#fraser reels himself in

[verushkak70]

Fraser pulls himself back from the edge

So, with difficulty, here we see Fraser pull himself back from the edge. Look at his visible hard swallow. Look at his hand beginning to shake as it holds the gun in Gerard's face. Look at the shine of tears in his eyes, the shutting of his eyes as if to stop seeing what he is seeing (the man responsible for his father's death). The way he works his lips, tongue, teeth in the last GIF. Fraser is mad as hell. (Excellent physicality of the emotion by PG, too, btw!)

Sure, some people will argue, "Well, he was severely provoked, and he pulled himself back from doing something stupid and violent."

True. But. If he were 100% well-adjusted - like he acts for most of the rest of the series, like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth - would he ever have drawn his gun in the first place?

I love angry, hurting, messed up Fraser. I just love him to bits and I long ago lost any ability to remove that headcanon from my mind, unless I'm writing a pinch hit for a very specific prompt or Secret Santa author letter with parameters very unlike my own, in which case I compartmentalize, and put myself in the shoes and headspace of the recipient, and see Fraser their way.

But in my own imaginings and headcanon - Fraser is pretty emotionally messed up. He's doing the best that he can, of course. And, all things considered, his best is pretty good. (I'm not suggesting his grandparents were completely terrible surrogate parents, by any means. But. His late grandmother slaps her late adult son - which Fraser doesn't even see; only Fraser Sr. sees/experiences that; that is canon.)

And while it is completely understandable that Fraser would be pretty messed up emotionally/relationship-wise, of course it would definitely have repercussions in his adult life and relationships.

I'm just saying.

And I love messed up Fraser. Love him. He is my favorite version of Fraser because it makes him so human, and not a Mountie superhero at all.

[ogradyfilm]

Recently Viewed: The Whale

[The following review contains MAJOR SPOILERS; YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!]

Like we discussed yesterday, I really want you all to focus on topic sentences more. Too many of you are rushing into examples in your body paragraphs… I know these rules can feel constraining. But remember, the point of this course is to learn how to write clearly and persuasively. That’s how you can effectively communicate your ideas.

This monologue—delivered by protagonist Charlie to a group of bored, indifferent students in his online English class—is an ironic introduction to The Whale’s central themes, considering the fundamental disconnect between the content of Samuel D. Hunter’s script (adapted from his own stage play) and the substance of the finished product delivered by Darren Aronofsky. In theory, it is a film about celebrating those tiny embers of beauty that faintly illuminate an otherwise arbitrarily cruel world; it wants the audience to rebuke the characters that mock and belittle Charlie for his weight, that reel in disgust at the very sight of him. In practice, however, it approaches its hero’s obesity as a grotesque spectacle, from its opening scene—which features Charlie suffering a near fatal heart attack while masturbating to gay porn—to its extended binge-eating montage, which is shot, edited, and scored like a particularly gory murder in a slasher flick.

The fact that Brendan Fraser manages to imbue such flawed, exploitative material with genuine humanity and emotional honesty is a testament to his immense talent as an actor; he embraces the contradictions that lend Charlie complexity and nuance. Despite his tenacious optimism—his stubborn insistence that people are inherently “wonderful” and “amazing,” even when he’s repeatedly confronted with evidence to the contrary—Charlie is plagued by self-loathing, internalizing the anger and resentment that his friends and loved ones subconsciously project onto him. Indeed, because he blames himself for his misfortunes and the “inconvenience” that they cause for others, his most frequent line of dialogue is, “I’m sorry”—and Fraser makes every apology resonate with devastating authenticity.

Fraser’s performance doesn’t quite salvage the entire movie, but it certainly elevates it to a significant degree. Ultimately, The Whale works best when analyzed from a less literalist perspective; beneath its antiquated, insensitive, and appallingly problematic surface-level depiction of physical disability lurks a thoroughly compelling meditation on compassion, redemption, and reconciliation.

If only its intentions and ambitions weren’t in such direct conflict with its execution.

[fangirlinglikeabus]

catching up on wildfell weekly and i think my feelings on the assault remain...complicated

to be fair it does seem lawrence is deliberately provoking gilbert to some extent:

I gave the briefest possible answers to his queries and observations, and fell back. He fell back too, and asked if my horse was lame. I replied with a look, at which he placidly smiled.

equally gilbert does seem to be waiting for an excuse to give vent to his anger:

waiting for some more tangible cause of offence, before I opened the floodgates of my soul and poured out the dammed-up fury that was foaming and swelling within.

and i think that part of the reason this scene is disturbing to a lot of people (including me) is because of the extremity of lawrence’s reaction to being hit:

He said no more; for, impelled by some fiend at my elbow, I had seized my whip by the small end, and—swift and sudden as a flash of lightning—brought the other down upon his head. It was not without a feeling of savage satisfaction that I beheld the instant, deadly pallor that overspread his face, and the few red drops that trickled down his forehead, while he reeled a moment in his saddle, and then fell backward to the ground. The pony, surprised to be so strangely relieved of its burden, started and capered, and kicked a little, and then made use of its freedom to go and crop the grass of the hedge-bank: while its master lay as still and silent as a corpse. Had I killed him? An icy hand seemed to grasp my heart and check its pulsation, as I bent over him, gazing with breathless intensity upon the ghastly, upturned face. But no; he moved his eyelids and uttered a slight groan.

like yeah he probably should’ve known better than to keep chatting to a guy who was obviously pissed off at him (especially since according to gilbert he usually picks up VERY easily on coldness) but he also probably wasn’t expecting such a violent blow (nor, i suspect, are most people reading this book for the first time!). and i know that gilbert believes he’s defending helen’s honour but he still hasn’t like...had a conversation with her about it all even though she said she would explain things, so i find it very hard to sympathise with him once he reaches this point because it seems like he’s making decisions about and for helen without consulting her. like i’m sorry but maybe find more healthy outlets for your anger than assaulting someone my dude, even if you think he deserves it. stevie davies notes:

the preposterous violence characterising Markham’s behaviour and language to his imagined rival is analogous to the violence staple to Wuthering Heights, and the source of the objection taken by reviewers to Wildfell Hall's narrator as one who ‘would serve as the ruffian of any other novelist’ (E. P. Whipple, ‘Novels of the Season’, American Review 66, October 1848, in CH, p. 262), to whose ‘brutal temper’ Charles Kingsley objected (‘Recent Novels’, Fraser’s Magazine 39, April 1849, in CH, p. 272).

at least he brings lawrence’s pony back for him…?

i would like to point out though that there’s a reasonable level of distance in how gilbert describes himself here:

With execrations not loud but deep I left him to live or die as he could, well satisfied that I had done my duty in attempting to save him—but forgetting how I had erred in bringing him into such a condition, and how insultingly my after-services had been offered

i doubt the gilbert of middle age would behave in such a way, which i think is one of the benefits of the epistolary format as it’s used in this novel: it’s a sort of assurance that he’s improved from this really quite brutal moment

[renee-writer]

I Fought the Law Chapter 61 For the Baby

AO3

"You are the one who will be doing the tests?” Alexander asks.

 

"With a nurse and lab techs, yes.”

 

"But your!”

 

"Yes?" He stares at him. Jamie jumps up. He touches his ancestor’s shoulder.

 

“Forgive my brother’s reaction. He was raised differently than me. In a place where there were less dark skinned people.”

 

“Where would that be?” He waves off his questions. "Never mind. I promise you that I am a good doctor and will take excellent care of you both” he looks down at their forms.  "I see you have been trying to get pregnant for a few years now?"

 

"Yes. Ever since we were wed.” Elizabeth answers.

 

“You haven't missed a cycle or even been late?"

 

"No doctor. Not even once.”

 

“Alright. Don’t worry. There are multiple reasons this could be happening. Let’s start the testing.”

 

"What is first?*

 

"Well we draw blood from both of you,” Claire has explained needles, " and examine Mrs. Fraser and get a semen sample from you, Mr. Fraser.”

 

He is led into a little room with a little plastic cup. "Everything you need is in here. Just leave the cup when you are through. We will retrieve it.”

 

He nods absently at the nurse. Still reeling from the whole experience with the needles, to be told he has to sin, is all he can handle. Then he sees the reading material. His fair skin turns blood red.

 

“Relax Elizabeth.” Dr. Joe instructs. She let's her breathe and tries. Claire sits beside her and holds her hand.  "When was your last pelvic exam?

 

"  “I have never been examined thus.”  

 

  “Really!” the nurse is shocked. "You should have been as soon as you were sexually active.”

 

 "Now, no judgment Sarah." He takes the speculum, " This will open your cervix so I can exam it.” And take samples, he thinks. Without her being regularly examined, an STD is high on his list for the cause of her infertility.

 

  Alexander picks up a 'magazine ' as Jamie calls them. He opens it and immediately drops it. "God forgive me.” The lass inside is fully unclothed and spread out showing parts of herself that he hasn’t even seen of Elizabeth. He understands why this would leave a lad with a cock stand. Despite knowing it is a sin, he gets one.

 

“For the baby.” He says before taking himself in hand.

[wordtowords]

The Gadfly and the Oscars

gadfly - noun - an annoying person, especially one who provokes others into action by criticism. (Google)

Unfortunately, there are times when I can be a gadfly, but gladly, I am not alone since these are provocative times that frequently fall to criticism. Take "annoying" out of the definition, though, and the rest is not bad. If criticism, a negative, can propel people into positive action, then it's all good. Allow me a bit of space to do just that.

Last night, some of us (perhaps you included) stayed up to watch the Oscars on ABC television. For the past few years, the presentation has motivated many a gadfly to criticize it, mainly because the show has diminished in scope, digressing from truly entertaining to barely watchable. Did the content seem to be lacking in organization and purpose to you? Was it just mediocre because the cinematic nominees this year were as lackluster and self-possessed as most of the acceptance speeches? To tell you the truth, I was so bored with the ceremony that I took to doodling, and my daughter 2700 miles away in L.A., whom I was texting, took to cooking. Was anyone else other than the mothers of those involved paying attention?

Truthfully, because the Oscars are no longer creative as a whole–years ago, there were once motifs and themes to be had–I only stay up late enough to see the "In Memoriam" segment because of morbid curiosity: I want to see how many noteworthy individuals connected with the industry have passed. Usually there are a few surprises. Often someone whom I thought had died years ago comes up on the list as someone who has passed recently. Sadly, I was not surprised this year with anything other than a grieving John Travolta, who introduced the reel of lost Hollywood talent. I assumed that his tears were related to the loss of his Grease co-star Olivia Newton- John; however, since her photo and death date were somehow stricken from the records, his emotional outpouring lacked a clear connection unless he had known and had worked with everyone mentioned. I have no idea.

Of course, there is always an actor in the mix who should have won, but who winds up being slighted, which gives the gadfly additional fuel to stay in flight complaining. This year it was Austin Butler, Elvis in the film Elvis who comes off as more titillating and talented than Elvis himself, which is no small feat. According to insiders, Brendon Fraser received the honors for Best Actor because the voting members of the Academy love a comeback. Well, to that I say, because of Butler's magnificence at portraying the King on screen, long deceased Elvis saw yet another comeback, bigger and better than he had had in 1968. (I know because I was actually alive back then.) So why didn't the Academy recognize Butler's vicarious return as Elvis? You had my vote, Austin, although I am a member of the wrong academy.

Gadfly or not, I must offer this suggestion to the producers of the Oscars: You should find some truly innovative writers to weave and stitch together future remnants so that there is cohesion when it comes to the content of their three-hour variety show. And you members of the Academy need to reward actors who perform believably the most demanding roles, no matter what their age, race, culture, religion, etc. The high-school popularity contest should have left the Kodak building a long time ago, perhaps along with the real Elvis, who was most likely never there anyway :).

Power to the gadflies out there who change the status quo favorably.

#word-to-words, #slice-of-life,  #blog, #blogging, #editorial, #reading, #vocabulary, #ReadersMagnet, #spilled thoughts, #good advice, #personal-essay, #writing community, #writing, #CreativeSuggestion, #criticism

[gotham-ruaidh]

Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

This story takes place during the summer of 1987. It's the time of the Cold War, and heavy metal, and Just Say No.

Ten chapters, each with a specific song as its soundtrack.

I'm so excited to finally share it with you.

----

Chapter 1: Starry Eyes

Soundtrack: "Starry Eyes," Mötley Crüe, 1981 [click here to listen]

It was quiet here in the mountains.

Claire Beauchamp drew in a long, shaky breath of clear, crisp air, and tucked her legs up onto the seat of the Adirondack chair. Watching the sun set over the valley.

Gripping the arm of the chair with shaky hands.

Behind her on the deck, a dozen or so strangers – men and women – shuffled into their own chairs, or to square tables with board games under one arm. Chatter wafted through the door that led into The Ridge’s main building.

The brochure that Joe Abernathy had pressed into her hands, sitting in the back seat of his Jaguar sedan while his wife Gail drove them to the airport, described The Ridge as a residential treatment facility. Her mind was still reeling from the intervention, and that Gail had already packed her a duffel bag stuffed with essentials – it had all been so seamless.

There were many things Claire had wanted to block out in the two years since she’d left Frank and everything had fallen apart. Many things she had shut out from the world around her, paralyzed by pain. But she hadn’t lost all of her faculties quite yet.

Because no matter what The Ridge called itself, no matter how beautiful the landscaping of its grounds, or the plush cushions on the chairs, or the gourmet meals prepared by the in-house chef (herself five years in recovery, or so the brochure proudly proclaimed), there was no hiding what it really was.

Rehab.

Claire was there because she was an addict.

And she would stay there until she had unfucked her life.

“Excuse me?”

She turned to see a tall man, red hair down to his shoulders, colorful tattoos covering every inch of his arms and disappearing beneath the sleeves of a well-fitted black t-shirt.

“May I sit next to you?”

She shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

He flopped down into the chair, crossed his long legs, and lay both palms on the armrests, thumbs tapping a quick beat.

“First day?”

It had been forty six hours since her last fix, and pain sliced her skull. She hadn’t gone this long without in more than a year. “Yes,” she murmured.

Now his fingers joined in the tapping. “Thought so. The new ones always come in the middle of the day – that’s why Group is always in the afternoons. So we can have our individual sessions in the morning, and meet all together in the afternoon. It helps to stick to a schedule.”

She turned in the chair to look at him. He wasn’t looking at her – just gazing straight ahead – but he kept talking. “Anyway, it’ll just be a few minutes until dinner. I hope you like Mexican – they take Taco Tuesdays pretty seriously around here.”

She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I can’t remember your name. I know we introduced ourselves at Group, but it’s all just a blur.”

He turned to face her, and she could hear his smile. “Don’t worry about it. You’re Claire – pills addict. That’s what you told us, anyway.”

“It’s true.”

“Well then.” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Jamie – I’m an alcoholic. Bourbon, mostly. And a little bit of cocaine, now and again.”

She gripped his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m a sex addict, too,” he added. “John – my therapist here – he said that the more honest I am, the better it will be for me later on.”

“I appreciate your honesty,” she said, not quite sure what else to say.

“I’ve hurt a lot of people by not being honest, and by drinking, and not being honest about my drinking.” He folded his hands in his lap. Lallybroch read one tattoo inching up his left arm, and Ellen read another. “I’m on the tenth step. I’ve learned a lot so far.”

Claire stared down at her own hands – bare, except for her mother’s silver wedding band, which Uncle Lamb had given her when she was twelve. “Well, if we’re going for honesty – I’m a trauma surgeon, at one of the top hospitals in Boston. My asshole ex-husband used to hit me, and I prescribed myself some ludes to deaden everything. I wrote out the scripts to him, then took them to the pharmacy myself.” She pursed her lips, feeling his eyes on her. “I thought I had it under control – I thought that nobody noticed. Until I showed up high one day, and made a stupid mistake, and almost killed a patient.”

He was strangely quiet – and after silently counting to twenty, Claire looked up at him. He was still tapping his fingers against the armrest of the chair, though in a more structured, organized rhythm. Nodding his head. Thinking.

“It was my best friend who got me here,” he said softly. “I’ve known him since we were kids – he even married my sister. He saw what I was doing to myself, how much I was hurting her, and hurting the thing that he and I had worked so hard to build.” A spray of black and white stars flexed above his elbow. “Who got you here?”

“My best friend. We went to medical school together – he was my man of honor at my wedding. He and his wife staged a full-on intervention.”

Jamie’s brows lifted. “Wow.”

She nodded, encouraged. “I’d already been indefinitely suspended without pay from the hospital. I figured, what do I have to lose?”

“Yeah. We have to reach that point.”

A metallic clang pierced the air – and Claire jumped.

Jamie smiled. “That’s the literal dinner bell. Like I said, I hope you like tacos.”

Claire slid forward in the chair and stood, stretching. “I could eat anything right about now. I’m not too picky.”

Now Jamie stood – and smiled down at her. “I’m helping get everyone seated tonight – we all pick up chores around here. See you in there?”

She smiled back. “Yeah. And thanks for talking to me.”

“No sweat.” Quickly he stepped away from her and across the deck toward the door back inside.

“Hey.”

Claire turned to see a woman – young, dark-haired, size zero – remove her enormous sunglasses.

“Yes?”

“I can’t believe you were talking to him!” she exclaimed.

Claire shoved her hands into her pockets. “What do you mean?”

The woman shook her head. “Do you even know who he is?”

“He introduced himself. Seemed nice enough. Why?”

The woman huffed and flipped her hair over one shoulder. “That’s Jamie Fraser. You know – the singer and lead guitarist in Print?”

“Print?” Claire searched her scattered memory. “Isn’t that some hard rock band?”

“Not just some band – the biggest band in the world for at least five years now. Like, dozens of hits, videos on MTV 24/7, big stadium tours, and armloads of awards. I’ve been trying to get his attention since I got here! And he just walked right up to you!”

