#MYSTERY Weel food

[mymelodyheart]

A Passage In Time ~Halloween Short Story~

  A Passage in Time

 Claire parked into an empty slot at the foothills of Craigh na Dun, the street and open fields packed with cars of stone circles, and Celtic feast days enthusiasts. Jenny, her college friend, mentioned there was a possibility they'd be able to observe a group of local druids dancing to the feast of Samhain. If the ritual hadn't started yet, it could be the highlight of her trip to Inverness.

Bonfires blazed everywhere, their glow lending the atmosphere an air of mystery and something akin to otherwordly. Old fashion looking lanterns hung on wooden posts, and white canopies strung with fairy lights gave the hills a magical atmosphere at this time of night. The sound of bodhran drum beating in the distance and the rush of wind rustling through the trees sent a chill down her spine. There was an unusual, low vibratory hum in her ears, causing a nervous stir in her stomach. It reminded her of a time when she'd gone ghost hunting with Jenny in St Sepulchre's Cemetery in Oxford, frightened out of her wits and very jumpy.

She was so on edge she nearly screamed when the pocket of her coat buzzed.�� Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!  She quickly unbuckled her seat belt and fumbled for her phone, hoping it was Jenny. Her friend always came a little earlier than Claire and was usually impatiently and grumpily waiting for her in the wings.

"Claire! I'm so sorry I'm no' gonnae make it. I think I have food poisoning and my tummy isnae right, but I asked my brother to meet ye next to the biggest stone at Craigh na Dun. He's got ginger curls, and he's tall, and his name is Jamie. I ken ye didnae want to be alone. I hope ye dinnae mind my brother coming instead." Jenny's and her definition of tall differed. Whereas tall in Claire's books was above six foot, anyone that towered over her petite friend was considered massive to Jenny.

"Oh, Jen!" Claire wailed, hitting her steering wheel with the palm of her hand. Without her friend, she really didn't want to do this now, but it had taken her over an hour to drive up here. 

"So sorry hen. Please don't bail on my brother. He's going to be there soon. Ohhhh, God ...going to be sick ...bye."

Claire stared at her phone, and her stomach turned. Maybe, like Jen, she was coming down with food poisoning too. The way her insides was churning, it really was beginning to seem that way. "Fucking great," she mumbled miserably to herself. "I didn't even fix my hair, and I don't even have a smidgen of makeup. I just hope her brother is not that cute." 

She peered at the mirror and fluffed her chocolate curls. Her face was nice enough, she supposed, looking at her thoughtful amber eyes, full lips and arched eyebrows. As she found more faults in her face, she sighed wishing she had lipstick in her purse, but nought could be done and how she looked will have to do. 

She took deep cleansing breaths, mustered all the social courage she had, and stepped out of her car. The wind suddenly picked up and caressed her cheeks with cold breeze fingers. She was glad she wore sensible clothes, grateful for the warmth of the turtle-neck cable knit jumper, fitted jeans, hiking boots and down jacket.

Looking up towards the hill, she realised she wasn't far off and could see the tips of the stone circles and people milling about dressed in traditional garb and period costumes. She skipped over some shallow pools and trudged up the incline, pulling down her knitted hat to cover her ears. The hill was fairly steep, so she took a few stops to catch her breath as it wouldn't be a nice look to greet Jenny's brother panting like forge bellows. He would probably get the wrong idea if that ever happened.  Ugh!

She looked towards the top of the hill as she rested and realised she didn't have far to go and the standing stones looked, even more, impressive from where she stood. Her eyes landed on the biggest of them all, and her heart skipped a beat. Something had moved from behind the stone and disappeared through the cluster of trees! She held her breath and peered hard, to make sure she wasn't mistaken. Yes! There it is ...a tall shadow!

Claire's heart started to pound so hard, she thought it might burst out of her ribcage.  Was that a ghost?  The ritual hadn't begun yet, and she was already spooked out of her wits. But she immediately felt silly when the shadow stepped out from behind the tree and motioned to her. He was waving and smiling. It took a few heartbeats for her to register that he was tall, had ginger curls and was dressed in eighteenth-century Highland garb.  Ah, that must be Jamie!

She shyly waved back at the man, who grinned at her as if she was an old friend. When he beckoned to her again, her blood rushed between her ears, and she felt dampness under her arms.  What's the matter, Beauchamp? Watching too many horror films lately?   She swallowed down her nervousness, and she stared harder. He seemed friendly and didn't look surprised to see her. Actually, he looked eager to meet her. She scolded herself for letting her imagination run wild and continued her ascent, almost laughing out loud at her childish reaction.

When she finally reached the top, she looked around. There were quite a lot of people waiting for the Samhain ritual to start, but there were no signs of Jenny's brother. The balefires lit the standing stones in wavering lights, sending shadows scurrying across the grounds and making the whole setting looked like it jumped out of the Old World. She quickly scanned her surroundings, trying to imagine what it might look like under sunlight so as not to dwell too much on her nervousness.

Making her way around the stones, she weaved in and out of throngs of revellers while straining her eyes to look for a tall ginger-haired man. The drum continued to beat, and the cameras clicked nearby, the clash of old and new unsettling Claire further. In the middle of the circle, dressed in a druid costume, stood a gorgeous girl, her red hair wild and loose. She spoke to the crowd about extraordinary people that had a rare ability to hear the stones, seeking its passageway that led to another time.

Claire didn't stop and continued to walk, determined to find Jenny's brother as she listened to the druid girl's chanting. The people huddled closer as they listened to the solemn incantation, either seeking warmth from neighbouring bodies or straining to hear. Claire examined the faces, searching for someone that could be her friend's brother, but her skin crawled when she realised there was no tall red-head.  Who was the man in the shadow, then?

"We call upon the Old Ones known before the measure of time, some named and yet forgotten! Who would bless us with their energies of love and care! Harmonious to our nature, n' the energies of cosmic creation to cast this circle! We create and bind this Sacred Space with Sacred Love and Sacred Trust! To protect those we love and cherish within and without. N' to focus through our will in this space out of time, between worlds for the making of Majick! The Circle is now cast! So mote it be!"

The wind suddenly stilled, and Claire could tell the crowd also felt the sudden change in the air.

"We Summon You and Call you Forth! O' Ancient Ones, of Thought and Sound! Rising, moving in concentration, this seasons night in clear still air, vibrations felt, clear, resounding, in the sound of drums pounding, of Life's Breath and Heartfelt Love! Come be with us this Seasons Night. Join us in our Holy Rite, O' Ancient Ones of Power."

Suddenly, the lantern in the druid girl's hand flickered and puffed out, and the crowd drew in a sharp intake of breaths. 

"What was that?" somebody shouted out.

The druid girl holding the lantern shushed everyone patiently. "It's only the spirit of the ancient ones communicating with us. Dinnae be afraid. Playing with light is their way to make his or her presence known. Please remain calm. This spirit is benevolent. I have a good sense about these things."

Even though a part of her thought it was all for show, Claire couldn't help but feel the shift in the air, as a shiver crawled up her back, making every hair on her body rise.

A cold hand brushed her own, and she let out a blood-curdling scream. Even though she didn't want to look, her body had a mind of its own and turned around. She opened her eyes and swallowed hard, and was relieved and surprised to see a handsome ruddy face with intense blue eyes and ginger curls smiling down at her.

"I beg yer pardon, mistress. It was no' my intention to frighten ye. I only wanted to introduce myself' and see what all the fuss was about."

"J-Jamie?"

He bowed down, one arm swooping elegantly in a semi-circle. "James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser, at yer service. Please call me James."

She stifled a giggle knowing it was part of an act for the Samhain festivity.

The red-head girl in the circle glared at Claire. "Lass, yer screams will no' make the spirits want to speak. If ye're too frightened, go somewhere else, if ye please."

Heat crept up Claire's face as she jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "I'm so sorry I got carried away. I'll go now." She turned away from the circle and made her way down the hill.

"Wait, mistress, please! Dinnae let that druid priestess ruin yer evening," he said, grabbing her wrist and still speaking in his Old World accent. "There are other pleasing things to see than listen to her chant." 

Claire stopped on her tracks and smiled shyly, swiping a loose curl away from her face. "I bet there are. It was beginning to get too spooky for me. Maybe you could show me around?" she suggested.

James laughed out loud, his blue eyes twinkling mischievously as he offered her his arm. "Weel, mistress, ye are in luck. It is but my good fortune ye are in need of a person to accompany ye, for I am in need of a fair lass on my arm. Come, let us leave this over-crowded place, and I will give ye a personal and less embellished, account of Craigh na Dun ."

Claire blushed profusely as she wound her arm into his. She was grateful for the darkness of the night, concealing her scarlet face. Although his eighteenth-century Highland accent was spot on, she wished he would cut out the play-acting. He had a languid air about him that put her at ease, and the magical Victorian vibe got her in a romantic mood. Under her tentative hand, his Highland garb felt unusually coarse, and a little cold but his arm was firm and strong underneath the wool fabric of his tartan.

As they made their way down the hill, James turned his face to her, his eyes sparkling in the moonlight. "Ye never mentioned what I should call ye, and I think mistress will grow bothersome."

Odd that Jenny never mentioned my name to her brother. 

Claire stifled a girlish giggle. "Sorry. I'm not so good at socialising. I tend to forget to do polite things like introducing myself and refraining from screaming in people's faces. My name's Claire ...Claire Beauchamp."

