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jiubilant · 3 years ago

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“And write, would you,” says Halfdan, leaning across the table, “that he owes me thirty septims and a half for the week’s work I done him, and if I don’t see that sum by Tirdas next—”

“Tell me plain, please, what you want written,” says the scrivener wearily, “without any write-this, write-that palaver, and I’ll transcribe it direct.”

“Pala—palaver?” Halfdan frowns at the word. “What is that? Elvish?”

The scrivener’s smile is polite, patient, and painstakingly practiced. “No.”

There are three of them crammed, not happily, in the space that is both hearthroom and home office to the only lettered man on Beefskid Street. Halfdan at the table, his broad back to the door, twiddling his thumbs; the scrivener’s gaunt girl sitting on the stairs, scowling at a book, her tail twitching on her knees; and the scrivener himself, smoking a straight-pipe, the fire in hearth and bowl lighting the fantastic hollows of his face. Halfdan, scraping by on odd jobs and a beached whaler’s half-pay, stares suspiciously at the sheet of paper spread on the table between them. The few words on it look to him like spidertracks: meaningless, meandering, and maybe not worth the five septims gleaming in a stack by the scrivener’s gray hand.

The scrivener, as if hearing his customer’s thoughts, twitches a pointed ear. He dips his pen in the inkwell—which he’s set dangerously close to his teacup, in Halfdan’s layman opinion—with a thinner smile than before. “Five drakes is less than you’ll part with if you take your business uptown, believe me.”

“That I know.” Halfdan gives the other man a bullish look. “But how do I know you’re setting down just what I tell you, eh? Without any—palaver?”

A strained silence.

“When we’re finished,” says the scrivener, the pipe bobbing between his clenched teeth, “I’ll read the lot aloud for you, if you like.” No longer smiling at all, he leans back in his chair so that, over his head, Halfdan locks eyes with the three whalebone god-statues glowering down from the man’s mantelpiece; crude-carved and ironical, they seem to have been whittled by the same hand as the scrivener himself. “My letter-reading fee is three septims.”

Halfdan, his pockets empty, stares at him. “You miserable pirate.”

“It’s all on the sign—”

“Damn your eyes, I can’t read the sign—”

Behind them, the door rattles with the force of three sharp, urgent knocks. Then the figure of the knocker, running fast, flits past the frosted window and away.

In the silence that follows, the girl on the stairs snaps her book shut. “Thalmor’s making house calls.”

Halfdan and the scrivener sit as still as the scrimshaws on the mantel. Then both men burst from their seats.

“Anything in the house?” asks Halfdan, clutching the talisman tucked into his shirt. Beneath his fist, his heart beats hard and fast.

“Of course not,” snaps the scrivener, though he’s shoveling enough papers in the fire to stoke it for weeks. He turns to the stairs and tangles his fingers in a way that must mean something, for his daughter nods, wide-eyed, and wriggles sinuous as a squirrel out the closest window. “Sooner worship a dog than your dead emperor. Are you wearing anything, an, an amulet, or—”

Halfdan, watching the door, hurriedly fishes the talisman from his shirt. “There’s this. And I’ve got I Love Talos stitched across my breeks.”

The scrivener looks at him in horror.

“I’m joking,” says Halfdan, and gives the talisman a mighty tug. The leather tie snaps. He uncurls his fingers and stares at his token of Talos, thumbed and tarnished by three generations of Halfdansson hands, which he had better throw out the window now, now—

The scrivener, swift as a spider, snatches it from his palm.

Then the door creaks open.

“Sit, gentlemen,” drawls the first of the inquisitors, sweeping in with a smile of disdain. Hoping to take them by surprise, no doubt, he’d used a spell of opening on the door; the residual magicka bends the air around his gloves like heat rising from coals. “Which of you owns this—establishment?”

“It’s mine.” The scrivener, feeling behind him for his chair, makes a tight fist of the hand holding Halfdan’s charm. Then he brings it to his lips and clears his throat. “That is, ah, I rent it from—”

“We have received reports of illegal cult activity in the dockside district,” the inquisitor continues, coldly and grandly bored. He studies the two men at the table as if appraising furniture. “Go about your business. Do not attempt to leave until we have concluded ours”—he wrinkles his nose, then snaps his fingers at the scrivener—“and put that out.”

The scrivener, with a wry twist of his mouth, sinks into his seat and turns to fiddle with his pipe. Halfdan, too, eases his bulk into his little chair. He is careful not to look at the scrivener. He is careful not to look at the inquisitor. He takes a breath—deep and even, like that of a man baring his back to the cat-o’nines—and slides his boot over the leather tie lying broken on the floor.

Two more inquisitors file in, tracking snow across the room.

Three.

Four.

“Best, I think, that we begin again,” murmurs the scrivener, taking up his quill. The plume only trembles a little as, all around him, his house fills with the squeaking of standard-issue Thalmor boots. “You are addressing one...Hjaldi Horker-Lip...”

“Harbormaster’s carl,” says Halfdan gruffly. He does not twitch as a passing inquisitor bumps the back of his chair. “Stinks like a horker, too.”

The scrivener smiles faintly. “And you would like to tell him...”

“Damned closet, this house,” one of the inquisitors mutters, squeezing between the table and the wall.

“Found the cellar,” another calls from the back room.

A third picks up one of the statues on the mantel. “Daedric paraphernalia over here, sir.”

As the other inquisitors stare, Halfdan studies his hands with great interest. The scrivener dips his quill into his teacup.

“Not our jurisdiction,” says the first inquisitor after a thoughtful and terrible pause. He’s standing by the stairs, resting a boot on the bottom step—where the child had sat—like a hunter posing with his kill. “Makes our job rather easier, in fact. How’s the cellar?”

“Clear, sir.”

“Then search their persons and let’s be off,” says the first inquisitor. “We’ve the whole street to sweep. Nord, stand up.”

Halfdan weighs the benefits and detriments of swinging at him.

Then he stands.

The scrivener must have slipped the talisman down his sleeve, he thinks, standing stiff and sullen as the inquisitor pats him down. Or maybe he’d dropped it somewhere, or—please, Talos—swallowed it. Halfdan should have thought to swallow it himself. Still standing on the leather tie, which will betray them just as easily if he so much as shifts a step, he closes his eyes and mouths a silent curse.

When he opens his eyes, the inquisitor is studying the hollow of his neck.

The hollow of his neck, where years of sun have left the ghostly outline of an amulet.

“Nord,” says the inquisitor politely, “do you often wear a talisman?”

There is nothing to say but the truth. Halfdan swallows. “Aye.”

The inquisitor’s smile is cold and slippery as fish.

“Why, then,” he asks, smiling still, “are you not wearing it now?”

Over the inquisitor’s shoulder, Halfdan exchanges a brief, bleak look with the scrivener. The man’s eyes are wide as coals. Halfdan pictures the Thalmor dragging them both out into the cold, the scrivener arrested for possessing a Talos charm, himself arrested for not possessing one—

“Amulet of Mara,” he hears himself saying, to his surprise. His voice is ragged and cold. “Used to wear it for luck in love. But I’m married now.”

The inquisitor stares at him.

Halfdan, his heart thudding in his ears, stares calmly back.

“Felicitations,” says the inquisitor, curling his lip. He takes his hand from Halfdan’s shoulder finger by finger, as if pulling it away from something unpleasantly sticky, and turns to his men. “What of the other one?”

“Nothing on him but pipe ash, sir.” With a look of deep distaste, the inquisitor who had spoken wipes his gloved hand on his coat. “Filthy habit.”

“Not our jurisdiction,” says the first inquisitor again, interminably. He looks a second longer at Halfdan—a keen, remote look, like that of a fox staring through the wire of a chicken-coop—then beckons to his men and turns away. “Come along. There’s nothing here worth our time.”

They leave the door ajar. When he’s sure they’re gone, Halfdan moves with a grim smile to close it.

“None too tidy, the bastards,” he mutters, stooping to pick up one of the scrivener’s scrimshaw gods. Either one of the Thalmor had knocked it down, or it had thrown itself from the mantel in a rage; Halfdan replaces it where he thinks it stood before, moving like a man in the dark, or in a dream. He can still hear his blood rushing. Out of the corner of his eye, past strewn papers and overturned chairs, he sees the scrivener reaching shakily for his teacup—

Halfdan catches his wrist. “Ink in that.”

The scrivener frowns up at him. There’s a dim, distant look on his face, as though he’s peering at Halfdan through several veils. “What?”

“Dunked your quill in it,” says Halfdan. “Sure you know what you’re about?”

They stare at each other. Then the scrivener’s lips twitch, and Halfdan ducks his head, and, though nothing is funny, they laugh themselves hoarse in the wreckage of the room.

“Ah, hell,” the scrivener gasps when they’ve mostly regained their composure. He puts the pipe back in his teeth, then pokes gingerly through the ashes in the bowl. “That was damned close—ow. Ow. Here.”

And he drops the talisman, still hot, in Halfdan’s hand.

Halfdan stares at it. It’s warm and real. It weighs as much as it did five minutes ago, and as much as it did when he was a boy, when his father first pressed it in his hand.

“Old fox,” he breathes, beaming, and clasps the scrivener’s arm.

“Old nix,” says the scrivener in turn. He shakes Halfdan’s hand hard enough to rattle the grins off both their faces, and yet the grins remain. “You lie like Felms himself—”

“Come and sup with me tomorrow,” says Halfdan, taking the compliment as he believes it’s meant. He thumps the smaller man on the shoulder, careful not to knock him down. “Eh? And bring that hellcat lass of yours. Plate of my Tilly’s potatoes ought to stick to her.”

The scrivener’s eyes glint with surprising humor. “So you are married.”

“Nigh on twenty years.”

“You’re twice the Dan I thought you were.”

#skyrim #tesfest21 #prompt: belief #ok my tags now...#microfic #oc tag #ravi #shurri

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adsosfraser · 3 years ago

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The Stone’s Toll - Chapter Nine

Read on AO3

Jamie woke that morning, to his wife tangled around him. The singular thing driving him was between his legs. He kissed her neck and tugged at her skin with a sharp sting. Claire stirred and smiled up at him. Gathering her bottom lip between his teeth, his hands meandered down her shoulders, to the slope of her breasts, to her abdomen, and finally lifted the plump piece of flesh that he loved so much.

“Is this real? Are you real?”

“Would I do this if I was only a dream Sassenach?” He pinched the backside of her arse and grinned. She yelped in response and swatted his fingers away from the now stinging flesh.

“You’re real.” She smiled and placed her palms on either side of his jaw.

“I’ll prove just how real enough I am lass.” He smirked and moved his hands away from her backside, further down to cup between her legs.

“Jamie. Stop.” Claire panted out.

“Have I hurt ye, Claire?” He immediately pulled away, hovering over her and softly brushing her sides.

“No, but there are some things I need to tell you… before we’re intimate.”

“Is this about Frank?”

“What? No! Why on earth would you be thinking about him?”

“Well did ye?-”

“Once. But I didn’t encourage it.” Her lips tightened into a line. “This isn’t what I wanted to talk about Jamie.”

Before he could eek out a livid response, Claire jumped out of the bed towards the corner of the room. Pulling out a small silver box inside her leather bag, she plucked out a dome-shaped cup. She had two more tucked away in the small metal tin. Her hands then grabbed purchase of a small vial within her medicine bag. The objects flew onto the bed and she plopped down next to Jamie.

“This,” she pointed to the vial, “is a concoction of fennel and posies.”

Jamie had grabbed the odd rubber cup and rolled it between his fingers. Claire swatted it out of his hands a little annoyed at her husband’s dirty fingernails; she would have to clean it again.

“And this,” she waved the small cup in front of his eyes, “is a diaphragm. Some call it a ‘womb veil’. These are all forms of birth control.”

“Birth… control?” He rolled out the syllables in his last word.

“Yes, preventative measures to avoid pregnancy.”

“Christ, ye would kill a bairn!” He immediately regretted his words as his wife recoiled and her eyes betrayed the hurt inside of her.

“No, because there would be none in the first place. It stops the sperm- seed from ever even getting into a woman to create the baby in the first place.”

“But surely God-” He spoke more softly.

“Would want me to use it.” Tears pricked at her eyes. “Jamie I’m not… I’m not ready.” Jamie shifted to hold his wife closer as the atmosphere changed from playful to sombre. “I couldn’t go through that again to not have my baby in my arms. I truly think it would kill me, it almost did.”

His heart softened at her admission and he knew he would do whatever would make her safe and happy, even if it meant a life of celibacy. But he hoped to God it would never come to that.

“I dinna want ye to bear another child. I wouldna risk your loss Sassenach.” Jamie carefully pulled a curl away from her eye. “Not for a dozen bairns. We’ve Fergus and our nephew and nieces- weans enough. And our two beautiful lasses are wi’ God. So,” he paused to blink away the moisture in his eyes and swallow down the tightness of his throat, “if this wee diaphragm,” he rolled the word around his tongue, ”and posy is what’ll help ye I’ll gladly pick it fer you every day if that’s your wish.”

He picked up the diaphragm from her hands again, inspecting it more closely. “How does this wee thing work?”

“Well, I place it inside me so it covers my cervix, it should rest comfortably against my pubic bone.”

“Ye put that… inside ye?” He was completely disturbed by the thought.

“It’s not like there hasn’t been anything in there before, and I’d dare say it was even larger than that ‘wee thing’.” She grabbed a healthy hold of him to emphasise her point.

“Aye, that it is.” He looked down with pride and she rolled her eyes at him, but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips.

“I’ll have to take the herbs one more week, to be safe. Can you wait for me?”

“I’d wait forever if it came to it, fer ye Sassenach, always.”

“Well, and we can always do other things.” She flipped Jamie to his back and her head travelled down his body to the curls nestled atop his pubic bone. “So long as you don’t, ‘spill your seed’ inside of me. Well inside my-”

He expressed his agreement with a loud grunt.

Six days later, Jamie was practically jumping in his skin with anticipation. He had gone back to the cave, much to Claire’s dismay. Instructing her to stay at Lallybroch, he wasn’t surprised when her head of curls popped into the shadows of the fire in his small sanctuary. He was very attentive, eager to make sure she kept up her steady intake of fennel and posy. They spent most of the days cuddling together and ignoring anyone else but themselves when he wasn’t out hunting for food. Most of the food was sent off to Lallybroch through Fergus. She didn’t want to admit it, but they were both avoiding their family’s disorderly presence and unanswerable questions. Fergus stopped by frequently and Claire was glad of the company while Jamie was off. Claire spoke to both Jamie and Fergus about her many childhood adventures; those stories were safe from the fresh pang of loss she had endured. But Jamie finally put his foot down on the final night when Claire got a crick in her neck and returned her back, but her wee hands gripped him hard into their bed. There would be no returning to the cave.

Claire wrapped a shawl around her and tiptoed to the window. The sunrise was almost over, bringing with it an unusually bright and cloudless day. She peeked down across the courtyard, and her blood turned cold. Jamie was pulling up his breeks over his sark. Without hesitation, Claire shoved Jamie into the small wooden closet of the Laird’s room and quickly pulled the laces of her skirt and bodice. Not a moment later, the door banged open to the sight of a pock-marked redcoat. His eyes scanned the room and landed on the closet.

“Where is he?”

Claire played dumb, not willing to speak to reveal that her accent would be the same as his. That would raise even more questions that she couldn’t possibly answer. The only thing she could think of at that moment was to play into the delicacy of her gender and faint into his arms. With an overdramatic flare of the back of her hand to her forehead, she slumped onto the floor.

Her prone position reminded her of another stiff surface. A cold metal sheet, uncaring hands, and a pressure in circles on her temples. Panic squeezed her throat and veins.

“Captain! This woman needs assistance up here!”

But it was Jenny who appeared at the door, not the Captain.

She gathered Claire onto her lap as best as she could being so far along in her pregnancy. “Oh no! My puir cousin! Ye see she had a great fall one day. The tragedy took her speech and now she has spells such as these all the time. I’m heart sorry ye had to see that Corporal…?” Claire relaxed into the familiar arms, so different from the ones that had restrained her.

“Lieutenant Wilson.” He puffed out his chest.

“Weel, Lieutenant, as ye can see my cousin Mistress Malcolm has taken up residence in this room recently. Bless her soul, the accident that stole her speech took her husband as well.”

The redcoat placed his tricorn over his heart and bowed his head. “Terribly sorry madame. Thank you for your cooperation.”

“O’ course, now away wi’ ye, we must prepare yer meal.”

Jenny was panting and gripped Claire’s hand when the soldier whipped out of sight. Liquid seeped down her skirts and to the stone floor below. “Jenny-”

“We must tend to the redcoats first.”

“No. Jenny. You’re only eight months along. We need to see to you immediately.”

“The Lieutenant-”

“Can go hang. Ian and Mrs. Crook will see to them.”

Jamie slipped out undetected down to the root cellar.

Jenny cursed, screamed and paced around her room. The midwife was impossible, refusing to sanitise properly before touching Jenny and Claire finally kicked her out. No woman like that would be touching her sister nor her future niece or nephew. Jenny slumped into the bed with Claire’s help when her labouring was over. Caitlin Maisri Murray was impossibly tiny when she met the world. No screams wrenched through her tiny lungs and Claire was immediately pressing the child to her thigh. Her forefinger and middle finger pushed into her chest and she breathed into the limp body. Finally, her chest heaved two minutes later, and her loud banshee shrieks filled the room. Her niece was a fighter. With her help, she would weather her first days, which would soon turn into thousands.

She had taken up massaging the baby girl to soothe her traumatised muscles from the hard birth. Claire cradled her niece’s turned head carefully in her hand and propped her stomach on her legs. Her hands began to deftly massage the exhausted baby’s back, legs, and arms, and once she was finished she gave a small peck to her wee nose. She still had a lot of growing to do to recover, but Claire was certain she would become a scraggly and loose-toothed toddler and a beautiful teenager before growing into the mature young woman she could envision her as now. Opening her bright eyes, moisture gathered at the corner of her aunt’s eyes in reaction to the brilliant colour. They were so like Jamie’s, and she knew not all babies kept their original colour, but she hoped. Would her daughters’ eyes have looked like this?

The men had all dispersed for drinks in the Great Room downstairs and Claire brought Ian over to the side to share the great news. She signalled with her hands to keep up the pretence of her muteness but whispered quietly with nearly closed lips as well to Ian. The Captain, Claire presumed, sauntered over to her and held out a paper. Laird MacKenzie sprawled across the material in an adolescent scrawl.

“A letter for your Mistress. We thank you for your hospitality and wish her congratulations.” Claire nodded and tucked the paper into the pocket beneath her skirts.

It was dark, the middle of night, and Jamie snuck back in when the redcoats mounted their horses. He fell asleep immediately tucked into his wife. She grabbed the small grey tin from within her leather bag and pulled out the diaphragm. She adjusted it inside her until it laid comfortably and sighed. It had been days since her return, filled with distress and sickness, panic and dismay, and the events of the past few months had come crashing down upon her once again. She needed her husband. Crawling over him, he woke from his slumber. He grinned up at her and slowly came back to reality.

“Thanks to yer quick-thinking Sassenach, not only was my life saved but my wee niece and all in Lallybroch.”

“You saved my life James Fraser, on more accounts than one. I thought it might be fair for me to return the favour.” Claire smirked and rolled their bodies so she straddled him. “And not only that, I want to protect you forever Jamie. To see you safe until we’re old and grey, with an army of grand nephews and nieces, and the grandchildren Fergus will bless us with, to surround us. You can’t get rid of me ever again.” She softly kissed his forehead, along his cheeks, the tip of his nose, and slowly brushed her lips against his eager ones.

“Och, Sassenach. Stuck with ye for life? I can think of worse.” He stared back at his wife with mischief in his eyes and adjusted his body so they were both on their sides.