It had been a long day. Claire was hungry, and tired, and wanted nothing more than an aspirin and a pillow – maybe a taco first. Definitely not any more time with this girl.

“Well, thanks for the info – ”

“Geneva,” the woman explained. “I’m an alcoholic. You?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Claire made a beeline for the door.

[jamiemackenziefraser]

All That Was Fair

Chapter 17: A Faerie and a Fool

Summary: Jamie and Claire enjoy their reunion

Read on AO3

Read chapter 17 on tumblr below the cut

Previous, master list, next

a/n: Me: Can I skip a little time somewhere in this story? Please? Just a bit?

The Story: no. You must write moment for moment or you’ll die.

--Anyway... we pick up directly where the last chapter left off hahaha. Welcome to the beginning of Arc II :)

Chapter 17: A Faerie and a Fool

***

It felt like a dream. Jamie’s deepest desires— hopes so great he’d been paralyzed in the face of them— were contained in the form of the faerie in his arms who was holding on to him like she was ready to build a home there. 

“You really love me?” he asked, scarcely allowing himself to believe it was real. 

“Yes, Jamie—” was all she managed to breathe out before Jamie cut her off with another exuberant kiss. He couldn’t possibly spend another moment knowing that she loved him— knowing she was going to stay with him— and not be kissing her. 

So damn long had he ached for this, but that only made it all the sweeter as he savored the feeling of her smiling into the kiss. He had imagined more times than he’d care to admit, and the mind-numbing flawless reality overshadowed anything he could have dreamed. She was perfect. More than perfect. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she would be his everything for eternity. 

There was no way he could ever stop. He only managed to pull away for tiny gasps of air before leaning in again, melding his mouth to hers like his life depended on it. He was drunk on the feeling. The intoxication bubbled up inside him until he was dizzy with it. 

His brain, which had been on overdrive for weeks now, had finally quieted, and his torn heart was mending contentedly in the peace and knowledge of her love. 

“Jamie,” she gasped. A wee hand pushed gently against his chest, so he reluctantly drew back, looking down at her with soft eyes. “I can’t breathe,” she mustered with a bright smile that indicated she didn’t actually mind in the least. 

“Sorry,” he panted with a sheepish expression, “it’s jes’ that I was dreamin’ of that since the moment we met and now I canna seem tae stop.” 

“Since we met?” she questioned. Her head tilted up slightly. 

“Aye. For days I’ve been tryin’ to talk myself out of my feelin’s for ye. I didna want to take advantage of ye— me bein’ yer only anchor in the human world. I couldna risk it…”

“Only I wanted you this whole time,” she whispered with an edge of something akin to desperation. 

“You— you have?” He gasped. He reeled with the revelation that all this time… all this time she’d felt the same? “Oh Christ! Oh God, Claire. I’ve been a bloody fool.” 

“I told you,” she said with a playful smile. Growing more serious again, she continued, “I knew you were mine. We’re connected, Jamie. I can’t even explain it, but I’ve known for a while now that we aren’t meant to be parted.”

Jamie had to resist the urge to cry that was welling up inside him. 

“Aye. Ye’re mine. And I’m yours.” 

He gathered her in again, feeling like his heart would surely burst. He wound his arms around her back and molded her body to his before taking her lips again. The kiss was slow and languid, and something about the tenderness made the impulse to sob with joy all the more compelling. It was finally setting in, truly, that this beautiful, compassionate, enchanting creature was his to love and care for forever. 

It was then that Jamie noticed a warmth tingling through his veins. The sensation was similar to when an extremity falls asleep— like tiny pinpricks— only it felt pleasant. The feeling seemed to course through his body from center to finger tips, caressing him, taking all the hurt away. As he kissed Claire, he reveled in the gentle buzz. 

His eyes fluttered open, blissfully intoxicated by her and wanting to see her expression, and was startled to find light emanating from her hands. One of her arms was wrapped around Jamie’s neck while the other was pressed to his side, and her eyes were closed as she found herself caught up in him. But the hand against his side was glowing with golden light, and Jamie’s brain managed to identify that as the source of the sensation coursing through him. 

“Claire,” he murmured, breaking away from her lips. 

Her eyes remained close in contented bliss as she dreamily responded, “Jamie?” 

He wasn’t sure exactly how to ask her what she was doing, but after he remained quiet for a second, her eyes popped open. They went wide as she looked down and noticed her glowing hand where it rested familiarly over Jamie’s ribs. 

“Oh,” she gasped. 

A flush rose in her cheeks as she quickly withdrew her hand. The glowing ceased at once, along with the warmth inside of Jamie, and he actually found himself mourning the loss of it. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, an abashed smile creeping onto her face. 

“Dinna fash, it— it felt nice. What... was that, Sassenach?” Jamie stuttered over his words as a slight blush rose in his neck as well, although he wasn’t entirely sure what he was blushing about. 

“I— I’d tapped into your energy. Your center. Essentially I was healing you, although you don’t have anything to heal at the moment,” she patted his stomach in appreciation, and Jamie felt a swell of pride. 

“Oh,” was all he could say. He looked down at her in enrapturement, feeling so incredibly lost in the wonder of her. There was so much he had yet to learn. 

Distracted as he was, Claire was still speaking. 

“It’s not surprising it happened now. It’s tied to intense emotion, you see…” she said. 

Jamie broke free from his trance-like state, blinking in surprise at this new tidbit. “Is that so? Ye can manipulate energy better when ye’re feelin’ strong emotions?” 

She gave him a nod, “Don’t even ask me how it works. I think I’m just more in-tune with the energy around me in hyper-aware states.” 

“And what extreme emotion are ye feelin’ now, mo nighean donn?” he asked her, a bit teasingly despite his very real longing to hear her talk about it. He hovered his lips closer, leaning down to her while keeping their eyes locked. 

“Agitation that you’re a bloody fool, Jamie Fraser!” she teased, narrowing her eyes in mock frustration and pulling away from his lips that were about to descend to take hers. 

Jamie laughed— taken aback— and pursued her, wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her against him. 

“Is that so?” he asked huskily, raising his brows. 

“Well… that and a few other things…” she said with a smirk. 

“What might those be?” Jamie asked, successfully having drawn nearer to her again so that their breaths mingled together in the tiny space between their lips. He could feel her heart beating against his chest, quick as a rabbit’s. She was still playfully leaning back from him, struggling to keep the distance between them to the point that the only thing keeping her upright was Jamie’s grip. 

“Love,” she answered, her face turning from playful to serious, “relief. When you left me on that hill, Jamie Fraser, I thought my heart would surely break. But now… now I’ve never been so happy.” 

He couldn’t stop himself then. His body seemed to move all on his own as he kissed her, making a thousand promises and apologies. Delighting in the fact that she was his. Feeling the same onslaught of emotion as she was. 

“I’m sorry,” he said against her lips, cupping the back of her head to hold her against him, “I’m sorry I left ye there wi’ out even askin’ ye what it was you wanted. Ye’re right, I’m a bloody fool. But I’ve never been such a lucky bastard as I am right now.” 

“I forgive you,” she said breathlessly, her lips brushing his, “I forgive you, Jamie. Just never leave me again.” 

“I promise.” Recognizing the gravity of the moment, Jamie tore himself away from her mouth so he could look her in the eyes. Meeting that honey-gold gaze that made his knees go weak, he repeated, “I promise ye, mo nighean donn. If it is in my power, I wouldna have us parted ever again.” 

“Good,” she said firmly, “because I bloody well cannot do without you, Jamie Fraser.” 

Her hand came up to stroke along his jaw, punctuating her point. Tiny tingles of warmth followed in its wake, and Jamie smiled, feeling the truth of her words in his very bones. 

Smiling down at her, he couldn’t resist leaning forward to press a sweet kiss to her forehead. 

It blew his mind that he could do that now. To know she wanted his touch… that he would act on all the impulses he’d been stamping down for weeks… it was pure bliss. 

“Well…” he said warmly as he drew back, “shall we go, mo ghraidh?” 

She smiled up at him, the crinkles around the corners of her eyes the most adorable thing he’d ever laid eyes on. She breathed “yes,” and then added, as if she wanted so badly to say it again, “I love you, Jamie.” 

***

a/n: It was a shorter chapter but the next chapter makes up for it, I just had to split it there. Should have the next one up on Sunday! Also, I forgot to mention last time, but I’m on twitter now! @jamiemackfraser if you want to keep up with me there. Thanks so much for reading, darlings <3

Next

[mymelodyheart]

Miles Between Us Chapter 8 ~Light vs Dark~

Previously in All in a Day's Work ...

A voice raced through her consciousness, telling her this was the way forward. She knew he needed his control back before he would be able to speak to her. So she got down on her knees and pulled his pants down. 

When he wrapped her hair in his fist and tilted her head back, she smiled. "Now, let's get dirty and exorcise those pesky brain chatter, shall we?" Before he could reply, she took him full in her mouth and worshipped him with her love, absorbing every frustrated growl that ripped from his throat and every emotion that poured out of him with every roll of his hips. 

She pushed him to the edge and over until he found his release, and his loud cries echoed in the air. When he shattered around her, his body slumped onto the floor and into her arms.

Claire knew they had a long night ahead of them, so she cradled him, waiting patiently for his breathing to calm. Later after she bathed him, they would talk, but for now, she was contented just to hold him a little while longer, as she wondered how many of Jamie's demons she would have to slay tonight and if love would be enough to conquer his hell.

If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

If you wish to read this from the beginning:

AO3 link

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 Jamie reached over to the other side of the bed and stilled when all he grabbed was air. His eyes instantly flew open, and he wondered why he was in bed. He jackknifed into a sitting position, his muscles tensing against the sudden alarm that spiked through his nerves, but when he saw the sliver of light under the door and heard Claire's movement in the bathroom, he eased back onto the mattress with a sigh. 

Memories from earlier suddenly came rushing back to him. He'd arrived home, reeling with the need to expend energy, but not in the healthiest of ways. He'd ran from work after Willie had sent him home, and when he'd arrived to find Claire in the kitchen, the rush of adrenaline had buzzed through him like mad. Though he'd made up with his sister after their confrontation, the run to the cottage hadn't relieved the buildup of anxiety and guilt, but one thing had been clear throughout ...the need to see Claire had been paramount. She'd sensed something was off, but he hadn't anticipated her reading what he'd needed at that moment when he'd himself had no words for the volatile sensation raging within him. Ever since she'd arrived in his life, she'd been unintentionally rearranging everything, and all the painstaking layers he'd patched together over his broken parts were slowly being stripped away, little by little, to reveal what he'd buried underneath. 

Earlier, she'd ripped another layer off when she'd offered her body for his own release. Despite rebelling against it, his body had a mind of its own, taking his fill like a starved man and pacifying the storm within. It had troubled him to see her pleasuring him on her knees and not had been able to reciprocate back, but she'd soothed him with words and her hands. He recalled the shame and fear that had shot through his bloodstream when he thought he'd hurt her with his rough play, but the moment she'd touched him, he'd lost track of everything, the mind-bending pleasure obscuring all reasons, making him feel depleted and whole at the same time. After she'd bathed him as if he was a bairn, she'd towelled his body dry and massaged his back until his limbs had gone pliant and heavy. And just before he'd dozed off, she'd whispered into his ears, "Rest now, my love and later we'll talk." He couldn't argue, even if he'd wanted to. Because, in her, he found his equilibrium, and his skeletons didn't rattle as much whenever she was around. 

He'd just switched on the bedside lamp when the bathroom door opened, and Claire walked in wearing his bathrobe, the sheer size of it almost drowning her small frame. He couldn't help the smile forming his lips. It looked ridiculously too big on her but at the same time too adorable for words. He pushed himself up and patted the space next to him.

Watching her climbed the bed and crawl on all fours, he extended his arm out in an invitation to nestle against him. "How long was I out?" he asked. 

"An hour tops," she replied, kissing him on the lips. Instead of huddling into his arms, she sat cross-legged, facing him, a touch of worry dimming her eyes. "You were knocked out."

"Really? Only an hour? I had no intention of falling asleep. I must have been tired. I feel like I've slept the whole night." Feeling slightly disappointed he couldn't put his arms around her, he took her hand instead and twined their fingers together. 

"Willie dropped off your car, and I have your keys here," she said, pulling them from the pocket of the bathrobe and placing them on the mattress. "How are you feeling?

"Relaxed."

"That's good," she whispered, squeezing his hand.

His thumb brushed the inside of her wrist. "What ye did earlier ..." He felt a stirring in his loins when he remembered her mouth around him. "I would like to verra much do the same for ye if ye'd allow me."

"Jamie ..." she sighed, giving him a small warning look.

He shrugged, his mischievous smile telling her, Oh well! I tried. They eyed each other for a few heartbeats, a silent understanding passing between them. Jamie knew she was patiently waiting for him to initiate the talk. There was no way around it. Not even sex was going to get in the way. It had been a long time coming, and he owed her some explanations. "So ye want to talk ..."

"Would you like to have your dinner first? You haven't eaten yet."

"No, I'm good."

"Good. Let me know if you need anything."

"Aye ..." He moved into a more comfortable position. "Let's get this done and over with."

She gave him an encouraging nod. "Take your time. Whenever you're ready."

"Just a wee warning, Sassenach." He winked at her when he noticed her frown. "If this starts to feel like a therapist appointment, bear in mind I've noted all the available exits," he joked to lighten the mood.

It worked. The corner of her lips twitched. "I'll try my utmost best to keep that in mind."

He settled against the headboard and took a couple of cleansing breaths. It cleared his head a wee bit, allowing him to formulate the right words. Words that wouldn't sound like he was losing his mind. "Guilt," he began. "I told ye already before ...I have a bad case of it." His throat closed up. "It's what keeps me awake most nights, replaying all those things I didnae do right. As most insomniacs would know, nothing solves sleeplessness like a nice warm glass of despair and regret."

A flicker of worry flashed across her face. "Jamie, you told me you were feeling better." She scooted closer to him. "Have you been keeping the truth from me? Because if you are, it's not helping matters."

"No, Sassenach." He shooked his head. "I was telling ye the truth. I was feeling better, but there have been many strange things happening in the past that's just coming to light. The more I try to piece things together, the weirder it gets." He massaged his temple with his fingers. "Christ! Where do I begin?"

"Alright, one thing at a time." She paused, and he saw the cogs behind her eyes, turning. She appeared to be contemplating the best way to make it easy for him. "Did something happened at work earlier?" she asked.

He sighed. "Aye. I blew my top at work. It's unlike me to lose my head like that, especially in front of the other workers. It's kind of frightening when your emotions are beyond your control."

"Did it have anything to do with your episodes?"

"Probably. I'm not sure anymore."

"When you came home earlier, you really looked stressed, Jamie."

He stared at her and thought of the events that day. Ah, shite! Why is this so fucking difficult? They're only in the early phases of their relationship, and already she's tangled up in his web of messed-up issues. Surely this wasn't what she'd bargained for when she decided to take a chance on him? She only had a few days before she returned back to London, but here they were, it's early evening, cooped up in his bedroom trying to sort out his fucked-up head when they could be out on romantic dates. No one, except for his family, had really seen the true depths of his issues, and he'd coped fine for a long time without talking about it. Man up, Fraser - get to the bottom of it! Think of Harry! 

"My sister and I had a fight," he finally said. "But I dinnae think the fight triggered anything. Or maybe a little. Ye see, it's no' the first time we've had a squabble like that. I think the beginning of the episode has more to do with something that has been building up for the last few days. Odd dreams, memories coming to the surface and such. And the sibling bicker was the last straw."

"What do you mean?" she asked. "Has this something to do with your dream the other night? You told me you had a strange dream and you had trouble sleeping."

His heart lurched as he recalled the dream. "Aye. But it goes way before that. Partly, it has something to do with that ..." He hesitated for a moment. "...and with ye."

"With me?" She visibly braced herself, a worried frown appearing on her brows. "Jamie ...if you're concerned about me not being able to cope with your condition and leaving you, you thought wrong. I care for you, and I want to help. But I can't help you if I don't understand what's going on. Whatever you're going through, we'll face it together."

He felt encouraged by the hopeful look she gave him. "But ye dinnae ken half of it."

"No, I don't," she agreed. "But we'll get through it together. Painful as it is to talk about what's hurting you, suppressing it will only make it worse, and there's a danger you could lose yourself and forget the person you are and all the good you have done in the process. If you're waiting for time to erase all those emotional pain, it's not going to happen, Jamie. I know this because I carry a lot of pain, too, and time has done nought to erase it. You just have to acknowledge it and learn to let it go." 

His heart pounded. "This can open up all sorts of hurt, Sassenach ...for ye."

She studied him closely. "Why are you so worried about me getting hurt, Jamie? Ye're the one suffering from this condition."

His gaze lifted to meet hers, and a throbbing began underneath his collarbone. He wondered how much he could reveal about her parents' death without him disintegrating in front of her and scaring her away for good. This is the part where the room would normally close in on him, and then he would start to fidget and eventually clamp up. An uncomfortable pressure stretched against his rib cage, making it difficult to suck in a breath. They were already at the point of no return. But Claire's eyes instantly grounded him, turning the chaos in his head from a bright, blazing red to a cool, soothing blue. 

He swallowed his mounting anxiety, focusing on healing what had been damaged inside of him. "Before anything else, Sassenach ...what do ye remember about yer parents' death?"

"Wot?" Her voice sounded throaty. "Why is it relevant?"

He loathed the sudden uncertainty sneaking into her expression. He wished he could go back and take back the words. "I'm sorry, but it's pertinent that I know."

She let go of his hand and rubbed her palms repeatedly along her thighs. "I -I was with my parents when the accident happened. I never told you this part before."

The image of young Claire trapped at the back seat of the car flared to life. His head fell forward with a groan, and when she touched his shoulder, he waved a hand and motioned for her to go on.

"I don't remember much except for the feeling of being very frightened and wanting to be with my mother. After that, everything was a blur."

