Are you coming?" He asked carefully to give her room to breathe. "Of course!" she sounded completely normal as she turned to him. There it was, the smile that could have melted him, but... it had a bitter aftertaste. "Let's go, I want to freshen up quickly and then we can go," she said, playing relaxed. Yes...acting, but she can't do that to him. If anyone could keep their composure, it was Sam. Not Cait. She was Claire through and through when it came to interpreting emotions, she couldn't lie. In front of anyone else...but not in front of him.

He followed her to the trailer and didn't bother to wait outside. He didn't care what anyone else on the set thought. He had to stay with her now, make sure he was there at all times. After all these years, he just wanted to think about her and not worry about what others were saying or thinking about either of them. Cait looked at him in surprise for a moment, hesitantly closed the door and followed Sam with her gaze, who simply sat down on one of the small benches and stared out of the window. She paused briefly, then went to change her clothes and freshen up, only to stand in front of him ten minutes later, ready to go. He stood up and grinned at the sight of her. "You're far too pretty for tonight my dear" he said more proudly than jealously. She smiled sweetly at him and studied him silently for a moment, giving him a kiss on the cheek. It was breathy, almost apologetic, which was why he scanned her curiously.

"We should go before I change my mind mo chridhe" She giggled affectionately at his words and they both left the trailer.

When they arrived at the bar, they joined the others. There were quite a few of them. Sophie, Richard, Lauren, John and César were also there. When they arrived at the table, the others cheered them loudly, glasses were raised and everyone roared. Sam laughed contentedly, gently placed his hand on Caits back and took one of the whisky glasses to clink glasses. Cait gave Sophie a hug and took a glass too.

"Slainte!" the Scot called out loudly and everyone joined in. with one big draught, almost everyone drank the glass empty together while the music played loudly in the background. "So James Fraser!" said Sophie and continued with a smile. "Let you and your Sassenach celebrate hard today!"

His face lit up with joy and he raised his newly refilled whisky glass. "Not just me, but my wonderful partner Cait, as well as all of you!" They raised their glasses again, but at Sam's words, the Irishwoman stared at him silently for a moment, then drained her glass in one go, which Sam just looked at silently. They all talked about the wonderful memories of the last eleven years. Everyone had a lot to say, except Cait, who was quite silent. Had agreed here and there or made a quick comment. Richard was in his own world, having another drink.

As Cait poured herself her 5th glass, the Scot stopped her without thinking. "Ok, slow down babe the evening is still young" She looked at him in disbelief. He knows what her limit is, but she didn't really care at the moment. Fully focused on Cait, Sam didn't notice the looks from the others, which he had caught with her nickname.

Now it was Richard who interrupted the tension and drew the puzzled looks when he distracted the group with a question.

"Do you have any ideas or other projects for the future?" Everyone joined in and suggested ideas or said no, including Cait. "I'm sure it won't be easy to switch off Claire after all this time. But you have so much talent, you could play anything," Sophie said without thinking and received a serious look from the Irishwoman for this statement. Cait stood up and politely excused herself, all eyes fixed on her. Sam did the same and rose to follow her. She went out into the fresh air, breathing faster, doing her best not to lose her composure completely now. Sam came out to her and saw her pacing back and forth, slightly upset and with tears in her eyes. He stood there, still hesitating, he knew her.

"Do you want to go?" he asked calmly and she looked to him for help. That was the hint. He went to her, took her in his arms and simply held her tightly. "We're going..." he whispered softly and lovingly and she just nodded silently, hiding her face in his chest. Sam gave her time and gently hugged her tighter, then took her to his car. Thank God he only had two whiskies.

"I'll let the others know," came from him briefly and as quickly as he was in, he was out again. She sat quietly in the passenger seat, looking at him apologetically as he got behind the wheel. "You don't have to look like that, it's all right. The others are having fun without us," he said in his soft voice, but she looked out of the window briefly as he started the engine. "That's not it. I didn't want to ruin your evening," she said, again with an innocent look. Sam snorted in amusement. "Cait as long as I'm with you every night is saved" he spoke seriously and smiled sincerely at her. "I just need you mo chridhe"

She gave him a wistful smile, she was happy. He stroked her chin and smiled at her with his typical wide grin. "And now let's check into the hotel" he drove off, concentrating on the road and sensing that Cait was still tense.

When he arrived, he looked at her quietly.

"So Claire Fraser" he rolled the 'R' especially and started speaking in Jamie's accent. God she loved his Scottish accent, but it's exactly what her heart doesn't want to hear right now. Cait ignored him and fussed with her hair. "Ye cannae hold it in forever," he said, letting Jamie hang out in full conversational tone. "Stop it Sam, we're not on set anymore," she said annoyed and snappy. He raised his typical eyebrow and walked slowly towards her. "it winnae get any better if ye dinnae let it out...~Claire~!" He emphasized the name of her second life again and made zero effort to stop. She turned to him and scowled. "You're not Jamie!" she commanded rather than saying it. "hm.. nae?" he couldn't ask more Scottishly and grabbed her arm, gently but firmly. "Cait, we've lived these roles for eleven years, they're a part of us and they'll be a part of us forever!" he said sternly, not even thinking about locking the Jamie inside him away. "But it's over now, damn it!" she hissed and tried to pull away. He was beginning to feel like he was filming a scene on set with Claire rather than arguing with Cait herself. She finally clung to him as she gave up. She knew he was right... right from the beginning. But the painful thought that it's over forever is too great.

At last he had her where he wanted her. She could no longer hold back the tears and hid her face in his chest while he held her and stroked her head. The Scotsman gave her a gentle kiss on the head every now and then. It took a while before she finally calmed down. She swallowed it for too long and didn't let it out. Otherwise so tough, it's still not such an easy path. After all, it is the goal that has been irrevocably achieved.

Eleven years of hard work and so many memories. The fact that she had met and fallen in love with her husband there weighed deeply. He picked her up bridal style and carried her to the couch in the room. "It's okay my love...I'm so proud of you. You've done such a great job all these years" she laid her head on his lap. "That's what the right person says...without you, the show would only be half as good!" she said with charming sweet but tired smile and grabbed his chin with his slight beard stubble.

He returned her smile just as lovingly, leaned down and gave her a kiss on the lips. "It doesn't matter what the future holds for us, as long as we're together I don't care," he couldn't say it any sweeter and stroked her silky, dark hair lovingly. She just looked at him in love, the blush on her face full of happiness to have him with her.

"Do you want to watch something?" he asked and she nodded silently. Sam switched on the TV and pulled her closer to him. "My Sassenach," he said quietly and proudly.

"My red-haired, stubborn and hot-headed Highlander"

[isthisclever]

Power Jam | Outlander Fanfiction

Chapter 6: Afar

When it came to letting loose with a stiff drink and a good meal, Thirsty Thursday had clearly usurped the crown previously held by TGIF. Or, at least, thus Claire deduced as she stood in The Ridge's lobby, squished between Geillis and Louise on one side and a pair of middle-aged women in business attire on the other. From noon to 4:00 every Thursday, The Ridge lured in diners with half-priced cocktails and a surprise chef's choice appetizer that changed weekly. And as a result, scores of hungry diners arrived early and stretched their lunch breaks to enjoy a meal, a drink (or two) the boss need not know about, and the utter relief of knowing that Friday had almost arrived.

Judging by Geillis's pout and crossed arms, the dense crowd and the beeper held in hand severely dampened any near-weekend relief as they stood, awaiting an open table. "I swear I made a reservation," she huffed.

Louise only laughed, uncrossing her twined arms and lacing her ten fingers with Geillis's. "Don't worry over it, G." A sweet smile dimpled her cheeks. Her mild French accent lent her words a cavalier air. "I do not mind waiting."

"But it's yer birthday. Ye shouldna have tae wait on yer birthday."

"And we will not," Louise answered, sweet morphing into wily. She nudged Claire with her elbow without loosening her grip on Geillis's hands. "We are off today, which means we can wait at the bar, and the time will fly like that," she finished with a snap of her fingers.

Claire nudged her back with a smirk. She'd hired into the Royal Infirmary A&E nearly four years ago, two months postpartum, and had worked alongside Louise on a heart-stopping multi-car pileup her second day on the job. An instant friendship had sprung up, for which Claire -- short on female companionship -- had been all too grateful. Exploring Edinburgh on a random Saturday night out a few weeks later, they'd stumbled upon the Reekie Rollers in their seasonal debut bout. A starstruck Claire had dragged Louise to the after party, where a gregarious Geillis had spent hours going over the finer points of derby. But her green eyes had sparkled just so whenever they'd lighted upon Louise, who had little interest in the game but left that night with G's phone number. Claire, on the other hand, departed with a soon-to-be best friend and a budding obsession. Six months later, after she'd weaned Quinn and was cleared by her physician (and with no little prodding from John), Claire had bought skates and attended her first practice.

So, as far as Claire was concerned, she owed Louise twice over.

