#oh look Jamie lives right near Oxford how about that looks like I was RIGHT HMMM

[1ddiscourseoftheday]

💀 Sat 3 Oct ‘20 🎃

Harryween may have been pushed back to next year, but you know who always come through for us in the clutch: Liam! The LP show logo on veeps has changed to a version that's a carved pumpkin with spoopy flames inside, suggesting a halloween event. How will Liam top the costume he already wore at his birthday stream? I'm aflutter with chills of anticipation... Also he finished the skull drawing he started on his livestream the other day and captioned it “getting ready for Halloween.” I'd have been wildly impressed anyway, but seeing it go from a pencil outline to a shaded masterpiece makes it even more impressive. This fandom is full of things that seem too improbable to be real, and Liam being not just an incredibly talented musician but also a one-time olympic level runner and skilled visual artist with a miraculous kidney who once saved someone from a burning building comes in ahead of even the frankly unrealistic number of identical twins we have to deal with, someone really needs to speak with the writers about dialing it back a touch. Who does they think he is, James Bond or something?!

Charlie Lightening (who was on hand 24/7 at the time of the Walls release and shared with a fan the anxiety he and the rest of Team Louis were feeling about whether it would do well) posted about the album's unexpected return to the chart this week, saying “shoutout to the fans who made this happen. I've seen [their] support globally it's something else,” and Jamie Hartman, who Louis credits with finding him the sound he wanted in their work together, also thanked fans (“[Louis] has some of the most amazing fans in the bloody world!”) and said he “was with him all week making some new magic so it was perfect timing.” Jamie tagged the wrong account for Louis but that's okay since he would have been able to congratulate him in person anyway while they banged out the “four songs in four days” Louis just told us about! What a welcome interruption that wild fan intervention must have been and the perfect boost for those new tunes- talk about a win for fans.

Niall says “we're back!” with a OOTD post and a 9 song playlist for BBC1, so Niall stans who feared that his recent tweet about taking time out might mean we wouldn't hear from him for a while can turn those frowns upside down! I believe he meant not that he was going dark and disappearing but simply that he doesn't plan to release new music while promo and touring are still hampered, which certainly makes sense given the interruption of the Heartbreak Weather release, and his continued media presence would seem to confirm this.

Hey, do you know who else ISN'T James Bond? Well, all of them (even Louis, he was the evil cat), but only one of them went on record to say so today; Harry. According to his team rumors published in the Daily Mail saying he was in meetings to star in the franchise, “aren't even remotely true.” And last but not least, add a name to the varied and bizarre assortment of celebs who have praised Harry: Jon Bon Jovi, who said, “Harry Styles is the real deal. He’s really great.” Someday we'll have to compile that list; it will be thousands long and genuinely the funniest most random possible assortment of people, I'd love to be at that dinner party (but ofc not really as that would be very unsafe and unlike n*zi politicians I would not want to see the Harry fan club suffer the consequences of careless socializing.)

[isitgintimeyet]

Just a Friend

Hope you enjoy the next chapter of this story. Thanks to you all for reading this. You comments are lovely to read.

Thanks to @wickedgoodbooks for the beta

Previous

AO3

Chapter 5: From Facebook to Friends

When I was a little girl, Uncle Lamb would sometimes take me into university with him. I would creep into the lecture theatre and sit at the back watching him as he enthused about Phoenician trade routes, or long gone military strategies. I didn’t really understand what he was talking about, but I loved it anyway. The passion he had for his subject matter thrilled me.

And once the lecture was over, I would join him in his office and we would squeeze together in an old armchair, drinking hot, sweet tea while he tried to explain the principles of a three thousand year old civilisation in words a seven year old would understand.

The armchair is now in my office at the hospital. It looks more than a bit incongruous amongst the standard NHS furniture. The rich green velvet fabric has faded to a shabby eau de nil colour and years of shuffling bottoms have left a large depression in the seat cushion. But I won’t have it reupholstered. I love it as it is. It’s a great reminder of my wonderful uncle. I sit in it and somehow it comforts me, like a soothing hug.

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

I glance at the clock as I walk into my office, paper cup of hot, sweet tea in hand, and head straight for Lamb’s chair. Gratefully, I sink into its depths and take a tentative sip of the steaming liquid before closing my eyes for a moment. The surgery was long; much longer than anticipated—having taken all morning and most of the afternoon, in fact. It had also been far more complicated—my original plans for keyhole surgery had to be changed, but, eventually, we completed the operation successfully. I’m always proud of my theatre team, but never more so than in situations like this.

And now, after hours of concentration, I feel in need of some light relief. I can go home, have a wonderfully reviving shower and then what? I know that Dougal is taking Geillis out for a meal tonight, so she’s not available. Mary and Anna are both working nights this week, so no joy there. Other friends live too far away for an impromptu midweek activity.  I could go to the gym. I should go to the gym. Or… more likely, I’ll go home, have cheese on toast, a glass of wine and watch ‘The Devil Wears Prada’ for the fifteenth time instead.

I reach for my phone to check for messages.  A notification for a Facebook friend request appears on my screen. I very rarely get new friend requests—other than the odd random gentleman hoping, I presume, to make some sort of connection. I always delete immediately.

And, yes, the request is from a gentleman—one Jamie Fraser. The profile picture is definitely Samsonite Jamie, even wearing the Scotland rugby shirt I fingered whilst foraging through his suitcase. I click accept. Why not? I don’t think I have anything too embarrassing on my posts. In fact, I don’t use it very often at all.

Neither, it seems, does Mr. Fraser. His cover photo shows a very youthful bunch of Scottish rugby supporters and his recent timeline seems to comprise mostly of being tagged in photos by Laoghaire Mackenzie. Is it my imagination, or does he have a resigned look on his face on each of their ‘selfies’?

My tea is cool enough to drink now without scalding my tongue. I put my phone down and take a large gulp whilst considering tomorrow’s workload. My job is a series of highs and lows. Today, for example, started as routine, slumped to a worrying low, before peaking at a very relieved high. Tomorrow appears to be an easier day, certainly—a review of patients’ case notes in the morning followed by an outpatient clinic in the afternoon. All follow up patients, and all doing well as far as I know, so tomorrow is shaping up to be a very good day.

I open up my phone again. Facebook messenger is encouraging me to ‘say hi to your new Facebook friend.’  Without thinking, I send a little waving hand emoji to Samsonite Jamie.

I have no sooner put the phone down than it pings. Waving hand returned. I smile. What are we… thirteen years old? Next I’ll be asking him out for an Irn Bru and a bag of chips.

Ping again.  

You owe me…

Shit! The stain on his t-shirt, no doubt. I watch the dots on the screen. Perhaps he’s calculating the cost of a dry cleaner, or a new t-shirt.

You promised me an ice cream.

You up for buying one for me tonight?

I hesitate for a moment. I hope Jamie doesn’t think I’m after him or anything like that. I mean, he’s not really my type. As I’ve said before, I’ve always been attracted to academic, cerebral kind of men like Uncle Lamb, rather than Viking marauders.

And I’ve never subscribed to the idea that men and women can’t be friends. One of my closest friends at university was a man—Joe Abernathy.  If it wasn't for the fact that he is currently three thousand miles away, working in Boston, I would be arranging platonic ice cream outings with him.

So, deciding I have nothing to lose, I type my response.

If you can get to the kiosk by 6:30, it should still be open

A brief pause, then the response.

Great. See you there?

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

Even at a distance, I recognise him sitting at a table next to the kiosk. No white t-shirt today, it looks like some sort of check lumberjack shirt. I breathe a sigh of relief. Not what I would call ‘first date’ clothing. Which is handy, seeing as I’m wearing ripped jeans and an oversized Aran jumper. I’m clean, presentable and fresh-smelling but definitely not dressed to impress.

He stands up when he sees me and greets me formally with a handshake. His hands are warm and dry—no nervous, sweaty palms here, which is another good sign. His shirt is blue, red and cream flannel and actually quite hideous.

“I hope this ice cream lives up tae ma expectations,” he says with the merest hint of challenge.

I crane my neck and look him straight in the eye. “No doubt at all. Cherry bakewell, is it? Double cone?”

“Aye. With a flake too. Compensation, ye ken.”

He stands aside to allow me to make the purchases. Before accepting the cone, he picks up half a dozen or so paper napkins and stuffs them in the pocket of his jeans.

“I’m prepared fer ye now. Do yer worst, Ms Beauchamp.”

I ignore his clear inference and follow him to a nearby bench.

“I can manage to eat and walk at the same time, you know,” I say in mock indignation.

“Hm,” he replies. “All the evidence sae far suggests the contrary. I need proof afore I believe it.”

There’s a moment of silence as we both focus on our ice creams. I lick neatly all the way around, trying to prevent any rogue drips trickling down the cone. Jamie pulls the flake from his cone and consumes it in two mouthfuls. He looks at me and laughs.

“Caught me. I’m a bit of a bugger fer chocolate,” he mumbles before swallowing.

“Right,” he continues, much more clearly now. “I suggest we get all the boring stuff out of the way. Ye ken, name, age, family, job, blah, blah blah. I’ll go first, if ye like.”

I nod my agreement.

“Sae, I’m James or Jamie Fraser. I’m thirty years old. Since our last conversation I am most definitely single. I live in Glasgow, obviously, but grew up on a farm near Inverness. My parents still run the farm. I have one sister, Jenny, who’s married tae Ian, my childhood friend. I have one nephew—a grand little lad known as Wee Jamie and a wee baby niece, Maggie . And I dinna think it’ll be long afore they’re joined by others. They all live here in Glasgow. My job, weel, I have a business—FraserFood—recipe boxes delivered tae yer door.”

“Oh, yes, I’ve heard of that. ‘From farm to fork.” That’s you, is it?”

He smiles proudly. “Aye, it’s me and ma family. Looks like ma marketing manager is doing a fine job, then.”

“Oh, forgot tae say, after the blah blah, ye have tae tell one confession. Only a wee one, mind.” He takes a large mouthful of his ice cream.

I purse my lips. “Really, and what if I’ve nothing to confess?”

Jamie snorts with laughter and does a funny sort of blink, screwing up his face and closing both eyes. Is he trying to wink? If so, he’s failing miserably. I try to look angelic and sin free. Judging by the look of scepticism on his face, It doesn’t seem to be working.

“Sae, my confession is, dah-dah-daaaah,” he does a fake fanfare, trying to build suspense. “I wanted tae be yer friend on Facebook because I wanted tae see if there were any photos of ye in Barcelona, with all yer...er… accessories.”

I feel myself redden. I’ve just remembered catching Geillis on Facebook the other day at work and I’m pretty sure I know what’s coming next.

“Verra interesting… in particular, the one with ye and six penis shot glasses. How d’ye manage tae get two of them in yer mouth at the same time?”

I inwardly curse Geillis and her desire to live her life through social media.

“Excuse me,” I reply somewhat primly. “I don’t think we’re at the Q and A stage yet.”

“So,” I continue in a lighter tone. “Me. Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp. I’m thirty two and I’m a paediatric  orthopaedic surgeon, here at the children’s hospital. I love my job so much, I can’t begin to tell you. As of two weeks ago, I am thankfully single. I was born in Oxford and moved up here when I was twelve, when my Uncle Lamb became a professor at the university. He brought me up, you know. Raised me when my parents died in a car accident... I… er...I was four at the time.”

I can feel Jamie looking at me, but I can’t raise my eyes. Telling people about my parents never gets any easier, no matter how many times I say those words. I concentrate on picking bits of wafer off my cone and throwing them to the ducks loitering nearby, waiting for some sort of treat.

“So it always was just my uncle and me.” I carry on talking. “Then he died… seven...seven years ago…” I can hear my voice start to crack as I fight back tears. A hand creeps into my vision and I gratefully accept the proffered paper napkin and wipe my face.

“Och, lass.” He says softly.

I clear my throat. “I'm sorry. We were having a nice conversation and then there I go, getting all teary. It’s just, well, we were a team, Uncle Lamb and I… the two musketeers. He was my hero.”

Blowing my nose in a most unladylike way, I toss the napkin into the neighbouring bin.

“And that’s pretty much me. As for a confession, well… I suppose it’s kind of one.”

He raises one eyebrow quizzically, making a better job of that than the whole winking lark, I think.

"Ok, well,  when I had your case, I tried to ring before I emailed you. I called the number in your case… twice. A woman answered and told me I had the wrong number—"

"Laoghaire."

"I know that now. But she obviously knew how to get onto your phone."

"Why did ye no' tell me?" He smiles as he says this. It's not a reprimand.

"I would have but you seemed to be coming to a conclusion anyway. No need to add more fuel to the fire."

"Happen ye're right."

He notices me shivering and gets to his feet. “Aye, there’s a bit of a chill. Fancy a wee walk tae warm up and we can carry on wi’ round two. It’s a quick fire round.”

I stand up and we move away from the pond. The ducks have already lost interest in us since they realise that we’ve nothing more to offer them. It’s pretty quiet in the park now, the cooler evening air seems to have kept people at home. The gravel crunching loudly under the soles of our shoes, I glance down and notice Jamie’s doing a sort of awkward stuttering movement with his feet. He’s clearly trying to match his stride pattern to mine. Which isn’t easy when his must be a good few inches longer than mine. Nice, considerate gesture, though.

“Sae, quick fire questions and answers. Ye can go first,” he says generously.

It only takes me a moment to think of a question that I have been wondering about ever since I explored the contents of his suitcase.

“What were you doing in Barcelona? I mean the contents of your case weren’t really fun-weekend-away stuff.”

“Nah, ye’re right. It wasna a holiday—flying visit only. I was there on business—talking tae a food wholesale company. Serrano ham, chorizo, saffron, that kind of thing,” he explains, a look of excitement on his face. “We’re expanding our range, starting with Spanish influenced recipes. A full three courses ready tae prepare, plus wine delivered straight tae yer door. Dinner party FraserFood style.”

He can’t stop smiling as he talks about these plans. And his hands move animatedly as he continues to elaborate on his new venture. His business is obviously his passion. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t got the desire for a relationship with a girlfriend—FraserFood seems to be his one love. No girl could compete.

He stops talking for a moment. “And here I am, boring ye.”

I shake my head. “Not at all, it’s really interesting.” I don’t have to lie. It’s the truth. My mouth is watering at his description of albondigas and flavoursome chicken and chorizo with cannellini beans. I’m ready to sign up for this delivery service any time.

“Sae, ma turn tae ask a question. Tell me, d’ye like this shirt?”

I try to stifle a laugh. The question is so unexpected and the shirt so awful. Trying to be diplomatic, I search for the right words, evading the actual question. “I’ve only seen you in white tops before, no colours.”

