#drawing jamie laughing healed my soul i love him so much :')

[rosynova]

some silly guy posting <3

[kkruml]

STAY CH 16

I am absolutely gobsmacked by all the love this wee story has gotten over time. I did not intend for it to take as long as it did to find the ending to this story, but alas, life and circumstances (and a f*cking pandemic) got in the way. BUT- it’s here. The final chapter. I hope you all have enjoyed the ride. This story started off as a prompt about a trope that I had always enjoyed but never considered writing. I am glad I took the leap and am forever grateful for the support and beta magic that are @abreathofsnowandwaffles​ and @missclairebelle​. Without you both I would never have attempted this. I love you both.

To everyone who has read, shared, and enjoyed (even a little!) this story, thank you.

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

AO3

Mood music

Previously

Whole.

The word danced around the corners of her mind. Her eyes shifted from him to the golden hues splashed across the sky. Was she whole? Twisting her wrist for inspection, she felt no sharp pain, just a dull ache from use.

No longer broken.

Now came the recovery. As a doctor she had seen the scans, she knew the rehabilitation trajectory. Yet here, with him, the statistics and analytical journal findings faded from mental view. Here, in this moment, she was simply Claire. With Jamie. Her Jamie. An overwhelming sense of calm washed over her.

“I think I know exactly what you mean,” drawing her gaze back to him, she exhaled contentedly. Instinctively, her hand reached out for his, taking it gently. “Thank you, Jamie.”

“Och, ‘tis nothing lass.” Dirt-stained fingertips pressed into her skin. His warmth encompassed her.

“Jamie…” she started, her eyes lowering to see their fingers intertwined. Blinking hard and tilting her face to meet his, she finished, “I don’t just mean for today.”

An echo of a smile tugged at his lips and he exhaled.

“Dinna fash, Sassenach,” His voice hummed, soft and tender. “There’s the two of us now.”

His words were so simple. But there was something in the blue of his eyes that spoke to the depth of his meaning. Her breath caught as she felt the same weight of prophecy to his words.

CLAIRE

Blue.

Whisky.

Stay.

The words whispered to her in a soft rhythm, beckoning her from sleep. One eye begrudgingly parted and she was blessed with the sight of Jamie’s face. His nose, straight and angled, thick stubble dappled his cheeks, and the line of his lips curled into a small smile while he slept. 

She had missed that quiet smile. 

It had been so long. Since the accident. 

She yearned for it. 

Ached for it.

Shifting slightly onto her side she felt his arm tighten around her waist, and a flutter of a giggle tickled her chest.

He had been gentle with her, almost too gentle. At first he kept a respectable space as to avoid injuring or jostling her arm, or pressing into her ribs as they healed. But then as days passed, they became hesitant with each other as a small crack formed and slowly spread to fill the space between, a sliver at a time. 

It had been weeks. But tonight, he had reached out to her in sleep. 

Perhaps it was the whisky from the hours earlier, or the heady tension between them as they traded glasses and slipped farther and farther into their own bubble, consumed by each other’s mere presence that she’d felt a shift between them. His warmth encompassed her and flushed her cheeks before dipping into her chest. She burned for his touch. Her fingers trembled as they slowly rose towards his face, before stopping just short of his jawline. She faltered for a moment, losing her nerve. 

What if he woke up? 

The thought lit the fire that had sunk just below her belly button and her lip quivered. The boldness she felt that night, all those months ago- that night he bared his soul to her, the night he told her about the accident- that strength had slowly faded from her with each passing day since her injury. 

Gently placing her hand back onto her side, her eyes traced the solid line of muscle from his shoulder down to his elbow. Perfect peaks and valleys were highlighted by the faint moonlight. Reveling in the knowledge that he was hers, she let out a satisfied sigh.

A glow from the bedside table caught her attention and she rolled her eyes. She knew who it was, and what the message said, and she silently cursed herself for the spontaneous text earlier. A moment of alcohol-induced bravery had prompted a bold proclamation. That tonight, she would reclaim that lost and most intimate connection with Jamie… in a somewhat less than mature manner of speaking.

Lifting the phone enough to see the screen, she caught the text that flashed.

    Have ye crawled out from under the Viking for air yet?

Geillis. 

To be honest, there were a few moments she thought that it might happen. Jamie’s gaze grew more menacing and his fingers lingered as they traced the lines of her hem at the small of her back, all the while whispering old stories of Lallybroch in her ear so close that she could taste the amber liquid on his breath. But then… after stumbling past the doorway into their bedroom, with fits of laughter breaking between them, they settled into a coy yet contented ball of sheets and blankets on the bed. 

She had welcomed the weight of his body against hers as their laughter softly echoed off the bedroom walls. But with a swift tug of the comforter beneath them, he had rolled clumsily onto her left side and the spell between them was broken. Stammering his way through an impassioned apology, he shifted his body, overcompensating for the contact and leaving ample space between them. The buzzing electricity between them simmered and the courage she’d come so close to wielding receded. After a few more gentle smiles and muttered apologies from Jamie, they both had drifted into blissful sleep. But that ache persisted, and it rose from a dull ache to a heady throb.  

With a half-hearted sigh, she tapped the screen to respond.

    Will catch up tomorrow. Too tired and too much whisky tonight ;)

Three bubbles quickly appeared on her screen as Geillis’s words flashed quickly.

    Aye. Too much ‘Whisky.’ As ye say. XO

That was not what she meant, but she didn’t correct Geilis. They would see each other tomorrow, and she would set the record straight then. Maybe. 

Struggling to settle her mind back into the quiet darkness of the room, she let her eyelids close and the words beckoned again.

Stay. Please stay.

Her fingers twitched. Her head swirled with the words, and then a melody slowly seeped in and clouded her thoughts. An almost torturous rhythm played over and over in her head, keeping sleep at bay and forcing out the memories of the night before. 

Sighing again, this time in resignation, she slowly slid off the bed. Gently moving his arm to rest on the space she had just vacated, she paused. Gazing at his perfect form in the tangle of sheets in their bed for a moment longer, she then turned on her heel and padded out of the room.

Where is that bloody guitar?

-

JAMIE

Claire.

Mmm. Feeling the warmth against his palm, he contracted his muscles and pulled a tangle of empty bed sheets against his chest. 

Where is she?

Thoughts came quickly, erratic and half-formed as he blinked the sleep from his eyes. 

His last vision of her was in bed next to him, a beautiful mosaic of dark curls and light skin, splintered in his mind but beautiful nonetheless.

It was still late… no- early? The soft morning light had not yet fully crept through the curtains, but it kissed the soft linen and a glow inched across the bedroom floor.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he could still, but barely, see her face as they stumbled into his, no their flat just hours before- lips parted in a beaming grin, eyes warm and glowing, curls spilling out of a bird’s nest atop her head. 

Having stopped at a local pub in a desperate attempt to prolong their evening, the memory of her leaning in closely as each drop of amber fluid eased the tension in her shoulders.  The heat on her breath as she whispered new Gaelic words she had been studying but never said aloud settled in his bones and burned just under the surface. The timidity between them had receded with every look, every brush of skin against each other. Like a balm on a healing wound, her every look and movement was a salve on his soul. 

Shaking his head, the memory slowly faded, and he blinked ruefully as it subsided. He heard a faint sound, a slight… plucking of strings? Moving quickly through the flat he eyed his guitar stand in the corner by the couch- empty.

His lip twitched and he fought the sensation. Doesna mean anything.. Or does it?

Grabbing the tumbled mass of tartan on the cushion, he slinked his way up the fire escape to the rooftop, following the sounds of his guitar as the notes tweaked and came into tune.

-

CLAIRE

There’s my C. Finally.

He said it would come with time, but neglected to mention just how tedious tuning a guitar could be. It always seemed to sing when he played, a natural extension of himself. 

Effortless. 

He was right.

A small echo of a laugh bubbled in her chest. He was always so sure when he spoke. Whether he was storytelling or gesticulating on the latest rugby match. There was a conviction in his words, and in this instance, she knew he was right. What the strings and pick are to him, a scalpel and needle are to her.

She plucked the string again. 

Bloody Scot was right. 

And she was grateful for it.

Letting out a quick breath into the crisp night air, her eyelids fluttered shut as the words undulated in her mind, like a tide rolling in. Growing closer, then receding before pushing closer and closer, she surrendered to the pulsating rhythm. 

With a quick roll of the wrist, and sigh of relief as it cooperated without sign of pain, she set her fingers against the strings. The words thrummed in her ears, echoing as the memory struggles to come into focus. 

“Nothing is lost… please stay.”

JAMIE

His breath caught as his eyes found her, freezing him. An unruly mess of dark curls cascaded around her, the wind toying with a strand as it twisted and fluttered in the air, the curves of her shoulders draped in his favorite rugby shirt.   

He stood breathlessly, watching as her hand absentmindedly grasped the errant lock and tucked it behind one ear. The movement was subtle, but made his heart pound. Her wrist, newly healed and etched with fresh scars, moved with an ease. There was a fluidity, an almost absent-mindedness he hadn’t seen in weeks.

Her chin was set in determination, her lower lip tucked between her teeth and head cocked as if the guitar was whispering its secrets to her. The curve of her back matched the line of his guitar, two of his favorite things molded into one.

A Dhia.

She was beautiful.

With a heavy exhale to take in the scene, his body rested against the metal railing. A high pitched creak filled the air and he watched as her face jerked toward him in panic. The current of gold in her eyes settled slightly as they fixed on him before igniting into a deep ember.

-

CLAIRE

His hair was tousled from sleep, but his eyes were electric, and the slope of his lips, parted as raspy breath escaped, filled her vision. The heat of his stare traveled down her throat with a hard swallow, descending into the depths just below her navel. Blinking hard to quell the feeling, she held her gaze, letting his beauty overtake her nerves.

“Are ye alright, mo nighean donn?” his voice cut through the darkness. It shook just slightly as the Gaelic punctuated his question, two fingers tapping against his thigh. 

My brown haired lass.  

She remembered the first time he’d called her that. He promised one day he’d tell her what it meant. Instead, she’d found them in an old, nondescript and dusty book on his shelf... or perhaps the words found her. She reveled in knowing what it meant as he’d whisper it in darkness, tender and soft. 

“Y-yes, quite,” she started as pulled herself back to the present. Letting a deep sigh encompass her, she met his eye. “Did I wake you?”

“Ach no, I just dinna...” he started as twitching fingers ran through his hair. “ I just… dinna sleep well wi’out ye with me.”

“Oh.” she said quietly, letting a small smile play at her lips as heat rose in her chest. “I wanted to show you something.”

One eyebrow quirked and with it came a breathtaking grin framed by fiery red hair and electric blue eyes. “I seem to recall ye said once that they let anyone play.”

-

JAMIE

“Och! You don’t need to ruin the moment,” she said with exasperation.

“Wai- what?”  His ears perked at the noise. Cocking his head to the side, he tried to find the words. “Was that...Did ye just-” 

With an exaggerated roll of her eyes, she countered, “Wot?”

“Tis nothing,” he started, recovering from his stumble. “That was just a decidedly Scottish sound there…” 

“I most certainly did not,” her voice stuttered on the last word, her eyebrows creasing as he watched her question her own words. 

Thank the laird for small miracles and glass faces.

“Are ye sure yer a Sassenach aft-after all?” A laugh rumbled from his chest as he moved toward her, “Ye do a fine version of a salty auld Highlander indeed.” 

“Well,” her lips parted in a conciliatory smile and her eyes glowed. “I seem to have learned from the best.”

A breeze filled the space between them and he caught her slight frame shiver.

“Are ye cold, Sassenach?” he asked, drawing out the last word for emphasis. She was an outlander, a most rare and precious gift. 

“I’m alright,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders, but there was no conviction behind her voice.

“Dinna be stubborn lass, I can hear yer teeth rattle from here.” He countered with an attempt at a wink. In truth, it was an excuse, any excuse to move closer to her. 

Her face softened and she sighed, nodding as she bit down on her lower lip. His eyes darted to her mouth, tracing every curve and line. His tongue reflexively darted out and licked his lips, aching to taste her breath against his skin. Balling his hands into fists to stop himself from reaching out to touch her face, his fingers dug into crumpled up fabric- the tartan soft and warm in his hand.

The tactile sensation brought him from his thoughts, and he held it out to her as he closed the space between them. His lips curled as he cocked his head, “After all… Ye canna bring dishonor on the Fraser colors, Sassenach.” 

“Oh mon dieu, first the Fréselière and now your clan’s colors and creed?” Her eyes were alight with humor as she turned to fully face him, his guitar shifting in her lap. She inhaled sharply, her eyes intent and glowing, “My hands seem to be full at the moment... might you help?”

He stood still, surprised for a moment but swallowed hard and gathered up the material in both hands. Timidly, he wrapped his arms around her, her hair tickling his nose as he leaned in close.

Pressing against him softly, her voice was low and heavy as she said, “Thank you.”

Giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze, he set himself on the seat next to her- close but not quite touching. “Ach, so ye had something to play then, aye?”

“Well it’s just the start of something, I think,” she mumbled.

The familiar chords echoed between them as she hummed the melody. Had he played that for her before? He didn't think he had?

-

CLAIRE

She pulled her eyes from her fingers as they pressed into the cords to find his gaze heavy on her. She hummed for a few beats and then with eyes closed she exhaled with contentment. 

“Clear blue….” she breathed, waiting for the next chord progression to continue with a disjointed “world of whiskey.” The strings vibrated against her fingertips before she whispered the lines that had repeated over and over in her mind, “Nothing is lost… Please stay.”

Slowly, she opened her eyes to see him staring at her. His hands were clasped together tightly, fingernails dug slightly into ruddy, sunkissed skin.

“I wasn’t sure.. I mean, it’s-” she was suddenly shy, embarrassed. It was absurd to try to explain, the words just… were to her.

His face was frozen and his lower lip quivered. With a low, shaky voice he asked, “Where did ye find those words?”

“They just…” she started. Without thinking she continued, the words tumbling out of her, “They just came to me. I think it was a dream. I was drowning, and then I saw... light. Wings. And then a voice asking me to stay.”

“Mo Chridhe,” his voice was almost a whisper, each word quiet but strong. “That was me.”

She struggled to understand the pain in his voice. “You?”

Fragmented time flashed through her mind. Her father, the heron’s wings. The tattoo. The flutter of wings in her ears as she lay in that bed. Through it all, the words, those words- they cut through the noise. 

It was him.

-

JAMIE

He watched her, waiting. The realization flashed across her face.

Her voice was almost a whisper, but her eyes were a smoldering amber.  Her voice was sure, true. “It was you.” 