Keep reading on AO3

Start from the beginning

[isitgintimeyet]

Just a Friend

Sorry you’ve had to wait a few more days. i had a much needed few days holiday in Devon. And I realised it was the first time since February that I’d travelled more than 20 miles from home!

Anyway, we’re on to chapter 7. Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy

Thanks to @wickedgoodbooks for the beta.

Previous

AO3

Chapter 7: From Feedback to The Force

I can see it clearly in my mind’s eye. A converted barn, situated at the end of a leafy country lane, surrounded by fields full of cows and maybe a horse or two. Jamie’s office will be at one end— all exposed beams with classic mahogany and leather furniture. Perhaps chickens will be roaming around outside as tractors pull up to deliver vegetables straight from the neighbouring fields.

This image begins to fade as I follow my Sat nav instructions and take the next junction off the motorway. Country lanes look to be few and far between in this urban sprawl. Signposts along the tarmacked road point to a series of industrial estates. At the fourth such sign, I’m instructed to turn left and in three hundred yards will have reached my destination.

Having parked up, I make my way towards the large, uninspiring building which resembles some sort of aircraft hangar. Its grey concrete and corrugated iron walls match the overcast sky and the roughly surfaced car park. The only colour in this landscape is provided by the bright orange FraserFood logo emblazoned above the loading bays.

There’s a single door to the right with an intercom. I press it and wait a few seconds.

“Hello, there.” A cheery voice greets me. “Can I help ye?”

“Yes. Hello, I’ve an appointment with Ja— Mr. Fraser, Jamie. It’s Claire Beauchamp.”

“Aye, come on through. Jamie is expecting ye. Down the passage and third door on the left.”

I step into a long corridor, painted an unoriginal white. Fluorescent strip lights hanging from the ceiling cast a harsh brightness. The floor is covered with grey carpet tiles.—the same as in thousands of other working offices across the country.

What sets it apart and brings character to the otherwise anonymous environment is the artwork. Colourful photographs line the walls — a bowl of strawberries, their red glossiness accentuated by the white porcelain; a perfect corn on the cob, rivulets of melted butter flowing around the kernels; a plate of steaming tagliatelle, the parmesan shavings falling gently onto the pasta. Then, as I move further towards the office, the photographs change to a series of images that I instantly recognise, La Boqueria, one of the food markets in Barcelona.

I pause for a moment in front of a picture of one of the stalls selling spices. Strings of different chillies cascade down from the metal frame of the stall. The vibrancy of that market was intoxicating, the noise, the colours, the aromas. I remember wandering from stall to stall snacking on fat, juicy olives, slices of spiced ham and wedges of refreshing melon, just soaking up that atmosphere.

My stomach automatically rumbles at the memory just as Jamie steps into the corridor.

He laughs at this unconventional greeting. “And good day tae ye too. Ye found us alright then?”

“No problem. Sat nav brought me straight here. It’s—“ I stop myself before I say any more, but, as usual, my glass face gives me away.

“C’mon. What is it? It’s no’ what ye were expecting, is it?”

“No— yes—no. It’s fine. It’s just, well, I was expecting something more, er, rural… rustic, you know.”

He sighs, but I can tell that he’s not offended. “What, ye mean like on a farm? Wi’ chickens running around? And tractors bringing the vegetables straight from the fields?”

I nod, feeling not a little bit foolish.

“And down a wee winding country lane, that yer lumbering great vans and lorries have tae drive along? Wi’ no easy transport links fer all the deliveries? And having tae deal wi’ all the food hygiene standards in some great old barn?” He laughs. “Trust me, it may no’ be photogenic but it’s the best place fer the business.”

He takes my arm. “Let’s go intae ma office and I’ll make ye a cup of coffee.”

My stomach rumbles once more. “Don’t suppose you’ve got any of those lovely Spanish biscuits too, have you?”

*********

The display of colourful photographs continues in Jamie’s office. I don’t recognise the scenes, but, I’m guessing these are more local— fields of corn bordered by old drystone walls, hedgerows bursting with dark jewel-like brambles. I pause at a picture of an ancient stone mill, the calm water of the mill pond reflecting the rundown building perfectly.

“That’s a bonny picture, is it no’?” Jamie’s voice is low in my ear.

I turn around. He is standing behind me, gazing intently at the picture.

“It is. Where is it? I’m guessing it’s somewhere here in Scotland.”

“Aye, it’s the old mill at Lallybroch.”

“Where you grew up?”

He nods. “Generations of ma family used that mill tae grind flour fer them and their tenants. It’s empty inside now. The wheel has long since rotted away. Jenny and I would escape there whenever chores were tae be done. She took the photo, weel, most of the photos here actually.”

I study the photograph more closely. “She’s very talented as a photographer. Is that her job?”

“She’d love tae have done that, but once she married Ian and the bairns started appearing, she hasna got the time. Mebbe one day.”

He moves past me towards his desk and I catch a hint of his musky cologne. I find myself comparing it to the slightly synthetic cologne that Frank always favoured. I decide that Jamie’s is preferable. It’s more real, somehow, earthy and, well, more masculine.

“... does that sound ok?”  

I realise that whilst I was considering male scents, Jamie had been asking me a question. “Er, sorry, I was miles away. What did you say?”

“Am I really that boring tae ye?” He laughs. “I said I would make ye a coffee and invite Rupert tae come in and join us. He’s our Head of Product Development. Will ye no’ take a seat?”

I sit down on one of the chairs arranged around a circular meeting table and take a good look at the office while Jamie makes a phone call. The walls and ceiling are the same uninspiring white, livened up by all the photographs. There’s a couple of framed photographs near Jamie’s chair that seem to be more personal. I’m too far away to be able to see clearly, but they look like children... his nephew and niece perhaps?

Jamie’s ‘L’ shaped desk is made of grey wood, as is a tall bookcase and this meeting table. Simple, but clearly a considered purchase, no haphazard grouping of random furniture. The desk itself is remarkably free from clutter— just a laptop with two huge screens and a black leather document wallet. The contrast to the clutter on the desks in my office and home couldn’t be greater. Not that my clutter isn’t important to me—a collection of pots and dishes from my uncle’s archaeological digs plus a paperweight and letter opener that I remember, as a young child, at my parents’ house. Then I realise, looking at the family portraits surrounding Jamie’s desk, that he doesn’t need to gather mementoes from the past. He has a living, breathing close knit family creating memories all the time.

I’m well aware that most of my friends have more of a family than I have, or have ever had, and generally I’m fine with that. But every now and again it hits me right in the gut—this pang of...not loneliness, but more of being disconnected, rootless.

Before I can dwell on this,  there’s a faint tap at the door. It opens immediately and a woman stands in the doorway.  She’s easily past retirement age, quite short and… is sturdy a polite descriptor? Well, short and ‘motherly’ in appearance.

She’s very smiley too. Her eyes crinkle as she grins broadly before speaking. “Jamie, lad. I’ve come tae see if ye both want a coffee. I dinna mind making it. And mebbe a few biscuits?”

Jamie steps away from his desk. “Ah, Mrs. Fitz, how d’ye always ken what I want? Coffee would be grand. And fer ye Claire?”

“Coffee, please. Lovely. White, no sugar. Thanks.”

She looks at me for a moment before Jamie makes the introduction. “ Claire, this is Mrs Fitz. She’s worked wi’ me since I started and I dinna ken what I’d do wi’out her.”

He reaches across and pats her arm gently.

“Mrs. Fitz, this is Claire, a friend of mine. She’s been trying out our Spanish dinner party menu and has come tae meet wi’ Rupert tae give him her opinions.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Fitz.” I hold out my hand.

She takes it in both of hers. “And it’s lovely tae meet ye too, Claire.”

She turns away and heads out the door.

“Right-oh. Two coffees it is then,” she says clearly, then carries on muttering under her breath as she leaves. “Friends, is it, then? A bonny lass, sure enough…”

Jamie smiles apologetically. “Mrs. Fitz can be a bit, weel...she’s been working with me a long time. She’s like a second mother tae me…”

He leaves the sentence unfinished, but I know what he’s thinking. Why can’t people understand that we’re friends, that’s all?

*******

Rupert is a complete delight, but somehow not what I was expecting. He rushes into the office just as Jamie and I are drinking our coffees. Nearly as tall as Jamie but quite a bit broader with a large beard, like an overgrown teddy bear, and clad in a sweatshirt and baggy ill-fitting jeans, he looks as if he would be more at home on a rugby pitch rather than in a development kitchen. With Jamie now standing next to him, the office suddenly feels rather small.

Jamie makes the introductions and we settle once more around the table. Rupert places his notebook and pen on the table.

“Ye dinna mind if I take a biscuit or two, do ye?” He asks, with a smile. He knows how tasty they are.

Jamie and I shake our heads and Rupert reaches out and takes two in his large, fleshy hand. He starts to eat, sprinkling crumbs all over his notebook.

“Ye canna take me anywhere,” he says as he tries to sweep the crumbs into his hand.