He sighs. “Ye’ve only seen me twice afore... anyway I dinna think ye need tae say any more. I ken ye’re being polite, but ye’re a terrible liar. I can tell by yer face ye dinna like this shirt. Laoghaire hated it, always made me change it. I did wonder if that was jes’ her being difficult. But apparently no’.”

“Sorry, I didn’t want to be rude.”

“Ye dinna need tae apologise, Claire. Being honest is a good thing, is it no’? And friends should always tell each other the truth. And that’s what I think we’re going tae be, Claire— friends. D’ye no’ agree?”

I crane my neck  and look Jamie straight in the eye. “Yes, I do… friends.”

[magnoliasinbloom]

Crash Course Love

Infinite thanks to @anna-swims and @lcbeauchampoftarth​ for being awesome betas.

AO3 :: Previously

10: Sleep [Claire]

We couldn’t really put up much of a fight about sleeping in the same room. Jamie and I smiled awkwardly and slunk off to a corner of the enormous living room by the newly kindled fireplace. To any onlooker, it might seem as though we were deep in an emotional or romantic conversation. The truth was, we needed to discuss our next move in this fake relationship of ours.

“What are we going to do?” I whispered, holding his hand and smiling so we wouldn’t give the game away.

“I dinna ken, Sassenach. My mam is clearly over the moon about us.” Jamie bit his lip, shaking his head.

“I think we may be a little over our heads here. How do we keep this up? For how long? I really enjoy your company, you must know that. But I think any future family lunches are off the table. I don’t like lying to your family, Jamie. They’re much too nice.”

“Aye, it’s hard for me too. I couldn’t ask that of ye anymore, after this.”

“Although, you still owe it to me to be my wedding date.” I flashed a smile at Jenny in the distance, who grinned back and returned to her conversation with Ian.

“I havena forgotten, dinna fash.”

Silence fell between us, broken occasionally by the rising howl of the approaching blizzard outside. It was terribly cozy in the house, though. Perhaps staying the night wouldn’t be the ordeal I was imagining; it had to be better than a lonely night in my flat.

We sat in companionable silence, our legs touching. I was immensely comforted by the warmth of the fire, the soft murmur of conversation, Jamie beside me. I hadn’t felt so homey in a long time. Eventually, William and Brian pulled out a chessboard and sat by the fire. My interest was immediately piqued; Jamie noticed and smiled.

“Do ye play?”

“Well, Lamb taught me when I was young. Oxford winters were long, you know.” Lamb and I would spend hours poring over a chess board; Jamie had no idea how skilled I actually was at chess.

“Hey Da,” Jamie called. “Let Claire play against Willie.” He smiled mischievously. “He was president of the chess club at school and at university.”

“Oh, really?” I regarded Willie innocently. “I guess I could play a game.” I took the seat Brian graciously offered me and faced William. He set up the board and I chose the white pieces. Jamie sat beside me – I hoped it wouldn’t prove a distraction. I opened with the Queen’s pawn to D4. I kept my expression as neutral as possible, knowing my glass face could betray my next moves. Willie’s eyebrows shot up as we continued to play, countering each other’s moves. Jamie’s smile kept widening as Willie began to visibly sweat.

After half an hour or so, when I had captured many of the black pieces, I carefully positioned my knight and waited. Brian and the rest of the family surrounded us, their eyes trained on Willie. Finally, with a sigh, he toppled over his king and conceded the match.

The Fraser family cheered, and to my surprise, rallied around me.

“I canna believe ye used the Queen’s Gambit!” William exclaimed. “I didna see that coming!”

Brian swept me up in a hug; I looked over his shoulder at Jamie, who positively beamed. “No one’s beaten Willie in ages—this is a first, Sassenach!”

The room suddenly fell silent at Jamie’s use of the word. Ellen looked aghast with shame and her cry of “Jamie!” brought us out of our reverie. Brian held me even tighter and his face like thunder demanded an explanation from his son.

Jamie’s cheeks burned as bright as his hair as he stammered, “Och, no, Mam, ye dinna understand—”

“How could you?!”

I jumped in myself, and Brian let me go as I tried to explain. “No, Ellen, it’s alright, really. I know what it means, and I know it’s usually used as an insult, but that’s precisely why I’ve co-opted the word, you see. As a nickname. But only Jamie gets to call me that.”

Slowly, the tension in the air diffused as they understood I really meant what I said. Jamie led me away from his father’s side and tucked me into his own. As he laid a soft kiss to the crown of my head, I wrapped my arms around his middle; this display of affection served its purpose, and everyone relaxed.

As the evening grew later, we eventually trooped into the kitchen to reheat the lunch leftovers—no sense in letting so much food go to waste. Willie sat next to me and we discussed chess strategies. It got so, I managed to forget what awaited us at bedtime. Until the men started clearing up the dishes again, and Jenny made a big show of yawning and saying how tired she was. I gave her a dirty look, and she had the nerve to wink at me.

“Weel, I suppose Ian and I are calling it a night. Thank ye, Mam, everything was delicious.” She gave Ellen a kiss on the cheek and whispered something in her ear. Ellen nodded and smiled; I didn’t like that at all.

“Jamie?” she called out. “A bhalaich, why don’t ye head upstairs with Claire. The lads can finish up in here.” Ellen smiled at me like she offered a delightful treat. Jamie stepped out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on his jeans. He looked at me and I shrugged helplessly. He kissed his mother goodnight as well and hugged his father. We trudged upstairs, well aware that Ellen was staring at us with a rapt expression.

When we reached Jamie’s room, he closed the door behind us with a soft snick. I glanced around the room, trying to get a sense of who Jamie was at Lallybroch. There was an old-fashioned mahogany bedstead, a reclining sofa, a fireplace, and dresser. It was simple, beautiful, and comfortable, much like Jamie himself.

He went over to the dresser and pulled a couple of drawers open. “I keep some clothes here; they’ll be a bit large on ye, but they’re warm enough.” Jamie handed me a pair of flannel pajama trousers and a sweatshirt; when I held them against my body, the trousers trailed about a foot on the floor and the sweatshirt reached my knees.

“Thanks. I’ll just fold up the bottom bit for the trousers.” The room, mostly unused, was quite chilly. Jamie set about lighting up the fireplace. I walked around, looking at everything in the room; I touched the spines of battered old books by Robert Burns, J.K. Rowling, and Ian Fleming.

Finally, when the flames were hot enough, Jamie stood up and stretched, groaning in satisfaction. “All set, Sassenach. Um, would ye like to… use the toilet first?”

“Alright, thank you.” Even though the house was old, it had had its own bathroom added sometime in the forties, or so Jamie informed me. He flipped the switch and the bathroom was flooded with light.

“All yours,” he said. “There’s fresh towels under the sink.”

I slipped inside and closed the door. I washed the makeup off my face, brushed my teeth with my finger, and combed through the unruly curls. I shimmied out of my clothes, pulling on Jamie’s borrowed pajamas. They were soft and worn in all the right places, smelling of fresh laundry detergent and faint traces of Jamie’s own scent. I hugged my arms about me after rolling up the sweatshirt sleeves to my elbows to make it fit. I was suddenly startled by a knock on the door.

“Claire? Do ye need anything?” Jamie’s voice was muffled.

“No, I’m done.” I clicked the door open, and gestured him inside. “Take your time.”

I was pulling back the duvet and blankets from the bed when he emerged, dressed similarly to me. I couldn’t help myself; I pointed at us and laughed. Jamie smiled, looking down at his choice of sleepwear. Then he noticed me turning down the bed.

“Och, Sassenach, dinna fash. I’ll be taking the floor.” I knew he was remembering my words about sleeping on the couch downstairs.

“Jamie, it’s freezing. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable for my sake.”

“I willna be uncomfortable. The duvet alone is like a mile thick. I’ll be fine.” He pulled the goose down comforter away from my hands gently and took a pillow from the queen-sized bed to lay them on the floor.

I climbed onto the tall bedstead, curling up on my side; I refused to take up all of the space when Jamie was going to sleep on the floor.

“Are ye alright?” he said from somewhere at my feet near the fire.

“Yes, absolutely. Are you sure you don’t want—”

“Sassenach, ‘tis fine. Will ye get the light, please?”

“Sure. Goodnight.” I reached over to switch off the lamp on the nightstand, and not two seconds later there was a knock at the door.

“Jamie? Claire? May I come in? I have some pajamas for Claire.”

“Ifrinn!” Jamie hissed. He scrambled to his feet and almost tripped over the duvet.

“Quickly, get in!” I whispered, flipping the blankets over. He paused for a second before tossing the comforter on top of the bed and sliding in next to me. I tucked myself against his side, resting my head on his shoulder and Jamie put his arm around me. I shivered; was it the cold or something more?

“Aye, come in, Mam!” Jamie called.

Ellen poked her head through the door and smiled, seeing us cuddling on the bed.

“Claire, dear, I brought ye some of Mary’s pajamas. I thought Jenny’s might be too small for ye to wear.” She gestured at the pile of clothes in her hands.

“Oh, thank you Mrs. Fra—um, Ellen, but Jamie already lent me some of his own clothes.” I smiled as sincerely as I could. I could feel the heat radiating from Jamie’s body next to mine.

“Well, if ye’re comfortable then. Jamie, yer da brought in some extra wood if ye have need; it’s in the kitchen. If ye want anything, we’re right down the hall. Good night.”

“Goodnight,” we repeated as she shut the door. We glanced at each other and burst into a laugh. I could feel his heart pounding beneath my hand resting on his rib cage, and imagined it was the adrenaline rush of almost being discovered by his mother. A thought occurred to me.

“Jamie, what if she comes back?” I asked softly, trying to look up at him but only seeing his chin.

“I dinna ken. She might, just to check on us. It’s rare that she has all three of us under her roof.” Jamie’s grip tightened across my shoulder involuntarily.

“Let’s just both stay in the bed. We’ve done it before, after all. And nothing happened, you know? I trust you.” I blushed furiously, hoping he wouldn’t see it in the dim light.

There was a sharp intake of breath. “Of course, I would never… take advantage. It’s just, the situation, ye ken—” he stammered.

“I do know. Thank you for that. Um, sleep well.”

I tried to extricate myself gently from his side, before he caught on and pulled away, embarrassed. We stared at each other for a beat, two beats… then we turned away from each other. We kept a foot of distance between our bodies on the bed. Jamie switched off the lamp and lay on his side, as far away from me as he could get.

“Goodnight, Sassenach.” His voice was quiet in the dark. All we could hear was the crackle of flames in the fireplace and the wind howling outside the stone walls. I still had something I wanted to say.

“Jamie?”

“Aye, lass?”

“Thank you for asking me to Lallybroch.”

“Ye’re most welcome,” he said softly. After a few more minutes, there was only the sound of his deep breathing. Jamie was asleep.

I was very much aware of his body, large and warm, slumbering beside me. Nothing’s going to happen, I reasoned. I wasn’t afraid it would. Perhaps I was finally more afraid that it wouldn’t—not with Jamie. A feeling within me I thought long-dead was waking up, like a root taking hold before it blossomed into something more.

Bloody hell. I was in so much trouble.

[ladycumhangabhainn]

Dans un autre monde - Chapter 10

Previously

  I was coming to the end of my story, how Jamie had gotten me and Faith to Craigh na Dun when the entrance door came bursting open and the sound of Faith, Brianna and Roger’s crying filled the Rectory.

 “Mama!” shouted my youngest.

 “Bree, darling, what’s the matter?”

 “Roger, lad, why are ye all crying?”

 At the grand old age of 9, Roger wasn’t known to cry for nothing, so something must have happened. Before the sweet lad could answer, the younger Mrs Graham came in, carrying her own daughter Fiona.

 “Reverend, Miss Beauchamp, I think yer lad and lassies might have some ear infection... We were having a picnic, then they started complaining about their ears...”

 “Mama, they scweamed!” sobbed Faith. “They were so loud, mama!”

 I frowned. “What was so loud? Roger, what is she talking about?”

 “The sound, auntie Claire, the sound was awful!”

 Sound? Screams?

 “Where did you say you went on your picnic?”

 “Just outside the city, Miss Beauchamp. Near this hill, Craigh na Dun.”

It took time, some cajoling and a full platter of Mrs Graham’s biscuits, but I finally succeeded in calming Roger, Faith and Brianna. They exhausted themselves and were now all napping in the girls’ room. I made my way back to Reggie’s study, the manse quiet except for the soft music coming from the kitchen.

 “Reggie...”

 The reverend’s desk was scattered with papers, the letters and proclamation I had found, but also what looked like a family tree and a piece of paper filled with Reggie’s familiar scribbling.

 “The bairns...”

 “They exhausted themselves. They’re napping in the girls’ room.”

“Good... I’ve been looking through all the papers ye found and tried to make a timeline... We are now in August 1950 which means that during yer Jamie’s time it is now August 1748... 202 years difference, right?”

I nodded and noted his frowned expression.

“What seems to be the problem, Reggie?”

He sighed.

“It’s all those dates... Nothing is right! The letter from the French King is dated May of 1748... And this letter from the Duke of Cumberland is dated September of 1748... In September 1748, Cumberland was in the Holy Roman Empire for the signing of the Treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle! It is impossible that ye and the lassies... Unless...”

 He started opening drawers full of paperwork, fished out a photograph before going to the mantle of the fireplace and taking a framed document.

 “McMaster!” he exclaimed, handing me the framed and the picture.

 The framed contained what looked like a very old document in Latin with several seals at the bottom.

 “I don’t understand... What is this document and who or what is McMaster?”

A smile appeared on the Reverend’s face.

 “This, me dear, is a photograph of the Declaration of Arbroath, the letters the Scottish barons sent to Pope John XXII in 1320 in response to the excommunication of Robert the Bruce. It is currently held at the Scottish Record Office in Edinburgh. And this” he pointed to the frame, “is an almost perfect copy of the Declaration that was made by a dear friend of mine, Ray McMaster.”

 “A copy, you say?”

 I couldn’t quite believe that this document was not the real deal. It looks exactly like the one in the picture, albeit without the signs of time.

 “So your friend, McMaster... He’s a counterfeiter?”

 Reggie let out a jolly laugh.

 “In another life he might have been... No, he is an artist. He works with several museums throughout Britain. As ye must know from yer experiences with yer Uncle Lambert, artifacts are priceless and mostly fragile. It is the same for documents and that’s when Ray comes in. He made several copies of documents that are on display at the Culloden Museum, like letters from Bonnie Prince Charlie and the Scottish Lairds Declaration to the Old Pretender.”

 “You want to ask your friend to make copies of King Louis and the Duke of Cumberland’s letters...”

 “Yes! It might take him awhile; Ray is quite the perfectionist... But the proclamation is dated July of 1749, so it will give you and the girl time to get ready to make the trip back through the stones...”

