#(she was REALLY there to cover *James and Henry’s* duties when they were filling in on the Express)

[mean-scarlet-deceiver]

Hey if you had to put some tvs characters into the rws who would you pick? I can see emily and salty working well in rws but what about other characters? Also do you have any headcanons about how they would fit into rws canon?

Haven’t thought it through extensively yet. I’d like to integrate them into a full headcanon timeline a la @feigeroman, but I also know a lot less about rail than he does so I’m a long ways away. 

Emily is the easiest, though. My thoughts for her are that she was a modern, optimized new build—the Tornado of Stirling Singles. (I first got this idea from FutureRust and became irrevocably attached after reading a bit of discussion about it on SiF.) 

However, her building (a long process) was completed at a pretty bad time as far as finding much demand for her. The original buyers realized that, with steam ending, and preservationists focused on saving ‘real’ engines at the time, she wasn’t going to serve well in her intended role as an attraction. Several other prospective buyers made the same calculations; also, she is significantly heavier than the original Stirlings, to the point where her axle bearing was too much for the one or two heritage lines at the time that did made inquiries about trialling her. 

She was in real danger of being turned static display before logging scarcely a couple hundred miles before the North Western took an interest. Add some brand-new motive power to their fleet for effectively nothing? Right up their alley. And she made a good impression when scouted, not at all caring that she was not being sought out with much any idea of tourism in mind, and expressing eagerness when the more strenuous demands of being in N.W.R. service were explained to her. So her lease was a no-brainer… for them.

(Emily’s owners were far more ambivalent. But they also knew that a lonely, stored engine is an unhappy engine, so that tipped the scales in favor of giving this arrangement a chance. She was so excited and you would have had a heart of stone to say no.)  

Emily’s past experiences as a ‘new build’ had been plenty discouraging enough to help convince her that on Sodor she had better keep her build date a secret and try to pass for the ‘real thing’. 

On her first day, Emily was sure everyone was staring and glaring at her because THEY. KNEW. (Emily can be more than a bit dramatic.) They didn’t, yet. But she was right that everyone’s reaction was just as much them going ‘wtf’ at seeing such an old-fashioned model as the Annie and Clarabel thing… and in the end rather few Sodor engines were long fooled by her ‘hello, I’ve been around forever and I know everything’ act. 

Though there was bafflement at first, seeing such a model, and then also seeing her handle ‘60s-style main line work! 

Anyway, as her fellow main line engines soon put the pieces together, they definitely had some fun over the years toying with the new arrival a bit. Gordon and Henry were especially good at putting her on the spot, with bland innocent faces, and then watching her efforts to brazen through it with great amusement. 

These games never got too severe, though. For one thing, Donald and Douglas took a big brotherly interest in their fellow Scotsengine almost at once. So their scowls kept a good lid on some of the others' baser instincts. For another thing, entertained though they were when making Emily squirm, she showed such sheer stubbornness and 'resource' in keeping up this ridiculous ruse long past the point anyone had imagined she would. The others had to respect her tenacity. 

Besides, despite her mule-headedness and refusal to acknowledge that she needed help, she *did* somehow learn a lot, very quickly. 

To be sure, when Emily was leaning in hard on her guise, she could be very bossy and high-handed, in those early years. Still, only some engines took her seriously. The rest just found it mildly but-no-more-than-average irritating. 

(Gordon once made the mistake of griping about who ‘that child’ thought she was, telling everyone their business… with Thomas and James in earshot. They opened up the history books to section ‘G’ cross-ref ‘1920s’ and had a field day week.) 

Anyhow, the time finally came when, for Reasons, after years of much guilt and internal agonizing, Emily began to seriously explore the merits of opening up and telling her friends the truth. So she sent out a bit of a ‘test balloon’… only to at once find everyone affectionately rolling their eyes at her. 

Talk of bafflement. 

“Of course you don’t know, flower child,” said Henry, tolerantly. 

??? 

“You weren’t around for that!” 

Emily noticed everyone starting to grin, and after a moment found her voice. It was in the ‘high-pitched squeak’ locker. 

“You… you all know?” 

“That you were made in the ‘60s—” 

“Nineteen-sixties, mind you.” 

“—right you are, Bear—or that you’re a fraud, or that you’re the funniest liar on the island?” 

The words really rocked Emily, but the mildly teasing tone was the same as yesterday and the day before. “How—how—” 

Everyone present had good fun quoting the highlight reel. 

“ ‘What is a... ‘zep’?’ ” asked James, going in for mimicry of both gender and accent (and making an utter hash of both). 

“ ‘Oh, yes, of course I’ve pulled an evacuation train before,’” said Duck. “ ‘Scores of them!’” 

“ ‘Full to the brim, they were,” agreed Donald, attempting to flutter his eyelashes. “Aye, of, ahhmm… vacs.’”   

This had evidently been her greatest hit, judging by the laughter. Which was straight out of Emily's nightmares... 

... but Percy, grinning next to her, murmured something so sweet and encouraging that she took stock again, and realized that she actually had—nothing to worry about? 

Possibly hadn't for quite some time? 

She managed to gasp How long? Only to get a few more sniggers. 

“Uhhh... summer '71?”

“Th-Th-That’s when I arrived!”

“Aye, Emmy. We recollect. What d'ye think we are, stu—?… ach,” Donald interrupted himself, with a resigned sigh, and looking perhaps too obviously at James and Henry. “Dinna answer that.”   

Realizing that she had already been accepted completely, long ago, Emily wound up both joining in the laughter and crying (on the latter of which the others, with more tact than might have been expected from them, didn’t comment). 

This is one of the best moments of her entire life. 

Another grand day was when her owners finally caved and allowed her to participate in the TV show. Which brings up another point, and one that is perhaps worth getting into, because this is hardly unique to her—it applies to quite a few of the North Western engines, especially some of the lesser-knowns. Emily has never been owned by the N.W.R. She is owned by a trust who has (with more than a little reluctance) leased her to work on Sodor. 