Claire rolled her eyes as she lightly slapped his arm. She leaned even closer to him, which seemed impossible with their skin flushed up together already. Her thumb trailed a line across his bottom lip and she replaced it with her own mouth.

“Make love to your wife.” She whispered, obstructed by his lips but he heard her like his life depended on the very cadence of her voice. Claire let go of his lips to kiss the spot behind his ear that made him squirm. “Make love to me Jamie.”

Their lovemaking was frantic, both seemingly clawed to possess every inch of skin.

When they laid dazed on their backs, recovering from their post-coital bliss, Jamie lightly pressed his fingers onto the fading burns on her stomach and traced up to the two identical circles on her temples. Her hand found the healing scar on his thigh and she stroked over the raised skin. She looked at the large gash across her husband's thigh, still red with the newness of the injury.

“How?”

“Culloden.” He gritted out. “How?”

Her hands guided his towards her stomach. “The stones.” Now, her temples. “Boston.”

She didn’t want to discuss it any further, just as he was reluctant to share the details of that dreary morning on the moor. She neglected the scar on her breast and he didn’t push any further for her to speak on it. Would he feel ashamed of her truth? Of course, he wouldn’t, but she did. It was difficult for her to think back on. Speaking on it would make it true, so she kept those memories locked tight in her brain. Maybe, with more time she could heal, and she would share everything with him completely like they once had been.

“Boston?”

“Danvers State Hospital to be specific. Or as some call it- will call it the State Lunatic Hospital at Danvers. Frank put me there when I-“

“Frank did this to you?” Jamie’s teeth clenched in anger and Claire could feel the heat radiating from his skin onto hers. “If he were here, I’d fight him fer ye Sassenach. I should ha’ never sent ye to him.”

“You couldn’t possibly have known. You were doing what you thought best, with the information we had at the time.”

“What is it, that left these scars on your puir heid?”

“They’ll fade. Soon there won’t even be a scar, I’m sure.”

“I dinna care about how they look on ye Sassenach, I care that ye went through pain to have them, I would ha’ gladly taken it myself.” His eyes were glossy as he implored her. “Now tell me.”

“In the asylum, they had these new treatments, electric shock therapy. They place these two rubber circles wrapped in like socks or something attached to a headband on your temples, and send volts of electricity through your brain. Like harnessing lightning right to your head.” His grip tightened, appalled at his wife’s description. “My mind was hazy for days, I couldn’t do much but stare listlessly at walls. I saw Fergus then, on the first night following the treatment, though I’m not sure he saw me.”

“He yelled out fer ye, almost at the same time every week.”

“Oh.” It felt better to know those nights he was truly there. “I was in there for little over a month, so I only had to endure it two times- wait no three, I think. I was a lot luckier than others, who were prisoners there for years on end. I shiver to think what that would have been like, a prisoner to your own mind and unable to say no to your jailer, or even saying no but them being apathetic towards your plight.”

“Fer all ye speak o’ the future, it doesna seem much better than now.”

“It’s true, some people use their innovations for evil then, that’s why the war I was in started. Evil exists in any time, in any place.”

“Weel I’m glad yer here in my arms, away from those mad bastards, and I know I can be there to fight anyone who wishes ye ill.” Her thigh began rubbing between his.

“I am too Jamie. So much.”

Laird and Lady clung tight to each other in their bed, in their home knowing they would have to leave tomorrow.

#outlander fanfiction #adsofraser writing #jamie x claire #jamie fraser #claire beauchamp #claire fraser #fergus fraser #canon divergence #craigh na dun #outlander fanfic

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imagineclaireandjamie · 4 years ago

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Mod Lenny, I keep re-reading part 4 of The High Road and the Low Road hopeful for part 5. Is it coming soon? Thanks for writing!

The High Road and the Low Road - Part Five

After learning the truth from Claire, a furious Brianna runs to Craig na Dun to prove her mother’s crazy only to fall through the stones herself.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

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

Young Ian looked smug about something. Jamie knew that was rarely a good sign. Having sufficiently scolded his nephew – who hadn’t even bothered to lie or twist the truth about having absconded from Lallybroch without his parents’ knowledge – Jamit turned his attention to the lass Young Ian had brought with him.

She looked petrified, poor thing. Who was she and what had Young Ian told her as he brought her here? Why had he brought her here? No doubt part of her open-mouthed fear had to do with the yelling Jamie had just done in front of her.

“Apologies, lass,” Jamie said, bowing his head in her direction. “I ought not to have carried on so in front of ye. I’m Alexander malcolm and–”

“I already told her that’s no yer name, Uncle,” Young Ian confessed.

“Iffrin,” Jamie muttered under his breath.

The lass continued to watch him carefully. I unnerved him, her gaze. There was something familiar about her… He must know some of her people – her father or a sibling perhaps.

“Ian says yer name is Brianna?” The name felt awkward in his mouth.

“Brianna,” she confirmed but with a different emphasis, a different accent. Her voice was quiet and unsteady.

“I met her on the road from Lallybroch,” Young Ian explained. “She was lost and I told her I’d help her find her way to Inverness on my way back. I told her ye’d be fine wi’ her stayin’ wi’ us as I couldna leave her to fend for herself.”

Jamie kept his face controlled, motionless as he fought the urge to wring his nephew’s neck. His rented rooms were small and cramped and he felt no guilt making Young Ian sleep on the floor when he ran away like this – just part of his punishment really. But he couldn’t let the lass sleep so rough. What had possessed the lad to make such an offer?

“Ye’re lost then?” Jamie asked, turning to Brianna, hoping her plight would help to calm and refocus him.

But she only nodded, still too nervous or frightened to speak.

“Well, Ian’s right – I’ll no turn ye away do ye need a safe place, but it’s no the lap of luxury.”

All he got was another nod.

Jamie sighed and reached past the shrinking girl to take Young Ian by the shoulder and pull him toward the back of the shop. “A word,” he demanded.

“Where did ys find the lass?” he asked under his breath, his eyes drifting to watch her as she relaxed a little and began to look around the shop.

“It was near the fairy hill,” Young Ian explained quietly. “Craig na Dun.”

A chill went up Jamie’s spine at the mention of that dreaded place. Perhaps the lass – like Claire – had been ripped from all that she knew and was truly lost the way Young Ian said… Had she confided in his nephew? Would she need more help than the lad kent to offer?

“And ye say she’s on her way back to Inverness?” Jamie raised an eyebrow at Young Ian who tried his best to look insulted.

“Tha’s where she asked to be taken,” he explained.

“And so she will be,” Jamie nodded. “Because I’m going to see here there with ye.” (With a stop at the stones if it pleased the lass.) “Then I’m takin’ ye all the way home to Lallybroch.”

Young Ian’s face fell at the prospect.

“But Da’s likely on his way to fetch me as it is and ye cannae afford to take the time away,” the lad objected. “Really, it would help you and them back home more did ye convince Da to let me stay here and work wi’ ye.”

“I’m no interested in an apprentice as doesna do as he’s told,” Jamie countered. “Stop runnin’ away, help yer mam and da for a year wi’out complaint and then we’ll see if ye’re a fair prospect for me to take on. Now, we’ll leave tomorrow if I can manage the arrangements this afternoon. Day after if it takes longer to settle. And whatever this costs me in business, ye’ll be makin’ up to me should I desire to hire ye in future.” Jamie pointed a finger at an increasingly dejected Young Ian before turning to the lass to tell her the plan.

She was standing Looking over the copy of Pamela from the shelf of popular titles he stocked for patrons to examine. And she was. There was an amazement and reverence to how she held the book, a care to how she turned the pages, a curiosity as she ran her finger over the seams and spine.

“Ye can read then, lass,” he said, unintentionally startling her.

The book fell to the counter as she pressed a hand to her chest and muttered, “Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ.”

Jamie had been reaching for the book as he saw it falling but was lucky to grab the counter and brace himself as he felt the world shift beneath his feet.

“Uncle Jamie?!” Young Ian cried, dashing over to the man’s side. “Are ye alright?” He looked to Brianna, confused.

But her full attention was on Jamie and she looked frozen and maybe a little terrified.

Jamie brushed off Young Ian’s hand as he got his feet back under him, his own gaze fixed on Brianna, looking her over more closely. The familiarity he’d felt before… how had he misplaced it? She looked like the portrait of his mother still gracing the walls of Lallybroch. He’d always found something irresistible about the way Claire carried herself – not the self-assured confidence of a vain and beautiful woman used to being flattered (though Claire had certainly been the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen), but the confident bearing of a woman who knew and was sure of herself.

Despite the uncertainty and hesitation in her eyes, Brianna stood taller, rising to meet and hold his confused and hungry attention. It was something he’d seen Claire do a hundred times.

“Ye ken who I am?” Jamie croaked, then swallowed hard against the swelling in his throat. His hands felt clammy and shook as he tried to wipe them surreptitiously on his breeks. “Are… are you who I think you are?” he whispered.

“Are you Jamie Fraser?” Brianna asked, her eyes darting briefly – accusingly – to Young Ian. “Your nephew never did tell me your real name.”

“I am,” Jamie nodded. “And ye’re my… Claire – she… she told ye then? She sent ye?”

“She told me,” Brianna confirmed quietly. “She also told me you were dead.”

“Then she is yer daughter,” Young Ian piped up, victory rising in his voice. “I kent ye must be, soon as ye said yer mam’s name was Claire and that she was English. Ye’re the spit of Uncle Jamie and everyone at Lallybroch kens the stories–”

“Ian,” Jamie interrupted sharply. “Go see to the back.”

“See to what in the back?”

“Just go.”

“Ah… right. I’ll leave ye two to get acquainted,” Young Ian rambled, color rising in his cheeks and a smug expression blooming on his face. He disappeared from the room, though, and Jamie finally looked away from Brianna long enough to move to the front door and lock it against further disruption.

“Is Claire… How is she?” Jamie asked, still too unsure what to make of the grown daughter standing before him.

“Well, she’s probably worried and pissed at me,” Brianna said with a wary sigh. “My trip here wasn’t exactly planned – I mean, not just to Edinburgh but to seventeen-whatever year this is.”

“1766,” Jamie informed her. “It’s been twenty years since I bid yer mother farewell… I’ve thought of her – of both of ye – and prayed for ye every day since then.”

His voice was quiet and sad, broken and earnest. It tugged at Brianna’s chest in an unexpected way. She’d heard that sorrowful longing before.

It had been in her mother’s voice when she’d told Brianna about Jamie – about losing him.

She took a step closer to him and reached out to rest her hand on his arm. He stilled beneath her touch like an animal spooked and debating whether to flee or play dead. The thought helped put her own trepidation into perspective. He was just as intimidated by her as she was by him – perhaps more.

Brianna reached for what they had in common and found further comfort in speaking about her mother.

“I’m pretty sure she thought about you and prayed for you a lot too,” she told him. “I didn’t know about you for a long time growing up, but since she told me… there are a lot of things about her and about her and Daddy that make more sense now.”

“Frank,” Jamie replied with a tamed disgust that gave Brianna pause. “Did he treat ye well? Both of ye?”

“Always,” she said confidently before flashes of doubt flickered in her now-untrusted memory. “At least… I know he loved me and never treated me… I don’t even know. I never doubted him or questioned that he – and I always though he and Mama were happy. Now… now I wish I’d listened to her more when she was telling me the whole story and that I hadn’t – well, let’s just say I could’ve handled the news about you better.” She flushed, remembering her behavior.

For the first time the air of sorrow and longing lifted and she noticed curiosity creep into Jamie’s face.

“Aye, I can imagine it must’ve come as a shock to ye,” he assured her, his tone slightly cautious. “I didna ken what to make of it myself when she first told me the truth of where she was from. Didna matter much to me either – I was already too far gone for her. But she didna seem to care o’er much for my askin’ her was she a witch.”

Brianna stifled a laugh as the mental image of her mother first as the Wicked Witch of the West popped into her head before it transformed into Claire as Glinda floating in her giant bubble. Traveling by bubble was far more appealing than the thought of touching those stones again.

“I may have called her a few colorful things,” Brianna confessed. “I don’t think ‘witch’ was one of them, though. No, I was thinking more about the poker I hurled through the window,” she added in a quieter voice.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise and then she laughed. The surprise faded to an amused and prideful smile.

“Well… that might be a bit of the Fraser temper,” Jamie told her with a knowing nod, then leaned conspiratorially forward. “Though yer mam did throw a bit of crockery now and again – usually at my head.”

It was Brianna’s turn to mirror his surprised and impressed expression. This time they both laughed, drawing Young Ian from the back room.

“Ye’re no laughin’ at me, are ye?”

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

Ian had secured them lodgings for the night. They would reach Edinburgh the next day by his reckoning and he assured Claire that it was highly likely that Brianna and Young Ian had already reached the safety of Jamie and the printshop.

“Ye’ve heard it from at least three folks as have seen them making their way,” he reminded her as they ate from a tray in their meagre room. She would (reluctantly) take the bed while Ian and Roger made do on the floor with the pillows and blankets she insisted they take from the bed.

“Aye, Claire,” Roger chimed in, “she’s no alone and that’s the key thing. She’s safe and we’ll find her.”

“I don’t doubt that,” she asserted, though with less conviction than she hoped to convey. “It’s just… if I’d known he was alive and that they’d be meeting one another… It’s not how I would’ve wanted them to meet is all. For them to be blindsided by it–”

“I doubt Ian managed to keep it secret from her, did he truly ken who she was,” Ian speculated. “He’s the Mackenzie knack for plotting mischief, but no the knack for carrying it out well. More like to muck it up, that one,” he finished with a laugh.

He rose to carry away the empty tray over Claire and Roger’s objections.

Left alone, Roger still kept his voice low as he asked Claire, “Have ye thought what ye mean to say to Jamie when ye see him? What it means now ye ken he’s alive?”

Claire face told him what he already suspected – she’d been thinking of little else.

“Ye said it gets worse each time ye try to pass through the stones, aye? And ye werena sure ye’d even survive a trip back… Maybe… maybe it’s because yer place is here with Jamie,” he suggested.

“And where would that leave Brianna?” Claire challenged. “She’s still not over losing Frank and everything she’s ever known has just been pulled out from under her. What kind of mother would I be if I abandoned her now too?”

“Maybe ye won’t have to choose,” Roger replied, hope and resignation warring within him. “Maybe she’ll want to say.”

“I doubt that very much.”

Roger looked at Claire until he caught her attention completely.

“She didna just pass through the stones and run straight back,” he reminded her. “Brianna chose to come to Edinburgh. And she’ll have met a father she didna ken she had. You didna think to stay until ye met Jamie. She might surprise ye.”

“I’ve lived longer with both Brianna and the pull of life on either side of those stones,” Claire pointed out.

“And? What do ye think will come of it?”

“Heartbreak. Maybe not at first, but eventually. And the bit before the heartbreak has to be enough to help you survive it all.”

“Well,” Roger nodded and smiled. “I’ve heard ye tell plenty of yer time here before ye went back, so I think it’s a safe bet to say it will be.”

#fittergirl #the high road and the low road au #;mod lenny #featuring: brianna #featuring: young ian #featuring: ian #featuring: roger

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wafflesetc · 5 years ago

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Bonnie Wee Thing

@thelassthatisgone messaged me this: “I NEED A MISSING MOMENTS WHERE JAMIE THINKS OF HOW IT WOULDVE BEEN IF THEYD RAISED BREE AND FAITH TOGETHER!! Ahh!!!!! All his looks to Claire when she was holding the baby this episode 😭”

A/N: Canon Compliant within 5x04. I am going to just go ahead and give a warning to mentions of “Faith” and some of the things that happen in that episode. I just want to ensure people are in their right set of mind if they need to be. Happy reading!

& to @missclairebelle, @kkruml, @happytoobserve, @walkinginland and @ecampbellsoup who quite literally held my hand through this fic, I owe you all a dram!

I watched him from across the room. My husband was quiet, more so than usual. While we had talked about matters of the heart just shortly before, his silence felt like the two hundred year separation we had already once endured.

We had sent Alicia and Isaiah off to what was supposed to be our tent that night since we had been offered a room. Tucked back and away from all the chaos, it would allow the couple a few hours of rest and seclusion (ourselves included) until dawn broke. Once the sun rose, I would be leaving with Roger to go back to Fraser’s Ridge.

I already yearned for Jamie- and it always shocked me when I missed him like this. I had once been independent, willing and able to live (more like survive) on my own. I had done it to raise our daughter, but since I had returned, since Bree had returned to us, the mere thought of going any amount of time without my husband always made me feel uneasy.

It was the idea of not waking with his body aligned with mine, his hands running down my back the minute I first crawl into bed, the way he never fell asleep without kissing me goodnight or leaving my bed at daybreak without kissing me good morning. While I would miss those things, it was more the capacity James Fraser had for knowing what lay within my innermost being I would miss most.

He stood with his face to the fire, his mind on what I could only presume was the two lovebirds we were helping.

I sat on the edge of the bed, playing with the string on my shift. Our conversation in the forest had lit me like a match ready to ignite a fire, and now that we were alone, I wanted my husband.

Our love making was always just more than making love; it was the way our souls connected and said those things which we dare not speak aloud. There was a Faith-sized ocean between us while we had talked about Bree and Bonnie. I wanted (no needed to show him) to tell him just how much I had meant what I said. Slowly undoing the tie, I mustered some courage, “A penny for your thoughts?”

He turned to look at me and gave me a look that made me weak in the knees. I shivered as I registered his face. I could see the want, the desire, the smoldering need to possess me, yet there was a hint of some point he had left unsaid that hung in the air between us.

“Yer hair is down, Sassenach.” I could hear a small hint of playfulness in his tone.

“I know.” I took one of my medusa like curls and twirled it in between my fingers.

“Ye ken that is no’ playing fair.” He took a step towards me as he undid his belt and tossed it onto the chair.

“Mmmhmmm.” I stuck my finger out and motioned him towards me. “Come here.”

“Ye look like ye are undressing me wi’ yer eyes.” Jamie smiled as he unbuttoned his jacket-slowly and methodically, one by one.

I eyed him up and down, not even trying to hide it. “I told you, my husband is as handsome as he is jealous.” I cocked my head at him ruefully.

“What do ye think yer husband will have to say about that?” Finishing undoing the last button, he slid out of his jacket and tossed it on the floor next to the bed. Next, his hands found way to the button on his pants. With the same prowl and methodology of his jacket, he sought to torture me.

My breathing quickened as I watched him intently. His large hands shimmied his breeks down his well-defined legs. Apparently I wasn’t the only one who had been lit with a fire earlier, and I was ready to ignite a flame. We both were. I could sense the same eagerness radiating off of Jamie, yet there was a small hint of reserve inhabiting him too.

I looked up when his feet were within my field of vision and saw an honesty on his face that made me want to cry.

He got onto his knees right in front of me, intertwining my hands with his. I could feel the silver of my ring being twisted within his fingers. He was so beautiful, and somehow by the grace of some deity, he was mine.

“There is more you want to say,” I said rather meekly.

“Och, Sassenach.” He nearly whispered, pulling my hands to his lips. His breath was soft and warm, his stubble just the perfect length to send the chills up my back. “More a wee regret.”

I took my left hand and cradled his jaw and tilted his head up so our eyes were meeting. I could see the film of tears rising above his ocean-blue eyes.

“Faith.” I somehow got out breathlessly. Somehow, I knew his thoughts before he spoke them.

“I saw ye wi’ Bonnie and couldna help but think of her, Sassenach. I see Bree getting married, giving us wee Jemmy, bringing Roger Mac into our lives. We have Fergus- who gave us Marsali and Germain and wee Joan, and another bairn to come. He may no’ be of our blood, but he is of our hearts….”

The tears I had felt were streaming down my cheeks now. I used the hand still cradling his face and wiped his tears.

“Ye said ye regret we werena parents together, but Claire do ye really no’ see it?”

I shook my head.

“We...” His voice cracked, “Are enjoying all these things that I never thought I’d live to see. All these things I didna think I’d get to do, wi’ you.”