 He smiled, sheepishly.

 “And it will give us time to get use to the idea of ye and yer lasses leaving...”

 I sighed before hugging him. The girls and I would be reunited with Jamie and our family back in the 18th century, but it will mean saying goodbye to our 20th century family. The idea of leaving Reggie, Roger and Mrs Graham suddenly made me feel faint... 

“Promise me something, lass... Promise me ye’ll try to find a way to get word to us, to let us ken ye are all safe...”

 “I promise, Reggie... I think I might even have an idea how. You do business with a publishing house from Edinburgh, Fraser Press. It was founded back in the 18th century as F.A.M.M. Fraser, Printer and Book Seller...”

 He frowned. “F.A.M.M. Fraser? Yer lad, Fergus?”

 I nodded. “According to Mrs Graham, Fraser Press still belongs to my Fergus’ descendants... I’ll forever be thankful for what you did for me and my girls...”

 “I feel as if ye and yer lasses are me own... Like ye are part of me family and... maybe ye are, in a way.”

 He took the family tree from the table, it was a MacKenzie family tree.

 “Tis wee Roger’s family tree, from his father’s side. See if ye can find any name ye recognize...”

 I looked at the very top and let out a gasp.

 “William John and Sarah MacKenzie... They’re... They adopted Dougal and Geillis’ son... Oh my God! That means that Roger is...”

 “Dougal, ye mean the War Chieftain of clan MacKenzie?”

 “Yes, he was Jamie’s uncle, his mother’s brother... He had an affair with Geillis Duncan, the fiscal’s wife, but... She was a traveler, from 1968... And Roger can hear the stones as well... But then he is...”

 I tried to calculate in my head, but Reggie was quicker.

 “It means that wee Roger is yer lasses’ 2nd cousin, 6 times removed. So ye are, indeed, family.”

 “So I truly am Auntie Claire!”

 We laughed and cried at the same time, Reggie holding me in his arms and whispering softly. I felt so safe in his embrace. It reminded me of how safe I felt in Uncle Lamb’s embrace.

 “Now, me dear, we have to make preparations...”

                                                           ****

 And so we did. First we had to contact Mr McMaster who took quite his time responding to the message Reggie left with his assistant. Then with the help of Mrs Graham and her coven of druids, we salvaged pieces of the clothing Faith and I had wore on our arrival to 1948 and made three new dresses with lots of hidden pockets.

Slowly I started to get the girls to the idea that we would be leaving our current lives to be reunited with Jamie and Fergus. Faith had an easier time accepting it than Brianna. The 20th Century was all she had known and, although she had been quite young, my eldest daughter still had vivid memories of our lives in the past. She was able to get her sister excited at the prospect of finally meeting their father and their brother. My sweet little girl made sure to tell Brianna that both Jamie and Fergus would love her and that Fergus would teach her all the French comptines she couldn’t remember.

 We celebrated first Faith’s 4th birthday, then my own 32nd and finally Brianna’s 2nd. After Hogmanay, the girls started counting down the day until we would leave. We had decided that the best moment to pass through the Stones would be on the Summer Solstice. And so we counted the days and waited for Mr McMaster to send the copy of the letters. And we waited, and waited, and waited. By late May I was beginning to think the letters would never get on time and that we would miss our window of opportunity. That is until June 15th, 5 days before our set departure date.

 Reggie had taken Mrs Graham, Roger and the girls on an outing by the Loch and I was doing some last minute check, making sure all the medicine I had “borrowed” from the Infirmary would fit in all the hidden pockets of my traveling clothes, counting all the vintage coins we had found in several antique boutiques, when someone rang the doorbell.

 “Yes?” I said to the well dressed man standing on the doorstep.

 “I have a parcel for Mrs Claire Fraser...”

 Claire Fraser... I hadn’t been called that in what seemed like a lifetime ago...

 “Yes... I mean... I am Claire Fraser.”

 He handed me a large envelop before wishing me a nice day. The envelope was indeed addressed to me, but there was no return address. I slowly made my way to Reggie’s study and opened it. Inside were two sealed documents as well as what looked like antique bank statement from the Royal Bank of Scotland and three delicate necklaces with gemstones. In between those documents was a simple white envelope with one word, Madonna.

 Ma chère Madonna,

 You must have now deduced that Ray McMaster and the Paris apothecary you met a long time ago are one and the same.

You see, I have been watching you for years, Madonna. I first met you when you were a small child, pushed in a pram by your mother in an Oxford park. Your light, even at such a young age, shined a bright blue. Our second meeting happened shortly after your parents’ untimely death, when you were travelling to Egypt with your Uncle Lambert.

You see, Madonna, the Beauchamp are quite dear to me and I was tasked – or more likely I tasked myself – into looking after them through Time.  Just like you, Madonna, I am a traveler. I have traveled for so long that I somehow forgot where and when I am from. But I have never forgotten my line. You are of my line, Madonna. You come from a long line of what now people call time traveler.

Your destiny was always to travel through the Stones of Craigh na Dun and to meet your Highlander. And it is my destiny to reunite you with him.

I was able to visit Versailles recently. Do not worry, Madonna, King Louis didn’t recognized me. Although for him 4 years had passed since our last encounter, for me it had been a couple of decades. After leaving Versailles I made a quick detour by Aix-la-Chapelle and met with the Duke of Cumberland. I was able to convince him of the innocence and the loyalty of both you and your Highlander. Quite the man, that Butcher of Culloden.

I know Reginald believe me to be an artist – a counterfeiter maybe – but as you can see I am simply a traveler. Don’t tell him that the Declaration of Arbroath I gave him a couple of years ago is actually one of the original copy. I don’t think he would survive the shock.

Aurevoir for now, Madonna, for I am sure we will meet again.

 Raymond

 PS. I almost forgot, you will also find bank papers allowing you to access an account at the Royal Bank of Scotland in Edinburgh back in the 18th Century. I opened it in 1727 in your name, hopefully the fund will allow you and your Highlander to live comfortably. – R

PPS. The gemstones necklaces should allow you to pass through the Stones and through time more easily. Opal for yourself and your Faith and topaz for your Brianna. – R

 I didn’t realize I was crying until a tear fell on the letter, staining the paper. I didn’t know what to think about all that, but knowing Master Raymond had spent years furtively watching over me...

 “Thank you...” I said before putting the precious documents away.

                                                         ****

 Before I even realized it, it was June 20th. We all went to bed quite early the previous night and got up a couple of hours before dawn. I took my time getting the girls ready before joining Reggie and Roger down in the kitchen for a light breakfast – I knew from experience that it was better to travel through the Stones on an empty stomach.

 “Do ye really have to go, Auntie Claire?” asked Roger, eyes still red from having cried himself to sleep.

 “I’m afraid we do, sweet boy... But I promise I will find a way to get word to you as soon as we can...”

 The car ride was spent in silence and as we arrived at Craigh na Dun we were meet by Mrs Graham and some of her fellow Druids. Unlike for Beltane and Samhain, the Midsommer Druids Dance was done only by 3 dancers led by Mrs Graham.

 “They are ready for ye, me dear...”

 That’s when it hit me... I turned toward Reggie and Roger, hugging them as if my life depended on it, pressing kisses to the cheeks and tasting their salty tears. The girls too hugged them and kissed them goodbye, Brianna having to be pried from her grip on Roger’s neck.

 We finally made the trek up the hill and the buzzing sent more tears to my daughters’ eyes. Arriving in front of the central stone, I took Brianna in my arms, balancing her on my hip, and held Faith’s little hand.

 “Alright, girls... Now I want you to think about your father and brother... Think about them and about finally seeing them... I want you to count to three with me, and at three we will all touch the stone, alright?”

 They both nodded.

 “One... Two... Three!”

 TBC

[renee-writer]

Hitman Chapter 7 A Date?

The next morning, he exits the lift to find Claire sitting in his waiting room.

‘’Good morning Mr. Fraser.’’ She stands when he walks in.

‘’Good morning Miss Beauchamp. How may I help you?’’ He hopes treating her like any other person who comes in his office and not like the lass that haunted his dreams, would cover what she is doing to him.

‘’I thought I would save you the postage and just pick up Frank's, or should I say Uncle Lamb’s book, as I have discovered that Frank stole the research from him. I wish to return it to him.’’

‘’Of course,’’ he leads her back into his office, ‘’ in that case I wouldn’t publish anyway. I've high standards.’’ He invites her to sit. ‘’Can I get you anything?’’

‘’A coffee please.’’ He nods and rings for his assistant, ‘’ Milk and sugar.’’ His assistant enters and he hands him a five pound note.

‘’Go get Miss Beauchamp a cup of coffee with milk and brown sugar.’’ He nods and heads out. ‘’So Miss, err Claire, Frank stole your Uncle’s research?’’

‘’Yes, Uncle Lamb, gave Frank some of his research to look over but he used it without crediting him. He just used it as his own.’’

Jamie’s assistant came in and handed Claire the coffee. They continue the conversation and she tells him he wasn’t only cheating with the book. She tells him about discovering his many girlfriends. Jamie is careful too keep his face a mask. He knew all this. It was part of the reason the bloke had to die. But she is just finding out.

‘’And, a strange thing happened that night, the call wasn’t from the hospital. I stayed because they got busy. Oh, I need to apologize to you Jamie. I wasn’t at my best the first day we meet. Frank had forced me to come along. I didn’t wish to, nothing against you, I just don’t like to be forced into things.’’

‘’I understand. Don’t worry about it. I knew something was wrong but it wasn’t my place to inquire about it.’’

‘’You are a true gentleman. Unlike, ‘’ she sighs and fingers the manuscript he had handed back to her. ‘’well, I must be off. Thank you for the coffee and for listening.’’ She stands up to leave and he stands with her, habits his parents had long instilled coming back in her presence.

‘’Claire, when will you be back?’’ He knows she is heading to Oxford to return her uncle’s work.

‘’In two days, but then working until the weekend, why?’’

‘’I just thought you might want to see the rights of London with me.’’

‘’That would be lovely. I really haven't taken the time with everything else going on.’’ She gives him her number and he walks her to the lift. ‘Thanks for everything Jamie.’’ He stands and watch’s the numbers count down to the ground floor before walking back into his office. Why had he did that, asking her out. He doesn’t take women out. He just pays to take them as a brute when he has need. Shaking his head at himself, he enters her number in his phone. Later in the day, he text her and made sure she had made it to Oxford okay. She had and thanks him again.

Later he looks on the dark web for any other jobs. Oh, that is interesting. He was being hired to take out himself! Hired by his crazy stalker. Well, that will never do. He copies the information, removing any trace of where it came from and sends it to the Yard. The next day he finds out she had been arrested. His sister calls in a panic.

‘��Jamie, oh God, I didn’t know she was that crazy! Are you alright lad?’’

‘’I am fine,, Dinna fash. You couldn’t have ken'd. She is locked safely away now.’’ He reassures her even as he thinks of the lass his heart yearns for. It makes no sense but even as he talks to Jenny, he is texting Claire to make sure she is okay. His relief at her, ‘ yes. Home now. See you this weekend.’ Is more then he feels for his own safety. It is crazy. He is a killer, the killer of her husband.

That Saturday, they meet at the London Eye. They walk towards Waterloo bridge and the Convent garden and some bistro's Jamie knew there. It is close enough to the hospital that if she gets called in, she can easily head back.

‘Do you like living in London?’’ He asks after they are seated. It is a bit cold to be seating outside but it is so pretty.

‘’Yes and no. I lived in Oxford before Frank and I meet,’’ she runs her hand over her left hand, bare now where her wedding ring used to be, ‘’we then moved to Boston. But, after his death, well I needed to be near family. Uncle Lamb helped me see, or is helping me see that Frank's death wasn’t my fault.’’

He is shocked that she would blame herself. ‘’Why would you think it was?’’

‘’I am a doctor Jamie. A doctor and my husband passes of a coronary and I am not there to help.’’

‘’You were at the hospital, aye?’’

‘’Yes just.. The police checked, especially with his parents deaths. Yes. I was. I found out about his adultery later. It wasn’t a motive. We weren’t fully happy. He would say I was working to much. Wanted to start a family. Oh, and then I find out he already has. One of his mistresses is expecting.’’ She starts to cry as she continue, ‘’ I was embarrassed, the wronged women everyone was whispering about. I needed to be where people didn’t know me.’’ Her tears are freely falling now. Jamie feels helpless. He longs to comfort her but taking her in his arms would be his undoing.

‘’Dinna cry lass.’’ He softly says. ,’’He was in the wrong not you.’’ She pulls herself together and her phone rings. A deep breath and a wiping of her eyes before she answers.

‘’Yes. I see. I will be right there.’’ She rings off. ‘’I am sorry but I must go.’’

‘’I will see you to a cab. Text me later if you wish.’’

‘’I will. You are a wonderful listener Jamie.’’

He places her in a cab and pays the driver. He then stands routed to the spot watching her ride off. Now what? He is uncomfortable. He feels strange, at lose ends. He, when he has felt this needy, he knew how to handle it. But the thought of another woman made him feel a bit nauseous. He hurries back to his flat and changes into workout clothes. He runs to the gym and has a brutal workout. He is trying and failing to exercise her out of his brain.

She is beautiful, smart, and sassy. Vulnerable and needy. He is the darkness that should stay away from her light. But he is drawn to it like a moth to the flame. Now what? He has never been here before. He wants her and can’t take her. She is a new widow and he is such bad news.

His phone binged with a text message alert.

‘’I am off. Would you like some dinner with me. I will cook.’’

The smart thing to do would be to run the opposite direction but. ‘Can I bring anything?’

‘Whisky and wine.’

That he can do. A bottle of Fraser's special and a good bottle of wine from his uncle's collection. A shower and shave and he heads to her house.

She comes to the door with a huge smile. It lights up his world. Christ, he is in trouble.

‘’Hello there. Come in.’’ he follows her in. Her home is simple but elegant. Her. He knows what their Boston home looked like from photos he found on the dark web. This was lighter with more her. ‘’Let me get you oriented. Bedrooms upstairs,’’ she says as she places the bottles he had handed her on the counter, ‘’ there is a bathroom on this floor.’’

‘’You have a big home.’’

‘’Well, my uncle and his wife have a 10 year old son, Fergus. I wanted him to have room and space here. He will be coming up next weekend to see the sights. I will take him to winter wonderland.’’

‘’I would be happy to come with you, to keep you and the lad safe.’’ He offers before he thinks. She laughs and he feels it soul deep. That laugh! He knows he would do anything to hear it again.

‘’He is ten and has a ton of energy. Another adult would help.’’

A timer rang in the kitchen and he follows her that direction. She pulls out a roast with potatoes and carrots.