James chuckled, the sound coming from him throaty and deep. "Ach, ye screaming was entirely my blunder. I shouldnae have snuck up on a lass in a dark of the night. It was highly improper of me. I like the name Claire by the way ... it's Sorcha in Gaelic. Both roll off the tongue easily."

The way he said her name made her shiver in pleasure, like speaking her first name was an act of foreplay. It sounded beautiful coming from his mouth, like a poet from the olden times reciting an ode. As awkward as Claire felt she was, Jamie didn't notice and seemed to enjoy her company immensely. She could swear from the bottom of her heart, he blushed like a boy. 

"Ye have an unusual way of speaking," James added, as they navigated the rocky hill. "But I like the sound of yer voice. But I must admit yer clothes are quite unusual too. I think I'm going to call ye, Sassenach."

"Oh!" she breathed. "What does that mean?"

"It simply means ye are an outlander, a stranger from a faraway place if ye will."

"Oh, that's alright then. As long as it doesn't mean anything bad."

"It's not bad at all, Sassenach, not bad at all."

James helped her down from a steep drop and led her towards a tent. There was a blazing bonfire, and an antique-looking lantern hanging from the post outside. Taking in her surroundings, she realised they were further away from the rest of the shelters and the crowd.

Once inside, she noticed the tent didn't look anything like she had seen before, but it looked strong and kept them warm from the outside elements. The floor was covered in the same material as the tent, and there were a couple of comfortable, high backed chairs covered in sheepskin and a small dark stained wood as the table. The oil lamp hung from above, illuminating the space in a soft glow. In the far end was a simple cot, covered in sheepskin as well, the sight of it making her blush.

He guided her towards the chair, pulling it in an invitation. Once she was seated, he took the chair facing her. "Ye must be parched and hungry. I'm begging yer pardon for presuming as I couldnae help but hear the grumble in yer belly."

Claire nodded and smiled. "In fact, I am, and there's no need to apologise. I haven't eaten all day, and if I'm entirely honest, I could eat a scabby dog."

He laughed out loud, and she noticed his eyes crinkling at the sides. His whole face lit up when he smiled, as though it was naturally part of his expression. "Ah, a lass after my own heart. I think I might have just the thing to soothe those hunger pangs." He looked at her with mischief in his eyes, and she bowed her head to hide the blush. "I hope ye like the Highland's fare. Not many travellers in this part of Scotland favour what we have to offer."

Claire grinned. "Don't worry. I can eat anything. Actually, this is not my first time here, and I do like the local food. They're so wholesome and delicious. When you've travelled to places like Egypt and the Middle Americas like me, you become accustomed to trying something new."

James's eyes widened. "Egypt and the Middle Americas? Ye've been to the New World! Ye must be a great adventurer. Unfortunately, I am not as seasoned-travelled as ye. I've been to France as a young lad, to study Latin, Greek and Philosophy."

"Oh! I've only been briefly in Paris. I've lived a semi-nomadic life with my uncle, you see, but I've settled down now in Oxford to study medicine."

James looked impressed. "Women in yer part of the world are very fortunate to be allowed to study, and from what I know, medicine is only meant for the sharpest mind. Here in Scotland, women stay at home and cook and care for the bairns."

She was about to admonish him for that remark, but she stopped. She reminded herself it was all part of the act, so she changed the subject. "Maybe, one day you'll visit Oxford, and I can show you my parents' hometown," she suggested, crossing her fingers under the table.

"Perhaps one day. As I said, I dinnae travel much, and this small sphere of the world comprises the extent of my life. I dinnae meet strangers often, so my manners might be slightly lacking. In fact, I believe I've forgotten all about the food I offered. Excuse my behaviour, it is a rarity I am in a company of a bonnie lass." He held her gaze and leaned in, propping his elbows on the table.

She tried not to gawk at the way his tartan hugged his body in just the right way. He was much too handsome and dashing to be flirting with her. 

He shook his head as if he had to clear it. Perhaps his thoughts were drifting, and he was seeing her in a different light. When he stared into Claire's eyes, he made her feel desirable and alluring for the very first time in her life. And the way he leaned towards her and stared at her lips, caused butterflies to flutter in her belly.

She'd never met anyone who carried themselves like him. She was starting to think his chivalrous and courteous manner wasn't an act. She believed deep down, he was a very charming man with unusual humour. Even though she knew he was acting to suit the mood with his period costume and accent, she was beginning to find it endearing and adorable.

Suddenly he stood up. "Pardon me, Sassenach. I will arrange something for us to eat. I shan't be long."

She nodded and smiled up at him, as she made a mental note, to ask Jenny more about her handsome brother. He was unusual, that's true but in a delightful kind of way. He was at ease with himself and had such an open and inviting manner, unlike most of the men she met, jaded and carrying a lot of hangups.

A few minutes later, a woman in an old fashioned white apron over a dark grey dress and a bonnet came through the opening followed by James. She had a grandmotherly air about her, kind and cuddly. "G' evening, mistress," she greeted, curtsying low and smiling broadly. "A fine All Hallows' Eve to ye. I will be bringing some food in no time, but for the meantime, I brought a flask of whisky to warm up yer cockles."

James took the flask and a couple of pewter from the elderly woman's hands. "Thank ye, Mistress Fitzgibbons. Very kind of ye."

The woman curtsied, and once again, they were alone.

"I hope ye like whisky, Sassenach. It will warm yer belly until the food comes," he said, pouring a whisky in each of the vessels.

"I like anything alcoholic when its this cold. Thank Christ for whisky in this part of the world." She took the pewter of whisky he handed her and took a whiff. It was very unlike any whisky she'd seen and smelled, but it was peaty, just how she liked it.

James sat back down. "I must admit I am overly delighted ye have decided to come with me instead of watching the rituals of Samhain. I've seen it loads of times and having ye as a company is indeed a refreshing change. After we've eaten, perhaps we can take a walk under the moonlight, and by then the people in Craigh na Dun would be long gone. Mistress Fitzgibbons will surely feed us well with rich food and ale, so our energy does not wane. If that's alright with ye ..."

Claire's breath hitched. She was surprised he wanted to spend more time with her. When she realised she hadn't answered him, she clapped a hand over her mouth. "Sorry. I'm... I'm just shocked. I hardly know you, but it seems you are determined to spend time with me. It's just that these things don't normally happen to me. I'd love to, of course, to take a walk under the moonlight."

James frowned. "Well, I must admit I was unusually forward, but I thought we had a connection. It's like I've known ye for many lifetimes, and I would like to understand more about this connection. But permitting me to treat ye to an All Hallows' walk around Craigh na Dun is not the main object of my attention. I guess I should be forthright about that, now, so ye can make an educated choice to leave or stay."

Oh sweet Mother of God, is he trying to seduce me?   She was not the type of person to jump into bed with anyone after the first meeting, no matter how handsome her date was. But the warmth of the tent, the sparkle reflected in James's eyes and the promise of adventure tugged at her heart. So she decided to do a little play-acting herself. "I hope you don't have any dishonourable intentions, kind sir. Perhaps it's high time I remind you that I am a lady."

His cheeks turned bright scarlet. "Oh, Sassenach, no. Ye have mistaken my intentions. I wasnae talking about…" he cleared his throat, tugging at his scarf, "about…" he leaned forward and whispered, "physical amusement."

This time it was her turn to be embarrassed. "Oh, dear, I'm reading this all wrong, aren't I?

He took a deep breath, obviously unhappy about giving her the idea she was a one night stand. He leaned forward, again, this time, he reached out for her hand, and she didn't pull away when she felt the warmth of his grasp. His muscles were strong underneath the skin, firm and calloused from manual work. She liked the fact that he had a worker's hands and a gentleman's manner.

"It isnae my intention to treat ye like anything other than a fine lady, Sassenach." He took a deep breath and brushed her hand with the tips of his fingers, making her heart do multiple cartwheels. Maybe she was affected because she'd never had a man look at her the way James was doing now. "My intention tonight is not to win yer very sumptuous person but to have a long conversation with ye under the moonlight. In hopes, by the end of the evening, ye will not wish to return to whence ye came from, and will, in the future, come back to me." 

Claire's logical, modern head was screaming warnings. Get a grip, Beauchamp, he's just acting like this for the night. In the morning, he will be himself again, and what if you don't like that person? 

She didn't have an answer and was thankful for the return of Mistress Fitzgibbons, balancing a huge tray filled with food in both hands. When the feast was laid out on the table, Claire's mouth watered as her stomach grumbled loudly enough to make the elderly woman grin.

James thanked Mistress Fitzgibbons before she turned around to go. His eyes were dancing playfully as the woman left them and sighed, "Ach to be young and in love…"

James grinned. "Let us eat, drink and be merry and not worry about later. Yer decision about agreeing to accompany an undeserving stranger can wait until after the victuals."

They had a pleasant meal of clootie dumpling, apple frushie, cranachan, scones, and almond cake, barely talking, only to compliment the fare. Instead of tea or coffee to wash down the sweet treats, they were served with warm ale. It was unusual, but it did not taste bad at all, probably too hungry to care.

When she groaned her pleasure, sampling all the food, he winked at her. "See, we are already making memories and connections."

She nodded her head playfully as she stuffed an almond cake into her mouth. Everything was so good, and nothing tasted pre-packaged or stale. It all had the homemade taste of ingredients measured by eye and mixed by hand.