Jamie laughs and playfully punches Rupert’s shoulder. “Weel, ye can… but only the once, mind.”

There’s an easy camaraderie between the two of them. I’m guessing that Jamie has worked with the same people for quite a while. It’s good to see.

Rupert swallows, picks up a tissue and wipes the stray crumbs from his beard.  “Right-oh. So, Claire, thanks fer doing this—“

“No, I should be thanking you. It was a great meal.”

“Weel, glad tae hear that, but I would appreciate any improvements we could make. Is there anything we need tae change?”

I’ve been racking my brains all the way here, trying to think of something constructive to say rather than just reeling off a list of compliments, nice as that would be for Rupert and Jamie. And, honestly, I don’t know what more I can add. The food was excellent, the wine matched perfectly and the olives were a thoughtful addition.

I tell them all this and Rupert solemnly notes it all down. Sitting there, side by side, elbows almost touching, they look for all the world like two proud parents being complimented on their child’s talents. But they have every right to be proud.

“And nothing else?” Rupert persists. “Nothing we could do better?”

“Well, a couple of tiny suggestions. Maybe a few more pictures with the recipes would help. I’m not the most gifted cook.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Jamie trying to suppress a smile. He’s never seen me in the kitchen, maybe he’s imagining me as some sort of culinary disaster area. I vow to prove him wrong at some point.

“And,” I continue as Rupert scribbles in his notebook. “Perhaps add a couple of suggestions to complete the Spanish night. I made sangria to start the evening. Could you add a recipe for that?”

Rupert closes his notebook with a flourish. “Right then. Thank ye sae much fer that. Glad yer friends all enjoyed the food.”

He stands up, shifting the table as he does so.

“Weel, bye then, Claire. Lovely tae meet ye. Hope tae see ye again.” He shoots a quick look across at Jamie before leaving.

“Rupert’s a lovely guy,” I comment as the door shuts behind him.

“Aye, he is that,” Jamie shifts in his seat. “Listen, I need tae ask ye a favour.”

“Another one,” I joke. “Wasn’t the dinner party enough?”

I add a sigh, purely for dramatic effect.

“Ye can say no if ye want tae,” he continues. “But I was wondering… weel... Ian, that’s Jenny’s husband, his rugby club is having a charity dinner dance a week on Saturday. Jenny’s bought two tickets fer me and a plus one. D’ye fancy it? It would help me out of a wee bit of bother with ma sister.”

Now I’m intrigued about his “wee bit of bother” with Jenny. I don’t want to end up in the middle of some sibling squabble.

“How so?” I’m not giving an answer straight away. At least not until I know what the bother is.

“Jenny bought the two tickets fer me a couple of months ago. I think she was assuming I would bring Laoghaire. But ye ken what happened there. Anyways, she asked me yesterday about it, and ever so casually suggested I might bring Kelly— that was ma date the other night.”

The pattern of Rupert’s crumbs on the table appears to suddenly be of great interest to him. He studies them intently as he talks, his ears turning slightly pink as he does so.

“And?” I prompt him.

“And, I told Jenny that after Laoghaire and I broke up, I didna want tae disappoint her about the dinner and so I’d already asked ye tae come along. As a friend,” he hastily adds the last part.

So, what do I decide? I do love the opportunity to have a bit of a dance and rugby club dos are usually a bit of a laugh, in my experience. And of course, I know Jamie is offering as a friend, so I’m not worried about that.

“Why don’t you want to ask Kelly then?” I want the full story before I give him my answer.

“She’s a nice enough lass but I didna think we had any spark. Plus she was trying too hard. Fer example she asked me what films I liked, then when I told her, she was all ‘no way, they’re ma favourites too’.”

He adds gestures at this point, to demonstrate Kelly’s actions, one hand flapping excitedly, the other resting on my sleeve, lightly stroking through the fabric of my shirt. It feels—

“Apparently we have exactly the same taste in films, music, food, drinks, television and holidays,” he continues as he sits back and folds his arms.

“Sounds like a match made in heaven to me.” I joke. I can still feel the sensation of his hand on my arm.

He looks up at me and frowns. “I’m no’ joking. Ye would be helping me if ye came as ma plus one.”

“Ok then. I do know that I’m not on call. I can come and be your wingman, if you like. Just one question. What are your favourite films?”

“Star Wars.”

This wasn’t the answer I was expecting. He doesn’t seem like a typical fan. Maybe he has a dark side that I haven’t yet seen, with a secret stash of Star Wars figures and multiple light sabres.

“I’ve never watched any of them.” It’s true. I seem to be in the minority but I just don’t get the appeal.

“And I can tell from yer face exactly what ye think of them. But they’re classics, weel most of them, anyway,” he starts to enthuse.

I shake my head. I can’t see that he will ever convince me.

“Well, Sassenach, have I got a treat in store for you!”

And, worryingly, it seems that he’s up for the challenge.

[let-the-dream-begin]

A Place to Belong Chapter 14: If Not For Love

Chapter 13

Read on AO3

Claire rubbed Lambert’s tartan bow between her thumb and fingers. She’d been sitting by the fire with her baby's little toy for a while now. It was a month since the Redcoats had come and destroyed the bit of peace she’d created for herself.

“They burned it, Claire…his coffin as well.”

How she had screamed, how she had raged.

“We can have another casket made, Claire. Bury it again, fix everything so it’s just as it was before — ”

“No,” she spat. “I’ll not fucking do it again. I will not.”

“I willna do anything ye dinna agree with sister.” She went to take her hand, but Claire yanked it away. She did not miss the pain in Jenny’s eyes.

“Would ye have me fill it wi’ dirt and nothing more? Whatever ye think is right, Claire. I want to fix it for ye.”

“You can’t.” Claire stood up.

She was being unfair. She knew it. But the true source of her anger, her utter fucking rage, was not here, and even if they were, they were untouchable. So she fled, she fled Jenny even as she called out to her, in pain. She fled to her room, slamming the door behind her, and collapsing against the door to scream in rage, in anguish.

After hours of screaming, the cot caught her eye. And then she'd remembered.

She’d held onto that little lamb and cried for hours.

And now every day since, she spent time rubbing the fabric between her fingertips, willing her flesh to become one with the colors that Jamie had been so proud of.

Ian had been returned to them about a week later. Jenny had sent Fergus into the village to inform the mason and the carpenter to alter their records of the purchase of the stone and the casket. They’d done so unquestioningly, and so with evidence supporting that Ian was not the pegleg in question (even though he was), the Redcoats had no choice but to release him. Jenny had admonished him and verbally torn him apart for going to the moor in the first place, all while kissing him and crying with relief.

A soft kick brought Claire back to the present, and she smiled.

“Why, that was very kind of you, darling,” she said softly. That was certainly one of his gentler kicks. “You want to see Lambert?” She knew it was foolish, but she put the little lamb on her stomach and let it balance there. “Since you asked so very nicely.”

She giggled to herself at the silliness of it all.

“Oh…my baby.” She caressed him, nearly fully grown as he could be inside her. “I’m going to have to share you soon, aren’t I?”

If Claire was being honest with herself, no matter how much she complained about being pregnant, no matter how badly she ached all over, she almost didn’t want to give birth. She’d come to cherish his moving around inside her, she’d come to truly believe that he could hear her when she spoke to him, and that he was kicking in response to his mother’s voice. The conversations they shared felt real to her. The way things were now, he was safe, in her womb, protected.

True, if harm had come to her, he’d be in danger, if there was undue emotional stress, it could harm him. But she had been extremely diligent in taking care of herself these almost nine months that she carried him. She hadn’t protested when she’d been told to cease a certain activity, she hadn’t objected to being taken care of. She’d allowed herself time to scream and cry for her dead husband, but then she’d allowed herself fresh air and distraction, and joy with her nieces, nephews, and her son. If her grief and mourning were going to harm her baby, surely she’d have known by now.

She possessively and protectively wrapped her arms around her middle, as if she could keep him there forever if she held on tightly enough. She tried to find comfort in images of a squirming, tiny baby with Jamie’s eyes, of a little boy running and shouting with his cousins, wild copper curls flowing in the wind, of little kisses to her cheek and tiny whispers in Gaelic. She tried.

But it terrified her.

Once the labor pains began, once her water broke, he was in danger. Faith had stirred and moved right up until her premature birth. She was alive when she was inside of her. It was only when Claire’s body tried to release her that she’d killed her.

Killed her.

For perhaps the millionth time, Claire prayed fervently to whoever was listening.

Please don’t take him, too. Please don’t take him too. Please don’t let me kill him. Give me the strength to see him safe…Please…

Don’t let my body fail me again.

Don’t let me fail him…

This child was all that would be left of him. Ever. The thought of her body purging that life and strangling it even as it came into the world made her sick enough to wish she’d never go into labor at all.

A soft knock on the door stirred her out of her reverie. Her eyes fell on the little lamb again, chuckling softly at the sight of him balancing on her large, round belly. She took him into her hands.