She remembered.

The weeks lost to the accident and the uncertainty of what was to come when she couldn’t remember- the truths they had shared… it was still there. A weight lifted from his chest and he exhaled for what felt like the first time in weeks.

Whatever it was between them, that awful night hadn’t stolen it from them. As she had lain, still and broken, in that hospital bed amidst a rhythmic beeping of machines and hushed voices in the hallway, he had sung to her. 

And she had heard him.

“It was me,” he said simply, wanting to repeat those words over and over again. Inching close, eyes trained on her, he let the echo of a smile pull at his lip. “I had trouble finishing the line.”

The whisky in her eyes burned as her chest heaved with effort. The gravity of the moment threatened to crumble her facade, and she struggled to keep her tone light, “Yes, you did.”

The confirmation sent a shock wave through him. “So, Sassenach…” he let his voice fade as he contemplated. His voice hung between them, both unsure of how to speak.

-

CLAIRE

His voice was low, his irises almost black. “How does it end then?” 

The silence throbbed between them like a heartbeat. The weight of his question lingered. Seemingly innocent on the surface, the deeper meaning reverberating between them. 

With a small smile, her fingers touched the strings. Without breaking eye contact, she lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders. 

“Your face is my heart and the love of you…” she paused, wanting the words to ring true. Her hand twitched and curled to find the strings without difficulty as she finished, “My soul.” 

The chord hung between them, the vibration echoing against her skin. Without looking away, she gently set the guitar down as the note dissipated and scattered into the air. The wind whipped between them, the familiar scent of linen, sandalwood and him struck her as she watched him, waiting.

“I thought I’d lost ye,” his voice was gravely as it tumbled out of him, carrying the weight of the last several weeks. His eyes were focused on a point in the distance. When he pulled his gaze to her, she saw a pool of tears threatening to brim over. Speaking the truths he’d hidden even from himself, his voice broke as he said, “First wi’ the accident and then ye lost sae many memories of… us. I just couldna bear it- losing ye, losing us.”

“Jamie…” her chest constricted as she watched his face contort and relive that night.

-

JAMIE

“I dinna ken what I’d do wi’out ye. I was born-” He felt the desperation in his voice, but he couldn’t stop it. She had to know. Had to understand. She needed to feel the love that nearly burst out of his chest, and the agony he’d kept at bay these last long few weeks. He pushed his fingers through his curls as the words spilled out in fragments, “I  was- I c-cannae explain it I just… just….  Christ!”

All the words he needed to say came crashing down in his mind and he couldn’t form a single thought to sort them out. He stood helplessly, two digits thrumming against his leg.

Her tone was low as she peeked through furrowed brows and dark lashes, “... I was born for you?”

“Aye,” His eyes darted to her face, the air ripped from his lungs. “How did ye know?”

“Jamie…” her voice was small but warm.  “I’ve whispered those same words.. I’ve known that every day since I met you.”  

“Claire,” his voice coiled around her name, reveling in the sound. His fingers twitched again as he raised his hand to her face, cupping the smooth porcelain of her cheek.

-

CLAIRE

Feeling the dam break, she leaned into his touch. “Bha mi gad ionndrainn.”

His hand sunk into her hair, pulling her to him. Grasping his forearms, she pressed her forehead to his. “I’ve missed you, too.”

His breath was heated against her cheek, a faint scent of whisky lingered between them. Her fingers slowly lifted to trace the line of his jaw, the stubble coarse against her skin. They settled just below his jawline, feeling his pulse quicken against her fingertips. Tentatively, she lifted his face to meet hers, and it was breathtaking. Dark flecks interrupted the turbulent blue in his eyes, and they trained on hers with a weight that ignited a fire in her chest.

“I would like-” he started, his voice raspy and raw. His skin was almost vibrating with need. “-Very much to kiss you. May I?”

An ache pulled deep in her belly as she struggled to focus on the words- the anticipation filling her senses. Struggling to focus, she blinked hard and smiled, “You may.”

His fingers intertwined in her hair as he leaned in, soft yet firm. With a final sigh, she closed her eyes and tilted her chin to meet his. His lips were warm and full, quickly molding to hers. With two more movements her tongue was tracing his lip and as she felt them part, she pushed against him with arms snaking around his neck.

Tongues pulsed and kneaded against each other as her hands found his hair as his arms circled around her waist. His fingers urgently sought her skin, pressing into the flesh at the small of her back as she arched into him. The aching need of the past weeks melted away with every movement and every ragged breath between them.

-

JAMIE

Every thought scattered. There was nothing but her. She filled every sense. The lavender of her shampoo, the velvety touch of her skin against his fingertips as he pulled her closer, the sound of her exhale as she reignited their kiss. He needed her now.

 For all the time and distance and tentative silence that had grown between them, speaking was now unnecessary. 

He needed to show her the way he loved her. Struggling for composure, one hand snaked up into her hair and he pulled back his lips and held her in place. 

Her lips were swollen, cheeks flushed and beautiful. Her eyes were a fiery gold and glistened with a thin film of tears. 

Sorcha.

Sassenach.

Claire.

She was his, he was hers. Shattered apart, a beautiful mosaic of both pain and triumph together. They fought for this. They earned this. 

Her breath was shaky but her voice was calm, “Will you have me?”

The gold specks in her eyes burned like embers as she held his gaze. His skin pulsed with electricity as her fingers lifted the tartan to cover his shoulders. Leaning forward and gently lowering her to the ground, he felt the soft warmth of her body beneath her and he knew he was home. She was home to him. 

“Yes,” he whispered as the heat in his chest reverberated out into his fingertips. 

He would have had her, any part of her, in any way he could- even the quiet, timid moments of the past few weeks where he had scarcely dared to touch her. But here, now, he saw that each crack and fracture she had endured had only healed stronger. Made more beautiful by the very lines of black etched into her skin, the flap of a heron’s wing flashed before his eyes before fading into the vision of her face.

He pressed against her as he lowered his face to hers.  “Yes, I’ll have you.”

Now and forever.

[jamiemackenziefraser]

All That Was Fair 

Chapter 19: Merry of Soul

Summary: Claire and Jamie begin to settle in with each other, and Claire continues to experience human oddities.

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Read chp 19 on tumblr below the cut

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Chapter 19: Merry of Soul

***

If Jamie thought Claire had been touchy before, nothing compared to the amount of contact they had now that they were together. Her hands— or lips— were all over him at the most unexpected moments (and the expected moments as well, to be fair). Not that Jamie was complaining. Though every bit of contact still brought a blush to his cheeks and made his heart race so fast it could have torn out of his chest, he never wanted her to stop. 

It had been two days since the fateful trip to Craigh na Dun and the following declarations of love. Two days since she’d decided to stay with him— bloody fool that he was. Two days of bliss with the love of his life. 

He’d left her that morning still asleep in their (their!) room. Her limbs had been strewn all over the place, making her look like a starfish sprawled on the bed. After disentangling himself from underneath her wee but aggressive arm, he’d placed a kiss to her temple, smiling with contentment that she was his to wake up to and kiss every morning. 

Standing then in front of the stove, flipping his pancakes absently, he thanked God for the blessing of her. He breathed in a long sigh and tried to fully appreciate the perfection of his life. 

The quiet was interrupted by a pair of arms snaking around his waist, making him jump. 

“Did you forget about me?” A silky voice asked, lips brushing the back of his ear and sending a shiver down his spine. Claire must have been standing on her tiptoes to reach him. 

He placed his own hands over top of hers, hugging her arms, and swayed slightly back and forth to take her with him where she was pressed against his back. Affection welled up inside him, so strong that he was nearly overcome. 

“I couldna forget ye, mo chridhe. I only didna want tae wake ye up. Ye looked sae bonny and peaceful.” 

“You should have. I don’t like being in the… what is it called again?—” 

“Bed,” Jamie answered automatically.

“Bed. I don’t like being in bed without you. Besides, I quite like how you wake me.” 

A blush rose in Jamie’s cheeks as he thought about how he’d kissed her awake the past two mornings. He loved seeing her sleepy eyes open and her smile as she met the day with the sight of him. How her lips would grow more eager as she regained consciousness… 

“I’m verra sorry for leavin’ ye,” he apologized, turning around in her arms so he could loop his own around her waist, “whatever can I do tae make it up tae ye?” 

Claire hummed, looking exaggeratedly thoughtful, and then tapped a finger on her cheek expectantly. 

Happy to oblige, Jamie leaned down and placed a kiss at the indicated spot. Claire smiled in response, looking like a cat that got the cream. She then tapped the other cheek, and Jamie was quick to give it the same treatment, this time letting his lips linger for a long moment. Her smile widening, she pointed to her forehead. 

“Awfully demanding, are ye no’?” Jamie accused warmly before pressing an obedient kiss there. 

Claire just murmured an assent— apparently completely willing to own it— before her wee finger was placed over her lips. 

It took Jamie only the length of a heartbeat to cover her mouth with his own, uncaring of trivial things like morning breath or whether or not Claire would be able to taste the residual pancake batter on his lips. If she could, she didn’t mind, because she spent the next minute withdrawing half a centimeter only to kiss him again, her tongue less than timid as she indulged herself. He found it unreasonably enjoyable, and his hand wandered up to cup the back of her head to keep her mouth on his. 

Her appreciative murmur vibrated his lips, and that only served to encourage him all the more. 

But he was interrupted from his task by Claire drawing back enough to gasp, “do you smell that?” 

Tearing his eyes away from her puffy lips, he turned around toward the stove to see that his pancakes— really now more black lumps— had smoke rising from them in active billows. 

“Christ!” he swore, at the same time as the smoke detector began to go off. 

At the shrill noise, Claire let out a startled cry and smacked her hands over her ears. Jamie didn't have time to reassure her as he lunged toward the burning pancakes and tore them off the heat. He juggled them with one hand and turned on the fan with the other before shutting off the stove. With everything going wrong, of course it was that very moment when the handle of his old pan decided to snap, and the bowl of the pan (smoking pancakes included), started to fall. On instinct, Jamie grabbed for it with his free hand. Pain shot through him on contact, and he hissed as he jerked his hand away, allowing the damn thing to tumble to the ground. He jumped out of the way, smashing into Claire, who still was holding her hands over her ears and looking terrified. 

Exclaiming some rather colorful words, Jamie reached out his not burnt hand to steady Claire.

“Sorry, lass. It’s okay, dinna fash,” he said with a raised voice over the obnoxious beeping of the fire alarm directly over their head. 

“What’s that sound?” Claire yelled out, looked very distressed with her wide eyes and hunched shoulders. 

“It’ll stop in a second,” he shouted. 

Sure enough, as the smoking mess on the floor subsided, the smoke detector went quiet. Jamie breathed a sigh of relief. 

Claire, the poor thing, looked nearly ready to cry. 

“It was jes’ the smoke alarm, mo nighean donn,” he tried to reassure, “the sound makes sure that I ken there’s a fire so I can put it out.”

“I did not like that,” she said with a shake of her head, shuddering. 

“I’m sorry, a leannan, come here.”

Drawing her close, Jamie gave his faerie a cuddle. She melted into him, and the tension flowed from her muscles as soon as he enveloped her. It made Jamie swell with a certain satisfaction to comfort her over something so trivial, as if he were some knight in shining armor who’d rescued the fair maiden from the beastly alarm— only he’d actually been the one to cause it in the first place and he hadn’t done anything but make a mess while trying to solve it. 

As if suddenly remembering, or perhaps she could sense the slight sting in his fingers, Claire drew back and exclaimed, “give me your hand!”

Smiling but a bit nervous, Jamie held out his hand for her. He watched with anticipation as the soft golden light emanated from her hands as they formed a cup around his. This time, instead of watching the light, he turned his head up to look at Claire’s face. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, lines etched in her face as she focused all her energy. She blinked hard once, shook her head, and went back to staring down at their joined hands. Jamie felt the tingling warmth flow through him, making his hand buzz with energy. The pain began to subside, and the determined expression on her bonny features eased. After half a second more, the light faded from her palms. She didn’t let go, but stroked his now perfect fingers between her hands. 

To add the finishing touch, she brought his hand to her lips and began to kiss each finger one by one. Her lips were soft; her kisses more healing than even her energy. 

“Ye make a good nurse,” Jamie said in a gravely tone, enraptured by her gentle touches. 

“Hmmm?” she murmured, still focused on her task. Finishing with his pinky, she curled his fingers down and pressed one last feather-light kiss to his knuckles.  

“Ye’re a fine healer, Sassenach,” Jamie amended. He brought his newly healed finger tips up under her chin and tilted her face up toward him. “And I’m verra grateful ye’re mine.” 

He leaned in to give her a proper kiss. She didn’t respond as enthusiastically as usual, but her lips molded to his and in a passive sort of way. He chalked it up to her nerves over the alarm and concern over his injury, but it still disturbed him because she had never responded in this way. 

Following his resolution to communicate better, he pulled back and asked while cupping her face with a tender hand, “are ye alright, mo chridhe?” 

The smile she mustered seemed forced, which didn’t do much to ease his worries. “I’m fine,” she said, “just felt strange for a second, it’s nothing.”

He kept studying her for another long second, but she remained firm in her statement without adding anything else. With a dip of his shoulders, he decided to let it go. 

“I’m sorry about that, my sweet one,” he said with a self-deprecating shake of his head, “I didna mean for all this chaos this morning.” 

“It’s not your fault, Jamie,” she countered. The newly growing smile seemed much more genuine again as she added, “I probably shouldn’t have distracted you while you were making…”

“Pancakes,” Jamie filled in. 

“Pancakes,” she echoed, looking thoughtful. 

She was trying to learn words as much as she could, and Jamie found that he quite liked his role as tutor. At least he quite liked rewarding her for her learning of new vocabulary. 

“And the word for the first meal of the day, do ye recall?” he quizzed. 

Looking up at him with a triumphant expression, she exclaimed, “breakfast.”

“Mmmm,” he hummed approvingly, “that’s verra good.” 

He leaned down and gave her a soft, gentle peck on the lips, and as he drew back, he found she was smiling. 

“You’re a very good teacher, you know,” she said, “maybe soon I’ll start teaching you another language and see if you’re as good of a student. Which one would you prefer?” 

Jamie laughed, “maybe we take it one step at a time. I can barely keep up wi’ things as it is. Maybe we start wi’ fair folk culture and go on from there.”

“Deal,” she agreed. 

“Anyway,” he said, marveling a little at her ability to get him sidetracked, “it seems my breakfast has been ruined. Perhaps ye’ll give me a wee moment tae grab somethin’ else?”