Originally, their reasoning was that they really had no other offers, except for not-particularly-prestigious museums. (There is the occasional engine that has the temperament to spend all their life sitting still. Emily isn’t one of them!) Besides, there was some hope that a) this way they could generate at least a little revenue from her and b) the experience would make her more attractive to future business partners. 

With A, they completely forget—or had heard, but underestimated—what a hard bargain the Hatts can drive. The lease was cheap to begin with, but the North Western also won the right to charge Emily’s maintenance against the account. Emily’s owners never actually had to pay the N.W.R., but overall this turned into a losing business prospect for them as the N.W.R. basically got her services for free. Their immaculate, unique engineering masterpiece of an engine suffered wear and tear, and for years they never really made a cent off their partnership with Sodor, which was something they long regarded as temporary. They were sure that one of these days “the political climate” would change, and the time would be right to deploy a replica Stirling Single on the proper sort of heritage railtours. In the meantime, they were very persnickety about her privacy, and would not give the North Western any rights to use her for publicity purposes… while then also turning around and being almost as reluctant to agree to any other sort of expansion in her duties. It was a very slow process before Emily was officially allowed to do anything but take local passenger trains. (Officially!) 

After a while, FC3 had to start cutting them significantly more generous deals or have them withdraw Emily from his service altogether. (It was very lucky that this wasn’t FC1. He had a bit of a weakness for sucking a good business relationship dry, and lost quite a few engines in his time because pride in his own masterful haggling skills sometimes rendered him stupidly inflexible about such things.)

Nevertheless, although better compensated, the New Stirling Trust was generally quite unhappy about the arrangement… especially with Emily increasingly ‘shunting trucks and hauling freight’… including in scrapyards… on Hallowe’en! (WTF, quoth the Trust.) On one surprise winter visit they found her not only fitted with a snowplough that they hadn’t authorized, but specifically sent out on line-clearing duty. The resulting blow-up was dramatic… not least of all because Emily had stronger feelings about this than her owners and the Fat Controller combined. Being literally a teenager, she had a massive shouting match with her designer about his overprotectiveness that was heard by everyone in the yard. (Yes, this was still during Emily’s “I’m keeping my origins a secret” years, and yes, she completely missed the fact that she had given up her own game during the course of that very public strop.)

It’s important to note that, for all their fussiness, Emily’s owners were the last thing in the world from hard-hearted. Emily’s pleas to not be withdrawn from Sodor were usually the only reason that they didn’t do just that… for decades. This concession was particularly pronounced by the ‘90s, when the “political climate” really had changed, and they were starting to find other venues for her. But by that point, it would have broken Emily’s heart to leave (and she indeed spent much of the decade quite afraid it was inevitable). 

She had also been begging for years to be allowed to participate in the TV series publicity, with its associated Sodor events. When they finally caved, it was largely for financial reasons. The Trust found this business very distasteful… but the licensing allowed them to finally make some serious revenue from their charge. (Emily was ecstatic, and to this day is probably the engine who is the biggest fan of the show. Incidentally, while this ‘new-build’ idea allows Emily to actually be of some use on Sodor’s main line, ‘As Good As Gordon’ and plenty of other improbable episodes are still complete fiction.) 

However, in exchange Emily also had to agree to occasionally leave Sodor and do some preservation circuit work. This led to a bit of a double life, as the New Stirling Trust’s strategy was that she was Emily, Just One of the Guys, while on Sodor, and Patricia, ‘No. 1010’ Stirling-Merriweather Single while on tour, and never the twain must meet. The Trust really thought that most people would never make the connection. To be fair, the family/tourist casual crowd generally did not. The real question is why they were so convinced that this was their best play. It came down mostly to a good deal of snobbery on their part—they remained ashamed that they had ’sold out’ and ‘commercialized’ engineer Merriweather’s masterpiece. Anyway, Emily of course had plenty of practice in this sort of charade and was by that point the consummate actor. Although she would have rather been at home with her friends, she sportingly made the most of it and had as much fun with it as she could (though the double life only exacerbated some of her insecurities). 

Only in 2019 did the N.W.R. and the Trust (both being led by some fresh blood) come to an agreement where Emily and Patricia could be publicly acknowledged as one and the same, and the N.W.R. had rights to have Emily’s real history publicized, have her run railtours, and carry a North Western number. (A third ‘best day ever,’ in her books.) 

Yes, that’s right. The Trust finally fully caved and acknowledged that ‘Patricia’ was a real true total Sodor engine… long after RWS had puttered to a slow death, and right in time for the TV reboot. 

These people are so bloody smart.

[aion-rsa]

Hamilton and 10 Other Ways to Watch the American Revolution

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Hamilton will debut on Disney+ on July 3rd, the start of a long holiday weekend. The Walt Disney Company paid good money for the Broadway phenomenon, a reported $75 million for the rights to the film, which features performances by the original cast (we wrote a primer on the cast and where they are now).

If you’re healthily avoiding crowds and already had your fill of fireworks, here are 10 more movies and TV shows that explore the American Revolution from different angles. 

1776 (1972)

Making the Founding Fathers sing was truly revolutionary when Sherman Edwards’s musical debuted on Broadway in 1969. The plot traced how the Second Continental Congress decided on independence; there are lots of fun character moments but really no other story. After the show won the Tony for Best Musical, Hollywood mogul Jack Warner hired most of the cast and director Peter Hunt to make a movie. Then Warner cut a big production number (now restored) to please President Nixon. This is John Adams’s view of history, so he’s the hero and John Dickinson the antagonist—but Dickinson still comes off better than eminent jurist James Wilson. Recognizing 1776 as an inspiration, Lin-Manuel Miranda gave the song “Sit Down, John!” a shout-out in Hamilton.

More of This: For rollicking fun in the 1700s, everybody should see Tom Jones, the 1963 film by Tony Richardson that made Albert Finney a global star.

April Morning (1988) and The Crossing (1999)

Howard Fast, proud leftist author of Spartacus, published April Morning as a novel about the Battle of Lexington and Concord and The Crossing as a nonfiction account of the Battle of Trenton. Now we recognize both as historical fiction. Fast’s robust stories were adapted into television movies with stellar leads: Tommy Lee Jones played a Lexington farmer guiding his teen-aged son in 1988, and Jeff Daniels portrayed Gen. George Washington trying to get across the Delaware in 2000.