“Come in.”

The door opened, and she expected Fergus’s wide eyes, a stern look from Jenny, or even a lip-biting smile from her little niece.

“Good evening, lass.”

But she certainly hadn’t expected Ian.

“Good evening,” Claire said warmly, sitting herself up a little straighter in her chair. “Is everything alright?”

“Oh, aye. Just fine.” He lingered in the doorway. “D’ye mind if I join ye?”

“Not at all, please.” Claire gestured to the other chair beside the fireplace, adjacent to hers. “Is it your leg?”

“No, Claire.” He waved her off as he sat down across from her. “I just wanted to apologize.”

Claire’s brow furrowed. “Apologize?”

“I ken ye’ve been in anguish since the Redcoats desecrated Jamie’s grave. And I ken well that it’s my fault they did it.”

“Ian — ”

“Please, I want to say my piece,” he cut her off gently, holding his eye contact with her. Claire wet her lips, swallowing thickly.

“It was damned foolish of me to attempt to retrieve his body. I didna think of the consequences, how easy it’d be to track down someone like me.” He gestured weakly to his leg, blinking shamefully. “And when they were here, I couldna think of any other way to save my hide than to tell them of the grave. I kent well what they’d do.”

“I said it the night you were shot, and I’ll say it again: a body to bury, a grave, is not worth your life,” Claire said. “Where would Jenny or your children be if you hadn’t thought to say something to support your innocence?”

“Aye. It’s true. But ye have anger, Claire.” His eye contact remained ever constant, and she felt her resolve crumbling under his gaze. “And I want ye to know that I ken it’s anger fer me. And well deserved at that.”

Her vision began to blur with tears and she quickly wiped her eyes. “Ian…I don’t resent you,” she said firmly. “You’re right…I have anger. I have…so much anger.” Her voice shuddered. “But it isn’t for you, or Jenny, or anyone but the bastards who killed him in the first place, and then blew apart the only grave we could give him.” She wiped her eyes again, taking a breath. “And perhaps God.”

Ian nodded. “Aye. I can understand.”

“What kind of God would create a society in which those with power can be so…so cruel to those that are helpless? Drive thousands of men to their deaths to stop it all from happening…and have it all be in vain?” Claire shook her head, then rubbed her hand down the length of her face and rested her fingers over her lips.

Frank had briefly recounted to her what had become of the European Jews, the Holocaust, they were calling it. Apparently, right under the noses of the whole world, those with power had rounded up the helpless and murdered them by the millions. A systematic erasure of a culture that they despised for the sake of despising it.

It was not a one-to-one correlation by any stretch of the imagination. What was happening here was no Holocaust, though it was cultural genocide to be sure. Claire supposed that if the powers that be in England could even wrap their minds around something so incomprehensible as death camps, perhaps they might have employed them. At least for the men. Jamie’s treatment at Fort William, at Wentworth, could certainly rival that of the paper thin, war weary Jews in rags that she’d seen on a rare occasion in Europe.

And what kind of God would let this happen? Not once, not even twice through history…countless times? Jamie took up arms to ensure that the ones he loved never had to endure the treatment that he did. To protect his nieces and eventual daughters from the treatment Jenny had received at Lallybroch all those years ago, to protect his nephew and eventual sons from his fate in prison. He fought for a better future for the ones he loved. He died for it. And it was for nothing.

Once again, she found herself possessively hugging her middle. This world is not safe for him.

And it would appear that no world would be safe. Not this one, in 1746, and not her own, in 1945. Here, her child would be targeted as a Highlander, in 1939 children were targeted and murdered for simply being born Jewish. So who was to say that two hundred years from now, some new evil couldn't arise and target her child for being anything? He could be ripped from her arms in any century, everything she loved and held dear could be destroyed for no good reason no matter where, no matter when she was.

“God created this world, aye, he created the people in it. But he didna create the evil,” Ian began. “The Devil lives, thrives in some people, and they drag others down wi’ them.”

Images of herself screaming, pleading for help from the soldiers in Wentworth flashed through Claire’s mind, followed by images of Jack Randall telling them to leave and ignore what they’d seen. And they'd obeyed.

The Devil thrives in some people indeed. And he managed to drag plenty down with him.

“For whatever reason, He canna purge the world of that evil,” Ian went on. “D’ye ken the only thing that truly does combat it?”

Claire blinked numbly at him.

“It’s love, Claire. Pure and undying. It’s the only thing that can never truly die.”

Silent tears trickled down her cheeks as she listened intently.

“After seeing the evils of war, what men are capable of doing to one another.” He gestured to his leg again. “I cursed the Lord as well. I couldna close my eyes wi’out feeling hatred and terror. But d’ye ken what dragged me out of it?”

Claire briefly closed her eyes, a tiny smile appearing on her lips, but not quite reaching her eyes. “Jenny.”

“Aye. That she did.” Ian’s face was now full of emotion. “That lass and her damned stubbornness refused to let me be lost. Her love reminded me why it is that God puts us on this Earth. And then I look at my bairns…and I’m so full of love I’m fit tae burst.” Claire wiped her eyes again. “D’ye see what I’m saying, Claire?”

“I do.” Truly she did. But she was not comforted yet. “And then what happens when they’re ripped away from you?” She didn’t mean to sound as harsh as she did.

“The love remains. I ken ye know that, Claire.”

That damned eye contact.

What had she said to herself when they’d buried Jamie’s tartan?

It was not their love that she was putting to rest.

“Love can’t be put to rest,” Claire said shakily.

“Aye. And neither can pain. And that’s the hell of it, I suppose.” He sighed. “You are loved, Claire. By those that have left us and by the ones still here. Throughout the Highlands, men have been slaughtered, and their families are hanging together wi’ love for each other. It’s all they have in the face of evil. Ye ken?”

She nodded tearfully. “I understand.”

He leaned over and placed a gentle hand on her knee. “Yer child will be brought up wi’ love.”

“I know.”

“It was love that brought him here.”

“Yes…it was.”

“I, uh…reckon ye havenae seen the graveyard as of late.” Claire shook her head. “We cleaned up everything that was burnt, filled the hole they left. Didna bury anything else. Jenny said ye didna want it that way.”

Her eyes absently landed on the tartan bow in her hands.

“It wasna salvageable,” Ian said, not waiting for her to ask. “The Redcoats made sure of that.” She nodded, rubbing the fabric on the lamb between her fingers again.

“We…we gathered the ashes. Of the tartan. Jenny argued against it seeing as how ye didna want to bury anything else…but I thought I should ask ye before we truly were rid of it.”

Claire bit her lip.

“Ye dinna have to say anything now. Or tomorrow, or ever, if ye dinna want to,” he continued. “But just know that we have them. The grave is cleaned up, the rosary is returned to the stone, and the ashes of the tartan are safe somewhere.”

She nodded, her chin trembling, not knowing what to say.

He took his hand from her knee before standing.

“I ken ye havena been joining us fer supper of late, and I dinna blame ye. Ye can stay in here of course, eat supper in peace wi’ yer bairn, and we’d think none the less of ye fer it.” He smiled warmly at her. “But I’d be honored if ye came to supper wi’ us, Claire. Wi’ the family that loves ye.”

With that, he turned to leave. Claire watched him go, her heart aching.

“Ian.” She stopped him just before he shut the door behind him. “Thank you.”

He nodded, and then left her alone to think again.

She’d be lying if she said that what had happened with the Redcoats hadn’t caused her to regress in terms of her grief. She was spending more time locked in her room than she had in months. Jenny was bringing meals to her room again, forcing her to eat it, Fergus was peeking in, frightened like he’d been all those months ago, walking on eggshells, frightened that he would shatter her. But unlike last time, the baby was much more concrete, much more real now. She was not just locking herself in her room, she was locking herself in with her baby. This made it all the easier to forget that she was shutting everyone else out.

Guilt clenched her gut. She’d been taking them for granted. The sister that was constantly putting her needs over her own, the brother that risked his life to bring her peace, the son that brought her comfort enough to sleep on nights where she otherwise couldn��t, the nieces and nephew that put so much light in her heart. She’d gotten used to having them, to having a family of her own. And she’d taken it for granted.

Resolutely, Claire pushed herself out of her chair. She reverently placed Lambert in the cot that would soon belong to her baby, smiling as she ran her fingertips over the mattress and blankets.

She would dine with her family. Tonight, and every night thereafter.

She was greeted with several boisterous “Auntie!”s when she entered the dining room, Maggie, then wee Jamie rushing to hug her around the legs. Even Kitty made an attempt, crying “Ah-ee!” and clapping her hands, mimicking her siblings’ delight.

Maggie tugged on her hands, dragging her to the seat beside her, where she’d become accustomed to having her during meals. Maggie had turned three during Claire’s self-induced isolation. Jenny had come into her room, and Claire, in her depression, had been none the wiser to the day.

“D’ye ken it’s Maggie’s birthday?” Jenny said, trying to suppress the salt in her words.