“Hmmm,” Claire looked gravely ponderous as she considered his request, “I suppose I’ll allow it just this once.” 

Jamie rolled his eyes with a smile that betrayed how happy moments like these made him. He took a step away from her, already mourning the loss, and headed over to the pantry. 

As he stood debating between the merits of cereal or a granola bar (both required no cooking, thank you very much), hands suddenly snaked their way under his shirt. He stiffened in surprise at first, and then relaxed as the hands started to stroke up and down the length of his back. 

He shot a glance over his shoulder to see Claire behind him looking innocently up at him. He raised a brow. 

“What are ye doin’, lass?” he asked. 

She gave a little shrug but did not remove her hands. “Touching you.” 

There’s his faerie. 

“Is that no’ what got us in trouble in the first place?” 

She gave a little hum that said I can’t argue with that, but then countered, “I don’t think I care.” 

Forgetting all about breakfast, Jamie whirled around. He grabbed the backs of her legs and hoisted her up into his arms. She let out a squeal but quickly got with the program, wrapping her legs around Jamie’s middle and her arms around his neck. 

As he held her tightly against him, their fronts smashed together, he turned his face to catch her mouth and kiss her fervently. Those perfect lips against his seemed almost victorious as she pressed them to his just as passionately. A hum of satisfaction rose from her, making Jamie nearly drop her with how watery it made his legs. 

After a long moment of enjoying her mouth against his, he finally drew back. 

“I dinna ken how every time I kiss ye it feels like the first time,” he breathed. 

“And I don’t understand how the first time I kissed you it felt like the hundredth time,” she agreed. 

“Hey,” he said suddenly, smiling so hard his face felt like it would split and tightening his grip on her thighs, “I love you, you know that?” 

“I love you, James Fraser,” she replied, her gaze soft with adoration. 

Jamie went to put her down then, releasing his grip on her legs and expecting her weight to drop off of him. Only instead of her legs unwrapping from his waist and her hopping down, she clung to him stubbornly. 

As he brought his hands far out to the each side to marvel at the barnacle that seemed to be glued to him, Claire tightened her hold. 

“A leannan,” he chuckled, “are ye no’ getting down, then?” 

“Don’t think so,” she said from where her face was pressed into his neck. 

He let out a very Scottish noise from deep in his throat. With one hand, he held her against him just to keep her steady, and with the other, he turned back to the pantry and began rooting through the items. 

He withdrew victorious with a granola bar from the package, and he held it up behind him to the wee faerie. 

“Care tae help me wi’ this seein’ as I only have one hand at the moment?” 

“Of course, darling,” she obliged. 

One of her hands reached out to grab it. Still keeping both arms around his neck, she somehow managed to tear open the package (much like a child would— she still hadn’t gotten that human task down) and then handed it back to him. 

It was beginning to get real to Jamie just how little personal space he would ever have again. 

And he loved it. 

“Thank ye, wee one,” he said before taking a bite. Curious fingers began to thread into his hair as he did, making it extremely hard to concentrate on the simple task of breakfast. Fingertips pressed delightfully into the nape of his neck and tangled into the soft curls there. 

His throat felt tight as she caressed him, making it hard for him to swallow. It wasn’t his fault that her every brazen touch turned him into a besotted sap… 

“Are ye going tae go through my whole mornin’ routine wi’ me?” he asked, shoving the last of the granola bar into his mouth, still rooted in the same spot by the pantry. 

Christ, this lass made it impossible for him to eat a meal slowly and in peace. Impatient thing. 

The fingers paused their exploration. “Most certainly.” 

“Well, we might as well have some fun wi’ it then. I ken ye dinna need it because ye dinna eat, but would ye care tae learn how tae brush yer teeth?” 

She drew back so she could look at him with eyes alight with curiosity. “What’s that?” 

“Ye’ll see.” 

*

Upstairs in the bathroom, Jamie somehow managed to detach his clingy faerie. She let go reluctantly, dangling her feet down and allowing Jamie to deposit her onto the ground. Once he was free, he stooped down to find a new toothbrush from the cabinet. Finding one from the dentist a few months ago, he let out an aha and held it triumphantly up to Claire. 

“And you use that on your teeth?” she asked warily. 

“Aye. It’s called a toothbrush. Watch.” 

Demonstrating with his own toothbrush, Jamie wet it before applying toothpaste and sticking it in his mouth. In what was likely a comical expression, he bared his teeth and exaggeratedly brushed the bristles over it. 

Claire was giving him a look of distaste and near horror that made his wame twitch with hilarity. 

He switched his brushing to go further back into his mouth, making her eyes go even wider. 

“Are you sure this is nothing like eating?” she asked, apparently still a bit traumatized from the incident with the spaghetti that first night.

“No,” Jamie laughed through the toothpaste in his mouth, “it jes’ cleans yer teeth after ye’ve eaten. Ye dinna actually swallow the toothbrush.” 

He rinsed and spit before straightening up to face a still dubious Claire. 

“Ready tae try, lass?” 

She wrinkled her nose a little but gave a nod. 

Jamie prepared her toothbrush for her. As he approached her, she eyed him with a wide eyed look of apprehension mixed with curious excitement. She opened her mouth tentatively like a nervous child at the dentist. 

He cupped his free hand around the back of her head, his thumb making soothing circles. Then, slowly, so as not to startle her, he placed the bristles onto her teeth. 

It was his expectation that she’d jerk away in disgust the moment it touched her, but she stayed still. He gently moved the bristles back and forth, very lightly over her front teeth, and she blinked rapidly and sucked a sharp breath in through her nose. 

“Alright, lass?” he asked with a smile as she froze underneath his hand. 

She gave a nod, and he continued, rubbing the toothbrush just over the front of her teeth. He felt it as she relaxed, the buzzing tension easing as she came to the realization that this was, in fact, not torture— nor anything like eating. 

She made a “huh” sound from deep in her throat, and Jamie withdrew the toothbrush so she could speak. 

“It feels… kind of nice,” she said slowly. 

“Aye. I ken ye dinna really need tae clean yer teeth since ye dinna eat to dirty them in the first place, but…” he eyed her with a gleam in his eye and a smirk, “if ye’re gonna be puttin’ that mouth on me all day long, ye might as well taste minty fresh.” 

To his great enjoyment, Claire flushed, looking at the same time like she felt embarrassed and also wanted to kiss him some more. 

“Here, lass,” he said, “wash yer mouth out.” 

He handed her a cup of water, and she mimicked what he had done earlier and rinsed.  

Once she was done, she straightened up and looked at him expectantly, as if there was some last step to be completed. 

“Now,” Jamie said, the corners of his mouth pulling up, “I’ll find out how ye taste, aye?”

***

Next

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Prompt: A woman of substance.

It Does My Heart Good: Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3

Brianna neatly fanned a sheaf of papers across the desk in John Grey’s study, and turned to a fresh page in her notebook.

“All right. Tell me everything you remember about her.”

Jamie raised a skeptical eyebrow. “I could go on for hours, lass. She was my first love - my only love, if ye can believe it.”

Brianna smiled. “I want to know all about that, too. It - it’s a great comfort to know that I come from love.”

Jamie set down his tumbler of whisky and reached across the table, taking his daughter’s hand. “You come from the greatest, most powerful love that could ever be felt on God’s earth, a nighean. Your mother and I - we shared a soul.” He swallowed. “God help me - I’ve never stopped loving her. And I won’t lie to ye - I’m deathly afraid that even if we do find her, she’ll have….moved on. Married another man.”

“Even if she did - there can be no way she forgot you.”

He sighed deeply. “I’m no’ saying it would be accidental - it would be deliberate. I gave her such joy, and then we shared such pain.”

She squeezed his hand. “Why did she come to Glasgow to begin with?”

“She was an exchange student at the University of Glasgow. She was studying here in Boston - Harvard. Pre-med. She had an opportunity to study abroad for a year, to continue her studies in the UK.”

“I didn’t know she was at Harvard.” Still holding her father’s hand, she scribbled a few words in the notebook.

Jamie’s eyes widened. “Ye’re left-handed, lass?”

Brianna looked up. “I am.”

He swallowed. “So am I.”

She smiled. “I’m glad to know it. Was Claire left-handed, too?”

“No - she’s right-handed. Though I do remember her saying that her mother had been left-handed.”

Brianna wrote that down, too. “Did she ever tell you the names of her parents?”

“Her father’s name was Henry, I remember that. Her mother - I canna remember her name. She rarely spoke of them. They were killed in a car crash when she was five.”

Brianna set down her pen and dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “That’s so sad.”

“Aye - she had to be very strong from such a young age. She was an only child. And because I had lost my own Mam so young, too - it bound us together.”

“But who raised her?”

“Ah. Her father’s brother - Uncle Lamb. I dinna ken if that is a nickname, a first name, or a surname. But I do ken he was a professor at Harvard. Either archaeology or anthropology. She grew up following him around on digs. He loved her very much, and cared for her. Encouraged her to follow her passions.”

Brianna took up her pen and wrote this down. “This is great - really, really great. Was he still alive when you knew Claire?”

“He was. He would write her letters every week, and I remember a few times when I’d come to her dormitory to see her, she’d be on the telephone in the lobby, speaking wi’ him.” Jamie paused, eyes unfocused, lost in his memories. “From what she told me, he was quite eccentric. As far as I know he never married, or had children of his own. But he loved Claire, more than anything.”

“I wonder if he knew about me.”

Jamie’s eyes focused on Brianna. “Oh, he must have. When Claire left Glasgow to return to Boston, her plan was to live with Uncle Lamb until you were born. She - she felt safe wi’ him. She knew he would care for her. And I’d bet any amount of money that he was there when you were born, and helped her care for you until you went to live wi’ the Greys.”

“He sounds like an amazing man.”

Jamie nodded. “I always wish that I could have met him. To thank him for raising Claire, of course - but more importantly, to thank him for caring for her, and for you, when I couldn’t.”

Brianna scribbled down another note. “So - if Claire was a pre-med student at Harvard, and she returned to Boston in the spring…”

“She returned on April the 16th,” Jamie interjected. “She was five months along wi’ you. I went wi’ her to the airport.” He sighed. “The worst day of my life. Much worse than being in prison.”

Brianna watched him in silence, processing his memories.

“We had met in the University’s medical clinic. I’d been in a fight wi’ some lads, and my shoulder was out of joint. She fixed it. And the last time I saw her, she tried to make a joke. She…she told me to mind my shoulder.” Tears raced down his cheeks. “I didn’t laugh, and she didn’t either. But that’s so typical of her - wanting to draw attention away from herself. Taking care of others.”

“Do you think she finished her studies?”

“Oh, I’m certain of it. I’m certain she graduated from Harvard with flying colors, and then went on to medical school. By the grace of God, I hope she’s had a verra successful career.” He rubbed at his eyes. “Caring for others - healing others - that was her calling in life. And I ken she would have been the best mother. But I’m sure ye understand why that didna come to pass.”

“I do.” She squeezed his hand. “I really do. I’m so, so happy to learn about her from you. How she’s a true woman of substance.”

“That, and a lot of other things.” He cleared his throat. “What else can I help ye with? Do ye ken her birthday and such?”

“I do - it’s on my birth certificate. When I contacted the adoption agency, they gave me all the papers in my file. It wasn’t very extensive - my birth certificate, my medical evaluation when I was eight weeks old. A log of all the notes and photographs my parents sent the agency over the years, to pass along to Claire.” She sighed. “The file also indicated that the agency had lost contact with her many years ago. They provided the last address on file for her - but it was a post office box. Not traceable.”

“Mmphmm.” Jamie sipped his whisky. “I brought wi’ me the picture she sent me of you as a baby, and I kept the envelope wi’ her return address. Though she must be long gone from there by now. I dinna ken how useful this information I’ve given ye will be. But maybe it’s a start?”

“Oh, definitely! Just knowing she was at Harvard, that her uncle was at Harvard, and her father’s name - those are huge, huge clues. Mom’s sister works at Harvard - through her, we can find someone who can help us find the right records.”

“That’s wonderful, Brianna. I - I canna tell ye how proud I am of you. That you would care enough to find me - and then to bring me here. I - I feel so honored. Me - a rough-and-tumble Glaswegian, a criminal, a - ”

“Nonsense. You’re none of that. You’ve done many things in your life - but that’s all in the past. And don’t forget, you made good choices, too. You chose Claire. And the two of you chose me.”

“Aye, I suppose we did.” He sat up a bit straighter in his chair. “Do ye think we can call yer Mam’s sister in the morning?”

[bee-kathony]

Four Years | Year Three “March 3rd, 2016″ 

a/n: thank you all for the response to the last chapter! it was very touching to hear so many of your own stories <3 the fraser’s have had a tough go of things, but stick with me! 

Year One | Year Two

January 9th, 2016 | January 24th, 2016

March 3rd, 2016

Jamie’s POV

It’s been thirty-eight days since we went to the hospital and Claire has barely spoken more than a few sentences to me. I see it in her eyes — the hurt, the wall she’s built around herself. When she had the brain tumor, not even on her worst days was she a shell of who she once was.

I laid by her night after night, stroking her back as she fell asleep, bringing her ice to keep her body cool. I’d held her hand when she had her chemotherapy and I’d made sure she had drank enough water that day. No matter what I did now, there was nothing I could do to help my wife.

She was lying in our bed, curled on her side, but I knew she wasn’t asleep. It was only 4pm. About a week ago, her tears had stopped and now she was almost like a zombie — no signs of life.

Jenny, Murtagh, Joe and Geillis had all come over in shifts to help with Fergus. There was still a lot I was learning about taking care of a two year old. When he would cry or refuse to eat, I would sigh and run my fingers through my hair. Claire would have known, she would have figured out what to do. That was the worst of it — she was missing out on Fergus’ first few weeks, nearly months now of him being a part of our family.

The doctors told me not to push her though, to let her rest as much as she needed. Her body had been through something painful and horrible, but I knew it would heal as it had before. It was her mind and soul that I was worried about now.

“Claire,” I said softly and knelt down in front of her, stroking her curls off her forehead. Her eyes met mine, glassy and emotionless. “Do you want a bath? I can draw ye one, Fergus just went down for a nap.”

I waited for her to respond and just when I thought she wouldn’t, I saw the smallest nod from her.

“Stay there, Sassenach. I’ll turn on the water,” I smiled and kissed her cheek. It hurt to see her in so much pain and not know what to do. I missed my wife — I missed her spirit and her fire. I was afraid that she wouldn’t be able to find her way back to me.

Walking into the bathroom, I dimmed the lights and then turned on the water. Claire always had oils and bubbles that she liked so I added a bit of those in too. After lighting the candles around the edge of the bath, I walked back into our room.