‘’Wow! You made that?’’ She laughs again. She is determined to kill him.

‘’No. My housekeeper did. But, I did cook it. She worries that I don't eat enough.’’

‘’Do you?’’ She shrugs

‘’Come, let's eat and talk.’’

She tells him she had been working hard to keep her marriage and career together. That since his death she had slowed down.

‘’Still a surgeon but went from trauma surgery to consultant in general surgery. Less insane hours. I hardly every have to work weekends now. The irony is Frank would be pleased.’’

He tells her about the publishing world. That it wasn’t near as glamorous as it seems. ‘’A lot of reading bad manuscripts. Oh, there was one about a woman traveling through time to meet the love of her life.’’

That giggle again. ‘’Did you publish it?’’

‘’Nae it wouldn’t have sold.’’

The clean up together after they meal. ‘’I will get some glasses for the whisky.’’

‘’I pray you like it. It is from Lallybroch, my family's estate. It isn’t on the market. Made by my da for our family.’’

‘’Oh nice.’’

They take seats on her couch. Jamie is careful to seat far away from her as the couch allows. But as they drink they move closer. Before he can react, she is pressed close to him and is kissing him. It is just a peak but it is enough to fire his blood. It also throws him into a panic. He freezes for a minute. Now what? His body reacts as his mind struggles. He takes her lips in a frenzy. Now what?!

[three-drink-amy]

If After All These Years, You’d Like to Meet

(This is my first time delving into writing for outlander! Please let me know what you think!! I’m really excited about this story!) 

Chapter One

“Nope, I’m not going.”

“Oh come on, Claire,” Louise whined. “You have to!”

“On the contrary,” Claire replied quickly, “I really don’t.” She looked over at her friend pleadingly. “I just moved back here today.”

“Exactly! Which means it’s been five full years since the three of us lived in the same city,” Louise reminded her.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Claire said before Louise interrupted her.

“Oh my God, Geillis, she said it,” Louise yelled to the other room. Claire rolled her eyes as her other friend walked in to the room.

“Claire, just face the facts, we’re dragging ye out with us tonight,” Geillis said shortly. “Ye can whine all ye want, but ye know ye want to. We even got Joe on board.”

Claire closed her eyes and sighed. “Really? You dragged Joe into this?”

Joe walked into the room as well. “What do you expect me to do, stay here at your new place while you go out and party? Please, I came all this way to help you move. I’m going out to celebrate with you.”

“Your three best friends are on board. I think it’s time you just accepted the invitation,” Louise informed her.

“All my clothes are in boxes and suitcases,” Claire reminded them. “What would I even wear?”

“Throw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt,” Geillis said. “We’re not parading ye around the town, we’re just going out for a drink to celebrate ye returning to London.”

Claire took a deep breath. “Oh alright. Fine.”

Her friends clapped at their victory.  “Great! It’ll just be us and a few other friends,” Geillis explained.

“What?” Claire asked exasperated. “You just said it was just a drink to celebrate.”

“Well they’re celebrating too,” she said with a shrug.

Claire rolled her eyes as she stalked off to find suitable clothes for the evening.

An hour, and much more protesting, later, the four of them arrived at the pub where they’d be meeting the rest of the group. Geillis cheered to a group of four men as they entered the place. “Hey lads,” she called. She put a hand firmly behind Claire’s back and pushed her forward. “Everyone, this is the reason we’re all here tonight. This is my dear friend, Claire Beauchamp. She finally wised up and left the States!” Louise cheered from behind them. Claire couldn’t help but laugh as she looked back at her friend. Geillis turned and nodded at Louise. “Okay, Claire,” she said, motioning to the three men in front of them, “these lads are Rupert, Willie, Jamie, and Angus.” Claire waved awkwardly at them. “Oh, and this is Claire’s friend, Joe.” With a nod of finality. “Okay, let’s get the first round.”

Claire was chatting happily and drinking her glass of wine when she felt her phone buzz. Looking down, she smiled at her phone as she read the text she received. She felt Louise scooch closer as she angled her head over Claire’s shoulder. “Who are you texting?”

She looked up at her friend. “Frank,” she said as she looked back to her phone.

Louise stared at her for a moment. “Why?”

“Because he texted me…?”

“Why are you even replying to him?” Louise asked bluntly.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Claire wondered.

“Because you broke up.”

Claire’s eyes grew wide as she stared at her friend. “What? No we didn’t. What makes you think we broke up?”

“You didn’t break up?” Louise practically yelled. “Geillis,” she called across to the bar, “did you know?” Geillis shrugged in her confusion, unable to hear her clearly. Louise focused back on Claire. “I thought you broke up.”

“Why would you think that?”

“He didn’t help you move. You’re telling me that your married friend Joe came all the way from Boston to help you move to London but your own boyfriend couldn’t be bothered to help you?” Louise looked livid.

Claire felt like she was getting on the defensive. “He’s really busy right now.”

“He’s a historian. Literally nothing is pressing for them,” Louise argued. “He’s making a statement by not helping you.”

Claire glared at her friend. “Please don’t do this. I know you’re not Frank’s biggest fan.”

“What’s not to love about the human equivalent of the color beige?”

Claire sighed as she rolled her eyes. “Look, I’m going to go get another drink, okay?” Louise raised her hands in surrender and waved Claire toward the bar.

“Having a good time tonight?” Claire looked over to see one of Geillis’s friends staring at her expectantly. He was tall and stout with a friendly face.

“Rupert, right?” He nodded happily. Claire smiled back. “Yes, I am. I was reluctant to come out tonight, but I am glad I did. I suppose Geillis was right. Don’t tell her I said that, of course.”

Rupert laughed heartily. “Oh of course not. We can never let the lass know when she’s right.”

Claire continued on to the bar as Rupert walked back to the little corner their gang was occupying. Another one of Geillis’s friends was standing at the bar as Claire approached. He was tall and had striking red hair. Claire smiled at him before she turned to the bartender to get another glass of wine.

“Geillis said yer name was Claire Beauchamp, right?” Claire looked over and nodded. “This is going to sound strange, but did ye used to live in Scotland, a few hours outside of Edinburgh when ye were a wee lass?”

She grabbed her glass from the bartender before looking over at him critically, trying to figure out what he was asking. He was staring at her almost nervously. Claire was nearly positive this was the one named Jamie. Suddenly a thought clicked in her head. “No way,” she muttered. “You can’t be...Jamie Fraser?” she asked disbelievingly.

He nodded, smiling brightly. “Aye, I am.”

“From Lallybroch?” She asked, double checking. “Aye, the same.”

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!” Claire cried, setting her glass down on the bar before bringing the tall Scot in for a hug. “I can’t believe it! How long’s it been?”

“Goodness, I think 18 years,” he replied, still smiling.

“Wow,” Claire said, unable to believe her eyes. “Well how’ve you been?”

“Uh, alright. How about yerself?”

“Well the last 24 hours have been a bit hectic but other than that, pretty good. So how long have you been living in London?”

Jamie sat down in a seat at the bar. “I moved here near on seven years ago now.”

“That beats my six hours by a long shot,” Claire said with a laugh. “How is your family?”

“Jenny’s doing well. She’s married now with four bairns.”

“Whoa. Four?” Jamie nodded with a laugh. “She is either crazy or really knows how to handle chaos.”

“I think it might be a combination of both,” Jamie laughed.

“How about the rest of your family?”

Jamie’s smile faded slowly. “Well ye left Scotland in the spring and that fall, Willie fell ill and passed.” Claire gaped at him, feeling guilty that she’d brought it up. “My mother passed away when I was 12 and my father when I was 21.”

Claire closed her eyes, sitting down in the chair next to his. She reached out and laid her hand on his. “Jamie, I’m so sorry.”

“Ah, ye needn’t be, lass. It was all a long time ago.” He looked up and met her gaze. “Besides, ye lost yours at the same time.”

Claire dropped her head. It had been a while since she’d thought of the car accident that took both her parents from this world. She nodded to the floor. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean my loss was worse than yours,” she said, looking back up at him.  

“So what brought ye to London?” Jamie asked, seemingly trying to change the subject.

Claire smirked. “Well I’d been living in Boston and Uncle Lamb was here in London working at the British Museum. He got really sick in the last year and I was over here all the time to try and take care of him. I requested a transfer from my hospital in Boston to one here in London and it was approved. I filled out my new employee paperwork three days before he died.”

“Christ,” Jamie muttered. “I’m so sorry.”

Claire shrugged. “It’s alright. In the end, it was him who brought me back to London. Between you and me, I probably could have transferred back to Boston, but I didn’t want to. I loved Boston for a while, but when I started spending more and more time here in London to be with Lamb, it just made me much happier. It was a hard time but being in London helped. We came here in between digs Uncle Lamb went on. When he died, I think everyone expected me to return to Boston. Hell, I think even the people who’d just signed me on here expected me to return to Boston. But I couldn’t picture leaving London again. So I took a couple of months to set Uncle Lamb’s estate straight and to box up my life in Boston and now I’m officially back.”

“And ye’re happy with it?”

Claire nodded, a small smile on her face. “I am. Though I think Geillis and Louise are even happier I returned.”

“Yeah, how do ye know those two?” Jamie asked, looking over at the two of them and back to Claire.

She laughed as she settled back in her chair. “We met at Oxford. We were all in a biology class together in our first year. We formed a study group and the next year were flatmates.”

“Christ,” Jamie laughed. “The three of ye lived in the same flat?”

Claire nodded with a grin. “Yes indeed. It was at times chaotic for sure. But it was also a good time. Then we all went on to different post graduate schools. I went to medical school at Harvard and stayed in Boston for my residency.”

“So ye’re not only bragging about going to Oxford, but also Harvard, and the fact that ye’re a doctor,” Jamie teased.

She covered her face as she laughed. “It could definitely sound like that, couldn’t it?” Jamie nodded with a grin.

“Ye said yer Uncle Lamb went on a lot of digs,” Jamie recalled. “Where was the best place ye went?”

Claire opened her mouth to reply when she felt her phone ringing in her pocket. “Oh one second please. I need to take this.” Jamie nodded. Claire angled away from him as she answered the phone. “Hi there!” she said cheerily.

“Claire? Where are you? It sounds loud,” Frank replied.

“Oh, Geillis and Louise dragged me and Joe out for some drinks.”

“Oh,” he said quietly. “Well I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

“No, Frank, you’re not bothering me!” Claire assured him.

“Well it sounds as if you aren’t free. Doesn’t sound as though you’re missing Boston very much either. Why don’t you call me later when you’re quite finished partying,” Frank said shortly before hanging up the phone. Claire stared at the phone in confusion before putting it back in her pocket.

“Is everything alright?” Jamie asked kindly.

Claire nodded. “Sure. That was just my boyfriend. He doesn’t seem very happy that Geillis dragged me out tonight.”

“Well why doesn’t he come out too?”

“Because he lives in Boston.”

“Oh,” Jamie replied with an awkward expression. “Can I ask why he didn’t come help ye move?”

Claire stiffened. “He was busy with work.”

“Ah. Is he a doctor as well, then?”

“No,” Claire said with a sigh. “He’s a historian.”

Jamie raised his eyebrows. “Aha. I didn’t realize that was such a...demanding profession.”

She laughed loudly. “Well you win the most tactful way to say that!” She shook her head as she continued to laugh. “Geillis called him a cowardly prick and Louise thought we’d broken up and that was why he didn’t come.”

“I dinna ken the man so I canna pass judgment,” Jamie said kindly.

Claire felt very impressed by Jamie’s statement. That certainly wasn’t how most of her friends felt. She didn’t feel like talking about Frank any longer though. Talking about Frank was a minefield of feelings. “I believe before my phone rang you asked me the best place I went with Uncle Lamb.” He nodded with a smile. “I really loved Egypt! It was a really neat place.”  She took a sip of her wine. “So did you stay friends with Ian Murray?”

Jamie laughed. “Oh aye. He’s actually married to Jenny.”

Claire gaped at him. “No way. They got married?” Jamie nodded. “He’s the father of her four babies?” He continued nodding. “Your best friend married your sister?”

“Aye,” Jamie said through a laugh. “I coudna quite believe it for a while myself.”

“That’s amazing,” Claire said, taking another drink.

“Aye and they’re both still living at Lallybroch.”

Claire shook her head in awe at the mental image. Soon Claire and Jamie started reminiscing on their shared childhood. Her parents had moved to Scotland for her father’s job when she was four years old. They lived in a house across a field from Lallybroch. Her mother had quickly become friends with Jamie’s mother. Naturally, their children that were the same age spent a significant amount of time together and became quite close friends as well. Claire and Jamie spent most days of the week playing together at one of their houses. Often Ian would join in the madness as well. His family lived in the same village. Jenny, Jamie’s older sister, would join them in their shenanigans when she didn’t deem herself too old for them. The four of them were a tight knit group. Claire’s mother came to rely on the Frasers to watch Claire after school or times when Julia was unable to take Claire with her. Often, Claire was already over at Lallybroch anyway. Jamie had become her best friend and confidant for a good chunk of her childhood. But when Claire’s parents both died in a car accident that somehow spared her, Uncle Lamb took over custody of Claire and she left Scotland, and the Frasers, to go with him.

Before she knew it, she and Jamie had been chatting for quite a while. Louise came over and tapped Claire on the shoulder. “We’re getting ready to go.”

“Oh goodness,” Claire replied, looking at her watch. “Yes, I should too. I’ll come with you.” She turned to pay her tab at the bar. The whole gang seemed to be putting on coats and preparing to leave the pub.

“Well it was so good to see you again, Jamie,” Claire said happily as she turned to him before walking out the door.

“Aye, and you,” Jamie agreed. “If ye’d like, we could grab lunch sometime and catch up more.”

Claire smiled at the offer. “I’d love that! I’ll have to get settled at the hospital first, but that sounds great.”

“Of course. Just let me know when ye have the time. I’m sure Geillis will force us all to go out again as well.”

Claire laughed as she looked over at her friend. “Absolutely she will.”

She bid farewell to the others as she walked away with her friends. “How did I know you’d fall for Jamie?” Louise asked Claire with a grin.

“What? I didn’t fall for Jamie!” Claire exclaimed defensively.

“Please, ye spent all night talking to the lad,” Geillis reminded her. “We all have eyes and can see that he’s handsome. We’re not judging ye for falling for his charm.”

“Well for your information we actually knew each other as kids. We were catching up,” Claire informed them. “And it wouldn’t matter how charming he is because I still have a boyfriend. Remember?”

Louise groaned. “I’d rather forget.”

Claire rolled her eyes as she climbed into a cab with her friends. “I mean it can’t last long, right?” Louise asked. “He didn’t even help you move.”

“He’s a good man,” Claire insisted.