More of This: In 1984 and 1986, CBS dramatized the life of George Washington over 10 hours. Barry Bostwick played George and Patty Duke Astin played Martha, so they got the height differential right.

The Book of Negroes

At the end of the Revolutionary War in 1783, British authorities evacuated thousands of Loyalists of African descent to Canada. The names of free black refugees were recorded in a document labeled “The Book of Negroes,” and Canadian novelist Lawrence Hill borrowed that title. (In the U.S., his book was retitled Someone Knows My Name.) In 2015 Hill turned his award-winning novel into a six-episode miniseries with writer-director Clement Virgo. This globe-spanning story follows a woman kidnapped in Niger, enslaved in South Carolina, and evacuated to Nova Scotia; she then returns to Africa to help found Sierra Leone. The Book of Negroes thus explores personal and political liberty, war, and nation-building—but not confined to the U.S.

More of This: The 1990 biopic Divided Loyalties profiles Joseph Brant, leader of Britain’s Mohawk allies during the Revolutionary War. Why do we see such side-eye on the American Revolution from Canada? Oh, yeah… 

The Devil’s Disciple

It’s always fun to watch Burt Lancaster and Kirk Douglas work together, enjoying each other’s company and trying to steal scenes. How about adding Laurence Olivier to the mix as real-life British general and playwright John Burgoyne? All in a 1959 adaptation of George Bernard Shaw’s first successful play, set in upstate New York during the crucial 1777 campaign. You might think the battle scenes acted out by wooden dolls are the most unrealistic part of this film, but wait till Lancaster blows up a room full of redcoats and stays on his feet. Because he’s Burt Lancaster, dammit!

More of This: To be frank, John Ford’s 1939 adaptation of Drums Along the Mohawk with Claudette Colbert and Henry Fonda is a better Hollywood movie set in upstate New York during the Revolution, but a more conventional one. 

John Adams

HBO’s seven-hour miniseries from 2008 remains the gold standard for Revolutionary drama because of the terrific acting by Paul Giamatti as John Adams and Laura Linney as Abigail Adams. The screenplay throws John into the center of events even more than his own autobiography did, and historical shortcuts often shortchange the facts. But the smart, cantankerous, high-minded spirit of the Adamses shines through.

More of This: Back in 1976, PBS covered the same ground in its thirteen-episode series The Adams Chronicles, which continued into the next two generations. Compare and contrast. 

Liberty’s Kids

PBS, DIC Entertainment, and a slew of celebrity voices taught Gen. Z about America’s Revolution in this 40-episode animated cartoon. Three years before Avatar: The Last Airbender debuted, this series showed a bunch of teens navigating a world at war. The young heroes managed to go almost everywhere the action was, and also not to age much between 1773 and 1789.

More of This: For another animated take, seek out Disney’s 1953 short “Ben and Me.” To see teens caught up in the start of the Revolution, Disney also offers Johnny Tremain from 1957. Even better, read the novels by Robert Lawson and Esther Forbes. 

Mary Silliman’s War

This is undoubtedly the most historically accurate film about life during the Revolutionary War. Mary Silliman was a housewife in Fairfield, Connecticut. Her husband was a militia officer imprisoned by the British, and she pursued his release while managing their farm and evading a Royal Navy attack. Educated and pious, Silliman kept a journal, which Joy Day Buel and Richard Buel, Jr., studied to write The Way of Duty. That biography was the basis of this independent drama from 1994 directed by Stephen Surjik, whose more recent work includes episodes of Daredevil and The Umbrella Academy.

More of This: The 1997 documentary A Midwife’s Tale dramatizes crucial moments in the life of midwife Martha Ballard while focusing on how historian Laurel Thatcher Ulrich recreated that life from the bare bones of Ballard’s post-Revolutionary diary. 

Revolution

After making the so-very-British Chariots of Fire, very-British Hugh Hudson turned in 1985 to the American War for Independence. And he cast not-at-all-British Al Pacino and Nastassja Kinski as British colonists caught up in the fighting, plus Canadian Donald Sutherland as a sadistic British sergeant. The result was widely derided as an epic mess, but there are some powerful visual sequences. Hudson later made a director’s cut that’s unusual in being 10 minutes shorter than the original version, as well as more coherent.

More of This: The next time Hollywood tried a Revolutionary War epic with a foreign-born director, Roland Emmerich delivered The Patriot, starring Mel Gibson. Such an invincible hero, such cartoonish villains, such whitewashing of the period’s sticky issues—it made Revolution look better.

Sweet Liberty

This 1986 comedy by Alan Alda hinged on the making of a movie about the 1781 Battle of Cowpens. Alda played a local professor and reenactor trying to stand up for historical accuracy. Michele Pfeiffer and Michael Caine were over-the-top actors come to South Carolina to star in the movie within the movie, and Saul Rubinek and Bob Hoskins played the crass filmmakers. It’s a mild satire of Hollywood clashing with genuine folk, but dedicated eighteenth-century reenactors who trained the troops in The Patriot say this film is the most accurate reflection of their experience.

More of This: For real drama behind Revolutionary reenactments, check out Nyier Abdou and Adya Beasley’s 39-minute documentary Being George on YouTube.

Turn: Washington’s Spies

From 2014 to 2017, this 40-episode AMC series told a highly fictionalized account of the Culper Spy Ring that operated on Long Island, slipping information from British-occupied New York to the American command. Later seasons covered Benedict Arnold’s betrayal and carried through to Yorktown. Though most of the main characters were inspired by real people, only Ian Kahn’s portrayal of George Washington felt deeply rooted in history. But adherence to the documentary record wasn’t the point of Turn—melodrama was, and the plot twists and romantic entanglements are many.

More of This: For more eighteenth-century melodrama, check out the 2013 filming of Moonfleet on Amazon. (But beware: The website offers cast info about Fritz Lang’s 1955 version instead.) 

The post Hamilton and 10 Other Ways to Watch the American Revolution appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[wildcard47]

green pastures (pg); fitzier

prompt: James proposes to Francis; Francis misunderstands and thinks he’s being officially asked to marry James to someone else a la that scene in The Vicar of Dibley.