“Is it…?” Claire said dazedly.

“Aye. And she’s been asking fer her Auntie all day.”

Claire finally forced herself to look at her, her stomach wrangled with guilt.

“Remember, three years ago, Claire?” Jenny allowed a smile. “We were strangers, and I had ye pulling a bairn out of me wi’ yer bare hands.”

Claire chuckled softly. “I was terrified.”

“Oh, you were, now?” Jenny scoffed, then shook her head, smiling. “She’s a blessing, a blessing that I have because of you. A blessing that you have because ye brought her into the world three years ago today.” Jenny patted her shoulder and then stood up and made to leave the room.

“Just wanted to tell ye that.” She shut the door behind her.

That was the one and only day that month that Claire had forced herself to venture out of the house. The air was chilling, biting, even, but there was only one way to make this right. After her journey out of doors, Claire found Maggie in the nursery with her dolls.

“Auntie Claire!” She toddled to the door and threw herself on her legs. “D’ye ken the day, Auntie?”

“Of course I do!” She sat on Maggie’s bed and pulled her into her lap, though there wasn’t much room given the size of her belly. “It’s the day I helped your mother bring you into the world.” She poked her nose, resulting in a little giggle.

“Aye! Mam says ye saved me, Auntie.”

Claire looked into her eyes, so wide, so in awe of her, completely clueless as to how broken she, the woman who was her hero, had become.

“I did, Maggie. Because I already loved you so very much.”

She was very much like Ian, Claire decided. Wee Jamie was the troublemaker, like his namesake, Kitty was the stubborn devil, like her mother, but Maggie was so gentle, so sweet, caring beyond her years.

“I’ve brought something for the birthday girl,” Claire said in a sing-song pattern.

Maggie gasped, her face lighting up, clapping her hands.

Claire reached into her pocket and pulled out the very item she’d ventured outside for. It was a dried and flattened bluebell, something she’d been saving with her other dried herbs for experimental purposes, but also something she’d much rather give to a special little girl on her birthday.

“It’s a dried flower, a bluebell.” Claire held it out to her, and she gaped at it in awe. She took it in her little hands with all the grace of a grown woman holding a string of pearls. Claire didn’t have to tell her to be careful, how delicate it was. She knew.

“Someday, I’ll teach you how to dry flowers yourself, that way you can keep any flower you want forever. How does that sound?”

Maggie simply nodded, her mouth stuck in an adorable little “o” shape, unable to tear her wide eyes from it.

“It’s a special medicine flower,” Claire went on. “If you keep it in your pocket, you’ll always have the warmth of Spring, even in the dead of Winter.” Claire was never one to come up with fairytales, but she felt compelled to endow the simple little plant with something so that the poor girl wouldn’t realize her Auntie had selfishly forgotten her birthday.

Although, looking at her face, Claire decided that even if it was just a plain, non-magical flower, Maggie would have cherished it all the same.

“Do you like it?” Claire said, almost laughing at how her little awe-struck face still hadn’t changed.

“Aye, Auntie.” She nodded.

“I’m glad. I had to give my little garden faery something special for her birthday.” Claire kissed her head. “Keep it safe now, won’t you?”

“I will, Auntie. Promise.”

Now, Maggie clambered into her chair next to Claire, and she hoisted herself onto her knees. She looked up at Claire smiling, biting her bottom lip as she always did. She patted the pocket of her wee apron. “Safe, Auntie.”

Claire’s eyes welled up with tears, and she pulled the girl into a hug to hide them from her.

Dear, sweet girl.

Supper was…normal. It was as if she’d never left, as if she hadn’t spent weeks avoiding everybody. The children were boisterous, Jenny and Ian bickered, Fergus was…well, Fergus. Everything was as it should be. Everything was perfectly…normal. It unnerved her for some reason to feel that way, and she couldn’t put her finger on it. Until halfway through the meal it hit her.

“Normal” no longer included Jamie.

She’d spent months imagining him at the table, hearing his laughter among the cacophony of noise. Now, his absence was normal. She’d gotten used to it.

She’d almost had to excuse herself, suddenly overcome with this burden of knowledge, but then wee Jamie spilled his glass, and the water reached Claire’s lap, even from all the way across the table. Maggie squealed, Jenny reprimanded her son, and it was enough to bring Claire back into the moment, out of her whirling thoughts.

She managed to make it through the rest of supper, despite her now being wet.

“What do ye say to yer Auntie, Jamie?” Jenny stood with her hands on her hips as Claire and wee Laura started to clear the table.

“Sorry fer getting ye all wet, Auntie Claire,” the lad said, peering up through his long lashes, trying not to grin.

“It’s alright, Jamie.” Claire ruffled his hair. “I needed a bit of a bath anyway.”

He couldn’t stop the giggle that erupted at that, and Jenny gave the back of his head a gentle smack. “Up ye get, lad. To bed.”

“Milady,” Fergus suddenly reentered the dining room, having gone upstairs to put Kitty to bed. “It would appear Katherine does not want to go to bed.”

Claire had to cover her mouth to prevent herself from laughing out loud. Fergus was holding onto the squirming toddler for dear life, and she was screaming her wee head off, positively red in the face. Fergus looked terrified.

“Och.” Jenny sighed and took quick strides to retrieve her stubborn wee devil. “Ye behaved just fine fer cousin Fergus last night, Kitty! What on Earth could be the matter today?”

Tutting and muttering to herself, Jenny whisked the screaming child out of the dining room and upstairs, the sound gradually quieting the further away they got.

“I hope mon petit does not hate me as Katherine does,” Fergus said, his eyes wide.

“Oh, Kitty does not hate you,” Claire assured him, picking up dishes. “She’s just a fussy toddler. She does the same thing to her own mother. You’ve seen it.”

He seemed placated enough, nodding.

“You are a wonderful cousin to the little ones, mon fils,” Claire said. “And you will be a wonderful brother as well.”

He smiled proudly. “Thank you, Maman.”

“Alright then. Since Kitty so vehemently opposed your being on baby duty, it looks like you’re on dish duty with — ”

A familiar searing pain rushed through her, and the pile of plates she held slipped from her grasp, the bottom two shattering on the wood floor.

“Maman?” Fergus was at her side in an instant.

She panted heavily, clutching her belly.

“It’s alright…I’m alright.” Claire assured him, taking the arm he offered her.

“False labor again?” Fergus asked.

“Very well could be,” Claire said. She allowed Fergus to lead her into a seat, exhaling heavily as she sat. “Look at the mess I’ve made…”

“Don’t worry, Maman. I will clean it up.”

He got right to it, returning the unbroken plates to the table and then picking up the broken pieces, gathering them in a pile in his arms. He disposed of them and then returned to her side. Her breathing felt regular again, no more pain.

“Alright. Back to the dishes then. Though perhaps you should carry them,” Claire said sheepishly.

“Are you sure, Maman? Perhaps you should go to bed,” Fergus said, rushing to help her stand before she could even attempt to do it herself.

“I’m fine, darling, really. It’s — ” She suddenly cried out and doubled over.

And then her blood ran cold.

The liquid running down her legs and gathering at her feet was unmistakable.

“Maman?” Fergus was panicked now.

Claire looked up at him, her chest heaving with panic. “My waters have broken.”

“Does that…is it…?”

“Yes, Fergus.” Her mind was racing, her head was spinning. She was squeezing his arm with white knuckles.

“The baby is coming.”

[ohmyoverland]

Okay so I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before but ANNE WITH AN E / OUTLANDER AU

I keep saying the two main couples are so alike, so obvs it would be cool to see them transplanted into each other’s universes!

A fusion au where a teen Claire is adopted by an elderly couple in Broch Morda and faces stigma as an outspoken English girl. One day she meets Jamie, the son of the laird who just returned from fostering with his uncle, but a misunderstanding makes her vow to despise him forever-- he calls her a Sassenach the day they met because she refused to speak to him.

Or maybe she was orphaned while emigrating to Canada, and only found by her uncle after a decade in an orphanage. He brings her to Avonlea, where he’s set up his home due to its isolation from academic busybodies. She meets Jamie, whose family moved to PEI after losing their land and needing a new start. Lamb hires him and his brothers to be farm hands, since Lamb needs supplemental income but isn’t exactly a farmer himself. In this AU, Jamie’s life is more similar to Jerry’s, and he and Claire bond over feeling out of place and not totally accepted by the conservative English townspeople.

Or a story about an Anne Shirley born in the modern era, who gets pulled a hundred years into the past while out exploring the hills one day on vacation. She accidentally stumbles into WW1, and is taken in (forcibly) by a troop of Allied soldiers who don’t understand how a random Canadian women ended up in no man’s land in France. Some suspect she’s a spy. Her biggest ally is the troop’s medic, Gilbert Blythe, who defends her from the more paranoid officers.

[sablelab]

Covert Operations - Chapter 85

DISCLAIMER: This is a modern AU crossover story with Outlander and La Femme Nikita. LFN and its characters do not belong to me nor do those from Outlander.