"Have ye ever talked to your uncle about it?" 

"Sort of," she said, scrunching up her shoulders. "When I was old enough to understand. But never in-depth." She stopped and eyed him suspiciously. "Jamie, what's with the questions about my parents? Are you trying to change the direction of this conversation?"

"No! No' at all!" He shifted position and squeezed his eyes shut for a beat. When he opened them again, he puffed out a breath. "Your parents ...the car ...I was there when it happened." She looked bewildered, but he didn't stop. "I was on my way to see my godfather. I-I was ten. And I had this ..."

"What do you mean you were there?"

Oh, God, give me strength. "I saw yer parents' accident," he said rapidly. She gasped and cupped a hand over her mouth. Shaking his head, he continued. "I ...I always thought my condition began right after my best mate died in the war zone. But it was way before that. I saw something that a child should never have to see, but I did. I would have told ye all these sooner if I had known. The dream ...I had the other night brought back all those horrific memories. Christ, Sassenach ..." He dropped his head into his hands. "I wish there's an easier way to say this. I'm so sorry for bringing this up, and I just cannae ..."

"Jamie ..." 

Then the dam shattered, and everything came pouring out of him. He told her how Harry had first appeared into his life, coming to his aid in Glasgow when he'd fallen down onto his knees while going through an episode. And the mysterious ways the older man would pop up whenever he was in dire need of help. He spoke of his suspicions of what or who he'd thought Harry might have been after his family had questioned his friend's identity over New Year's Eve lunch at Lallybroch. And how his theory had been further validated the moment Murtagh had mentioned having known Claire's parents. Then his voice faltered when he told her what his godfather had told him the other day, about him being witness to her parents' accident as a young boy. And how seeing uncle Lamb's similarity to Harry had triggered the dream and brought back all the suppressed memories. He told her how he'd held her that fateful day and how the memories of that event changed him forever, vowing to himself nothing like that would ever happen again under his watch.

By the time Jamie finished, he felt weightless. Like he'd been lugging around sandbags on his shoulders all his life, and they'd just been ripped open, dumping their contents onto the ground.

When he finally glanced up, Claire was immobile, staring at the wall behind him. The unfocused expression he'd seen the other night when he'd asked about her parents was back, only this time she appeared more thoughtful.

"Sassenach?"

Her gaze cut to his. "So you knew my dad."

"I did." She must have sensed his sincerity because she closed her eyes and her lips quivered a bit as if she's trying her hardest to keep her emotions in check. Christ, he wanted to drag her away from all the pain he'd just brought up. He didn't like seeing her like this. He'd told her more than he'd been prepared to, and they should call it a wrap for now. But he needed to know if there were any mental scars she'd been nursing and if so, he wondered if he'd made it worse. If he did, he'd never forgive himself. "Sassenach, please tell me ye're alright."

Her gaze lifted to meet his, and she hugged herself close. "I think so," she whispered. "Just give me a few minutes to let it all sink in, alright? Don't give up on me just yet." They simultaneously took a deep breath, making her smile at the realisation. He resisted the urge to pull her onto his lap and focused on what she had to say. He'd already said his bit, and now it was her turn. So he listened. "That moment at the pub, when I first laid eyes on you, I had this strong feeling we've always known each other. I even said to myself, maybe we did ...in another lifetime. All this while we had no idea we were both connected through my dad."

"Aye, I felt the same way, Sassenach, and I put it down simply to a strong attraction between us. I even thought it would pass, but the more I got to know ye, the more I wanted more of ye. It frightened the hell of me, firstly because of where ye live. I didnae think our relationship could work with my condition. And secondly, because I didnae want my burden to be yer burden. It would kill me if ye had to go through what I've been going through almost all my life."

She seemed transfixed as she made a move towards him, reminding him of the way she'd looked just before they're about to make love. Pressure rolled off him the moment she straddled his lap, leaving him almost light-headed when she tenderly placed a hand against the side of his face. "Do you realise what an extraordinary man you are?" She tunnelled her fingers through his hair, making his eyelids fall to half-mast. "You see, Jamie ...only good men feel the load of their burdens. And exceptional ones like you persist on taking more. Because of you, I want to be a better person and take some of your burdens. The same way you've carried the burden of my parents' death all this while." She laid her head into the crook of his shoulder, snuggling into his neck in a way that somehow mended a broken part of him. "Growing up without them has been hard, and it still pains me a lot when I think of what could have been. But I realise now, sometimes death has a heart, and we can't beat ourselves up for recognising it." A few heartbeats passed before she met his gaze. "Out of tragedy, we found each other, and that means their death must count for something, don't you think?"

The simplicity of her words, her acceptance of their past, the vulnerable girl he saw underneath the confident woman she was today reached every damaged corner of his being. There was no choice but to press their bodies together.

He pulled her closer and gently combed his fingers through her curls as he brushed his lips against hers. His thumb caressed her cheek before cupping it in his hand. When she smiled, his fingers tugged her chin to bring her mouth back to his. The kiss deepened, his fingers fumbling with the ties of the bathrobe she's wearing before pushing it down over her shoulders. Fluidly, never breaking contact, his lips travelled down her throat, her back arching to offer her breast. He was about to take a nipple to his mouth when he noticed a band of bruise circling her arm. He jerked back and realised there was an identical one on her other arm.

A sick feeling settling in his gut, he touched one of the bruises with his index finger. "What's this?" he asked, even though deep inside, he knew the answer already.

She rubbed it with a hand as if it was nothing. "Jamie, don't worry about it. I have pale skin, and I bruise like a peach."

He ground his teeth and shook his head. "I did this earlier, didn't I? When I came home from work, right after the fight with Jenny."

When she flinched, he felt like a bucket of ice-cold water had been thrown over him. He lifted her off his lap and got out of bed, and went to stand by the window.

"Jamie, it was nothing. We were playing rough, and these things happen."

He could feel the darkness coming back again, trying to shroud him. He needed to concentrate on his breathing. When a woman like Claire loved with such fierceness, surely that love should have enough light to push the dark away. But he was coming down hard and fast, and the sick feeling in his guts was trying to make its way up, making him want to gag.

He heard her approach, and he steeled himself when she wrapped her arms around his middle and laid her head on the centre of his back. "Jamie, you didn't hurt me. You have to believe me."

How could he want Claire's love and feel the unshakable compulsion to run away at the same time? Her arms were circled around him so tight, he thought she might be trying to join them together as one. A huge part of him wanted them joined together, but the darker side of him was scared to death. He'd allowed her to soothe him with every word, every touch. But now it was high time to get rid of the blinders. His chest hurt, and every fear he'd succeeded to overcome throughout the last few days poured down on his head.

Claire shouldn't want the man he'd become, who had a tendency to inflict pain and bruises on her skin when under the influence of his episodes even if it wasn't intended. He thought of Jenny earlier and the frightened look on her face, his fists curled, ready to cause injury. This relationship with Claire would be over as soon as she realised she'd saddled herself with a sick man with the potential to be violent, and he knew he wouldn't be able to bear it when that day came. It was up to him to make sure she didn't make this mistake because she deserved more, and he loved her too much to allow her to be blinded by their love. He didn't want her to make that error. 

"Claire ...I need to go."

Claire turned him to face her, weariness dimming her normally bright amber eyes. He'd done this to her, snuffed out the light in her. But she was so beautiful, her curls, wrecked and wild, mouth puffy from their kisses. "I'm not letting you go, Jamie. We're in this together. You have to believe me when I say you didn't hurt me and that you are a good man. You don't have it in you to hurt anyone."

Her words were hot irons branding his insides. "Dinnae say those things in the heat of the moment. Ye're too good of a person to realise when something bad is standing right under yer nose."

"You're not making any sense Jamie. Come back to bed, please ...and we'll talk it over." She was close to tears, and it was breaking his heart to see her like this. "I meant it when I said I love you and nothing ...not even this condition that you have will drive me away from you."

Jamie exhaled a sharp breath. "I need to clear my head." He walked away from her and grabbed the jeans, hanging neatly over the chair.

"I know what you're trying to do, Jamie. I can see right through you. You want to leave me because you think you're a danger to me. You're wrong." She tugged his arm and attempted to pull him towards her, but he remained still, looking anywhere but into her eyes. She grasped his face with both her hands, forcing him to look at her. "Look at me! I want you to know I'm not afraid of a fight. Just tell me what I'm up against so I can knock it down for you."

It took a lot of willpower to remain upright and resist the urge to voice out his fears. He knew she would be able to defeat his doubts, but for how long? Those fears would grow back even bigger and more persistent once time had passed and the outside world began to encroach on them. "Let me go, Sassenach."

"Never, Jamie. You said on the day before I left for London we were in this together, you and I. I'm holding my side of the bargain, and I will not let you go. So you better get used to that." 

He turned away and started to scramble for the rest of his clothes. When he finished pulling up his jeans and putting on his t-shirt and shoes, it took him what seemed like an eternity to face her. Her face was ashen as she drew the bathrobe around her. "I'm done talking, for now, Claire."

Tears streamed down her face as he grabbed his phone and keys and made his way out. He couldn't get out of the cottage fast enough. His heart hammered, his ears started to ring, his lungs squeezing out the last air. He'd hurt her. He'd seen the bruises with his eyes, and now she's crying because of him. He needed to get out fast to clear his head.

She followed him closely behind. "Please tell me where you're going, Jamie. At least give me that," she pleaded.

He couldn't stand to see her tears anymore or hear the plea in her voice. He was doing what's right for her because he loved her too much. He wasn't even sure where he was going or if anyone would be safe in his presence. All he could think of was how frightened his sister had looked at him and the bruises he'd inflicted in Claire's arms. He needed to get as far away as possible, away from the people he loved.

He got into his car, slammed the door, and started the engine. 

Claire banged on his window, her face wet with tears. "Don't do this, Jamie. We can fix this together. Please don't go. I'm begging you." 

"I love you, Sassenach. I love you so much," he mumbled under his breath as he jerked his car into gear, reversing from his driveaway. The wheels spun and screeched as he pulled away, his body shaking and his heart shattering into tiny pieces. 

Claire's safe now, he reassured himself, gripping the steering wheel tight, safe and far from the stifling darkness closing in.  

..........

Claire watched Jamie's car disappear into the darkness. She wanted to scream and crumple to the ground out of sheer despair and fear. But she realised her presence of mind was needed at this moment. She needed to call someone and alert them to what happened. Jamie could be in danger. Willie!

She ran back to the house and grabbed her phone. With shaking fingers, she wiped the tears from her eyes and tapped on the screen. She'd just managed to find Willie's name when her phone rang. She saw it was her uncle Lamb. Oh God now's not the time. Though frustrated, she answered. "Hello?"

The line crackled before uncle Lamb spoke. "Sweetheart, it's me. I hope the Scottish weather is holding up because I'm on my way for a visit. We had another setback at work, and I didn't want to hang around, scratching my arse doing nothing. I'll be arriving in four days. I hope you'll still be there; otherwise, I'll change my flight ticket to London."

Not wanting to alert her uncle with her worries about Jamie, she cleared her throat and tried to sound cheerful. "That's great! I'll be here, and I can't wait to see you! But I really need to run along. So many things going on." It wasn't a lie, but she would call him back once she'd sorted out this mess she was dealing with. "I'll call you later."

"That's fine, darling. I can't wait to meet, Jamie ..."

Oh, dear, God, please help me.

  Dear Readers,

Firstly, I'm sorry if this took slightly longer to update. My excuse: my computer has gone funny on me. I need to buy a new PC, and I've been busy looking on the net for one, hence the delay of this update.

Moving along, I'm asking you to please bear with me with this chapter. I understand it's a bit heavy and slightly dark, but it had to be done because it is necessary if the story is to gel together. Despite the heavy undertone of this latest update, I hope you've enjoyed it, and you get what I'm trying to put across. On a much brighter note, thank you so much for your feedback from the previous chapter. I love it when I read your thoughts about a scene or plot. They are so appreciated, and I'm already looking forward to what you think of this latest instalment. Meanwhile, wishing you a great start to the week. Take care of yourself always and be safe. Much love.X

[magnoliasinbloom]

Lie To Me - 9

AO3 :: Previously

Claire blinks, visibly baffled. For a moment, she doesn’t even know what to say, processing what Jamie’s revelation means for their own relationship. She shakes her head to clear it. “You say that having children is one way for your uncles to take the land. How do you manage to not… you know?” Claire blushes.

“Och, Sassenach, I’ve told them that the burns may have made me… unable to sire children. Nerve damage and such.” Jamie matches her reddening cheeks. They both know he is perfectly capable of performing.

“The other way they win is if you—you die. Does this mean that they’ve tried that?”

“Not yet. I agreed to marry as well because Jenny has bairns of her own, including boys. They can inherit too, but I dinna wish my uncles to harm them in their pursuit of wealth and power.” Jamie’s voice is hard. “There was the fire, but that was merely a happy accident that didna turn out as well as they would have hoped.”

“The fire? Your scars?” Claire asks, and Jamie and Murtagh exchange glances.

“Start at the beginning, a bhalaich. Dinna confuse the puir lassie.” Murtagh pours them another tumblerful. Claire is still nursing the first drink, her mind reeling with the information regarding Jamie’s marriage.

“A few years ago, I was working late at night at the Leoch office building. I was still inexperienced, tryin’ to prove meself at the job. I had a colleague; his name was Alexander McGregor.” Jamie’s eyes are full of shame, but his voice is steady. “He had stayed that night too. When I was finally leaving, I noticed he was in a private conference room, with the blinds drawn. That was smart, for Alex knew there were cameras in there. I thought it might be something serious, for their talk grew so heated I could hear the argument coming from the room. I thought I’d knock and defuse the situation.” Jamie paused to take a deep draught. Claire is tempted to reach for his hand and comfort him, but senses this is a story he has to tell for himself.

“Before I could turn the doorknob, I heard a muffled gunshot and I broke into the room. I could only see Alex for a second, slumped in a chair, blood pouring from a hole in his stomach. The man struck me in the heid wi’ the gun, and I dropped like a stone.” Claire gasps softly.

Jamie plows ahead resolutely. “I woke up a few minutes later when I smelled the smoke, the gun in my own hand, and it was already too late. Alex was dead, and the room was up in flames. The man had rigged the wiring on the overhead lights when he left and caused the fire, disabling the sprinklers too. Wi’ the closed door, it was an inferno. My back was seared and blistered, the skin peeling off as I tried to get Alex’s body out. Or so the doctors told me.  ‘Twas a miracle I survived at all.”

Murtagh clears his throat. “He was in the hospital for a month. Jenny and I were terribly worried, thinking he might not pull through.”

“But why?” Claire bursts out, bewildered. “Why kill Alex?”

“Alex discovered internal documents that implicated men in power, links to bank accounts of several police officers, judges, and politicians on Leoch Holdings’ payroll. My uncles were—are—trading money for favors, overturning convictions, and legislating in the company’s interests.”

“During the investigations, we found no trace of any document in the room, most everything had burned up,” Murtagh says. “There was also no CCTV footage available. Someone had tampered with the video.” With this, the old man stood up, and unlocked a metal filing cabinet next to his desk. Claire watched in fascination as he manipulated a false bottom and extracted a fat manila envelope. “But then we got these.”

“Murtagh took care of my dingy flat while I was in hospital. Alex had messengered over copies of the documents in secret—wise of him, to leave no digital trace. There was a letter explaining what it all meant, and who the man was—Stephen Bonnet, he’s a commander in the force. Murtagh saw it, and could verify that my name was not on the records. Therefore, I was unlikely to be involved in my uncles’ dirty business.”

“Why did he not tell you from the start?” Dread was settling into Claire’s very bones, as she grasped the magnitude of the situation.

“He didna trust me, I imagine. Upon his discovery, he assumed I was in cahoots with my uncles, bein’ family and all. But I made certain comments to him that probably convinced him I was unaware of their dealings.”

“What did you tell him?”

“At the time, when I started at Leoch, my uncles were pressuring me to date and marry Laoghaire. I told Alex this, and said that it was wrong and I plain didna want to, and if they fired me for it, they could go fuck themselves and I’d work bagging groceries at Tesco before I’d let them bully me like that.” Claire almost smiles at this vehement outburst. “I lost on that account.”

“And Bonnet?”

“He was listed under an assumed name on the documents. That’s why Alex, poor lad, didna think he might be involved either. Bonnet fixed it so Alex’s body was not autopsied, so no one could ken of the gunshot wound that killed him. The McGregors were told there were no real remains, and they had only ashes to mourn. My uncles—”

“Threatened your life if you exposed them and forced you to marry,” Claire finishes for him. “But there is no proof of you doing any wrong!”

Murtagh sighed. “We thought so as weel. But Colum and Dougal’s reach is much longer than ye ken.”

“They had tech experts alter images and deep fake a video that pin Alexander’s death on me,” Jamie says. Claire shakes her head.

“But surely anyone—”

“’Tis my word against theirs. With their endless resources and contacts in law enforcement and the courts, who would believe me?” Jamie’s tone is final and resigned.

Silence weighs heavy in the air; Murtagh collects their empty glasses and sets them on his desk. “I’ve used my position in the force to continue to gather evidence, more papers, whatever I can use to help bring Colum and Dougal MacKenzie to justice, and absolve Jamie from any blame. I’ve involved Chief John Grey from the SCD, Specialist Crime Division, who works with organized crime, and it’s taken us years to be able to discern who to trust and who is in Leoch’s pockets.”

Claire is stunned at this turn of events. She had expected a godfather who at best, might cajole her into believing that Jamie’s marriage was a lie, an economic convenience of sorts, and that had been true after a fashion. But she had not predicted that this was an issue involving crime, illegal activities, and the death of an innocent man. Jamie appears to read her thoughts.

