#we have some serious fash shit happening up here

[mybeautifuldecay]

Private Tutor. Chapter Ten; I had to face the who am I, who is she, what did I do.

I don’t even know what happened over the last few days, but suddenly it’s Sunday and I’m sat on my mum’s sofa with her dog snoring next to me and I’ve finally got this chapter FINISHED. 

Note that there’s NSFW ahead - another reason that it took so long. I haven’t written smut in so long that my brain just imploded as I wrote this. Not only that, there are so many fabulous writers out there that (in the last couple of days) wrote and published some IMMENSE Jamie and Claire intimacy that I had an insecure moment. Or maybe more than that. 

Massive thanks to @suhailauniverse for diving into it and giving me the courage to finally finish this chapter, and to @gotham-ruaidh for everything Outlander. 

Enjoy <3

You can read other parts: HERE.

Rivulets of water ran down Claire’s spine, the hot spray from the shower cleansing every inch of her as she placed her forehead lightly against the glass, her thoughts half focused on the circular motions Jamie’s hands were making as they massaged soap into the flesh of her lower back.

The memory of how they’d reached this point distracted her slightly as she lost herself to Jamie’s intimate caress. He had led her to his bedroom, pointing out the ensuite before turning on his heel and leaving her to disrobe. But as her wet clothes hit the floor, a small flourish of confidence bloomed within Claire. She wanted Jamie to see her. She wanted what she’d had in her dream - his hands gently placed on her bare skin. So she’d called him in and with her back to him and, glancing over her shoulder, she had asked him to accompany her in the shower.

Now, her hands rested either side of her head as she evened out her breathing, letting her legs spread as far as she could go without slipping on the plastic shower floor. Goosebumps covered her from head to toe. She was warm, overheated even, but the simple action of being touched with such reverence caused her heart rate to increase and her skin to prickle with desire.

“These dimples,�� Jamie whispered, his lips encasing Claire’s earlobe as he nipped her there, his fingers dancing over the top of her arse as he shifted himself closer, “ye’ve these two beautiful dimples, one just above each cheek. Perfect.” He sighed, kissing along her neck, lapping up the water as his right hand slid around her hip, his fingers drawing subtle patterns against her as he worked his way across as much of her as he could reach.

She wanted to turn; spin herself around and thrust herself against him so that he had no choice but to succumb...but she didn’t. Desire held her prisoner as she closed her eyes and waited for him. She wanted him to take his time, wanted him to investigate each mole, each freckle...each rise and fall of her so that he’d the best possible picture of her whole being...then, and only then, did she want him to consume her whole.

“Mhmm…” she managed to mumble, her knees shivering in anticipation as his moist fingers skipped across her hip bone and down. Lower. Lower still...until the wet hair that lay delicately between her legs tickled the sensitive pads of his fingertips.

“I want to see yer face, Claire,” Jamie panted, his fingers dancing leisurely over the heated flesh between her thighs.

Claire couldn’t talk. Her words stolen by Jamie’s agile motions as she writhed against him. Instead she nodded and waited for his hands to still so that she could turn and lean her back on the warm glass that encased them. Steam swirled around the small glass shower cubicle as Jamie bent to kiss her, his wet lips tasting faintly of the citronella soap he’d used to wash them both before things had taken a more amorous turn. It was sweet, tart and fragrant and the flavour of it sent tingles along her tongue.

A loud squeak echoed around them as Claire tried to angle her hips in any creative way she could manage, her arse and feet slipping all at the same time as Jamie reached to catch her. “They make this look much easier on the tele, don’t they?” She whispered, her arms wrapping around Jamie’s middle as he pressed firmly against her.  

“Aye, but it is much easier when it’s false.” He chuckled as he ran his lips along the long column of her exposed throat. “It’s much harder when it’s real and ye want one another like there’s nothing more important in the world.”

“Is that how it is for you?”

“Aye. It has been since the moment I met you. How about you? Do you want me?”

“Christ yes.” She gasped pulling him forward with such force that they both half collapsed with the motion of it, the slippery shower floor causing Jamie’s feet to slide from beneath him as he held Claire against his chest.

“Shit!” They both yelled in unison before falling into a heap of giggles, their bodies gently sliding into the basin, their limbs tangled as they sat with the water still surrounding them in the cubicle.

“Yer trying to cause me actual bodily harm aren’t ye sassenach?” Jamie jested, crawling onto his knees as he parted Claire’s in order to get close to her again.

Being a large man, Jamie’s broad shoulders, long legs and chest only just fit and sitting as they were was quite an uncomfortable affair. “Nah.” Claire replied, inspecting their current situation with some interest. “I like you too much for that. But I do think we need to get out of this shower before we both end up in A&E and I, for one, would hate to have explain that.”

Standing, his legs half sliding beneath him as he did so, Jamie steadied himself before offering his hand out. “So then, Claire,” he said quietly, his fingers pointed in her direction, “would ye care to join me in my bed?”

“Bed huh?” She asked, taking his hand and placing her palm flat against the glass of the shower as she stood, naked, beside him trying to contain her easy laughter at their predicament. “Are you asking me to *sleep* with you Jamie? Or is it something more...libidinous?”

“Fuck, Claire,” he cursed, breathing in a deep breath as he pushed the door to the cubicle open, bringing her combined hands up to his lips as they both exited carefully, “I dinna think I could have ye that close and not want you.”