By the end of the feast, they sat back in their seats, sated and glowing from the warmth in the tent. Claire sighed and downed the last of her ale from a beaker. "Okay, I guess I'll have to accompany you for a little bit longer if only to walk off everything I just ate."

He chuckled, his eyes lighting up boyishly. Damn! "I'm looking forward to it, Sassenach and I'm delighted ye accepted my invitation."

Claire had no fight left in her. James was so sweet, his blue eyes always playful, and his conversation light but entertaining. She wanted to spend the evening with him, even if it meant the play-acting was set aside, and the man of her dreams evaporated into thin air by tomorrow morning.

"Shall we go, Sassenach?" he asked quietly, interrupting her reverie and offering her his arm. 

She nodded and stood up, slipping her hand under the warmth of his arm. 

By the time they'd left the tent, the wind was calm, and the air didn't feel as cold. Claire put it down to the food, ale and whisky she'd consumed and her company. She noticed there weren't as many people compared to earlier, but the few that were left were scattered around campfires. They walked past a group of men in their Highland costumes, complete with dirks and swords. One was stood in the middle, preparing to tell a tale of the waterhorse of Loch Garve. Men and women gathered around, looking for the perfect spot. When Jamie gestured if she wanted to listen, she nodded.

They sat further away from the campfire as James took off his plaid and laid it on the ground for her to sit on. With the boulder behind them, they leaned back and sat side by side, his thigh touching hers.

Claire turned to Jamie. "There are few things I love more than waiting for a play or a story to begin," she whispered.

James' arched an eyebrow. "Is that so? Why?"

She shrugged. "I'm not quite sure. Look at everyone ...they are excited but quiet, hopeful but a little uncertain. It introduces a particular mood and air, you know? Like we're all preparing for an experience or adventure if you will. There's nothing else like it. Instead of reading a book, we get to be in it, but not so much a part of it we are not ourselves. We are away from risks and threats. We are safe but affected, and changed. The storytelling is part of that, but really, the mood a storyteller set is the most important part."

He stared at her intently, his body so intuned with hers, she forgot their surrounding. "Ah, Sassenach, ye are a poet. That is precisely accurate. That is how I feel right now, and every time I sit down to listen to stories of the old. And All Hallows' is particularly ripe for atmosphere, do ye not agree? The wind, the fire…"

"The feeling of someone watching you and ghosts just around the corner?" Claire added, getting caught up.

James chuckled. "Ach, Sassenach, what is a ghost really? I am no' frightened of spirits, and do ye want to know why?"

Claire had been terrified of evil spirits and ghosts ever since she watched The Exorcist. So she nodded, wanting to know how anyone could not be afraid of the possibility of a haunting.

"Weel, I am flesh and blood. I am my eyes, my smile and the work I do." He motioned to himself. "But I am also spirit, that immaterial element no one else can claim, and I am anything but frightening. All my ghost would be is me, without the shell. That which makes me me, but less substantially in the world, am I right?"

Claire smiled as she the digested his words, "Well, yes, but you are a wonderful soul. Not every person is. As a woman, I've met my fair share of men with truly terrible spirits. If they die, I wouldn't want them lurking about."

Jame's eyes twinkled. "You are very shrewd, Sassenach. My ma and pa are going to love ye. Maybe if ye are inclined, I'll introduce ye to them after our walk ... that's if my spirit has no' scared ye off, that is…" He waggled his brows and made a funny face.

She slapped his arm and laughed, but her laughter died when she caught him looking at her. For the first time, Claire really looked into Jamie's eyes instead of avoiding it shyly. The smile in them remained, even when his face took on a more serious look. They stared at each other, locked in an intense moment, before turning their attention back to the storyteller.  How could that one stare make me feel like I'm spiralling out of control and into love? Love? Where the hell did that come from? 

"Claire?"

Her heart started to beat as he inched closer and put an arm around her shoulder. "Yes?" she squeaked, unable to look, afraid she would not be able to resist him. But when a finger touched her chin, she was forced to look once more into his beautiful blue eyes.

"Do ye mind if I kiss ye? Because if I don't, I think I'll die, and I'll regret it for the rest of eternity."

Her heart and mind had been playing tug-of-war for the last couple of minutes, but the way he asked and stared at her lips became her undoing. "No, I don't mind at all," she whispered. "But do you think ..."

His lips swooped down upon hers, smothering her words with the sweetest kiss and extracting a soft moan from her mouth. One firm hand gripped her waist and the other moulded to the back of her head, pulling her gently against him. 

She hadn't expected to be kissed today nor to fall in love in the brief time they'd spent together. But his mouth was warm, soft, intoxicating, and all-consuming. She lost track of time and place as everything suddenly seemed to spin out of focus and control, only aware of the movement of his lips and his hands sliding up and down her back.

When they broke their kiss, she stared at him for the longest time, and it was as if she was looking through him for a moment like he was a malfunctioning hologram.

"James?" She gripped his arms in panic, but he felt solid enough, though ice cold.

"I'm here, Sassenach," he whispered.

Why does his voice sound distant?  She turned her head to take in her surroundings, and a chill shook her body. Everything looked odd, like a double-exposed photograph. On the misty surface was a more modern, brighter, lighter version of the hillside, and underneath sat the darker, dirtier, more romantic version of this place.

Suddenly, she felt nauseating fear, her eyes focusing and unfocusing like she was losing grip of reality. The twin pictures swam together in a confusing pattern before her eyes. She turned to James, and it was like she was looking at a ghost of the man she loved.

"James, please don't leave me!" She reached out to him at the same time he reached out to her, but she only grasped air.

"Sassenach!" he called out, his voice was the barest of a whisper, and then just like that, he was gone.

Her surrounding was one big whirlwind around her, images rushing and a loud buzzing sound echoing in her ears. Unable to cope anymore, her eyes closed and she fell to the ground.

..........

"Lass, are ye alright?" Claire felt a gentle hand on her cheek, and she sat up, abruptly.

"James!" She gasped, hoping for a sign of him. She was confused at the sight of unfamiliar faces peering down at her.

The red-headed girl looked worried. "Did ye come with a friend, lass? I thought I saw ye alone. Ye screamed and passed out, but everything is fine now, hen. There was a spirit, a benevolent one, but I think he's gone. I'm afraid ye might have scared him off. Do ye feel like ye can stand?"

Claire ran a hand at the back of her head, deeply confused. She stared around her and was shocked to find a few people encircling her. She shook her head vigorously, probably in an attempt to shake off the cobwebs in her brain. "Where's James?"

People around her muttered and murmured to each other, and the words "fainted," "hit her head," "concussion" reached her ears.

She was about to stand and tell them her head was fine when the pocket of her jacket vibrated. She pulled out her phone and was surprised to see it caked with mud. She swiped the screen to read the message from Jenny.

OMG. I'm so sorry, Claire. Jamie called and said he's on his way. He fell asleep and forgot the time. He said he'd be there soon. Please don't be mad at me. So sorry!

What the hell?   Could Jamie and James be the same person?  She didn't think so. It had to be coincident.

Claire leaned against the boulder to get a foothold and stood as the red-headed girl helped her up. "Do ye feel better now?"

She muttered she was fine and gave the girl a weak smile hoping, they would leave her alone. 

"If ye need anything, just ask for Geillis. That's my name. I'll be over there in the third tent selling some t-shirts," the girl offered, her face still looking worried.

"Thank you," Claire whispered hoarsely. "I'm alright now. I must have passed out because I haven't eaten anything all day. I'll go and get something to eat and drink."

To her relief, Geillis nodded and walked away, followed by the rest of the crowd. Claire stayed where she was, totally confounded by the recent event.  James had to be real, or I am going nuts. It had to have happened because I could still feel his lips against mine.

"James, where are you?" she whispered to the cold air, wiping away the tears that now streamed down her face.

She was about to go when a hand touched her elbow. "Excuse me miss, Are ye Claire Beauchamp?"

Her heart hammered against her ribs at the sound of the familiar voice. Slowly she turned around. "James?" she whispered.

The modern version of James grinned and extended a hand. Gone was his Highland garb and in its place were a sweatshirt under a leather jacket and jeans. "It's Jamie, everyone calls me Jamie," he greeted. "And I'm so sorry, I'm late. I fell asleep and had the strangest dream. But never mind that. Are ye hungry? Shall we go for something to eat? I havenae had anything to eat all day."

Her mouth opened, closed and opened again, unable to string words to form a sentence. When she finally was able to speak again, all she could do was give Jamie her best smile and take his offered hand. "Nice to meet you, Jamie. Ummm ...have we met before? You look someone I know."

He smiled, and his eyes twinkled. "Ah, I was gonnae asked the same thing. Ye look very familiar. How about we talk about it over a glass of ale?" 

Before she could answer, he offered his arms, and he looked delighted when she took it. "Sounds like a grand idea," she said, her heart beating a million miles per hour and she wondered if he could hear it. "Do you know by any chance where we can eat some clootie pudding?"

He laughed out loud. "I know just the place, Sassenach. I know just the place."

And he led her to the same spot where James had taken her, but this time, the tent was much bigger, filled with people drinking and eating. Taking her hand in his, he guided her inside. She was about to point an empty table when he leaned down to her ears and whispered, "By the way, Happy Halloween to ye, Sasssenach. I have a feeling this is going to be the best Halloween ever."

She smiled and off they went to celebrate her first Samhain festivity.