“That is the truth, Sassenach, and I trust ye enough that I ken well ye willna expose the ongoing investigation, or speak to anyone about what happens at Leoch. I’ve endangered yer very life by making ye privy to my story, and for that I am truly sorry.”

“Jamie, I—” Claire’s voice breaks. She casts about for what she wants to say. “Thank you for trusting me. I won’t say anything, not even to Geillis,”—at this she remembers G is still waiting in the lobby— “and… and I want you to understand, we are what we make ourselves, we use what we have, and we decide what we are. You, James Fraser, are an honorable man.”

X-x-X

Jamie remains behind to spend time going over new evidence with Murtagh. Claire assures him Geillis and she will head straight to their flat, and he asks if she would call him tomorrow. He doesn’t want to assume, he doesn’t want to lie anymore; he will give her time to think, to decide if this is something she also wants, if she feels as he does, their short acquaintance be damned. Can Claire risk her heart?

There is an unbearable weight of sorrow pressing upon Claire’s spirit; as she rides the elevator, descending numbers flashing in the display, she racks her brain trying to figure out if there is anything, anything at all she can do to ease his burden.

When she spots Geillis waiting for her, she realizes how lucky she is to have a friend like her—unconditional, constant, a forever kind of friend. G had been there for her in her darkest times, even when…

Suddenly it hits Claire. Without a word, Geillis follows her out into the rainy Glasgow night.

“What’s happened? Are ye convinced? Was he telling the truth?”

“Oh, G. I can’t even tell you. He’s for real, and he’s just been so unlucky in life… I have to help him.”

“What do you mean? Help him how?”

“I’m going to call Frank.”

[clandonnachaidh]

Remember Remember the Fifth of November

“D’ye think she’ll be warm enough?”

I looked down at our daughter and swallowed the urge to comment on the fact that he’d asked that very question at least ten times in almost as many minutes. His strong jaw was clenched in concentration as he wrestled a cosy knit hat onto her head, trying to be as delicate as he could so as to not wake her but having to go to war with her already abundant curls as they fought back against constriction. Brianna was in my favourite place, cocooned in a wrap that held her close to my chest with her head resting heavily on my shoulder as she slept. I even welcomed the drool that would no doubt be spilling from her parted lips as she dreamed.

Amongst all the other blessings that having a child of our own brought to us, the fact that she was such a good sleeper was not one to go unmentioned.

I smiled softly at the sight of my husband, huge and imposing in every way but somehow unbelievably gentle when it came to his daughter. Jamie was looking at her with the sheer adoration that appeared only when he was looking at Brianna.

“She’ll be fine. Besides, it’ll be warm beside the bonfire.”

“Aye but nae too close,” Jamie warned me, pointlessly.

“Don’t worry, lad, I don’t have any inclination to launch our daughter into the flames.”

He quietly muttered ‘dinna even joke’ under his breath as he put an arm around me and pressed a kiss to my temple, showing me that I was forgiven for my attempt at comedy.

Brianna shuffled slightly so I checked that she was comfortable, made sure that her little booties were firmly on her feet and saw that her hands were cradled in tight fists under her chin. Jamie retrieved his favourite Barbour jacket from the wardrobe and slipped into it, pulling his own beanie down around his ears before he caught sight of the three of us in the mirror.

Of course I was biased but the picture reflected in the glass was glorious. We looked like the perfect little family. Jamie towering over his two girls, ever the protector. I hadn’t been aware that I was beaming with pride but when I saw myself, my face was split into an open grin. Our little unit, all bundled up against what would be a cold autumn night, complete with matching wool jumpers that had been a gift to Jamie and myself from Jenny the previous Christmas with the promise of a smaller version being underway for Brianna to receive this year.

We could hear Ian and Murtagh having a loud discussion about where best to stick the Guy even through the thick walls of Lallybroch. With a chuckle, Jamie decided that it was time for him to wade into the discussion lest his godfather and brother-in-law decided to try and drown the other in the basin full of water that had been set up so the children could bob for apples. Just as we made it into the kitchen, Wee Jamie was caught red handed trying to stick a single finger into the treacle that was cooling around the toffee apples that were supposed to have been a surprise for later. A fact that wasn’t lost on my husband.

“Yer ma will tan yer hide and ye ken fine well.” Jamie grabbed his namesake around the waist with his free arm and lifted his giggling nephew out into the cold air, his other arm never dropping from the shield that he had created around Brianna and myself.

Lallybroch had come to be our home. It was beautiful in the spring with the first buds beginning to bloom and the small walk down to the burn was worth it for a dip in the midst of boiling hot summers. Of course, it was picturesque enough to be on a postcard when it was covered in soft, fluffy snow but my favourite had to be autumn. The trees that surrounded the land had all turned, greens deepening until they turned bright orange and red. It hadn’t been too windy so even though the ground was covered in a deep layer of leaves, the huge trees were anything but bare.

“Go and sort them out before I stuff one of them into the Guy’s outfit masel’,” Jenny’s voice came from behind us and Jamie snorted a laugh as he moved towards the two men who were still having words with each other over the correct placement of the effigy that had lovingly been made from potato sacks and straw with a somewhat terrifying hand-drawn face thanks to the efforts of Wee Jamie and his little sister Maggie.

“Mary, Michael and Bride, they’re worse than the weans sometimes,” Jenny sighed heavily, a sentiment I was not going to disagree with. We watched the three men bicker over this and that before finally coming to the conclusion that they would play rock, paper, scissors to determine the outcome of a very simple issue.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” I laughed as Murtagh clipped Ian around the head, clearly not happy with the result. Victorious, Ian pulled the physical representation of Guy Fawkes from the ground and placed him proudly on the bonfire, balancing him right in the middle of a particularly dense patch of branches to serve as a sort of throne.

I hadn’t noticed Jenny had gone until she reappeared with two mugs in her hands, spirals of steam rising and disappearing into the air.

“I slipped something special intae yer hot chocolate, mo phiuthar,” Jenny gave me a wink as she pressed the warm mug into my hand. I inquisitively stuck my nose close to the rim and felt a wry smile creep onto my face as I confirmed my suspicions with a look at my sister-in-law.

“That creme brûlée liqueur I got you?”

She nodded before taking a solid glug from her own cocktail, “The very same.”

From his place at his dad’s side, Wee Jamie bolted towards us and pulled at his mother’s arm, dragging her towards her husband as he begged the two of them for the bonfire to be lit.

With a look down at my own sleeping offspring, I took a sip of my hot chocolate and closed my eyes appreciatively, letting the warmth flow down my throat and into my chest.

“Christ alive, Claire.”

Jamie’s husky voice appeared from behind me and I smirked at him, knowing that only my husband could be one of the only men to see his wife enjoying a hot drink and make it a sexual thing.

“There’s booze in it. Here, try.”

I offered my mug to him but instead he closed the gap between us, careful to cradle Brianna’s head in one of his hands, and kissed the taste from my lips.

“Delicious.”

“Uncle Jamie, hurry! Da’s doin’ it!”

We all convened around the modest structure that had been built from old fence posts, planks from barn doors and old bits of timber from wooden pallets. I spied the leg of a kitchen chair that had met an explosive end the previous Hogmanay after a drunken Jamie and Murtagh had fallen into it during what had started as an eightsome reel and quickly descended into the two men trying to spin each other as hard as possible until they both lost their footing.

As if she knew that it was time for the festivities to start, Brianna started to make the little noises that meant she was beginning to wake.

“Ah, the wee snuffle pig is comin’ around, is she?” Jamie whispered soft words over her as his hands began to untangle his daughter from the folds of the wrap. I giggled at the nickname that he’d given her and stretched the tired muscles of the small of my back now that I didn’t have an extra 10kg of weight hanging off of me. Even though she was only a year old, Brianna was affectionately referred to within the family as ‘the long baby’ due to the Viking genes that had been passed down through her father.

As her sleepy eyes began to blink open, the first thing in her line of sight was her father which produced a rather spectacular smile.

“Daaaaaa,” she groaned with joy.

It was the only thing that she said, not yet having mastered any sort of name for me. She had, however, had given me the gift of a very specific, very shrill screech to know when it was mummy that was looking for. As much as I joked about him pipping me to the post, it was my favourite thing to see Jamie’s utterly radiant smile each and every time she said it.

“Did ye have a nice wee sleep, m’annsachd?” he asked as he kissed her head and then each cheek for good measure.

“Look, darling!” I put on my best excited face and pointed towards the bonfire where Murtagh held a torch and Ian held Maggie on his hip, Wee Jamie at dutifully at his side.

“Remember, remember, the 5th of November! Gunpowder, treason and plot! We see no reason why gunpowder treason should ever be forgot!”

With a round of applause for the two Murray children, Murtagh put the torch to the woodpile.

It went up with a whoosh causing Murtagh to stagger back slightly. He caught himself before subtly giving the finger to Ian who was doubled over laughing.

“Ye’ve got a bit less beard the noo!”

Shaking my head at the childish antics of the two eldest men in the family, I set my sights on the reflection of the flames dancing around in Brianna’s beautiful blue eyes. A lighter higher up, I saw the same vision replicated in the eyes of her father.

“D’ye like it, Bree? Can ye see the manny on the top there?”

“One year old might be a touch young to start explaining about why we burn a man on a bonfire, Fraser,” I said sardonically.

He made a face at me before bringing his mouth down to meet mine, Brianna’s pudgy hand caught somewhere between our bottom lips.

“She’ll be raised on stories of rebels, Sassenach. Guy Fawkes and Robert the Bruce and the like.”

I raised an eyebrow at him, “Any women in that list?”

“Aye, ‘course. Joan of Arc, Sophie Scholl. All the good ones.”

I nodded once with a smile to tell him that I was happy with his additions and we turned back to the bonfire, watching as the effigy burned in front of us. Jamie secured Brianna on his hip, burying his face into the riotous curls that had escaped from her hat and delighting in the resulting giggles. His other arm was wrapped around my side, sheltering me under his arm. Despite the cold, he was warm enough for all three of us.

We watched as the flames licked and crawled over the wood, bursts of air popping as the heat became too much. It was a beautiful clear night, even with the smoke from the bonfire billowing upwards and all at once, a huge explosion of white light lit up the night sky.

Brianna’s face at the sight of her first firework was something I knew that both Jamie and I would cherish forever. Her mouth hung open, eyes glittering with excitement as the colours burst in the sky. White and blue and green and red illuminated the pale skin on her face and it was one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen.

She began to make breathy noises of awe, her little hand gently resting on Jamie’s cheek just to make sure that he was watching it all unfold with her. He quickly snuck a glance at me and smiled knowingly when he saw the tears in my eyes. A laugh snuck out of me, ready to dash my eyes and make a self-deprecating comment about being a silly, emotional mum but Jamie pulled me tighter against him and laid a kiss on the crown of my head.

“I am the luckiest man alive,” he announced. “Happy Bonfire Night, my beautiful lasses.”

[isthisclever]

isthisclever • fanfic masterlist

Links to all my fics on AO3.

Outlander Fanfic

Completed Stories

The Other Side: COMPLETE

With heavy, broken hearts, Jamie and Claire face the stones at Craigh na Dun. But as Jamie guides his wife's hand to the stone that will tear her from him forever, he finds himself pulled into an unfamiliar world.

When he wakes, he's not in 1746 anymore. But where -- when -- are they?

Race to the Stones: COMPLETE

**AU In which Prince Charles never forges Jamie's signature in his support and, therefore, Jamie and Claire are able to avoid the conflict and continue living at Lallybroch as Laird and Lady following the Rising.**

Five years after Claire disappears from 1945, Frank finally discovers a clue as to what truly happened to her. The years without her have eroded his hope and his own sense of self, leaving a desperate man to take a desperate action in the hopes of reuniting with his wife.

In 1749, Jamie and Claire's family is growing...again. Lallybroch and its inhabitants are living in relative peace following Culloden, but that will all come crashing down with the reappearance of a familiar face. And when danger arises, Claire and Jamie must race to thwart their enemies or risk being separated forever.

A Choice Made: COMPLETE

On the morning of the Battle of Culloden, Claire runs to the stones as Jamie fights Redcoat soldiers. Heartbroken, she prepares herself to leave Jamie forever.

But what if she can't?

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

WIPs

Here and Gone: WIP (temporary hiatus)

Twenty years after Culloden -- after sending Claire and their unborn child through the stones -- life for Jamie Fraser is something that happens around him. Now a free man, he survives in the tiny spaces around the pieces of his still-broken heart.

Until he receives news of a mysterious young woman with amber eyes and red curls searching for him in Edinburgh. Hope fills him for the first time in decades.

Little does he know that meeting this woman will change his life once again. For better and for worse.

Power Jam: WIP, Modern AU

Jamie Fraser would rather be anywhere but in a hot, crowded warehouse watching a sport he's never heard of on what's supposed to be his night off. Until he spies a certain Edinburgh player with curly brown hair and golden eyes who captivates him from the first whistle.

He absolutely must meet that skater.

(Also known as: COVID ruined my first playing season of roller derby so I'm living vicariously through my favorite Sassenach and Highlander.)

39 Days: WIP, Modern AU, Survivor crossover (~weekly updates)

Claire Beauchamp would never in a million years have believed she was capable of making it to the island as one of twenty contestants all vying for a million bucks and the title of Sole Survivor. But she did. And she’s here. And, she decides as she eyes up the competition, she’s going to win.

On the other tribe, James Fraser is still reeling. He hadn’t made it through the audition rounds. Not until another player dropped out last minute and he’d received a frantic phone call barely forty hours previous asking if he could book it to Jamaica ASAP. It’s an answered prayer because this prize money is the only thing that would keep his family home from foreclosure.

Neither of them knows that the next 39 days will bring more than either of them could’ve bargained for. And neither of them is ready.

=====================================

ACOTAR Fanfic

Of Lights and Talons: WIP, Timeline reset (~weekly updates)

One minute, Feyre is sitting with her mate and her son in Velaris, sunshine beaming down and the world as close to perfect as she’s ever known it. The next, she’s alone in a freezing wood, weapon in hand.

And human again. Back to the beginning of her own story.

Now, all but powerless and separated from the family she’d fought to protect, Feyre must prove herself to be the Cursebreaker once more if she has any hope of returning home. Even if that means writing a brand new story.

[dopescotlandwarrior]

Sinners & Saints-Chapter Two

                  Special thanks to @statell​ for all your help

Previous chapters on AO3

Chapter Two

Claire emerged from a taxi in a tight black pencil skirt and black high heels as she walked into the upscale restaurant. She knocked on a door with a “espace de rangement” sign on display. The door opened to a nice looking man, impeccably dressed, and she could see her Godfather standing to greet her. He held his arms out for an embrace.

“My darling Bear, it is so good to see you alive and well.” He kissed both of her cheeks and looked her over for bruises. “Quite a scare you gave me yesterday.” He looked into her eyes, “did you arrange for the explosion? The news is reporting natural causes, a gas leak I believe.”

“Certainly not. I wouldn’t put the art at risk like that, besides, I could have done it in my sleep.”

“The news had video of you being rescued, quite terrifying. Do you know the man you were trapped with?”

“Yes, James Fraser. For twenty hours I laid on top of Jamie Fraser and found him to be quite charming and attentive.”

Javier Charvet laughed from his belly and looked at his men enjoying the humor. He pulled a chair out for Claire and sat down next to her. Someone spread a white cloth in front of him while Claire pulled a rolled canvas from her purse. Javier put white gloves on and carefully unrolled the painting where he could examine it under a high powered magnifying glass. He sat up and signaled to his man who left the room, presumably to initiate the transfer of the deed for the Italian property.

“Little Bear, what in God’s name is the Senator doing? I’m talking about his bid for governor announced today.”

“His what?”

Javier looked up with compassionate eyes. “You didn’t know. Has the bastard even called you yet?”

“Yes, yes, I got a call from Mary this morning.”

“And all this time I thought his name was Frank.”

“Mary is his secretary, like his right hand.”

“I know Bear, like I know what grades she got in middle school and that she is a lesbian. I was being sarcastic.”

Javier could see the pain on Claire’s face and backed off. “You must go, I understand. I will have the deed delivered to you in a few hours. Go out through the kitchen, Joseph is waiting to take you back.”

Javier Charvet was a best friend to Claire’s father until the day he died, along with her mother, in a car crash. He tried to get custody of little Claire, but her Uncle Lamb was a blood relative and the courts awarded custody to him. Javier continued to fight for her through the years they were in Egypt and South America, arguing it was no place to raise a young lady. Finally, when Claire was fifteen, the court let her decide where she wanted to live and she chose France with Javier.

Claire did not want to hurt Uncle Lamb, but she was ready to get out of the dirt and sleep in a regular house with indoor plumbing. The warm love and attention she received from Javier was an unexpected bonus and she blossomed under his care. Whenever he saw her, his face would light up and he would call her Claire Bear which was shortened through the years to just Bear. She stayed with Javier through graduate school, leaving for America when she was hired by University of Chicago. That was three years ago.

Claire sat back in the front seat and sighed. She was reeling emotionally after hearing Frank had announced his bid for governor. He never talked to her about it, come to think of it, he never talked about anything. Their relationship felt settled and comfortable from day one, like couples who had spent thirty years together. She couldn’t remember either of them doing anything romantic for the other and suddenly felt like crying her eyes out. What she needed was a day to be selfish and pretend she was someone else who wasn’t saddled with a flatline relationship. She directed Joseph to the retail district and blew him a kiss promising to find a safe way home. She wanted to be free for the next two days and that started with something fun and funky to wear tomorrow.

Javier assigned two of his men to investigate the Senator again. “Find out what projects have his support, who are the major players, who is backing his bid for governor. Find out what master he serves.”