I promised @full-of-terrors this adorable little prompt fill ages ago and finally get to post it! Hope you enjoy!

When the knock sounded at his front door just after three bells, Francis could find no reason to avoid answering it, even if he had meant to go to bed within the next few minutes.

He’d been so damn dispirited since James’s stupid bloody boyfriend came into town. Not that he would have admitted this to another soul.

Not as if Le Vesconte was actually James’s boyfriend, either. By all accounts they were only mates; Henry never seemed like the type to go bi all of the sudden, given how much harping on he’d done about his on-again, off-again girlfriend.

But James did keep mentioning all these hot bumbly dates he’d had while he was down in London – whatever that meant – and since Francis did not drink anymore, the only way anyone could find out he was depressed about this turn in events was if they came to his living room and stopped him eating bagfuls of crisps while watching a bunch of old Frasier episodes.

What did it matter if his ex-boyfriend was going on other dates? They’d only gone out six and a half times, more than three years ago. And now he’d moved back to town all of the sudden. The man was free to go anywhere he liked.

Expecting it was Jane Franklin come to complain about Neptune, Francis was startled to see James standing there when he opened the door.

“Hi.”

James smiled at him; it looked strained and unnatural. “Hello.”

“So, er.” Francis’s mind was full of questions it was probably rude to voice, especially to someone you’d been avoiding for nearly a week. “How – how are things?”

“Actually,” James did not even hang up his coat, just turned by the rack, one hand now tracing over the spine of a closed umbrella. “Can I – I’ve something important to ask you, if you don’t mind. Well. Obviously I can ask you questions without you minding them, only this pertains to the type of question rather than the principle of the thing.” He scratched at the back of his neck. “Not here to give a lecture on forms of the interrogative.”

“Er. Yeah, obviously. You can talk to me about whatever you like.” Francis narrowed his eyes. “Are you all right?”

You seem…. anxious, he wanted to point out.

“Me? Fine. A bit jumpy, you know, but had a lot of caffeine today, so that’s understandable. Four flat whites. Can you believe – sorry. I’m rambling now. Suppose I may as well ask this right out. Francis, have you ever thought about, er, marrying anyone?”

“Oh.” Francis could not have said why this question left him so disappointed. He didn’t think topics as boring as Naval protocol would bring James to his front door at eleven thirty at night. “Well, yeah. I mean, strictly hypothetical, mind. Not had reason to yet.”

Most of the people he’d served with so far were already married or far too young to try. And barring that, none of them had wanted to be married on the ship. Or by Francis.

“Yes. Not as if you’re imagining it daily. You’ve always been a practical sort. Aren’t given to flights of fancy.”

“No,” agreed Francis.

“No.” James swallowed hard, bit his lip. “Anyway, you’ll remember from – I mean, the conversations we had – that I have always admired marriage. As an institution. Even before I actually aspired to be part of it. You know? It’s a, ah, very good thing to my mind. Or it should be, given the many benefits.”

“Time can change even the most stubborn man, I suppose.” Francis tried to smile. “So, you’re, ah, ready to take the plunge at last, hm?”

“Yeah. Yes.” James seemed to steel himself. “I mean. Not just for the sake of it. I want to. Have wanted to, really. For a long time.”

“Makes sense,” said Francis, in an attempt at being neutral.

“Does to me, as well.” That brief, strained smile was back.

“Well, that’s – great news.”

He had not decided what the rest of his sentence would be, but it apparently didn’t matter, because James blurted out something very loudly.

“Francis, would you – do me the honor of marrying me?”

Francis’s heart sped up, and his stomach twisted with distress, but he tried not to showcase any of these feelings to James. Can’t hurt him.

“You… want me to marry you?”

Christ, he could picture it now: James blindingly handsome in his dress blues, in the local church or outside in the park or even aboard Battalion, standing hand-in-hand on the quarterdeck with some stupid blonde blockhead while Francis stood between them, a borrowed, well-worn Bible in his hands, thumbing through the chaplain’s notes on love and honour and duty and wanting to pitch himself off the crow’s nest instead.

“Can’t imagine asking anyone else,” said James, voice hitching slightly.

Oh. Damn it.

“Well, ah – I don’t mean to make you wait for an answer, obviously, it’s just – I’m a bit – surprised, is all. No one’s ever – asked me before.”

“Really?”

Why was James looking at him like that, as if he were afraid taking his eyes off of Francis for even a second meant he might disappear? The man seemed to be one sentence away from a total nervous breakdown.

“And it’s been a long time since we’ve. Er. I mean, of course it would be – wonderful – ”

“Yeah.”

“Let me just have a look at my diary,” Francis said, by way of stalling, hoping against hope that James had his heart set on a specific date and time and that he was going to be out of the country on that blessed morning. Or perhaps dead. Dying would get you out of marrying your ex-boyfriend to his new boyfriend, wouldn’t it? “Knowing you, you’ve already got your heart set on a specific month.”

“God, no,” answered James in a rush. “Honestly, Francis, if it helps, you can pick any day of the year you damn well please.”

“Right.” Francis turned another page, then another, with no clue as to what he was bloody reading. “Well. Er. That’s….a lot to choose from. Plenty of options.”

He meant to say something about how most people liked summer weddings, or that all the good reception places would be booked years in advance so James shouldn’t get his heart set on having it done anytime soon – the sort of vapid, oddly-prophetic comments Sophia used to say to him all the time when she was turning him down. Course, Francis was actually asking her to be his wife, then, so it was different.

When James spoke again, after a long, agonizing silence, it was in the quietest voice Francis had ever heard. As if he might weep.

“You don’t want to do it, do you?”

“What?” At James’s raised eyebrow, Francis deflated. “James, it isn’t – obviously, I don’t want to rush into an answer if it’s the wrong one. You – well, you’re important to me.”

“I know that.”

“And I’m really touched that you’d ask me after all this time. Truly I am. But I – should probably think about it, before I answer one way or the other.”

James’s expression slammed closed, then, almost as suddenly as it used to whenever Admiral Franklin walked aboard.