[lady-o-ren]

Sorcha

Previously

LAST TIME

"Is everything alright, Sorcha? You look pale as a fetch."

Murtagh with the barest of movements, shook his head in silent plea.

"I'm fine." Claire replied, tearing her eyes from the older man to Jamie's concerned face.

"Must have been the sun."

                                                        _____

Claire smiled awkwardly as all eyes were on her, searching for the lies she was sure were written plainly on her face.

"Indeed. Folk all over have been touched by it, keeling over like flies out in the fields. Dangerous it is to be out in it's full glare and on horseback no less." Ellen gave Jamie a look of disapproval that went unnoticed, as his eyes were fixed on Claire.

"Ye do look faint, Sorcha." Jamie brushed his knuckles to Claire's cheeks, a fevered tinge of pink from brow to nape that he found alarming.

"A lie down will do her well, aye lass?" Murtagh interjected, his tone leaving no room for disagreements as Claire felt the pull of submission to one as high as he.

"Yes, that's just the thing." Claire nodded, assuring the two redheads who seemed ready to throw her in a chilly loch.

"I'll put ye in Jamie's room." Murtagh insisted which Jamie began to protest wanting to take her himself, but Claire held up her hand in protest. He had come home for a reason, she reminded.

With a begrudging acceptance from Jamie, Claire excused herself and with a wary eye allowed Murtagh to guide the way.

_____

Claire was brought to a room that smelled of fresh, sharp pine and faintly of a cat who 'happened' upon an empty bed for his taking. There was a chest along the wall peppered with bits and bobs from youthful exploration. Colored pebbles and stones, chipped spiral shells of whitish pink and an oval speckled one of green crossed with yellow. Not to mention the balls of tangled string. Why he would need any of it was a mystery but she couldn't help but wonder what hid behind the drawers. Charms against malevolent spirits or oddities like a withered moles foot hidden amongst the shirts?

Books were in every corner - on the windowsill fading the leather with spines of loosened stitching, stacked on shelves threatening to fall just to be read and what looked to be one tucked under a pillow of a long bed in the corner. A favorite he hoped to dream of, perhaps?

Claire felt the awful need to touch every point in the room to share the secret that had been at Jamie's side all along. But the door closed behind her with a soft thud and the presence of another prevented her from unburdening the knowledge that stabbed sharply at her breast.

The man's face looked to have aged five times over since they were in the kitchen when Claire turned to him. His mouth was so thin a line his coarse bush of beard covered them whole, black brows so tightly knit they seemed unified in their worriment, and the familiar steady beat of fingers that she had the sudden urge to hold steady.

"A 'Bhrian?" Claire asked in a hush even though she knew the answer.

Without a word Bhrian silently nodded, the fingers at his side losing their rhythm.

Maybe it was the vulnerability he displayed or how changed his appearance was to her but Claire felt the tumble of words fall out of her mouth not caring that he was a God and she, but a speck in oblivion.

"How could you be so reckless to defy his law again? He was being lenient with you before but now…" Claire felt her throat restrict and dry thinking of the two in the other room, where Jamie was sharing an unknowing lie of his father's fate.

"Tis none of your concern, Rionnag bheag. You will do as I say and quiet yourself." Bhrian warned her all but losing his thick brogue. His eyes darted to the door and beyond to the people it did involve and shouldn't, couldn't know.

"None of my - " Claire glared at the command and what to her was a belittling endearment even as her chest pounded erratically at a being who could cease her living with a glance.

"Whenever your son's heart is gripped with sorrow he calls out to my own. To speak to me, pray to me. I would give Jamie all that I am to relieve him of any anguish. So yes, it is of my concern."

"And who do ye think his mother prays to?"

The glistening rays that streamed through the window faded  to a solemn dusk as Bhrian's voice cracked. "I will speak no more of this and neither will you to they. My time here is short as well as yours is now. We both must go to our lives as they were meant to be."

A 'Bhrian left her standing alone, heart lurching in a chaotic beat, with Adso scratching fervently at the door.

______

Jamie walked quietly to his room careful of creaky floorboards and the clank of the iron handle as he turned it. Inside the dim room he saw a candle was lit, the flame too small to cast out the shadows but enough to lend it's sparse light to the ruffle of Claire's soft hair and outline the sweep of curves that sat atop the quilts. Adso was smug in her lap, experiencing waves of affection fit for a braw cheetie such as himself.

"Did ye have a fine time nosing 'bout my room?" His eyes narrowed in accusation but the turn of his lips suggested otherwise. "Anything catch yer fancy?"

Claire couldnt help the tug at her lips and replied matching his features.

"Nothing much I didn't know already. You have a mind for worlds set elsewhere, though your taste in literature is something to be desired. As does your interest in rocks."

Jamie walked over to the chest, thumbing the objects that had caught his eye for their colors or how the smooth or jagged shapes felt in his hand.

"Weel, my heid is made out of solid stone like my brethren here." Claire agreed emphatically while the corners of Jamie's mouth twitched. "And elsewhere seemed to have more promise for salvation. I was right about that, aye?" This time his answer was the flush of Claire's cheeks that the shadows couldn't conceal.

Seeing her disarmed Jamie was ready to broach the subject of her well being but Claire queried about his mothers, her voice sounding booming in the quiet stillness. Jamie sat on the edge of the bed facing her, his hands stretched out on his knees.

Ellen, he began, with multiple swipes of his head when he told her of his true intent when he left the farm followed by wide-eyed awe of the kindle that had laid dormant inside his blood. Then came the pour of drink with the dispiriting answers of He, who despite all the years she had hoped to see again. She sat stoic with questions here and there that did nothing to diminish the blow she had received until it came to Claire.

"She finds ye to be most wondrous, Claire and would like to speak more to the lass who has been such a blessing to us Fraser's over supper."

Adso's ears perked at the mention of food and curled closer to Claire, who continued to stroke the silver silkiness behind the cats ear as he purred in encouragement and stretched for more.

"Beware, my wee glutton is trying to sweet ye out of yer helping." Jamie teased his cheetie along it's paw, the nails unsheathing and then quickly retracting as Claire ran her fingers along his spine that arched in response.

"Adso can have my share, I haven't much of an appetite." She couldn't bear with praises to pile on the bubbling guilt.

Jamie caressed her cheek while the pad of his thumb skimmed along her smooth skin. Claire assumed Jamie was merely feeling for a fever as her palm met his wrist and where his pulse was surprisingly fast as a long exhale escaped her lips.

"Why must ye lie?"

"I'm not lying." She stated adamantly, regretfully, as Jamie removed his hand to join her other in the warm fur that raised with blissful breathing. He waited a beat, choosing his approach before answering.

"You are." Jamie insisted as his mouth upturned at the corners even if the humor didn't wholly reach his eyes. "You eat without a second thought to breathing and verra near savaged my hand when ye had the buttered bannock sopped in honey at Moubrey's."  

Claire searched his face and found his sworn word from days before that he would not press her for more, even if it drove him to frustration. Taking the branch he extended she returned the smile, however small, as the memory left a sweetness inside her.

"You tried to steal from my plate, thief and suffered the consequences that I have yet to regret." Claire gave Jamie a faint pinch at the back of his hand and he shook it away from her in mock injury.

"It was thievery or starvation and I'll gladly risk a digit when it comes to my stomach. We have that in common." This time his smile was true and Jamie took one last shot of persistence.

"At least have some to tea to soothe ye, aye?" He gently offered." You may find it to yer liking as much as any ale or whiskey ye've downed. Or have all three and drink us under the table."

There was no escaping the inevitable without  further sending his nerves on edge and Claire relented with a sigh that sent Jamie to go cat-eyed in victory.

"Well, now you have enticed me. Lead the way, Jamie and take note my warning of idle hands."

With a parting scratch to Adso, Claire grabbed Jamie's hand where his long fingers entangled with hers.

______

Supper however was not to be.

An argument was boiling from the kitchen down to the corridor, nothing new to the walls of Lallybroch. Jamie raised a hand for Claire to stay while he went to try to diffuse whatever mess his godfather stepped in.

"Ye've been out all day and you won't sit with us for supper?" Ellen sounded baffled and Jamie could imagine her hands at her waist standing at full height that even to him could be intimidating.

"Is it her that's the cause?" Jamie paused at the doorway and to his dismay Claire had followed right behind at his side.

"Jamie it's nothing, come away from there please." She pulled at Jamie's forearm to no avail, the rising fervor of him under her hands startling her to dig her her nails deep enough to mark.

"I ken you have a distrust of anything ye can't eat but I dinna think ye an ill mannered - "

"Will ye let me gi' a word in woman, It's no'  -"

Jamie came in then, dislodging himself from Claire's iron grasp and would have his own fisted with his godfather's collar if it weren't for the hindrance of a table between them. "If Claire hadn't risked herself at my plea, our fields would be a wasteland still with nothing but weeds to sustain us and I would no' have what is burning my veins raw towards ye now." The burning manifested itself in the crackling hiss of the wooden surface to black under Jamie's palms.

"I will no' have you shaming us, Goitsdh."

"Shaming?" The very word a scathing brand delivered to him from his fair haired sire. "Aye that's me. A blight to any souls happiness. A stain to look down on by ones just as she." And him. Murtagh's eyes were of an onyx gleam directed towards his kind with a star unjustly caught in it's path.

"Dinna look at her that way." Jamie's voice was dangerously low as angers ignited in a flash and ran like a current across the table catching on Murtagh's sleeve enveloping instantly.