“It’s almost ready, come on then,” I stroked her arm and then helped her to sit up. I would have carried her but thankfully she rose on her own and I led her to the bathroom. When she had been her sickest, I had helped bathe her like I was about to now. Even then… she still felt like my Sassenach.

I pulled her shirt off over her head, tossing it in the laundry basket followed by her sweats and panties. Her stomach was almost back to being completely flat as it had been before the pregnancy. Claire’s hands wrapped around it now, her head dipping low and I stepped forward, taking her in my arms.

“Shhh, a nighean,” I rubbed her bare back. “It’s goin’ to be alright, love.”

“How do you know?” She whispered. I’d almost forgotten what her voice sounded like.

Pulling back, I put one hand under her chin, “Ye’ve been through so much, Claire. More than most can bear and I ken that ye’ll get through this as well. Yer heart is hurting and mine is too, but yer strong, ye ken?”

“No,” she said quietly and turned towards the bath. “I’m not strong. I couldn’t even grow a baby inside me properly.”

“Sassenach,” I sighed, walking over to her to help her climb into the bath. “Claire… this isn’t your fault. You have to know that, tell me ye understand that this isna yer fault?”

As she sank down into the water, her eyes stayed focused on the wall in front of her. She clearly wasn’t going to answer my question. I bent down on my knees and scooped water to pour over her head.

“I can bathe myself, Jamie,” she muttered, turning to reach for the shampoo. “You can go do something you like.”

“Mo ghraidh,” I touched her shoulder and she shut her eyes.

“I need to be alone,” she whispered. “Please.”

“Okay, okay,” I stood back up and walked to the bathroom door, pausing as I looked at her curled up in the tub. “Let me know if ye need anythin’.”

++++++

Fergus had been shy at first, always hiding his face in my shoulder, especially when he met new people, but now he was slowly opening up. I was usually the only one he would let hold him, but Jenny had just come over to drop off dinner and he was crawling all over her.

“Fergus, get off yer auntie,” I laughed.

“Non!” He giggled and continued to run a circle around her. Of course, Jenny loved it, having five bairns of her own, she was used to this. I on the other hand was exhausted. Between taking care of him and making sure he was acclimating well to his new environment and keeping an eye on Claire, I had barely slept.

“The lad is verra playful,” Jenny smiled, reaching out and capturing him in her arms. “And the curliest wee hair I’ve ever seen. A lot like yers, Jamie.”

“Aye, he does.”

Jenny started tickling Fergus’ stomach making him burst into a fit of giggles. As I watched my sister and son playing, I felt tears spill down my cheeks and hurried to wipe them away. Jenny was fast though and she knew me very well.

“Here, Fergus, play wi’ the new toy dog I brought ye,” she moved him off her lap and then seeing that he was absorbed with the new toy, came and sat by me. “Are ye okay, Jamie?”

“What? I’m fine,” I gave her my best smile.

“Ye dinna have to be fine, Jamie. I would expect ye no to be actually…” she laid her hand on my back. “Ye lost a child, bràthair, ye’ve earned the right to no keep it together.”

“I have to!” I threw my hands in the air, “Claire isna herself, she’s — she’s gone, Jenny. I fear I’ve lost her.” Her hands came up to my head and pushed it down on her shoulder and then the dam I’d been trying to hold up came crashing down.

“Papa crying?”

“Yer Da is just so happy to see that ye like yer new toy, Fergus,” Jenny said to him and it only made me cry more. Claire should be here, out in the living room as we watched our son play and discover new things.

“I dinna ken what to do, Jenny,” I sniffed and leaned my head up. “I dinna think I can raise a son and try and bring my wife back to life at the same time.”

“That isna yer job to fix her, Jamie.” She raised her hand as I started to open my mouth, “Yes, she is yer wife and ye love her, but she is going through something verra painful. Her body wasna prepared to lose her babe.”

Jenny took a deep breath, looking over a Fergus with a smile on her lips. “I havena told ye this, only because it happened a few years ago and we werena on speaking terms,” she smirked up at me. “Ian and I lost a bairn. Twas only a few weeks along, but it’s no somethin’ ye’ll ever forget. When I lost the bairn, my heart was broken and I didna think I would ever recover, but ye ken that I did, Jamie. Claire will be alright.”

“I’m sorry, Jenny,” I squeezed her hand.

“Time doesna heal all wounds, I’m afraid, but it does help,” she squeezed my hand. “Ian and I went to grief counseling for a few months after it happened, just to manage the pain and hurt we were both feeling. Perhaps it’s something ye should consider,” Jenny smiled and then rose to join Fergus back on the floor.

I leaned back on the couch, wondering how much time Claire would need. Grief counseling was something I’d thought of, only briefly though. My hope was that Claire would come back to me all on her own, but maybe this time she needed more help than I could offer.

“Would ye talk to her, Jenny?”

“I will,” she nodded.

“Thank you.”

With Fergus occupied, I went into the kitchen and started preparing the table for dinner. I put out four placemats with hopes that Claire would join us out here instead of taking it in our room.

When I walked down the hall and into our room, she was sitting on the bed — not laying — with a towel wrapped around her body and hair.

“Did the bath help?”

“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” she smiled weakly and I went to her, kneeling at her feet. “I’m just so tired.”

“I ken, Sassenach. So am I,” I kissed both her hands. “Jenny brought dinner and is stayin’, would ye come out and eat wi’ us?”

“Sure,” she nodded. “I’ll just change.”

“No need,” I winked and saw the smallest hint of a real smile. She had told me I couldn’t wink and laughed every time I tried to. “I like ye just like this.”

“I’m going to change, Jamie,” she cupped my cheek and then rose from the bed.

Throughout dinner, it was mostly Jenny and I keeping up conversation as Claire ate a few bites off her plate. She had grown thinner since we lost Jane and I tried to make her eat, but I wasn’t about to force food down her throat. After Fergus had cleaned his plate, Jenny offered to put him to bed.

“Would ye mind waitin’ on the couch, Claire? I’d like to talk wi’ ye,” she smiled, grunting softly as she picked up Fergus. I was in the kitchen, washing our plates and putting them in the dishwasher, trying to give them space.

Jenny was back ten minutes later and I peered around the corner to see Claire sitting beside her. This had been the longest she’d been out of our room since before the miscarriage. I stood in the kitchen, a cloth in hand, drying the same plate over and over again as I listened to Jenny.

“I told this to Jamie earlier, but I ken he might not have had time to tell ye,” Jenny smiled. “Ian and I lost a bairn a few years back. Nine weeks. I was devastated and I didna know how to move on wi’ my life after it happened.”

“I’m so sorry, Jenny,” Claire said.

“I dinna tell ye this to ask for sympathy or to tell ye that yer pain isna yer own, but I tell ye wi’ the hope that ye can see a way out of the pain. There isna a time limit to when ye’ll feel better, but for me, the only thing that helped was doing small things around the house each day. Slowly, I came back to myself. Ian and I went to counseling for a bit, that was a help as well. But Claire, ye must know that losing a child will stay wi’ ye always and that I’m here for ye. We all are — especially Jamie.”

I didn’t hear Claire’s response so I peered around the corner again to see her head buried in Jenny’s neck, her back moving as if she was crying.

“Find ye somethin’ to occupy yer mind wi’ and ye’ll find ye willna focus on that horrible day sae much,” Jenny said, rubbing her back.

I placed the plate on the counter and walked out into the living room making both of them look up at me.

“Ye know, Sassenach. I was just tellin’ Jenny how I was goin’ to the store soon to pick up some seeds for yer wee garden out back. But I canna remember what ones ye wanted me to get,” I smiled, hopeful that she would take the bait.

Claire wiped her cheeks with her fingers, blinking rapidly. “Um, roses perhaps. I’d like to plant a rose bush and just any other herbs you find.”

“Rose bush it is,” I leaned down, placing a kiss on her head.

“Our mother had a rose bush, ye ken?” Jenny smiled and I saw Claire’s eyes light up a bit at that.

“Twas beautiful and ye’ve seen it, Claire,” I grinned. “The one near the entrance at Lallybroch.”

“Oh that’s right,” Claire said, “I always thought it was so beautiful.”

I mouthed a thank you to Jenny as I walked back into the kitchen to finish up the dishes. I knew Claire had been wanting to work in our garden for months now and maybe this would be the perfect distraction to help her heal.

[myheartbeatskids]

So Declan loved me and we talked about science and lab babies and clones and all that. So He told me he loved me because i was the first person to really really listen and understand as opposed to being the one to teach.

And so he had understood what he was taught then developed and built upon it correctly with help from his own brain and God. And del Muerte whom helped me understand as well cause that shit was mind blowing.

So he asked me to have his soul mate. To give birth to her.

And I was pretty much dragged out and Declan ran the show after that.

I agreed but it was more like a thing where i had to focus and talk instead of fainting.

So Matt actually helped to implant because I have an upturned uterious and so things like that are painful because of the rigidity and non flexible as i need materials used while Jeremiah comforted and helped me relax.

So then essentially i was kidnapped.

Declan is part clone and part Neanderthal.

Annabelle is part clone and part Neanderthal.

So some of us from Michael Jackson's boarding school --- although I wasn't i stayed there alot on my own. So i was part of it, unofficially as i am a civilian doing military shit now. --- have clones in a laboratory. But they are miniature human size as they are kept in barbie size containers.

Since Declan was a clone Jesse gave permission to make, they said i should use a clone.

It took 5 eggs until Declan approved the child that would be created in the embryo. Del Muerte communicated to us what God said.

Most males get their soul mates at age 7. Declan was only 2 years old. So God hadnt had enough experience to program or create his perfect soulmate.

So it just so happened it was 2 years of plus 5 embryos which makes the year 7 while added together.

So when Annabelle was born Declan came to get me and her but my now ex-husband got me all fucked up and i had amnesia and all that and i remember the power struggle type issues while signing the birth certificate which is why i get child support as my ex swore bla bla bla and signed papers to those statements but I was all "Dude while he's signing let's run!" Because he pissed me off during that time and i was all no hes wrong and all... But I guess I was scared of him or his aura csused me confusion or Idk. I remember feeling sick.

So craziness. We are 16 years late. And unfortunately yet fortunately a lot of research was done and i have a lot of government apology money coming my way. Which i don't have yet.... But soon.

This is Cambria AvaLynn named after Alexis Dejoria.

Because Matt's parents were into hiding, they named him after a mat. A common object so in case of ESP feom the people they hid from they would think "welcome mat" like welcome to travel with us son named Matt. Welcome to eat at the dining table, Matt. Well, come, Matt.

So came or come because i would always want to see Matt so I would say "You came!!!" When i saw him and hug him and he would say "welcome"

And Bria after me.

Turning the x into a v (for Victory) and Lynn as in the 80s most of my friends on the military base i lived on has Lynn as their middle names. So to remind me she is a friend.

She's my child that was ectopic due to the sponges Jamie & Doug Otis found and reminded us of. But we went to the hospital because i began to hemmoragge and they were able to save her and her twin.

Then my mom killed her and he died naturally as he was in ICU TO experiment on them being raised/healed as premies temporarily as one within an incubator and the other skin to skin contact. As woman need to be comforted more, we picked Ava to bring home.

They were the first experiment with soul mates being born as twins. Both clones of my and Jeremiah and his being Ava and my being the male Andrew.

Andrew after Jesse... "And he drew" cause he was always drawing beautifully.

And the other clones were of Jesse James and Alexis.

Alexis got kidnapped by her dad and so the story goes... I did too Eventually

Jeremiah's dad helped us as the grandparent in house.

This is Declan.

He told Jeremiah "I'm not the one sitting around waiting with a pouted lip waiting for someone to do it for me. Now i found the woman and go get my kid!!"

Dude WTF I'm not having someones kid... I'm only 21!!

"Now im the man around the house and what I say goes!!! And you are going to have my kid!!"

Dude whatever. So i did dream into the lab with them but... I thought we were just playing and so i agreed and so next thing i knew there was a frozen child ready to be implanted. Thus my ability to be kidnapped so easily...

Cause when a kid is all telling you about clones and labs and shit... And you're hearing voices... that shit is insane. Literally.

So i didn't take it seriously enough.

But Declan is only 19 Now. And my kid is 16.

So it's old enough to have a romantic relationship. To avoid issues i had as a child with social services.

The plan was to have them grow up as friends but also believed it may been too dangerous....

Yet I still don't agree that it was.

However for the last 10 year's I have been working daily for my amnesia to be solved and also saving the world (of NHRA especially) at the same time.

And have earned multiple Nobel Peace Prizes which i have yet to receive.

So working on law enforcement and the military and government, about to break into the public school system and tear that up ;) as a civilian has earned me billions of dollars i have yet to receive....

But i have given away as i can and have bought businesses that I want.

As proof that the government does care about all its people's hopes and dreams they have bought them on my behalf and am gsining bank! And i shop st my own businesses too... Ironically! I been shopping at Loves for nearly a year... went into Speedway a few times now i drive an extra 5 miles just to shop there because i like it more!!

Robert, the shift manager finally told me tonight as I bought all the GIANTS for my Giant 6'7" man. And i turned the ones in Valencia County to Speedway in honor of Aaron and Paul (twins) who wanted to show the dangers of meth and the meth community as they honored me with my idea of how to end Breaking Bad with the movie reel of El Camino (the mother road) of the manner of the psychological reality of life gone wrong.

I freak Robert out... He was worried when he saw me there that I was to audit like a monster, fire everyone and work the cash register and store myself.

So tonight he saw I bought milkshakes (not available at Love's) figured it out and gave me a pack of smokes for free and blurted out why.

So i took all the giants as i always do and fucked them all up and made them better.

So i own them till i make my money back on the businesses and then they get given to who I intended it for... As I do double check they will always be worthy... If not i keep them for me because I was being good snd honest and fair the whole time.

So 360° K i own.

So i only compete with Love's whom I always promised the King's Highway to... You know him... As an old time Western Thug bitch ass womanizer player. Motorcycle Guru. Hot Rod extraordinaire. Texas loving son of a gun. Jesse James Smith! Just kidding... Just regular old ole fogie mad scientist Jesse Gregory Smith. Of West Coast Choppers. Which i own and always have as i put up the money for his business intending to always be in his life and helping him. So my apology... The only one i can ever give as i can't predict the future without help is Love. And he loves everyone and won't let Google tell.

I bought every gas station in the country as we will be switching to electric and hydro electric and non fuel and solar and hybrid autos by 2030. So the previous owners have a nice retirement and no stress. As the storage oil facilities that were shot in Saudia Arabia were actually empty. I own them.