“Don’t tiptoe around it. Not with me.” He cleared his throat, gave Francis a jerky nod. “It – if that’s what you feel, then your answer’s already no. Which is all right. Erm. Silly of me to have thought…”

It was as if Francis were reliving the day they broke up, three years before; he could not understand why saying I’ll think about it would provoke such a fierce reaction.

“I should go,” murmured James.

Oh, god, why was he going so soon? Was he angry? James couldn’t be angry when the words he was saying were so kind and understanding.

“You don’t have to.”

“I do. I really do.”

They had reached the door; James opened it, clearly ready to step out without another word. He’d leave forever and it would be all Francis’s fault. Fucking hell, why could he not agree to put his own bloody pride aside when it came right down to it?

“Stop – bloody walking, damn it!” Francis squeezed his eyes closed, summoned every last ounce of strength. “I’ll do it, all right? James, I’ll – if you want me to perform a ceremony, I can do. For you. I – owe you that much. I want you to have that.”

A terrible silence settled over the room as James turned away from the open door.

“Perform the ceremony?”

“Yeah.” Francis opened his eyes, tried to tamp down the avalanche of curse words that were building in the back of his mind. He would not stutter. He would not weep. “Ship’s captain, powers that be, whatever. I’ll do it, you’ll be married, and then you’ll – well. Be happy.”

Without me.

“Francis, no.” James opened and closed his mouth, threaded the distance between them before taking Francis’s hand in both of his. “No, no, no. That’s not what I meant at all. I – good god, man. Who the bloody hell else am I in love with? I’m saying I want to marry you. I’m asking for your hand, Francis.”

“Mine,” was all Francis whispered.

James peered closely at his baffled expression. “I – you know how I feel about you. Don’t you?”

Francis was now so shocked he couldn’t speak.

“Why d’you think I’d come here in the middle of the night and ramble on about marriage if I didn’t want to propose? For Christ’s sake, I’ve not stopped thinking about us for three years. Every day I wanted to call you. Write to you. Just – see you getting coffee on the way to work. And then we end up living in the same town again, going to all the same events, and it – I mean, you’ve no idea how terrified I was, to think you’d moved on with your life. And now….Francis, I honestly can’t imagine being anywhere without you at my side. I want to marry you. I want us to get – old and fat and weird together. Think we’d be rather good at that last bit, actually.”

“So you,” Francis could hardly draw air into his lungs. “You mean you’re – ”

“Marry me, Francis.” James squeezed his fingers, encouraging. “Please.”

Unable to say anything else, Francis sat right down on the carpet, because his knees would no longer hold him up, and covered his mouth with a shaking hand to suppress the high-pitched squeak trying to claw its way from his throat.

“I’m all right,” he kept whispering, although he was not: he was swiping big fat tears from his face with the back of one hand, and James was hovering at his side, still babbling away although Francis couldn’t hear any of the words; meanwhile, Neptune was barking like a bloody demon dog, rushing in and out of the open door in obvious confusion, wagging his tail and licking Francis’s salt-damp fingers every so often, and Jesus bloody Christ.

James wanted to marry him.

“Francis.”

Glancing up with a very unromantic snort, trying to swallow the knot of tears in his throat, Francis met James’s concerned gaze and finally – finally – managed to say something.

“Okay.”

James’s face brightened. His grip on Francis’s shoulders tightened. “Oh my god. Really?”

“Yeah.” Francis was grinning now. “I’ll marry you, James.”

Squealing in delight, now peppering Francis’s face with kisses and hugging him tightly, James eventually pulled away and let out a victorious howl of a cheer. Hearing this, Neptune decided to join in, baying joyously at the open front door before trotting forward to see what was going on on the front stoop.

James had already jumped to his feet to join him, calling out to the entire neighborhood with his hands cupped around his mouth. “Francis is gonna marry me!”

“Jesus Christ. I have neighbors!”

“Francis is gonna marry m – oh, Neptune, no!” A black blur darted out of the doorway, running pell mell toward the street. Cursing, James took off after him, now sounding much less cheerful. “Come back here this instant – no! Right – now!”

Judging by how fast James was now sprinting down the driveway and toward the curb, as well as the yowling, Neptune was probably after Mrs. Franklin’s tomcat again.

Laughing hysterically as James tried and failed to capture a boisterous Newfie with nothing more than his bare hands, Francis watched with faint pride as his fiancé – a romantic, dashing hero of a man – stumbled and fell into the side of next door’s recycling bin, knocking it backwards onto the lawn. A delighted Neptune stopped his mischief to come back and run circles around James and all the now-visible rubbish, occasionally stopping to look back at Francis and bark loudly.

“Well, he’s killed me,” James called theatrically from his prone position, as a very happy dog decided the best thing to do was sit in James’s lap. With a huff, Neptune sat down, then flopped sideways, draping his chest directly over James’s ribs. Four enormous paws splayed out around James’s middle. James groaned and winced as he absorbed the full weight of this gift. “I might die before we get to celebrate.”

“Yeah, you’re stuck now,” offered Francis as he walked closer. On an impulse, he tossed the jacket in his hand onto the damp ground and lay down next to them.

“Nnngh,” whined James, but he was grinning.

Francis leaned over, pressed a kiss to James’ forehead. “See? Completely stuck.”

[gaslightwestern]

When Sins Haunt: Pre-Story Drabble #1 Planning a Crime Over Coffee (Jack’s POV)

Context: Technically proceeds this scene. Jack, Martin, and Mae are bantering discussing breaking into a house when Officer O’Brera shows up. [ Dialogue-heavy; canon; 1,300+ words ]

[ Overview | Intro | Page | # | Charlotte | Jack | Warren | Sam | Martin, Mae & Theo | TL ↓ ]

The bell above the café door chimed as another customer entered; faces buried beneath bundles of thick wool. Each time they brought along a gust of frigid air with them. Jack shivered violently, his threadbare brown coat no match for the torture that was January in New York City. Everyone in the vicinity seemed cozy in their overcoats, clustered around circular wooden tables full of baked goods and hot drinks.