He took another breath and closed his eyes, leaning into my touch.

“I didna get the years wi’ ye and I am only a man, so I regret that our bairns did no’ get to live a life where we were together. I didna get to see ye wi’ our girls, the late nights, or see ye nurse them. Ye raised our child on your own and I dinna think I can ever repay ye for it. But, Claire” He said my name in that Highlander way that made it his own, “I dinna regret it because I get to do all these other things wi’ ye now. I can only wish she were here for it all, too.”

He was still kneeling before me, the weight of his body supported by my own being. It hit me like a tidal wave.

The grief.

The sense of loss.

The sense of confusion.

The agony.

He had once kneeled before me like this, when I had given him the news of what had happened to our first born. Yet now, the grief and the loss were there, but a distant memory that was wrapped in a sense of warmth. The confusion and the agony would always remain- all the things we knew we’d miss with her- yet we carried her within us, everywhere we went.

“I know.” It was the only thing I could say because like so many times before, when it came to matters of my soul, I never knew what to say.

I titled his head up to mine and reached for the hem of his shirt. Our lovemaking was always more than just our bodies becoming one, it was a conversation between our souls for the things we didn’t know how to say to each other. Suddenly, we were just as we’d always been- a Scot and a Sassenach- a home found not within four walls but with a person.

As he stood and pushed my shift down my shoulders, I knew in that moment with all the heartache, turmoil, and pain- I’d do it again, just for one more night with him.

#Outlander #Jamie x Claire #Jamie Fraser #Claire Beauchamp #Outlander Fanfic #myfic!#OL: Missing Moment #OL: 5x04 #Craigh na queue

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dopescotlandwarrior · 4 years ago

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Beauty Chooses II-Chapter 15

A special thanks to @statell for all your help and wisdom

Previous chapters at AO3

Chapter 15 The Bear

My thigh muscles were burning walking up the steep hill to fetch Faith. She is helping a neighbor make apple and peach pies today and it was time for her lessons. Everywhere I look the fields are ripe and nearly ready to harvest. The summer has gifted us with huge crops from perfect rain and sun. The Ridge will do quite well this year.

I have had a low-boil of excitement for the past two months due to no period. What I wouldn’t give for a nearby Walgreens that sells early pregnancy tests. I will just have to wait and pray I was given another chance.

Once we socialized for a while and I admired the beautiful pies, Faith thanked the neighbor and we left for the trek home. I watched her lesson and was very impressed with the math she was doing wondering what a young lady in the 18th century would do with such a gift. It was making my head hurt to think about it, so I excused myself to lay down for a bit. Fighting fatigue is my greatest challenge lately and I find it best to give in and close my eyes each afternoon.

When the bed shook under me I knew Jamie had come to check on me. His warm hands slid down my arms and I yawned and turned toward him smiling.

“Are ye well, Sassenach?”

“Yes.”

“Ye dinna nap in the day usually, until recently. I canna wait any longer lass. Are ye with child?”

“Yes, I believe I am.”

He exhaled audibly and pulled me to him. He touched me like I might shatter with the slightest pressure and I smiled at him.

“I won’t break sweetheart. Perhaps I can show you just how strong I am?”

I reached for his breeks only to have him capture my hands and kiss them. “Another time my love. We are bringin in Floyd’s fields today and they’re waitin on me.”

He kissed my forehead and jumped from our bed. I knew he would be gone until after sunset and I sighed deeply before getting up myself. I found Faith helping Misses Crook shuck corn cobs in the kitchen and kissed her cheeks until she giggled. Glavia still did lessons with Faith every day but was quick to join the man who was courting her in the afternoon. Several times per week Daniel would come for her and they would walk and talk.

I watched them at social gatherings and saw true interest in Daniel. He watched her, always, when she was away from him and his face lit up when she returned. Glavia was sold into servitude by her parents at a young age, but her sharp intellect allowed her to self learn mathematics, literature, history, and advanced writing. Her hunger for knowledge always impressed me but she was in need of a different kind of lesson. There was no one to look after her adult education pertaining to love, courtship, marriage, and sex. It fell to me as I oversaw this beautiful girl.

“Glavia, would you come to my room, please? I want to have a talk with you.”

We sat cross-legged on my bed which seemed to relax her. We talked about Daniel and how the courtship was going. I could see she was in love by the rosy blush that spread across her face and the whimsical look in her eyes.

“Has he kissed you yet?”

“No mistress!”

“Well, it is quite normal at this stage of courtship to be kissed. Have you told him not to?”

“No, he has not asked me.”

“Do you want him to kiss you?”

“I do!”

“Next time you two are alone, like when he walks you home, if he stops and looks into your eyes you must stay focused on his eyes, do not look down at your feet. That tells a man not to kiss you.”

I could see Glavia’s mind working because she wanted to be kissed and would follow my instructions to the letter.

“He can put his arm around your waist when he kisses you but that is all. If his hands are wandering all over your body, you must break the kiss and run home. He is not an honorable man if he does such a thing. If he courts only you and has not asked for your hand in marriage after six months you must move on and find another suitor. Hard as that may be.”

Glavia stared at me through my dissertation and I knew my warnings were burned into her brain. I hugged her before walking downstairs. Her deer-in-the-headlight look tugged at my heart and I was glad I had not gone any further with her lesson today.

Later when I kissed Faith goodnight she asked for Jamie. She was learning one Gaelic word per night and she had not gotten her word yet. I assured her I would send him up the minute he came home. She is such a sweet little girl. I could not imagine speaking to her about kissing men and letting them hold her waist. I would surely poison them before they ever got near her. I giggled down the stairs at the thoughts I was having.

Faith practiced and used the Gaelic words she was learning every day and she would giggle, or gasp, at Jamie when he spoke Gaelic, reminding us both she could sometimes understand him. She was learning, and waited on her father’s instruction every night. It was not usual for a father to spend dedicated time with a daughter. His job was to save for her dowry and see her married as well as possible. I was immensely proud of Jamie for wanting his daughter to learn all she could from him. They had a special bond because of it. ********************** To my eternal happiness, a period never came for nine months. The birth of this child was not as easy as Faith, but like the first time, Jamie was in the bed with me, coaching and encouraging, no matter how many times the attending ladies asked him to leave. Brian James Alexander Fraser was born on March 19th 1753. He has dark curly hair, piercing blue eyes, and a healthy set of lungs. When the baby cried in the night, I would change his diaper and plug him into a nipple, I slept while he nursed. A couple of hours later he would fuss again and I would turn over and give him the other side. He was an easy baby with an abundance of people to answer his every grunt and cry.

Jamie built a bassinet outside that was strung between two trees so the baby could rest and coo outside while I hung laundry. He was just fed and sleeping quietly so I ran into the house for more laundry. I threw a few pieces into the washtub and felt the hair on my arms stand up at the low growling coming from the yard. When I raised my eyes I almost fainted.

A large brown bear ambled around, sniffing the trees, looking for food. He got closer and closer to the baby and I thought I would have a heart attack. I ran off the porch and picked up large rocks to throw but he was too far away. He kept coming so I ran into the house and grabbed the rifle loading it on the porch while the bear got closer. I would have to shoot across the baby to hit the bear. Hopefully, I could make him run away, grab Brian, and run to the safety of the house.

The beast was acting aggressively and stood on his hind legs, smacking his lips together. An invitation to fight. I raised the rifle to my shoulder, aiming right for his head. If I missed, or just grazed him, he would charge me, and Brian was between us in the bassinet. I took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and pulled the trigger. The rifle shot was loud and echoed into the canyon and back again. I hit the bear in his face and he roared, charging at me. I loaded the rifle again with shaking hands, pulled it to my shoulder and shot his face again. He veered off to the side screaming in pain. I ran to Brian, scooping him up before running to the front door.

Misses Crook was white-faced when she ran to me and looked me over. Not minutes later, Jamie came charging through the front followed by Murtagh. I was sobbing and Jamie held us while I told him what happened. When he knew we were alright they headed back out in pursuit of the injured bear.

Brian eventually calmed down and Faith pressed into me for the better part of the afternoon. When Glavia took Brian to the nursery I turned my attention to Faith who was very pale. I hugged her to me and told her not to worry. First bear on the ridge in almost eight years, there wasn’t likely to be another.

Misses Crook called us to eat but I wasn’t hungry. The sun was going down and Jamie wasn’t back yet. The bear must be leading them on a good chase into the forest and when it was so dark to be completely black the bear would turn around and eat them. I shook my head hard to rid the image in my mind and went back to the window.

Some of the men built a large bonfire to guide them back if they were lost, by the light of the flames or by smell. Once Faith was in her bed with Glavia to read to her I went outside to speak with the neighbors. As I approached a cheer went up as Jamie and Murtagh emerged from the trees. They were both bloody and my heart fell as I ran to them.

“Thank ye for the fire, yer good friends to stand out here in the cool night. The bear is still alive, for now anyway, we will gather at first light and try again.”

Someone asked why they were bloody if they had wounds to mend. I was already looking them both over and could see no wounds or punctures from long teeth. I continued to look.

“It isna our blood, Sassenach, I’m not hurt, dinna fash. After sunset, the bear came back and attacked from behind. He grabbed both of us and I shoved my rifle into his mouth and let him chew on the barrel while we got to our feet. He took it, so I’ll be needin to borrow a rifle in the morning.” Jamie pointed at Murtagh, “if the same amount of blood is on me, the bear will bleed out by morning. We can hope.”

Jamie didn’t want to use up all the stored water in the house so he and Murtagh bravely turned toward the stream. I knew it would be intensely uncomfortable in the chilly night air. I grabbed two blankets and followed them.

“Thank ye Sassenach, but yer too far from the house now to walk back alone.”

I used my torch to find them in the water and handed each of them a chunk of soap and inspected their shirts before turning my back. I held the blankets out and felt one pull off my arm, and then the other. Thinking they were both covered by their blanket I turned around to take their clothes and poor Murtagh was hopping in place, trying to free his foot from his trousers. I whipped around again and squeezed my eyes shut as if that would erase the image from my mind.

We all pushed toward home, me, and two half-frozen Highlanders, and it was all I could do to keep my hysterical laughter from erupting. I left them at the fire to warm up and raced to my room where I buried my face in a pillow and let it rip. Bare butt cheeks were only half of it. In the shadow of my torch, I could clearly see Murtagh’s penis bouncing up and down when he hopped. I dared not go back downstairs and wondered if I could ever see Murtagh from behind without laughing. Thank goodness he was unaware.

Misses Crook placed hot bowls of stew in front of the men and kept them full until they both pushed away from the table. Jamie staggered into our room and collapsed on the bed. He smelled delicious and his naked body was filling my mind with things not so funny. I ran my hand over his gorgeous butt and received a loud snore for my efforts. I tried several times to wake him and if he hadn’t been snoring, I might think him dead. I gave up and pulled his lifeless arm over me, that was enough to fall asleep.

I was up in time to see the large gathering of men outside. Many had a rifle, some had a pitchfork. Jamie split them into two groups and taught them a strange whistle to be used when someone found the bear or its blood trail. Many wives ran out to fill their husband's pockets with dried meat and fruit only to have Jamie explain it would bring bears in from every direction and the gifts were pulled out of pockets instantly.

These were brave men who hung on Jamie’s every word. Murtagh went with one group, Jamie with the other, and they disappeared into the trees. I hugged the women and told them not to worry. I suggested we all look for herbs and mushrooms today. The women looked into the trees and shook their heads before scattering to their houses.

Glavia pulled the nursery window open a few inches and I could hear Brian making quite a fuss. Nice hint Glavia, I’m coming.

I was deep into the front yard when I heard him and walked quickly toward the house. Before I reached the front door, I felt my milk let down and my breasts tingle sharply. I started running up the stairs and grabbed Brian to my breast as it flowed into the fabric of my shift. I sat back in the rocking chair panting from my constricting corset and smiled at Faith.

“Good morning, darling. Did you have pleasant dreams?”

Faith put her hand on my leg and looked at her feet. It was clear she was still traumatized from the bear incident and my heart broke.

“Faith, do not worry. Your father has lots of men with him today and they will all stay safe together.”

Faith spoke quickly and I could see she was unsettled. Her words were half Gaelic and half English, and I felt a giggling pride that she had been so devoted to her father’s language. Glavia confessed that Faith requested Gaelic when she spoke to tenants and they were only too happy to correct her pronunciation and teach her the words she lacked to answer them. She looked at me sharply for laughing but I felt my eyes well up with tears and she knew how proud I was of her.

“I have never been so proud of you little girl. Now, I have a new lesson to teach you. Courage.”

“No mama, I am too fearful. I will never be unafraid, as you are, and I canna make myself. I’ve tried.”

“Fearful.” I rolled the word off my tongue thinking of the best way to explain fear. “I am quite familiar with fear actually, it is something I live with every day. It’s either making me shake or hovering in my head ready to fill me with dread at the slightest provocation. I dare say Glavia feels fear often, do you not my dear?”

Glavia nodded her head vigorously.

“Courage simply means feeling the fear and doing the act anyway. Yes, that about sums it up.” I smiled at my explanation until I saw the confusion in Faith’s expression.

“Darling, do you remember when I hit the man with my parasol? I was hugely afraid at that moment, but I hit him anyway because it was the only thing I could do. Courage is like the cavalry riding in to save you, or someone you love, when danger is near.”

“Cavalry.” She tasted the word with a strange expression.

“Sorry, a bit too soon for that word. Courage is that bit in you that rises up in the face of danger and does whatever is necessary to save yourself or someone you care about. It has bigger muscles than your fear and will save you. Yes, that’s better.”

Brian burped loudly in my ear as his head rolled in his sleep. I put him in Glavia’s outstretched hands and turned to my sweet daughter.

“The time will come when you will feel tremendous fear and the way to safety will be clear in your mind. You will do what needs to be done because you know it’s the right thing to do. Each time you do it, will be easier.”

Faith wrapped her arms around my waist and seemed a bit more composed when she left with Glavia to get a snack before lessons. I stayed in the soothing rocking chair and thought about all the times courage pulled me through something scary. Waking up in Jamie’s wood the first time, sailing to France not knowing where I might wake up the next day, walking through the stones, and running to save my family when the redcoats were twenty feet from us. I shook my head to make it stop because my heart was banging in my ears. I dearly hoped Faith would not experience a fraction of that.

I wondered how long it takes to find an injured bear and decided to read on the front porch to be available in case other wives came for news of the hunt. I squinted against the sun making my eyes water and kept them closed until the sting went away. Sometime later, I moved my eyeballs side to side under my lids, aware of the passage of time. My face was in the shadow of the porch when I opened them so I must have fallen asleep some time ago. I felt my smile as I stretched and then froze seeing a large animal not five feet from me.

The bear was walking straight toward me and I couldn’t move. It was huge and dripping blood behind him. I wondered if Jamie was close by and prayed fervently that he was. He was closer now. When I saw his front feet on the steps to the porch the alarm bells were ringing in my ears, I was hyperventilating, but I still couldn’t move. I would have to run past the beast to reach the front door and I couldn’t make myself do it. As I debated my plan the front door swung open and Misses Crook jumped out, followed by Faith and Glavia. They had pots and wooded spoons to beat on them making such a noise it scared the bear and he ran back down the stairs. I jumped to my feet ushering the woman back into the house and slamming the door.

I dropped to my knees and held Faith closely while I panted for air.

“That, my darling, is the very definition of courage. Thank you, all of you, for saving me!”

We crowded close to the window to see the bear, but he was gone. We continued to look until it jumped in front of the window on its hind legs growling at the sight of us. We all screamed and clung to each other. The bear was growling with his horrible mouth wide open and I prayed he would not bang into the glass and get us. I looked around for the rifle before I remembered it was lost and pulled the women away from the window. I told them to run for the nearest neighbor while I distracted the bear. They refused and I implored Glavia to run Faith to safety and scowled at Misses Crook.

The bear was getting frustrated. He could see us but could not get us, so he started pounding on the glass. I screamed at Misses Crook to hide upstairs with the baby. He pounded louder and I have never been so scared. I watched the bear shoot sideways with human hands clutching the fur on his neck and a shiny dirk plunge deep into the neck squirting blood sideways. I could see Jamie on his back, as the bear thrashed the dirk was brought down into his neck again and again. I watched in horror at the huge quantity of blood that pooled on the patio boards and covered Jamie.

Like it was slow motion, he plunged the dirk into the neck and moved it side to side violently. I could tell the bear was losing his strength as it tried to stand up and roar one last time. The bear fell forward with Jamie rolling to the side and getting to his feet. Brave Jackson ran to Jamie with a rifle pointed at the beast’s head. They stood still while the blood pumped out of the animal. There was no more life in the bear so ropes were tied to its legs and he was dragged off the porch and away.

I could hear Brian screaming and raced upstairs to find Misses Crook pacing with a hysterical baby. I took him and dropped into the rocking chair, telling her the bear was quite dead. I rocked my sweet son and hummed to him while I offered a nipple. It took several minutes for him to stop crying and finally latch onto me. I smiled down at him and tried to keep my face calm. “I can be your hero baby I can kiss away the pain I will stand by you forever You can take my breath away”

“I’ve ne’er heard that song mistress.”

My head snapped up, forgetting Misses Crook was still in the room. “It’s Enrique Iglesias, one of my favorites.” She blinked at me like she had never been to my century.

“Could you find Glavia and Faith and bring them home?”

“Aye.”

I watched Brian sleep in my arms. I knew there was chaos happening outside, but for now, it was just me and Brain and all was right in the world. When I had indulged myself enough, I put the baby in his cradle and went downstairs to wait for the women. I thought about Glavia and how sparkling happy she had been lately. My happiness for her ground to a halt and I counted on my fingers how many months it had been since Daniel first came to call on her. I was quite upset I had not watched more closely because by my count it had been well over a year. What could Daniel be waiting for I wondered?

“Glavia, may I speak to you please, before the lesson? How is it going with your suitor, Daniel?”

Her smile illuminated her face for a moment but was quickly replaced with concern. She looked at me strangely, almost like fear.

“It has been over a year Glavia. Has he talked about marriage, has he asked you?”

“No mistress, not yet.”

“He calls on you several times a week, what do you two talk about?”

When she looked at the floor, she tried to answer which was little more than stammering. I was flooded with fear for her suddenly and my question just flew out of my mouth.

“Glavia, has he asked for more than a kiss?”

She shook her head no and started to cry. Now I was really confused. I pulled her to the sofa and calmed myself before asking what her tears were for. It took a bit of time before she answered me.

“He has not asked to kiss me yet. I have done what you said, I look at him when we are together and he gets quiet but he has not asked.”

“Oh dear. Does he act fond of you?”

“Yes, he writes beautiful poetry for me, about love and devotion. He reads it to me out loud and says he wrote the poem for me.”

Her eyes became misty and full of love, but I had not a clue how to guide her. Well, I know what I would have done in this situation.

“Glavia, your courtship has gone on too long. I’m afraid people will talk about you in an unkind way that may interfere with other men courting you, if it comes to that. So, it’s time to say goodbye to Daniel.” When she protested, loudly, I decided it couldn’t hurt to tell her what I would do. “There is one more thing you can try. If he truly loves you, this will work. You kiss him.”

“What?! I couldn’t do such a thing!”

“You can, and you will, because you don’t want to say goodbye. It’s not so bad. Next time you two are alone where no one can see you, just hold his face and kiss him.”

“Hold his face?”

“Softly, like this, and look directly into his eyes, and then..”

“What’s this then?”

I heard Jamie’s voice from the front door and snapped my head up to see him wrapped in a blanket again after washing in the river.

“Do you mind if I use you to demonstrate how to kiss?”

He perked up, “I dinna mind mo chridhe.” He walked to me smiling and looking at my lips. I could tell he meant to lead so I put my hand up to stop him.

“I want you to act like you are not expecting a kiss.”