“He may be a good man, Lady Jane,” Joe said, “but there’s a reason I’m here. And it’s because one day you walked into work and said Frank wasn’t helping you move. I have a wife, child, and more demanding job that I left behind to help you move.”

“Is that not concerning to ye’re wife?” Geillis asked.

“Nah,” Joe disagreed. “She told me if I didn’t help Claire she would and she’s pregnant.” Joe shook his head as he laughed. “We love Claire enough to make sacrifices for her.”

“Joe, stop taking their side,” Claire pleaded.

“It’s not your side versus their side. It’s just that Frank may be a good man, but that doesn’t mean he’s a good man for you.”

“Ooh, I’m going to have to remember that line,” Louise cried. “That’s a good one.”

Claire sank into her seat in the cab, wishing to get back to her flat so she could finally sleep. Her first night back in London had been a much longer one than she’d initially anticipated. Though as she thought back on her long conversation with Jamie, she realized that it wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

Next chapter

[owlish-peacock36]

A Piece of Home: New Year’s Eve Pt. 2/2

I know it’s almost a week late, but that’s just how I roll... Enjoy!!!

9:45 pm

She had 15 minutes--15 more minutes until Jamie Fraser himself was to show up at her door.

Shit.

It was strange; Claire wasn’t one that worried  overmuch about her appearance. She knew, strictly speaking, that she was fairly attractive, despite the ever expanding width of her hips. But there she was, zhooshing her hair and plucking at her dress in the mirror. She had just enough time for a couple last minute preparations: one more swipe of mascara to top off her smokey eye makeup, a thin layer of neutral pink lipstick, small earrings for a little sparkle. There. It was as good as it was ever going to be.

But it definitely wasn’t bad at all.

A knock at her door almost caused her heart to jump out of her chest.

Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ. Damn his punctuality.

Slipping on her black ankle boots (heeled for a little height boost) and throwing on a leather jacket (for extra warmth), she went to answer the door.

***

He was nervous. That was a damn understatement. Jamie could practically feel the sweat dripping down his spine. Gross. That wasn’t exactly the impression he wanted to make on Claire.

It was time, though. Breathing deeply, he raised a tentative fist to her door.

“Coming!” Claire’s muffled voice replied through the wood.

Ten seconds passed before she answered the door. It took all the effort Jamie could muster to stop his jaw from dropping.

Suddenly, he felt entirely underdressed in his simple olive oxford and dark denim.

She was stunning. Of course, Jamie always thought she was stunning, even as a disheveled college student at 8am classes. But that was understated; she liked to blend in.

There was no blending in this evening.

Her dress, the deep color of fine wine, clung to every curve and dip of her body. He wished to spin her around so he could see every curve.

Don’t be a dog. Her arse isn’t yours to fondle.

Her hair was as wild as ever—a dark storm cloud around her impeccably made up face.

Jamie realized then that he was staring. “Claire, ye look incredible.”

A pretty blush colored her cheeks. “Thanks. So do you.” Her small finger flicked his shirt collar. “That green looks great with your hair.”

He felt his cheeks pinken.

Damn it.

“Thank ye. Shall we?”

“We shall.”

***

Blurs of forest and evening skies flew past Jamie’s car window. He had been driving for 20 minutes; Claire wondered how much longer he would continue.

“Where does your friend live?”

“No much farther.”

The houses became sparser as they grew in size.

“This seems like a...uh...wealthy neighborhood.”

“Oh, aye. It definitely is. John’s an entrepreneur. His partner, Hector, is a doctor. They can more than afford to live here.”

“Oooh, I didn’t know you had such rich connections.”

“Mmhmm. It’s good to have friends in high places,” he chuckled. “Nay, John’s a good friend, though. We’ve known each other since we were lads.”

“Well, I will be happy to meet him, then.”

***

Whatever Claire was expecting, it wasn’t what stood before her.

Mansion. That was the word that immediately came to mind. Jamie’s friends lived in a mansion. The outside was completely constructed of stone--light in color and old-worldly. Floor-to-ceiling windows took up most of the facade, allowing for inner lights to spill onto the grass outside. Two small towers took residence on the front corners.

Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ… Did this used to be a castle?

An array of automobiles sat in the horseshoe driveway, with people milling about in between. Suddenly, Claire felt very nervous.

How many people are here?

“Are ye coming, Sassenach?” Jamie had already exited the car, waiting for his date.

No. “Just a second.”

Taking a deep breath and brushing off her dress, she went to join him.

“There ye are.” A grin spread across his face, pulling at the small dimple in his chin. Claire had the sudden urge to kiss that tiny indention. The urge was forgotten, though, when Jamie’s large hand slipped into her own, intertwining their fingers. She hoped he couldn’t hear her heart hammering. “Let’s go in, then.”

***

If the outside of the house was magnificent, the inside was resplendent--decorated in warm tones that set the entire home aglow. The golden lights lit Jamie’s hair as he walked beside Claire, a homing flame.

Beautifully dressed guests littered the floor, drinks in hand and smiles turned on. Claire could hear the faint, thumping beat of bass heavy music.

“John’s probably upstairs. That’s where the dancing is.”

“What, is there a dance floor upstairs?” Jamie’s lack of answer spoke loud enough. “Jesus. Does he have his own bowling alley in this house, as well?”

“Nay, but there is a hot tub in the back.” With an attempted wink (both eyes closed in an owlish blink), he grabbed her arm and led her to the center of the house where the staircase stood. It was wooden, reclaimed and stained dark. The steps curved upward in a confusing spiral shape.

“That must be hell if you’re drunk…” She mused.

“Aye. Tis.” Another owlish blink, and they began their ascent. Thankfully, the staircase was wide, allowing for them to walk side-by-side.

“You’re speaking from experience?”

“I dinna ken what yer talking about…”

“Jamie, answer the question: Have you, or have you not fallen down these stairs?”

“I dinna think--”

“It’s a yes or no question, James.”

“Yes! Alright? Twice!”

“What? You didn’t learn the first time?!”

The two fell into a fit of giggles as they entered the second floor landing. The music became increasingly louder as the lights dimmed.

“Excuse me,” a voice came from the shadows. “I hear fun!”

The voice appeared as a man, well-dressed and handsome, with slick blond hair and a drink in his hand.

“John!”

“Hullo, Jamie!”

They embraced as only men do, complete with pats on the back. Claire stood off to the side, not wanting to get in the middle of their friendship.

When they broke apart, Jamie spoke: “John, this is Claire.”

“Claire, huh?” Pale brows waggled suggestively. Claire wondered how drunk this man was. He stepped forward, hand outstretched. “Well, Claire. I’m John. Jamie’s best mate. Welcome to my home.”

Claire grasped his hand in her own. “It’s a pleasure, John. And your home is wonderful.”

“Thank you very much. We like it well enough. I’m not sure where Hector ran off to, though…”

“Maybe I’ll find him on my way to get a drink,” Jamie interjected. “Do ye want anything, Claire?”

“Whatever you’re having is fine.”

“John, ye need a refill?”

“No, no. I’m fine. Thank you.”

“I’ll be right back then.”

Jamie descended the stairs again, and John looped his arm through Claire’s.

“Come on, dear. Let’s dance.”

“Oh, I’m not a dancer…”

“Neither am I, but it is fun.”

Claire couldn’t resist the pull of the music, John’s infectious smile, or his arm grabbing hers. He led her to the room on the right where the music manifested. Opening the door, Claire was greeted by a plethora of bodies, writhing about in the multi-colored disco lights. The sound bursting through the speakers was unfamiliar, yet tantalizing; she couldn’t stop the slight sway of her hips.

“You’ve got it, love.” John wrapped an arm around her waist familiarly. Not usually one for unwarranted touches, Claire found a comfortability with her new friend; she didn’t mind his touches. “But, it’s more fun in the middle.”

The two weaved through the humidity of people, ducking beneath flying arms and dodging the pulse of bodies. They stopped at a clear space near the center of the room.

“Alright! Let’s go!” Releasing her, John began to move his hips in time with the music. He said he couldn’t dance; he was a liar. “Come on, Claire!”

She tried, shaking her body awkwardly. She knew she had a good sense of rhythm, but her limbs swung stiffly making her look very much like a puppet.

“Loosen up!” Easy for him to say—he was at least four drinks deep. Gripping her hands again, he shook her arms vigorously. “Loosen.” Shake. “Up.” Shake.

“I’m trying!”

But he did not let go. Instead, he began to lead their dance, showing her the ropes. She felt much more comfortable with his guidance.

“Am I missing all the fun?” A low burr murmured in her ear.  Claire whirled around to find Jamie grinning, two drinks in hand. One was handed to her

“Jamie! Thanks! John was just trying to teach me to dance.”

“And how is that going?”

“Awful.”

“It is not!” John interjected. “You’re not as horrible a dancer as you think. Besides, we were having a good time. That’s what’s important!”

“Weel… Ye won’t mind if I cut in, then, will ye?”

“Not at all. I need to find Hector anyway. I’ll see you two around, alright?”

They waved goodbye as John ducked through the crowd.

“He’s a good one.”

“Aye. I like him weel enough. Now. It is my turn to dance with ye.”

“Oh, Jamie, I don’t—“

He wasn’t accepting excuses. Grasping her free hand like John had, he began to move—a frantic shaking of the hips and hopping that jostled his curls. His happiness was contagious, and Claire found herself mirroring his moves.

“Woohoo!”

And so they drank and danced. Claire could feel her hair growing from the heat and sweat. So much for the careful styling that took her an hour...

As if reading her mind, Jamie leaned in and whispered in her ear: “Ye look so beautiful, Claire.”

He had said it earlier, but the way his breath caressed her skin as he spoke so earnestly made her shiver. “Thank you.”

They began swaying closer, then—his fingertips gently dipped into her hips as her hands twisted into the curls at the nape of his neck.

“I’m glad ye came here with me.”

“Me too.”

The two continues to dance, the fronts of their bodies melding together and their hips rolling in time with the heavy beat. Claire could feel every inch of him against her. Overcome with arousal, she pressed her forehead against his.

“Jamie, I—“

“IT’S COUNTDOWN TIME, EVERYONE!” John’s voice boomed over the speakers. Jamie and Claire started at the interruption, but did not break apart.

“10! 9!”

Claire’s fingers wound deeply into Jamie’s hair, scratching his scalp. He moaned gently at the sensation.

“8! 7!”

Jamie pulled her tighter, flush against his own body.

“6! 5!”

His hands spanned her entire back, holding her close.

“4! 3!”

She licked her lips.

“2! 1!”

Lips pressed together.

“Happy New Year!”

It was an explosion of feeling, much more passionate and wild than the kiss they shared at Christmas. Mouths opened, and their breath mingled. Jamie’s tongue probed hesitantly, and Claire welcomed him enthusiastically. A small moan vibrated through her body, shaking them both.

And as other couples began to pull apart, Jamie and Claire remained stuck together, enjoying the feeling of the other’s lips.

[phaedrecameron]

House of Fraser, Chpt 4- Un Dono

“Jamie! The Randall fiancée is here.”

“Her name is Claire, Marsali. Send her back would ye?” Asked Jamie.

Jamie turned back to his table. He had several fabrics laid out in various colors. He began his mental checklist as his eyes scanned his workspace: satin, taffeta, silk, charmeuse, brocade, sheer, lacy, ivory, light gold, neutral.

His fingers tapped a tattoo on the table as he sought to calm his nerves. He hadn’t been this nervous since his first runway show. He fiddled with his collar. He was wearing well worn jeans, a burnt red v neck sweater atop a white Oxford, both rolled up at the sleeves, and his lace up boots. He was sporting a few days stubble.

After several minutes, Jamie looked toward the entryway.  He walked into the foyer. Marsali pointed to one the siderooms.  There he saw Claire speaking on her mobile. Her back was to him, but from the set of her shoulders and the movements of her arms, he knew she was angry.

Her hair was in a low ponytail. She was wearing a leather jacket, a fuzzy knit beanie and light weight wool trousers. He knew he should leave and give her privacy, but he felt rooted to the spot. Abruptly, she turned and saw him. He meant to apologize, but he caught sight of her face.  Jamie pushed the door fully open and was at her side in an instant.

“Claire, are ye alright?”

“Ah, Mr. Fra—“

“Call me Jamie.”

Claire brushed an escaped curl from her face. She looked up at him, smiled, and slowly backed away. Jamie realized he was all but on top of her and had lightly gripped her elbow.  He immediately took two steps back. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didna mean.. I thought…”  

“It’s alright,” she readjusted her cross body purse, “my job.” She shrugged. Claire expected him to drop the matter, but he stood his ground, waiting to see if she truly was okay. “I…one of my patients is very sick,” she explained, “his only hope is an expensive experimental drug, not approved in the U.K.”

Her face was like quicksand, he could read all her emotions as they formed, coalesced, and dissipated. He saw her fear, hopelessness, anger, and determination.

“The hospital is trying to convince the family that conventional treatment is the best course, but they’re wrong.  Just bureaucrats more interested in cutting costs and forms in triplicate!” Claire’s fists curled.

Jamie took one step closer. He noticed a small cluster of silver hair near her right temple; the strands threaded through her curls, hiding and peeking through like a swirl of cream through coffee.  “Dinna doubt yerself, I’m certain ye’ll persuade them.”  

She looked somewhat shocked by his statement.  “You have a lot of faith in someone you just met,” Claire replied.

“I know things and I’m a good judge of character,” he gave her a half smirk and bumped her shoulder.

She couldn’t help but smile as she looked into his face. He smelled earthy…sandalwood maybe. He’d grown a bit of facial hair. He really could model his own clothes. She quickly looked down when she realized she was staring.

“Have ye always wanted to be a doctor?”

“Yes. Always. It’s the only thing of which I’ve ever been sure. And to help children…. to see them endure such horrible pain when their lives have just begun,” she shook her head, “I was born to it I suppose.”

Jamie watched as the same stubborn curl fell to her eyebrow. He fought the urge to brush it from her face. “It must take a lot out of ye, to give so much of yerself to help. The bairns are lucky to have ye.”

“Well, it’s my job. No different than anyone else’s, really.” Claire tried to brush off his implication.

Jamie scoffed, “the skill to save a child‘s life? ‘Tis a gift Claire, truly.”

Her face seemed to light up at his words. Jamie realized, inexplicably, that she wasn’t used to being complimented. She smiled and looked away. When she looked back at him, Jamie knew he had been staring longer than could be considered polite. He turned and grabbed a clean sketchbook and pencil that was sitting on a table. Seeing Claire’s curious gaze, “I keep em lying around. Ye never know when inspiration will strike,” he gave her one of his half smiles.  He sketched for 30 seconds or so while Claire tried in vain to see his work.