“This is different, isn’t it?” She ventured, the words leaving her lips in a semi-reverent whisper as she followed Jamie back into the bedroom, him leading her by the hand -both still nude- as the cooler air of the space circled around them. She could still hear the faint patter of the water against the shower room glass, Jamie having forgotten to turn off the device in his haste to have them both in a more comfortable position but it was soothing so she chose not to mention it in the moment. “Us.”

“Aye. Different.”

“You said you felt this as soon as we met, how did you know?” She spoke with quiet investment, the words he’d spoken not long ago had ignited something similar within her and she’d noted that when they had met, not only had she been interested in the medical knowledge that he held, but also by the prospect of getting to know him personally. There was a draw there, something magnetic and unknown. A pull that would not be ignored.

“I dinna ken exactly,” Jamie began, sitting on the bed and drawing Claire between his legs as he rubbed the skin on the back of her hands delicately, “ye were just there...in front of me, wi’ yer captivating whisky eyes and a small shy smile on yer face - asking me about doctoring like ye belonged in an operating suite wi’out the qualifications and I just couldna help myself. Ye bewitched me, lass. I told my mam the very same day, aye? That I’d found the lassie I was going to marry.”

“I bet she thought you’d gone mad.”

“Nah.” Reaching out, Jamie ran his hand softly along the back of Claire’s thigh, using his large palm to cup one cheek as he leaned closer to her crotch and inhaled, kissing her hips, one side at a time. “She kent verra well that I was serious.”

“I don’t think I realised how much I’d fallen for you until I started dreaming about you. I missed you terribly.” she muttered, closing her eyes languidly. She didn’t move, though she wanted to, didn’t shift her feet. Instead she was focused on Jamie, every motion he made, every single skim that his hands made across her bottom as he tried to coax her to sit astride his lap. “When I was in Oxford, sat across the dinner table from Nora as she eyeballed me, all I could think about was when I’d get to come back home and see you. But I hadn’t figured out how neatly you’d slotted into my life until I physically started to ache for you.”

“Ach,” he mumbled against her stomach, his tongue tasting the fine sprinklings of water left on her skin, “that’s why it’s different. I think we were made for each other, sassenach, you and I.”

Finally yielding to Jamie’s gentle cajoling, Claire let her knees sink onto the bed, one leg sitting adeptly either side of his hips as she fought with herself. If they did this, if she wrapped her fingers around Jamie’s hair. If she pulled his head back, kissed his lips -hard- and pushed her hips forwards until the two seperate parts of themselves became one. Then she’d have to face this new part of her. She’d have to face who she was. What she’d done. Who she would become.

Watching the indecision pass across her face, Jamie bent his head backwards, sat up straighter on the bed and kissed each one of her cheeks, his soft mouth brushing against her heated flesh. “I’m here - no matter whether we continue or stop this now. Dinna fash, lass.” Raising his hand up -his left still supporting her arse as she hovered over him- he let his palm rest just above her heart so that the tiny hairs rose as if reaching out for him. “Ye can tell me to stop and I will.”

“No, I can’t.” She whispered, her breathing laboured as her heart missed a beat; the thought of stepping back, pulling her damp clothes back and and going back into the world without pressing his cock against her -feeling him so damn close that she could feel the pulse of him deep inside her- made her stomach twist painfully. “I don’t want to stop, not now.”

Jamie laughed, an almost tiny happy sigh that was just loud enough for Claire to discern as pleasure. “I’m glad.” He said, his hand sliding down to cup her breast in a single fluid motion. “I thought maybe ye’d seen me wi’ no clothes on and suddenly changed yer mind.”

“Gosh no.” She returned quickly. “It’s taking all that I have to stay where I am right now and not take you where you sit.”

“Do it.” He begged his voice dropping a few octaves as he squeezed her arse and her breast simultaneously. “Do it now and don’t be gentle.”

Thrusting her hips forward without a second thought, Claire pressed Jamie backwards until his back hit the soft mattress and her hips rested solidly against his. Dragging in a loud breath, she gasped at the feeling, her hands shaking as they held her up -one hand either side of Jamie’s head, fingers spread where they lay on the bed linens.

Carnal lust ricocheted though her as she held herself steady before moving her hips gently. Her knees quivered ever so slightly, her thighs clenching in the most delicious way as she rocked to and fro, her whole body alight from head to toe.

“I love ye, Claire.” Jamie blurted out, his hands gripping her waist, his fingers digging into her sides as he tried to calm himself. “I canna stop myself. Christ. Harder.” He moaned, half tempted to roll them over as his stomach clenched, pure animalistic need racing from the pads of his feet, along his legs and up his thighs before coming to rest in the base of his belly.

Leaning forwards, Claire let her breasts brush along Jamie’s chest, the fine hairs there tickling her nipples as she revelled in each and every sensation. It had never been like this before. Sex was always perfunctory for her. A necessary deed that assisted in the growth of their family and hardly ever for pleasure. If she had wanted to experience the heady feeling that she’d found explained in some rather descriptive books she’d found under her mother’s bed as a teenager - then she’d had to do it herself.

But not here.

Not like this.

Letting her mouth fall open, Claire tilted her head forward to nip and Jamie’s bottom lip before rising over him once more.

“Do you feel that?” Jamie asked, his fingers finding the pulse point that beat out a solid rhythm beneath the skin of her neck as she slowed her movements and increased the pace of her breathing.

“Yes.” Claire cried out, unable to contain herself, the sound of him declaring his love for her reverberating around her head as she pushed herself closer and closer, over and over again. “Say it again, please, Jamie.”

“I love you. I do.”