When he started asking questions, I tenderly held his face and softly kissed him. I felt his arms reach for me after that and suggested he dress before there is any more kissing. He looked cheated but went up the stairs to our room. I turned to Glavia and smiled.

“See? It’s easy, well maybe not the first time because you will be nervous. Maybe you would like to try with Murtagh?”

She shook her head yes and I called the unsuspecting man over to us. “Murtagh, before you disappear to dress can we borrow you for a minute?”

He approached with his usual scowl and Glavia bravely stood up, held his face, and kissed him. And then he fainted dead away.

“Oh dear God, Murtagh… Murtagh, wake up.”

I slapped his cheek a bit and his eyes opened as he scooted back away from us. Glavia was apologizing and walking toward him so he got to his feet and ran to his room. Maybe I should have warned him.

“That was magnificent! Seriously, you did it just right and I’m sure Daniel will not react that way. How do feel about the kiss, can you do it with Daniel?”

“I feel fine about kissing and yes I can do it, this evening when we take our walk.”

With that, she turned to the stairs to start Faith’s lesson. I felt rather wicked for not warning Murtagh and all the talk of kissing was making me uncomfortable. I decided to help Jamie get dressed for his afternoon of chores and maybe a quick explanation of causing Murtagh to faint, the poor man.

I had to help Jamie off the floor he was laughing so hard at Murtagh’s reaction to being kissed. I admit I was almost losing it myself and didn’t know who was helping who up. I was quite sure Murtagh would not speak to me for quite some time, but it was worth it. Glavia seemed to have confidence enough to kiss her boyfriend and I was on pins and needles all evening, waiting for her to come home. It was unusually late when I finally heard the front door open. Jamie and the rest of the household were fast asleep already.

Glavia pressed her back against the door and sighed deeply. She looked weird but I couldn’t put my finger on why.

“How was your evening Glavia?”

She rolled her head to look at me and smiled like she was high. Uh oh. “Well, did you do it?”

She drifted to me like her feet were not touching the ground. When she got closer, I could see the area around her mouth was red and looked painful. Then it hit me, they kissed so much he scratched her delicate skin with his beard. I looked again and decided that was a lot of kissing. Glavia floated upstairs without a word and I prayed a proposal would be coming soon. I made a vow, then and there, to be more careful with the advice I gave.

I waited patiently for the next two weeks, hoping Daniel would speak to Jamie about asking for Glavia’s hand but it never happened. After each date, Glavia would float in with a red mouth and say goodnight. Clearly, I had to meddle in her affairs one more time. When Jamie and I were in bed I broached the subject.

“Jamie, darling, I think you need to speak with Daniel about his intentions for Glavia. It’s been over a year they have been seeing each other and I am worried about her reputation. Will you speak to him, to Daniel, please?”

“Do I order him to marry the lass, or ask why he hasna already?”

“Well, tell him a year of courtship is long enough so he must marry her or never see her again.”

I could feel Jamie thinking about that and he undoubtedly thought it harsh, but I was the one to protect her reputation, so I would keep asking him. A month later, Daniel asked Jamie after church if he might speak with him later in the afternoon. Jamie agreed and I almost fainted with relief. This better be what I think it is or I will throttle that boy myself.

There was great excitement on the Ridge today as we prepared for the harvest festival which usually lasted all night and into the next day. The men had been hunting all week and there was already a pig, three turkeys, and a deer roasting outside. Misses Crook and I made numerous trips to the big tables outside bringing plates of bannocks, fruit salad, and bread. The tables were filling up quickly as we went back to the house for more food. Glavia would not be lending a hand this afternoon. She was sitting on her bed waiting for Daniel’s visit to be over so she could pump Jamie for information.

I thought the door to Jamie’s study was closed for an awfully long time, feeling my relief when Daniel dashed for the front door. I was already dressed for the party and poked my head in to look at my husband. He sat quietly, contemplating his universe and whatever was happening in it. I raised my eyebrows when he looked up and he beckoned me in to sit with him.

“Daniel has asked for Glavia’s hand and I gave my permission, now I feel afraid for the lass because her husband wilna make her happy.” He stood up and walked toward me lifting me and holding me close by my waist. “Tell me Sassenach, are all women like ye? Because Daniel wilna do what I do to ye.”

His eyes were burning with the question because Daniel presented himself as chaste and held that virtue in the highest regard. He knew how to create offspring but saw sex at other times sinful.

“If Glavia is like ye she will have a lonely life.” He pushed the hair behind my ear and looked me in the eye while he ran his fingers down my chest and over my nipple. “I fear he is pious and will not stimulate her interest in the world.”

“Jamie. She is in love and there is no telling her otherwise. Do not take on the burden of her happiness. It is up to Glavia to seek her marital bliss and I have faith in her.”

We were temporarily sidetracked by kissing and celebrating our mutual love, physical and spiritual. The house was filling with the smell of roasting meat and we could hear music and clapping outside. I pulled Jamie to the door and he seemed to shake off his concern and smile in anticipation of the party ahead. Later I saw Daniel steer Glavia away from the party and they disappeared. I sighed deeply hoping I was right about their union because it would soon be too late to undo this.

I bundled Brian up in his blankets and got back to the party in time to see Jamie dancing with his daughter as the crowd clapped. She was in full hero-worship as she watched his feet and copied him to the beat of the music. My eyes stung watching them. She seemed so grown up and was so loved by her father.

Later, I steered Faith toward home and helped her into bed suddenly aware of her need for a Gaelic word from Jamie. She answered me in a string of Gaelic and then translated, “he gave me two words last night.” I kissed her cheeks a dozen times and pulled the quilt up to her chin before turning down the lamp.

“You are my angel, goodnight.”

I put a sleeping Brian into his cradle and went downstairs to help Misses Crook with the catastrophic mess in the kitchen. I could see she was dead on her feet and ordered her to bed. I was still wide awake, waiting for Glavia to come home and tell me her good news.

She came through the door a changed woman, brimming with love, and seeing images of her wedding in her mind. I hugged her to me, so happy she had won her love and determined to meddle when the time was right so she would understand seduction and physical love.

Once Glavia was upstairs with the children I rejoined the party and a drunk Scot assaulted me pulling me to dance with him. I laughed until I lost step with the music, panting from my corset. Jamie whisked me away from the smoke of the fire and by the time I could breathe my back was against a tree and said Scot was chasing my mouth. He pressed into me asking forgiveness and kissed me deeply. I tried to see behind him to verify we were out of sight when my skirts came up to my waist and he pulled me up. My legs went around him and I lowered my head to kiss him as his cock slowly filled me. Christ, what a feeling it was when he first pushed into me. I leaned back against the tree and watched his arousal take off and his pace quicken. He held my head down on his lips and when I pushed away to breathe, he pulled my jacket open and exposed my breasts. That did it. I was in the race to finish with him and almost lost consciousness from my damn corset. My orgasm gripped him hard enough to make him grunt and he followed me into the erotic wind. I felt his kisses on my neck when I opened my eyes. He set me down on my feet and he hugged me closely before we giggled about our adventure.

Jamie was walking back to the house with me when several men were calling him to join in the games. I smiled and pushed him toward the party, wanting him to enjoy this night of fun that came only once a year. I banked the fire and turned the lamps down before heading upstairs reaching behind me to grab one of my laces and failing. I peeked into the nursery and Brian and Faith were sound asleep. Glavia whispered to me and I almost shot out of my skin. I pulled her to my room and closed the door. She helped me out of my corset and into a robe so we could talk.

She described the way Daniel proposed to her and thought it the most romantic speech ever said. I found it devoid of emotion and pious, suddenly sharing Jamie’s concern for her happiness. We would have to see how long dear Daniel can resist a beautiful, young, wife who is schooled in seduction. I would make sure Glavia knew what to do, even if it meant Murtagh fainting again, or worse. On second thought, maybe we should leave Murtagh out of this. What I intended to teach her wasn’t as innocent as a kiss.

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izzygyrl · 6 years ago

Text

A Mr. Philip Hamilton {Fem!Child!Reader x Boy!Philip Hamilton}

I saw Hamilton over the New Year and LOVED IT! I will now be writing for Hamilton the show as a one shot option! Here’s my first of them! This might turn into a multi-part one shot series! Hope you enjoy and feedback is always welcome!

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Words: 2,131

Imagine: 5 year old reader meets 7 year old Philip Hamilton as her father has a meeting with Mr. Alexander Hamilton and President Washington

Contains: Cute, Fluffy, Children.

Time Period: Hamiltime (1789)

Translations:

(Y/N)=Your Name

(L/N)=Last Name

~~~~~

“Shhhh (Y/N), darling, you need to stay quiet and try to stay still. Daddy’s almost done.” Your mother told you, as she held your five year old squirming body in her lap, and you watched from down the hall as your father and two other men were having a meeting. You had been sitting here for some time now and you were quite done with waiting for your father. That, and being five years old and having to sit still and stay quiet for a long time wasn’t your cup of tea.

It was also the fact that at that particular moment you were craving your father’s attentions. You were going through the clingy phase and it was your father who you had chosen to focus your attentions on. You were your father’s daughter, and he treated you like a princess. In your five year old brain, it was almost as if he were ignoring you right now!

Your mother had told you that ‘Daddy needed to meet with the President’. And that the President was the man who was in charge of the colonies. And that it was very important for Daddy to see him.

But that didn’t mean anything to you.

You then watched as the three of them suddenly disappeared from your sight. This quickly caused you to panic. You slipped from your mother's grasp, running as fast as you could down the hall, causing her to jump up, but with her layers of skirts she was no match for you, as you took off and ran down the enormously long hall.

After what seemed like a long time you reached the spot where your father and the men had disappeared, and you were puzzled to find they were nowhere in sight. Where had they gone?!

“(Y/N) (L/N) get back here right now young lady!” Your mother hissed out as she neared your spot still barreling towards you. Ignoring her, you ran off towards the closest door. It was ajar, and you peeked inside, and you spotted your father and the men. Overfilled with relief and joy that you had found your sire, you pushed the door open and ran into the room, surprising the three men. “DADDY!” You cried out hobbling towards him on your chubby baby legs your little dress, making a swishing sound as you did so.

“(Y/N)!” Your father said, shock in his tone. You ran to him, not seeing the embarrassment in his gaze as he glanced apologetically at the two men, both whom were trying not to chuckle. Your father scooped you up into his arms and turned back to the two men. “My apologies Mr. President, Secretary Hamilton--,” Your father began to stutter out.

“It’s quite alright my good sir.” One of the men said. He was tall and had a very fancy suit on, that had shoulder tassels, that moved when he did. You were suddenly enamored with one of his shiny buttons at his collar, and began staring at it.

The man seemed to notice, for he chuckled and bent his head down to meet your eyes. “Who is this, that I have the pleasure of meeting today?” He said, and your eyes met his and you suddenly got shy and put your head into the crook of your fathers neck, while still peeking out at the man.

“Mr. President, Secretary Hamilton, this is my daughter, (Y/N).” He said and bounced you in his arms once causing you to gaze at the two men.

“Well it’s a pleasure to meet you Miss (L/N).” The man with the fancy shoulder tassels said. “I’m am President Washington. This is my friend Secretary Hamilton.” The other man--Secretary Hamilton, had the same coat as President Washington, however he didn’t have the shoulder tassels to your disappointment. You liked how they looked. However, he had a kind smile as he gazed at you with deep chocolate eyes. You liked him immediately.

“Can you say hello to the President and Secretary Hamilton (Y/N)?” Your father asked.

“Hello Mr. President. Hello Mr. Hamilton.” You said in a soft voice causing President Washington to smile, and Secretary Hamilton to give you a nod in greeting.

“(Y/N)! There you are!” You were turned away from the men as your mother's voice reached your ears. You immediately hid your head back into your fathers neck, peeking out towards the door where the voice had come from. She was in the doorway, her red dress taking up most of the doorway, her bonnet loose from her head. “I apologize gentleman--.” She began to say, but the President held up a hand.

“It’s alright Mrs. (L/N). You have quite a charming little daughter.” He said with a smile.

“She’s been going through a phase where she’s been clinging to her father.” Your mother told the men as she entered the room, to which they chuckled. You clung tightly to your father and he rubbed your back with a large hand.

“Quiet natural for a babe to want her father.” The president commented.

“I think I should have my family go home in the carriage. This could be a while.” Your father said to the men.

“Actually-.” Mr. Hamilton said, a gleam in his eye. “I have an idea.” He said.

You watched as he went to the door and called an attendant. He whispered something to them before walking back to you. He then met your eyes. “Miss (L/N), we need to talk to your daddy for a little longer. You see the President need his help.” He told you. Your eyes widened and you turned to President Washington. “You need my daddy’s help? But you’re the president!” You said to President Washington who smiled but said nothing, as Secretary Hamilton continued.

“Yes but your daddy has something we need. Now how about while we talk you can make a new friend?” He asked giving you a warm smile. You lifted your head from your fathers shoulder and gazed at Mr. Hamilton. You thought about it and then nodded to which Mr. Hamilton replied. “Great!”

Just then, there was a knock. Once again, everyone turned and there, in the doorway was a beautiful young woman, in a beautiful, baby blue dress with a young boy by her side. He had wild curly black hair, and an olive complexion. Your father set you down and you quickly hid behind his coat tails and legs.

“Ah just in time.” Mr. Hamilton said.

“Eliza, I’d like you to meet, Mr. (L/N), his wife and their daughter.” Mr. Hamilton said to the woman who nodded to your parents and gave you a kind smile. You peeked out through your father's coat tails at her curiously.

“Miss (L/N) may I?” And you looked up to see Mr. Hamilton, reaching his hand out. You hesitated glancing up at your father who nodded in approval, before taking the man's large hand that dwarfed your small one.

“Miss (Y/N), I’d like you to meet my son Philip Hamilton.” He said as he led you to the young boy. As you got closer you saw he looked a lot like his father. They had the same facial structure and eyes. However his hair was much curlier than his father's. He also had a ton of freckles that, for some reason you thought were really pretty. He wore a blue breasted coat over a white shirt with little white breeks, white stockings and black shoes.

“Phillip this is Miss (Y/N). I was hoping you could show her, and her mother the gardens while the president and I talked to her father. Can you do that for me son?” He asked. Phillip looked at his father and nodded, before he turned his gaze to you and gave a little bow. He then offered his arm. You looked at your mother, and saw she was beaming. She nodded and you curtsied before you took his arm.

Together, you then walked out with the boy.

As you left the room, you peeked over your shoulder to see your father, President Washington and Secretary Hamilton along with your mother and Mrs. Hamilton, gazing at you and Philip with smiles and bemused looks.

As you walked down the hall with Philip, he seemed to not say anything at first. You saw your mother and his, were following a few feet behind introducing themselves to each other before diving into a conversation.

You faced forward and peeked at Philip. He was half an inch taller, if not an inch taller than you. Later that evening you would find out from your mother, that Philip was actually two years older than you at seven years old.

As Philip led you to the gardens, you finally broke the silence between the two of you. “So do you talk?” You asked. Philip gave you a puzzled look, before speaking up. “Of course I can talk!” He said hotly. You shrugged. “Oh.”

“Do you live nearby?” He asked you. You nodded. “I live in Manhattan near the Hudson a few blocks from the college.” You told him. He nodded but didn’t say anything else.

You turned a corner, and finally reached the gardens. Philips mother opened the doors and you and Philip slipped through. Philip showed you the fruit trees, and the beautiful flowers that lined the gardens walls. You were taken by the amazing fragrances, and colors you saw. It was very different from Manhattans city streets. Philips mothers and yours sat in some lawn chairs nearby, watching you both while chatting.

Within five minutes both you and Philip were sitting on the the lawn of the garden, playing some game that only he and you understood. He didn’t talk much but he was really nice. He taught you how to count to ten in French while you taught him to count in Latin.

You were so caught up in your antics with the young Hamilton, that you didn’t see your father, Philip’s father and President Washington slip into the garden after about 20 minutes. The three men stepped up to the two mothers and all five adults watched quietly as you tried to teach Philip the colors in Latin.

“He’s been teaching her French and she’s been teaching him Latin.” Mrs. Hamilton gushed to the three men, who looked at the pair of you with affectionate gazes.

“Are you ready to leave my dear?” Your father asked your mother. Your mother gazed at Mrs. Hamilton and then to you and Philip. “Yes I believe so. Thank you Mrs. Hamilton for your company.” Your mother said rising from her seat, Mrs. Hamilton following suit before both women curtsied to each other. “It was my pleasure. It seems my son has taken a shine to your dear little daughter.” Mrs. Hamilton said with chuckle, and the adults saw Phillip calming you down, as he helped a ladybug out of your hair.

“So it seems.” Your father said, sharing a look with Secretary Hamilton, who was looking at his son proudly. “I’ll grab (Y/N).” He said. “I’ll accompany you.” Mr. Hamilton said.

It was Philip who noticed the pair of fathers first. “Hello Father.” He said. You turned around to see your father and Mr. Hamilton standing over you. “Hello Philip.” Secretary Hamilton said. Both you and Philip stood up. “Did you have fun my sweet?” Your father asked you. You nodded. “I did father. Philip taught me some French and I taught him some Latin!” You said proudly. Both fathers shared a look before your father squatted down to your level. “I’m glad you had fun, but it’s time to go.” Your father told you. He was surprised to see a look of disappointment appear on your face. You nodded. “Okay father.” You said. You then turned to Philip and gave him a little curtsy, Philip followed your lead and bowed to you. “Thank you for your time, Philip.” You said to the boy. He nodded. “It was my pleasure, Miss (Y/N).” He said.

You were then whisked away by your father. As you exited the garden you looked up at your father. “Can I come see Philip again?” You asked him. Your father glanced down at you, before sharing a look with your mother. He then broke out into a smile. “I will talk with the Hamilton's but I believe that could be arranged, my darling.” He said.

You couldn’t help but smile at the answer. You then looked at your mother. “I’m going to need to find new things to teach Philip in Latin.”

Your parents could only share a knowing smile as they saw their daughter had made her first friend.

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drunklander · 6 years ago

Text

Drunj!Der Yells About Outlander

Thoughts on Ep. 405

MURTAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH

The end.

Y’all I haven’t fangirled about an episode of Outlander this much since season fucking one. And can I just say, I fucking missed this feeling. I missed this feeling so fucking much. Comparing this episode to the ones with all of the book dialogue awkwardly crammed in makes me really hope they start throwing the book out the window more and more, and instead just do whatever they want in order to tell a good story.

AND I JUST FUCKING LOVE MURTAGH OK!

PETITION TO LET CLAIRE HAVE FRIENDS WHO DON’T MURDER PEOPLE/GET MURDERED!

Just the mutual respect between Claire and Adawehi gives me the warm fuzzies.

Adawehi: “She is here. No, not in your heart, woman. I mean actually here. Like physically here. Yes, I know you find it comforting to think your daughter is always with you in your heart, but I’m telling you, she can also literally be with you, like in your house.” Claire: “Yeah, it’s really too bad I had to leave her, but at least she’s here in my memories...” Adawehi: “You’re killing me, lady.”

JOKING ASIDE ADAWEHI DESERVED BETTER AND I LOVE HER AND MUELLER IS THE WORST.

Gerhard, not Robert.

I love the white sow with my whole heart.

LOOKIT THESE DOMESTIC FRASERS WORRYING ABOUT HATS AND JERKY.

I’m laughing at Jamie so hard for thinking that Scots are just going to jump at the chance for free land...that ties them to the English government. Like bro, some of the Scots in North Carolina actually give a shit about what the English did to Scotland. And don’t immediately get in bed with them, (especially when it’s common knowledge that they cheat and steal from people) and become the sort of people they fought against.

It’s like Jamie and Claire were like hmmm, our only two options are to move to Boston where we’ll be right in the middle of the revolution or become the colonizing/occupying force we fought against in Scotland. And the rest of the Scots are like nah, bro.

OH HEY JAMIE, WHY YA TAKIN’ THAT CANDLESTICK?! TO GET A RING MADE PERHAPS??? *fangirling intensifies*

“I love bacon.” Same, Young Ian. So much same.

Lady Boner for Frontier!Beauchamp.

Oooh, we’re doing Jamie’s visions are we?

I really do appreciate them doing damage control after last season including Jamie thinking of Bree this season. And I love how ever since Claire came back to Jamie, Bree is still a constant presence in her life. And she continues to live with the cost of her choice to return to Jamie.

Y’all Claire lost her parents. She left Uncle Lamb when she got married. She lost Frank woohoo! when she went through the stones. She lost Jamie after Culloden. And she lost Bree when she went back to Jamie. She’s never really had all of the people who are important to her with her all at the same time. AND IN A COUPLE OF EPISODES SHE WILL AND I CANNOT FUCKING WAIT! I SHIP CLAIRE AND HAPPINESS AND SHE WON’T FULLY HAVE THAT UNTIL HER WHOLE FAMILY IS TOGETHER AND GUYS I HAVE FEELINGS.

Nice hat, Roger MacSeedot.

Miss Baird: “I can see she broke your heart.” Me: *recaps the last couple episodes* Miss Baird: “Actually, she’s better off without you. You’re kind of the worst. Good day to you MacSeedot. I SAID GOOD DAY.

Just noticed that this pic that was tweeted about Wilmington is actually Woolam’s Creek. Lulz.

Ok is this lady flirting with Jamie only supposed to be setting up him telling Bree that he’s a married man? Or else, like, what’s the point? We know Jamie’s not going to cheat on Claire? If this is supposed to be like the Mme Jeanne fake out then hard pass, show.

“That’s a very impressive offer. But you see, the English fucked up our country. Our families. Our lives. And now they cheat and steal from us here, all the way across an ocean. Rent or no rent, I still have my principles.”

“Did six farmers just refuse the offer of land given without charge?” “There’s no sense in it. Except that it makes them obliged to the English and, you know, as Scots we sort of don’t like them very much. So really I have no clue why they’d turn me down.”

Yo, I fucking love this change, tbh. Jamie’s a dumbass, but I’ve thought that about show!Jamie for a minute now so... Bahahaha. Bro. Rock on, farmers.

“Savages! They steal our water for their horses!” Y’all Mueller is the literal worst. But him being fucking awful, doesn’t mean Jamie and Claire are off the hook for also being fucking colonizers.

But seriously. Gerhard. You are a fucking monster.

“They have no reason to set foot on MY land!” Fuck ALL the way off, bruh.

Claire’s like “Please! I know they’re the literal worst and you’re literally just watering your horses on your own damn land, but please change your behavior to accommodate a racist af colonizer!” Which like, good on her for trying to deescalate the situation, but putting it on the wronged party to change to accommodate the white aggressor still isn’t a good look.

“Water belongs to no one.” Y’all this show claims not to be political, but making this conflict about water is relevant as fuck to the present. (For those who don’t click through to what I link, that’s a profile of the Standing Rock water protectors.)

This episode is really doing a lot to try to frame the Frasers as “good” colonizers. (Look! They make friends with their Cherokee neighbors whose land they’ve stolen! They’re trying to learn the Cherokee language! They respect the knowledge of Adawehi! They know Cherokee customs!) And the Muellers as “bad” colonizers. (This is our land! They shouldn’t be here! Fuck what they’re actually doing, I think they’re cursing us and therefore must murder their witch!) But show, let’s be real. Just like the “benevolent slave owner” is bullshit, the “good” colonizer is also bullshit.

Gerhard Mueller is an unforgivable piece of shit, but that doesn’t mean the Frasers are in the right.

Rollo the body guard is adorable and I 100% want a blooper reel of just him fucking up and Balfe being like OMFG DOG.

Claire tiredly flopping onto the bed is A FUCKING MOOD.

Y’all the Leoch music as Claire does the homestead chores gives me so many feelings. It meant she was starting to feel at home in Jamie’s time and is now signifying her being at home in the place they built together AND I JUST WANT MY BABY TO BE HAPPY OK.

For real though, I fucking love the white sow.

White Sow/Clarence 2020

Claire nudging Rollo out of her food is relatable af. *side eyes my cat*

Claire’s “good morning, ladies!” to the goats is my fucking everything. Also, pretty sure one of the goats is named Persephone and the person who posted this just didn’t know how to spell that. High five for animal name twins! I should get my cat a goat friend...

Claire drinking and being like oh this is gross and then drinking more anyway is also A Mood.

“’Tis my land after all.” Jamie says it in relation to the English. Mueller says it in relation to the Cherokee. Again trying to show a difference between the two, but *looks directly into the camera.*

MURTAGH MOTHERFUCKING FITZGIBBONS FRASER Y’ALL

Lol, I love that in the closed captions, Murtagh’s lines are noted as “Smith” before he turns around. Like we don’t recognized that crotchety voice.

Y’ALL I AM SO FUCKING HAPPY THAT MURTAGH IS BACK.

Oh look, rando flirty woman is back. *hums Say No to This to self*

OMG THE LOOK ON MURTAGH’S FACE WHEN HE HEARS JAMIE’S VOICE IS LIKE THE SAME FACE THAT JAMIE MADE WHEN HE HEARD CLAIRE’S IN THE PRINT SHOP AND I AM SO FULL OF FEELINGS YOU GUYS

YES, HUG IT OUT, GUYS! *JOINS IN THE GROUP HUG FROM MY COUCH* I’M JUST SO HAPPY.

"I’m sorry. Citronella died. They got measles, but at least there were no mosquitoes.”

Gerhard Mueller is totally the sort of person who would shoot up a mosque or synagogue because of some bullshit, racist 4chan conspiracy theory. Entitled white men haven’t evolved at all in the last 200 years...

Yas, Claire, work that gun...

(gif source)

The way Jamie’s face lights up when Murtagh says he can do a bit of silversmithing though.

Y’ALL MURTAGH IS TOTALLY GONNA MAKE CLAIRE’S NEW RING AND THAT ANON I GOT TOTALLY CALLED IT AND I AM 1000% HERE FOR IT OMG YAAAS, SHOW, YAAAS.

Murtagh’s face when he thinks Jamie remarried is amazing. And Jamie sending Young Ian away when Murtagh asks if he married again is hilarious because like “Dude, please don’t blow up my spot about Laoghaire when I haven’t been able to fanboy with my godfather about my time traveling wife yet. And I need to fanboy about my time traveling wife with her literal #1 fan.”

*waits impatiently for Murtagh’s reaction to the Laoghaire marriage news*

For real, his reaction to that is going to be fucking aaaaaaaAAAHMAZINGGGG.

Y’ALL I WANT A CEBRF FANDOM WAR BETWEEN MURTAGH AND YOUNG IAN OVER WHO STANS CLAIRE MORE. “I regularly put my hands in other people’s body cavities for her!” “I’ve been stanning her for twice as long as you’ve been alive, laddie!”

THE CLAIRE ELIZABETH BEAUCHAMP FAN CLUB’S FOUNDING MEMBER IS BACK AND YOUNG IAN BETTER RECOGNIZE.

LOOK AT HIS FACE WHEN JAMIE SAYS THAT CLAIRE CAME BACK! AND HE FUCKING *KNOWS* WHAT THAT MEANS! HE FUCKING PRAYED FOR HER AND HER BABY FOR YEARS AND TO KNOW SHE’S SAFE AND BACK WITH JAMIE AND HIS SHIP REALLY IS ENDGAME AND I’M JUST SO FULL OF HAPPINESS.

Da!Jamie bragging about his kid is endearing afffffffff.

*again side eyes how she was treated in ep. 306*

Ok, but I love that Murtagh doesn’t just like up and change his whole life to rejoin Jamie. It’s been a long time. He has his life. He loves Jame and he loves Claire, but just like they had changed, so has Murtz.

“We’ve had trouble finding tenants.” “Yeah, no shit. Come, Jamie, let me school you.”

Murtagh in a kilt and bonnet while Jamie is in breeks and a tricorn. Murtagh rousing the Scots against the thievery of the English and Jamie trying to get them to become indebted to the English. Which one is truly keeping the spirit of Scotland alive in North Carolina?

I’d bet money that the piece of tartan Murtagh has pinned over his heart is the same piece he’s had with him since Ardsmuir.

Mueller can fuck all the way off with his “we deserve to live because we believe in God” crap.

It *is* their land you fucking piece of shit.

The scene with Mueller when he brings Claire Adawehi’s scalp got me so fucking heated because there are so many white men in this country today who share the same/very similar beliefs to him in regards to various minority groups or people they see as “Other.” Fuck each and every one of those men.

Claire’s funeral for Adawehi is very moving though.

#AdawehiDeservedBetter

You brought this on yourself, Herr Mueller. Good riddance.

But Frau Mueller, yet another woman who is the collateral damage of the shitty actions of men.

Rollo is the least intimidating guard dog ever.

HE REMEMBERS HER SONG AND IT’S LIKE THEIR LITTLE INSIDE JOKE AND HE DOES HIS LITTLE DANCE AND HER FACE AND HIS FACE AND GUYS I AM SO FULL OF FEELINGS AND I LOVE THE TWO OF THEM SO MUCH AND GUYS I AM SO EXCITED FOR MURTAGH TO BE AGGRESSIVELY #TEAMCLAIRE WHEN HE FINDS OUT ABOUT LAOGHAIRE AND FOR HIM TO MEET BREE AND EVEN FOR HIM TO MEET WILLIE AND GUYS THEY SAVED MURTAGH AND I LOVE MURTAGH AND YOU DID A GOOD THING, SHOW.

Ok the letter that Bree left for Roger makes him look even worse for going after her tbh. Like he wasn’t supposed to see it for a year and it was like clearly an “open if I’m dead” thing so like he knows she clearly is intending to come back. But instead of listening to her, he off and does what he thinks is right instead. Which means he’s learned *nothing* since the proposal. Fuck that guy.

Roger really is Frank. He wants a marriage like Frank and Claire had pre-stones. Where it's all about him and what he wants to do and the wife is just along to support him in that endeavor. *gestures at episode 101* Between reading the books again and watching this season, Roger really is the worst and I don't think the show will do anything that comes close to redeeming him since *gestures at how they wrote Jamie last season* so at this point I ship Bree with her damn self. She doesn't need a man to live her fullest life. Especially one like fucking Roger.

Bree is too good for Roger and this is the hill I will die on.

But y’all! Bree’s gonna get to be with her mom again! And meet Jamie! And look hot af in period clothes! AND MEET MURTAGH!

*focuses aggressively on that instead of Rape and Rogergate*

GUYS MURTAGH IS BACK!!!!!!!!!

#*#outlander starz #outlander 4x05 #drunj!der yells about outlander

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alexgrin · 12 hours ago

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My little girl 🥰 - Hope

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renee-writer · 11 months ago

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Single Chapter 14

AO3

She comes slowly back to herself. Immediately, she reaches for Brianna. Thank God! The child is with her, her wide eyes on her mama, to startled to even cry.

“Mama’s here Bree. Don’t worry.” She takes the cotton out of her ears.

They sit until her legs will support her. Pushing herself up, Bree still tied to her, she looks around. That they are someplace different then they were is immediately obvious.

It is in the air. The breeze is blowing from a different direction and has a different smell.

“Mama bye-bye?” Brianna asks.

“Yes, my love. We are bye-bye.”

She unties her, leaving the tartan rope behind as an offering. Then they start down the hill.

The road is blessedly unpaved. In stark contrast to the last time she went through, it is just a dirt path. Holding tight to Brianna’s hand, they start down it.

“Where go mama?”

“To find a horse. Would you like to go on a horse ride?”

As expected she would, jumping up and down in excitement. “Horsie!”

As part of the preparation for this journey, they had both gone horse back riding. Claire had to make sure the Brianna wasn’t scared of them and could remain seated on one. She proved to be a capable horse lass.

She thought about getting a wagon but wants to save all she can to help her family. A horse will do.

She can find one in Inverness. It is a few kilometers away. She will need to carry Bree part way. To get to Lallybroch, to Jamie, it is well worth it.

A few hours later, they enter Inverness. If she had any doubts about when they are, they vanish at the odor of the town.

Unwashed men and women, horse flesh, sewage, none can be imagined as anything but real. Brianna, in her arms, buries her face in her breasts.

“Eww mama.”

“You will grow used to it. Let’s find a horse.”

She needs a gentle but strong beast. One that is used to children.

“Ma’am, how many I help you?” The young man wears breeks and a stained shirt. No kilt. A reminder that their side lost.