Ellen was first to grab the pitcher, Jamie crying out in a panic as he was set to leap over the table - all for naught as Claire could only watch as the events unfold.

Murtagh's arm, encased in a furious red hued in blue at it's core, was extinguished by a downward stroke of his hand. His skin unmarred, only the sleeve was a burnt up nothing. Blue eyes all round staring in open mouthed shock.

The billowing smoke slowly dissipated to the open window as silence hung in the air until only one was brave enough to disturb the quiet.

"Who are ye?" Ellen's voice quivered as she held the pitcher still. Unaware? Ready to throw? Didn't matter it would break in a moment.

"Am I much changed from our first meeting?" The corner of Bhrian's mouth lifted most pitiful as his shoulders sagged. "Not so young. Not so resplendent as when I came to ye, mo chridhe, dying for your touch?"

Ellen's hands reached for Jamie's, hers now free as pieces of porcelain scattered the floor and water pooled at her feet. Her eyes brimming with tears searching his face for recognition of the man who left her longing in memories and dreams.

With his head lowered from Ellen's scrutiny of his degraded state, he bowed it further to Claire, who hovered just beyond the settling grey.

"Forgive me, Claire." He sounded remorseful, ashamed. "It's wasn't you my vile temper was towards. The only blame lies within me, my own weakness."  

Claire didn't know if she spoke or nodded her head in acknowledgement, her focus was on Jamie. Pale faced, jaw clenched shut that sent the vessels in his neck to rapidly pulsate and firmly at his mother's side keeping her upright.

She stepped away from him and they - the family Fraser.

"From the beginning. Now." Ellen demanded.

Bhrian slunk down into the chair as his legs numbed, the stench of the scorched oakwood, nauseating as he was the target of it's fury. He picked up the story as Claire knew it, that had been passed on from every God and high being to fallen star and man.

He had been given a punishment from the God that was all at once his father, brother, friend. To be imprisoned with haunting dreams so vivid of what was lost to him - where in the span of a heartbeat he had once held and loved holiness herself. It became a torment worse then death that festered and rotted at the core of his molten self. Bhrian begged the high one whose very name meant mercy, to exile him to the low lands of man to the woman who held the cure. But His high one, with a shuddering breath had passed his judgement that could not be overturned even for his firstborn.

Then in Bhrian's endless mourning surrounded by his own diminishment whispers crawled up his spine and circled him with promises of alluring hope…

And so Bhrian found himself inhibiting the mortal world as a man his beloved wouldn't recall. Every few years he was able to serve his family as any man would, in a body that strained with labour no longer effortless, to earn what paltry sum he could. Yet even when his joints stiffened to a gnawing hurt and he was soaked in sweat he felt the poison cease in his blood

"I am a cowardly man as ye can see my loves. I wasn't brave enough to exist without ye and put myself at stake just to be near you both." He finished in a voice so small and hoarse.

"All this time," Ellen murmured. "I thought of you as my one true kin when all my family forsake me. My - who would never lie to me…" Her lower lip was bloodless and trembled. "And now ye'll leave us again?"

"It's no' my will or choice. I'm only allowed so much time here lest the world boil from my happiness and others grows suspicious if they aren't already." A faint weakly smile crossed Bhrians face. "I have a few days, less if ye want me out in the dirt, mo ghràidh."

A few days. Less…

"Gods, I dinna ken what I want to do to ye but stay so I can scream til yer ears bleed and thrash ye till your raw." With words of vowed violence, Ellen then spoke most longingly -

"Stay, mo Bhrian, mo sheann duine."

His name on her lips, a scarcity hardly breathed that relit him close to ash. Bhrian was set to weep.

With a sharp intake of air he spoke to his son a child no more.

"And you, Jamie? I know you harbour a justified resentment of me, of that I will not deny. Shall I pick up my sword or will we settle this with fists?" He rubbed his arm, while unblemished, was still reeling in the rare sensation of physical pain and was prepared for more and worse.

"Your gift of sword melted and forged with the earth, unfortunately. Nor have I found it necessary to invest in another, considering." Jamie set his hand on the table palm up."I have no cause to fight ye. I forgave ye by a brook at sunrise." Where his - Jamie swerved his head in search of a pair of amber eyes finding empty space. Did his flash of violence cause her to flee?

"You should go after yer rionnag." Bhrian urged seeing his sons distress, a pain all too familiar." In my haste to keep myself from the two of ye I may have broken her heart. A sin to do so to a daughter of the moon for they lose their radiance." And fall from grace endless till their no more then dust. But Bhrian withheld such dour information to himself.

"I take no offense, mo mhac." Bhrian spoke at Jamie's loyalties splitting him down the middle. "We will have our own time after your mother has her vengeance." Ellen's eyes flared as she smirked and Bhrian felt a shiver go down his spine. With an exchange of words Jamie headed out the door.

"He gets that tenderness from you, ever since he was a bairn, bringing any injured creature his wee hands could grasp. But ye ken that."

"And the strength mightier then a God from ye, mo chridhe. But ye know that."

Then a shyness creeped in that talk could not alleviate- still too great a many conversation that needed to be had - the only resolve was most upfront in Ellen's mind. She rose from her seat to be at Bhrian's side, whose breathing was ragged at her being so near. She touched his hands, nicked and splintered, furred black at the backs with knooby nuckles, hiding their elegance that had at once held her as if she were as holy as he. Ellen pulled them to her now giving him permission to touch her as he pleased.

They stayed where they were, fingers twitching at the fabric, palms broad at her thighs.

Ellen regarded the features of her beloved that lay hidden in a hardened face and underneath a mangy beard she'd swear to shear before dawn. She traced his face from temple to chin and with a grin pinched his longer nose. No, he didn't resemble much of the being of ancient perfection - yet, his eyes and hair were still dark as the veil of night that was overhead, with lips -now thinner - still holding promises of unending delight. Beckoning to her still as he burned rich in adoration, boundless and consuming to the bone.

"May I ask ye for a kiss to take with me to my lonely existence?"

"If ye had'na the scruff I would, but I see have no choice, mo ghraidh."

______

Claire was walking along the fence covered in sweetly honeysuckle vines and the odd sprout of violet buds that twirled with the white. She hoped all inside Lallybroch were not at one another's throats and as the potent smell of fire had yet to pierce the crisp air, she took it as a sign that all was well.

But still she lingered and would have stayed so, reluctant to interrupt the family finding their way, if it weren't for a heated touch at her shoulder that ran down to cup her elbow, turning her, drawing her near.

Jamie's natural ruddiness was dulled in the twilight, and his brows furrowed with a heavy crease between that gave her heart a stutter. Had it all gone wrong with his father? The hurt of the deceit too deeply rooted?

"Did it not go well with your father?" Claire raised her hand letting her fingers gently grazed the barely there stubble at his chin. "Is there anything I can do?"

Jamie shook his head, keeping her hand firmly to him by her wrist.

"It went more then well and I can hardly believe the truth of it. But you, mo Sorcha, took to the wind and had me worrit that I frightened ye with my temper. Ye must ken I had'na meant for it to happen, that I would never do such a thing."

"I know it, Jamie. A man who has empathy for trees would do no harm to a living soul. But thank you for defending my honor, even if it wasn't necessary." Her fingers had been brushing the curve of his jaw, with every stroke reeling him closer and closer so that he breathed his relief against her face. But only briefly.

"He - my father told me all, Sorcha. Of how ye knew who he was once you saw him, what he asked of ye and -" Jamie paused, trying to repress a forming frown. "Of how he could take ye home. I did vow I would see ye safely to yer proper place, though I figured it would be a ways from now." Months, maybe a year or more. Not days if even that.

Jamie tucked an errant wisp of hair behind her ear that the breeze had whipped about her face. Letting his fingers thread through her brown curls, already missing the way they made her huff in irritation and grow riotous in excitement.

"So did I." Claire croaked not meeting his eye, letting her own fall to the shriveled blades of grass beneath their feet."I never even got to see the ocean with you, see you pickled green with sick from it's briney waves." A smile faded just as it appeared at his spite towards moving waters. "We barely - and to never… " Her voice hitched as her ribs contracted, squeezing her lungs, suppressing words too painful to speak.

But her falter gave Jamie a surge of courage to ask his star for once what she wished for, no matter the answer. His arms came around her tenderly emanating warmth that thawed the vise at her ribs.

"You never asked to be here, to be torn away from all ye knew. Tell me, Sorcha, what does yer heart yearn for and I'll shower ye with all the glory of such a thing."

A choice of path no longer clouded with confusion and doubt or fear of what stirred at her breast.

"All my heart desires, that overwhelms me with such wanting, such happiness and so much love is you, Jamie. The only soul who ever looked upon me and saw hope, you who gave me second life." A confession so freeing even as it left Claire's heart hammering with breathlessness.

An ache so acutely echoed in that very same soul whose eyes of blue so like the core of impassioned fires sought hers and Claire had the dawning realization that she was never to be alone.

Her heart began to hum.

Jamie's hands splayed at Claire's back throbbed hot and gathered her to him till their heads were bent to one another. Where their chests heaved together, breath dizzied one another and all else was blotted away.

"Even if I canna adorn ye with the hallowed rings of Satárn? For all that my two hands are capable of they only offer ye a farmers life or of a wanderer sleeping in heather."