“I just ordered my coffee and it’s already cold,” Jack grumbled, taking a small sip from the large white mug in his hands.

Outside the snow was falling steadily, covering the city with another soon-to-be-tarnished white blanket. The red brick tenements that towered around the small café looked almost picturesque—if not for the frozen filth hanging from the iron staircases and the vagrants huddled together in the trash-filled crevices between the buildings. Carriage wheels and countless footsteps mashed the snowflakes into a sea of slush outside, flooding the dirty streets of the Lower East Side with a fresh layer of grime.

Awash in the gray light from the window, Mae and Martin shared a knowing glance, before he raised a thick eyebrow. “It’s cold because you haven’t shut up since we walked in.”

“I wouldn’t have to talk so much if you’d contribute to the conversation instead of making eyes at the waitress.” Jack retorted, before lowering his voice. “We need to figure out how we’re going to break into Captain Marlow’s house.”

“You need to figure that out, not me. I’m just here for the scenery.”

Grinning from ear-to-ear, Martin’s dark gaze returned to the voluptuous brunette who, with balance of a tightrope walker, skillfully weaved her way through the tables despite the trays of dishes and heavy mugs in either hand. In Martin’s defense she had sent more than a couple lingering glances his way. Most of the ladies who catch his eye do.

“We don’t know where he lives,” Mae pointed out, dabbing her lips with a handkerchief having finished her hot cocoa. Maybe he was talking too much. “Isn’t that, you know, the first rule of breaking and entering?”

Jack grimaced, letting the sounds of chairs strapping the floor and chatter sweep over him. The location of the Marlow residence was something Jack had neglected, but he refused to admit it. “No, that’s the second. The first is figuring out when to do it.” His hands were fidgeting and he slipped them under his thighs. “I’m thinking Friday. I overheard him bragging about how he’s planning to take his wife to Delmonico’s.”

Martin snorted. “Since when can he afford Del’s?”

“Marlow’s magically come into some money recently.”

“You’d think he’d want to be more careful about flashing his money about,” Mae said dryly, as she searched through her bag, pulling out the latest from Henry James. Jack made a mental note to borrow the book from her later.

“You’ve mistaken Marlow for a man of intelligence,” Jack grinned.

Mae suddenly gasped. Both Jack and Martin sat up alert until they noticed what, or rather who, she was gawking at. Officer Theo O’Brera was strolling up the street, nodding cordially at passersby while surveying the area. Given his rosy nose and cheeks, he was likely several hours into his sixteen-hour shift. His face lit up upon spotting the trio through the window. Mae hurriedly smoothed the sleek black strands that had escaped her bun behind her ears. Jack vacated the seat by her and sat by Martin instead, who stared openly at the pair.

“You’re both ridiculous.”

Mae ignored Martin and plucked some stray gray cat hairs off her pale green dress. “Jack, did you pick this café and the window seats because you knew Officer O’Brera was on the beat?”

A long pause followed. “Maybe.”

“Jack!”

Another gust of cool air accompanied Theo as the door swung open. Several people eyed him wearily; a few pulled up their collars while others shoved their card games aside. Theo paid them all little heed, instead tipping his cap to his friends. “Good afternoon to you all. Surprised to see you out and about. Keeping warm?”

“Trying to,” Jack replied as Theo unraveled the blue scarf Mae knit him for Christmas. “Why don’t you sit down for a bit?”

Theo gave him a hard look. Was he going to scold Jack for attempting to lure him from his duties again? The young patrolman acted as though crime would escalate the moment he turned his back on the miscreants lurking in the darker corners.

“Trying and failing.” Theo plopped his own coat on Jack’s shoulders. “You might want to save for a new one, mate. Spring is more than a fair while away.”

Rather than explain how every time he saved up some money it seemed that rent was due, Jack mumbled a quiet thank you. He wrapped the gray wool tightly around him, simultaneously relishing the warmth and attempting to cover his burning cheeks.

“How has your shift been so far?” Mae asked, flashing a smile. Martin rolled his eyes.

“Boring,” he laughed, sitting next to her. “I guess criminals took the day off. Can’t say I blame ‘em. Mostly I’ve just been informing the outdoor poor of better places to stay warm.”

While Mae and Theo discussed the plight of the less fortunate, Jack and Martin eyed one another. Undoubtedly his friend was also thinking about the times patrolmen greeted them with nightsticks, not words, to clear them and other huddled street urchins from their hideouts.

Martin’s lips twisted into a devilish smirk. “When your shift is over you should warm up at Mae’s.”

Mae’s pointy boot swiped Jack’s leg as she delivered a swift kick to Martin’s shin. He gripped the table suddenly, clamping down on his lips and smothering whatever curse words threatened to slip past. While Theo explained how his shift would end too late for that, the two glared daggers at one another. Jack sank further into the coat, knowing his whole face had gone red from repressed laughter.

“Has Captain Marlow ever invited you over to his house?” Martin asked through grit teeth.

Theo gave a nod. “He had a fair number of the lads over for dinner party back in the fall. Why?”

Jack’s back snapped up as though someone had suddenly shoved an iron rod down his spine. “What’s his address?”

Theo’s gray eyes narrowed. “What deviltry are you three up to now?”

A large gulp of cold coffee did a poor job at smothering Jack’s nervous laughter. Although normally included in his investigations, Jack had kept Theo in the dark as he and Marlow both worked out of the Seventh Precinct Station. The possibility of a speck of loyalty between the colleagues left Jack hesitant to reveal his determination to bring down the Captain.

Martin looked at his nails. “He suspects Captain Marlow is involved in an illicit liquor scam.”

“Just tell the whole world, won’t you?” Jack snapped.

Theo’s lips pursed under his thick red mustache. “Wouldn’t put it past him.” Jack’s eyes went wide, but Theo raised a hand. “Not saying the Captain is guilty. I’m just saying he’s the sort.”

“Jack has compiled a compelling trail of evidence,” Mae explained, swiping the notebook from Jack’s tattered coat to show Theo. “All he really needs now is to locate where the alcohol is being stored.”