“I am looking for a horse for myself and my daughter.”

She forgot she was English. In her heart and in legal fact, she is Scottish. Her accent though…

“Sorry, I don’t sell to Sassanachs.”

He turns away.

“I am Claire Fraser of Lallybroch. My husband and her father is Jamie Fraser.” He slowly turns back and studies Brianna. After a moment, he nods.

“Many pardons ma’am. I am sure we can find a fine horse for you and the lassie.”

They are seated on a fine filly named Glory. She is just what they needed, gentle and strong.

“She will see you safely to Lallybroch. You will forgive my misunderstanding?” the seller asks.

“Of course. I know my accent is unfortunate.”

He tips his hat to them before they head of. Brianna sits snug against her mama. Her wide eyes take in all the strange sights. Content to be with Claire, knowing she is safe, she watches as they pass through a greener land than she has ever seen.

Claire is anxious. Now that they a truly on their way, she is nervous. Will she find him the same? Will she find him at all? What if he made the arrangements and than passed from a injury he sustained in battle? Alive but changed ? Alive but married again?

“Stop it!” she orders herself, “you are taking Brianna home to Lallybroch. Whatever you find there doesn’t matter. We will be home.”

Brianna squeals at seeing the familiar arch. “Home mama!”

“Yes, we are.”

They ride under it.

#my writing #outlander fanfic #single #chapter 14 #jamie and claire #cannon divergence #outlander fandom

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lady-o-ren · 6 years ago

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The Witch and The Red Man

Chapter One / Chapter Two

Chapter Three

It felt like a lifetime ago back when Jamie was a lad, where his only problems were waking early in the morning before the streaks of sun blazed the sky with languid blues and pinks. To milk the cows fit to burst and feed the chickens ready to feast, then off to the fields to plow for harvest, only to get lost in the clouds or a dip in the chilly brook till he was as pruned as a wean. And always, ever always, arguing with his sister Jenny, over every aspect of each other's being down to the loudness of their breathing. Lord, how he missed her so.

Had she grown past his hip now? Jenny would twist his bawls like the wee savage she was for wondering so.

Did she ever marry, Ian? So obvious were they in stolen glances, a graze of wrist...

Maybe children of her own just as small as she.

Jamie could still remember his families faces, all beaming with pride and a love always felt yet seemingly tripled in those final moments at home. His father and sister a pair of dark haired silkies and his mother a kindred flame of locks, all held a sheen in their eyes that stung at Jamie's own. He was leaving them to sail to Gaul to be an educated man in his cousin Jared's keeping, like Jenny had before him.

But there was little those images of loving warmth could do to keep Jamie sane on the the tortuous tides of sea, where every swell of wave brought forth the suffocating stench of fishy brine and filth of sailor that twisted his wame to constriction and burned his throat with bile. That's when Jamie's godfather Murtagh (sent to accompany his travels and oversee his pension for foolery with a hard twist of an ear or whip of a belt at his head), would sing a tune to ease his sickness.

Will you search through the lonely earth for me

Climb through the briar and bramble

I'm with the ghosts of the men who can never sing again

Murtagh would take his coarsely calloused hand and gently stroke Jamie's copper hair soaked in sweat and wipe the vomit that had dribbled to his chin barely stubbled in reddish gold. Jamie had never known the man to have such a tenderness of touch or so sweet a voice.

Did Murtagh forgive him from his perch high above with a spirit at peace with the Lord? Or was he beside him in the here and now?

Perhaps, he was humming that same old tune.

Just three months living abroad as a man walking amongst humanity, Jamie held a heart filled in triumph from a duel over a woman whose affections he had won. Again and again, Jamie had been rewarded by his Annalise, so perfectly beautiful and petite with a charm of wit that spoke to his own unlike any lass of home.

Jamie still thought of her on forsaken, wretched nights and days where he could smell Annalise's perfume of roses that coated her silken skin, of which she was never shy to show or press Jamie's touch to wherever he dared. To please, tease and kiss that had Jamie longing achingly between his thighs and desperately - shamefully at his own hands.

A temptation Annalise was that Jamie willingly chose to throw himself to. And he did just so that day forever scarred to his soul.

Jamie was on his way to see Annalise for a late night rendezvous where her father was away and mother seeking oblivion with a handkerchief dripping in laudanum clutched to her breast. Just Jamie and Annalise who cared little for layers and layers of troublesome cloth.

On his way out the front gate of Jared's apartment, Jamie saw a figure at the corner of the street that very well could have been the shade of a ghostly haunt if not for the spark of light and fumes of smoke that followed, indicating the breath of the living. Jamie being a man of manners no matter the hour tipped his head to the stranger with a grin to bid him well and off the blush stained lad went strolling down the street.

But not for long.

Annalise's mother had awaken in a fit of hysteric delusions, wailing with need of her daughter, sending Jamie home with great reluctance and disappointment at his own ineptitude to assist. Veering down the cobbled street he noticed the iron gate of his cousins home was left ajar with a screech of unbalance. An anxious stride to the front doors that rushed a chill to clutch his heart, Jamie saw that the heavy set doors were hanging off their hinges and splintered at every edge. Where beyond the sway of wood all was engulfed in unnatural silence and obscured from his vision, with only the rich tang of blood his greeting.

With a guiding hand along the wall of the entryway that turned towards the parlour room, there was a soft flicker of a melting candlestick that cut through the dark, along with a whimpering, gasping cry. Jamie's godfather laid on the floor, choking on blood that frothed at his mouth and drenched his beard in a shining black and sword off to the side. Had it ever been raised? Murtagh's assault was splattered to the walls and revoltingly hot on the carpet that seeped through the breeks of Jamie's knees as he bent to find the wounds. To stop the gush of death. To save the life of the man who was his idol in boyhood. And still even now.

But ahead of that body that writhed in fear and fury, stood a man whose features were hidden away, dressed in ruined finery that clung wet to his lean, unassuming frame. His hands were unadorned in weaponry yet held the gleam of slaughter in their grip, as they were wrapped around the to and fro of hair still immaculately tied with a violet ribbon. His cousins favorite color.

"You came home." Relief, so like that of a lover, crawled from the strangers lips to a caress of Jamie's ears in a horror that resounded deep within him to scream and run. Commanded vengeance. To cry for help.

Jamie would remember in that moment that there was an absence of air all around. The life within him already resigned to a fate destined for the grave, as he made his choice. Running towards the murderer, with the sword of his godfather wielded slippery in his grasp, Jamie slashed his steel at the throat only to be stopped by a block of an arm. The sword, ablaze with his last shred of bravery, shattered in a rain that carved into the flesh all along the breadth of Jamie.

Who had gone rigid as stone. Not only in terror but by an invisible force that seized Jamie by his very marrow. Where he was powerless to defend his life as hands smooth and slick were upon him, crushing the bone of his skull with unyielding pressure and drawing out a curdling scream. Jamie fell on his knees to the squelch of his own blood and piss, down to his back with the man straddling him and clear before him. The lone candles flame had caught on the carpet and licked across the mans face misted with the red of Jamie's kin, his hair black as the eclipse and eyes, soulless as the devils. All that Jamie could do that was left to him was invoke a damnation of the mans soul.

"Burn in fucking hellfire!"

The mans face softened with a blooming grin and a bemused chuckle that disturbed Jamie to a soundless weep. He released his hold of Jamie's head, grazing his fingertips to tears and cuts against the petrified lads cheek, dipping his mouth to a whisper that kissed Jamie's trembling lips.

"Join me."

The Black Butchers curse to Jamie held no pain that he could remember, not until he awoke drenched in a christening of carnage. Bodies of men he knew to be neighbors around him, with his skin tingling with the last vestiges of their heartbeats.

Then there were voices of men, alive and shouting in a swarm. Outside with torches, reflecting bright in the windows glass. Armed with all that could bludgeon, stab and gut.

So Jamie ran. And ran. And ran

Hid in caves. Shades of mountains. Safety found in the solitude.

Sought miracles never granted. Crossed villages to do so, where the inevitable would fly in streams of crimson to a rising gale. A fate forever doomed to those who glanced his way. Saw the fire of his hair. Remembered the gossip told over drams and pews of The Red Man.

For years Jamie lived this way to no avail.

And now here he was. Trapped in a land not his own, wearing the clothes of a man he killed to shield him from the cold, and bound to a woman who would lead that demon right back to him.

In the twilight hours of trekking through the forest aching for dawn, Jamie and Claire were quiet with one another. Neither wanting or daring to engage in anything more then a grunt or sigh to signal a slowing of pace, a moment of rest.

Jamie approached a slope of earth covered in gorse flowers, their spikes sharper then needles could scratch against the cuff of breeks to pierce the skin raw, when a foulness of voice cut the air and broke Jamie out of his morose reverie.

He looked up to see Claire, twisting about as her footing had caught in the dense undergrowth of ivy concealing the dips in the forest floor. She pulled the same thin blade she used to split her wrist on the vines and nearly toppled over on her arse in the process with shoulders slumping from the strain that mirrored Jamie's own in a shake of fatigue. They would need to rest. Now rather then later. Jamie threw his sight (softly blurring at the corners) to the trees in the distance, where only the creak of boughs whistled with the wind and to the blackness inbetween where not a stir of the wee things that lurked about could be seen or heard.

"There." Jamie said flatly in a powdery huff, sounding hoarse and scraping at his throat. He found himself regretting his dismissal of Claire's pass of drink but Jamie would rather not piss in the pitch dark. Or worse, a shit.

Jamie skittered down the slope without a glance back to Claire, who followed the imprints of his boots down to a gathering of low hanging trees and blue thorned bushes. Opposite one another, they both collapsed against the bark, pulling at the cloth around their bodies tight and shuffling uncomfortably where they sat as the soil was hard as ice beneath them, unsoftened by the grass. Claire's brown eyes heavily lined closed in relief, trusting in Jamie that he found their surroundings safe. Something he found to be odd for another person to think so of him. It had been so long.

The crickets chirped their graceless songs, the leaves rustled with every whip of air from above but Jamie kept his hearing alert, his nerves still refusing him sleep. In frustration with his own paranoia that always served him well (his head still attached but with eyes soon to dissolve in a slurry) Jamie sought to control his emotions in a shivered query to Claire.

"How long has it been since ye've seen him?"

Claire's sight fluttered open to a watery sting with nerves jerking from the abruptness of sound. Nerves always jumping at a dash along her periphery or a shadow holding whispers just along the shell of her ear down the sweep of neck. The presence of a phantom seeking Claire's whereabouts where even sleep held no sanctuary for her as he was always waiting with the deadly patience of an arachnid before it's strike of fangs. But she'd always escape in a wake of her own convulsing breath and staggering pulse.

"Weeks. And hopefully never again beyond that day." She said with a waver quickly reined in, tucking a hand under her chin should she need to slap it to her mouth. "But he could be anywhere, you know that. Even here. Now. And we wouldn't know. Not until he wanted us to."

A wish to ignore the hitch in her words Jamie carelessly questioned what Claire did to incur the butcher's wrath. He was asking for a penny dreadful in the dead of night, something Claire felt just as keenly, the reciprocation spilling to Jamie in a shudder across his skin from their link. It was a time before she spoke, a wisp of tone that even she wasn't aware of inflecting.

"I told you that my gifts are rooted in healing the sick, a craft I learned from a man lost to the ages now, My Maître Raymond." So perfectly strange was Claire's guardian and mentor, in manner anda grenouille in appearance. But a figure that walked too close to the line of decency and immorality that had left Claire to wonder if that was his downfall.

"We had a quiet reputation and apothecary of our own with a trusted few knowing of what we were. Even still, the butcher caught word of us." Claire remembered his hushed arrival so soundless she questioned if he even breathed. How Raymond's face drained of it's hue when his gaze lifted from his parchment ruined with the spill of ink and drop of quill. The subtle stroke of stubbied fingertips against the embroidery of his coat to signal for Claire to hide, a gesture seen by eyes devoid of light.

"We were dragged to his dwelling to heal a man - a boy truly, that he called brother."

"A brother? Jamie asked in a confounding shock. "Ye mean to tell me that creature was born of a woman? Human?" He had never pondered the butchers creation, only ever inquiring to olden enchanters of his makers name (the title of butchery was all that was given) and a cure from the wickedness that was spilled down Jamie's throat.

Claire nodded, she herself having once had the same disbelief. "Who sired him is the greater evil. But a mother he had and who named him Johnathan Randall."

"He promised our lives would be spared if we could save his brother, Alex life and if we didn't..."

In a room of dying a flame laid Alex, a frail and gasping thing in a bed of pillows that propped and quilts that did nothing to purge what was killing him in a slowed agony. Neither of the healers needed to lay a hand on him to see the affliction growing inside the boy. It could be seen from just a glance of Alex, envelopled in a shroud of livid black that smelled putridly of burning rot. The radiant glow that all good men have was being smothered by what emanated from Randall in malevolence and what hopelessly cried in sorrow for death in Jamie.

But what thrived in them was killing Alex and them soon enough with him.

Then Claire's Maître patted her arm, giving it a gentle squeeze and a crack of what she supposed was a reassuring smile. He shook his chin for her to keep to the wall towards the back, away from Randall glowering at Alex's bedside. Then Raymond pulled from his waist a knife, slitting his wrist and placing his palm on the boys bared chest alighting it in blue, all while envoking the unholy spells of Les Disciples du Mal. His personal obsession that Claire had never approved of that would now save them from being strewn across the room.

It was a hope short lived as Raymond's blue aura erupted frantically in a struggle, clashing with Alex's in a consumption that hollowed out their skin and dissolved the flesh within.

Claire ran for the door and to the stairs. Falling in a smash of shoulder and hip, broken to the ground with an intensifying swell of pain. Claire had been rendered immobile by a simple brush of Randall's will and all she could do was scream while his hands buried in her curls ripping at her scalp, dragging Claire roughly to the bed where the remains of the two laid atop one another.

It would have been the end if not for her body healing hurriedly in defiance of impending death. For the force of her own power to raise what was once broken and to slash across Randall's eyes in a sear that toppled him off her with a wail.

And Claire ran from the room. Never stopping. Not until she found a chance to escape Gaul before the waters would ice over in winter.

Jamie

Claire didn't bother asking Jamie if he understood her need of him now. What right did she have when he had suffered from the same man's hand. But she returned the question, it only being fair that she had to relieve the experience.

"What about you?"

With his gaze brimming with a gloss that was shaded in dusk from Claire, Jamie replied flatly -

"I noticed him." And he curled his back to Claire to grab what little comfort sleep would grant him.

It wasn't much, a few hours only, as the prick of awareness had Jamie rise with a jolt on all fours to Claire, softly breathing a snore from parted lips, brace her tightly with a rough shake and insult.

"Wake up, ye bleating goat!"

With a tap of cheek to stir her. That was Jamie's mistake.

Claire woke to a throbbing hand and Jamie's face hovering closely above hers with three black gashes running down the curve of his cheekbone to a mouth strained to a scowl.

"What on Earth -" Before Claire could say another word Jamie pressed himself to her with his entire weight, squashing her ribs and lungs to a sputtering breath for air.

"Quiet yerself there's -"

Claire didn't, as she caught sight of her hand deeply bruised with teeth marks.

"You bit me!" She exclaimed.

Jamie would have countered that she nearly blinded him when he tried to wake her but the reason for needing to do so pierced the night with snarls and howls surrounding them.

Jamie lifted himself cautiously to a sitting position, Claire moving with him, chin on his shoulder with fingers clutched beneath his cloak, directly at his sark and cutting at Jamie's skin. In fear of the golden eyes dotting the forest like fireflies but mostly from the rising call to attack bubbling inside Jamie. Claire restrained his senses quickly bursting in bloody impulse with a summoning of her mark upon him, painfully rattling her mind and sending her heart to rapidly palpitate.

"Leave me be woman, if ye care to see another day." Jamie warned with his tone a dangerous growl, keeping his attention forward with a hand digging just as deep in the tender skin of Claire's arm clasped to his chest. An invasion of filthy desire to rip it from her frame frightening Jamie but the flood of her in his veins keeping it just in his mind. And for that at least he was thankful.

"To the right of ye, there's a split in the tree. I dinna care how fat yer arse is, wedge yerself there until I'm done with them and only when I've come back to myself." He tilted his head to Claire with a wry smirk. "Will be a true test of yer bewitchment on me, aye?"

Claire curled her nails one last time at Jamie's chest for his less then kind comment that had him grunting, before slackening her hold on him (the physical and intangible). She was readying herself to run like hell when a wolf, hulking in size with fur white as it's teeth brighter then moonlight, approached them from the blackness. It's eyes the vibrant color of the forest itself fixed on Claire in shining familiarity and Jamie shifted himself to block her from it's view, much to her surprise.

"Don't move." Claire ordered when she felt Jamie's muscles spasm and his body lurch while hissing under his breath,"Shit."

"Are ye mad woman?! I'm no' yer dog! I willna -"

"Mo calman geal." A voice inhuman came from the slack jaw of the wolf, deadening Jamie of speech and saliva. The beast not only spoke the language of Jamie's homeland far across the sea, the damn thing talked.

Mo calman…?

Jamie whipped his head to Claire, white as any dove with a drop of red spilling from her nose to the curve of her lip aquiver that she quickly wiped away in a smear. It was then Jamie realized that despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins he was still in mastery of himself, or rather Claire was and seemingly just barely.

"Come wi' me." The wolf beckoned, then cackled devilishly that tugged at it's mouth, prying it wide with a waggle of it's tongue and flare of steaming nostrils. "Before my pets fill their belly's wi' ye."

Claire exchanged a glance towards Jamie where he shook his head at any notion of stupidty of hers that didn't end with him covered in animal but still very much alive.

"Yer going to listen that creature?!" Jamie asked incredulously, even as the hoarde of wolves began to swarm upon them in a circling taunt of teeth.

"What other choice do we have?"

Jamie's eyes darted around him before landimg back on Claire in grudging resignation. "Aye. But if one of them howlers nips at yer leg I'll encourage the fiends to reach a bit higher."

"Not if they don't take a bite of your redhead first." Claire mumbled not intending it as a shot but the honest truth even so Jamie felt his throat catch almost in a chuckle.

They rose together, still attached at the palms, with neither bothering to raise issue, an excuse of keeping Jamie in control was all that was needed. But in truth a touch of human, however veiled in magic and curses, was a desperate and unexpected comfort to them both.

_____

A/N: The big bad of this story was actually supposed to be Master Raymond who was stalking Claire's dreams and would eventually (unknowingly to you readers until close to the end) struck a deal with Jamie (seeing him through Claire's eye) in his dreams to deliver Claire to him. But it was all so complicated and in order to get this story going in I went to bjr (part of what was supposed to be a second arc).

*The song Murtagh sings is, "Detectorists" by Johnny Flynn. I was randomly looking for this song and found an English murder ballad from another century instead. Which is what made me decide to move forward with this story.

*The bite scene is from my thirteen year old selfs brain when I first thought of this story (which was inspired by a dress) about an empress and a cursed man. It's a little odd but I had to put it in. my own silly easter egg.

Thank you for reading.

#Outlander #outlander fanfiction #outlander fanfic #jamie x claire

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bee-kathony · 6 years ago

Photo

Emma reacts to Outlander 4x04 “Common Ground”

Originally posted on twitter

Jamie in his wee glasses

Damn right Claire’s gonna help build Fraser’s Ridge

The lairds coat just looks so good on him

Omg her clothes! The red polka dot dress!

Marsali pregnant

Awwww sweet Claire and marsali moment :,)

Ugh Jamie looking at Claire hugging marsali MY HEART

CLAIRE MISSES BREE

This scene Claire mentioning her own mother, Jamie saying “our daughter” Cait’s chin wobble 10/10 OFF THEY GO TO FRASER’S RIDGE!

Mark that land baby

Claire saying “we did” calling herself as an american

InDECENT THINGS

PRESS YOU UP AGAINT YER WHAT JAMIE?!

EFF YOU IAN

HE CARVED F.R. INTO THE TREE OMG

Bears

Back to 1971 sigh

Omg Jamie’s hair and Rogers voiceover I love this

They’re really building their home

tHE YELLOW DRESS Tension

Lol is that Maril’s dog?

“Claire found Jamie”

Omg the same mountain djsjsksksk

Don’t cry roger, you were a dick

They’re holding hands I am weak

“The mountain spoke to me”

Hand kiss le happy sigh

OMG THE BEAR IS THIS THE BEAR SCENE?! I’m scared

Oh a horse

Awwwwww omg he’s hurt

Oh there’s the wee fish

Omg the knitting “Even Jamie?” Pls LET US SEE

Shoot it girl Oooo that was hot but now you have less wood so

Omg omg the bear Me is scared

Those torches are easily lit

Omg John Quincy his belly

Jamie be cAREFUL

Omg I’m actually scared JAMIE WATCH YOURSELF

YOU MISSED JAMMF

wtf A man dressed as a bear?

So there’s no real bear?

Poor sam having to do this after his marathon lol

That actor saying to lay with a woman against her wishes is not their way. YIKES

BEAR KILLER

When her hair is white like snow

“death is sent from the gods, it will not be your fault”

Fiona kens the tea

I cannot believe the effects that this obituary has

ROGER YE BISH TELL BREE NOW

THIS Fraser’s Ridge music is so beautiful

Sooooo no mention of flinging and ravishing about the breeks? Cool. Def out of character for Jamie not to mention it but whatever

BREE ALREADY WENT TO SCOTLAND THE FU OMG SHES ALREADY GONE WHAT

THINGS ARE ESCALATING

Rating: 8/10 - I really enjoyed this episode, there were book elements such as the mention that everyone at Lallybroch kens how to knit even Jamie which was a great addition - the intro to the natives was interesting and the tension was palpable

- the flashes with 1971 and J/C were fine, sometimes a bit abrupt but fitting with the story and I found it enhanced what we were seeing on the ridge - Rogers voiceover of reading about Fraser’s Ridge and them building was actually a great choice

- the music was really great this ep! - I felt like even though time was passing as they built the ridge, it never felt rushed, this ep felt like it had time to breathe imo - sweet moments like Claire and Jamie talking about bree :,)

- I feel like this is the first episode of the season imo that Claire is Claire - sweet hand kisses and cuddles betwixt the Fraser’s - the bear scene was an interesting change to not have an actual bear. I totally get why but it was a little ??? At first

Dislikes: - J/C still kissing like people with no lips - Claire is wearing breeks and not ONE mention of ravishing. Very out of character for Jamie to not say something - I wanted to see Claire hit the bear with a fish