COVERT OPERATIONS …. THE STORY THUS FAR

James Fraser informs Operations that Claire Beauchamp has been kidnapped, however, Dougal Mackenzie is unsympathetic and tells Jamie to forget about going after her. When Operations refuses any help, Jamie calls in a marker owed to him of fifteen days. He will use this time to cut ties with Section and his superiors to go on Mandatory Refusal. Meanwhile Murtagh and Fergus both offer their assistance to search for Claire.  

In the meantime, Claire is just beginning to realise who her captors are when she meets one in particular. Jamie’s search for her comes up empty handed until he looks at surveillance tape from Claire’s apartment building. He asks Fergus to help him trace the number plate of the car in the car park and they find the name of one of the kidnappers and a possible location.  On leaving Section Jamie picks up a bag of tricks from Murtagh which he will put to good use in his pursuit of his Claire.

And so, the story continues …

SYNOPSIS: James Fraser goes on Mandatory Refusal until he discovers Claire’s whereabouts and he returns to Hong Kong to track down one of the kidnappers. However, when this William Ransom is not at the address Fergus gave him, Jamie checks with the university he is a student at for a current address. During this time Sun Yee Lok hears Intel about Claire Beauchamp and when Fergus Claudel is called into Madeline’s office, he is wary of why.

Previous chapters can be found at … https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations

CHAPTER 85

  It was very late; in fact, Fergus was really not sure if it was morning or still night. He was tired and was ready for the comfort of his bed safe in the knowledge that he had done something good. He'd left Jamie's office not so long ago well pleased with himself that he had finally been able to help him with a name and his possible location from where to start looking for Claire. Although it wasn't much to go on, at least Jamie had something concrete to build on now that he'd left Section One. Also knowing the determination of the man, Fergus knew it wouldn't be too long until he found her. However, as he was returning to his quarters Fergus was unexpectedly summoned to Madeline's office. The sound of her voice sent a shiver down his spine and sent a myriad of thoughts through his mind. Why would she be asking for him at this late hour? They'd been careful not to arouse suspicion and the perch had been dark so there was no reason that he could think of that might incriminate him in Jamie's quest to find Claire.

Although his ever over active mind rationalised that Madeline must need something else, Fergus was still in trepidation of what Section's second in command really wanted and he couldn't help but think the worst. Nevertheless he made his way to her office and on arrival knocked and waited for her affirmation to enter. It was not long before his superior’s voice echoed the command.

"Come in Mr. Claudel." 

"You wanted to see me?" he asked as he walked over to where Madeline was sitting at her desk. Looking at him with a expression he'd seen many times before, Fergus knew Madeline was well aware of what he had done for Jamie and her words only confirmed his suspicions. "You utilized Section's facilities and manpower to assist an off-profile operation." "I can explain ... Jamie needed some information ..." Fergus stammered while trying to think of a plausible reason to give Madeline as to why he'd done what he'd done. "You know very well what I mean Mr Claudel." "All right, so I helped him out. It only took 10 minutes." "Why did you do it?" Madeline's steely gaze sent shivers down Fergus Claudel's spine with her question. There was no way to avoid her scrutiny. His only course of reply was the truth. "Claire's been kidnapped. Jamie's trying to find a location on her. All he's doing is helping out someone he cares for. I don't really see the harm in that." "And despite the rules you believe it all comes down to how you see it?" She replied with a countenance that cut him to the quick. "It just seems strange. Claire Beauchamp is one of ours and we need to protect her," he replied boldly standing his ground in front of his superior. Madeline's look made him nervous as she continued. "Jamie was told he had to do it on his own and not use any of Section's resources." "I get the point. So, what now? You're not going to cancel me about that are you?" "No ... I'm actually quite pleased that you helped him." Suddenly looking up Fergus couldn't believe what he had just heard. "You ... are?" he asked incredulous that Madeline would go against Operations' wishes. 'Yes ... If Jamie is able to locate Claire, then the quicker we can get back on track for the Rising Dragons' mission. Section has used enough man hours and Claire is crucial to its success." Fergus stammered not knowing what to say or how to reply. "Ahhh ... yes." "I know Jamie has been granted his fifteen days and won't report in. I want you to keep me informed on his progress ... if by chance he does."

The stare Madeline gave him made Fergus jumpy, as her eyes held his waiting for his reply. Having heard her request, he was in two minds about what to tell her about the Intel they had found on one of the alleged kidnappers that could lead to Claire's whereabouts. Deciding it was in his best interests to come clean, Fergus took a panel from his pocket and handed it to Madeline. She immediately loaded it onto her computer. 

"Where did you get this?" she enquired studying the Intel on the disk. "From the DMV database I did of the number plate of the car seen on the surveillance tape that Jamie had of Claire's underground car park." Madeline looked Section's Techie in the eye before demanding, "Tell me what you know." Meanwhile ...

Sun Yee Lok sat in his office waiting for confirmation from one of his personal bodyguards Wang Yu or Karen on the success of the kidnapping of Claire Beauchamp. It had been a long time coming but her incarceration had finally been arranged and it was all thanks to brother Jiang Ng. Karen and Andy had befriended Claire as ordered and now they would be able to extract the information from her that they knew she had on the Rising Dragons. Systematically they had been keeping a dossier on her and had it not been for Jiang Ng's intervention they may not have been able to have her in their midst as soon as they had. His suspicions had set in motion the events that had occurred, but it was with great sadness that he would not be able to partake in the interrogation of this woman. Jiang's sad demise from a heart attack was so unexpected that it had caught them unawares. Not only had the Rising Dragons lost a fine brother, but they had now lost their hold over the police at the Organised Crime and Triad Bureau. His loss would be great and a replacement hard to find. Had it not been for Jiang's quick thinking, the kidnapping of Claire Beauchamp may have been postponed. There had been far too many coincidences surrounding her time in Hong Kong. The Inspector's investigations had been leaving far too many questions unanswered and it was this that had raised his suspicions about the coincidence of her movements and the disappearance of Tony Wong and Madame Cheung in particular. Miss Beauchamp would certainly be an interesting study and the triad leader looked forward to getting to the bottom of her knowledge about the Rising Dragons. The sound of his private line ringing was the signal that things had obviously been put in motion. This was the call he had been waiting for as he'd been expecting an update on their prisoner's detention. Reaching for the telephone's handset he placed it to his ear but showed no surprise when Karen's and not Wang Yu's voice was heard. "I have news ..." "Ah Kai-lin ... has it been done?" "Yes." "Good," Sun Yee Lok answered waiting for her to elaborate further on the state of affairs thus far. "It went very smoothly." "Excellent … Did our recruits William Ransom and his accomplice Steven Bonnet, have any complications in the kidnapping?" "No … They served the triad well." "This was an initiation test for them both that Wang Yu organized, which by your own admission they have passed with flying colours. We may use their services again then." "Wang advised them to lay low for a while though just in case." "Wang's a good man, I trust his judgement." "So, do I ... There is also no way that Andy or I can be implicated in her kidnapping if questioned because of him and ... my alibi is watertight thanks to Jiang." "Yes … How fortuitous that Jiang had called you in to the OCTB for questioning by his detectives. It is certainly the perfect alibi." Regrettably, Sun Yee Lok remembered the last conversation he'd had with the head of the Organised Crime and Triad Bureau when he had cut him off in mid conversation in regard to the nightclub incident. Jiang had wanted to tell him something and he wouldn't let him. Thankfully Wang had informed him personally of Jiang's recommendations about Claire Beauchamp's kidnapping. Little did he know but it was the last thing he had organized for the triad. It was unusual for the leader of the Rising Dragons to show any emotion but Karen heard sadness in his voice at his next words. "Our brother Jiang's death is a great loss to us and one we will find hard to replace." "That is true … That's why there is something I need to discuss with you." Sun Yee Lok was intrigued, "I'm listening." "I fear that we are not safe here. I would suggest that we transfer Claire Beauchamp to a more secure location. It is too close to Hong Kong." He too had anticipated this very thing and was glad that she had brought it up. "Where do you suggest?" "Somewhere more remote and less accessible ... perhaps one of the outlying islands?" "Hmmm … yes … I understand. Wang will see to it." "We will need to move quickly. Her male companion, James Fraser, will be making inquiries about her whereabouts shortly." "We will take care of him … you take care of the woman." "I will." "Is that all?" "I do have some other concerns." His voice softened, "What is troubling you Kai-lin?" "Claire will be a difficult target ... I feel that we may need to use some force if we are to extract the information we need." "Wang Yu, will provide everything that you need there. Knowing of his close association to me, Jiang Ng chose him personally to arrange the kidnapping of the woman and that went well. Now he will be your "Hung Kwan". Whatever you need ... just say the word and it will be done." "That is good …" "I will also contact Jonathon … I'm sure he can be of use too." "Yes … We may need his services soon when we have a new location." "You have done well my daughter … very well.  I am proud of you." "Thank you, father." Heading back to Hong Kong ...