The next day, Claire woke up excited to walk the Louvre. She straightened her hair and added some makeup before jumping into one of her new sundresses. She looked into the full-length mirror and giggled at the strange reflection. The top of the dress was fitted, connecting at the back of her neck leaving her shoulders bare. The skirt had yards of soft fabric that fell just below her knee and a studded belt. The dress was sunshine yellow with silver studs. Nothing could be farther from the tailored suits and conservative colors that filled her closets at home. She smiled and almost skipped out of the hotel to catch a taxi.

Jamie sat at the hotel pool sipping his coffee, and quietly losing his mind. The team spent seven hours yesterday pouring over every art theft attributed to Casper… again, and they had nothing. He took a deep breath and started making phone calls to those he served feeling like he would explode any minute. He had checked the airlines and knew there were no flights to Chicago until tomorrow, so she was still in town most likely. He exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. Fuck it, he thought, let's see if lightning will strike twice. He made his way to the Louvre.

Claire drifted happily through the museum walking close to the Virgin of the Rocks to examine the brush strokes. She jumped when someone spoke to her from behind.

It’s obvious there was a second hand, don’t you agree?”

Claire spun around to see Jamie Fraser smiling at her. There was initial surprise and happy excitement in her face which she covered quickly, turning back to the painting.

“I do not agree. I have always advocated a single hand and it’s the crazy conspiracy theorists who lead people down that road. You should know better than to comment on fine art, Mister Fraser.”

Jamie looked confused by her comment. “I beg to differ madam. I have an art degree after all.”

Claire giggled at the hurt look he concocted, “what kind of degree?”

When she turned back to him and looked up at his face, Jamie nearly forgot to breathe. “Nothing like yours and may I ask how you are allowed to walk the streets of an unsuspecting Paris? How many cars collided watching you walk down the sidewalk, hmmm?”

Claire was laughing at his charm and feeling flattered. “Suppose you do Paris a favor and walk with me?”

Claire looped her arm in his and they walked, admired the paintings, sat and discussed, joked and flirted for hours. Jamie’s knowledge of the masters was surprising and made for stimulating conversation. He had a profound appreciation for the art and artist, much like her own. After four hours they called it a day and went to find a sidewalk cafe for refreshment. Claire watched Jamie look through the three menus at the table and decided to be brave.

“Come on, handsome, this place is too boring.” She spun in the other direction as the wind caught the ample fabric of her skirt and teased it up until she could get a hold of it. They heard a loud crash as a driver struck a parked car and suddenly Jamie’s arm was around her waist pulling her along.

“I rest my case madam. Where is it we are going for more exciting refreshment?”

Claire was laughing at Jamie and feeling bad for the driver, “it’s close and you will love it because they have beer and volleyball outside. It’s quite popular in America.”

Jamie could not get the image of Claire’s legs out of his mind but dedicated himself to being less flirty with her. With a last look at her backside, he let his eyes follow the curves to her feet.

“I can’t believe you can walk the Louvre in heels.”

“I bought flat sandals for today but kept running into walls, so I went back to what I’m used to.”

“Thank God they don’t accentuate your statuesque figure, or perfect posture,” said rolling his eyes, making her laugh again.

She was so easy to talk to, and joke with, Jamie winced remembering her disarming banter in the Louvre that made him a slave to her enjoyment.

“Listen, Sassenach, I am sorry for the flirting, I lost my head with a very pretty girl, who is engaged to be married. I promise to behave like a gentleman while we have a beer and then see you home safely. Right after this…” He pulled her to him and stuck his nose against her neck breathing deeply and releasing her instantly with a happy grin. “You smell like heaven lass.”

Claire was stunned by the cascade of feelings elicited by Jamie’s hug and the feel of his skin against her neck. When he released her she almost fell over, reaching for his arm to steady herself.

“That’s quite alright, it is a lovely scent.”

They entered a dark bar with a rousing crowd who were drinking the afternoon away. The beer was reviving while they talked about their time under the rubble and the mouse that ran up her leg. He asked about her lecture, fascinated by her travels to bring the love of art to the masses. She had been in more countries than he had and entertained him with anecdotes. Sitting in a booth gave her the freedom to look at his face, shoulders, and arms. He was dressed casually in jeans and a polo shirt that did little to hide his massive biceps and chest. She was careful to look discreetly until the second beer arrived which made it harder to pretend.

“Let’s watch the volleyball for a while, Sassenach, then I’ll see you back to your hotel.”

The fresh air helped to clear Claire’s head and she chose a team to root for. The game was fast and fun and she lost herself in the competition, slapping Jamie’s leg at times when her team scored. She didn’t notice how quiet he had become.

True to his word, Jamie was polite and attentive for the rest of their time together. Inside, he went to battle with the part of himself that wanted a girl like Claire and would be ruthless to win her. His decent side won, and he dropped her at her hotel before kissing her forehead and thanking her for a memorable afternoon.

Claire smiled and waved goodbye. Her glass face always gave the observer a look into her true emotion and Jamie saw her confusion and her interest. He needed to get out of Paris, first thing tomorrow. Go home to Scotland and forget about this time with the Sassenach. It felt like he lost a piece of himself today, a piece that remained with her. It made him feel empty inside.

Claire ordered food in her room and sat on the terrace, thinking about Jamie, Paris, and Frank. If he had given her his cell phone number, she would have called him and talked about her crazy feelings and desire for him. He mentioned the name of his hotel several times that afternoon. She tried to resist the seduction that played on a continuous loop in her mind. If only…

Jamie opened his eyes in a dark room when he felt his bed move and was instantly awake. He smelled her perfume and rolled toward the scent as she turned on a light. She was removing her shoes and then her belt and looked like she might join him in bed.

“Your dress lass.”

Claire twisted the button under her hair and pulled the dress over her head letting it drop to the floor. He pulled her to him and kissed her like his life depended on it. The kisses were sweet and long, building the fire she craved. For the next hour, he felt each curve, tasted every part of her, and pushed himself into her wet softness when she begged him to.

Claire walked naked to his room refrigerator where she stashed a bottle of champagne and a bowl of fresh strawberries. She pushed pillows against the headboard so Jamie could sit up and then straddled him, handing him a glass and placing a strawberry in his mouth. The ground rules were unspoken yet they both knew not to ask or comment on what this was. It just was.

“How is it you move through my door, room, and refrigerator without making a sound lass?”

“I’m a cat burglar,” said with honesty

Later Jamie led Claire to his outside patio with the lights of Paris spread far and wide. He danced with her, naked, holding her close, with a promise of more. Claire was very aware she was dancing with the enemy. The man was obsessed with bringing her down and his life was dedicated to that pursuit. None of it was lost on her so she lived each second with him. They made love once more and he gripped her to him as they fell asleep.

Claire looked up at Jamie’s window before getting into her cab. She would not see him again unless she made a mistake and he caught Casper. She wondered if she could walk away from stealing art for a man like Jamie. The answer was moot. It was the only thing that made her feel alive.

Later, Claire walked to the front desk to check out of the hotel. On her way to the exit, she felt someone pull her back and looked into the eyes of Jamie Fraser. He reached into her purse and pulled her phone out, punching in his contact information. He kissed her soundly and stroked her cheek.

“I still owe you a life Sassenach, and as I said, I’ll be the first one there.” He disappeared into the throng of people leaving the resort and Claire dropped into a couch to slow her racing heart.

Landing at O’Hare airport did wonders for popping the pink balloon Claire was in. She looked out at the familiar sights of home and Jamie Fraser was reassigned to the distant memory file in her mind. Like so many Sorority nights in her past. She felt strong and ready to tackle the remainder of the semester. When she saw Geillis she quickened her step and hugged her friend like her favorite puppy. The two women chatted while waiting for luggage and then heading home. When Claire walked into her townhouse Paris no longer existed. She was back.

Jamie had to get out of Paris before he lost his mind. Another failed attempt to catch Casper and a stunning girl left her mark on him and then disappeared. He made haste getting back to his farm in Scotland where the demands of the land would pull him back to normal. He assigned his top man to wrap up the investigation at Sotheby’s auction house and the report was waiting in is outlook when he got to Scotland.

The explosion was caused by a gas leak, the vault video was disabled by some sort of bright light beam, there were no fingerprints unaccounted for, and the handlers were questioned but added no clues. One female handler said she left the vault for a couple of minutes with Professor Beauchamp to find the audio technician and heard the auto-locking door to the vault slam behind her. As usual, Casper left no leads to follow and disappeared with a Rembrandt worth thirty million dollars. He had nothing.

Claire and Geillis wrapped up the semester in the final month. There were graduate dissertations to evaluate, term papers to read, and final exams to grade. It was a busy month and both looked forward to a summer off. Geillis would spend two months in her pool by day and the clubs by night. Claire would be away most of that time, lecturing, appraising, promoting her book, and stealing art.

She knew she had been in the game too long. Statistically, she was on borrowed time as a thief and when she was caught, she would lose her freedom for the next twenty years. Aside from quitting, she took every precaution including secure communication, the best VPN, encryption security, and a code translator that was owned by Javier because he commissioned the program. There were no back doors installed in the programming, verified by the best security experts in France. He named the program Tom, and no one knew why. Tom was installed on Claire’s home computer and on Javier’s, no one else would use it, see it in action, or ask questions about it. Claire’s heart jumped when she saw the message and she sent it to Tom. Thirty-six seconds later she read the message from Javier and smiled.

“Easy Peezy,” she said out loud as she sent a coded RSVP and agreed to the terms, one point five million in gold. The compensation received for her service had been routed to several off-shore accounts in the beginning and her wealth grew at a staggering rate. Cash felt like an anchor that would sink her in an investigation so she switched to valued properties that would be harder to discover. The gold would be kept in a bank vault locally and used for catastrophic expenses in the future, like hiring a team of defense lawyers. It would cost her two or three hundred thousand just to get it to Chicago, but she would pay it.

Her cell phone played Frank’s ringtone and she felt a boulder in her stomach.

“Hello darling, just touching base about this weekend. Do you have plans for us yet?”

“No Frank, you have not been home since the break started so I will consider you still gone until I actually see you.”

“Alright, fair enough. I have been invited to a private island, owned by a billionaire. The people that are funding my campaign have asked me to go. It almost sounds like a rite of passage kind of thing.”

“Well, best of luck with the upcoming test of manhood, or whatever it is.”

Claire trapped her lip between her teeth and was grinding on it as Frank talked. She was so mad at him and hurt by his estrangement. This was the time of year he spent in Chicago but he was still in Washington with his high-powered new friends that filled his calendar with things to do and people to meet. She tasted blood in her mouth and went back to her packing. Her flight to Germany left in twelve hours and it would be a tense few days once she got there.

Claire paid the admission to the Johannisburg Castle, host to the Treasures of the Golden Pharaoh exhibit. She played with the micro camera hidden in a broach and pinned to her sweater, the remote was deep in a pocket of her trousers. With luck, she would have clear pictures of the employee badges, the security cameras, and the exhibit hall by dinner. Tonight she would finish her fake statue of King Amenhotep III, Tutankhamun’s grandfather who guarded his tomb for millennia before it was discovered and plundered by archaeologists in 1922. The statue would not stand up to scrutiny, but she just needed a few minutes to get out of the building.

Claire plugged a USB into the back of the pendant and downloaded the pictures onto her laptop while the last coat of gold paint was drying on the little statue. She launched her graphics program and got to work, creating an employee badge that would pass at a glance.

Claire noticed the incoming handlers would have their badges scanned before coming into the castle. When leaving for the day, they were scanned to ensure none of the treasures were going home with them. Each piece in the collection was tagged with a liquid that emitted a dose of radiation high enough to be outside the normal range but low enough to be safe. She would skip the scanner and leave through the ceiling, like she came. By midnight, everything was ready, by tomorrow night at this time she would be one and a half million dollars richer.

Claire laid in bed, but sleep would not come. She reached for her phone, launching her contacts. For the hundredth time since leaving Paris, she looked at Jamie’s name and brought the whole evening back to her mind. It was such a sweet sadness that filled her, and each time she did this Frank became less and less important. In her dreams, she slept in Jamie’s embrace all night.

[sablelab]

Covert Operations - Chapter 123

SYNOPSIS: Claire wonders if Jamie’s visit really happened last night or if she was dreaming. Going stir crazy in Med Lab she asks Dr Foster when she may be discharged and is surprised when Jamie visits her again.  He discusses her condition with the Doctor and they both keep up the facade they discussed the night before.  As expected and true to form Madeline and Operations do arrive in Med Lab with their decision about Jamie and Claire’s rehabilitation.

Chapter 122 and all other chapters can be found at … https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations

THANK YOU all for your support of my writing of this story.  I love reading your impressions of what I have written and I appreciate you taking the time to do so. I hope that over the next few weeks or months as I plan out the last scenario that you will continue to enjoy Covert Operations especially over this extra-long Droughtlander.

  CHAPTER 123 Laying in her hospital bed Claire’s mind started to play tricks on her. She started having self-doubts about last night wondering if Jamie’s visit was just a dream. She pinched herself hoping that she would find that it wasn’t a dream but that it had really happened. Jamie had been here … she’d seen him with her two eyes, touched him, kissed him, talked to him all under Section’s nose without discovery. These fanciful thoughts were superfluous for the reality was that her love had indeed been in her room. The fact that Jamie had been able to do so, made her realise to what lengths he would go to achieve his mindset. She marvelled at his tenacity in being able to pull off his late-night sojourn with Fergus’ help without being found out. But knowing Jamie, she was not surprised that he was able to do what he did. Her only worry was that there could be a glitch and they would be found out. No doubt she would find out soon enough when Madeline and Operations finally came to see them.

Suddenly the voice of her doctor roused her from her reflections.  “Good morning Claire. How are you feeling today?” he asked in his usual upbeat way. Opening her eyes, she sat up in bed with a bored expression on her face. Dr Jeremy Foster had just started his rounds and had surprised her with his greeting. Claire looked at him and saw a slight smile on his face as he expressed his amusement at his patient’s behaviour. “Ah, I see that you are better judging by that scowl,” he replied ignoring her facial reactions while reading her paperwork for the day. Claire folded her arms across her chest. “When do you think I’ll be able to leave Med Lab? I’m going stir crazy in here.” Things were certainly getting better then. This morning he’d come across a grumpy looking woman who although battle scared was biting at the bit to leave. A muffled chuckle was her answer.

“Oh my, Claire … and here I thought you were enjoying seeing my smiling face each day.” “I do but …” “But you want out of here. Yes?”  “Yes.” “Well … it could be soon but don’t get your hopes up. It all depends on Operations and Madeline.” Claire bit her bottom lip steeling her inner thoughts about Section’s leaders and trying to be positive by remembering Jamie’s parting words.  Be patient … It will happen Claire … We will be together. 

Holding her arm out so that her blood pressure could be taken, she tilted her head back to stare up at the ceiling as Dr Foster continued to take her obs. Her mind was reeling with a combination of happy and cautious thoughts. Her impatience at not knowing when she and Jamie would be discharged was starting to get to her. Suddenly the pain from her wounds was telling … but it wasn’t the physical wounds that manifested themselves it was the hidden ones that she’d buried deep within her psyche. She grimaced but held back the moan that threatened to escape, instead repeating over and over again in her head, “We will be together. We will be together.” Claire knew that she needed Jamie’s touch, his love and support to erase all of her demons. Dr Foster watched the emotions that crossed his patient’s face.  He could see that she was struggling with her situation at the moment.  In fact, he was a little worried that if Section’s leaders failed to implement his recommendations that his patient might very well take much longer to recover.  Not only that, but Claire may even be taken off the continuation of the mission if her mental wellbeing didn’t improve.

Clearly, she still bore mental scars of her incarceration. Having been subjected to prolonged torture Claire was still emotionally drained although physically she was doing fine. However, there was obviously something that was causing her pain. It only reiterated in his mind that she needed to be in an environment that was conducive to a complete physical and mental recovery and the sooner the better. Section One’s leaders needed to come to the same conclusion as well. Madeline and Operations had been sitting on their hands for far too long. If they didn’t release both her and Jamie soon, he would have to speak with them again and plead their case despite the consequences should they disagree.  “Well everything is looking good Claire. I’m optimistic that you’ll be out of here before the end of the week.” “Whoopee.” Jeremy Foster gave her a reassuring grin and replied tongue in cheek. “You’re such a model patient … I’ll be sorry to see the back of you.” Claire was about to answer but they both looked up when they heard the sound of the automatic doors woosh open. She suddenly felt her body go into overdrive at the sight of the visitor walking through the glass-panelled doors. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Seeing who the person was, Dr Foster turned towards James Fraser as he made his way into the room. His eyes widened a little when he’d appeared but he was not at all surprised to see Jamie there. Both of his patients had indeed made excellent progress despite their horrific injuries and it was testament to their training and conditioning that had held them in good stead. The two operatives looked as though they were physically recovering quickly. Jeremy Foster was amazed at how well Jamie’s prognosis had gone. The man was a machine and despite the uncertainty a few days ago, it certainly was remarkable how he was healing.  Turning to look at Claire he stated the obvious. “I see you have a new visitor.” He then walked over to where Jamie was standing and spoke to his other patient. “It’s good to see you up and about Jamie. How are you feeling?” “I’m fine,” was his patent James Fraser answer. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

However, Claire wasn’t fine. She took some deep calming breaths as she stared down at her hands. They were trembling. Her heart was thumping riotously within her chest as she tried to retain her composure, but it was difficult when she was having heart palpations knowing that he was here again. She cast a glance at Jamie when Dr Foster’s back was turned. Her mouth was suddenly dry and she tried to moisten her lips with the tip of her tongue. Her skin felt clammy to the touch, then it felt the opposite, as she stared at the man she loved as he spoke with Jeremy Foster. Memories of last night were as vivid now as could be. She also felt a little bit nervous but at the same time overwhelmed to see him back again so soon. 

Whatever would she say to him? How could she stop herself from revealing her emotions when her heart was doing flip flops in her chest?  How could she keep her feelings from showing?  Jamie had said people would see it in their eyes. She needed to be cool, calm and collected in front of Dr Foster but more so in front of Operations and Madeline should they turn up today. 