Fossil fuels are actually the blood of dinosaurs and other dead bodies that are converted and broken down and dehydrated by plant life...

I found that out by the eternal bushes burning.. I mean growing... here on the mountain. Tumble weeds otherwise known as thyme. And we found via satellite tons of skeletons by Earth xrays under the bushes and some not as they are closer to the Earth surface. I found a wooly mammoth knuckle bone.

We moved here in 2002 and there was a patch of earth that looked like concrete by the mail boxes and we just drove over them assuming that's what it was.

They were mummified wooly mammoths. Now broken up and scattered all over the desert road.

I would not like my blood which could potentially bring me back to life wasted on a car... For someone to get to a job they hate. So no more. Not from the USA anyways.

One night I was at dinner and i said Obama needs to handle thwt South Dakota pipeline. My dad was all what is he supposed to do? All simple solutions were crap and had an argument. I said "then lie! Tell the American people they are scum! Tell them we opened the pipeline up and the pipes broke and destroyed the precious land that needs to be protected." My dad laughed and i felt kinda stupid for being so angry.

But Uncle Donald heard my point and so thats exactly what he did. Fake news? Its real.

Because he saw the change I made in the NHRA with some lies that laid very close to the truth.

You don't need to believe in reincarnation for it to happen. I didn't until about 6 months ago. But my mom's mom and my great aunt my grandma's sister ... Granny Bessie Heltons 2 daughters did. My grandma explained it to me one night when I was 18 as i had asked my Great Aunt Nita i was closer to but she didn't explain she just said "because i do" And the dictionary explaination i already knew. But my grandma traveled with me like y'all know i do And showed me.

We started in Heaven with only having one human life and having the soul figure of a human that we select. Hers was a teenage body, absolutely beautiful. With her old ass mind and experience. I told her what I wanted was to be a child. A dirty raggedy haired barefoot blonde without a care in the world, feeling smarter than I feel now... Because that is when i was happiest. When i saw i could end pain and suffering with death, when i knew life could escape heart ache, even when evil exist.

And so now on her second cat life with me, as her first caused her kidnapping by the same drug induced psycho piece of shit that arrested and molested Jesse James dog, Coco and her untimely death as I did record in Tumblr. "Sister Kitty" was kidnapped by him, hes in a special jail. He just had his pinkie finger nail and big toe nail removed as he did kidnap Mogar and slice his face and slice Kizzys leg. So in order to understand what he did he agreed to similar punishment as he did to our precious cargo...

Cargo my bitches!

Jesse: No! I only ask!

Me: who do i have to convince?

Jesse: Idk Jeremiah?

Me: Ava who is your dad?

Ava: Idk I guess not Jeremiah?? IDK!! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO TELL!? you all always told me they are both my dad's. Let me ask God. Oh! Jesse! ..... And Jeremiah

Me: your dad is your dad and dad he will always be no matter shine or high water, love will always be there for you and for me. Alexis, do you know that one?

She nods all teary..

Jesse: well did i get loves?!

Me: uhh yes ass hole! We always love you back. What do you want with a gas station with no gas? That's like having a family with out us, most especially me!

Jesse: well it got gas now!!!

Me: well gas up at your local, bring a truck. I got a lot of stuff.

Declan: you hear her? Most especially me! Me! Well, me too, you better pick me up.

Me: Jesse... You ready for Orlando?? I got a Chase bank account with the Princess Castle on the debit card... Just needs a little cash in the account.

Jesse: You Mean You Will Pay!!!

Me: i see that was not a question so that does not deserve a response. But yes. I am suppose to have a wire transfer per last night's discussions that will pay for it.

Jesse: WHOA SHIT!

Me: Jeremiah you down?

Jeremiah: to pay Miss Giant Owner?

Me: uhh I'm Miss Speedyway now. No.. Carry me through times square after some Disney World Fun!

Jeremiah: FUCK YES!! uhh yes thank you for inviting me. I will go

Matt Hagan: look look at this. Im the best friend i even got her kid named after me

Me: Matt Hagan... Looks like you're invited, The Best Friend. In or out of Disney World for the hotel.

Matt: IN!!

Me: youre definitely going you know how to do it right! Pops... You gonna stay home alone with your woman?

Pops: not if i don't have to

M3: you don't

Pops: shit! Oh yeah!

Chuck: what about Cookie!!

Me: you and bring Your comrades I need to talk to

Chuckie: oh Cookies going!

Me: I didn't know he could do the Conga.

Jesse: yes you did!

Me: no wonder it looked familiar.

[ecampbellsoup]

Outlander Moments of Impact: So Long As I’m With You

(If you missed part 1 of this scene, here it is )

What makes someone fall in love with another? Is it the crinkles around their eyes when they smile? Is it the way they toss their head back as they laugh? Is the set of their shoulders as they walk? Is it the tone of their voice when they say your name?

No one can articulate the exact components that encompass love. It is too reductionistic to even try.

However, regardless of the mystery surrounding attraction, there is a point where you find yourself experiencing an irrevocable warmth towards another.

You look upon them and suddenly like a bolt of lighting: you are love-struck.

Jamie Fraser’s lighting bolt moment takes place in 1x2 “Castle Leoch”. He is bewitched beyond measure, never to be the same again.

Let’s break down this scene for some context, shall we?

After sharing himself fully with her, scars and all, Jamie and Claire enjoy a moment of silence in front of the fire at Castle Leoch. However, after moving his arm too quickly, Jamie winces, groaning in pain. Despite his practiced cool demeanour, he is suffering. 

Claire cautioning, “Don’t do that. I’m going to strap that arm to your side.” Breaking away from him, she leans down to grab the cloth to finish bandaging Jamie with.

Jamie’s face communicates so much in this moment. Such frustration by his own injury, limitation, yet also, so thankful for this woman’s help.

Ordering him yet again, “Hold still.” Taking the fabric, Claire wraps it around his body. 

As naturally as drawing breath, Jamie blesses Claire with words of affirmation, “You’re a kind woman, with a good touch.”

Choosing not address this, Claire just glances at him while continuing her work.

Almost as if she’s putting him in his place, she ties the bandage and jerks it tight causing Jamie to chuckle and smirk in acknowledgment. Yet he continues to admire her anyway. With a sly smile, he adds, “Your husband is a lucky man.” What is so lovely about this is that Jamie is acknowledging his attraction, yet also respecting the fact that she is married. He is honoring her in this moment.

However, the second the word “husband” is spoken, Claire crashes into reality. Full of fear, confusion, and doubt, she panics. Backing away from Jamie, she sits staring blankly into the fire remembering Frank. 

Immediately, Jamie notices a shift in her disposition. Attuned to the slightest change, he knows that something is causing Claire pain. 

Gently he asks, “Mistress? Mistress Beauchamp, what’s wrong?” Barely holding it together, Claire explains, “I’m fine. I was just thinking about my husband.”

Jamie, full of loving-kindness, responds, “Oh...Lass” Inquiring further, “Is he not alive?” Jamie is so sensitive; even the way he asks the question is gracious. Instead of phrasing it by “death”, he frames the question in terms of life. 

In response, Claire answers, “No, actually. He’s not alive.” 

And then she completely falls apart, sobbing. (This is purely my interpretation, but I believe this moment of brokenness is not simply about Frank. I assert that Claire is just beginning to realize that she is lost in time and she is paralyzed by the notion that she many never find her way back. Her grief is for the fear of the unknown)

Without a second of hesitation, he rushes to Claire’s side.

Kneeling down with her, Jamie puts his arm around her and pulls her into his lap. 

Softly whispering gaelic into her ear, he brushes back her hair. And for a few brief moments, Claire clings on. She melts into Jamie and he holds her against his chest. 

As Jamie feels this woman go to pieces, his face shows equal anguish. A muscle jerks in his jaw and his eyes fill with compassionate empathy. He is sharing in her grief.

Claire calms in the sheltering arms of this unknown man. 

Perfectly in sync, they both draw back. And then, their eyes lock on one another. Holding their breath, seconds pass that might as well have been hours. There is an unspoken electric current between. The sexual tension tingles in the air, sharper than a knife. 

Suddenly, Claire feels Jamie’s desire for her through his kilt. Terrified, she immediately jumps up.

She moves away from him to put distance between them. Despite being drawn to this highlander, she has no idea what he’s capable of...Standing far away from him, she says, “I am sorry; I didn’t mean to...”

Following suit, Jamie directly stands up. He senses her fear. 

Waiting for a moment to collect himself, there is a sense of shock from Jamie that this just happened; perhaps even a slight embarrassment that he put her in that position.

Still quiet, nervously, Claire looks at Jamie, watching him.

Fully aware of the emotions she’s experiencing, Jamie then reciprocates, looking at her dead on. Without wavering and full of conviction he says, “You need not be scared of me.” Even in his hunger for her, he explicitly states she has nothing to fear; he would never use his power against her. 

He extends this promise further, “Nor anyone else here so long as I am with you.” Claire, moved by his generosity, allows her guard back down. 

But then she inquires, “And when you’re not with me?” To this question, Jamie’s face subtly, but noticeably darkens. In his eyes creep an awareness of the reality of who Claire is and where she is: and that alarms him for her. He cautions, “Just never forget that you are English in a place where that’s not a pretty thing to be.” The irony in this statement is piercing. Although others find Claire to be “ugly” due to her origins, Jamie finds her beautiful.

Stepping towards Claire, he lightly takes her hand in his own, charging her, “Watch yourself.” Taking him at his word: “Thank you, I will.”

Not wanting to leaver her, or release her hand, Jamie knows he must do both. Excusing himself, “Now you sleep a bit. You’re worn out.”

Collecting his things, Jamie makes his exit.

And Claire stares after him as ha walks away.

Jamie looks upon this outlander and he sees her for who she truly is.

As everyone around her assumes wickedness, Jamie calls her “a kind woman.” As everyone around her questions her ability to actually heal, he states she has “a good touch.”

Jamie does not choose to affirm Claire’s physical beauty despite his longing for her.

He affirms her CHARACTER. All around her fly slanderous accusations, yet Jamie highlights her kindness. He also praises her healing abilities; something Frank internally resented and everyone else is highly suspect of.

But without even knowing her full name, Jamie knows Claire. He is drawn to this woman for her heart, her soul, her goodness, & her healing nature.

As he watches this precious, dear woman break over the loss of someone, his beckons her into the safety of his affection and holds her there.

Sitting in agony from his injury, he puts his pain aside and leans down to tend to her.

He cares about her suffering even more than his own.

Her expressed emotion did not startle him, confuse him, repulse him… it wooed him.

He fell in love with this woman as she wept in his arms.

It was her humanity that sealed his fate. Her grief, her feelings, her love: all culminated into a gift of stunning brilliance that James Fraser simply could not resist.

In an exchange of hearts, Jamie realizes his love for Claire Beauchamp. Shocked by the electricity of attraction, his fate is sealed and never to be broken.

Despite this revelation, he does not use it against her in that moment. He does not put his feelings before her. He does not let his desire of her supersede her. And so he yields when she pulls away.

From the minute she arrived, she was threatened with abused power from a man. And thus every other man is seen as a threat of rape, harm, and manipulation to Claire.

Jamie sees this trepidation in her eyes. And so with his simple words, he shatters her fear:

“You need not be scared of me, nor anyone else here. So long as I’m with you.”

With this covenant, he says: though others seek to abuse you, harm you, use you, hurt you, abandon you, I will never do the same. You are protected and you are SAFE with me.

His perfect love casts out all her fear.

Although Claire thinks these words are momentary as she is not planning to say, Jamie means them for eternity. His love for her is everlasting.

[laythornmuse]

Merry Christmas!

To  @mybeautifuldecay

It’s been so fun getting to know you a bit this Holiday Season!  Your drawings and fanfictions are beautiful and I’m so grateful to have gotten to know you better.  I hope my messages brought you an extra helping of cheer, and I hope you love this story.  It’s taken on a life of its own, and I have you to thank for it <3

Thank you @moghraidhjamie for hosting this wonderful event!

To all the wonderful Outlander fans,  I hope you all get some downtime this holiday season and get to catch up on all the wonderful fiction the writers are pouring out!  I know I will. 

PROLOGUE

Claire first felt it when she was 9 years old, a warm, delicate flower blooming in her chest, that made her stomach tingle and her knees wobble. It occurred every time she greeted James Fraser, the laird’s son.  

At 12 years old, Jamie was tall for his age, though his face held a softness to it that magnified when he smiled.  It was that smile and the gleam in his blue eyes that made her say yes when he invited her to play, and she quickly found herself with three new siblings as Ian, Jenny, and Jamie counted her as their fourth.

A resident of Broch Morda all her life, she and Uncle Lambert moved into a cottage at Lallybroch later that year when Brian Fraser hired him to tutor his children. Though Jamie would be sent to Paris in a few years, he needed instruction to prepare him for the rigors of University, and as a learned man, Uncle Lambert suited this position well.

Living at Lallybroch also suited Claire. She was an adventurous and spirited child whose curiosity often lead her into hour-long discussions about every topic imaginable, but her latest obsessions were plants:  the purpose of plants, how they grow, and why there were so many of them.  

She hated the Church’s answer.

“But WHY did God make them all?” She whined one afternoon, tapping her pencil along her ledger. She puffed out a breath that made her curls bounce against her brow, and frowned at her uncle.

“Maybe God was bored,” Jamie muttered, too engrossed in his arithmetic work to look up. Jenny rolled her eyes at him and kicked his shin under the table. She looked at her friend and chewed her bottom lip.

“They offer wonderful variety,” Jenny said, contemplating the question.  “They’re all so unique in shape and color, and they change as all living things do.”

“Variety can’t be the only reason,” Claire argued. “And they’re not all pleasant. Some are sharp and grotesque.”

“Good use of your vocabulary word,” her uncle murmured, before tipping his head up and smiling at her. “Why, it’s quite simple,  my dear.  They each perform a special task in nature. Plants can heal and kill, and some can do both. The real pleasure comes in studying how.”

With those words and a copy of Phillip Miller’s “The Gardener’s dictionary,” published just last year and a prized possession in the Fraser home, Claire took to botany and the healing power of plants and herbs.

When not sleeping or doing her chores, Claire would spend hours reading and collecting plant samples. When Brian Fraser bought her a mortar and pestle and some herb seedlings, Claire added gardening to her daily joys.

Her love for plants proved useful one winter when Jenny, Ian, and Jamie were confined to their beds with awful fevers and coughs. Claire dutifully made eucalyptus pastes and ointments and applied it to each of her patients to help them sleep.

Jamie however, wanted no part of it.