James Fraser had one thought on his mind as he made swift headway back towards Hong Kong ... he would complete his mission to find Claire before reporting back in to Section One. He had automatically gone into mandatory refusal for this left him with few options other than to go dark for a while until he found her. He’d been given no choice in the matter as Operations had refused to allow him to use any of Section's facilities or time to search for Claire. Then when he had called in his favour, his superior had reluctantly given him the fifteen days owing to him when backed into a corner. 

Although he'd been completely cut off from Section One by orders from Operations, there were always ways and means around his directive. Jamie knew Section back the front and could easily make his way in and out if needs be. If by some strange miracle Section heard anything from the kidnappers about Claire, Jamie knew Murtagh and Fergus would try and contact him someway or other on an undetected channel. Regardless of what Operations had ordered Jamie knew they would be there if needed for assistance. The two men would certainly make sure that Section's leader didn't find out if they were helping him in any way. Madeline and Operations would not be happy if they found out he was using Section One's resources or personnel. Although he was a master at deviation from protocol, Jamie didn't want to implicate the two friends. Fergus and Murtagh had already helped him with a possible location but he didn't want to put them in jeopardy any more than necessary. He would locate Claire no matter what. With a steely determination and his normal methods of persuasion, he would make sure, one way or the other that William Ransom had no choice but to give him the information he wanted on his Claire's whereabouts. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Jamie accelerated the SUV wishing that it had wings to fly. Although he made steady progress, the time spent in travelling was an anathema to him. Expediency was a necessity at the moment and the quicker he could find Claire, the better it would be for all. Armed with the address of one of the kidnappers he made his way to the beginning of Route 1. His destination was in Waterloo Road north of Kowloon Tong and towards the Lion Rock Tunnel. Turning at the intersection with Lai Cheung Road and Ferry Street, he drove east past Nathan Road then proceeded on to a northeast-southwest alignment through the eastern part of Yau Ma Tei. Passing by the wholesale Fruit Market, the abandoned Yaumati Theatre and the Yau Ma Tei Station of MTR, Jamie then proceeded on to Mong Kok. When he reached the intersection with Princess Margaret Road, Waterloo Road turned in a northward direction. This was the route Jamie took as it was close to the address he was seeking. He cruised along the road and soon arrived at the proposed destination of the kidnapper. Parking the SUV a short distance from the house, James Fraser surveyed the perimeter for movement along the street. Although there was a car parked in the driveway, the house looked deserted. He watched for several minutes before approaching the door. Jamie knocked once ... but there was no answer. He knocked again and waited. Yet again there was no answer so he peered in the window. What he saw was of some concern. It didn't look like William had been at his house for some time as there seemed to be no presence of it being occupied. Jamie's spirits were somewhat dashed. That could mean one of two things ... his Claire was not here ... this was not the kidnap site or William Ransom had done a runner. Either way he needed to find something in the house that would help him find where William and ultimately Claire could be found. This was a quiet neighbourhood and few people passed by. Casting a glance up and down the street Jamie made his way around to the back of the house. Breaking the glass of the back door with his clenched, gloved fist, he leaned in and opened the door. He entered with his gun drawn. There were two plates on the table and signs that someone had eaten a meal recently. There were pots on the stove that had clearly bubbled over and the stove top was still warm. Jamie went to the living room and quickly made his way through the house but it was unoccupied. He made his way up the stairs and searched all the rooms but alas, no one was there either. It was obvious that whoever was here recently had left in a hurry. Clothes were scattered and the bedrooms were unkempt. Regrettably the location Fergus had given him was cold, for the house was now abandoned. It looked like Jamie had just missed whoever was here but he knew he couldn't be far behind them. What now? he thought. Precious time was slipping away and the longer it took to locate William Ransom the longer Claire was in captivity and the longer she was at the mercy of the Rising Dragons. Making his way downstairs Jamie checked for any Intel that may help in locating William.  He entered a small study where he found a desk littered with papers, a diary and a notice board that contained a series of papers and clippings. Rifling through them he came across an assignment paper with the insignia motto "Sapientia et Virtus" … "wisdom and virtue" … the Latin motto from the prestigious City University of Hong Kong the oldest tertiary institution in Hong Kong. It was apparent that he was a university student at HKU. Jamie declared that these words would come back to haunt William Ransom for he had neither wisdom nor virtue. This student had become involved in the dirty work of the Rising Dragons by kidnapping his Claire. He would pay the price for his association with the triad. If her kidnapping was some form of initiation into the triad, there may be other students who were involved as well. University student bodies provided opportunities for students to participate in extracurricular activities but were more renowned to be the main driving force behind the student activist movement. William Ransom, if involved in such a group, would be ripe for the picking by recruitment personnel for the Rising Dragons' triad. His kidnapping of Claire was probably just the first step to his acceptance into the brotherhood. William had made his bed and would have to lie in it for there would be no going back if he'd been recruited by the triad. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ He knew what it was like to become involved in student organisations only too well. Along with some other extremist students of London University, he'd formed the radical activist group called "The Bloody Hour.”  Like his fellow student activists, he was so filled with the anger of youth that they had gone too far. There was a bombing during the student protest.  

Jamie could remember vividly the video of the protest and the British announcer describing the action. The protest didn't start until everyone had had lunch. But then, the niceties were over ... Students, and their teachers, hit London in waves, the largest in the month-long series of demonstrations ... Officially, nearly 3,000 extra riot police turned out to meet them, but some said the number was double. At any rate, they and the students have played this game before. They both knew the rules ... It was the biggest so far of the recent student demonstrations, a national one called to protest against government plans to reform the universities. But the government has handled it so clumsily that, although the plans are deliberately vague, everyone - left and right - feels threatened. It was mostly the right who turned out today ... He'd been arrested during those student protests and had ‘died’ in prison ... then his life had changed forever in Section One. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Breaking from thoughts of his youth, Jamie systematically sought another plan of action. Perhaps William Ransom had come back to collect an assignment that was due in for assessment today to make things appear as normal as possible. The university wasn't that far away and although it was a long shot it was something he could check out. At the moment he had few leads to go on, hence it was at the City University of Hong Kong that Jamie decided to begin his search once again. Someone would surely know William on campus and where to find him.  Somebody, somewhere, knew something. And ... if he were to find William Ransom, he would surely find his accomplice too. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ James Fraser drove past luxurious residential houses on LaSalle and Oxford Road as he made his way to the university in Kowloon Tong. Eventually he came to the university's main campus on Bonham Road and Pok Fu Lam Road. He drove his car along the driveway past red brick British Colonial architecture and pulled the SUV into the parking lot out the front of the administration block. Getting out of the car, he quickly climbed the stairs and entered the university offices. One of the clerical staff saw the imposing man enter and came to the front desk. "Oh hello ... Can I help you sir?" "Hi ... I am hoping that ye can help me. I'm looking for my nephew William Ransom. He's a student here. I was wondering if ye could give me his current address." The woman gave Jamie a cursory glance before replying officiously. "I'm sorry sir, but I can't give out any personal details about our students ... confidentially you know." Showering the woman with one of his irresistible smiles Jamie asked, "Could ye make an exception this one time lass?" Taken aback she retorted, "Excuse me?" His eyes held hers as he wove a spell around the woman with his tale. "Ye ken... this is a family matter ... My sister ... his mother has just died in Scotland, and I have come to Hong Kong to tell him in person, but he didn't know I was coming." "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that,” the woman responded in sympathy on hearing his tale.  “I'll see what I can do but I'll have to check with my supervisor. Could you wait a moment please?" "Certainly ..." James Fraser watched as the woman singled out another person and spoke rapidly to them while looking in his direction once or twice. Finally the supervisor came to the front desk. "I believe you are looking for William Ransom?" "Aye, that's correct." "He's a fine student ... I only just saw him today." "Ye did?" "Yes ... He handed in a due assignment and asked for a leave of absence from his studies for personal reasons." "Do ye ken where I can locate him? ... ‘Tis most important. I've already checked his current address but he was nae longer there. Did he say where he could be located?" "Under the circumstances I would refuse ... but he was obviously in an agitated, distressed state. He needs his family around him at this sad time. One moment please. I'll check if he left a forwarding address ... it's a mandatory requirement of this university." Nevertheless, the supervisor checked his student database and gave Jamie the address where he could be found. "Ah ... there you are." "Thank ye." Jamie replied taking the address from the supervisor. "My sincere condolences. I hope you find your nephew soon." "Aye ... so do I." "Something was really bothering him today. Perhaps someone has already told him about his mother's death." "Perhaps ... thank ye kindly for yer assistance." With a determined gait James Fraser quickly strode from the office hoping that the address wasn't a bogus one and that he wasn’t chasing a red herring. He desperately needed to locate this William Ransom for his Claire's life was at stake and the sooner he found her the better.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ to be continued next week

[purewhitepages]

Desert Heat Chapter 5

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 |

A/N Hello friends am back i swear. I lost a lot of momentum on this fic due to personal reasons / school / life, but I think I’m back for good this time. I promise. 