“Jesus.” She groaned, the ringing in her ears increasing exponentially as lust, desire and need swirled around her, her sight blurring as she tried to open her eyes to look down on Jamie as he supported her whole weight in his capable hands. Darkness crept in, cloudiness seeping into the corners of her peripheral vision as her breathing became fast and stunted. Her heart pounded mercilessly in her chest, the increased steady throb of it causing her palms to sweat as she struggled to pull in enough air to keep herself upright.

“I love ye so much that I want to see you let go, Claire. Now. Please.” Jamie whispered lowly, his hips rising to meet hers before falling back against the bed and repeating the motion.

“Yes.” She moaned in return, her head flopping against his shoulder as she thrust again, her wet curls bouncing against him and sending droplets of moisture along his collarbone. Her hips stilled for just a second before sliding effectively against his groin softly once, twice, three times more. “Fuck. Jamie, yes.”

Coherence came back to her slowly, the recognition that she was still sat above Jamie, his cock hard and heavy inside her as he waited -shakily but patiently- until she opened her eyes to look at him with clarity behind her irises. “It’s never been that way before.”

“Ye flatter me, Claire.” Jamie chuckled, his hands running up and down her sensitive sides as he fought to keep his own hips still. “But I think we’re just good together, aye? Our bodies ken one another wi’out needing a proper introduction. We just know how to exist. Together.” He was hanging on by the thinnest of threads, his own orgasm hovering perilously close as he concentrated on the feel of Claire surrounding him. Her muscles still held him tight and every tiny spasm pushed him closer to the edge.

“It’s your turn.” Claire said, noticing his delicate state. “You’re close, let go too.”

“Aye.” He replied, unable to say any more as he held her hips steady and kept eye contact as he moved, whisky on sea-blue, succumbing to his own personal abyss in an instant.

--

Lying with her damp hair splayed across Jamie’s pillows, Claire turned, her hand raised as she tried to seek out the warmth of him in the dim morning light.

“I’m here, lass.” He whispered, taking her palm against his and revelling in the closeness of her as he curled up behind her. One of his legs slipped through hers, their bare skin sliding effortlessly against one another as his groin came into contact with her arse.

“More…please, Jamie.” She sighed, her hand bringing his around her waist as she guided him upwards before kissing each one of his fingers dozily. “Closer. I need you closer.”

“Aye, I ken, Claire.” He returned slowly pushing himself more fully against her so that there wasn’t a hairsbreadth between her back and his front. Some invisible force had kept them close for the night and it was impossible to deny as the sun rose and basked them in the sort of pre-dawn glow that would disappear come mid-morning when the clouds rolled in. “I need more too - so much more that I dinna think it’s physically possible.”

“It doesn’t feel wrong, does it?” She said sounding surprised.

“That’s because it isn’t, Claire.”

“Do we have to move?”

“Never.” He returned without a second thought. “I mean, I have to go back to uni after the weekend, but we dinna have to move right now, aye?” He joked kissing along her neck as he spoke, smiling sleepily as he watched her shudder, his breathing tickling her as it fanned across her flesh.

“A weekend wrapped up beside you sounds perfectly acceptable to me.”

“Good,” Jamie sighed happily, “because I dinna plan on letting you go so soon.”

“Good,” she repeated, “because I don’t plan on leaving.”

[mymelodyheart]

Forget Me Not Chapter 21 ~Family Intervention~

Willie made his way out of the manor house, leaving Jamie and Ian in the kitchen, the news of his brother and Claire's break-up still whirling around in his head. In a hot flare of guilt and shame, his heart rejoiced, but the nagging voice of reason is telling him to shove those hopes away. Even if Jamie and Claire never got back together, which he thought was highly unlikely, pursuing Claire would be an act of betrayal. Moving on seemed to be the only logical option, but he kept asking himself if he owed it to himself to reveal his true feelings.  Off-limits!  The mantra had been reprised regularly in his consciousness, yet felt like meaningless rules made for children meant to be broken. 

He was about to get into his car when he heard a sound behind him.

"Willie, wait a sec!"

Willie craned his neck around and saw Jenny coming down the steps of the house, a furrow creasing her forehead. She was dressed in her fiance's sweater, baggy black jeans and ankle boots, disguising her willowy form. Her jet black hair was pulled back from her face in a messy bun. She had always reminded him of a pixie, with her pointed chin, too large blue eyes and petite build. Hidden beneath the diminutive figure, was inner strength, no-nonsense attitude and larger than life character which he admired but threw other people off.

"Ye're no' going to apologise for that wee outburst in there, are ye?" he joked.

She burst out laughing, taking a few steps towards him to close the distance. "Of course not. I meant what I said earlier. Ye lads needed a bit of reality check and reminding that you don't need to behave like Neanderthals to show ye care."

He grinned. "Aye, I suppose we do," he said, leaning down to kiss the top of Jenny's head. "And it's a brother's responsibility to annoy their sisters. And it seems I am still capable of doing that."

"Listen, I'm not here to talk about that." Her eyes turned serious. "Should I be worried about ye? I've seen the way ye looked at Claire, and I ken the look. I've been noticing for some time."

He shifted his weight and stared at the view above his sister's head, trying to find the right words. It was useless denying it to Jenny, who was too perceptive for her own good. "Nothing to talk about. It is what it is, and there's nothing to worry. I don't have any plans for Claire."

"Aye, I kinda expected ye'd say that," she sighed. "But, ye're hovering, like ye're waiting for something ...like ye're waiting for fate to intervene. Ye have to decide,  bràthair.  Either ye forget all about it and get on with life, or ye do yersel' a favour and tell Claire exactly how ye feel. It's the only way to move on. I dinna like the way ye're stuck in some sort of limbo. At least when ye finally do something about it, there'll be no what-ifs in the future."