- the main issue with this episode I found is with the actor playing one of the main natives. It’s been known recently that he is an abuser and rapist. What made this even worse than it already is, is the fact that his character mentions that abusing women is not the way of their people. It was very hard to watch this scene and hear those words with the knowledge that we have. I don’t know all the details about what happened there but this was very awkward and something could have been done

Overall, I really enjoyed this episode. I’m SHOOK about Bree going to Scotland!! I thought we would have one more episode before she found out about J/C but HERE WE GO EVERYONE!

#emma reacts #outlander spoilers #episode four #season four #common ground

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imagineclaireandjamie · 4 years ago

Note

High hopes.

Brian and Ellen AU / Tell Me About Your Family

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 || Chapter 11 || Chapter 12|| Chapter 13 || Chapter 14 || Chapter 15 || Chapter 16

———-

“...but the fairy couldnae return to the place where she had come from, because sadly the magic door between the stones had disappeared.”

Snug in their bed, Faith and Brianna gasped. “But why, Da?”

Sprawled on one side of the bed, arm tightly holding his daughters, Jamie sighed. “Because the magic door was only open at certain days of the year. And sadly, the day that the fairy returned to the stones was one of those days.”

Faith’s dark brows furrowed. “So what did she do? The bad man in red was chasing her!”

“Do ye remember how the fairy had made friends wi’ the hunter?”

Brianna nodded. “He kept her safe when she was sad and lost.”

“Weel - the hunter had gone to the stones wi’ her, just in case there was a problem. And sure enough, he was there to help her.”

“So where did they go, Da?”

He smiled slightly. “Would ye believe that he wrapped her up in his plaid and took her home wi’ him, to a secret place where no’ even the bad men could find them?”

“Yes,” Faith yawned. “Because Lallybroch is that place for you, Da. Aye?”

His heart clenched.

“Aye, lass. It is.”

---

He found Claire in her stillroom downstairs, checking entries in her meticulous ledger.

“Is he asleep?”

Briefly she looked up, then returned to her work, scanning the cramped pages. “Yes - he was a bit fussy, but all is well. What about the girls?”

He leaned over to kiss her forehead. “Giggling like wee fiends. They’ll tire themselves out eventually.”

She stood up straight, and slung her arms around his shoulders. Pulled him closer for a long, slow kiss.

“Mmm. You taste like herbs,” he breathed against her lips.

“And you taste like salt.” Quickly she kissed him again. “Sweat or tears?”

He swallowed. “A bit of both.”

She kissed his chin. “All will be well.”

He pressed his cheek against hers, whispering terrified words in her ear.

“What if it doesnae work? They will know I am here. I’m an outlaw. I’m a danger to all of ye. What if they come to arrest me, and take you away from the bairns? What if - ”

“Hush.” She pulled back to look at him, framing his face between her hands, eyes intent in the candlelight. “One day at a time. What if it does work, Jamie? What about then?”

His eyes were so wide, glassy with tears and fright. “I cannae live wi’out you, Claire. Wi’out my family.”

“You won’t need to,” she insisted. “We have right on our side.” She paused, trailing a finger down the side of his neck in a way she knew would make him shiver.

“I am here with you, right now, beyond all logic and reason and possibility. Our children exist because we defied all of the rules. And we love what we have because we have fought for it, so desperately.”

He nodded, sighing. Heart and mind racing.

“I want to give ye so much more than I have, Claire.” His voice was low, quiet. “More than a life as an outlaw’s wife, living on a remote farm. You deserve something...grander. For all you have sacrificed.”

Carefully she swept her ledger, quill, and assorted bottles to one side of the table, and sat on the edge of the cleared side. Holding her husband’s work-roughened hands. Looking up at him.

“I want what I have. I love our life - I don’t need anything else. And you’ve given me so many things I never thought I’d have. Your family. Our family that we’ve made together.”

She pulled him down for an affirming kiss. Tore her mouth away, to whisper in his ear.

“You’ve given me yourself. The gift I never thought I’d have.”

She felt the shiver echo through his body.

“And I give you myself in return. Now. Please.”

He seized her mouth. She wrapped her legs around his hips. She kissed his smile.

---

Ellen was in bed, reading, when Brian finally made his way upstairs.

“What took you so long?” She set aside her spectacles and lay them atop the book on her bedside table, stretching.

He bolted the door and kicked off his boots. “Was going over the ledgers wi’ Ian. Jamie had promised to be there, but he disappeared into Claire’s stillroom.”

She smiled. “I’m so glad they have each other, now especially. This waiting...it’s excruciating.”

Brian unbelted his breeks. “Aye, and it’s only been two weeks. No word from Ned, either. I dinna ken if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

“Aye. I’m glad Rab went wi’ him, though. He can advocate for Jamie if Ned can’t. And truth be told - I worry for Ned.”

Brian slid into bed beside her. “When he comes home, wi’ Jamie’s pardon - we need to do something for him.”

Ellen sighed. “Aye. But let’s no’ start planning for something that hasnae happened.”

“Yet,” he insisted.

She nodded. “Ever the dreamer ye are, Brian Fraser.”

He smiled. Christ, when he did that she felt like a lass again.

“I’ve had many a dream in my life, Ellen MacKenzie. But all the most important ones have you in it.”

She lay her hand on top of his.

“Though,” he added, “I do often wonder whether ye regret that I couldnae offer ye a life better than that of a crofter’s wife. I do remember the castle ye were born in.”

She squeezed his hand. “The life you have given me, mo dhu - it’s far richer than any I could have ever dreamed of.”

He kissed her forehead, then her temple - and buried his face in the red curls that had made his heart sing since the first time he saw her, thousands of lifetimes ago on that night at Leoch.

“I do love you, my own,” he whispered.

“I love you,” she whispered. “More than reason.”

---

In the dark of their rented room above a London tavern, Rab Fraser listened to Ned Gowan rehearse his remarks for the ninth time.

“...regardless of the fact that James Fraser was indeed on Culloden Moor on that fateful day, he was only there due to the willful forgery of his signature by the pretender who His Majesty’s court is currently petitioning the Vatican to extradite...”

Rab rubbed his eyes wearily.

Tomorrow would decide everything.

#;mod gotham #brian and ellen au #Anonymous

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oftheridge-a · 6 years ago

Note

☯ + jamie meeting bree for the first time. (look okay; diana didn't give his POV and i need it.)

He may just kill Fergus, son or not. As much as Jamie loves his son, the fact remains that Fergus has always had a penchant for getting into trouble. As a lad it was easier to deal with, being that Jamie could normally scoop him up and hold him, limbs flailing, away from whatever obstacle it was that Fergus had planned to take down using blunt force or his sharp tongue. But as Fergus has grown, it’s become impossible to do so. As an adult, Fergus has to mind himself, though Jamie finds himself more often than not minding it for him.

Which is why he’s in a tavern in Cross Creek, drinking beer. For the millionth time he wishes it was a glass of whisky, but any good alcohol is few and far between in America. He has his distillery up on the Ridge, but that’s much too far for him to obtain a glass now, so he’s got to settle for what the landlord has to offer here.

There’s some casual conversation, but not much — Jamie’s much too tired for that — and once he finishes his tankard, he asks for another and heads out the back to relieve himself. His mind is set on the trial, thinking about just what he’s going to say, about his plans that he’d hatched earlier, on his ride to Cross Creek, and so when he drops the kilt to fall back around his legs and turns, he is very much not expecting to see someone standing in front of him.

A lad, a young lad — younger than Fergus. What they want of him he doesn’t know, and is about to open his mouth to speak when he realizes that he’d been mistaken. Not a lad. A lass, wearing breeks and a tight shirt and Christ he thought that Claire with her modern thinking would be the only woman he’d see in the getup. Apparently not.

“What d’ye want here, lassie?” He steps forward, away from the tree, eyes taking her in. Her hair nearly mirrors his own, a shade he hasn’t seen since Scotland — his heart suddenly lurches, yearning hardly for Lallybroch, for his family, for the life he’d used to lead — but it flies back into his chest with a nearly audible snap. No. He’s better here, no longer a wanted man, no longer a criminal, with the love of his life and his family and a place to call his own. He’s happier here.

“You.”

He’s definitely not expecting that, and he blinks, owl-like, before his eyes narrow as he smiles. No, a woman’s body has not tempted him since Claire had come back to him.

“Sorry, lass — I’m a marrit man.”

As he shifts, side-stepping, she reaches out her hand as if to touch him, but her fingers stop just shy of his shirt sleeve. He pauses, looking down at them for a moment, and his lips tighten at the corners.

“No,” he says with a shake of his head, the look in his eyes turning to something halfway between humor and pity— “I meant it. I’ve a wife at home, and home’s not far—“

But then he sees her clothes, tattered at the edges and dirty, and the humor fades from his gaze. Christ, does she have a place to wash? A place to live? The look in her eyes is hungry, the corners of them pinched, as if she hasn’t had much to eat. He moves to dig into his sporran —

“Och— will ye be starved then, lass? I’ve money, if you must eat…”

“Are you… you’re Jamie Fraser, aren’t you?”

She knows him. This throws him, and his gaze sharpens on hers. Christ — is she the daughter of someone he knows? Or… has someone sent her?

“I am…” he says slowly, face wary as he turns to look towards the tavern. He’s not sure what he expected — perhaps there would be someone standing there, watching to see… but the door is empty. “Who asks? Have you a message for me, lass?”

And then the words she speaks nearly shatter him. “My name is Brianna. I’m your daughter. Brianna.”

He feels as if he’s going to faint, mind absurdly flashing to when he’d seen Claire for the first time in twenty years. This is similar to that, though he’d never in his entire life thought he would see his daughter in front of him. And the similarities suddenly click into place as if they’d been like that the entire time. The cat eyes, so much like his sister’s. The long red hair, the same color as his own, the same length as his mother’s… oh Christ.

It’s her.

After what feels like an hour, though it must be only a few moments, he speaks again, voice coming out in a croak as if someone’s got their hand around his throat, gripping tightly. “It is you, Brianna?”

“It’s me. Can’t you tell?”

“Aye. Aye, I can.” He thinks he might cry, his fingers skimming over the skin of her face, running through her hair… things he never thought he’d do, things he’d only dreamed of. “I hadna thought of you as grown. I saw the pictures, but still — I had ye in my mind somehow as a wee bairn always— as my babe. I never expected…”

He never thought he’d see her. Only in his dreams, he’d seen her as a wee lass, in his arms as she sleeps, snuggling close to his chest. As a little girl with long red hair, sitting on his knee as he reads her a story late into the night, in front of the fire. But here she is, standing grown in front of him, and when he takes her into his arms with tears streaming down her cheeks, he can’t help but duck his head and inhale slowly, breathing her in.

His daughter.

She struggles, trying to figure out what to call him, and his lips curl in a small smile. “You can… call me Da. If ye want to, I mean.”

“Da. Is that Gaelic?”

“No. It’s only… simple.”

Her arms around him again, and he shuts his eyes, feeling his heart thud in his chest like someone pounding on a war drum. As they stand there, the pounding slows, til it’s steady and centered.

A piece of him that had been missing for so long falls into place, and the world around them is still.

#outlander spoilers #goOD LORD I'M HAVING FEELINGS #seesbright #correspondences.#drabble.

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dopescotlandwarrior · 4 years ago

Text

Beauty Chooses II-Chapter 7

All my thanks to @statell for your unending help

Previous chapters on AO3 Ch-1 Ch-2 Ch-3 Ch-4 Ch-5 Ch-6

Chapter Seven- Culloden Moor

I thought Murtagh had gone to bed, but here he was again kneeling in front of me. I saw a fear in his eyes I had never seen before. He took my hand and my tears poured down my face not wanting to hear what he came to tell me. No! He will be home any minute, I screamed in my head.

“Lass, it’s time to discuss a probable explanation for Jamie’s absence. Ye need to be strong like never before, ye ken?”

I saw him through watery eyes and shook my head side to side. In my head, I was screaming at him to shut his mouth, but I knew I could not stop this insanity, whatever it was.

“It’s likely Jamie has been press-ganged into service for Prince Charles. They will secure his service with threats against you and Faith. He will be convinced he must serve and lead men into battle or ye and Faith will be killed.”

I couldn’t breathe suddenly, and my hands flew to my back reaching for my corset laces. I was panicked and feeling the dizziness of oxygen depletion. Murtagh pulled my jacket off and quickly pulled my laces enough for a deep breath. I held my skirts to my face and sobbed like I would die from this broken heart. When I could steady myself, I looked up at Murtagh.

”If Jamie fights on Culloden Moore he will be killed, and we will be next.”

“I believe Jamie will find a way to escape and we have to be ready to disappear with him. We can hide out until a ship will have us. Don’t lose faith in Jamie lass, he will find his way back, and alive.”

Murtagh went to bed and I stayed in the parlor all night, waiting for Jamie to return, waiting for my heart to start again, waiting for an inkling of hope all was not lost. I did not see my bedroom for three days because I was waiting for Jamie. I didn’t eat or speak to anyone other than Faith. On the third day, my lack of sleep drove my sanity away. I saw Jamie out the windows, working or feeding horses. I jumped up and down, so happy to see him safe. Running outside I would not be able to find him, and my despair would return. During dinner the third night, I saw Jamie walk down the hall and screamed with joy running after him. When he couldn’t be found I crumpled into the wall and fell to the floor. I remember nothing after that except Faith nursing at my breast and then darkness.

I woke up terribly stiff during the night and was shocked to see Murtagh in the corner chair, elbows on knees, staring at the ground. He looked so sad.

“Murtagh?”

“Thank Christ, yer awake lass. I need to ask ye, please find yer strength. Yer family needs ye desperately now, please don’t go back into yer long sleep.”

“How long have I slept?”

“two days Claire.”

“Dear God, what’s happened in those two days? Murtagh, I’m so sorry I left you holding down the house. Are the animals okay? Misses Crook and Glavia?”

He nodded yes to all my questions and filled me in on the news of several skirmishes with the British that the Jacobites had won. The Scottish troops were assembled for training and preparation of the coming battle. British troops were massing for the one-sided battle that would bring Scotland to her knees.

“Claire. Do we stay or do we go?”

I looked at him wide-eyed like I had not considered leaving Jamie behind. I couldn’t speak because this reality was outside my ability to endure. Leave him behind. Take his daughter and run away from him.

“I cannot.”

Murtagh told me to think about a plan, we needed a plan, or we would all be killed when the red coats came to wipe-out the families of the traitors. Murtagh left my room and I walked hunched over looking at the ground. I wanted to lay on the floor and just wait for Jamie to come home. But I had to move and save my daughter and two dear friends who trusted me to lead them to safety.

My days were filled with chores and fear. The British had requisitioned a great many resources in Scotland to be used to murder Scottish men fighting for our freedom. They had seized most of the ships that we would need to find passage to America, and the chance to get away became slim to non-existent. On April first I hung my head and cried for Jamie to come home. Seventeen days to escape my love, it’s time to find a way.

Murtagh and I were exhausted trying to fill Jamie’s shoes; when I could no longer stand it, I climbed the hill and found my tree. I sat on the ground and ran my hand over the place I would wake up day after day and Jamie’s smiling face filled my mind. It was transporting. I closed my eyes and let those memories drift through my mind, making me forget he was gone. The dipping temperature woke me hours later and I staggered to my feet feeling my breasts achingly full trying to remember the last time I had nursed Faith. I was running and misjudged the hill, running straight off the edge, and flying through the air before tumbling to the bottom.

“Claire!” Murtagh pulled me up. “I’ve been lookin everywhere for ye lass, are ye alright?”

All I could think of was Faith as I ran to the house and up to the nursery. I came in wide-eyed to see Glavia hold a cup to Faith encouraging her to sip the milk. Misses Crook was behind her with a big encouraging smile.

“What are you doing?”

“Teaching the little beauty to drink from a cup and look at her!”

I felt betrayed and suddenly left out. I had hardly seen my daughter except to nurse her in the past three weeks, and here she was learning to drink without me. Glavia was nothing short of a miracle since the day she delivered my baby. I loved her and knew she meant only the best for Faith, so I kept quiet.

When Faith saw me, she reached out calling, “mama up. ” Glavia held her hands while she took bold steps toward me and I sank down to the floor to witness this miracle. Faith was breathing hard and smiling as she came to me. I held out my hands and caught the second love of my life holding her to me and wishing Jamie was here to see this.

On April 13th, Murtagh again went to the docks and returned with nothing. He was starting to pester me about the plan. It was time to go and I knew it. I couldn’t think with the battle on our heels; I would rather sit in a corner and pray for Jamie’s safety.

On April 17, 1745 I sat on my bed and watched the sun come up through bloodshot eyes. It was almost over and the greatest man I had ever known would raise his sword against the muskets, carbines, pistols, cannons, and 35-inch swords of the British army who will outnumber the Highlanders four to one. I sobbed and hugged Jamie in my head. Trying to say everything I thought I had a lifetime to say. Please hear me Jamie. I love you, until the end of time, wait for me in heaven, feel my love.

Jamie was in battle uniform in the quiet of the sunrise. He knew the battle would be lost today and his worry over Claire and Faith nearly crippled him. He had tried to escape twice and paid dire consequences at the wrong end of the whip. He pulled Claire into his mind and when he saw her wide golden eyes and beautiful face, it broke him. He walked the field they were camped in trying to stay ahead of the guards posted to him day and night. He just wanted to be alone with the Sassenach and Faith one last time.

In his mind, he touched her cheek. I hope yer on a fast ship to America my love, far away from the devastation to come. I hope ye remember me always. The man who loved ye like ye were the sunrise itself. It has been this lad’s honor to love ye and I humbly thank ye lass.

All day, Murtagh and I carried supplies high into the hills where we would hide in a secret cave barely big enough for one person. On my third climb, I fought my skirts and strangulating corset, finally throwing my armload to the ground I walked back to the house.

“Misses Crook! Kindly assist me with this hateful corset.”

I climbed into the attic with Misses Crook looking like I was the worst sinner she had ever seen. To be walking around the house without my corset was just not done. I was pleasantly surprised I was not panting for air from my efforts and set about looking for clothing I could wear. When I emerged, I wore breeks, a linen shirt, boots and a hat with my hair stuffed neatly inside. The next ten trips up to the cave that day were far easier.

I had a steady stream of tears on my cheeks throughout the day. I was so tired I could not move anymore. The battle was over and Jamie was dead, my dreams were dead, my world was dead, and this century was dead to me. We hunkered down in the cave and slept fitfully all night wondering if Lallybroch was being raided and if we would ever see it again.

The next day I passed out salted fish and jerky to everyone except Faith who was nursed as always. I told everyone we were leaving this place, today. Gone were my refined manners and speech, I addressed them like a New Yorker, and I was taking them home to my century. One way or another.

I crept into the barn after hiding to watch the house for ten minutes. I saddled Brimstone quickly with shaking hands and held my breath. I led her quickly out into the long grass and then mounted and galloped into the woods. I told her how sorry I was, but we needed speed and urged her to keep running. When I tied her to a tree at the bottom of the gorge, I heard thunder above my head and a second later, rain. It came down in buckets soaking me through. I held my ears from the loud claps of thunder and sat on a large rock to wait the storm out, never so defeated in my life.

I stared at the rocks, as far as my eyes could see. Normal, round, ugly rocks that held no magic to get us to safety. I continued to stare at them and saw the pounding rain hit them with force. Pieces of sand and dirt were knocked away and slowly the outer crust of dirt melted away by the pounding rain to reveal a beautiful, brilliant blue! I screamed and jumped up to lift the rock into my sack, smiling ear to ear.

There were more and more pieces revealed by this miracle rain and I gathered them all into my sack and tied it my saddle. If the magic was still there, we would escape sure death today. I galloped home with renewed hope slowing to a quiet gate as I approached the estate. The rain continued and the house was crawling with redcoats.

I pulled the tack off Brimstone and told her to go home, then I ran for the big hill to join my family and get us to a safer time. I saw several redcoats in the hills above Lallybroch and luckily avoided being seen. As I approached the cave my heart nearly stopped when I saw Murtagh, Misses Crook, Glavia, and my darling Faith, being pushed out of the cave, the swords of two British soldiers were at their backs.

I was breathing so hard I thought I might pass out, so I sat low behind a tree and calmed my breathing. I prayed for the strength to do this and prayed to Jamie to help me know when to run to my family. The minutes were like hours as I watched the sadistic soldiers torture Murtagh and leer at Glavia. She was so scared and my heart broke for her. There was nowhere for the group to run as the soldiers were in front of the path that led down the hill, they were captives awaiting execution.

When the soldiers huddled to discuss the murder and rape of Glavia, I made a run for my “family” holding my finger to my lips to shush them all. I held out my hands instructing us all to join hands tightly, and not to let go under any circumstance. I didn’t bother with whispering anymore. I reached into the sack and pulled out the biggest blue stone yelling at them not to let go!

Two muskets were raised and aimed at my head and the balls were fired into thin air, we had vanished leaving the soldiers staring ahead, mute with shock. I clung to Glavia and Murtagh and felt the whole group jettison away from this time. I concentrated on modern Scotland and Lallybroch, envisioning how it was when I left.

When I became aware of the others again, we were standing in front of Lallybroch on a warm sunny day. I pulled Faith into my arms and kissed her awake. My smile was so big it hurt until I saw the terrified faces of Murtagh, Glavia, and Misses Crook. The women were crying uncontrollably and clinging to each other. I put my arms around them and told them we were alright.

“We made it! I’m sure of it. Please trust me, it was the only way to save all of you. We are at Lallybroch, two-hundred and fifty years in the future. I am a time traveler, and this is my time. I know it’s a lot to take in, but we would have died horrible deaths at the hands of those soldiers. This was the only way. I’m sorry it was such a shock. I am not happy about being here, but you are all alive and hopefully, I’ll get you back to your time, when it’s safer.”

The house looked incredible as we walked toward it. It shined with new windows and paint, fences repaired and whitewashed, and a garden! I wondered if I brought us to the wrong time and we were about to walk into someone’s home. My poor startled friends were huddled together, scared shitless, and looking suspiciously at me.

“I’m so sorry, please forgive me for not telling you before we made the jump. There just wasn’t time. Please, don’t be afraid. This is safest place you could hope to be. I don’t remember the house looking this way so I’m going in first to make sure it’s empty. I gave the estate to my best friend before I went through the stones to stay in your century with Jamie.” Blank, fearful faces looked at me. “It’s a very long story and I will tell you everything in due time.”