Digging had halted at the House while further notes and sketches were taken of the lower level. John had come up with another handful of papyrus he’d found buried in the corner. These were much more fragile than the ones he’d inherited, and Claire immediately set to work preserving them in the resin of Lamb’s own recipe. She remembered spending many painstaking hours of her childhood making this same thick, sticky brown substance. The bottle she was currently working out of had the stylized “QLB” in the corner of the label, signified it was made by Lamb himself. Perhaps it was one of the last ones to be so. Her eye kept catching the letters in the bottom corner and she smiled a bit every time she saw it. He was still helping in his own ways.

She was sitting hunched over the table that functioned as John’s desk when a book being placed next to her elbow made her jump nearly clear out of her skin.

“Och, sorry lass.” A strong hand had found her back and she looked up to see the voice belonged to Mr. Fraser. Was it night time already?

“What have you got there?”

Claire blinked and shook her head slightly. “Papyrus, John found it under the House.”

“Preserving it are ye?”

She nodded.

He chuckled. “I can sympathize, manys an hour I lost to painting over bits of paper and paint.” He examined what she was doing even closer. His arm was still in the sling she had applied and she took a sort of pride knowing that he had listened to her advice to rest. “How is it that ye’re applying the resin?”

She held up her pinky finger to show how red and dirty it was. “After nearly destroying one with a brush, I found a more delicate touch did the trick.”

He looked impressed at least. “How many have you done?”

“Five, this is my last one.” She took a moment to stand. “It’s all the standard cartouches, at least according to my eye. I could never do much without Lamb’s notes to guide me.”

He smiled secretly at her. “Funny you should mention that.” He tapped the book he’d set down on the desk and Claire looked at it.

It was strange, the things you remembered. A stack of books delivered to the house when she was a child; people approaching at the museum with a sparkling look in their eye, a tome tucked under one elbow; the plain black spine with gold lettering sitting in a pile in her own tent. Mr. Fraser traced the letters on his copy of Path to the Ancient Ways by Dr. Quentin Lambert Beauchamp with familiarity and reverence.

“It’s a pity you couldn’t have met the author,” she said. “He was always happy to meet his audience.”

“Ah weel, ‘tis probably best this way. I dinna think I could bear to see my idol as a mortal man, ye ken?”

“Idol?”

Mr. Fraser met her eyes and nodded. “Aye.” He tapped the cover of the book. “When I was a lad, I was hungry for knowledge.” He gestured broadly. “No doubt ye ken the feeling. I was determined to read every book in my parents’ library.” Claire settled into the chair. She’d always loved a good story. “Now, that’s well over a thousand books, Sassenach. My family has been building that library since before they built the house.”

“I see your family has their priorities in order, then.”

He glanced up at her and nodded with a proud grin. “Aye, always loved a good book, my father. Anyway, I read and I read. Books about animals and philosophy, the latter of which I dinna understand a lick of, and then I came upon this book.” He tapped the cover once again. “And I stopped looking at anything else.” He opened up the cover and thumbed through a couple of pages absentmindedly, lost in memory. “Ye could barely catch me without it in my hands or my bag, damn near ruined my copy.”

“It looks alright to me,” Claire said, inspecting the book. Other than a few wears and tears, the book looked to be in good condition.

Mr. Fraser smiled. “This is my second copy. Damn nuisance trying to find it, too. I scoured every bookshop, old and used, looking for this book.”

Claire snorted. “You should’ve contacted us, we have probably a hundred copies.”

He nodded. “I never understood why it didna sell so well. Ye’re uncle was a genius.” Claire nodded and smiled. “Yes, he was. They just didn’t understand him.” Her smile turned sad as she looked back up at her companion. “And I saw what it did to him, how it stifled and disheartened him. I knew what he was.”

Mr. Fraser nodded. “As do I, Sassenach.”

They were soon interrupted by John coming back into the tent.

“How goes the preservation?” he asked.

Claire showed him the papyrus and explained her progress and theories. John nodded and smiled when he saw Mr. Fraser’s book.

“Thanks for the sentiment, Fraser, but you should’ve known we’d have a copy of our sacred text or two.” John pulled out his own copy of Path to the Ancient Ways. “Wouldn’t be good followers, if we didn’t.”

They shared a laugh.

“I do appreciate the help, though. And you have mine should you ever require it.”

Mr. Fraser nodded. “That is related to what I have to tell you all today.”

Claire remembered his outburst the day before, having nearly forgotten about it.

John nodded. “Yes, you’ve had your 24-hours, and then some by my watch. What do you have to say?”

Mr. Fraser looked as if he was choosing his words very carefully. “I would like to, first, apologize for my behavior from the day before. Ye have to understand, this Season has been very strange. We had been all set to dig at Dashoor, I had prepared everything for excavating the pyramid there, including bringing on Miss MacKimmie. And we get to Shepheard’s and Dougal tells me that we are going to Behribu? I was in shock. I was completely unprepared for this excursion, and I’ve found myself quite idle ever since we started digging.”

“So you have no idea what MacKenzie is hoping to look for?” John asked.

Mr. Fraser shook his head. “If there is a plan, he hasna shared it with me. That, in itself would not be such a change, I’ve gone behind his back to Column a time or two to get things I needed and he is none too pleased by this. But this is different. He’s planning something.”

Claire and John looked at each other and back to Mr. Fraser. “What does that have to do with the writing we saw yesterday?”

Mr. Fraser ran his good hand through his hair, the russet curls standing on end in his frustration. “Ye’ll think me daft.”

“We already do,” John pointed out. “Out with it, already.”

“Before we left, Dougal had made the... acquaintance of a woman very interested in Ancient Egypt religious practices. Not in an academic sense, mind you. She believed she was a Pharaoh’s wife reincarnated.”

“Which one?” Claire asked with a laugh and John scowled.

Mr. Fraser shook his head. “I didna ever listen to her long enough to find out. But I did catch enough to hear her hypothesis about-” He stopped himself, as if once he spoke the words, they would legitimize whatever daft theory this woman had in mind. “ Time travel. ”

He glanced up at the two other adults, who were staring back at him intently.

“Does Dougal believe her, you think?” John asked. “That’s why he took the site, that’s why the writing we found in the House scares you?”

Mr. Fraser rubbed the back of his neck. “I dinna ken what to believe, if I’m being honest. I just feel, somewhere deep inside me, that this canna be a coincidence.” Mr. Fraser had always looked so put-together, Claire had noted. But now, he really seemed to be questioning his very sanity. And though the notion seemed quite extraordinary, he said it so incredulously that she couldn’t help but believe him. Or, at least, believe that he believed it.

“But it could be,” Claire stated. Both the men looked at her with startled expressions. “I do not doubt your story, Mr. Fraser. But, well, you yourself think this woman Dougal knows has crazy ideas. Maybe the writing is graffiti like John said. It could be a coincidence.” Claire crossed her arms over her chest. “Afterall, are we really debating the existence of time travel?”

“I think what we should do is assume everything is alright until we have something better to go on,” John suggested. “Fraser, what did your team find recently?”

Mr. Fraser looked up to John. “How did ye ken we found something?”

“We guessed,” John said, looking over in the corner where Fergus and Miss MacKimmie were engaged in their own deep conversation.

He nodded. “Another stone, in the very middle.”

“Quite the find.” Claire nodded with John. Claire had predicted as much in her own research. In many circles around the world, there was a middle stone.That should’ve been my discovery, she thought with a snarl.

“As Claire says, it could be nothing. We’ll gather any info we can and regroup. Fraser, I’m game to start on these papyrus tonight if you are.” John moved to the desk, moving one of the chairs from the table so that he and Mr. Fraser may sit side-by-side.

“I think I’ll take that as my cue,” Claire said. “Good luck to you both.”

“I’ll see ye to the door, at least.” Mr. Fraser did and they paused in the entrance to the tent.

“What’s troubling ye, Sassenach?” he asked, no doubt from the look in Claire’s eye. She had always had a hard time keeping her thoughts to herself. The moonlight stretched across the desert and illuminated Mr. Fraser’s face. He looked thoughtful and slightly worried for her, stranger as she may be to him.

“Things are not turning out like I had anticipated this season. First Lamb and now-”

He nodded and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Ye’ll get through this, I ken it. Ye needn’t be worried or scairt, so long as I’m with ye.”

“And what about after?” she asked. “I don’t even know what is after this.”

“One step at a time, Sassenach.”

"You keep using that name, what does it mean?”

Even in the moonlight, she could see him blush, as if he hadn’t even realized he was doing it. “Och, just a wee nickname is all. It just means ‘English’ in the Gaelic, ye ken? Seeing as we’re pretty much divided according to Hadrian’s Wall here in the middle of nowhere.”

She chuckled and moved to go to her tent. “Goodnight Mr. Fraser.”

“Goodnight, Miss Beauchamp.”