"I've decided to keep my mouth shut."

"Weel, that may be the case, but it doesn't look like ye're moving on."

He narrowed his gaze. "What exactly are ye worried about?"

"I'm worried ye'll miss opportunities to be happy."

The words fell between them and lay there like massive boulders that refused to budge. Willie's throat clenched with familiar guilt, but he ignored it, making sure to keep his voice firm. "Aye, I need to get my shit together, but dinna fash. Whatever this feeling I have for Claire, it's just infatuation, and I'm not shutting out any possibilities of finding my own happiness. If it makes ye happy, I've asked Geillis to go out on a dinner date with me this weekend."

She seemed to mull over his words to catch the sincerity in his tone and intention. "Alright, I suppose that's a start."

"Mmm, ye don't sound convince."

"It's just that it's been years since I've seen ye in a serious relationship. Or any at all."

The corner of his lip lifted in amusement. Not many people asked direct questions or say it like it is like his sister. His muscles relaxed a bit, glad for her directness. "I've been busy, and there hasn't been anyone that turned my head."

"Now why don't I believe that?" she asked softly, tilting her head to take a better look at him. "Yer head can't be turned because the object of yer affection is sitting right under yer nose. But Claire loves Jamie, and even a blind man can see that. Tell Claire how ye feel, and maybe only then when ye hear it straight from the horse's mouth, ye can truly move on."

He pondered for a while before answering. "No. I ken what ye're trying to say, and I'm alright with it. But telling Claire will only create unnecessary problems. It's better this way. But I'm glad now ye spoke to me because ye just voiced what I already know. Dinna fash though ...I'm braw."

Her face softened. "Good. But now is a good time to begin easing yer way back into the dating game." Then her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Who knows, something might come out of that date with Geillis. I like her. She's a great lass and has her eyes on ye."

He groaned, but she only shot him a wink as she disappeared back into the house. Typical of Jenny - she never sugar-coated anything when she wanted to make a point.

Willie lifted his face to the early morning sun, thinking about why he'd stayed and worked in Italy after finishing his culinary school. The reason was to be closer to Claire. But to be far enough to run away from what he felt for her. Willie never revealed his feelings because deep down, there was always this silent understanding she was Jamie's girl. So now he's back home, and he'd come full circle, back to the place where it all started, trying to put the pieces of his life together.  How bloody ironic!

..........

Claire grabbed her café americano from the Starbuck's counter and squeezed herself into a corner table. She spoke into the wireless earpiece. "Hey, da. Just letting you know I've arrived in London. I have a couple of hours to kill before I head for the trade show. Is there anything else you want me to do while I'm here?"

She winced at the blistering array of profanity coming from Murtagh in the background, feeling sorry for the service and kitchen staff. Why did kitchen chefs have the worst tempers of all?

Claire took a sip of her coffee and grimaced. This was her fifth since leaving Lallybroch, and somehow, as the day went on, the taste was beginning to lose its appeal. 

Brian let out a sharp intake of breath, most probably because of whatever commotion was happening in the kitchen. She silently hoped it had nothing to do with the list of instructions she left behind for Murtagh before leaving the hotel. "No,  leannan.  Just make sure ye get as many brochures and pictures from the list of exhibitors that I wrote down. And enquire about the app solutions. Willie is insistent we have a hotel app as part of our marketing strategy."

"Got that! If ma needs anything in London, tell her to let me know. I'll be heading for Oxford tomorrow morning to lay some flowers for uncle Lamb, and if everything goes well, I should be home tomorrow night."

"I'll let yer ma know ...and Claire ..."

A reluctance in Brian's voice rang in her ears. On impulse, she tried another sip of her coffee before pushing it away. "Oh, another thing, da ... in case I'm late checking in tonight, I'm meeting an old school friend for dinner in some bistro in Nottingham Hill. His name is Frank. You know, Jamie's old friend."

"Aye, that's alright." He paused in between, clearing his throat. "Listen ...this with Jamie, I've heard all about it. Ye know that everything will sort itself out, aye? Just give it a bit of time. It hasn't been easy on both of ye or any of us. The opening of the hotel and work piling up hasn't really given anyone a chance to wrap their head with what happened."

Holding back a sigh, she thought of Jamie's reaction that morning. He hadn't been impressed with her sudden trip to London, and already, he seemed to be regretting his decision to take a break from their relationship. On the plane trip, she had thought long and hard about their situation, and came to the conclusion that maybe it was what they both needed. Lately, they hadn't been good for one another.

Claire tamped down the urge to cry, feeling suddenly emotional. It was totally out of her character. "I know, da. Maybe it's for the best that Jamie and I take some time off. I've been overly sensitive lately, and being a wreck around him is not helping us at all. Maybe the lack of sleep has thrown me off balance. But don't worry. Like what you said, it will sort itself out."

There was a moment of silence on the other end. "Claire, are ye alright? Maybe ye should take a few days off. Ellen told me ye've been pushing yersel' hard lately. I don't want ye falling ill."

Homesickness squeezed at her heart. All she wanted at that very moment was to be in her own bed and sleep for a whole week. She felt exhausted all of a sudden. "I must admit I'm tired, but a solid eight-hour sleep should do the trick. Maybe I'll take a nap before going to the trade show."

"Alright sweetheart. I'll let ye go. Please, do take care, and I'll speak to ye soon."

"Thanks, da, and I love you." She wanted to prolong their conversation. It had been ages since they had a heart to heart talk. But it wasn't the time and the place. 