“Shall we?” Jamie moved to the door.

Claire began to follow. “Will I see those?” She pointed to the now closed sketchbook he held in his hand.

“Possibly,” he teased. Jamie couldn’t show her the sketches. The sketches were designs for the spring line, not her gown. Looking at her had dislodged him from the rut he’d been in regarding the line’s direction.

Claire shook her head at him, freeing more curls, “Alright, this will be a good distraction,” she said without thinking. “Oh god.” She cringed and closed her eyes. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean that this,” she motioned to his studio, “isn’t important…that what you do—?

“Dinna worry. I understood yer meaning. I may not be saving children’s lives, but I’d like to think I bring a bit of joy into the world.”

He turned and Claire followed him down the hallway.

Claire was soon distracted by his studio. It was enormous. There were huge windows and skylights. She saw long tables covered in fabrics, scissors, measuring tape, pins and that was just what she could identify. There were large standing boards covered with clothing designs. Some were hand drawn, others computer generated. There were mannequins and cameras. The back wall contained a row of large screen desktops.

“Claire, you remember John? He and Marsali will be assisting periodically.”

“Um, yes, hullo.” Claire’s head continued scanning the studio.

Jamie felt an unexpected pride at being able to impress her. She started to wander between the tables, Jamie carefully following behind. “Did you design all…of this?” She waved her hand in the air, her engagement ring glittering in the natural light.

“Mostly, but it’s a team effort. I oversee everything. Set the theme.”

“It’s amazing.” Awestruck, she turned to face him.

It was the first time he’d seen her true smile. He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat, “thank ye.”

She stopped at the table where he had laid out the fabrics.

“Is this..?” She looked at him for confirmation.

“Aye, feel them.”

She ran her fingers along the fabrics. There was the cool smoothness of satin, the rough snag of embroidered lace, and the uneven bumpiness of an embellished bodice.

“I don’t know where to start,” her voice low.

“That why I’m here. Come.” Jamie winked. Or she thought he winked, it was more like he blinked both eyes.  She laughed as he directed her to a wooden step placed before a floor length mirror.  

She stepped up and Marsali removed her jacket, revealing her plain black t shirt.  Jamie came by her side.  While on the step, they were at eye level. His deep blue eyes swimming with mischief.

“I think the color is the first decision,” Jamie stated as he brought the fabrics near her arm, “look at these.” Claire looked at the fabrics in the mirror as he brought each close.  “Yer skin is fair…almost pearl like. This would suit ye best.”  

She shyly touched her neck. “Oh? And which color is that?”

“It’s a shade of ivory, called ‘forever’.  Though... light gold and champagne are also options.” He stepped back to grab more fabric. She peeked at him in the mirror. With his jaw set in concentration, he was completely in his element. She could easily imagine him spending his days and nights here, lost in a frenzy of creation. That passion and calling to a vocation was something Claire understood well.

“Also yer quite tall,” he was saying. He was walked behind her and raised his hands.  “May I?”

She nodded. He gently grabbed her ponytail and deftly pinned her hair up; his fingers grazing her neck as he did so. Claire felt the hair on her arms raise at his touch and wondered how many models he had done that for.

“Ye’ll want to show off yer neck, maybe?” He didn’t wait for her answer, but grabbed a sketchbook and began scribbling.  He’d look up every so often, furrow his brow, and keep on scribbling.

Claire thought she would dislike being stared at and fussed over like a toy doll, but she felt…excited. A sudden energy hummed throughout her body. She twisted her hands and sighed with relief. She knew Frank worried about her lack of enthusiasm for the ceremony. She assured him she wasn’t a ‘big wedding ceremony’ type, but secretly she worried also. The pressure Frank was under was enormous. He needed her to be present for him on their wedding day; be what he required. She owed him that. Perhaps with Jamie’s help, a little piece of the wedding would be hers also. That would make it easier.

Jamie held out his sketchbook. “What do ye think? Would these suit ye or…Frank?”

She gasped as her hands swept over the pages.

“Yes, yes, they’ll suit.

[whiskynottea]

An Interruption in the 1st Law of Thermodynamics.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24, Chapter 25, Chapter 26, Chapter 27,  Chapter 28, Chapter 29, Chapter 30, Chapter 31, Chapter 32, Chapter 33, Chapter 34, Chapter 35,  Chapter 36, Chapter 37, Chapter 38, Chapter 39, Chapter 40, Chapter 41, Chapter 42, Chapter 43, Chapter 44

AO3

@theministerskat , thank you so much for your beta!

Chapter 45. Decisions

Jamie accepted the offer from Michigan. We had written the email together - simple, polite, formal. The email that would change the course our lives.

“Will ye help me with the SATs too?” he had asked, turning in his chair to look at me the moment we were finished composing the email. “I canna do it without ye, Sassenach.”

“Of course I will,” I assured him, wrapping my hands around his neck and pulling him closer to kiss the tip of his nose. “What would you do without me, I wonder.”

“I don’t mean to find out,” he said, and my breath caught in my throat.

I didn’t answer, only smiled and kissed him again, hoping he would never have to find out. No matter the distance between us, we would always be together. 

Since that moment, I kept catching myself watching Jamie for long, lingering moments, trying to memorize every little detail of him. 

How the hands he casually dipped in his pockets while talking to Brian sought mine when I was close until our fingers interlaced, inseparable.

How his eyes creased into two narrow slits when the sun hit his face, and the smile in his voice when he called me to him.

How he said babe, Sassenach, Claire. How these words changed when he whispered them into my mouth, his breath filling my lungs.

You’re going to talk to him and see him even when he’s away. You’ll FaceTime. Get your shit together.

And yet, no matter how hard I tried to convince myself everything was normal, every time my gaze fell on him it was impossible to not think about how much I would miss him.

Every time Jamie was near, our bodies gravitated towards each other desperate for touch; magnets unable to resist the electrical currents between them. 

It takes force to pull two magnets apart. Force and strength I didn’t know if I possessed. 

Jenny and Ian came back from their trip with matching smiles that revealed truths they wished to keep secret forever. Jenny talked to me about the breathtaking views, the adorable puffins, the beautiful seals and dolphins, but most of all, she talked about Ian. Sweet, strong, dependable Ian. Her Ian. She was over the moon for him and it cheered me up to tease the composed Jenny Fraser who all of a sudden acted giddy, like a little girl. It was a welcome distraction during the hours Jamie spent at the distillery with his father, and Jenny’s smile transferred a bit of her happiness to me. 

At night, confined in the safety of my room after finishing dinner and helping Jamie prepare for his SATs, I googled universities in Michigan. It would be easier that way, if I were to follow him. My heart would remain whole, solid.

Michigan was good. The universities were great. Jamie and I would be together. And yet, it felt so wrong. It felt like I was betraying myself. 

Oxford University had always been my dream. There, in UK���s oldest university, amongst old buildings with neoclassical architecture and impressive libraries, I would become a doctor. 

The idea of going to the US had never crossed my mind, before. And even if I were accepted, Joe had told me how difficult it was to get a scholarship. I would end up with a loan and huge debt I would have to pay off for years to come. On top of that, Jamie had never asked me - he knew me well enough to know Oxford was the only place for me. But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t think about the possibility.

“Claire,” Jenny’s voice was quiet but rang strong in my ears. We were sitting in the library with our tea cups in hand, having just finished cleaning the house when I decided to tell her that I didn’t want to follow Jamie to Michigan. “It’s the right thing to do,” she said with certainty.

“I really don’t know what’s right anymore.” My voice faded out and a sigh followed my words. 

“You need to do what’s right for you. You’re eighteen years old, Claire! You have to focus on yourself. And if your relationship with my brother is meant to last forever, you will make it through the hardships.”

Down to earth Jenny. With a hint of optimism and a belief in fate I had never seen in her before.

“I’m thinking, sometimes…” I rubbed my eyes, wanting to keep the tears hidden. “If all this was a movie, what would I do? Wouldn’t I follow him? Do everything to be with him?”

“Depends on the movie,” Jenny said and chuckled. “If you were a Hollywood movie, yes. If you were a European one, though, you would most probably break up with him and leave Lallybroch with a smile, ready to travel the world. Or go volunteer somewhere. Or something like this.”

“Well, I’m still here,” I whispered, pulling my legs closer to my body.

“Ye are, Claire. And ye support him, that’s what’s important.” Jenny scooted closer to me, set her cup on the table and took my hands in hers. “I really hope my brother will support you, too. If there is any brain left in his heid from loving you.”

“So, you say Oxford,” I half-asked for the millionth time.

“Aye. I say Oxford. I say Claire first.”

“And if we can’t keep what we have? With the distance? It’s a whole other continent.” My voice trembled with the thought, and the tears I forcefully kept down rose, forming a lump in my throat, threatening to choke me.

“If ye can’t stay together… Ye just won’t.” Jenny saw my raised eyebrows and hastened to continue. “I mean, there is not only one ideal person for each one of us, Claire. Ye could be happy with someone else, too.”

Optimistic Jenny my arse.

“I can’t,” I raised my voice in despair. 

Jenny laughed. “Ye see, the good thing wi’ the two of you is that ye are both so pigheaded. And ye both want to make it work. So, since ye both see the same future for this relationship, I am sure ye’ll be alright. I told that to Jamie too, ken. That there are no soulmates. D’ye want to know what he said to me?”

“What?” I asked, and my heart drummed in my chest, demanding an answer as soon as possible.

“He said that even if there are no soulmates, ye are his. And that he’ll not let ye go from his life, no matter what. He can be dramatic at times, don’t ye think?” she asked, and my laughter hurried out, clear and loud through the tears. “But ye see the point, right?” she continued with a smile and I nodded, my heart quiet again. “Ye want the same thing, Claire. Ye believe in each other and in what you are together, and I think that’s more important than soulmates.”

“We do,” I agreed and smiled back at her. “We do.”

Jenny opened her arms and hugged me tightly. Tears rolled down my cheeks on her t-shirt, as she held me, allowing me to see further than fears and insecurities. 

“Thank you, Jenny.” I said at last, brushing tears off my eyes.

“Always,” she said, holding my hands tight. “I love ye, Claire. My brother loves ye, too. Dinna be afraid.”

–

I woke up in the morning with a message on my phone. 

Scot: Breakfast at our spot, Sassenach. Don’t be late.

“Our spot,” I murmured, but my lips curled up in a glorious smile. 

My sweet Scot.

With a summer dress on and a quick good morning to Brian and Jenny, I headed to the hill behind the house.

Our spot.

The day was beautiful, the sun already up and on its journey towards the west. The same direction Jamie would go. 

Oh please, Claire. He’s still here.

Jamie was sitting on a red and black plaid set upon the grass, a thermos of coffee waiting for me. My gaze fell on the mini apple pies that looked suspiciously similar to the ones I had found on a website with recipes a few days ago, and I shook my head, smiling.

God, he always makes me smile.

“You made the pies?” I asked, finding hard to believe in my own eyes considering how early he would have had to be up to have them ready by ten in the morning.

“I did.” Two blue eyes locked with mine and I heard the unspoken words suspended between us. I would do everything for you.

“Will we join me, Sassenach?” he asked instead, gesturing towards the empty side of the plaid.

“Since you have coffee and food… You do know how to keep me close, don’t you?” I plopped myself down next to him, excited and absolutely graceless. 

Jamie wrapped a hand around my waist, pulling me closer to him. “Ye’re too far away,” he murmured while doing so, and crushed me against his ribs. “Much better now.” His voice was soft, his breath brushing against my skin.

“Good morning, Jamie.” I tilted my head just so, and his lips were on mine. I kissed him and he kissed me back, as if weeks had passed without seeing each other.

“Good morning, wee vixen,” he said when I bit his bottom lips and freed my lips from his.

“Vixen, am I?”

“Aye, my wee vixen.” He rested his forehead against mine, as the words slipped from his mouth. We breathed in sync, smelling the summer around us, the love within us. When we started kissing again, Jamie leaned into me, lowering my body to the ground until my back hit the plaid. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” I whispered, brushing red curls off his forehead. All the shades of red were dancing among his locks; maroon and cinnabar, crimson and carmine. The sun and the shadows fighting for dominance. I took a deep breath, and the spices of his skin invaded my nostrils, intoxicating. He was summer, and spring, and a fresh autumn breeze.

How would I live without him for so long?

Shut up, Claire.

I kissed him hard, and then even harder. He kissed me back, and in less than a minute his jeans and boxers were off, a heap next to the trunk of the tree that covered our bodies with leafy shadows. Their shapes changed as we ran our hands over each other, distorting nature’s perfection only to create shadows of leaves and branches formed by two bodies. Half a leaf on him, half on me. Whole, together.

“Jamie.” I stopped him when I realized if someone walked up the hill they would see us. “Stop.”

“No,” he whispered, and it was more like a plead than a negation. “Why?” 

“What if someone comes this way?”

“No one will come here, Sassenach.” His lips were hot on my neck. “Trust me?”

I did.

Jamie pulled my dress up, pushed my panties aside and entered me in a swift move, setting the gasps caged in our chests free. With each thrust, I dissolved into him. It was need, pure need that connected us. The need to feel, to grasp, to root the other to ourselves. To prove that we are strong, unbreakable. Jamie whispered in my ear words that formed no sentence, words that made no sense and yet my heart knew them all, each and every one of them. 

Only you, mo chridhe, I need ye, mine, I want ye, now, mo ghraidh, forever.

I felt him trying to control himself, waiting for me, and we reached our peak together, throbbing against each other, two bodies bursting and becoming one with a silent vow to eternity.

He fell atop me, his breathing shallow and fast. I kissed the sweat on his lips, searching in those eyes I loved so much and finding nothing there but the truth. 

“I promise,” he said, and the moment I heard him I started crying, unable to control myself. Drown in my own feelings. 

“Claire,” he said, alarmed, now his eyes that were searching mine. “Hey, babe… What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I shook my head in negation and bit my bottom lip hard, wishing the tears to disappear.

Too late.

Jamie got dressed quickly and gathered me in his arms. “Talk to me, Claire. We can fix it all, but please, talk to me.”

A long minute passed before I could calm my breaths and gather my courage.

“I’m sorry,” I said at last, turning in his arms to look at him. “I’m sorry I won’t follow you to Michigan.”

Jamie’s eyebrows shot almost to the middle of his forehead. “What? What are ye talking about, Claire? I never asked ye to come wi’ me!”

“I know,” I nodded. “You never did and I never volunteered, but I can’t stop thinking about it since you told me the news.”

“Claire,” he said, cupping my face with a warm palm, his fingers obstacles to my tears. “I dinna want ye to come.”

It was my time to look at him with eyebrows that formed two perfect arches above my eyes. “What do you mean?” I asked, ready to lash out at him.