Did he truly think she cared? Her hands made their ascent up his chest that caused his lips to part for air and one went further still to cradle the back of his head to press it firmly to hers.

"The rings of Satárn are of rubble and I'd rather be with you in the freezing rains climbing a cursed mountain or in fields of sweltering heat. I love you more then any barren abyss."

A love that welled under the skin.

Where a hum became a hymn, so rousing. Reflecting starlight, so lustrous to be the envy of every star dotted above.

That set a another to burst in brilliant firelight and for all that bathed in it's beauty- every stalk, every blade and petal to flourish in magnificence.

"And I you, mo prìseil Sorcha. And I will -" Claire rudely, impatiently, boldly silenced Jamie with a kiss that he didn't seem bothered by as the roiling blaze sunk deep into their veins.

They saw one another in every flaw, every perfection They saw the span of their life intertwined past the time of Earth past the point of time where all that stood was he and her.

Even then we're they engulfed in whiteflames.

                                                      ______

And so it was that the night was long and peaceful. A gift bequeathed by the moon goddess herself, the keeper of all secrets for ones so deserving.

They who sought eternity in a lovers embrace.

A boy held his precious starlight close to his breast as consciousness stirred her to wake. A whimper was heard, a dreamy sigh responded and further they melted into one another with whispered reverences of love.

Another sigh was heard as Ellen shut the door to the room filled with a gauzy glow.

She was met with a crooked curious smile from her other half. With a shake of a head and wave of a hand, the red haired lass pulled 'Bhrians bare cheek, no beard to tug.

No cinders to smother just yet.

Ellen clasped her arms fiercely around his middle craving every lost touch as he crushed her to him as well. He rocked her back and forth where he reassured her again and again -

"We will have this day and many more to come."

Even if he be damned for it.

*The gaelic word for the sun is A'Ghrian but there is no emotional attatchment there and rather than going between three names I switched the G to a B for Brian. *Murtagh means Sea and skilled or skilled navigator which is close enough to water to be the suns opposite. *The High God is Lord John Grey who isn't evil just a stickler for the rules!! I mean Bhrian sent the world to chaos what was he supposed to do. John also means grace and mercy. Very fitting. *There is no scottish gaelic word for Saturn so I took it from the irish gaelic.

*Rionnag is star

* Mo sheann duine is my old man

*And I always forget- Mo preseil sorcha is my precious light I'm probably forgetting other tidbits too...

Sorry for another late update. I had this outlined this as fast paced and blunt when it was paired with the last chapter but separately just didn't work. So i had to rewrite this from the ground up and really struggled and drowned in the juggling act of two important conversations and emotions, when to be dramatic and when to be light. Love confessions that are a headache to write... Urgh! I hope it all makes sense I tried to keep the essential stuff (I deleted alot of convo between Jaime/Bhrian and Claire/Ellen..)

And finally, THANK YOU to every single person who read this little fantasy story that I thought literally no one would read and to every kind comment i recieved.

I hope you enjoyed the journey!!!

[lawofavgs]

The Sacrifices We Make - Chapter 3

Chapter 1 

Chapter 2

I thought I was dead

Laying in the damp grass with my eyes closed, even before my wits had the chance to return to me, I knew that I had just taken my last trip through the stones. Without a doubt, I realized another attempt would kill me. Every part of me felt weak, ripped apart and put back together haphazardly. I could only pray that the life growing inside of me was sheltered and safe.

There was a moment, remaining in a prone position and refusing the open my eyes, where I could convince myself that I was anywhere – any time. I could be back in 1743, where I knew familiar faces were running about the Highlands. I could be in the 1940s, so close to safety for myself and my child.

The echoing sound of cannon fire tearing through my serene thoughts shattered any illusion I could have about the year. 1746, the Battle of Culloden.

Irrationally, I began yelling Jamie’s name, as if he had just brought me up here himself to send me away to a better life. I sat up and began looking around in a panic. Surely he must be close, possibly descending down the hill to return to the battlefield, or already on horseback. Even as I looked, I knew logically that I would not catch sight of messy red hair or familiar tartan. Jamie wasn’t here.

If my plan had worked, he had never been here.

I spent a long time sitting in the grass, heartsick yet sure of my decision. Now was the time to formulate a plan, to choose where I went from here. Trying to survive as an unwed pregnant Englishwoman now would be impossible. Even if I journeyed to the nearest garrison, told a heart-wrenching and sympathetic story that would grant me passage to England, I had no one to go to. My only option was the one that held the most promise as well as the most potential for emotional destruction.

I stood, and once more, I started off towards Lallybroch.

---

I had spent so much time over the past three years traveling through the Scottish Highlands and living off the land. Whether in times of peace with the rent party of the Mackenzie men, or in times of war with the Jacobite army, I had always been able to survive the elements, no matter how harsh. However, there were now two obvious differences that I was dealing with. First of all, I had no horse to take me quickly over the terrain. Secondly, I was alone. Jamie wasn’t here to help catch rabbits or plot the best route or keep me safe while I slept.

My journey was slow-going and took everything I had. I foraged as much food as I could find, slept in short bursts hidden amongst large rocks and fallen trees, and kept a wary eye out for Redcoats in search of Jacobite soldiers. There were times I believed I wouldn’t make it, that I would lie down on the spot and give in to the inviting oblivion of death. That’s when my hand would find its way to my stomach; to the small bump that encouraged my feet forward. The familiar nausea was the greatest gift I could ask for. As long as I felt the upheaval in my gut, I knew my baby still had a chance.

It felt like a lifetime, my mind plagued with uncertainty that I was going the right way and Jamie’s voice in my head guiding me along, before I finally spotted it: the “north-facing” tower without a face. I wanted to fall to my knees and weep. I didn’t care about the consequences or the implications of what my interfering may have had.

If Brian had been able to avert the disastrous future ahead of him, Jamie, at 25 years of age and a future Laird instead of an outlaw, would most likely be married. Throughout my travels here, my heart would sink at the thought. Now that I had made it, I could only count my blessings that I was alive and in a place where I could find safety and shelter.

Feet blistered and sore, head woozy from lack of nutrition, stomach rolling from the not-so-morning morning sickness, I pushed myself that last small distance through the fields towards Lallybroch, towards something so known and yet so unfamiliar at the same time. Towards….

“Sassenach!”

My heart stuttered for a beat or two at hearing the name, lungs seizing inside my chest. I followed the sound and saw Brian, standing near a cart of hay with a pitchfork in his hands. Even from this distance, I could tell he didn’t look too much older than he did when I last saw him – in 1740.

He quickly made his way over to me, placing a steadying hand on my shoulder as a wobbled slightly. It felt as though the last of the adrenaline fueling my journey had seeped out of my body in a rush and left me drained and feeling every ache and ailment.

“Ah Dhia,” he muttered as he looked me over. “That’s…that’s the same dress ye wore when I brought ye to the fairy hill.”

He looked at me as though I was a ghost, and perhaps to him I was. I stood before him, the mysterious woman who delivered a prophecy of his doom and his family’s torment, not changed in the six years since I disappeared like a mist before him.

All of a sudden, he came back to himself. Snapped out of his revere, he held my upper arm firmly but gently and urged me forward. He shouted to one of the men working the fields with him to run to the house and have Mrs. Crook heat some stew right away. I barely managed to stumble beside him as I willed my body to push on just a little bit further. Through the doorway and up the steps I had treaded upon so many times before, Brian assisted me the whole way. The smell of cooked food washed over me like the most soothing balm, nearly knocking me over with relief. Thankfully, Brian helped me down into a chair and ushered Mrs. Crook to the table. A large bowl was placed right under my nose, along with a plate of bannocks.

“The famine,” I croaked out, turning a panicked gaze towards Brian. “Did you prepare?”

The Laird, once dazed, smiled warmly. “Aye, lass. We’ve been growing potatoes for years, and we’ve built up quite the stockpile of food and supplies to get us through the dark years to come. Thanks to you. Now, eat yer fill. Mrs. Crook will have a bed prepared for ye when that bowl is clean.”

Not needing to be told twice, I dug in with enthusiasm. To me, this was the grandest meal I had ever been served. I just barely remembered to observe proper manners by not attacking the food like a wild beast, telling myself that anything wolfed down too quickly would make an unwelcome reappearance shortly thereafter.

Standing off to the side, Brian broke the silence. “Can ye tell me yer name now?”

“Claire,” I replied after I swallowed a mouthful of vegetables. I paused, realizing I would once again have to conceal my recognizable married name. “Claire Beauchamp.”

“Weel, it’s a pleasure to meet ye formally, Claire.”

After half a dozen more spoonfuls of the fragrant broth, I spotted a flash of dark hair out of the corner of my eye; a woman peering into the dining room with wary curiosity. Too tired from all that had happened to be cautious, I offered a timid smile. “Jenny.”

Jenny pulled back slightly as though slapped. Instead of responding, she turned to her father with a questioning gaze.

“A nighean, this is the lass I’ve been telling you about all these years, the ban-druidh, the one who saved our family. Claire Beauchamp,” Brian explained casually, as if introducing his daughter to a childhood friend and not a prophesizing witch. Jenny still didn’t seem settled, and with a quick nod, made a hasty retreat.

“Did she marry Ian Murray?” I asked suddenly, hoping my interference hadn’t impacted their union.

“Aye, about 5 or 6 years ago now. They have three bairns of their own.”