"I love ye too."

She tapped the button and ended the call, resisting the urge to message Jamie. Maybe tonight when her head was a bit clearer, and she didn't feel like on the verge of tears. There was work to be done, and she needed all of the energy she could muster to focus.

But that night after dinner with Frank, fatigue got the better of her. The moment she sat down in the antique armchair in her room, she fell into a restless sleep full of nightmares. She woke up at two am in the morning, and after dragging herself from the chair, changing into Jamie's shirt and going to bed, she tossed and turned for the rest of the night, unable to sleep until the sun came up.

.........

It had been over three weeks, and Claire hadn't called nor texted. Not that Jamie expected she would, after all, it was him who suggested taking a break from their relationship. But oh how he lived in hope to catch a glimpse of her or hear her voice. Although she had some reading materials, treats and single-line notes that said I hope you're well sent over to him, it didn't ease the sinking feeling that he had pushed her away for good.

Everyone took turns visiting him, except the person that mattered most, and her absence made the manor house seemed too big and empty. Even if visitors, like staff from the hotel and old friends like Frank bearing gifts and best wishes regularly came, none of it mattered, when all he could think of was Claire.

There were stories that she was working around the clock and sometimes she stayed in the hotel until early hours in the morning when there were banquets and special events held. And Willie rarely came home, staying at Claire's and Geillis house to be nearer to the workplace. Sometimes Jamie couldn't help but wonder if his brother was taking advantage of their situation and was spending more time with her.  No!    His brother would never do that.   Or would he?  After all, on paper, Claire was single.

One late evening he managed to get hold of her when he called, and it was a good thing as she had dozed off in her office. She had muttered sleepily and briefly about needing to go to bed, so he had left it at that, hoping she would call the following day. But she never did. It was the last time they had spoken, and her voice still echoed in his ears, the throaty, husky drawl she had when woken from a sleep. Although worried for her health, he was so proud of her achievements at work. In only a matter of weeks, the hotel was already fully booked for every weekend that coming summer as a venue for weddings, conferences and other special functions. Claire was relentless in amping up the hotel's social media presence and promoting their town as a perfect highland destination. Everyone in the family had been on her case to slow down, but all they got in response was reassurances that she was fine.

That day, he spent most of the afternoon, pushing himself to walk, trying the treadmill on a slow mode and doing pull-up exercises until his therapist firmly told him to stop. Adrenaline bubbled in his veins like a frothy pint of beer, but he knew if he over-did it, he could do more harm than good to himself. Frustrated, he longed to hear Claire's voice and his fingers itched to call her. He had tried calling a few times, but every time he got hold of her, either she was busy with work, in the middle of something, or unable to answer at all.

Limbs still tingling from the massage he got from his therapist, he was grateful for any feelings he had around his thighs even if it meant pain and discomfort that kept him awake at night. Sat in the lounge staring at the phone in one hand and nursing a tumbler of whisky in the other, he mentally debated whether to call Claire or not, for the umpteenth time.

"That phone will combust if ye stare at it long enough."

He looked up and saw his sister stood in front of him, studying his face. "Hey, what's up?"

As if reading his mind, she smiled at him. "I was at the hotel earlier. Claire was really busy in case ye're wondering. She hardly had time to stop and talk. She was busy discussing menus with wedding clients." 

"Aye, I've heard. Looks like the hotel and restaurant are in good hands." His pride for Claire multiplied. She had worked hard for their family's legacy, giving it her all. He thought of her at the opening party, surrounded by crowds, champagne and excitement, and she handled it like she had been doing it all her life. She was indeed one of them - a Fraser through and through and how he would love to give her his name and make it official. Their problem was never about her. It was always about him. 

Jenny got comfortable in the battered armchair opposite him and winked. "But I managed to speak to her for a few seconds. I invited her to come for dinner tomorrow night."

Jamie caught the twinkle in her eyes. "Are ye interfering Jenny? I don't want ye forcing Claire to come here when she doesn't feel like seeing me." Despite his mild irritation with his sister, he couldn't help but feel hopeful. 

"Don't be ridiculous." She reached out for the tumbler he was holding and took a sip of his whisky. "I couldn't force Claire to do anything even if I wanted to."

"Weel, what is it? Is she coming or no'? What did she say?"

Jenny grinned mischievously. "She said she would love to come. Anyway, the wheelchair shouldn't have stopped ye from going to see her ye know. Anyone of us was willing to take ye wherever ye want to go. So what's been stopping ye?"

"Guess ye ken all the answers. So why don't ye solve all my problems?" Jamie asked, irritation coursing through him. "I've realised I can't go on like this. I hate being stuck in this wheelchair. I hate being stuck at home. The longer we're apart, the more likely I'll lose Claire forever. I feel I've let her down in more ways I can imagine and I didn't even realise I've been doing it for some time. All I know is that I love her and I can't live without her. And ye want to know what's stopping me from seeing her? The fact that I may never be right again is not fair on her. So, Jenny, solve that one for me, will ye."

His sister's blue eyes flashed with empathy and an understanding that came from growing side by side. "I wish I could," she said softly. "One thing I do know is what ye've been through was traumatic. Ye are over-thinking things, and ye're having panic attacks. Ye should go easy on yersel'. And ye're not the only one suffering ...Claire is suffering too from the trauma, but she is trying to deal with it the best way she could. She is not avoiding ye because she wants to. She is simply exhausted. Da is already thinking of hiring an assistant for her to ease her workload."