Taking a deep breath to compose herself, she glanced up into the eye of the surveillance camera. Knowing that the video surveillance would be monitoring their every word and actions, she needed to have self-control. Lowering her eyes in an effort to draw some air back into her lungs, she hoped that she could do this and more.  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“That’s good, but I’m afraid the patient is not in the best frame of mind today. Perhaps your visit will change her disposition.”  Jamie felt a faint smile tug at the corner of his mouth at Dr Foster’s remark about his Sassenach. He knew exactly how she was feeling. He couldn’t wait to get out of here either. However, knowing that this was supposed to be their first visit he asked, “How are her injuries doctor?”  “As you know, they were extensive and it was lucky that you got back to Section when you did … for both of you. Fortunately, Claire’s wounds will heal and fade with time with no apparent scaring. With rest and rehabilitation, she should be back to full health in no time.”  “I see.” Lowering his voice a little so that Claire couldn’t hear Dr Foster continued. “Her physical injuries are healing quite well Jamie. It's the hidden ones that are a worry.”  The insinuation belying his words struck a chord with Jamie. He was well aware of Claire’s state of mind and he intended to do something to fix that. “I understand.”  Jeremy Foster passed a quick intense glance at James Fraser knowing that as her trainer, mentor and partner he would know exactly what he was alluding to. He then raised his voice once more.

“Good. I'll be back in a short while. I’ll let you two have some time alone to catch up.” His parting words however, were a caution that they were not totally alone. “Should you need anything while I’m gone Patrick will help you.”  Jamie cast a look to where Patrick Mullins, the Med Lab tech was on duty working quietly in the far corner of the room.

“Thank ye.”  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ When Jamie had entered Claire’s room, he’d seen Dr Foster hovering at her bedside on his morning rounds. He had hoped that the doctor would be there so that he could ask about Claire and how she was faring. Jeremy Foster had only reconfirmed what he’d already deduced himself … all that was needed was for Operations and Madeline to give them the green light for some recovery time. His eyes were drawn to his Sassenach and he began to walk over slowly towards her bed.  He leisurely trailed his hand along the starched white sheet just as he’d done last night when he’d approached as she slept. Jamie could see that she was nervous at his appearance but having discussed a strategy to deal with her feelings in the wee hours before dawn he knew that she would follow his lead should Madeline and Operations visit this morning too. He came closer until he stood by her bed. They looked at each other for a moment in silence but Jamie could see that his Claire’s face was riddled with thoughts of trepidation for what the day may hold.  His eyes widened slightly before he turned to speak to Patrick Mullins, the Med Lab technician, working inconspicuously in the room. Jamie decided that he would prefer some modicum of privacy to speak with Claire.

“Will ye excuse us, please?”  Taking in the situation the technician looked at the Level 5 operative. He was not at all surprised by this request. Nodding in compliance Patrick carefully put away the vials he had been handling, and quickly left the room leaving Jamie and Claire alone except for the surveillance cameras’ impersonal stare.  Waiting until the orderly had closed the door behind him, Jamie made sure to keep his back to the video surveillance cameras before he spoke to Claire. Although they would catch their every word, he could prevent them seeing his facial expressions. Jamie’s voice was impersonal, but his eyes conveyed for a split second that he wanted to pull her to him and hug her tightly.

“How are ye feeling?” To both of their ears he showed enough concern for her welfare but with a tone that could not be misinterpreted by anyone watching for anything more than that. Jamie had no doubt that this first visit would have been anticipated and that they were being monitored very closely to gauge appropriate or inappropriate behaviour between the two of them by Section’s leaders. He was confident that they would have a visit from Madeline and Operations shortly knowing that he was here visiting Claire.  She could feel Jamie’s gaze roaming over her face and reciprocated with a wry smile, “Oh, I’m fine, just a little swollen and … bored.”  “So, Dr Foster said.” Folding her arms defensively across her chest, Claire’s eyes studied Jamie with just enough concern for his situation. He still looked magnificent this morning like he did last night. In her mind’s eye she caressed his frame once more before resting them on his bandages. He too was dressed in his standard white undershirt for Med Lab and to her eyes, he looked magnificent and oh, so sexy. “How's your wound?” “It's all right.”  “You look good for someone who has gone through a major operation.” “I’ve been better … but I’m fine.” “That’s good.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ However, before they could continue any more banal conversation, Jamie happened to glance towards the room’s glass door. His sudden distraction caused Claire to glance that way as well to see what had captured his curiosity. Section One’s leaders, Madeline and Operations, were in the corridor speaking to Jeremy Foster.  The two operatives passed a quick look between each other. Finally, they would know their fate. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ The sound of the Med Lab doors opening once more captured Jamie and Claire’s attention as Madeline, Operations and Dr Foster all entered the room. With an effort Jamie pulled his gaze away from Claire knowing that their time would eventually come, but for now he was the perfect cold operative. He turned towards Section’s leaders as they came closer to her bed and watched as Madeline’s cool gaze took in his bearing before resting them on the patient.  Casting her astute eye over him standing at Claire’s side, Madeline folded her arms across her chest before meeting his eyes again. "Ah, Jamie … I see you are up and about.”  She took in his bandaged chest wound, white scrub-type pants and white tank top. Madeline noticed his pale face, deep under the eye circles, but it was Jamie’s demeanour that caught her attention the most. She knew that determined posture. Section’s cold operative was standing in front of them giving them little to go on. His eyes were guarded; his stance was that of a mentor’s aloof concern for his material's wellbeing and nothing more. Not only that but it seemed that James Fraser had turned the corner and that his recovery was imminent. Madeline cast an enigmatic glance towards Operations.  “You must be feeling better,” he added. Acknowledging their presence Jamie nodded in his succinct way being careful to sound reserved in his reply. “Aye … I am.” He watched Operations’ face at his response, then moved away from Claire’s bed to stand at the back of the room. “Good.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ The two leaders then turned their attention towards Claire observing her as she sat up in bed. Without turning to Dr Foster who was standing behind them Madeline asked, “How is she doing?"  Claire felt on edge at the look her superior gave her. Despite Madeline’s apparent detached interest, it was as if she was sizing her up while her nervous anticipation had everything to do with what Section’s leaders would decide. Claire smoothed the sheet across her body and surreptitiously glanced at those around her bed. She knew that whatever Dr Foster had to say about her condition may affect any decision that Madeline and Operations might make about her recuperation away from Med Lab.  “Claire’s much better.” Operations cleared his throat and spoke to Dr Foster. "What do you think? Is she able to be discharged?” Both Jamie and Claire pricked up their ears at what the doctor might say.  The physician considered his question for a moment then turned towards the two leaders. “My professional opinion is yes. I think that Claire is ready to leave Med Lab. I can do no more for her medically. Recuperation is what she and Jamie both need now.”  Jeremy Foster saw the two leaders exchange a surprised yet compliant look at his opinion as if they too had already come to the same conclusion.  “So, what you’re saying is that both Jamie and Claire should be discharged.” “Yes. I see no reason to keep them here under observation any/ much longer. Both operatives have continued to improve much faster than anticipated and could be released as early as/ the end of the week tomorrow morning. They certainly would benefit from time away from this environment to enhance their healing.” Operations seemed to have been put on the spot by the doctor’s candid reply. He cast a look Jamie’s way, then shot Madeline another frosty glance as if to say he’d been checkmated and didn’t like it, before turning to address Dr Foster once more. “And how much time would be needed for their recovery?”  The doctor was taken aback by Operations’ question. He was sure that Section’s leaders would have already discussed this before coming to Med Lab. He was at a loss how to proceed in case he said something he shouldn’t.

“Excuse my impertinence sir, but Madeline and I have discussed this at length.” And so too had Section One’s leaders. Madeline noticed that Operations’ manner was noticeably restrained even though he was well versed in her reasons for granting Jamie and Claire downtime and had agreed that it was the way to go. However, despite the pros and cons of her arguments, he was obviously still not 100% in favour of the proposal. She cast Dougal a reserved glance.

He ignored her look. It gnawed at him that Madeline knew him so well. It was as if she could read his mind and knew his thought patterns before he did so himself.  Glaring at Dr Foster with obvious irritation he was resigned to the fact that the doctor’s answer would be the same as what Madeline had suggested. Nevertheless, he was hoping that he would say a couple of days. “Just answer the question.”  “A couple of weeks should be sufficient sir.” “I see.” To appease Dougal’s reservations and concerns about the Rising Dragons’ mission Madeline asked, “Will they have recuperated enough by then to return to the mission?” “I see no reason why not.” Satisfied that the assignment would not be prolonged or compromised any further Operations replied succinctly, “Two weeks and not a day more.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ James Fraser stood like a sentinel overseeing the current proceedings, reserved in his manner but vigilant in his deportment. Both he and Claire took in the conversation that had occurred between Dr Foster, Operations and Madeline, knowing that a decision for them was imminent. He waited for the green light from Section’s leaders but it was still not a fait-accompli that they would be given downtime for recuperation. However, it was obvious by Operations’ reaction, that no matter how reluctant he was about granting them time, his sole focus was on the Rising Dragons’ mission and how their absence would affect the end game that he so wanted.  He also observed Claire.  Her shoulders became tense as though she was bracing herself for whatever Section’s head strategist would say. Normally when operatives had been in Med Lab, like she had, they were transferred to Level 3 for reprogramming under a new instructor especially when an operative had been out for some time. However, Jamie doubted that they would do this in their case, because both he and Claire were vital to the success of the Rising Dragons’ mission. Madeline also liked to conduct a psyche analysis on any operative who had been incarcerated and tortured to test their suitability for reinstatement to an important mission to see if they could still meet Section's standards. Jamie knew they both would be subjected to some form of psyche analysis at some time. No doubt Madeline had planned for such a situation but the question was … when would she conduct it … before or after downtime?  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Turning to address James Fraser and then Claire, Madeline stated succinctly, “You'll both stay in Observation for the rest of the day as Dr Foster has outlined.”  Jamie nodded in approval as he walked towards his superiors. “Then you'll be discharged in the morning.” Jamie’s face was blank and Claire’s eyes were wary of Madeline’s next statement, as if anticipating the worse. Although a wry smile bowed her mouth it failed to reach her eyes. “Operations and I have also decided to grant the two of you some downtime away from Section One for recuperation.”  To Jamie and Claire’s ears her words lacked sincerity but it was nothing more or less than what they expected from Section’s head strategist. Madeline always played her cards close to her chest. Not only that, but ulterior motives were always laced with any favour granted. There would be payback for the two of them. Madeline scrutinized the both of them to gauge their reaction to what she’d told them. None was forthcoming except a concise “Thank you” from Jamie.  Operations stared intently at his best cold operative for a few seconds. His facial features registered his inner thoughts about this whole process, they tightened, his eyes were intense and his words were terse and concise. “We have also deferred your debrief of the mission until you have returned from your downtime.” His superior gave Jamie another telling look. “However, I will expect a comprehensive and thorough report from you on my desk when you return to Section.” Their eyes locked briefly in a taciturn exchange before Jamie tilted his head in compliance. “I understand.” Diffusing the impasse situation between the two men, Madeline brought matters to a close. “Enjoy your downtime. Use it wisely to rest and recover for once you return to Section One we expect the both of you to immerse yourselves in the Rising Dragons’ mission without reservation.” “Of course,” Jamie replied in his monotone manner refusing to give Madeline the satisfaction of seeing that her words had not been lost in translation when reading between the lines.  Operations and Madeline didn’t respond further, but they looked at Claire once more, before exiting Medical, leaving Jamie alone with her again. They heard Dr Foster address them as he walked them out of Med Lab. “I’ll arrange for their discharge first thing in the morning then?” “Yes … see to it.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Two weeks. Remembering where she was Claire looked around the room cautiously as she sat in her bed. Her eyes lowered as she contemplated what had just happened. A gamut of emotions was rioting through her system as it finally dawned on her that both she and Jamie had indeed been given downtime. As hard as she tried not to smile, she couldn’t and a broad beam of happiness crossed her face. She dared to glance up at Jamie who had once again placed himself in a position that hid the surveillance cameras from capturing her mood. They looked at each other for a moment in silence their eyes locking together. Jamie saw the emotions cross her face and his eyes widened slightly in understanding. “Are we really going to be able to have downtime together on the outside?”  Jamie said nothing but his eyes gave her the answer she wanted to hear. Claire sighed in contentment, biting her lip in an achingly familiar way. Her blue eyes suddenly beamed with such emotion that the breath caught in his throat. Anticipation, longing, desire and happiness were all gleaming on her features and to Claire’s bewilderment were reciprocated in Jamie’s intense gaze. Two weeks. It was a lifetime to them. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~to be continued TUESDAY 26th May

[scapegrace74-blog]

Saorsa, Chapter 20

A/N  Here is the next installment of Saorsa.  It’s Hogmanay!  Time for everybody to get dressed up and make life-altering decisions!  Also, this chapter contains my very favourite re-purposing of a line from the original series.  Guess which one?

Rather than link to all previously posted chapters, I’ll just direct those of you wanting to catch up on your Saorsa-reading to my AO3 page, where the fic is posted in its entirety.

Thank you to each of you liking and reblogging!  It does my little fanfic writer’s heart good.

It was strangely intimate, sharing Lallybroch with Claire over the holidays when most everyone else was away.   He found himself deviating between an easy casualness that reminded him of his parents, and a stiff formality that reminded him of his place as a guest in the house of a widowed Englishwoman.

The modern wonder that was the icebox meant that Cook did not have to prepare food for them each day.  Mrs. Fitz was visiting her niece in Elgin, leaving only Murtagh to frown at him as he mucked the stalls and shouldered bales of hay down from the grange like a stable boy, and then washed up and sat down to supper as though he was laird of the manor.

He was profoundly confused.

All his short life he’d never hesitated, never faltered.  If there was a decision to be made, he made it, and lived with the consequences.  If there was a step to be taken, he forged ahead, eyes wide open.

Now he wavered, uncertain, two equally obscured paths laying before him.

He sensed Claire observing him as they ate leftover turkey with chestnut stuffing, warmed up in the huge AGA cooker that dominated the kitchen.  It reminded him of Mrs. Crook’s cooking from when he was a boy.

“What was Christma…, sorry, Yuletide, like when you were young?”  He squinted at her, wondering if she knew some sorcery that allowed her to see directly into his thoughts.   He dearly hoped not.

“Nae sae verra different, really.  We ne’er exchanged gifts – that was for Hogmanay – but Jenny an’ I loved tae stay up late, go tae mass and light our nativity candles.  There’d be some huge beast roasting on a spit fer days, an’ the whole house fair reeked of it, sae ye were always hungry.  E’ry day, some new guest or family would arrive, ‘til on the eve of Hogmanay the castle was burstin’ with folk, all talkin’ an’ drinkin’ an’ laughin’.”

“That sounds wonderful.  I hope Lallybroch can be like that again, someday,” she said wistfully.

“It will be, Sassenach.  I ken it.”

**

Murtagh had loaned him a necktie, and it was slowly choking him.  There was a light knock on his bedchamber door, and he yanked miserably at the stiff collar as he went to answer it.   Claire stood on the other side, looking positively radiant in her burgundy dress.  He felt his cheeks flushing and hoped he could blame the cravat.

“Oh no,” she giggled as she took in his costume.  “That simply will not do.”

He considered feigning insult, but her voice was too musical, her eyes too merry as she laughed at his outfit.

“Twas your idea tae dress up fer Hogmanay!  An’ now ye’re laughing at me, lass?”

She merely smiled more broadly, and held out a bulky, paper-wrapped package that he’d somehow missed in his earlier perusal of her pretty frock and berry-ripe lips.

“Your Hogmanay gift, Mister Fraser,” she pronounced cheekily, and he wondered if she’d already sampled the rum punch Cook had laid out on the table downstairs.

“Sassenach, I…”

“Don’t.  Please.  This is yours.  If you won’t accept it as a gift, consider it reparation for a past mistake.”

And with that she turned and left his doorway.  He set the package, which was surprising light considering its size, on his bed and proceeded to open it, hands shaking slightly.  

Inside he found a Fraser plaid.

Dashing the onrush of moisture from his eyes, he quickly shed his borrowed suit and wrapped the plaid with practiced ease around his hips and over his shoulder, securing it with his belt and sporran.

He was about to rush down the stairs to thank Claire when he realized he had nothing to give her in return.   His eyes cast about his room, but everything there already belonged to her.  He had no money, and it was too late to buy a gift in any event.   He hooked his thumbs beneath his belt, a grimace of concentration on his face.  Then he smiled and walked towards the door.

**

The great hall was filled with chatter and music, merriment and cheer.   Claire had invited anyone even remotely associated with Lallybroch to celebrate Hogmanay, and they all seemed to have accepted.

The lady of the estate walked about the room, chatting easily with her guests, offering more refreshments, and generally playing the cordial hostess.  He stood near a stone pillar watching her, scowling as a drunken shopkeeper grabbed her by the waist and spun her for a reel across the gleaming flagstones.  Jamie took a step into the room when she lay a hand across her still-flat belly, ready to intervene, but she was merely catching her breath.

Flushed and thirsty, she took refuge in his quiet corner.

“Don’t you like dancing, Jamie?” she asked as she sipped her punch.

“Aye, but as an onlooker.  Wi’ these feet, t’would be a cruelty tae step on y’…, um, a lass.”

“Pity, since you’re dressed the part.”

“Sassenach, thank ye.  Truly.  I ne’er meant for ye to feel responsible fer burning my plaid, ye ken?  Twas just the last in a series of blows.”

“Think nothing of it.  I’m just happy it got here in time.  When it hadn’t arrived by Christmas, I was panicked.”

“Where’er did ye find it?”

“Oh, just a little shop in Inverness that Murtagh knows.  I rang them on the telephone back in November.”