“It smells awful,” he moaned, pulling his blanket up to his chin and shifting away from her.

“I’m surprised you can smell at all. Your nose is redder than cherry.” She tutted at him and circled around to the other side of the bed. He immediately moved away from her. “Really, Jamie if you don’t hold still, I’ll sit on you.”

“James Fraser!” Brian barked from across the hall. “Let Claire treat you or I’ll make you wish ye had!”

He glared at her and her smug grin and huffed in defeat. Claire crawled on the bed next to him and applied the ointment to his throat and chest.

“You’re less fevered today, at least. Do you want me to read another chapter?” Claire asked with a smile, as she tucked the blanket back under his chin.

Jamie yawned and turned on his side. “Aye, but start at the beginning of Chapter 2? I fell asleep during it.”

Claire smiled and pulled the book into her lap as Jamie shifted closer to her knee.

“That evil influence which carried me first away from my father’s house—which hurried me into the wild and indigested notion of raising my fortune, and that impressed those conceits so forcibly upon me as to make me deaf to all good advice, and to the entreaties and even the commands of my father—”

“Sounds like a trouble you two share,” Brian Fraser said under his breath as he tucked an extra blanket around his son’s feet. He soundlessly padded out of the room before tossing a final glance at the pair, not missing the gentle smile his son wore as Claire turned the page.

In the spring, Claire would lead the group on foraging expeditions, and she often found new specimens in between their games and adventures. Jenny would sketch the plant, and if deemed necessary, Jamie would painstakingly dig it up so it could be relocated to Claire’s garden and studied.

This morning Jamie and Claire were alone,  as Ian and Jenny were still working on their lessons.

“I’m not having much…” Jamie sneezed violently.  “Luck…with this one…”

He carefully wiped his 15-year-old face on his sleeve as his eyes watered. Claire, now 12, grinned and took the plant from his hands. He blinked rapidly, and when his eyes cleared, he saw Claire’s smile, radiant as a spring morning’s glow.

“I think that’s three allergies I’ve discovered now, Jamie.  One could wonder why you bother helping me anymore.”

Jamie’s cheeks turned pink as he kicked at the dirt by his feet.  He never turned down an opportunity to spend time with her, even if it was to dig up ragweed. He shrugged, but Claire saw the telltale drumming of his fingers against his thigh. His expression settled into one of determination, and before his bravery waned, he closed the distance between them.

The kiss was a quick beat of butterfly wings against her lips, and too soon his wings were gone.

“That’s why,” he whispered.

A moment later, courage fully expended, he was gone, headed to the barn to finish his chores. Claire held a hand to her mouth, a giddiness filling her as her lips tingled, still wet from his. She could smell his lingering scent, grass and salt and fresh hay. She stood still for another ten minutes, taking inventory of all that would or could change from that kiss before she returned to her garden with her new specimen.

When the sun began to lower into the hills, Jamie found her in her garden where she usually ended her days. He smiled at her as she stood and was about to speak when Brian Fraser called them both inside.

“Jamie, you remember your uncle, Dougal?” Brian said curtly, eying Dougal where he stood in their parlor.

“Aye. Welcome, Uncle.”

“You’re a braw lad, Jamie,” Dougal began, “and your father and I thought it time for you to know your Makenzie lines.”

“Aye?” Jamie looked at his father whose face was blank, masked to hide his true feelings on the matter.

“Your mother and I agreed to it after Willie passed.  Your uncle Colum is a wise man, but unable to travel.  A season or two at Castle Leoch, under Mackenzie care,” Brian’s eyes burned into Dougal’s, “and then three years at University in Paris.”

Jamie’s mouth gaped like a fish for a few moments before his father’s raised brow made him close it. He had yearned for this day for years, anxious to advance his sword skills his father had taught him.

A smile broke across his face as Dougal’s hand clasped his shoulder. Brian ruffled his son’s hair, a sadness drifting through him at the thought of parting from him.

Claire watched the exchange from the doorway, her mouth clamped shut to prevent it from trembling.

Four years? From her closest friend and…her thoughts traveled back to the kiss and she tasted acid in her mouth.

Not to be. Not now, at least.

And so she forced a smile on her face, for Jamie seemed overjoyed, and went to set the table with Jenny.

2 Years Later

“The Fool.  His letters get shorter and shorter while his requests only grow longer.” Jenny muttered.

Claire laughed as she looked up from her knitting. “What now?”

“Three shirts, a scarf, and a package full of mending. Apparently, he’s too busy to darn his own socks.”

“You’d think with his exams he’d look forward to distraction.”

“Oh, he’s plenty of those,” Brian Fraser muttered, not looking up from his book.  Jenny’s eyes darted from her father to Claire,  whose attention was now focused on her pearling.

Jamie’s letters had turned from warm to formal, and their length from 5 pages to 1.  Brian’s messages with his son, however, had become longer and solicited more exasperated sighs and Scottish affirmations.

For several months, Brian was tight-lipped about their contents, but finally a month ago the contents had mingled into Jenny’s letters as well.

Jamie thought himself in love with a woman named Annalise.

Claire, simply put, was devastated.

The letter had arrived months ago,  and Jenny had shared it with Claire without knowing the contents.  Claire had held her face until she was back in her shared room.  She cried until her chest ached, and tried her best to keep quiet to not disturb Jenny.

Eventually,  Jenny slipped into bed behind her and pulled Claire to her shoulder.

“Sob if you must, Claire, and hold onto me. I’ll never tell a soul, mo chridgh.”

She let her tears roll freely down her face, gasping for air as her heart throbbed and her lungs shook with the strain of loss.

Jenny held her through the night, stroking her hair until Claire fell into a fitful sleep at last. In the morning, Jenny felt a shift within Claire.  Her face was solemn, having tucked away the shards of her heart, and by afternoon she renewed her vigor in her studies.  

Jenny watched her now with pursed lips, but Claire’s indifferent mask did not falter.

That night, there were no tears.

Chapter 1

[mymelodyheart]

Starting Over Chapter 20 ~The Healing Kind~

With her legs wrapped around his waist, Jamie opened the door and stepped into his dimly lit bedroom. Staggering, he swivelled on his heel and pinned her back against the wall, hips pressing into her inner thigh.

He chuckled, lowering his head and his nose nudging her ear. His scent of soap, aftershave and man swirled in giddy circles, heightening her senses and making her wriggle to get closer.

As if he knew exactly what she needed, he hoisted her higher and pushed up the hem of her dress. He ran his palms on her buttocks, fingers slipping under the flimsy red lace of her panties and grinding his erection between her legs. Claire felt exposed, but the position felt deliciously perfect and indecent all at the same time. 

"I hope ye dinnae mind waiting a bit longer for food because right now all I can think of is making love to ye," he murmured against her neck.

Claire whimpered in frustration. She was dying a slow death, and her insides were throwing a spasm party, and here he was talking about food. She frantically tugged his shirt up and slipped a hand into his sweatpants. "Damn it, Jamie, you talk too much."

Jerking involuntarily at her touch, he let out a tortured groan and dropped his head onto her shoulder. "Ah, fuck. Are ye trying to kill me, Sassenach?"

"No," she gasped, eagerly clasping her hand around his shaft. "We can't have that. I like having you around."

Jamie grabbed her wrist, stilling her hand. "I'm glad to hear of it, but I must say, ye have a firm grip for someone as delicate as ye, Sassenach."

She squeezed his throbbing cock in retaliation. "I want you. N-now."

He shuddered helplessly in her grip, his restraint evident in the rigidness of his muscles and tensed jaw. "I'm trying to go slow for ye," he muttered.

"We've been there and done that." She grabbed a handful of Jamie's hair and drew his mouth down to meet hers. 

His arms immediately circled around her like steel, hauling her up against him as he sunk into the kiss. He joined their mouths with such force that she had to cling to his shoulders for balance. She could feel the change in his hard muscles underneath his clothes, tightening and moving over the light material of her dress. His scruff chafed her skin, and his hips forced her legs wider apart until a bolt twisted deep in her belly, and her limbs started to lose its faculty. Jamie licked inside her mouth and drew his tongue out slowly, all the while twisting handfuls of her dress's material.

She nearly cried out from the loss of pressure from his mouth, but his gaze willed her to look into his eyes, the translucent blue touched by storm clouds before a lightning hits.

"Why are you staring like that for?" she asked, with a crack in her voice.

Although his breathing was shallow, he smiled slightly. "Because ye are the most beautiful thing I ken and I can stare at ye for hours, and I'll never tire of it. I cannae believe ye're with me."

She forced her lungs to take in slow breaths. This man before her had the kind of face that stopped women in their tracks, and with his intrinsic charm, he'd cycled through them faster than his razor blades. And yet, those eyes, screaming out emotions, sought her approval and revered her.

He was beautiful, indeed, but his true beauty came from the depth of his eyes and the gentle expressions of his manner. There was something of the warrior in him, combined with a forbearance that made her heart reach out. She loved him most when he lost himself to the moment and forgot the mask he wore for others, as he did now. When he is older, the lines on his face will deepen, and he will still be handsome, but it is his soul she had a glimpse of, that will shine through. So tonight she would give him her heart and take his to keep safe.

The instinct to give all of herself had her hand trailing down his stomach toward his waistband once more. "No, Sassenach," he growled, snagging her wrists. "I need a fucking minute to get my head around the idea ye're really mine. Christ! Do ye have any idea how ye're looking at me right now and what it's doing to me?" His jaw bunched and his nostrils flared. "Ye touch me down there again, and I'll burst."

"I want to," she breathed, swayed by the desire to make Jamie lose his composure and see all of him. She wanted to see his needs on display so she could be the one who took care of them. "Please, Jamie." She pushed at his chest, and he had no choice but to let her leg down one at a time, carefully cradling her against the wall with his body, his laboured breaths heavy above her head.

His forehead fell onto hers. "Ye think I need a reason to want ye any more when it's already so much?"

Knowing she drove him near breaking point made her even more determined. With a smile, her right hand drifted lower and squeezed his cock, drawing out a low groan from his mouth. "Jamie, Jamie," she whispered, lowering herself onto her knees and pulling his sweatpants and boxer shorts down along with her. "I want to do this for you so badly." Her face came level with his trim hips and hard thighs and an erection that stood proudly between his legs. Licking her lips, she pressed her mouth at the head and cupped his balls.

"Ah, Christ, Sassenach," he gritted through his teeth. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, then propped one hand on the wall, the other caressing her cheek. "I havenae earned this."

She gazed up at him and wrapped a hand around his girth. "I'll be the judge of that," she whispered, stroking him towards her lips. Her tongue darted and traced slow circles around the tip before closing her mouth around his thick weight in a long-drawn-out pull, her grip twisting and pumping in a slow, steady motion.

Jamie gave out a vicious curse, and he shifted closer, reaching out, to glide his thumb along the crease of her lips. "Easy, Sassenach, ye've got some mouth on ye, and ye're slowly killing me with it."

Keeping her gaze locked with his, Claire tightened her lips on a downstroke as she delved in for another hard suck, her right-hand continuously stroking and squeezing his sex. The taste and scent of him, all-male, earthy and raw, pervaded her senses and she couldn't get enough, excitement and arousal infusing her blood. His flesh jerked inside her mouth without conscious volition as she retreated with deliberate slowness, making his thighs crowd either side of her face.

He made a pained guttural sound. "Ah, fuuuck." As if he couldn't help himself, his hips rolled in, filling her mouth and forcing her head to tip back. The more his fist twisted in her hair, the more she took more of him, letting him penetrate her throat and listening to one profanity gruffly cussed after another. 

Her adrenaline spun like a hurricane out of control, the muscles at the juncture of her thighs tensing tight. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she heard him shout  Enough!  But she was too intoxicated from the taste of him and too far gone, focused only on pleasing him.

He yanked her up on her feet and sunk his teeth in the exposed curve of her neck. She swayed, clutching his shirt to keep her balance. "Jesus, Sassenach, whatever is in that grappa, I like it verra much." He kissed along her jaw, his stubble prickling her skin. "If I'd known ..." Hands shook as they erratically worked together, dragging the dress off her body before he divested the rest of his own clothes. "... I would've bought a crate days ago." She tipped her head back, and he brushed his lips down, all the way to her breast.

"And if I'd known you're a mouthful ..." she trailed off.

Jamie paused, stared at her for a beat and then suddenly burst out laughing. "Ah, I have a wee comic in my hands, have I?" He playfully scooped her up into his arms and looked down at her, sky blue eyes radiating with lust and reverence that moved her. "And a beautiful one too, to boot."

He gently laid her on his bed, and she blinked and watched him retrieve a condom at his bedside table, apprehension tickling her belly. Confidence and pride reverberating from his aura, he was magnificent in his nakedness. Being adored by this man, having him admit to things she never thought would pass his lips, turned a crank in her chest.

He lowered himself over her, stripping off her panties, so she lay naked underneath him. Running his rough palms over her skin, he stroked, licked and sucked until her breasts were so sensitive and she was squirming to get closer. She wiggled and hooked an ankle over his thigh, opening herself up.

He softly bit the underside of her breast and chuckled. "Oh no, Sassenach, it's my turn to play. I'm going slow this time."

A moan ripped from her lips. "Oh, no."

"Oh, aye ..."

He took his sweet time, his hands gliding up and down her body in soothing strokes. He circled his tongue over her sensitive nipples, ducked lower, and nibbled the hollow of her stomach.

His lips trailed kisses over to her inner thigh, his hands keeping her spread open for him to play. She attempted to struggle, but his grip only tightened, and he shot her a warning glance. Shaking under the delicious tension, Jamie was building up, her entire body ached to have him inside her.

Ignoring her aching core, his head dipped behind her knee, licking the erogenous zone there, before proceeding over to her calf. He seized her ankle and lifted it up high, so she was completely exposed to him. "I'd never thought I'd say this after these last few days of hell, but ye were ...ye are worth every second of the torture."

Desire licked at her nerve endings, and her face flushed as his eyes feasted on every intimate inch of her. "W-what are you waiting for then? Come and take what you want," she whimpered. She swallowed hard, when he pressed his lips to her inner ankle and then on the top of her foot, flashing her a mischievous grin in reply. "Oh, God, I can't anymore ...please ..." 

He lowered himself between her legs. "On second thoughts, maybe we should have dinner first."

She gasped. "Jamie ..."

Her sob dissolved in her throat as his tongue licked her swollen fold with deliberate slowness, and his mouth closed-in on her throbbing nub. His hot breath and rhythmic flicks teased the inside of her thighs, using his fingers to rub and stroke until she was rocking against those experienced lips.