"Christ, that exhaustion has been going on for some time. Maybe Claire ought to see a doctor. Why doesn't she take some extra days off? Surely the hotel isn't going to implode in her absence."

Jenny shrugged. "Tell me about it. She's been suffering from insomnia ever since the shooting, and I guess she's driving herself to exhaustion in the hope it would knock her to sleep. Or maybe, she can't sleep because ye aren't by her side. Have ye ever thought of that?"

He shook his head and groaned. "I don't know. All I know is that I am beginning to understand now how she must have felt when I pushed her away. All these weeks without her and not seeing her, I haven't been able to sleep much either."

His sister smiled and raised the tumbler of whisky in the air. "There ye go. There's yer answer. Claire is yer home. Ye're both at home with each other, but this messy shit with Annalise got in the way. I couldn't understand why ye didn't want to stay at Claire's right from the start, but I guess it's because ye're a numpty. Oh sure, getting back together and living together will throw a lot of challenges along the way, and it's going to suck big time. There will be a lot of therapies and a lot of talks and a lot of compromises, but together, I think ye're stronger. There are endless possibilities, Jamie and with love, both of ye could make it work, as long as ye don't let that stupid pride get in the way."

Emotion choked his throat. "How do ye know Jenny? How can ye sound so sure?"

"Because even though ye don't believe it, ye're an extraordinary lad. Sometimes a real pain in the arse and stubborn as a mule, but whatever ye focus on, ye succeed, and ye conquer. Just like Claire. Ma and da taught us that. It's in our blood that love for home and Claire is yer home. Ye understand?"

Yes, he understood. His sister always shot straight and true, which was precisely what he needed. "Aye, I understand."

Jenny refilled his glass with whisky and got one for herself, and together they drank and watched the fire. Jamie took the time to go over his plans and accept his decision. And finally, he realised his breath was clear, and that awful tightness in his chest was gone because deep down in his guts, he knew the decision was right.

He was going to move heaven and earth to win back Claire.

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Can you pretty please continue the fic where Claire is pregnant when Jamie saves her from BJR in Fort Will. ?

Mod Note: This one, I feel, has been completed. So here - have a similar but different new one

The clink of the chains rattled even in her dreams, but for now they were very real. Claire Randall passed the warm, wet washcloth through her fingers as she passed it to one of the soldiers.

“Thank you, ma’am…” the redcoat mumbled as he washed the grime from one of the prisoners festering wounds, “though I don’t see the need.”

“Well, Officer,” she spat back, in no mood for his dismissive attitude, “if we don’t care for the wounds, they’ll never be fit for the next round of their punishments. Understand?”

Clearing up the detritus from the latest flogging, Claire placed her herbs back in her medicine bag and collected the various blood soaked rags. “Just do as you’re asked, Smith, or I’ll see to it you’re the next one on the whipping post.”

The officer paled, standing a little straighter with fear. He’d forgotten himself in the presence of Mistress Randall before - and he had felt the harsh consequences of her wrath from such an action. The Scottish prisoner beneath him hissed a little as he pressed too hard and Claire turned, her eyes harsh on the soldier as he tried to avoid her gaze.

Claire rolled her eyes and slammed the jail door on her way out, her bag tucked neatly under her arm. She tired of the darkness, of the dank walls and the lingering odor of misery. Despite the constant fear and the hardship, she had learned to survive. It had been hard to adjust with her husband by her side, but with Frank's death had come an increased isolation. His brother, Jack, was not of the same temperament and had brought about an inexplicable harshness. Claire found herself adapting; instead of distancing herself, she adopted his characteristics in order to survive.

Electing to take a hard line with the men under her command, Claire had stricken fear into their heads and hearts. Neither the soldiers nor the prisoners got in her way. Claire prefered it that way. Locked away in her room once more, she shook the aches of her day from her shoulders as she undressed and crawled onto her small cot. Safely hidden, she buried her face into her clean pillow and screamed as loud as she could. Frustration, fear, anger and hopelessness burned heavy in her heart. Claire would cry bloody murder, but not a soul within the prison walls would hear her. It was easier to harden oneself against a dark reality than to drown amidst it.

---

The new day dawned, the sound of the bugle outside pulling Claire from her restless slumber. Steps echoed through the spiral corridor that led to her chambers, causing her to sit up quickly and cover herself. There was only one who dared venture this far, and if he was looking for her it meant trouble.

Putting her best game face on, Claire pulled the blanket up from the bottom of the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders just in time for her door to be flung open.

“You’re needed down in the cells, Claire,” he barked, no room for introduction. “I need him fit as soon as possible, lest he forget the seriousness of his situation.”

“Alright, Jack,” Claire snapped, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she gave him a good hard glare. Though Captain Jack Randall was feared throughout the fort, she wouldn’t let him see her in such a state. She wasn’t a soldier under his command, nor a prisoner at his mercy. “You don’t have to march up here and snap orders at me like a skivvy.”

“Careful, Claire,” he snarled, his eyes serious and downcast as he put a solid grip on the lash that was resting angrily at his hip. "You would do well to remember you are still in my care. Do not think for a moment I would not punish you as I do the men."

Claire sneered, flipping her head to free her forehead of the odd errant curl that had fallen from its binding during sleep. "I'll be down," she answered, ignoring his threat, "when I am dressed." She might have assumed fearlessness, but she wasn't stupid. Baiting him further would cause no end to his taunting.

The door closed without Jack saying another word, leaving Claire to herself once more.

She was down in the bowels of the fort before long, trudging with her shoulders back and her chin jutting out in defiance as she splashed through the mud and filth of the dankest cells in the prison wing. It smelt putrid; the foul wash of death, disease, putrefaction and rotten flesh clinging to the walls with the rain water.