“You gotta tell me his address.” Jack was unable to keep the excitement out of his voice. “His house would be the easiest place for him to store the boxes. Or at least some of it. If I’m right—and I am—I’ll bet you more officers are involved.” Jack grabbed Theo’s sleeve. “This could be big!”

Theo glanced down at Jack’s hand, then noticed Martin and Mae were staring at him eagerly. He gave a great sigh then began searching through his pockets, pulling out a pen and paper. “I’ll write it down for you.”

Tag List: @jess-is-a-writer, @maskedlady, @thewritertiffany, @strawberry--sunrise, @teacupwriter, @girlnovels, @cirianne, @okrashan, @paranoidwriter, @drabbleitout, @nyxnevin, @scintillations-of-the-scribblers

[haughtbreaker]

Well, this is it guys. Thank you so much for joining us on this journey. We appreciated each and every one of your kudos and comments. Special thanks to @jaybear1701 who agreed to write this with me when I realized how much of a monster this story would be.

"It's so strange, when you're down, and lying on the floor How you rise, shake your head, get up and ask for more Clear-headed and open-eyed, with nothing left untried Standing calmly at the crossroads, no desire to run There's no hurry anymore when all is said and done."

 "Shit." Nicole cursed under her breath as she dove to the ground, taking up the space beside Waverly. She was feeling a little winded but still she smiled. The overturned table kept them protected from the chaos behind them. "You still armed?"

Waverly nodded. "Just barely." She couldn't help but smile, her eyes drifting over Nicole's form, the casual yet still elegant wedding dress she wore split up the side, revealing a very long leg that brought a flush to Waverly's cheeks. "If I don't get another chance, I wanted to say I really love you." She spoke wistfully, watching caramel eyes lighting up in delight.

"You are the love of my life, Mrs. Haught." Nicole smirked, leaning towards her new wife for a kiss.

"Earp-Haught." Waverly corrected her with a chuckle before returning the kiss in earnest. A loud crash sounded and Waverly pushed Nicole away. "Let's continue this later when stakes are a teeny bit less dire."

"You bet your ass we will." Nicole lifted her gun. "On 3?"

Waverly nodded. "3…"

"2…"

"1!" They shouted together as they popped up from behind the table together, only to find themselves staring down the barrels of two guns pointed directly at them.

Brown eyes narrowed at them, turning a lighter shade of caramel in the sunlight, blazing red hair tucked under a black stetson. "Make your peace." The 2-year-old spoke with as menacing a voice as he could before pulling the triggers, dousing the chests of both women with a fair amount of water.

"Ahhh!" Nicole yelled. "I'm hit! I'm hit!" She crumbled to the ground, holding her chest as the boy squealed in delight.

"Noooo…" Waverly crumbled beside Nicole. "We never should have taken on the infamous Billy the Kid!"

"At least we'll die together." Nicole groaned, pulling Waverly to her.

The boy laughed louder, throwing both hands up in victory until a surprising yell caused all three to jump.

"William Henry James! What did I tell you?"

Whitney stalked over with intent, taking the guns away from him. "For the hundredth time," with a smirk she aimed the guns at her mothers, "right between the eyes, Honey." She told him before pulling the triggers, hitting both Nicole and Waverly right in the foreheads just before a water balloon burst against her shoulder, dousing her completely. "Oh my god!" She turned. "Aunt Wyn... You're so dead!"

Pushing herself up to her elbows, Nicole watched as her daughter took off after Wynonna. Around them, kids were running about, shooting each other with water guns in the corralled area. On the other side of the fence, however, the adults were in varying stages of inebriation. "You think anyone would notice if we snuck off?"

Waverly laughed at the prospect, standing up and trying to dust off the dress she wore. "Sweetie, I don't think we can escape the Kiddie Corral without someone noticing." She offered her hand down to Nicole who took it more for the gesture than actually needing help up.

As if on queue, their tiny assailant ran straight into Nicole's leg with a grunt before he looked up, a huge smile on his face as his arms reached towards her. "Grandma, up?"

Nicole laughed, picking him up easily and settling him on her hip. "Kid, you are gonna be too heavy to carry soon." She kissed him on the cheek. "You wanna go get some cake?"

"Yes!" He yelled happily.

"Like he needs more sugar." Waverly commented as she followed Nicole, barely avoiding a crowd of running kids.

Nicole smirked, leading the way out of the area and over to the food tent. "You know what the best thing about being a grandma is?" She asked as Waverly's hand slipped into her own, their fingers intertwining.

"That we don't have to worry about him not going to sleep?"

"Exactly." Nicole headed straight for the dessert table, smiling at Jeremy who was expertly dishing out slices of the brightly colored wedding cake.

"Hello ladies… and gentleman."

"Jeremy, could we have the largest slice of cake you have that also has the most frosting?" Nicole asked specifically.

"I might have kept a corner piece for you specifically." Jeremy winked as he pulled out a plate already loaded with a large piece of cake. "Only the best for my special guy." He leaned forward, offering his palm to Billy.

"High five!" Billy yelled as he slapped Jeremy's hand.

"Yes!" Jeremy handed the cake out. "At least someone around here loves me."

"Awww. We love you." Waverly took the plate. "Thanks, Jer." She followed Nicole and Billy to their table, enjoying the moment to sit down and just take a minute to be calm.

"Hey Kid. Use your fork." Nicole scolded their grandson, handing him the plastic utensil. Her eyes tilting up to look at Waverly, she found her wife watching her with a sappy smile. "What?"

"You're beautiful." Waverly reached up to remove a blade of grass from auburn hair.

"You're not so bad yourself." Nicole laughed. "Actually you're gorgeous." She corrected herself, leaning towards Waverly for a kiss.

"Ewww. No!" Billy pushed them apart. "My Grandma." He told Waverly with a scowl, waving his frosting-covered fork in her direction..

"What?" Waverly laughed, grabbing the fork from him. "Don't you threaten me, Kiddo. She was mine first." Looking up at Nicole, she rolled her eyes. "This is what happens when you spoil him."

"What?" Nicole gave her a mock surprised look. "You're not spoiled, are you Billy?"

"No!" He laughed, his mouth covered in frosting.