“Wee Jamie, Maggie, and Kitty,” I finished for him. He seemed a touch surprised before he remembered exactly who he was speaking to. I wanted to ask about Jamie, to know if the future Laird had spent the past 6 years building a family of his own, but I was too cowardly to confirm my own heartache. Instead, I finished the rest of the meal in front of me and retired to the room that had been readied upstairs.

I have always believed there are healing powers in a good wash, clean clothes, and sleep in a warm bed. All it took were those three things – along with a full belly – for me to feel almost normal again. Gone was the wild woman who had pulled herself out of the forest, who had been scared and hungry and tired and alone, replaced with the clear-headed, civilized version of herself. It was time to figure out what was next for me and my child. At the very least, it appeared Brian’s goodwill towards me would translate into a shelter from the hardship befalling Scotland at the hand of Cumberland’s army. Perhaps I could trade my services as a healer here for room and board. I’d also have to explain the pregnancy and the unnamed husband who would have perished on the other side of the Stones, in a different 1746.

Unsure of how long I had slept, I made my way down the stairs quietly. I followed the sound of voices to the sitting room and saw Brian and Ian, both with drinks in hand. It was an odd feeling, to be in a place that was once considered my home, where I was now a stranger and a guest. Not knowing the proper protocol, I waited for Brian to acknowledge my presence and invite me to sit. A dram of whisky was thrust into my hands before I could blink an eye.

The sound of approaching footfalls filled the air and I knew without looking who and what I was about to face. No matter how much time I had spent going over this meeting in my mind, I knew it would never be long enough. With the confidence of a man in his own house, Jamie entered the room in a flurry of red hair and familiar tartan. Everything I had done to prepare myself mentally and emotionally for this moment shattered apart like the flimsiest of glass panes. I struggled mightily to contain the feelings from showing on my face, but more than likely failed miserably. It was Jamie, with the same copper curls and blue eyes, broad shoulders and capable hands that I knew intimately. Yet this Jamie was not mine. As far as I knew, he had not lived through the trials and tribulations of being an outlaw or a traitor. He was never flogged, never gave his body up to save his wife, never fought a losing war. Many of the physical scars that I remembered would be gone. Even from here, I could see his left hand bore no marks or stiffness.

“Grannie McNabb’s roof won’t be leaking again any time soon,” Jamie told his father by way of greeting. Hearing his voice again hit me sharply, his parting words still an echo in my heart. At the time, I thought it was a voice I would never hear again, outside of my dreams.

“Good lad. Jamie, I want ye to meet Claire Beauchamp. I ken ye didna believe me, but this is her, the Sassenach that came to Lallybroch 6 years past with her warning.” By the tone of his voice, it seemed as though Brian was relishing telling his son who I was, an indication that he was doubted before and was all too pleased to say, ‘I told you so’.

Throughout Brian’s introduction, I watched the curiosity in Jamie’s blue eyes transform into something else entirely. I’d seen the look before, but never once directed at me.

Mistrust. Anger. Disgust. The ferocity of it took my breath away.

“May I speak to you in the other room?” Jamie gritted out, teeth nearly clenched shut. Without waiting for his father’s response, Jamie spun on his heel and stormed out of the sitting area. A huff escaped Brian and I knew a Fraser showdown was about to occur. I would have found the situation more amusing if I wasn’t already reeling from the coldness of Jamie’s gaze.

Even after everything that had changed, did his soul really not recognize mine? Did it not hear the calling of its mate and answer back? Was he no longer the man that had wanted me from our first meeting?

You chose this, a voice inside me whispered.

I did choose this, and I would make the same choice again given the option. I would risk every ounce of happiness to save Jamie anguish and grief.  Still, my hand drifted to my midsection and cradled the little life there, sheltering it and bracing myself against the pain of prolonged heartbreak.

The men argued fiercely in Gaelic, and while I was able to catch a few words, they spoke too fast and too heatedly to follow along. I did hear words like witch, and fool, and trouble from Jamie. Brian had countered with safety and ungrateful. A few feet from where I was seated, Ian turned his empty glass round and round in his palms. His smile was tight and awkwardly uncomfortable.

“Jamie’s a bit of a hothead, ye ken?”

“Yes,” I replied quietly, “I’m aware.”

The conflict came to an abrupt end as Jamie stomped back in and stopped a few feet in front of me. Raising an accusing finger at me, his voice was low and menacing as he ground out, “You’ll take yer leave, witch. There’s nothin’ for you here. Leave us be.”

With an obvious lack of interest in any possible defense I could muster, he exited the sitting room once again, the pounding of his boots on the steps echoing through the air and speaking of his rage. I barely noticed my increased heart rate and shallow breathing. The walls seemed to be closing in around me and I struggled to rein in my emotions. The sound of Brian’s voice made me jerk out of my stupor.

“Forgive the lad, it’s been a stressful few months leading up to this date and he’s worrit about the hardships about to befall his family and our tenants.”

The words he spoke made sense – the Jamie I knew always put others first – but I had never seen him so cold. Even at his angriest, the emotion also burned and smoldered. This was like ice, permeating my spine and suffocating my heart. I wanted to speak, but the moment I opened my mouth, my body had other plans.

I raced back to the kitchen and grabbed a bucket, forcefully bidding farewell to the lovely meal I had enjoyed earlier. Tears slid down over my heated cheeks as I fought valiantly to catch my breath. Where would I go? Where would I raise this baby, and with what money?

“Yer with child then?”

I whirled around to face Brian, wiping a sleeve across my face in a poor effort to clean myself up and look slightly more presentable.

“How?” I gasped out, “How could you tell?”

The man smiled knowingly before pointing a thumb over his shoulder. “I saw my daughter handle three pregnancies. My wife, four. Nothing made them move as fast as when they needed to vomit. How far along are ye?”

“3, maybe 4 months? I’m not really sure. Things have been rather hectic lately,” I deadpanned, finding some water to rinse my mouth out with.

“Don’t listen to Jamie, lass. Ye’ll stay here, or in the village. I’m sure we’ll have need for a healer in the years to come,” he offered, as if he had read my mind. I suddenly felt drained and exhausted again. All I could do was smile tightly and nod, unable to voice my gratitude. After cleaning up the mess I had just made, I returned to the guest room, intent on getting some more much needed rest.

Before being mightily dragged into sleep by a fatigue I was powerless to defend against, my thoughts were plagued by a familiar stranger and his utter disdain for me.

[floralicious]

dynamic lives, static signals: part 1

telephone blues

Crossposted on ao3

part 2

Summary: Alfendi is tired, and Kat just wants her brother to keep in touch. Lucy is... otherwise occupied. A movie night.

Relationships: Lucy Baker/Hilda Pertinax, Katrielle Layton/Pipper Lowonida

Rating: T for language and implied sex

--

“And that about wraps up the Simmons case, Prof.”

Lucy dropped the file on the Prof’s desk, where he was sitting and studying another open case file.

“Thank you, Lucy,” said Alfendi absentmindedly. “I'll double-check it later.” He kept looking at the page in front of him, eyes glazing over as they moved back and forth pointlessly.

Lucy gazed down at the Prof. “You quite alright?” It looked almost as if he was going to fall asleep. Just watching him made Lucy drowsy. As her eyelids started to drop, her phone buzzed in her pocket.

“Yes, just tired. The amount of homicides going on recently is a tad overwhelming. I appreciate your help with all these cases.” While Alfendi spoke, Lucy took out her mobile .

Text from: Kit Kat

make sure al is coning to movie nite 2day

It buzzed again.

the basrrerd was “sick” last weel

“Hey Prof, Katrielle wants to know if you’ll be at my flat later for movie night,” Lucy said. “We’re watching some Rector film with Leonardo diCameo and Cate Quinslet, if that's any incentive.”

Alfendi sighed. “Tell my sister it will take a little more than a romance film to get me to see her.”

Lucy started typing.

Text to: Kit Kat

I don't think he wants to come. Seems dead tired if you ask me.

Text from: Kit Kat

tell that asdhole I’m getting the good pizza and mr. lipsli’s cookies

and if he doesn't come I'll make sure he ends up on a mysteey room caae file

“She's getting the good pizza from that place by Guildhall. And cookies from the bakery on Chancer Lane,” Lucy read from her phone.

“Plus she said, and I quote, 'if he doesn't come I’ll make sure he ends up in a Mystery Room case file.’ I think she means as the victim, Prof.”

Alfendi got up from his seat behind the desk. “Fine. Tell Katrihell I'll be there. Your flat is near hers, correct?”

“Aye, P. Usle Avenue. I'm number 33, just shoot me a text when you get there,” Lucy said. She smiled, writing a quick confirmation message to Kat before slipping her mobile back into her pocket.

“That being said, I've got to get back. Hilda will have my hide if I don't clean the flat before we have guests, and we've finished enough cases for today, dontcha think?” Lucy glanced back at the Prof for confirmation, but he was already buried deep in his case file.

“Yes, fine. See you later,” he mumbled.

As she walked out the door, Lucy shouted over her shoulder at the Prof. “It's at seven! Don't be late!”

-

Alfendi sat, stewing in his car. Traffic was a nightmare come to life at six o'clock on a Friday evening, apparently, and the unusually warm fall weather helped nothing. The inspector was sweltering in his turtleneck, even without his lab coat.

For fuck’s sake, he thought. I thought rush hour was over when I got home. Cars honked all around him, but Alfendi just looked out the windshield and mourned the loss of a quiet night at home.