“No, not what ye’re thinking!” His eyes got wide and I felt him tense, indignation making the muscles of his body rigid. “I can’t imagine something better than being at Michigan with ye. Truly. That would be a dream.”

“So?” I asked, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

“That would be my dream.” A smile caressed his face before it was hidden again, like the sun rays dancing behind the leaves above us. “Ye took my decision for me, and now I’m taking yours. I want ye to go to Oxford. I want ye to follow yer plan.” His lips were warm against my forehead, and I felt his kiss easing my soul. “Ye deserve this, mo chridhe. Ye worked hard for it and I won’t take it away from ye. I would never do that.”

I didn’t know what to say. Jamie took a deep breath, moving his fingers through my curls. “I love ye, Claire,” he said, his voice filling the air between us, forcing their way in my heart. “And I trust in us.”

“I trust in us, too.” My words reverberated through my body, settling like feathers on every inch of my existence.

Jamie crushed me to him and I closed my eyes, listening to the words he had said before, now creating a perfect stream of sentences. “Ye’re everything to me, mo chridhe. I need ye, I want ye, I love ye. Only you, mo ghraidh. Ye’re mine, now and forever. I promise, Claire.”

“Now and forever,” I echoed him. 

We stayed locked in that embrace for a moment that would last forever, imprinted in our minds, in our beating hearts. I finally felt serene after days filled with uncertainty and inadequacy, doubting about our future.

A while later I disentangled myself from him and gave him my cheekiest smile. “Now I have to try these pies, right? To see if you’re worth all the heartbreak of a long-distance relationship.”

“Aye,” Jamie laughed, and his slanted eyes shone in the daylight. “We dinna want ye to be trapped in a bad deal.”

“Indeed we don’t,” I said, reaching for a pie, but not before capturing the soft skin of his neck between my teeth.

The vixen had to be fed.

Chapter 46

[mybeautifuldecay]

Private Tutor. Chapter Five: Birds Out Of A Cage.

This one definitely broke my 500-1000 word chapter limit but it was needed.

As well as dedicating this fic, as always, to @gotham-ruaidh I have to say a very special thanks to @suhailauniverse who really got my head out of the sand with this chapter. I doubt it would be finished without her assistance. You’re a gem Suh and I love you lots. 

Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Four. 

Winter had passed them by in a whirlwind. Claire had been away over the Christmas break, Frank had taken her back to Oxford to spend the holiday with his family and when she had returned in early January, Jamie had noticed a dip in her mood. But now, well into April, Claire had finally perked up again.

“I think we should go somewhere new today. What do ye say?”

Brushing her new fringe out of her eyes, Claire looked over at Jamie and nodded. “That sounds really nice, especially on such a lovely day,” she said, a small glance over to the window confirming that the sun was indeed still shining outside. “Where were you thinking?”

“Would ye consider a wander down the Clyde? We could find a nice pub and have some lunch outside and then come back to study some more?”

“I like that idea a lot.” She replied, already packing her belongings back into her bag before she’d even finished speaking. “But only if you let me get us lunch. After all, you’re paying tuition fees and then giving me all of this knowledge for free, which is incredibly kind of you.”

“Ach, ye dinna need to thank me. I like our afternoons together, they keep me sane and up to date on everything I need to remember as well. I’m not a completely selfless creature.”

“I highly doubt that.” Claire returned, glancing across at him as she pulled her cardigan on and stood.

They walked the short journey to the river in a companionable silence, their hands knocking against one another as they walked. A nice breeze drifted alongside them as they passed beside the casino and down towards the Hydro and the science museum. Being late afternoon midweek there weren’t many other people milling about which made the trip even more enjoyable.

“Have ye ever been around the science museum?” Jamie asked to break the silence.

“Once. For a gala.” She replied, immediately ending his line of questioning.

It was clear she meant she’d been here with her husband and Jamie had done a very good job of distracting her from his existence. Their library time was free time. There, Claire wasn’t married to Frank and he was free to create, in his own imagination, a life outside of The MItchell where she wasn’t tied to an arsehole.

As the mast of the distinct ship moored near to the Hydro appeared to their left, Claire swallowed and tapped her fingers nervously against her leather bag.

“I wanted to explain why I was so quiet after I came back from Oxford,” she said quietly, “but I never found the right time really.”

Jamie remained silent, his head turning so that he could catch a glimpse of the side of Claire’s face as they walked onwards. He sensed this wasn’t going to be a pleasant conversation but he didn’t want to say anything that might stop her from talking to him.

“The subject of children came up again, with Frank and I.” She said finally, her heart racing as she spoke. “It’s his parents. They always have to stick their noses in, it’s a pain in the arse. We’ve tried before and nothing. I asked him to get tested, but he refuses. So I did it myself one week when he was away on a field trip like he is at the moment.”

“Ach, so that’s why yer about so much these days.” Jamie replied with a smile in his tone. “What does he do, yer husband?”

“He’s a professor. I didn’t tell you because I thought you might have encountered him up at the university and I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear what you might have to say.” Claire sighed.

Eddies gusted around them as they walked in the direction of the nearest pub. A sorrowful silence fell over them as Jamie waited for Claire to continue.

“He’s away this week. Some sort of residential for final year BSc students he said. I can’t  recall where he went the last time, but I couldn’t deal with the not knowing anymore and I took myself to the doctor to get tested. It isn’t me, I’m alright...in that department, but Frank’s too bloody proud to have the test done himself. So we endure the ridiculous dance with his parents over when we’re going to give them grandchildren.”

“So you spent Christmas pretending everything was alright when it clearly wasn't?” Jamie surmised efficiently.

“Something like that yes.” Claire replied her mind replaying the nights she and Frank had spent in his childhood bedroom. The perfunctory sex that she hadn’t wanted but he had. To keep up the pretense that they were still trying to get pregnant when they weren’t. Here in Glasgow, Frank barely touched her, she had her own room and he would only share her bed on certain nights. That’s how she liked it. Their marriage was no longer one of love but of convenience.

“He didn’t hurt ye did he, Claire?” Jamie asked when the lull in conversation between them became heavy.

“Oh, no…” Claire answered quickly, “I’m sorry,” she backtracked, instantly feeling guilty for Jamie’s assumptions, “I shouldn’t be putting all of this nonsense onto you like this.”

“Dinna be so daft, Claire. I’m yer friend, aren’t I? That’s what I’m here for - for you to offload onto - anytime.”

Sitting on a bench outside in the beer garden, Claire smiled shyly as Jamie passed her the drinks and food menu.

“Thank you, Jamie, truly. I don’t think I’ve ever really had a proper friend. It’s difficult to know what I should talk about, and what I should keep to myself.”

“Aye, I ken that well, lass. Yer like a bird set free of her gilded cage, aye? It’s easy to be brave and offload yer troubles when you’ve always had the luxury of doing so wi’out fear. But I’m glad ye consider me your confidant. You don’t ever have to tell me anything ye dinna want to, you know. But I willna break yer trust. Whatever you tell me I’ll keep to myself.” He said, thinking about Claire’s earlier comment about Frank’s whereabouts this week. He was glad that she had some time by herself but he knew a couple of third year history majors and he was fairly confident that there was no field trip. Interested piqued by the fact, Jamie stored that little tidbit away to think about later.

"And what about you?" She asked suddenly, pulling him out of his reverie. He'd wanted nothing more in that moment than to erase that look of faux bravado on her face. To reach across the divide between them and take her hand in his.

"Och, I havena much happening as ye," he said sheepishly. But if a moment was what she needed, a moment of honesty, then a moment is what he'd give her. “No’ so much now I’m settled. But I ken what it feels like to be trapped by yer duties.” He continued, thinking of Lallybroch, his home, for the first time in a long while.

Claire saw the shadow of something altogether not pleasant pass across Jamie’s face before he returned the easy smile he seemed to wear consistently. He seemed adept at keeping his feelings and emotions well hidden, as opposed to her. Frank always told her she had a glass face, one easily readable by those around her, and it had always irked her.

“I had an older brother, Claire. His name was Willie. He was my idol. He was the one who was supposed to take over our family business. He was all ready to do it, too. But he was diagnosed with leukemia just before his eighteenth birthday. I was thirteen at the time. Jenny, my elder sister was fifteen and Rabbie only five. We sat with him through the chemotherapy - that’s where I got my first taste of hospital life,” he went on to say, the interest alive even though the sorrow of the reason for him finding himself amidst the doctors and nurses was plain to see, “I dinna think I’ve cried so much before or since. Watching him battle on like that for months on end.”

“Christ, Jamie, that must have been horrific.”

“Aye, it was,” he said sadly, “three years of his life where he should have been learning the business, living as a young man and going out wi’ lassies and such. But instead he was chained to a hospital bed being pumped full of poison.”

“I can’t imagine that.” Claire replied. Having no siblings herself, she had no prior knowledge of what it might be like to have a close relative battle with such an unstoppable illness.

“I watched him die. I’ve never felt so distraught in all my life. I was sixteen when he finally lost his battle with cancer. We’d all just celebrated his twenty-first birthday but his body couldn’t take it anymore.”

“And then it was just a given that you’d take on the business?” Claire asked as she wiped away the tears that had gathered in her eyes.

“Aye, well, no’ straight away but when I got to eighteen, my da sat me down and told me it’s what he had planned. He and mam had settled it in the will that Lallybroch and the farm should come to me and for a time I tried to be that person. I wanted to make Willie proud of me, ye ken?”

She nodded, the ache to reach out and touch him, hug him, overwhelming her - but she kept her hands to herself for the moment.

“Suffice to say it didna last long.”

“How did you break the news to your family?” Claire questioned, her woes about her own situation dissipating as she focused solely on Jamie and his history.

“I just sat them all down together one night. I’d fashed about it for months. Waking up at silly times to milk the cows and move all of the animals around wi’ this horrible weight on my shoulders, bearing down on me until I just couldna take it anymore. Mam cried. Jenny - weel if ye ever meet her ye’ll ken the make up of the lass - didna say much at all. My da, he understood, but it took him a while to actually accept my choice. I’d been in Glasgow for two months studying when he came to see me. He broke down. I think he thought it was his fault as he’d pushed the farm on me wi’out really asking whether it was something I truly wanted.”

“It sounds like you have a lovely family, Jamie, even if they’re a little presumptuous at times. It makes me miss my parents.”

“What happened to them?” Jamie asked quietly.

“Maybe another day, yes? It’s still hard for me to talk about...but I want to tell you.”

“Dinna fash,” Jamie said his pinkie finger tapping gently against Claire's, “I’m here for ye anytime, Claire. Yes?”

“Yes.” She returned, drawing her bottom lip into her mouth as her cheeks pinked and she smiled softly. “And the same applies to you. Friends?” Claire said holding out her hand as she winked cheekily.

“Friends.” Jamie accepted, taking her hand and squeezing it softly.

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Pick Me! | Chapter 2

Chapter 1

My mind slow and groggy with sleep gradually turned into the pounding ache of a wine hangover. I gripped the side of the attached upholstered sofa cushion as my stomach lurched and churned with a sudden sickening feeling as consciousness slowly came back to me. I was laying half on, half off the living room sofa still in my disgusting scrubs and an empty bottle of wine wedged between my back and the cushions.

My phone dinged at the same time my iPad lit up with notifications.

“What?” I questioned aloud my eyes going cross with the brightness of the screen before the sinking dread filled me with ice and sudden flashing memory of the night before. “Jesus H Roosevelt Christ!”

I didn’t look at the numerous notification bubbles until I opened the home screen, where an obnoxious red oval told me I had 103 messages.

“Jesus H Roosevelt Christ,” I whispered again in astonishment. “Why so many?”

With trepidation, I clicked on the message icon and scrolled through to see just how many people made up the 103 messages. My eyes widened in shock, “FIFTY!”

My hand shook as I clicked on the first message…and then nearly launched the iPad across the room to get the offending thing away from me. The fear of breaking the screen was the only rational thought keeping me from tossing it as yet another grotesque message and an even worse image was in the following five! After the tenth message with nothing but disgusting, thoughtless images and slurs inside I responded.

Hello Red & Black Jack,

Fuck Off. Do the world a favor and hide your tiny gnome dick then go home. 

Hot Shot Lady Doc

I copy and pasted the message and continued to send it to each and every dick pic sent to me, which was an alarming twenty people out of the fifty that sent messages overnight.

Finally, after the multitude of disgusting messages, several vulgar and suggestive message–one of which said “What’s long and hard and full of Seamen?”, there was one person I vaguely remembered sending a message to last night that seemed to have responded.

Hi Hot Shot Lady Doc,

Or may I call you Claire? I am most definitely a real man, I definitely am not one of those people who creep on the internet to prey on women like yourself, and I would love to have coffee with you. I think my time as an army surgeon and your current profession would give us a fantastic base to start on. I’m free any time tomorrow, or this weekend. If you are serious about the meetup please call me at +44 07778 008897.

I look forward to meeting you.

Army Doc, John Grey

My brow furrowed in confusion. “What the fuck did I even say to him?”

I reread his message then anxiously scrolled up to see what prompted his unusual first sentence.

“Oh dear God.” I groaned in horror as ice filled my veins. “Please tell me I didn’t do that.” I closed my eyes but the drunken words were burned into the backs of my eyelids.

Hi Amry Doc!

Are you a real man? OR just one of those crazies who want to kidnap and rape me?

Yuor picture is very cute adn yuor cute and yeah.

We should have coffee!! I love coffee!

I’m sorry I’m a little drunj it’s my bithday!!! Happy lonely Birthday to me!!! My best friend gave me wine and this dating app for agift! She’s nice but I don’t know about it but guess I should give chance. So coffee soon? Please!

Claire

“At least I spelled my name right,” I grumbled and flopped face first onto the leather of the couch. With half of my face still pressed into the couch, I messaged the very kind Army Doc back.

Hi John,

I’m so sorry for my drunk messages last night. Thank you for being kind enough to reply. I don’t know why you did. I know I asked last night, but I’m reaffirming I’d love to get coffee. I’m free this afternoon, it’s my only day off this week from the hospital. Where and when are you available to meet?

Claire

I moved my head back towards the cushion where the stench of the hospital and stale wine mingled with the rich leather. I let out a huff and pushed myself up from the couch, a shower was definitely in order.

The pounding water and fresh steam of the shower helped clear the fog from my head and bring my body back to a semblance of normalcy. In the hour and half, I had spent under the water, two new messages had arrived from the dating site. Still wrapped in a towel, I thumbed through them.

Claire,

Please think nothing of it. If it weren’t for my brother I guarantee I would not have had the nerve to respond to someone like you. I would be honored to meet you in Oxford if that works for you. Would Vaults & Garden off of High Street near All Souls and Radcliffe Square be easy for you to get to around 15:00? I have a noon meeting at All Souls and will be in the area for the full day before driving back to London.