The heavy clink of the lock reverberated along the corridors for a few moments before Claire reached where she had been summoned. Jack appeared from the shadows of the doorway, a look of pleasure plastered across his face as he wiped away fresh blood from his hands. Claire swallowed her disgust hard, nodding her head once at him before walking into the darkened room. Claire hid her disgust as she nodded her head once at him and slid past him into the darkened room.

Facing away from her, huddled in a ball on the shit-stained floor lay a rather broad man. Claire watched as he shivered violently, a coldness seeping through him that no heat could cure. As she stepped closer, the cause revealed itself and for the first time, she felt herself overcome with a blind nausea at the sight. Jack had flayed the lad to the bone, leaving his back in a tattered mess of bleeding flesh. And the malicious bastard had met her grinning at the sight of his handiwork.

“You’re going to need to fetch me bandages, do you hear? Fresh ones, not those mouldy excuses for rags that you usually supply me with!” She whisper-yelled at the commanding soldier on duty, giving him a piercing gaze that made the soldier half cower under it.

Steadying herself, Claire allowed herself to take one long breath, her hand resting over her heart as she tried not to startle the lad. She wasn’t usually affected by the prisoners. Claire was used to Randall’s less than clean technique but this was only the second time she’d seen him employ such a brutal flogging upon another human.

Memories of the first time she’d seen such a mess of human flesh darkened her visions and she had to steady herself for the second time in as many minutes. The last prisoner to experience Randall’s dark side had hung himself only days later. Claire had been privy to all of it, the whole sordid affair and it made her sick to think of it happening all over again.

“Christ what has he done to you?” She whispered, reaching tentatively for his face with her fingertips. “Can you hear me lad?”

"Aye," he answered, his raw voice barely audible even in the silence of the dungeon, "I hear ye..."

“I need to tend to your wounds. That means you’re going to have to stay still lest I catch you. Do you understand?” She said as the guard quietly returned, placing a bucket of water and a pile of rags by the door before leaving once more. Claire hadn’t meant to sound abrupt, this was the one situation where she didn’t wish to come across as unfeeling. For the first time in a long while, Claire was trying to be empathetic.

Unfortunately she missed the mark, unpractised as she was. Instead her words sounded callous and cold and the prisoner at her feet stilled under her words. She sounded just like Randall and he had heard the barbarousness in her tone.

Swallowing back the regret in sounding so brutal, Claire tried to switch off the white noise of thought in her head. She had a duty of care to this man, and care for him she would. Wringing out the cloth in warm water, she began to wipe away some of the residual grime from his skin.

He twitched, though only slightly, as she caught the edge of his flayed skin.

“I’m sorry,” Claire whispered, just a breath on the light breeze running through the cell. Her voice wavered with apology, filled with the absent sensitivity of her earlier words.

“Dinna fash, matron,” he replied, breathing heavier with each word. His fingers splayed across the crumbling mud beneath him, his broken nails digging into the floor suppressing any risk of anguished cries. “J-just get it over wi’.”

Claire’s eyebrow raised in surprise at his tone, but continued on with her task. She had to admit that he was brave - that or terribly stupid.

A sudden loud bang broke her concentration and she dropped the now bloodstained cloth on the floor at her feet.

“Ifrinn…” her patient cursed as he tried to turn, the stemmed areas of bleeding now streaming crimson again.

“Don’t you dare!” She scolded, shifting to see what he was up to. “You’ll tear yourself open doing that. Stay still!”

He continued to ignore her, instead twisting his mangled spine in a desperate attempt to push himself up. “Ye shouldna --”

Before he could finish his sentence the door flung open, a whoosh of air flowing into the room. Claire stood up straight, guarding the man against any intruder. Lit torches entered the room, and holding them were three ragtag, bearded Scots who had somehow acquired redcoat uniforms.

“Jesus...H…” She cursed, seeing the sight before her, “GUARDS!” She cried out, her militant call startling the men huddled in the open doorway in front of her. Clearly they hadn’t expected anyone else to be in the cell with the lad.

The smaller of the men launched himself forwards, intent on silencing Claire as he raised his hands to clamp over her mouth. Claire though was prepared for any dirty tricks they might have otherwise relied upon to get her out of the way. Part of her understood their actions; they were just trying to save their friend after all - but it was too late for sympathy now. Instinct had kicked in, and there was no way she was letting him out of her sight in the state he was in...even if that meant condemning him to more of Randall’s unsavory proclivities.

Reaching under her skirts at an unnerving speed, Claire slid her small dagger from her garter and swiped it towards the rugged Scots with rage in her eyes. She meant business and she wasn’t equipped for failure. “Stay where you are! I know how to use this, don’t mistake my gender for incapability,” she growled, her heels solidly ground into the floor as she readied herself for a fight.

“GUARDS, where ARE you?” She screamed again, rage burning in her veins as she sliced the knife forwards through the air.

“Ye dinna want to do that, mistress,” her would-be assailant warned, his voice low and threatening as he held his hands in mid-air. “Naybody is--”

As if to fall in Claire’s favour a scrambling sound came from above, the soldiers finally responding to her loud calls. She quirked an eyebrow at the collective, a smirk covering her face as she stalked forwards, pushing the disguised Scots backwards. “If I were you,” she whispered, lowly, threat lacing her words, “I’d hightail it out of here before they catch you and you find yourselves at the end of a rope, *ken*?”