Arching her back, her hand automatically reached for the back of his head. "Oh, Jesus, J-Jamie ... I'm going to ..." Her hips bucked and she broke apart instantaneously, giving in to the exquisite release that shook through her body.

Still reeling, the sound of condom wrapper ripping resounded in her ears, and she felt him hover above her, his cock poised at her entrance. "Look at ye ...so bloody perfect and mine," he breathed. "Please don't ever take yersel' away from me again. Promise me."

His demand penetrated her consciousness, absorbing the meaning he was indeed hers, to love and to hold, even though the idea still seemed far-fetched and so new. "I promise," she choked.

His cock drove into her slowly, stretching her to the limit, until she closed her eyes to fight off the urge to scream, the fullness of him sending shock waves of ecstasy through her whole body. Expletives escaped his lips as he surged forward with unrelenting determination until he was finally buried deep. "I love ye, Sassenach ...never felt like this before ...never felt this good ..."

His admission caused all sorts of emotions to swell up within her, and her body opened and received his hard length, locked him deep and demanded more. His fingers held hers and gripped hard as he began to move, gently at first, joining her rhythm as she rolled her hips.

"Mo chridhe," he murmured. "Don't hold back. Let me see all of ye."

His words blurred, lost under the thrusting rhythm of his hips, propelling her higher and higher. He gripped her body and lifted her to meet him, allowing her no room to hide. For one brief heartbeat, doubt penetrated through the fog, and she tried to resist, fighting the maelstrom of pleasure crashing through her, but it was if he sensed it and wouldn't allow it. With a deep grunt, he raised her arse higher and punched his hips. It was a raw combination of carnal needs, wild and primaeval, and she embraced the honesty of their lovemaking as perspiration ran down his face and her nails scored deep into his back until she exploded.

She screamed out his name, her head thrashing wildly on the pillow as pleasure crashed over and over in waves. With a growl, he slammed his hips and joined her, taking her mouth in a deep, soul-stirring kiss. A groan wrenched from Jamie's throat, as he began to convulse and she watched him, triumphant in the arch of his neck, the vein popping out of his temple, and the sweat beading on his brows. He was wrecked, a servant to his own body the way it shook and heaved as it emptied and dropped onto her.

With her open mouth pressed against his chest, she could only whimper, glorying in hearing the repeated chanting of her name in a litany.

"Mine," he rasped. And then, more insistently, "Ye're mine."

Claire's delirious mind picked up on the change in Jamie's tone when his strong arms circled around her, gripping her too tight. He continued to mutter her name, his breathing turning erratic. Strangely so, even in their worked-up state. With his face embedded in the crook of Claire's neck, she only had to push him slightly away to search his face. She found his eyes squeezed shut, her name on his lips. "Jamie," she croaked, kissing his clenched jaw. "Look at me."

Wounded blue eyes found her and trepidation flared in Claire's chest. She wriggled in the circle of his arms, giving him no choice but to slip from her body. He fell onto his side and pulled her in to wrap her in a bear hug. "Fuck."

"What's wrong, Jamie?" She brushed a hand down the back of his hair. "Are you alright?"

A muscle worked up and down in his throat. "Ach, Christ."

Doubt crept in, and a sudden pain scorched her lungs. "Are you already regretting this thing between us now?"

Jamie shot up and frowned at her, his breathing harsh. "First of all, dinnnae call what we have a thing."

"Sorry," she mumbled, feeling confused.

"What happened just now was beautiful. It wasn't a thing." Jamie shut his eyes, missing the wonder that crossed her face. "Ye make me better, and I want to be better for ye." His arms tightened around her. "But I am jealous of every memory of yers that doesnae hold me, and every tear ye've shed for Frank, and every second ye've spent in another man's bed! How is that possible?"

Claire felt like she was breathing through a straw. "Are you saying you've never been jealous before?"

"Aye, I guess so," Jamie admitted, grazing their mouths together, his breathing back to normal. "When I was inside ye, I was thinking how beautiful ye looked. And for a split second, I thought of Frank having ye like how I had ye. And I didnae like that picture in my head at all. All of a sudden, I hated him and yer past. I ken I have nae right saying that to ye with my history and all."

Claire was shaken and amused at the same time. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. This man had blown her perception of him out of the water and replaced it with someone real, instead of some mythos rugby sex-god she'd conjured. "Jamie, whatever feelings I have for Frank is long gone. He's destroyed everything himself, the memories and whatever respect I had left of him. He no longer has power over me. Nor us."

"Aye, I ken," he whispered, his chest lifting and falling. "It's the two of us now."

Time stood still, and a hush fell.

Moving slowly, Jamie got up and removed and disposed of the condom. Claire watched in silence. When he came back to bed, he cuddled her against him and pulled a sheet over them. With a sigh, she laid her cheek against his chest, breathing in his scent. He stroked her hair and pressed his lips to the top of her head.

"I just want to hold ye for a little while before dinner," he said quietly. "Is that okay?" 

Nestling into the warmth of his embrace, she held him tighter and closed her eyes. "Yes."

For the first time, since leaving Frank, Claire felt safe and cherished. 

She never wanted to move from this spot. 

The only person she wanted was here, and the serenity of that moment combined with Jamie's affection made her relax in a way she hadn't known was possible. Like she'd been tense and jittery her whole life and hadn't even known it. 

There was them now. And a big scary world existed somewhere beyond this haven, where bad things happened, and people manipulated other people for gain or fame. And turn people to something they're not.

She silently vowed she would stand by Jamie, no matter what the network threw at him.

But tonight there was only him and her. 

And she was happy and grateful for this peace.

[takemeawaytocamelot]

Red Jamie and the White Lady - Part 12

Your patience is about to be rewarded. And, for the record, it was @diversemediums who suggested we end 11 where we did. But... There’s something in chapter 13 that I’ll be giving her a lot of credit for, so it’s okay. @outlandishchridhe gets a HUGE thank you for helping me write this smutty scene WEEKS before the story caught up to it. 

Just a fair warning, this chapter is verra NSFW and takes place immediately after chapter 11, which you can find HERE.

Lacing his fingers with hers, he led her to the stairs and up to the laird’s room. He’d rarely set foot in this room, it being his parents sanctuary when he was little. It looked almost the same, with only a few of the pictures on the walls changed. Claire closed the door behind them and took a deep breath as she looked around.

“This whole place is full of history, isn’t it?” she asked, almost reverently.

“Aye, it is.”

He watched her, how the light played off of the curves of her body, making the curls of her hair shine like a halo around her face.

Mine, he thought suddenly, love and possessiveness and tenderness battling within him as she pushed herself away from the door and came to him.

She stalked him like a predator stalks her prey, moving around him, making him feel naked under her gaze. A moment later, her arms were around his neck and her sweet mouth on his. Jamie thought it was another vision; surely something this divine couldn’t happen between two people. Yet here they were, utterly lost in pure bliss.

He moved his hands from her waist to her ribs, then around her back to pull her even closer. Christ, she was so small…

“It’s alright,” she whispered, her lips brushing his as she spoke, her hands running up and down his chest. Jamie swallowed, pulling back to look into her eyes.

"Are ye sure?" he asked in a voice that didn't sound like his own. She looked at him then, eyes soft and dark.

"Yes," she said, with absolute truth, and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him again.

"Wait," he said breathlessly, pulling her away with his hands on her arms.

Claire looked at him curiously, but didn't try to come back and didn't appear hurt by his actions. She trusted him, then. He took a deep breath.

"Claire, I need to tell ye something. And I ken it may change your mind a bit. About me. But I need to before… that is…”

She furrowed her brows, seeing he was serious.

"What is it?" she asked, taking his hand and pulling him to sit on the side of the bed with her.

He took another long, steadying breath.

"Jamie... have you never...?" she asked tentatively. His face flushed pink.

"Well. No. I havena."

She smiled tenderly, squeezing his hand.

"Do you trust me?"

He looked at her, letting every emotion he felt show on his face.

"Aye," he said hoarsely, squeezing back. "More than anyone or anything. That's… that's why I must tell ye what I have to tell ye. Before, there was room for secrets, but no' for lies. Now… well now…” He took both of her hands in his then. "Now there's much more between us than all that. Do you agree?"

Claire's cheeks were pink and he could feel her pulse in her hands as he held them tightly.

"Yes, I agree. I trust you. What is it you need to tell me?"

“Ye have a Gift, Claire, like my mam did. She was a healer, helped keep Da’s Gift from killing him. That’s why… After she died, he didna last long. We dinna ken why, but it seems for every Fraser with the Sight, like I have, there’s someone to heal them. Da had mam. And… I have you…”

He couldn’t look at her for the last bit. She’d been willing enough to come upstairs with him, shared the tight confines of the cave the night before. But this was different, this affected her directly. The bed shifted beside him and he forced himself to look up at her. She deserved his respect.

“So when you… When I found you in your panic room? And passed out at your table?”

“Aye, ye’d used your Gift. Made the migraine go away like it was never there.”

“Jamie why didn’t you tell me sooner? All of those migraines you’ve had! I could have helped you!”

The fingers of his left hand began twitching against his leg.

“Weel… I was selfish. I wanted ye to stay wi’ me because ye wanted me. No’ because ye felt ye had an obligation to keep me alive. Murtagh wanted to tell ye as soon as we figured it out, but I told him he couldna. If anyone were to tell ye, it’d be me.”

She looked at him incredulously.

"Selfish? You stubborn Scot, you could have killed yourself! And for what? To protect me?"

"Aye to protect you!" he responded firmly. "I wanted ye, Claire. I have, from the moment I laid eyes on ye. But... I've loved ye from the moment ye stayed wi' me and saved me in that panic room. Ye kept comin' back, despite the danger and... the vision of you..."

He stopped, shaking his head.

"I couldna ask ye to stay Claire."

She looked like a hawk, he thought, staring him down with those eyes and her chin held high. Then the chin trembled, and her eyes clouded over.

"Well, I'm choosing to stay whether you ask me or not," she said defiantly, almost making him laugh and weep at the same time.

Silence fell for a moment.

"But... I would like it if you asked," she added softly.

Jamie could barely hear anything over the pounding of his heart.

“Will ye stay wi’ me, mo nighean donn? Stay always by my side? Will ye have me in this state? Wi’ our lives at risk because of who and what I am?”

“Yes,” she said, barely more than a whisper. “Yes I’ll have you in any way I can. Wild horses couldn’t stop me.”

Then she brought her lips to his once more and he was utterly lost in pure bliss. It surprised him when her tongue touched his lips, warm and wet against his skin.

“It’s alright,” she whispered, her lips brushing his as she spoke. “I won’t bite.”

“I dinna ken…” he breathed, thrilling yet again that he could speak naturally around her.

One arm hooked around his neck as she moved her legs on either side of his thighs. Her free hand grasped one of his, which was clenched in a tight fist, and slid it over her body to rest on her backside.

“Just trust me."

With a great effort, he forced his left hand to relax, stretching his fingers out over her perfectly rounded buttocks. His other arm snaked around her on pure instinct, drawing her body tight against his own as she squirmed against him.

“Wait!” she said suddenly.

He yanked his hands away before moving to catch her as she wobbled.

“What?”

“I don’t want to ruin anything. Will this… I mean if we… Will it do something to your, ah… Visions?”

Smiling smugly, he pulled her back into his arms and kissed her again. He was getting better, he thought.

“Then we’ll both be damned if it does. Though Murtagh says he didna think it changed my da’s visions any. And ye ken they had three bairns. Even for a psychic, ye have to do some things the old fashioned way.”

Claire snorted and dropped her arms around his neck again, smiling coquettishly down at him.

“In that case… I’m at your mercy, Mr. Fraser.”

She began untucking his shirt, her cool fingers deftly working at his buttons. An involuntary flinch rippled over him when she made contact with his bare skin.

“A little jumpy, are we?”

“I told ye, I’ve never…”

“Been undressed by a woman?”

Hooking a finger beneath her chin, he lifted her face to look into her eyes.

“No’ just a woman. A beautiful woman, who has held my soul and healed my body.”

A warm, pleased smile pulled at her lips as she pushed his shirt off his shoulders. She moved her hands down his chest, but he caught them.

“Fair's fair,” he said huskily, reaching for the hem of her shirt.

“Christ, Claire,” he whispered as her shirt fell to the floor.

Jamie glanced up, but then placed a kiss on the pale skin over her heart. Claire shuddered and ran a hand through his hair. His lips moved up and down as he reached around, working at that damned contraption that hid her lovely breasts from him. It sprang free, and he took her nipple in his mouth, his body almost jerking at the soft moan that escaped her lips.

That was all the encouragement he needed. He kicked out of his own trousers, eagerly helped Claire with hers, and marveled at the feel of her ivory skin. Each part of her was soft to the touch, perfectly curved to fit in his hands - as if she’d been made only for him.

He was at a complete loss about what to do with her now. Ideas and half remembered visions raced through his mind, but he couldn’t settle on one long enough to make a choice. His cock was stiff as a brass rod beneath his boxers, and she continued to kiss him in nothing but her panties. Laying slowly back, he brought her down with him.

“You should ditch those,” she said, nodding down to his boxers. “Only getting in the way.”

She giggled and wiggled her hips suggestively against him, accentuating her point.

After some struggling, he finally kicked them off his foot. Feeling suddenly insecure, he searched her face for any sign of dislike or comparison. She’d had other lovers, he knew - both because she’d told him and because he’d seen some of them in unwanted visions - and he worried she’d compare his performance to theirs.

“Don’t think so hard,” she said softly.

“Ye dinna think…”

She shook her head, dark curls bouncing with the motion.

“I firmly believe there should only be two in a bed together, unless otherwise agreed upon. I won’t think of anyone else if you don’t think of your visions.”

“I won’t,” he replied, flipping her under him before she realized what was happening.

She pulled him by his ears and kissed him again. As she did, she backed herself further onto the bed, forcing him to crawl with her to maintain contact. When she reached the spot she’d wanted, she broke the kiss. But he wasn’t ready for that yet, moving his lips to her neck. He smiled when she made a pleased sound.

Still smiling, she drew his hand down to the elastic band. Slowly, she used his hands to push the last barrier between them away. Wanting to take in the full glory of her body, he scooted away and watched as she dropped it over the side of the bed.

Her fingers danced up and down his spine, sending out tendrils of tingling sensation in their wake. His own hands couldn’t settle on just one part of her, everything was there for him to worship. When her legs parted, he felt the heat of her. One leg hooked up over his hip, she reached between them and took hold of him. He took a sharp breath, locked in her gaze.

“No turning back now,” she said, voice pitched a little higher than usual. “Are you sure about this?”

“Aye,” he answered. “Are you?”