Damn Kat and her damn movie nights. Why can't she just call me like a normal person to catch up? And I bet she's bringing her damn girlfriend too. Two goddamned couples and I'll be fifth wheeling. Good thinking, Al. You give in to your goddamned kid sister and now tonight will be louder than Dolly Hollerday at a kids’ concert.

Traffic started to move, and Alfendi moved with it. He supposed seeing Katrielle again wouldn't be so bad, but it had only been two weeks since they had last seen each other. One if you counted the time she dropped into his office on business. But he liked Lucy’s place, and Hilda would be there. The movie didn't sound so bad either.

This could be fun, thought Alfendi as he made his way through the still-busy streets. He braked suddenly, jerking himself forward as another car cut him off at an intersection.

“Dickwad!” He yelled out the window, shoving out a hand with one finger raised. Or maybe not so much.

-

Lucy opened the door almost right as Alfendi sent her a text. Over an hour later, he had managed to find P. Usle Avenue again. By the time he arrived it was 7:14 P.M., and the whole party was already there.

“Hiya, Prof!” Lucy beamed at him, and Alfendi returned the smile.

“Hello, Lucy. Sorry I'm late.” He stepped into the modest flat, which was filled with knickknacks and bright colors. His former co-worker was sitting on a large couch in the living area, typing something on a laptop.

“Hi, Al,” said Hilda, barely glancing up from her work. “Good to see you.”

Alfendi smiled. “Likewise, Hilda. It's been too long. You really ought to accompany Lucy to the Yard more oft- oof!”

Katrielle Layton had jumped on him, smothering him in a tight hug around the neck.

“Big brother!” She squealed.

“Hey… Kat… rielle…” Alfendi croaked out. He spotted a blonde-haired woman occupying a chair next to Hilda. “Hello… Mayor-” he gasped- “...Lowonida.”

“Just Pipper is fine, Inspector,” said the mayor through her giggles.

Kat released him, and Alfendi took a few huge breaths. “Jesus, Katrihell. Are you actually trying to kill me? After I showed up and everything?”

“Yes, because you missed last week's movie night!” Kat said in a voice suspiciously close to a growl. “I’ve been worried sick, not to mention you looked terrible when I saw you at the office last week. You look even worse now, you silly boy.

“Have you slept at all this week? And look at this. Roots, Al.” Kat reached up and pulled the top of his head towards her, frowning at the brown hair around his part.

Alfendi, head still bowed, met Kat’s eyes. “Sorry that making a living is keeping me from dyeing my hair,” he jibed. “We're a bit stressed up at the Mystery Room.”

“Wait, Prof, your hair color isn't natural?” Lucy had taken a seat and was leaning on Hilda.

“Nope!” chirped Katrielle. “He dyed it this color when he was- what were you, Al, seventeen?” Alfendi nodded in agreement.

“Around that time.”

“Oh Lu, you should have seen it! Dad was so shocked, I thought his eyes might fall out,” Kat said.

Hilda looked up and grinned. “Al made me and Justin help touch up his roots in school because he didn't want to pay for a professional.” Lucy laughed at this and buried her face in Hilda’s shoulder.

“Enough about my hair, how about the movie? And food? I only came because we're getting the good pizza,” Alfendi grumbled.

Katrielle’s eyes lit up like stars. “Oh, the pizza should be delivered any minute! I can’t wait! Pipper, you set up the movie so we can start it as soon as the food gets here, right?”

“All taken care of, darling,” the mayor said from her seat. “It's like you care about the food more than me!”

“Mmm…” mumbled Kat as she watched the door, waiting for a knock.

Soon the detective got her wish, and flung open the door. She hurriedly paid the delivery girl and toted a stack of pizza boxes in.

“Okay…” she said. “A medium Hawaiian for Al and Hilda…” Katrielle pushed a box into Alfendi's arms. He moved to sit next to Hilda, forcing Lucy to release her girlfriend and sit amongst several cushions instead. Hilda snapped shut her computer at last and turned her attention to the food.

Lucy took a pizza box offered to her by Kat. “Large pepperoni?” she asked.

“Enjoy,” Kat replied with a wink.

She handed Mayor Lowonida a small box. “A personal cheese pizza for my beautiful lady-” she sat down as close as possible to Pipper “- and two almost-everything pizzas for me!”

“How are you going to eat all that?” Alfendi scoffed. “Jesus, Kat. Good thing you bike everywhere.”

Katrielle frowned. “Well, I don't understand how pineapple on pizza could possibly taste good to anybody. How you two can stand it might be the only mystery I can't solve.”

“Oh, shut up,” Alfendi said, though he was smiling.

The mayor pressed a button on the remote, and the movie started.

“Ah, what romance!” said Lucy around a mouthful of pizza. “They knew right away that they were meant to be, even bein’ strangers to each other.”

“I think our love is just as strong, dear,” said Hilda. She dabbed at her mouth before moving to the other end of the couch. She sat next to Lucy once more and kissed her cheek.

“As is ours,” Pipper said. Katrielle smiled at her. Kat leaned her head on Pipper’s shoulder and took another bite of pizza.

“What about you, Al?” Kat said, mouth still full. “Anyone special I should know about? I don't know anything about your life, seeing as you haven't called me.” With this she gave Alfendi a pointed look.

He considered flipping her off, but decided to just speak. He didn't really care about disturbing the movie at this point. “Well, prospects have dwindled. I haven't met anyone worth dating in ages. Not that it's your business what my love life looks like, Katrihell.”

“Hmmm,” murmured Kat, eyes on the screen. “All I'm saying is that Ernest is available.”

Alfendi just looked at his sister, dumbstruck. Once again, he thought about giving her the finger. “Are you nuts? I'm at least ten years older than that poor kid! At least! Not to mention how you led him on, the sap.”

“I pay him now! And-”

“Y’know, I were jus’ talkin’ to an old friend of mine. She’s a pretty lass if I ever met one, and clever too. I'm sure I could convince her to go on a date with you, Prof,” piped Lucy.

“I appreciate the sentiment, Lucy, but it's really a non-issue. Dating isn't an important part of life right now. Work is the priority.” Now it was Alfendi's turn to give a pointed look to Kat.

She studiously ignored him in favor of the film. Alfendi grumbled indistinctly as he shoved a chunk of pineapple into his mouth. He grabbed a pillow from the couch and lay down on it, settling down to watch the movie.

-

“Al? Come on, wake up.” Katrielle shook her brother. Alfendi was passed out on Lucy’s sofa. He had shoved a pizza box to the floor.

Katrielle was trying desperately not to wake Lucy and Hilda, who had fallen asleep snuggling together.

She continued to shake Alfendi. “Wha? Kat, what’re you-”

“Shhhhh,” she said, pointing to the cuddling couple.

“What's going on?” asked Alfendi. He was whispering this time.

“The movie’s over. Come on, you can stay in my flat, it's just down the street. Flora’s room is empty since she's in America.” Kat paused and tugged on Alfendi's arm. “Up with you now.”

She dragged the man off of the couch. He reluctantly walked out the door with her, too tired to really understand what was going on. Katrielle waved an arm at Pipper, asking her to join them.

The trio walked down Kat's street. It was lit by sturdy street lights, the kind nice to look at. Everyone walked in silence as they admired the few stars above.

Kat thought to herself how idyllic it was. A perfect night.

They entered Katrielle's flat. It was marked by a pretty blue door,which creaked upon being opened.

Pipper flipped a light switch, illuminating the dark hall.

“I can drive back to my home, Kat,” said Alfendi, now at full volume and full attention.

“Hush, it's late and I've got an empty room. Plus, your place is across town. You're staying,” Kat replied.

Pipper silently moved to Katrielle's own room, while Kat and Alfendi headed towards Flora's. Alfendi immediately flopped into the tidy bed.

“I miss Flora,” he said.

“Me too,” said Kat, “but she wouldn't appreciate having your shoes on her bed.”

Alfendi laughed and moved to remove his shoes. “Thanks for letting me stay, Kat. Really.”

“Goodnight,” she sing-songed as she closed the door.

“Love you,” said Alfendi.

“I love you too, big bro,” Kat said through the cracked door. “Now sleep. You need it.”

Katrielle walked down to her room, where she found Pipper undressing. “Now that we're alone…” said Kat, “what am I going to do with you?”

They both grinned.

end

Thanks for reading!

A/N: This is probably super out of character but I don't really care

(P.S. I'm sorry if I butchered any accents please forgive my American ignorance)

Clarifications:

Timeline: Set sometime shortly after Millionaire's Conspiracy.

Nicknames: Alfendi calls Kat "Katrihell" because hell is what she gives him (haha I think I'm funny). Lucy kalls her "Kit Kat" because she's sweet.

Kat's cursing- She doesn't curse out loud as it's not very gentlewomanly, but has no qualms about cussing out her brother over text. He is, after all, the one who taght her every curse in the book.

The living situation- Kat and the mayor alternate between each other's homes. Flora lived in Kat's spare room for a month or so, but has since returned to her life and career. ( I think she's significantly older than Kat and Alfendi because she couldn't have been younger than 12-14 when Al was adopted or born. This is assuming he was adopted as an infant.)

Flora's location: Flora is in America with parties who will probably become named in a shorter follow-up fic.

Technology- If someone tries to tell me they have a crime scene simulator but not cell phones in the Laytonverse I'm going to scream.