John

My heart picked up a beat and I felt my face flush in excitement as an uncontrollable smile lit up my face.

John,

15:00 at Vaults & Garden would be wonderful. See you there! I’ll be the one in–

I stopped and looked at my wardrobe, debating the possible combinations and hating every single option.

“Get a grip, Beauchamp! It’s only coffee!” I said confidently before blindly reaching for a hanger.

I’ll be the one in green.

Claire

The second message was from one of the original men who I matched with and apparently hadn’t made a fool of myself with.

Hi Hot Shot Lady Doc,

Christ, these dating apps and usernames really make it difficult to take even myself seriously. I’ll start out with my name is Jamie and I’m–

I failed to read the rest of his, what I’m sure was a well thought out message, and snooped on his profile. In the picture, he had on a garish red jumper with giant blue balls knit into it. Did he think this was endearing? I tried to ignore the jumper and focus on his face but found my eyes kept creeping back down to the ridiculous article of clothing.

Seumas Ruadh

Name: James Fraser

Occupation: Wining Fraser - Owner/Distributor

Looking For: Something unseen, yet felt between

Interested In: Women with a kind heart, and sharp mind

“Oh, well now why did you have to go and say something cute Mr. Fraser?” I huffed in mock exasperation scrolling back up to focus on his face. A strong jaw, sharp cheekbones, with a long straight nose let to piercing blue, smiling eyes. Eyes that seemed to smile and be illuminated from behind, made my heart skip a beat and butterflies to flutter in my gut. A tumbling mass of red curls framed his face and the lone stray curl that curved towards his left eye made him even more enticing. I wanted to know this man.

I gazed at his likeness for longer than what would be deemed appropriate, lost in his smile that lit up his entire face, like that moment in time he could not be any happier. “Now I have to go back and read your message, you’re too adorable not to.”

Hi Hot Shot Lady Doc,

Christ, these dating apps and usernames really make it difficult to take even myself seriously. I’ll start out with my name is Jamie and I’m new to this whole online dating experience. I’m 28, no kids, never married. Is that the kind of thing people mention on here? I don’t know. I’m the owner of Wining Fraser, a small wine distribution business based out of Edinburgh. I love what the wine business does. Not only do we get to experience a new world with every company and every bottle, we–I–get to bring joy to people. I suppose that’s why I’m using this insane way of finding a date. I’ve lost myself in my work and figured now was as good a time as any to attempt to find that missing something or I suppose, someone. I do hope you’ll respond back, and I look forward to getting to know you.

Jamie Fraser

I caught myself laughing at his choice and use of words. I feel much the same. Here I sat, 32 barely making enough time to sleep from insane work schedules, failing at anything that required care and attention. I wouldn’t doubt that if I were to buy a houseplant the poor thing would die, not from my lack of a green thumb, but my lack of love to give to it.

After rereading Jamie’s message and began to compose my reply. I caught myself giggling like a schoolgirl, and had to make an effort not to let the butterflies fly away with my words.

Dear Jamie,

Please, just call me Claire.

I understand when you said that work seems to be your entire life. I too am guilty of that very action. My lack of social and romantic life led to my best friend signed me up for this app on my birthday of all days. Sometimes I wonder where time has gone and how at 32, I feel as though I’ve simultaneously been around for much longer and not long enough to know what I’m doing. Have you ever felt as though your life passes you by no matter how hard you try to stop and take a moment to savor it? At first I was wary of even starting this app, and now I don’t want my life to fly by any more than it has without my say so. I want to savor every moment, and sometimes that means taking a risk, like saying hello to a handsome stranger.

I too, look forward to getting to know you, Jamie.

Claire

[margsld]

Outlander Epi 3.03 Recap

All Debts Paid like a good, Red-Coated Lannister should.

As always we salute the writer of each episode. This magical one is written by the legendary Exec Producer, Photographer, Location Scout and super fan - Matthew B Roberts. *raises glass

Boston, 1956. Claire and Frank really should have learned not to have breakfast together by now.  Sure Frank is the cook this time and damn, I can almost smell that bacon-grease fried bread but all this white fashion and happy conversation is giving me indigestion. Far from book Frank, TV Frank is a cheater! GASP But he’s discreet. Oh, that makes it better then...NOT.

Meanwhile in Sunny Northern Scotland, it’s 1755 at Ardsmuir Prison.  Harry Quarry aka Old Geezer, is giving a dashing Lord John Grey (SWOON & SQUEE for Oz actor David Berry) the 10 schilling tour of his new Govenor-ing responsibilities.  Whisky is the only hightlight of being banished to the Northern-most post. Slainte! Short of hanging Lord John, this is hell itself especially since Kilts were banished post-Culloden.  Goodbye knee-porn. *reaches for a tissue

They arrive in Ardsmuir’s happy place, the yard bursting with grinning prisoners, leaping about in the sunshine. Or not. Old Geezer points out the fully clothed (drats)  Red Jamie aka Hooligan of the Highlands, who has plagued Lord John’s conscience since their last meeting. Lord John is too swoony to speak. There he was, standing right there in the shadows of the yard looking like the artful Dodger himself.  Any shiftier looking and he’d swing out an arm, only for a ladder of fake Rolex’s to appear for a fiver each.

Harry tells Lord John that he had supper with Mr Fraser, aka Mac Dubh weekly because who wouldn’t, ye fool.  Also, the other prisoners saw him as their leader and it kept the prison pleasant. That and 400 juicy rats.  Mac Dubh was not to be trusted though and was trussed up like a xmas ham in chains. Lord John declares he’ll not dine with that....I think he’s going to say ‘Spunk Rat’ here but then realises Harry would hear him and it could get awkward.  Instead, he ops for ‘Prisoner’ and we carry on.   

When it’s time to clinker back to his luxurious cell, Jamie tinkles like xmas bell until he finds a little perch. A nasty cough is heard from behind him and then a familiar voice asks if he’s met the new governer?  For the love of all things grumpy, it’s Murtagh!  Hooray! He’s forgotten to brush his teeth since Claire left and rats are eating him alive but more concerning to Dr Jamie is his cough. 

Forget where Murtagh’s been for the last umpteen years, we want to hear all about the new fella....  Jamie says he’s young, scairce more‘n a bairn which translates to.... well.... young.  Prison obviously makes you a bit gay because Jamie then notes his carriage *cough, his square shoulders then talks about his arse.  No wait, he has a ramrod up his arse.  This translates to 'educated and posh'.

Jamie is invited to chat with Lord John in his quarters, as Hazza Quazza suggested.  A rat crawls out of the dark and Lord John is mortified.  He demands a cat chase the fat rat until it’s splat.  No time for Dr Zeuss Jamie says, the cats would stop the gourmet cooking classes in the cells. Then what would bored prisoners do? 

Claire has finally graduated from Medical school and has a party at the house.  Bree is taking photos to mark the occasion and neglects to put herself in a picture.  Good parenting.  Frank is eager for them all to leave for their dinner reservations. Not suspicious at all, Frank.  Wasn’t he M16? Oopsey, Claire finds a pretty blonde lady on the doorstep.  Double oopsey, Frank didn’t mean to have his mistress turn up early.  So busted.  Claire decides its suddenly quite normal to go to reservations an hour early and clears the party goers out toot-sweet while Frank and little Miss Early-pants stand aside pretending they are decorative palms. Oh Frank.

The hills are alive with the sound of a ranting madman in Scotland.  Red coats find a hobo wandering near the coast and take him into custody. Duncan Kerr rants about Gold and curses so of course the Red coats get excited.  Lord John, smelling his golden ticket back to civilisation, hurries to Jamie to make a deal.  He’ll lose the Emo jewellery if he translates the madman’s Gailidgh and French ramblings. It's a deal.

Frank comes home from his hot date with Candy, errh, Mandy or is it Sandy and Claire is waiting for him.  He’s visibly drunk and she’s visibly ready to insert his British-issue ramrod! Claire accuses him of humiliating her in front of her colleagues.  Frank slurs ditto and that her face is like glass; no one at his work believes in their sham marriage anyway.  Claire gets snippy about his girlfriend and Frank says Sandy is no harlot, she has a PHD in linguistics.  Who saw that coming?    PS I want that bar!  He poors another drink because we all know you win arguments when you are drunker!  She asks if they’ve done the horizontal tango in their bedroom and Frank lashes back with a stinging “I think our bedroom is too crowded already”. Ouch Claire.  That’s a fine serving of karma pie you’ve just choked on.

It’s cheery days over at Ardsmuir resort too.  Jamie is trying to work out what the near-dead Duncan is raving about.  He is very interested when Duncan mentions the McKenzie, Ellen marrying silkies and a White Witch.  I fear he’s stumbled across some cocaine hustler but he insists that the Gold is cursed and the white witch will come for Jamie.  Spooked af.  Jamie tells the eavesdropping Lord John that Duncan was not making much sense.  John smells a rat and this time its a big red, unshaven Scottish rat not telling the truth.  He threatens to get it out of Jamie but Jamie just snorts.  Umm been there, done that, bought the Black Jack Tshirt already, Lord John.

Bree turns 16 and it’s evident Claire and Frank are no longer on the same page. 

Murtagh is getting more Dr Jamie medicine.  Does anyone else think perhaps it’s Jamie’s healing skills causing them all to be sick in the first place?  Murtagh is curious about Duncan Kerr’s news and when he hears of the story including a White Witch, he launches into some purvey memory about Claire and how often he thinks of her.  It’s kinda creepy but hey, prison. What is in that tea, Jamie?

 Lord John summons Jamie for supper.  Jamie decides that’s a great time to suggest the Governor let the men roam the moors and set traps so they can catch their own meat, since the British are too stingy.  At first Lord John thinks he’s pulling his leg but then Jamie explains it's another rat under the table. The prisoners can set their traps while out Peat collecting.  Oh well that’s alright then! They have supper together and Lord John explains the lack of intelligence of a pheasant but it’s good with red wine sauce.  Jamie takes a bite and instantly has a foodgasm. 

Later, back at story time in his cell, Fraser decides sweet-talking the cellmates to sleep with his tales of buttery rolls, is a kindness.  He's gone saft in the heid. If it was me sharing a cell and missing the good food, I’d tear him limb from limb.  Or lick him. A lot.

Lord John now surely needs anxiety medication, after Jamie jumps him while out taking a leak beyond the prison walls.  Jamie had escaped from the Peat Gang a few days earlier and now had returned.  Jamie confronts Lord John about their history and tries to insight him to kill him as he promised the first time they met.  John refuses to kill an unarmed man and they share a look. It's love blossoming.

They wander the nearby field shooting the breeze, as you do. John listens carefully as Jamie reveals why he had to go see if Claire was the white witch, Duncan was raving about.  And of the gold?  Jamie says he found an empty box with one jewel remaining and hands Lord John a perfectly cut sapphire. They are now BFFs.

Quick bounce back to Bree graduating in 1966 from high school. Claire chooses to wear white again. I’m sensing a pattern here.

In Ardsmuir, Lord John refuses to deny his fave prisoner’s requests.  Who can say no to that big red lion.  Lord John gets Murtagh a proper doctor.  Jamie can stop collecting Watercress now and Murtagh is vera grateful.

Jamie is playing chess with Lord John and they bond over wicked moves and their lost loves.  John confesses to losing his boyfiend at Culloden and Jamie tells John that his wife was called something starting with C. Umm, yeah, that’s it Claire.  She loved festering boils like no other.  John is impressed and jealous all at once.  More reminiscing ensues about their first meeting.... “If you found a 16 year old shitting himself a worthy opponent Mr Fraser, then it’s no wonder the highland army was defeated”.  Nah, it was the stupid bravery that impressed him mostly.  Is John blushing?  They bond like super glue to a shoe and things are going rosy.  They talk of that fun time he thought they were raping Claire too - oh the scallywags. 

Things get melancholy because alcohol. These two girls can’t handle their plonk and Lord John goes in for a raunchy hand caress.  Jamie suddenly realises he’s on the menu and tells John to take his hand off him or he’ll replace his ramrod with his sword.  John realises he’s just made a mammoth mistake and things are more tense than a rat in a prison cell before lunch time.  Jamie leaves in disgust and Lord John sheds a tear, for he needed new pants again. *squelch

Frank tells Claire he wants to move to England and take Bree now that she’s 18. She could go to Oxford while he works at Cambridge and Sandy, Mandy & Candy can come be his proper wife/wives.  Claire tells him no frikkin way. Bree is hers and he can’t take her.  He reminds Claire that every time she looks at Bree she sees Jamie and he just wants to live with a wife who loves him.  Fair point.  Insert shit storm and tears here.  He storms off out the door with his keys just as the phone rings.  Claire is called to the hospital for surgery. 

Ardsmuir is closing as it’s too comfy now for prisoners and the next garrison want to move in.  They insist they have a better recipe for Rat stew.  Jamie is pulled out of a line up away from Murtagh and is told he is being moved elsewhere.  The others will be indentured and sent to the colonies (America).  It’s a hideous moment where we are all waiting for Jamie to start struggling and shouting and trying to get back to Murtagh before they are separated by a whole ocean but it doesn’t happen. They can only exchange manly looks. Snow is falling as Jamie is tied to Lord John on a horse and is forced to walk for days.  There is little chit chat during their journey.  Lord John says they’ll have to talk eventually.  Jamie is still sulking about Murtagh but Lord John says they'll only be slaves for 14 years.  No biggy.

They eventually stop on a barren hill overlooking an extremely large estate. Ok it’s more of a palace but it’s home for now.  Helwater Estate is owned by the Dunsany’s and Lord John has arranged for Jamie to live there for now.  He explains it really is the best he could do for Jamie, short of a pardon and he should be totes grateful.  They kiss and make up and stride off into the sunset. 

Claire is soothing a patient’s stressed relative when she sees Dr Joe coming with his serious face. This can’t be good.  It’s Frank!  Nooooooooooooo!   There’s been a car accident.  Well, stick a fork in me I am done as all the feels are happening on my face.  Damn onions. 

Claire races to the morgue to see that he is indeed dead. As she enters the room, my heart shatters with hers.  Frank’s face is without a scratch and so surely he’ll pop up in a minute like Jon Snow.  Give it a minute...... ok, one more minute..... Nope. *ugly crying  She finds his dead neck most magnetic and goes in for a whiff or a kiss, we aren’t sure.  It’s a bit weird.  Claire confesses to his nearby spirit that she really did love him *eyeroll and that he was her first love. Nawwww. *tears again.  Claire slowly leans in for a final kiss and a tear rolls down her face onto Frank’s nose.  Gahh!  Too blurry to type more..... 

The End.