“I think I’ve been sure for a long time.”

Then, she guided him home.

It was nothing like he’d expected. The intensity was much stronger than his visions had been. The heat of her felt as though it would burn him, but all he could do was draw himself closer. Her lips parted and she let out a sensual moan. He held still for a few moments, eyes closed, and let the new sensations wash over him.

“Stop…” she panted. “Thinking. Just be with me, Jamie. Feel me. Don’t think about it. Just do what your body is telling you to do.”

He kept his eyes shut tight, arms beginning to tremble. Then she swayed her hips, creating just a little friction.

“I dinna want to hurt ye. You’re just so small…”

“You won’t. Please, Jamie…”

“I’m no’ sure I’ll be able to stop…”

Her tawny eyes opened and he saw nothing but trust in her gaze.

“Then don’t.”

Carefully, he pulled his hips back and pushed them forward. The way her lips curved into a smile gave him a small boost of confidence. This wasn’t complicated, it wasn’t something he had to decipher and understand. So he stopped thinking and let himself just be.

Though he was still a little worried he might hurt her, he started to move a little faster. One of her hands snaked up his back and tried to grip his hair. The other reached down and sank into his buttocks, making him lurch.

Whatever sound came from her mouth was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard. Her face contorted and he repeated the lurch, eliciting another keening moan from her. A smile came to his own face, knowing he was pleasing her.

“Yes…” she purred, back arching and hips lifting in time with his.

Her other leg came around his hip and locked around him, driving him harder. He had no idea making love to a woman would be so… noisy, but he wanted to hear her make all those noises again. He kissed her lips again, fiercely, then moved to the side of her neck. Claire made a small, deep noise that spurred Jamie on even more. Suddenly something changed, like the pressure that had been building in his balls was near the bursting point.

“Claire!” he cried, trying to be heard over the sounds they both made. “Claire I canna-”

“Don’t you bloody stop now! Oh God!”

Then her body gripped his, contracting around him as if trying to draw him deeper in. He, too, cried out as white-hot release washed over him.

They lay tangled together for some time, neither able to speak or break the spell that encased them. For a few moments, he kissed whatever part of her he could reach without moving more than his head.

“Mo ghraidh,” he muttered. “Mo chridhe. Mo nighean donn.”

Claire pulled his face back to hers and kissed him slowly.

“Not bad for a rookie,” she said with a sated smile on her lips.

“Ye liked it, then?” he asked earnestly, softly brushing her hair from her face.

“Oh yes. I liked it very much, Jamie.”

He allowed himself a brief moment of proud satisfaction.

“And that… ah… The end?”

“Orgasm?” she asked, biting back a smile of amusement.

“Does that happen every time?”

With a pleased sigh, she stretched and shuddered at the reminder of their connection.

“No, not every time. It only happens if the man is a very good lover.”

“Oh. I suppose that was good then?”

“Trust me,” she said, nudging him onto his side. “That was very good.”

One last gentle kiss and she turned onto her side as well, her back to his chest. For a moment, he wasn’t sure what to do with himself.

“Will you hold me?” came her quiet voice. “I feel safer in your arms.”

“Aye, mo ghraidh. I’ll hold ye.”

She yawned and snuggled down as he pulled the quilts up over them.

“Perhaps you and Murtagh can teach me some Gaelic later.”

“Aye,” he said, trying to imagine her speaking Gaelic. “Perhaps we shall.”

Continue to Part 13

[janeykath318]

Nothing But His Fish Bones 3

[scarletwritingwolf]

The Art of Healing

Previously

Chapter 12: A Most Murtagh Evening

Memories are a most remarkable thing, but rarely are they perfect. The one thing I could be certain about; was that my memory was categorically flawed when it came to Jamie Fraser. I knew this to be true because each time I saw him; it was as though I was seeing him for the first time. Red hair gleaming, his wickedly beautiful smile displaying his perfectly straight, pearly white teeth, the expression on his face; friendly and trusting. For lack of better words, he took my breath away, and I relished in the thought that there would always be something new to learn about him, because my memories never allowed me to remember.

He was coming towards me, looking cool and casual, dressed immaculately in a navy blue suit that was clearly designer. He smiled when he caught sight of me, and took faster and greater strides to reach me sooner.

“Good evening Jamie” I said cheekily. “You, sir, are a little late.” I tapped my watch jokingly.

“I’m sorry, I feel terrible. My meeting ran late, and I couldna shake Murtagh and his questions about what I was doing tonight. I really am verra sorry.”

“It’s ok Jamie, really.” I stroked his cheek with my hand, my eyes lingering on his only for a moment. “Come on, lets go in, I’m starving.” Taking his hand I led him into the pub where he had suggested we meet.

I really wasn’t sure why I led him in, because it was quite clear from the moment we entered that he was very familiar with this particular place. Every staff member greeted him, and even some of the patrons.

I quizzed him, “Is there a reason why everyone seems to know you?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact there is, I own this place. I thought perhaps ye’d like to see it. The food here is verra good.”

“You are full of surprises. I love that you brought me here. I only have one question; is there at least a juke box?”

“Ye willna be disappointed my lady, the juke box is over in that corner there.” He pointed to a modern little box obscured by a group of rowdy Scottish men who appeared to be having some sort of a bucks night.

We ventured towards the bar, where Jamie ordered us two glasses of whiskey.

“What do ye want to eat? I can have them make anything ye like.”

I shrugged. “I’m happy to choose off the menu Jamie, I don’t need special treatment.” He promptly gave me a menu to peruse.

Jamie looked to the bartender. “Whichever drink the lady wants she gets, ok Duncan? Claire I just need to go and speak to the manager, while I’m gone choose a table we can sit at if that’s what ye’d like.”

I waved him away. The menu was quite extensive for a pub, and I was pleasantly surprised to find my favourite dish; pork medallions with mashed potato and a creamy mushroom sauce.

I ordered an espresso martini, and I watched Duncan make extravagant movements as he created it.

“Here ye are marm, enjoy. Will there be anything else?” Duncan asked.

“I’m not sure.” I admitted, I had no idea what Jamie would want, another whiskey?

“Do you know what Mr Fraser’s favourite drink is Duncan? A whiskey?”

“Mr Fraser is partial to his whiskey marm, but he enjoys his beer just as much, he is most fond of Fyne Ales Jarl.”

“Excellent, I’ll have one of those as well please.”

Jamie returned a short time later, his face alight.

“Well what is it then Mr Fraser?”

He looked at me with raised eyebrows and an innocent expression, waiting for me to elaborate.

“Nothing at all Miss Beauchamp, can a man not have secret men’s business.”

I laughed, and I felt myself getting more comfortable in my surroundings with each exchange we had. I removed my jacket as we began to discuss the different types of alcohol he had in the pub, and how he had come to own the pub itself. After twenty minutes I realised that the patrons of the pub had gone silent, and all were watching one of the male staff members wave his arms about.

He began to speak in a half yell. “Sorry ladies and gents, we’re closing early tonight, our kitchen is already closed, we are just havin’ some staffing issues. We’ll be shuttin’ shop in half an hour.”

I glared at Jamie, he returned a wide eyed look and shrugged. I suspected he had something to do with this sudden closure, surprisingly none of the people in the pub seemed irritated with this announcement. There were two other members of staff making individual apologies to each guest of the pub, and they appeared to be handing them something with each apology.

“So what do ye want to eat?” He asked me coolly.

“Didn’t that gentleman just say that the kitchen was closed?” I tested him.

“He did didn’t he? I suppose it’s good that I own this place then. Ye’ll have time to order and get your meal Sassenach.”

My heart was pounding out of my chest, he’d just called me Sassenach. I’d heard him start to call me the peculiar nickname multiple times since we’d been reunited, but he’d been good at catching himself before actually saying it.

“I’m sorry Claire, I didna mean to call ye that. I’ve been trying to forget it was ever something I called ye. Please dinna be mad.” His eyes were pleading.

“I’m not mad at all, it’s just strange to hear the name again after all this time. Please don’t apologise.” I kissed his cheek, trying to ease his tension. I wanted to change the subject quickly. “Any chance of some decent music?”

“Anything for my beautiful guest, but we may have to wait for a while before we hear our choices, the juke box has been banked up with this dance music garbage since those men from the stag party were over there.”

“I don’t mind, I’m perfectly fine with a little waiting, as long as it’s for something good.” I winked at him.

He strode over to the juke box, I watched him the entire time, admiring him. I knew I wasn’t the only one who had eyes on him, but I was content with knowing that each time he looked up his eyes connected only with mine.

“I feel like I’ve made some good solid music choices on yer behalf. Perhaps another drink?”

I had another two espresso martini’s, Jamie seemed to drink his beers as though they were water. I was beginning to feel light headed, I knew I needed food before the effects of the alcohol got worse. I looked about to realise that the pub had emptied at last.

“So lassie, would you like to dance?” Jamie stood above me holding out a hand for me to accept.

As I took his hand and he led me to the dance floor I heard the voice of Kenny Rogers on the juke box, his song ‘Islands in the Stream’ was playing. I stifled a laugh. “A favourite song of yours Mr Fraser?”

“Weel sort of.” He took me in his arms, he was warm, and the buzz of the alcohol seemed to draw me closer to him; I rested my cheek on his chest. I felt the steady movements of his breathing as he swayed gently. “Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton sang this song together at a show they put together to play for us lads in the army. I ken it’s an old song, but I heard it for the first time that day, and it always stayed with me.” I wondered how much else of his time in the army had stayed with him, I vowed to spend my life finding out.

‘Islands in the stream, that is what we are,

No one in between, how can we be wrong.’

“What do ye think Claire? Can ye live with my taste in music?” His question seemed to be silently asking more than it’s words. I was sure he wanted to ask if I had a desire to be around him long term.

“I am a big fan of Dolly Parton, so I think we’ll get along just fine Jamie.” I hoped that the reassuring smile I paired with my words would help to answer his veiled question. It had never been a question for me, there wasn’t any way for me to live my life without him. We hadn’t discussed our time apart much, it was too painful for us both to talk about just yet, but I wanted to.

‘We start and end as one, in love forever,

We can ride it together, ah-ah,

Makin’ love with each other, ah-ah.’

We danced our way through Frank Sinatra, U2 and a little Coldplay. He had most definitely chosen music to ensure that I stayed in his arms, but I had absolutely no problem with this.

I noticed when the music on the juke box came to an end, but I wasn’t sure that Jamie had, he continued swaying, holding me to him as though he was afraid to let go. I gently nudged him.

“Come Jamie, let’s get something to eat, I’m famished.”

He seemed to come out of a trance, and looked at me with such adoration it almost tore me in two. This gentle, giant soul wanted me, and I knew I could never let him down again.

We sat at the nearest table, Duncan came bustling over with more drinks, while Jamie disappeared into the kitchen with our food orders. As Duncan fussed over pouring drinks, I wondered what Jamie had in mind for the rest of the evening, and for that matter where we stood going forward. The fact that I was even asking myself the latter was a testament to how much had changed in me since I met him, after Frank I had become a strong, educated woman, and at times with Jamie I felt vulnerable, concerned that I would allow myself to go back to a place where I was so undermined by my own feelings. My feelings for Jamie were so intense they terrified me.

I heard him approaching first, and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, worried that he would read my expression.

“Are you ok Claire? You look...” He trailed off, clearing trying to decide how I looked.

“I’m fine Jamie, just hungry, that’s all.” I took his hand, drawing lines over his prominent veins with my thumb. I had been about to ask him what his plans were for the remainder of the evening, when his head suddenly snapped up to look at the door. It hadn’t been locked, the closed sign was most definitely visible, but the man walking in didn’t seem to care much.

“Ah there ye are lad.” The man in question clearly knew Jamie.

“Here I am, Murtagh. What can I do for ye?” His tone sounded playful, but his stance gave him away, he was concerned about this Murtagh being here with us, or more so, with me.

“I just wanted te see this lassie for myshelf.” He slurred the last words, obviously intoxicated.

Jamie not letting his good manners slip said “Claire this is my Godfather Murtagh, sometimes I just call him Uncle. Murtagh this is Claire.”

“A pleashure to meet ye Claire. Are ye havin’ a good time with young Jamie here?” As he asked, his eyes pierced mine. His purpose was quite evident; that was to interrogate me.

“I am, thank you.” I responded politely, being very careful to keep my tone light.

Jamie kept our fingers interlocked, wanting to keep a protective hold, but he was feigning a casual demeanour as he sat back in his chair. He was waiting, I just wasn’t sure what for.

Murtagh continued. “I’ve known Jamie since he was a small lad ye ken, and I would do anythin’ for him. I want him te be happy, I willna ever begrudge him tha’, but I want ye te understand that if ye hurt him again ye will be sorry.”

“That’s enough Murtagh. Ye’ve had too much to drink man, go home. I dinna need yer protecting.” Jamie was doing his very best to conceal the snarl in his voice. “ “Claire isna out to hurt me.”

“Aye sometimes I think ye do lad.”

I wasn’t sure what to say, I could feel tears welling, but I forced them to abate. Jamie’s grip on my fingers tightened.

“Ye’ve talked about what she did te ye have ye then Jamie? What it did te ye?” Murtagh was plainly on some sort of crusade.

“We’ve settled it Murtagh, now that’s enough.” He got up, taking his Godfather by the arm, and dragged him towards the door. “Ye need to leave, we will talk in the mornin’.”

Jamie closed the door, pacing next to it, running his fingers through his hair. I got up to go towards him.

“I’m so sorry Sassenach, I didna mean for that to happen. He’s drunk, and too focussed on my life. He willna disturb us again.” He looked truly remorseful.

“It’s ok Jamie, but I think I’m just going to go home, I’m exhausted and it might be best that you see your Godfather home safely.” I wanted time to be alone for a little while, so I could get over the sting of Murtagh’s words. I ran my hand across Jamie’s cheek reassuring him. “We should meet tomorrow Jamie, I thought perhaps we might talk properly about our time apart, so we might put it to bed so to speak.”

Jamie hesitated, I knew he wasn’t sure what to do. “Ye are a good woman Claire, I dinna want ye to be worried about what he’s said, he’s just a silly old coot.” He bent to kiss me. “I’ll come to get you tomorrow, we can talk when you feel like it. But I want ye to understand that I’ve put it to bed already, there isn’t a need for ye to feel guilt.”

As usual it was as though he could understand what I felt without my saying so.

“I’ve been thinking that I’d like ye to meet my sister and her family, if ye want to.”

“I’d like that Jamie, but warn me if I have more scorn to look forward to won’t you? Just so I know to pack my armour.” I grabbed his tie and kissed him back.