Jamie shook his head in wonder.   She’d bought this plaid to replace the one he’d ruined coming through the stones, even before he’d told her his strange tale.  Before they exchanged family histories and truly gotten to know one another.  Before she started to look at him the way she was looking just now.

“I have something for ye as weel, Sassenach,” he said, taking a fortifying gulp of whisky and then placing the glass on a nearby ledge.  He opened his sporran and withdrew the object he knew Claire should have, just as the plaid he wore belonged to him.

“Jamie, I… that’s… I mean… what is it?” she stuttered, her usual eloquence failing her in the sudden heat of his gaze.

“Tis my key.  To Lallybroch.  It belongs to ye, Claire.”

She held the heavy iron balanced across both palms as though accepting a sacred relic.   When it became apparent she would not be speaking, he added, “Yer the rightful Lady of Lallybroch, Sassenach.  Ye’ll do right by its people.  Teach the bairn tae do the same.”

Her face turned pale, her taffy eyes huge.  She grabbed for his hand, the key fumbling between them.

“I can’t.  Jamie, I can’t.  I can’t accept this.  Lallybroch is as much yours as mine.”  Then, so quiet he had to lean down to hear her over the music, “Please, don’t make me do this alone.”

His heart was riven in two inside his chest, a tearing sensation that felt like birth and death combined.  How could he deny what he’d already promised her?  A clear path forward emerged from the fog, and he took his first, fateful step.

“There is a way, Sassenach…”

[classic-laugjhing-hollywood]

Harold Clayton Lloyd Sr. (April 20, 1893 – March 8, 1971) was an American actor, comedian, and stunt performer who appeared in many silent comedy films.

Lloyd is considered alongside Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton as one of the most influential film comedians of the silent film era. Lloyd made nearly 200 comedy films, both silent and "talkies", between 1914 and 1947. His bespectacled "Glasses" character[2][3] was a resourceful, success-seeking go-getter who matched the zeitgeist of the 1920s-era United States.

His films frequently contained "thrill sequences" of extended chase scenes and daredevil physical feats. Lloyd hanging from the hands of a clock high above the street (in reality a trick shot) in Safety Last! (1923) is considered one of the most enduring images in all of cinema. Lloyd performed the lesser stunts himself, despite having injured himself in August 1919 while doing publicity pictures for the Roach studio. An accident with a bomb mistaken as a prop resulted in the loss of the thumb and index finger of his right hand (the injury was disguised on future films with the use of a special prosthetic glove, and was almost undetectable on the screen).

He was far more prolific than Chaplin (releasing 12 feature films in the 1920s while Chaplin released just four), and made more money overall ($15.7 million to Chaplin's $10.5 million).

Lloyd was born on April 20, 1893 in Burchard, Nebraska, the son of James Darsie Lloyd and Sarah Elisabeth Fraser. His paternal great-grandparents were Welsh.[6] In 1910, after his father had several business venture failures, Lloyd's parents divorced and his father moved with his son to San Diego, California. Lloyd had acted in theater since a child, but in California he began acting in one-reel film comedies around 1912.

Lloyd worked with Thomas Edison's motion picture company, and his first role was a small part as a Yaqui Indian in the production of The Old Monk's Tale. At the age of 20, Lloyd moved to Los Angeles, and took up roles in several Keystone Film Company comedies. He was also hired by Universal Studios as an extra and soon became friends with aspiring filmmaker Hal Roach. Lloyd began collaborating with Roach who had formed his own studio in 1913. Roach and Lloyd created "Lonesome Luke", similar to and playing off the success of Charlie Chaplin films.

Lloyd hired Bebe Daniels as a supporting actress in 1914; the two of them were involved romantically and were known as "The Boy" and "The Girl". In 1919, she left Lloyd to pursue her dramatic aspirations. Later that year, Lloyd replaced Daniels with Mildred Davis, whom he would later marry. Lloyd was tipped off by Hal Roach to watch Davis in a movie. Reportedly, the more Lloyd watched Davis the more he liked her. Lloyd's first reaction in seeing her was that "she looked like a big French doll".

By 1918, Lloyd and Roach had begun to develop his character beyond an imitation of his contemporaries. Harold Lloyd would move away from tragicomic personas, and portray an everyman with unwavering confidence and optimism. The persona Lloyd referred to as his "Glass" character (often named "Harold" in the silent films) was a much more mature comedy character with greater potential for sympathy and emotional depth, and was easy for audiences of the time to identify with. The "Glass" character is said to have been created after Roach suggested that Harold was too handsome to do comedy without some sort of disguise. To create his new character Lloyd donned a pair of lensless horn-rimmed glasses but wore normal clothing; previously, he had worn a fake mustache and ill-fitting clothes as the Chaplinesque "Lonesome Luke". "When I adopted the glasses," he recalled in a 1962 interview with Harry Reasoner, "it more or less put me in a different category because I became a human being. He was a kid that you would meet next door, across the street, but at the same time I could still do all the crazy things that we did before, but you believed them. They were natural and the romance could be believable." Unlike most silent comedy personae, "Harold" was never typecast to a social class, but he was always striving for success and recognition. Within the first few years of the character's debut, he had portrayed social ranks ranging from a starving vagrant in From Hand to Mouth to a wealthy socialite in Captain Kidd's Kids.

On Sunday, August 24, 1919, while posing for some promotional still photographs in the Los Angeles Witzel Photography Studio, he picked up what he thought was a prop bomb and lit it with a cigarette. It exploded and mangled his right hand, causing him to lose a thumb and forefinger. The blast was severe enough that the cameraman and prop director nearby were also seriously injured. Lloyd was in the act of lighting a cigarette from the fuse of the bomb when it exploded, also badly burning his face and chest and injuring his eye. Despite the proximity of the blast to his face, he retained his sight. As he recalled in 1930, "I thought I would surely be so disabled that I would never be able to work again. I didn't suppose that I would have one five-hundredth of what I have now. Still I thought, 'Life is worth while. Just to be alive.' I still think so."

Beginning in 1921, Roach and Lloyd moved from shorts to feature-length comedies. These included the acclaimed Grandma's Boy, which (along with Chaplin's The Kid) pioneered the combination of complex character development and film comedy, the highly popular Safety Last! (1923), which cemented Lloyd's stardom (and is the oldest film on the American Film Institute's List of 100 Most Thrilling Movies), and Why Worry? (1923). Although Lloyd performed many athletic stunts in his films, Harvey Parry was his stunt double for the more dangerous sequences.

Lloyd and Roach parted ways in 1924, and Lloyd became the independent producer of his own films. These included his most accomplished mature features Girl Shy, The Freshman (his highest-grossing silent feature), The Kid Brother, and Speedy, his final silent film. Welcome Danger (1929) was originally a silent film but Lloyd decided late in the production to remake it with dialogue. All of these films were enormously successful and profitable, and Lloyd would eventually become the highest paid film performer of the 1920s. They were also highly influential and still find many fans among modern audiences, a testament to the originality and film-making skill of Lloyd and his collaborators. From this success he became one of the wealthiest and most influential figures in early Hollywood.

In 1924, Lloyd formed his own independent film production company, the Harold Lloyd Film Corporation, with his films distributed by Pathé and later Paramount and Twentieth Century-Fox. Lloyd was a founding member of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.

Released a few weeks before the start of the Great Depression, Welcome Danger was a huge financial success, with audiences eager to hear Lloyd's voice on film. Lloyd's rate of film releases, which had been one or two a year in the 1920s, slowed to about one every two years until 1938.

The films released during this period were: Feet First, with a similar scenario to Safety Last which found him clinging to a skyscraper at the climax; Movie Crazy with Constance Cummings; The Cat's-Paw, which was a dark political comedy and a big departure for Lloyd; and The Milky Way, which was Lloyd's only attempt at the fashionable genre of the screwball comedy film.

To this point the films had been produced by Lloyd's company. However, his go-getting screen character was out of touch with Great Depression movie audiences of the 1930s. As the length of time between his film releases increased, his popularity declined, as did the fortunes of his production company. His final film of the decade, Professor Beware, was made by the Paramount staff, with Lloyd functioning only as actor and partial financier.

On March 23, 1937, Lloyd sold the land of his studio, Harold Lloyd Motion Picture Company, to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The location is now the site of the Los Angeles California Temple.

Lloyd produced a few comedies for RKO Radio Pictures in the early 1940s but otherwise retired from the screen until 1947. He returned for an additional starring appearance in The Sin of Harold Diddlebock, an ill-fated homage to Lloyd's career, directed by Preston Sturges and financed by Howard Hughes. This film had the inspired idea of following Harold's Jazz Age, optimistic character from The Freshman into the Great Depression years. Diddlebock opened with footage from The Freshman (for which Lloyd was paid a royalty of $50,000, matching his actor's fee) and Lloyd was sufficiently youthful-looking to match the older scenes quite well. Lloyd and Sturges had different conceptions of the material and fought frequently during the shoot; Lloyd was particularly concerned that while Sturges had spent three to four months on the script of the first third of the film, "the last two-thirds of it he wrote in a week or less". The finished film was released briefly in 1947, then shelved by producer Hughes. Hughes issued a recut version of the film in 1951 through RKO under the title Mad Wednesday. Such was Lloyd's disdain that he sued Howard Hughes, the California Corporation and RKO for damages to his reputation "as an outstanding motion picture star and personality", eventually accepting a $30,000 settlement.

In October 1944, Lloyd emerged as the director and host of The Old Gold Comedy Theater, an NBC radio anthology series, after Preston Sturges, who had turned the job down, recommended him for it. The show presented half-hour radio adaptations of recently successful film comedies, beginning with Palm Beach Story with Claudette Colbert and Robert Young.

Some saw The Old Gold Comedy Theater as being a lighter version of Lux Radio Theater, and it featured some of the best-known film and radio personalities of the day, including Fred Allen, June Allyson, Lucille Ball, Ralph Bellamy, Linda Darnell, Susan Hayward, Herbert Marshall, Dick Powell, Edward G. Robinson, Jane Wyman, and Alan Young. But the show's half-hour format—which meant the material might have been truncated too severely—and Lloyd's sounding somewhat ill at ease on the air for much of the season (though he spent weeks training himself to speak on radio prior to the show's premiere, and seemed more relaxed toward the end of the series run) may have worked against it.

The Old Gold Comedy Theater ended in June 1945 with an adaptation of Tom, Dick and Harry, featuring June Allyson and Reginald Gardiner and was not renewed for the following season. Many years later, acetate discs of 29 of the shows were discovered in Lloyd's home, and they now circulate among old-time radio collectors.

Lloyd remained involved in a number of other interests, including civic and charity work. Inspired by having overcome his own serious injuries and burns, he was very active as a Freemason and Shriner with the Shriners Hospital for Crippled Children. He was a Past Potentate of Al-Malaikah Shrine in Los Angeles, and was eventually selected as Imperial Potentate of the Shriners of North America for the year 1949–50. At the installation ceremony for this position on July 25, 1949, 90,000 people were present at Soldier Field, including then sitting U.S. President Harry S Truman, also a 33° Scottish Rite Mason. In recognition of his services to the nation and Freemasonry, Bro. Lloyd was invested with the Rank and Decoration of Knight Commander Court of Honour in 1955 and coroneted an Inspector General Honorary, 33°, in 1965.

He appeared as himself on several television shows during his retirement, first on Ed Sullivan's variety show Toast of the Town June 5, 1949, and again on July 6, 1958. He appeared as the Mystery Guest on What's My Line? on April 26, 1953, and twice on This Is Your Life: on March 10, 1954 for Mack Sennett, and again on December 14, 1955, on his own episode. During both appearances, Lloyd's hand injury can clearly be seen.

On November 6, 1956, The New York Times reported "Lloyd's Career Will Be Filmed." It said, as first step, Lloyd will write the story of his life for Simon and Schuster. Then, the movie to be produced by Jerry Wald for 20th Century-Fox, will limit the screenplay to Lloyd's professional career. Tentative title for both: “The Glass Character,” based on Lloyd wearing heavy, tortoise-shell glasses as a trademark. Neither project materialized.

Lloyd studied colors and microscopy, and was very involved with photography, including 3D photography and color film experiments. Some of the earliest 2-color Technicolor tests were shot at his Beverly Hills home (these are included as extra material in the Harold Lloyd Comedy Collection DVD Box Set). He became known for his nude photographs of models, such as Bettie Page and stripper Dixie Evans, for a number of men's magazines. He also took photos of Marilyn Monroe lounging at his pool in a bathing suit, which were published after her death. In 2004, his granddaughter Suzanne produced a book of selections from his photographs, Harold Lloyd's Hollywood Nudes in 3D! (ISBN 1-57912-394-5).

Lloyd also provided encouragement and support for a number of younger actors, such as Debbie Reynolds, Robert Wagner, and particularly Jack Lemmon, whom Harold declared as his own choice to play him in a movie of his life and work.

Lloyd kept copyright control of most of his films and re-released them infrequently after his retirement. Lloyd did not grant cinematic re-releases because most theaters could not accommodate an organist to play music for his films, and Lloyd did not wish his work to be accompanied by a pianist: "I just don't like pictures played with pianos. We never intended them to be played with pianos." Similarly, his features were never shown on television as Lloyd's price was high: "I want $300,000 per picture for two showings. That's a high price, but if I don't get it, I'm not going to show it. They've come close to it, but they haven't come all the way up". As a consequence, his reputation and public recognition suffered in comparison with Chaplin and Keaton, whose work has generally been more widely distributed. Lloyd's film character was so intimately associated with the 1920s era that attempts at revivals in 1940s and 1950s were poorly received, when audiences viewed the 1920s (and silent film in particular) as old-fashioned.

In the early 1960s, Lloyd produced two compilation films, featuring scenes from his old comedies, Harold Lloyd's World of Comedy and The Funny Side of Life. The first film was premiered at the 1962 Cannes Film Festival, where Lloyd was fêted as a major rediscovery. The renewed interest in Lloyd helped restore his status among film historians. Throughout his later years he screened his films for audiences at special charity and educational events, to great acclaim, and found a particularly receptive audience among college audiences: "Their whole response was tremendous because they didn't miss a gag; anything that was even a little subtle, they got it right away."

Following his death, and after extensive negotiations, most of his feature films were leased to Time-Life Films in 1974. As Tom Dardis confirms: "Time-Life prepared horrendously edited musical-sound-track versions of the silent films, which are intended to be shown on TV at sound speed [24 frames per second], and which represent everything that Harold feared would happen to his best films". Time-Life released the films as half-hour television shows, with two clips per show. These were often near-complete versions of the early two-reelers, but also included extended sequences from features such as Safety Last! (terminating at the clock sequence) and Feet First (presented silent, but with Walter Scharf's score from Lloyd's own 1960s re-release). Time-Life released several of the feature films more or less intact, also using some of Scharf's scores which had been commissioned by Lloyd. The Time-Life clips series included a narrator rather than intertitles. Various narrators were used internationally: the English-language series was narrated by Henry Corden.

The Time-Life series was frequently repeated by the BBC in the United Kingdom during the 1980s, and in 1990 a Thames Television documentary, Harold Lloyd: The Third Genius was produced by Kevin Brownlow and David Gill, following two similar series based on Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton. Composer Carl Davis wrote a new score for Safety Last! which he performed live during a showing of the film with the Royal Scottish National Orchestra to great acclaim in 1993.

The Brownlow and Gill documentary was shown as part of the PBS series American Masters, and created a renewed interest in Lloyd's work in the United States, but the films were largely unavailable. In 2002, the Harold Lloyd Trust re-launched Harold Lloyd with the publication of the book Harold Lloyd: Master Comedian by Jeffrey Vance and Suzanne Lloyd and a series of feature films and short subjects called "The Harold Lloyd Classic Comedies" produced by Jeffrey Vance and executive produced by Suzanne Lloyd for Harold Lloyd Entertainment. The new cable television and home video versions of Lloyd's great silent features and many shorts were remastered with new orchestral scores by Robert Israel. These versions are frequently shown on the Turner Classic Movies (TCM) cable channel. A DVD collection of these restored or remastered versions of his feature films and important short subjects was released by New Line Cinema in partnership with the Harold Lloyd Trust in 2005, along with theatrical screenings in the US, Canada, and Europe. Criterion Collection has subsequently acquired the home video rights to the Lloyd library, and have released Safety Last!, The Freshman, and Speedy.

In the June 2006 Los Angeles Chamber Orchestra Silent Film Gala program book for Safety Last!, film historian Jeffrey Vance stated that Robert A. Golden, Lloyd's assistant director, routinely doubled for Harold Lloyd between 1921 and 1927. According to Vance, Golden doubled Lloyd in the bit with Harold shimmy shaking off the building's ledge after a mouse crawls up his trousers.

Lloyd married his leading lady Mildred Davis on February 10, 1923 in Los Angeles, California. They had two children together: Gloria Lloyd (1923–2012) and Harold Clayton Lloyd Jr. (1931–1971). They also adopted Gloria Freeman (1924–1986) in September 1930, whom they renamed Marjorie Elizabeth Lloyd but was known as "Peggy" for most of her life. Lloyd discouraged Davis from continuing her acting career. He later relented but by that time her career momentum was lost. Davis died from a heart attack in 1969, two years before Lloyd's death. Though her real age was a guarded secret, a family spokesperson at the time indicated she was 66 years old. Harold Jr. died from complications of a stroke three months after his father.

In 1925, at the height of his movie career, Lloyd entered into Freemasonry at the Alexander Hamilton Lodge No. 535 of Hollywood, advancing quickly through both the York Rite and Scottish Rite, and then joined Al Malaikah Shrine in Los Angeles. He took the degrees of the Royal Arch with his father. In 1926, he became a 32° Scottish Rite Mason in the Valley of Los Angeles, California. He was vested with the Rank and Decoration of Knight Commander Court of Honor (KCCH) and eventually with the Inspector General Honorary, 33rd degree.