The men began muttering to themselves in gaelic and Claire could tell that it wasn’t complementary. She didn’t care, adrenalin coursing through every inch of her as she took one more measured step forwards. Turning quickly on their heels, all three decided to heed her advice and dashed off just before a rabble of half-dressed soldiers skidded into the cell to join her.

“That way!” She yelled, pointing towards the corridor that the Scots had just rushed off down, “Quickly, you buffoons!” She castigated, her cheeks heating with rage as the incompetent infantry took one startled look at Claire, stood still with the knife in her hands, and then hurtled off in the same direction.

Her patient, his thoughts obviously still on the foiled escape, was pushed up on his elbow with a face awash with incomprehensible pain. The shaking had increased tenfold as he tried to raise himself upright. “N-no…” he sighed, a low sob settling in his throat and an accompanying sorrow alight in his eyes as he looked between Claire and the now closed door.

Claire's heart lurched in her chest with the realization that her actions may have been an egregious mistake. She had essentially sentenced this man to death herself, ruining his one chance at freedom.

He was slouched in a ball on the floor at his feet, mumbling through a wavering voice in Gaelic. She wasn't sure if it was pain or hopelessness that caused the anguish in his tone, but she had been a cause of it.

They were silent for a moment until Claire made the move for him again.

"I'll finish cleaning you up." She said, ignoring the twisting of her belly as she dipped a clean rag into the now clean water. He flinched under her touch, moving away from her attempts at remedying his back.

No more words were spoken, instead he lay quietly as she wiped away the dirt and blood from his back.

She was nearly finished her job before they were interrupted again. Claire knew instantly who it was, his calm yet predatory steps echoing down the hall long before the clink of the lock sounded out his arrival.

“Have you finished with him now?” He shot at Claire, his tone irritated as he signalled to his guards to enter. “I need the lad, it seems he has some intruders to answer for.”

Claire balked. The prisoner didn’t move but she could tell he was readying himself for further assaults upon his person.

“I have, but you’re not to touch him again, Captain. Do you hear me?”

Jack’s face hardened at her insubordination and he looked ready to throttle her. “Do you question me, madam?” He asked, his tone measured as he held the soldiers back with his hands. One word from him and Claire would be forcibly removed and she’d have no say what happened to the young man behind her. But she wasn’t afraid of Jack or the consequences of her outspoken nature.

“Of course I do! You,” she said, pointing a bunch of red rags in his direction as a matador waved red before a bull, “asked me down here, Captain. You requested that I tend to the boy. So here I am. If you now mean to come down here and take yet more flesh from his bones, you can wait until he’s in more of a fit state to answer for the actions of others...because I damn sure don’t see him going anywhere right now, do you?”

The redcoat soldiers stood either side of Randall looked horrified. Frightened of both Mistress Claire and of Captain Randall, the exchange had them nervously shifting from foot to foot. Torn between being ready for their next instructions and choosing which of the strong pair would win this verbal battle, the soldiers kept their feet splayed and their knees bent.

“Maybe,” Randall began, “if his *friends* see him trussed up, bleeding out all over my nice, clean gibbet,” he paused for effect, leaving an icy chill to settle on the room, “they will think twice about trying to fool me.”

“That may be true, Captain,” Claire sneered, “but I’m not in the business of allowing accusations meant for others to fall upon innocent parties. You may wield a lot of influence over these barracks, Captain Randall, but so do I.”

Randall chuckled, a deep ominous sound that made Claire shudder uncomfortably. She held his gaze, the fear masked under her hard expression. Jack in turn held her in his gaze, waiting for her to flinch, or to show some manner of intimidation. When she refused to crack, his dark smile widened.

Tipping his hat as he bowed sardonically, Randall smirked up at Claire before stepping backwards. “As you wish, madam. I shall make doubly sure I increase my efforts to find the men truly to blame for the abrupt invasion of the fort. But don’t get too comfortable, Mr Fraser,” he aimed at the prisoner on the floor, “I will be back for you...in time.” He took one last look at Claire and turned, clicking at the soldiers who followed behind him like lap dogs. The door closed with a swinging thump that thunderously echoed around the room.

Waiting until silence enveloped them once more, Claire knelt beside her patient and reached out once more.

“Dinna,” he spoke, his teeth clenched as he shifted his whole body away from her once more. “Just leave me here to die. It’s one kindness ye could lend to me now.”

Taken aback by the defeat in his words, Claire held her hand steady not yet shying away from him. “I’m here to help you, Mr Fraser,” she said, using his name or at least what she knew of it, for the first time. “I won’t leave you to rot so be quiet and let me do what I’m here for.”

“I’m going to die here,” he repeated, “now ye’ve scared off my rescue party..” His voice fell short again, thick with emotion. “I get the feeling ye ken what fate awaits me should ye heal my scratches. So dinna bother. Have mercy on me and leave me to die from my wounds instead.”

“I’m not in the business of granting wishes, Mr Fraser.” She replied, clenching her jaw tight as she finished covering his back in damp, clean bandages.

When the final piece of bandage was placed, Claire stood and brushed the dirt off her skirts before collecting the rest of her belongings to leave. She had this gnawing sensation in her gut, one she hadn’t had for a good while and she didn’t like it one bit.

Looking to his shadowed figure, she saw a broken man whose hope of escape had been destroyed by her actions. This young man who had fallen ill of Jack Randall… She sighed heavily. Balancing her supplies in her arms, she made two knocks to the door, prompting the soldiers to allow her to leave. With a final glance, she whispered a parting word she knew he’d likely not hear.

“I’m sorry, Mr Fraser.”

…TBC