I knocked on the kitchen door and said hello! Nothing. The door was locked so I walked around the house counting to the third window. I reached high and felt a key. Thank you Joe, I thought, for always being consistent.

I returned to the group huddled at the front of the door and held them back as I unlocked the door, telling them I would check the house and then let them in. The kitchen was completely updated and smelled like fresh paint. It was so lovely. I crept through the room and noticed the fire pit and cauldron had been replaced with a contemporary stove. When I looked up, I stopped dead in my tracks.

On the counter was a cell phone plugged into the wall for a continuous charge. I picked it up with shaking hands and pushed buttons until it lit up. The phone app was on and a phone number had been punched in. I hit the call button and held my breath. I knew the line connected to someone and my heart pounded waiting for a hello.

“Pet.”

When I heard his voice the last two months of worry and loneliness crashed down on my head and I held on to a cabinet to keep from falling.

“Joe!” I wept, uncontrollably. The millions of minutes I held back my emotion for the good of the group came bursting forward like a damn broke and I sobbed his name over and over again.

“I am close, and I am coming pet. Please be there. Please.”

The line went dead and I staggered to the door to let everyone in. I was holding a paper towel under my nose as Misses Crook pinched it trying to understand what it was. I took Faith from Glavia and we walked through the house that had been repaired, retrofitted for electricity and plumbing, and furnished. Each bedroom had a bed, dresser, lights, and other assorted furniture. I avoided Jamie’s room knowing I would lose it completely, wanting to spare Faith that scary sight. Joe had thought of everything including a crib for Faith and an extra bed in the nursery for Glavia. When I left him almost four-million dollars it was intended for his education not restoring Lallybroch. Right now, I couldn't be happier.

It was overwhelming to us all and we gathered in the kitchen so I could show them some of the benefits of the twentieth century. I could see they were starting to withdraw from the shock of being transported to another time where their house still existed. Wait for a plane to fly overhead, I thought.

“I’m sorry you all got the fright of your life, truly sorry.” I looked at Murtagh who was white-faced and quiet. “We are safe here. Many years in the future. No wars, no clans, and … no Lairds. I lost my control at that point and my tears flowed for several minutes.

“But! Here are some nice things you can enjoy while you are at this Lallybroch..” I opened the door to the refrigerator; it was well stocked with drinks in cans, including beer, but no food. The freezer was stuffed with dinners, side dishes, minute meals, and everything else Joe could get into it. I pulled Misses Crooks hand to the frig and put her hand on the cold cans. She gasped and pulled her hand away holding it close to her body with wide eyes. I turned on one of the burners and held Glavia's hand above it until she snatched it back feeling the heat with no fire.

I pulled a beer out for Murtagh and watched his eyes light up when he drank it down. I pulled juice out for Misses Crook and Glavia and watched their surprise when they tasted the liquid. I tipped a juice to Faith’s lips and she took a tentative taste scrunching up her face at the bold flavor. Her little arms reached for the can every time she swallowed and the laughter from that was our first relief from the stressful shock.

The next modern marvel was the bathroom and the updates were stunning. The house had four bathrooms that I could see and figured another would have been built into the master bedroom making five total. I took a tumbler from a kitchen cabinet and led them all into the downstairs bathroom. First I flushed the toilet causing them all to jump back and gasp. I turned the faucet on and blew them away with the column of water that poured out on my command. Next, I filled the glass to the brim and poured it into the toilet, wadding up some toilet paper and dropping it in before flushing it away.

The confusion on all their faces suggested I oversimplified this particular room. I thought for a minute and announced “the chamber pot” creating nodding heads and affirmative oohs and ahs. They were hustling out of the bathroom when I pulled them back to see one more miracle. I pushed the shower curtain open and turned on the shower with hot water. I pulled Glavia’s hand to the water and she nearly screamed with her shock as the water came out hot. After each person had felt the water, I decided it was time to rest.

Murtagh vanished and I led Glavia and Faith to the nursery where I nursed my daughter and soothed Glavia’s nerves. Faith was out like a light and I kissed Glavia’s hands promising her we would be alright and she would return to her own time. I begged her to lay down while Faith slept and then left her. I walked through the lower level appreciating everything Joe had done to the house. It was spectacular. I threw logs into the fireplace in the parlor and then ran for the ringing phone.

“Joe?”

“So it’s true. You’ve come back. Thank God you’re safe.”

“Baritone!” Are you coming? Please say you’re coming!”

“I am pulling up to the parking garage at the airport as we speak trying to overcome my shock at hearing your voice. Are you alright Claire?”

My chin was quivering so hard I grabbed it to hold it steady. “I lost…and then they were…I found the stones… red coats drew their weapons….found our cave…Jamie died today.” I gripped my stomach and bent over to endure the sobs that came. Baritone kept talking to me about things that were non- threatening. He kept up a steady stream of chatter that finally calmed me down.

The voice changed and it was Joe talking to me in his soothing big brother voice. They were boarding a plane in London for a one and a half hour flight. I gripped the phone like a lifeline and whined myself back into sobbing when Joe had to hang up. The plane was taking off for Scotland. I put the phone on the counter and stared at it. The popping fireplace sounded like home and it calmed me, so I just stood in the kitchen and listened. I realized that this was the hardest day of my life and I was not in my right mind. I walked into the parlor and sat on the couch staring at the fire feeling the tears roll down my cheeks.

Someone was calling my name. Two voices calling me and my eyes flew open looking for Jamie. I ran into the kitchen and right into Joe’s chest feeling his arms come around me and hold me possessively. He didn’t let me go but walked me back to the couch and gently pushed me down. I looked at him and felt my heart in my throat. My friend, my dearest friend was here, holding my hands and smiling.

Baritone kissed my cheek making me look up at his beautiful face. He was even more breathtaking than before and he looked at me with such compassion. My brain must have shut down because all I could do is look from one to the other. When I finally said something it was ridiculous.

“These are lad’s clothes because I had to climb to the cave over and over this morning and my corset was about to kill me.”

Joe nodded his head like he understood completely. “You found the rock pet.”

“In the pouring rain, it melted the dirt and sand from the rocks, and they were bright blue, so I took them all and begged Brimstone to gallop for all she was worth.” Remembering the scene when I arrived at the cave stole my voice again and made my heart pound.

Joe rubbed my arm and spoke in an upbeat tone. “And when you got back you pulled everyone to your own time?”

“I had one chance to get to them and I was so scared. I started a couple of times and then went back behind the tree. The soldiers were going to make Murtagh watch and then kill him too. I just ran for them when the soldiers were distracted. I shouted for everyone to hold hands tightly and not to let go. I saw the rifles pointed at my head and then heard the wind in my ears as we were pulled away.”

“Jesus Pet. That just happened today and look at you holding the world up for your group. You are amazing.”

I looked at Joe and thought, really? I’m amazing even though I feel shattered and small at the moment? Baritone fetched a whiskey bottle and glasses and we all had two shots in front of the fire. Joe never let go of my hands and Baritone did not leave my back. As the whisky warmed me on the insides I started to relax until I heard Faith cry. I ran to the stairs and found Glavia making her way down. Faith held her arms out to me and I hugged her close.

Glavia stood ramrod still when she saw Joe and Baritone. They both stood while I introduced them and urged Glavia to join us for a whisky and talk. The next one to show himself was Murtagh and I was so happy to see him, pouring his drink and introducing everyone. Joe and Baritone were very nice to everyone, but they could not take their eyes off Faith. She was well-rested and full of happy energy when she stood up in my lap. She looked closely at Joe and babbled at him quite insistently pointing her finger at him. We laughed at her antics until she lunged herself at Joe. He caught her easily and let her sit in his lap. It was obvious Joe was not doing what she wanted so she pressed her head against his chest sitting very still.

I watched my darling girl and wondered if she was looking for a voice she knew from some other time. I asked Joe to talk continuously for a few minutes and nodded to Faith. He launched into everything that happened since I walked through the stones. Faith kept her little head pressed to his chest, eyes drooping as she listened. When she was sound asleep Joe just held her sleeping form, and I was loving him for it. Baritone asked if she normally goes to all new people. I explained my theory, she was looking for the voice she heard daily as she grew in my womb. “That must be what he sounded like when we would cuddle in the morning.”

“This is the first time I haven’t been totally pissed off hearing about that because it’s so fascinating.”

Baritone showed bigger changes than Joe. Maybe because I knew him less in the beginning, but he had definitely changed. Confidence had replaced the confused Brainiac, and his body had filled out quite nicely. They were both stunningly handsome, confident in their own skin, and radiated love for each other. I felt the bottom of my stomach fall and my tears gush as I dropped my head and looked at my lap. I cried openly and Joe squeezed my hand encouraging me to let it out.

“Jamie’s dead. They took him a month ago and pressed him to service. He led his men into battle today, at Culloden Moore and he’s bleeding out on the field right now and doesn’t know how much I love him.”

It was the horrifying image in my head, all day, and I spoke of it before I knew what I was doing. I saw Joe reach into his pocket for a small bottle of pills while Baritone filled my glass with a shot of whisky. I picked my glass up, only to have Joe press it back to the table.

“Not so fast pet, we all need a glass so we can toast.”

Joe put something back in his pocket and filled the glasses, then we toasted to our safe landing while the tears continued to run down my cheeks. I noticed Murtagh was watching me and I tried to smile through my watery vision. I looked at him and saw Jamie right next to him smiling at me. He said, “I love ye, I need ye, please help me Sassenach.”

I gasped and shot up from the couch feeling my legs give way and strong arms pulling me up. I was in the dark feeling peaceful when I heard his beautiful voice. He was calling to me, asking for help, saying he didn’t want to leave me. I was face to face with Jamie in the blackness. He told me I was heroic today and he was never so proud. Then he told me that Donus and Brimstone would starve. He asked if I could take them to the new world. “Please Sassenach.” I promised I would. He told me to never return in the light of day, they were waiting for me, but it was safe at night. He touched my face.

“I will hang on until I know yer safe mo chridhe, save the horses.”

I fell into the black velvet and Jamie held my hand for a long time. "Wake Sassenach!" I sat upright on my bed blinking my eyes in the dark. I smelled Jamie and knew he was with me. I felt my way to the bag of stones thinking I would walk over hot coals to save the horses. When I felt two shards, I put them in my palms and closed my eyes concentrating on Lallybroch in 1745.

The wind lifted me and carried me far away very fast setting me down in the field near the house. I stayed low and worked my way to a tree behind the barn, watching. When I started to move to the barn, I heard Jamie’s voice say “wait!” I froze and dropped to the ground. A red coat came out of the house and pulled his horse that was tied in the dooryard. He mounted and rode away. I let out the breath I was holding and continued to watch. My fear was taking over and I shook with it. “Don’t be afraid, take the horses mo chridhe.”

I ran to the barn panting with the effort. I threw their tack on, saddles, pads, and bridles tying the reins in a knot. Then I attached leads to both, pulling them out of their stalls to stand in front of me. I placed a shard in each palm and pressed them against each horse's chest, concentrating on Lallybroch in 2019. I had wrapped the leads around my waist so they would not separate from me and quickly pulled the ropes away and led them to the barn. We were back and it was daylight. I carried buckets to an outside spigot and hauled the water back for them looking around for some stored food, finding none.

“I know you guys are hungry and I promise to get you food right away.” I hugged them both and left the barn, looking around the estate for the first time. The fields were planted! As far as the eye could see rows were plowed into the dirt in preparation for the spring seeding. Joe was a marvel with all he had done which included leasing the fields for planting. It was time to wake him up to find some food for the horses and people now in my charge.

I looked at the jeep parked on the side of the house, probably there to avoid shocking someone who wandered outside for some air. I smiled, which felt so foreign to my face. I was still high on Jamie helping me and looked up at the sky like I would see him looking down. I started to cry and forced myself to walk back to the house.

Murtagh was sitting in the kitchen with a beer and fruit juice opened in front of him. He startled when I walked in and his face looked so sad. He got up and hugged me for a long time. I knew both of our hearts were breaking and I hugged him back.

“The horses are here, in the barn. Jamie woke me up and said they were starving so I went and got them.”

Murtagh looked shocked and then stern. “No more of that lassie, home must be crawlin with red coats and what would we all do if you get yerself killed?”

“I am going to teach you what to do, just in case. Someone besides me needs to know the way back. Besides, I was safe with Jamie last night.”

Murtagh looked at her with sympathy and shook his head wondering why the stones allowed her passage when Jamie would be killed in less than two short years. He would choke the life out of the witch when he returned. “I’m goin out to check on the horses, lass.”

I felt Murtagh move away from me but didn’t hear where he was going. I built a fire to add some normalcy to the morning as people came downstairs after a night’s sleep. Misses Crook practically ran downstairs with a look of fear. She had slept right through the afternoon and evening and must have been startled in this strange place. I hugged her and begged her to relax and trust me. She walked into the kitchen and called me a few minutes later.

“I found no cauldren and where do I make the fire?”

“Well, they never make fires in the kitchen in this time.” I bent down to pull out the biggest pot in the cabinet and placed it on a burner. I opened all the cabinets looking for dried goods and soups. When I found the container of oatmeal, I read the directions, poured hot water into the pan and sprinkled a quarter of the oatmeal into the boiling water. Finding hot pads, I moved the pan to a cold burner and stirred the oatmeal. The whole operation took ten minutes.

Misses Crook watched everything I did and then looked into the pot and gasped. “What is this, magic? I’ll no be cavortin with the devil to make breakfast, ye can be sure of that.”

I stopped her gently and explained it was simply advanced technology and food science and had nothing to do with the devil. I filled a bowl for her and encouraged her to eat it. She was so overwhelmed, and I saw her eyes, red-rimmed, for the first time since our meeting a year ago. She was so scared and my heart broke for her.

“Let me show you how to make coffee. It’s fun and fast.”

I told her what to pull out, how to measure, and fill the pot with water, then pour it into the machine and turn it on. She seemed to do better when she was put to a task. I would have to remember that.

“Misses Crook, I brought the horses here last night and they are starving. I would bet a paycheck someone grew alfalfa in one of those fields last year.”

“What is a paycheck. What is alfalfa?”

“It’s horse food actually. When they harvest it, some people turn it into cubes with a large machine called a combine.”

I knew it was hopeless to make her understand such a leap in technology, so I grabbed her hand and pulled her outside. It was warm enough to go without cloaks, so I nudged her toward the field and started looking for the cubed food leftover from last year. I knew there was a lot of spillage and it would have been frozen through the winter. We might get lucky and find a field with leftovers from last year’s harvest. We hunted, crossing two fields before Misses Crook yelled for me. She held a perfect Alfalfa cube in her hand, and I let out a whoop with a smile.

It was on. Like an Easter egg hunt, we searched the field for more cubes. Murtagh came to ask what was lost and we filled him in. Misses Crook’s cheeks were pink from the cool morning and her excitement. Glavia waved her hand from the kitchen door and I ran for my daughter.

“What is happening in the field?”

“We discovered horse food cubes and the horses are starving.”

She watched Murtagh lift a cube in the air with a rare smile on his face. I sat on the stairs to the kitchen and laid Faith at my breast.

"Glavia, we could use your sharp eye to find more."

She was smiling with excitement and took off running for the field. As Faith filled her little belly, I watched the three of them get lost in this game with smiles and laughter making them forget for a little while.

“Morning Pet, how is my girl today, good?”

So like Joe to provide the only answer that was acceptable. He looked out at the field and three people dancing around holding something up in the air. He blinked several times and asked me what they were doing.

“I brought two starving horses back last night and they are finding food for them. It was a great thing you did, leasing out the fields for growing. You are brilliant Joe.”

He looked me in the eye for a long minute. “Are there two horses in that barn now?”

When I nodded yes, he took a deep breath. “Where did they come from?”

“I went back and got them because they would have died.”

Joe put up his hand to stop me and then put his hand around mine. “Pet, did you go back to 1745 last night to bring these horses back.”

“Yes.”

His eyes were closed for almost a minute as he wrapped his head around my truth. I realized he had believed everything I had told him so far. At least I thought he did.

“Take me, please.”

“I cannot during the day. There are many red coats waiting for me so we can only go at night. I will take you Joe.”

I felt a tear slide down my cheek and then another. My heart ached to kiss Jamie good morning and the pain that pressed on me, knowing I never would again, crushed me to my tears. I asked Joe to help in the field, looking for cubes. I needed to lay Faith down in her bed and then sob into a pillow.

Joe ran for the field and I carried Faith to her bed before laying in Jamie’s room where I let it go. My body shook with my sobbing and I felt a warm hand on my back that was so comforting and so familiar.

"Jamie! Jaaamiiiieee! I can’t bear this pain, I want to go with you! Please God let me die with him.”

I felt him pull me down and his warmth wrap around me. I could hear his breathing in my ear until I fell asleep, a dreamless, healing sleep that lasted for hours.

“Help me Sassenach.” I heard his voice in my dream and panicked myself awake. I sat up on the bed and noticed the room was darker with the late afternoon. I stumbled downstairs and blinked at everyone sitting in the kitchen together while Faith entertained. When she saw me her arms were raised. “ma-ma-ma-uppy”

I pulled her to my breast, wishing I could feel Jamie now, so he would know I was taking care of his daughter. Instead, I just blinked at everyone while Baritone filled the kitchen with the delicious smells of lasagna and garlic bread. I figured someone had gone shopping and wondered how the jeep was received.

“The horses,” I said as my memory of searching for food came back.

Misses Crook beamed and announced they had found enough cubes to last several days.

“I ordered from the feed store in Edinburgh Pet. It will be here tomorrow. I didn’t know what to get so I asked for grain, and hay.”

He was watching Faith nurse and I kissed his hand. “Thank you.”

A plate was set in front of me and I put a forkful in my mouth. It was so delicious I closed my eyes and I chewed while my mind filled with images of Jamie on the battlefield. My eyes slammed open and I shot out of my chair. How could I eat and enjoy food when Jamie never would again?

Faith was out for the night, so I made my way to Jamie’s bed, holding the pillow in front of me, clinging to it. I knew then I could not bear this pain for long. It would kill me and that would be a relief. Somewhere far away I heard the word “NO” whispered on the wind. I laid in the dark and prayed that Jamie would feel my love.

I was dreaming of teaching Faith to count hay cubes when I heard him, “Sassenach, wake up.”

I could not see the hand in front of my face it was so dark. My feet touched the floor and I felt him calling me back to Lallybroch. “Jamie, are you alive?” A whispered “help” was what I heard. I jumped off the bed and grabbed my bag stopping suddenly when Joe’s request came back to me. I searched the house for him finally finding the basement room that he converted into a bedroom. I approached the bed and touched Joe. He gasped and turned to see me.

“Pet.”

“I am going back tonight. Do you want to go?”

He was pulling his clothes on within seconds, feeling around for his shoes. He said nothing. He stayed very close, and when I told him to cling to me, he did.

The same rushing in my ears and feeling jettisoned away while I held tight to Joe’s arms. We landed in the field outside Lallybroch and I pushed Joe to the ground. He was hyperventilating and I whispered, “breathe slowly Joe.” I waited until his breathing normalized and felt him grip me in the pitch dark.

“Did we go back in time Pet?”

I had scanned the property looking for red coats and barely heard him. I could tell it was much later in the night when this land is devoid of movement or sounds from a human. My eye caught something new in the dooryard and I squinted to make the shape out.

“Help”

I took off running as fast as I could. Not looking for red coats, not caring if I was shot in the next minute. Jamie was in that shape, a wagon, asking me for help. I ran up on the wagon, left in the front of the house. I jumped inside and fell on his back, listening for breath. I knew there would be red coats laying in wait around the property, so I was silent. Joe was next to me somehow, he flipped Jamie over and felt his neck. He whispered in my ear, “take us all back right now Pet.”

I pulled Jamie onto my outstretched legs and linked my arm in Joe’s as the shard was pulled from my pocket and my eyes closed to the image of modern Lallybroch. As we were pulled away at warp speed I clung to Jamie and Joe, praying we found him in time.

In the yard of 2019 Lallybroch, Joe went to work on Jamie. He grabbed my hand and begged me to get Baritone and then go to my room. I took off for the lower bedroom bursting in to find Baritone sitting on the edge of the bed. I pointed, “Joe needs you, please.”

Baritone passed me in a streak and I stood there, panting, wanting to go to Jamie but Joe made me promise to stay away. He was already a doctor and I had to put my absolute trust in him. I waited until I heard them bring him in. It sounded like they were in the kitchen. My ears strained to hear each word and nuance and the tears came down.

“Jamie, can you hear me? Are you with me? Jamie!”

“I am fighting.”

I grabbed the wall as I spun to the floor. I heard Murtagh’s voice, yelling at Jamie and I couldn’t stand it anymore. I ran to the kitchen and saw all the men around Jamie. Baritone was doing chest compression while Joe was breathing for Jamie.

“Oh dear God,” I ran to the table where they had laid Jamie. On the other side of Joe, I put my mouth next to his ear and told him how proud I was that he survived and came back to me. I poured my love into his ear and did not let myself speak any negative, just encouragement to fight, for me, for Faith, for our promises. I did not notice all that Joe was doing and how Baritone and Murtagh were helping. I was alone with my husband speaking my love and my faith in him, feeling drunk on the hope he would take a breath on his own.

“Jamie?”

“My love.” Was but a whisper.

“Fill your lungs with air, RIGHT NOW!”

Jamie made a strangulated sound as his chest rose and he breathed deeply. Joe was overjoyed and pressed a stethoscope to his chest and pressed a finger to his neck.

I had pressed Jamie’s head against mine, like I wouldn’t allow him to leave me. With the jubilation in the kitchen, Jamie and I held each other in the blissful quiet of a secret place in my mind. His hands held me close, shaking at first, then gradually feeling stronger, possessive. He gripped me to him and whispered, “my beauty.”

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