Lloyd's Beverly Hills home, "Greenacres", was built in 1926–1929, with 44 rooms, 26 bathrooms, 12 fountains, 12 gardens, and a nine-hole golf course. A portion of Lloyd's personal inventory of his silent films (then estimated to be worth $2 million) was destroyed in August 1943 when his film vault caught fire. Seven firemen were overcome while inhaling chlorine gas from the blaze. Lloyd himself was saved by his wife, who dragged him to safety outdoors after he collapsed at the door of the film vault. The fire spared the main house and outbuildings. After attempting to maintain the home as a museum of film history, as Lloyd had wished, the Lloyd family sold it to a developer in 1975.

The grounds were subsequently subdivided but the main house and the estate's principal gardens remain and are frequently used for civic fundraising events and as a filming location, appearing in films like Westworld and The Loved One. It is listed on the National Register of Historic Places.

Lloyd died at age 77 from prostate cancer on March 8, 1971, at his Greenacres home in Beverly Hills, California. He was interred in a crypt in the Great Mausoleum at Forest Lawn Memorial Park Cemetery in Glendale, California. His former co-star Bebe Daniels died eight days after him, and his son Harold Lloyd Jr. died three months after him.

In 1927, his was only the fourth concrete ceremony at Grauman's Chinese Theatre, preserving his handprints, footprints, and autograph, along with the outline of his famed glasses (which were actually a pair of sunglasses with the lenses removed). The ceremony took place directly in front of the Hollywood Masonic Temple, which was the meeting place of the Masonic lodge to which he belonged.

Lloyd was honored in 1960 for his contribution to motion pictures with a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame located at 1503 Vine Street.[39] In 1994, he was honored with his image on a United States postage stamp designed by caricaturist Al Hirschfeld.

In 1953, Lloyd received an Academy Honorary Award for being a "master comedian and good citizen". The second citation was a snub to Chaplin, who at that point had fallen foul of McCarthyism and had his entry visa to the United States revoked. Regardless of the political overtones, Lloyd accepted the award in good spirit.

Lloyd's birthplace in Burchard, Nebraska is maintained as a museum and open by appointment.

[mymelodyheart]

Highland Destiny Chapter 9 ~The Fury & The Beast~

Claire was motionless. She was looking straight ahead, frozen and unblinking. Her awareness was gradually peeling away like she was being split in two. She knew she was no longer in her body and was observing the activities through a goldfish bowl. It was all very dream-like, everything was starting to shimmer like their atoms couldn't hold together, and the colours seemed too bright and the people too close. This sense of detachment frequently happened to Claire when she's about to perform surgery. It was a kind coping mechanism to help her deal with stress and anxiety and aid her surgical work with precision and efficiency. 

"Claire! Claire! Are ye alright? Look at me!" 

She turned. It was Geillis. Claire looked at her face, and she thought it looked like it was made of wax and it was animated by some alien spirit. She smiled at her friend, but it was an empty smile. "I think I need a drink," Claire murmured. She didn't recognise her own voice - it sounded very garbled and distorted, like someone speaking through a very long metal pipe.

"Aye, of course, ye dae...c'mon," Geillis said as she led her away towards the bar. She was concerned about Claire. She knew that look from their medical student days whenever they performed a mock dissection. Her face would become expressionless, and her actions very clinical. And although Claire was fully functional, she was very robotic. Geillis wanted to shake her and slap her on the face to bring her back, but she couldn't. Not in front of all these people. Instead, she ordered a double whisky and made her drink it straight.  Damn ye, Fraser! Damn ye!

It worked. It wasn't long before Claire was sputtering and coughing. And when she came around, the pain was etched on her face.

"Oh God Geillis, what the fuck!" Reality suddenly hit Claire like a massive wallop to her stomach, and the continuous piercing sensation in her heart was returning again.

Joe was there, his firm grip on her arm was supporting her. "Sweetheart, shall we go outside for some fresh air?" he said softly, as Gail looked on.

"No! No! Just let me be, I need a moment alone. Please." Claire's voice cracked. Joe and Geillis knew she was trying to hold it together, but they could only watch helplessly as their friend walked away and headed for the bathroom.

..........

Jamie saw it, plain as day. He couldn't bear it. He couldn't bear to see the pain in Claire's eyes. It was the first thing Jamie noticed before all the insanity began. His head was reeling, and his heart was fragmenting piece by piece as he bore witness to Claire's anguish. In all his life, Jamie had never seen hurt with that much intensity, and it pained him to see Claire like this. He wanted to go to her, but he felt trapped. Confined. Ambushed. Everything was happening too fast for him to get a grip of reality. Annalise's hand felt heavy like manacles on his arm, weighing him down. 

"Smile sweetheart, you wanted this remember. Now look happy," Annalise said through her teeth as she smiled and posed at every snap of the camera.

That's when he snapped. Seething, he could no longer go on with the pretence. "There is no engagement!" Jamie bellowed, making everyone nearby jump. Not caring anymore, he roughly grabbed Annalise by the elbow, steering her through the crowd, brushing past stunned onlookers.

"Jamie! Let go...you're hurting me," she hissed as she tried to yank off her arms from his firm grip.

Ignoring her, Jamie led her out of the ballroom and into an empty conference room. He was fervently praying that Claire would still be around once he dealt with this awful mess.  Oh, Christ Claire, I'm so sorry!  Away from prying eyes, he turned Annalise around to face him, maybe too harshly. He didn't give a damn. "What the fuck was that all about?" Jamie asked in a dangerously, calm voice. He wanted to yell at her but refrained from doing so.

"What do you mean Jamie... I thought you wanted this..." she retorted.

"No, I didna want this. I never did. Neither did ye." He snarled, his temper was quickly mounting.

She glowered at him. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Noticing her confusion, he took a deep breath, feeling frustrated and sick in the stomach. "All these is a fucking farce. Don't ye get it?" He ran his hand through his hair in agitation. "Think back, Annalise, think back for Christ sake! Think back to the time when we started seeing each other. We were dating...we were young....we didn't even talk about any future. Ye loved yer parties, and I was intoxicated with my achievement. Neither of us understood the concept of marriage, let alone even thought about it. When my uncle fell into hardship, I wanted to help. Then yer father came along and dangled the opportunity for me to retrieve my uncle's vineyard...well, that's if I married ye. I dinna ken what he's been telling ye but back then I was willing to do anything to save my uncle's failing business...." Jamie's words came pouring out, unrestrained.

They were both still for a while. Jamie watched Annalise absorbed his revelation.

Then she closed her eyes and exhaled deeply as if a burden was lifted. She lingered a moment to compose herself. "It's all about those shares, then?"

Jamie nodded. 

Pondering, she carried on. "So papa bribed you." It was stated more as a fact rather than a question. She shook her head in disbelief and paced back and forth until she found her next words. "Thinking back...you know... us...I did like you Jamie, and you liked me, and we had fun, but we were never in-love, were we?"

"No. We weren't," Jamie admitted. "But I liked ye enough to go through with the marriage. I thought I was doing something honourable by agreeing to yer father's wishes. But I was wrong. I know that now. Ye would have hated me eventually if I married ye and brought ye here to Scotland. Ye've never liked it here. And I don't want to be anywhere else in the world, but here in the highlands." Jamie paused, trying to think about the best way to soften the blow. "If it's any consolation to ye, I would have tried my utmost best to be a good husband, but that's no guarantee for a happy marriage."

" Fils de pute!"  she cursed under her breath.  " My papa is one manipulative, piece of shit! And it's true...I hate it here. The rain, the greyness, the cold. It rains all the time and living here would have made me miserable." She paused, taking a deep breath. "You see Jamie, I have always followed papa's orders. I had no choice. I've never worked a day in my life, and he holds the purse's string. Sometimes he would threaten me if I didn't comply. His usual threat was to cut off my allowance. So if he says jump, the only acceptable response would be, how high? Do you remember Charles Gauloise? I was in love with him, but he was married. We were having an affair, and I wanted him to leave his wife. So when you asked me to marry you, I thought it was a perfect opportunity to make him jealous and please papa as well. Papa wanted us married because he thought with your name connected to our family name, it would boost his own business. Then Charles found out about our engagement, and when he promised to leave his wife, I broke off our engagement at once. I thought if Charles married me, I would be free from my father's clutches. Unfortunately, Charles' promises were nothing but empty promises. And I fell more than once for his lies; hence, I broke off our engagement twice. I remember now clearly, how relieved you looked when I broke off our engagement. You didn't even look disappointed."

Ignoring the last statement, Jamie demanded, "And how about tonight? What was that all about? For fuck sake, it was like a fucking circus out there. And you fucking knew well I hated all the media attention."

Annalise sighed, feeling resigned. "Everything that happened tonight was papa's design after you told him you didn't want anything to do with Château Cheval Blanc. He was afraid that if your name weren't attached to the business, it would no longer thrive. God, I don't even know why he is hanging on to that stupid vineyard. He hates it, and he doesn't even know a thing about wine-making. So you did do me a favour by telling those people there's no engagement."

Jamie was stunned by the admission, and he softened up a bit. "Christ Annalise, why didn't ye tell me? I could have helped ye. All this would have never happened if ye told me." 

"Helped me how Jamie? We were both played. I am hopeless without my father's money. Don't get me wrong, he loves me dearly, but he loves himself more. At least now, I don't have to continue this fucking charade."

"Ye're not hopeless Annalise! Ye're a talented painter. Any gallery in Paris will exhibit yer work, and ye have a well-known name to boot." Jamie didn't know whether to feel sorry for her or feel exasperated at her spoiled behaviour. Either way, he was eager to get this conversation over with and go find Claire.

She remained silent, pondering what he just said.

When she didn't say anything, Jamie continued. "Ye see, I hung on to our relationship because I thought one day ye will agree to marry me and finally I would be able to restore Château Cheval Blanc as a Fraser legacy. But like ye, I couldn't keep this up...so I decided to draw the line and give up the vineyard because..."

"Because you're in love," Annalise added sighing. "It's that woman in red, right?"

Jamie nodded, failing miserably to conceal his emotion as the picture of Claire's anguished face replayed on his mind.

"I saw earlier the way you looked at her. You have never looked at me that way...not once," she said sadly, thinking of Charles. 

Jamie didn't want to waste any more time. He had to go and find Claire. "Annalise, I'm sorry...I need to see her now. Will ye be alright if I leave ye?" Jamie asked, his voice hoarse.

She smiled weakly. "Of course. You go get your girl. And I'm so sorry for fucking this up for you."

"No lass, it was me who fucked up. I should have told her the truth from the beginning. Dinna worry." He smiled back in reassurance.

"So friends again?"

"Aye, of course."

"Hug?"

"NO! No hug. No offence but I'm in a lot of trouble already so we will leave it at that if ye dinna mind."

Annalise laughed. "Go then!"

Just as Jamie was about to leave, the door opened. "Jaime, we have a problem. Yer uncle is blind drunk and causing problems," Rupert announced.  What the fuck now!

..........

Claire applied cold water to her neck and temple after sitting in the toilet cubicle for the longest time. Despite the heat on her face, she was shivering. Claire didn't want to think of Jamie. She didn't want to cry. All she wanted to do was go home, curl up in a ball and sleep.  It's alright Beauchamp, you can do this! Just breathe! 

The sudden opening of the door made her jump, and the sound of the music from the ballroom drifted in, reminding Claire where she was. As she turned around, she found herself staring at a very inebriated Dougal McKenzie, Jamie's uncle.

"Weel, weel, what do we have here? The pretty wee lady in red..." he slurred as he swayed on his feet. He had his hands on both sides of the door frame to support himself, and his handsome face was puffy from too much alcohol.

"Dougal, this is the ladies room..." Claire explained, hoping he will turn around and leave. His presence was giving her ominous feeling.

Dougal gave her a lopsided smile as he took a step forward. "Och I see that...an' I can see one very, very pretty lady."

Claire tried to go around him, but he was reaching out for her. Slightly tipsy herself, she floundered a bit and almost lost her balance.

"Come here and give me a wee kiss. I promise not to tell Jamie..." he garbled as he took another step forward.

There was hardly any room to manoeuvre as Claire tried to sidestep him. Before she could make her next move, she was cornered as he pitched forward and grabbed hold of her waist. He pulled her to him as he groped at her breast, but the struggle was futile - he was a large man, and his grip was strong despite his state. She tried to squirm out of his embrace. "Let go of me you damn fool or I'll scream!" 

She tried her hardest to push from his chest, but he didn't budge. Then panic set in when he tried to lift her dress, and before she could scream, a large hand took him by the shoulder and the next thing she knew, Dougal was slumped on the floor.

Claire stared in disbelief. It was all like a blur. One minute he was pawing her and the next minute, he's been decked.

"Oh my God, oh my God, he's hurt!" she whispered. Claire didn't even notice Jamie standing there. Everything happened so fast that she didn't see him throwing a punch. All her focus was on the injured man, sprawled lifeless-like at her feet. Oblivious to Jamie's presence, she knelt down by the immobile body and checked his pulse. The doctor in her had taken over, and everything else evaporated.

Then he touched her. "Sassenach are ye alright?" Jamie asked softly as he took off his plaid to placed it over her shoulders. He noticed she had been trembling the whole time. To his relief, she wrapped it tight around her.

"Oh Jamie, it's you...please help me turn him over to his side. He's had too much alcohol, he might choke on his own vomit," she said in a voice that was flat and unfeeling. "And please call an ambulance just to make sure he's alright." 

Jamie helped her turn Dougal but was confused with her response. Claire seemed to be in some sort of trance.

Then she stood up, pulling the plaid tighter around her. "Right Jamie, I have to get going...and remember, call an ambulance please." She patted him on the arm before turning away,

Gently he touched her, again "Sassenach, please look at me, we need to talk...please..." Jamie was beginning to be alarmed.  Oh, God, Claire, please.

The moment he touched her for the second time, Claire suddenly snapped out from her stupor and whipped around to face him, her eyes bright with anger, and her cheeks flushed red. "Don't touch me, " she hissed through clenched teeth. Jamie nearly staggered backwards at the sudden change of demeanour.

"Sassenach please, it's not what ye think..." he pleaded. Jamie was groping in the dark for the right words.

"Not what I think? How do you know what I think! Tell me this James Fraser..." she stepped forward, her face contorted in pain and was mere inches from his, "What am I to you? Huh? TELL ME!"

"Claire, I beg ye, come with me. We have a room here in the hotel..." he implored. He wanted to take her in his arms and soothe her, but he knew there was very little chance of that happening soon.

"A room? Is that it... you think I'll come up with you and everything will be alright? How many women have you taken in that room? And answer my question...WHAT AM I TO YOU? Answer me, damn you." Claire was panting like some wild banshee, and she couldn't stop. "Well, you know what, you fucking bloody Scot, I think you think that I'm just another girl you can stick your cock in and warm your bed while we play little cottage in the woods. That's all I am to you. I'm just another cunt to fuck. Isn't it? Admit it, James Fraser, ADMIT IT YOU BASTARD!" This time Claire was yelling.

Jamie grabbed her arm and pulled her closer until they were nose to nose. His anger was beginning to rise, not towards Claire but because of the whole situation. He only wanted a perfect evening for her, and it was all going very wrong. "Sassenach, ye have a filthy mouth on ye...will ye pipe down please."

"I DON'T FUCKING CARE YOU FUCKING BASTARD!" she yelled.

There was a moment of silence as Jamie and Claire swayed from each other, both stunned by the outburst. They were both hurting and had no idea how to end the madness. Claire wanted so much to be in his arms, but there were so many unanswered questions. And Jamie thought it would be as easy as saying I'm sorry.

He took a cautious step towards her, and for the first time in his life, Jamie bared his true feelings. Gone was the mask. The veil lifted, and his face was one of despair. "Sassenach please, ye're tearing my guts out."

Claire saw his pain, and she wanted to reach out, but before she could, Annalise showed up at the door, her eyes widening at the sight of Dougal's slumped body. "Is everything alright? I heard shouting." At the sight of her, Claire remembered why they were in this predicament. She felt her blood boil all over again.

Seizing control, Claire straightened her shoulder and stared directly at Annalise, "I was just telling your fiance that he should remind his uncle to keep his cock to himself." Claire looked back at Jamie. "I guess he had a boner to pick with me."

Then she walked off, leaving them to stare after her.

"Sassenach! Wait!"

She kept walking, Jamie's plaid still around her and she could smell his aftershave on the fabric. She didn't cry even though her heart was breaking. She kept on walking past a sea of faces aware Jamie was following. She didn't look back. She ignored the nods and glances. She kept walking. Then she bumped into Geillis.

"Claire, we'll take ye home, alright?" She nodded still stupefied from recent events. "Joe and Gail are outside getting the car, and I will get our coats. Will ye wait in the lobby for me?" Claire could only nod again. 

Then she kept on walking again, this time towards the lobby, but Jamie was getting nearer. She quickened her pace and was relieved when she saw Tom Christie. Claire went to him.

"Claire! Are ye alright? Ye don't look too good." He touched her elbow lightly, steering her aside.

"No, I don't feel right. Can you please accompany me outside...Joe is waiting for me there."

"Of course..." Tom put his arms around Claire and escorted her out of the hotel. Jamie could only stand and watch as they walked away.

..........

Jamie left the ball early and went to the cottage. It was very dark. He let himself in, but there was no sign of Claire. He went to the kitchen and saw the pile of morning dishes still unwashed. On the counter was a mug of half-drunk Earl Grey tea. It had Claire's lipstick mark on it. Jaime cleared, washed and dried the dishes. Then he went to the lounge and picked up the cushions from the floor and placed them on the couch and then made his way to the bathroom for a quick shower. In the bedroom, he lied on Claire's side of the bed and hoped that when he wakes up the following morning, everything that happened that night was just a nightmare.