"You spoilin' my kid?" Whitney asked with a huff, plopping down on a chair. "Oh man, how much cake has he eaten?"

Knowing exactly how much, Nicole shrugged. "We lost track."

"You're doing this on purpose," Whitney complained. "I don't know why I ever brought you two back together." She joked. "You're lucky I love the both of you. I should make you watch him so I can study for my finals."

"Oh no." Nicole laughed as she wiped a bit of frosting from Billy's cheek. "Tonight is my wedding night and it is my sworn duty to deflower your mother."

"Mom!"

"Awww, Sweetie." Waverly gave Nicole a sympathetic look, reaching up to cup her cheek. "You were too late the first time, but we can pretend if you want."

"You guys are so gross." Whitney covered her eyes.

"What's gross?"

Nicole looked up with a smile at her mother who sat down at the table with a newly filled glass of champagne. "Hey, where's Dad?"

"I don't know. Talking about hockey or politics or something with Jesse." Her mother took a sip of her drink before clearing her throat. "What's gross again?"

Nicole smirked. "Premarital sex." She answered before taking a sip from her own glass.

"Oh." Mrs. Haught sniffled. "Well, that hasn't really been a concern of yours since you were 15 now has it?"

"Wait… 15?" Whitney's eyes grew in size.

Nicole choked on her drink. "What? How the…"

"You always were as subtle as a freight train, Nicole." Alexandria gave her a straightforward look, daring her to argue.

"Ok can we not talk about this in front of my grandson?" Nicole gestured to Billy who seemed only interested in shoving fistfuls of cake into his mouth.

"Oh like you were talking about deflowering my mother on her wedding night?" Whitney laughed. "I'm sure my mother wouldn't mind hearing about your teenage conquests."

Waverly snorted. "Oh I know every single name on that list."

"Ok can we not?" Nicole felt her cheeks burning a bright red before Waverly leaned over and pressed a kiss to one of said cheeks. "Thanks, Mom." She glared at the oldest Haught.

A loud commotion from the the grilling area got everyone's attention and Nicole was surprised to see Wynonna in what looked like a heated debate with both her father and Jesse.

"Oh no." Mrs. Haught stood up, dusting her slacks off. "I should go calm your father."

"Oh boy…" Whitney stood up. "I better go too…"

"Hey." Nicole thought quickly, lifting up Billy with a huff. "Go hand him to Wynonna. She'll calm down quickly."

"Good idea." Whitney commented, grabbing her son and rushing off after Nicole's mother.

Nicole shook her head, wiping the frosting off her hands on the only clean napkin she could find. She looked up to find Waverly watching her with a soft look. "I love you."

"I love you too." Waverly moved right next to her, bumping her gently with a loving smile. "Thank you."

Raising her eyebrows, Nicole returned the smile with a slightly more bewildered one. "For what?"

"Coming back to Purgatory."

Nicole's smile softened. "Where else would I be?" Leaning forward, she pressed a soft kiss to Waverly's lips, feeling a love that had grown between them the past few years. She'd thought it was impossible to love Waverly any more than she had 25 years ago, but everyday she found that love growing just a bit more.

"I can think of somewhere else we could be." Waverly wiggled her eyebrows.

"So can I," Nicole laughed, leaning forward for another kiss just before something hit Waverly and a cold rush of water splashed over the both of them. Looking up in shock, Nicole was surprised to see Wynonna standing in shock behind a laughing Billy, another water balloon in his hands.

"My grandma!" He yelled.

"He's gonna get it." Waverly finally growled, pecking a quick kiss on Nicole's lips before she took off after the now running toddler.

Nicole could only laugh as she pushed off the seat and followed.

[takemeawaytocamelot]

A Wild Night in Vegas -- Part 13

Here’s the next installment! This is a new record for myself and @outlandishchridhe - 14 PAGES!! I’ll put it below a cut so it doesn’t take up vast amounts of space on all your dashes. If it doesn’t work, as always, let me know and I’ll see if I can get it to you somehow. 

We always have so much fun writing this story and adore all the comments we get from you guys. Writing this is always a source of peace and rest from our hectic lives. Thanks for following along with us in this crazy journey!

Part 12

Fraser Bairn Watch: Month 7

“Miss Beauchamp? A word please?”

Claire’s instructor stopped her as she was picking up to leave class for the day. She was exhausted. She saw the woman’s stare lingering on her protruding belly; she had taken to wearing the maternity clothing that she and Jamie had purchased, but right now, she longed for the comfort and security of one of his big shirts.

Claire nodded and followed her professor to her office. She didn’t bother to correct her on her name change. She was almost done with school anyway, so it didn’t really matter much.

“Have a seat.”

Her instructor met her with a steely glare and stood before her, frowning.

“Do you recall what all of the instructors stated at the beginning of each semester of this program?”

Claire’s hands moved to cover her bump, shielding her child unconsciously from this woman’s stare and made eye contact, not willing to be brought down this easily.

“Yes, I do.”

“And?”

“And what?”

Her instructor sighed and pointed at her stomach.

“You’re pregnant.”

“I hardly see how that is relevant or anyone’s business but mine or my husband’s.”

“I see,” she said, eyeing Claire up and down. “You do realize how hard this is going to be for you, correct? You know that most women who decide to become pregnant during nursing school do not finish, and those that do very rarely pass boards. This is why we tell you not to make choices like that until you are finished.” She pointed again to her stomach and made a face akin to disgust. “How do you expect to have time to study for your boards with a newborn? You look as though you’re about to pop any day now. What are you going to do if you have this child before you’re done with these last classes? Who’s going to help you?”

Claire’s mouth opened and closed, trying to contain her rage. She couldn’t very well lose her temper when she still needed a good grade to pass the class.

“Am I not meeting the expectations of the class right now?”

“Well...yes, you are. You are one of the top students in my class. I just think…”

“So if I’m doing well,” Claire said, raising her voice above her instructors. “I don’t see what my being pregnant has to do with anything.”

“All of us are concerned that you won’t be able to finish. Children are hard work, Claire, and you need some support to get any of the daily tasks done. With school and work, I think you’ll not be able to complete all the assignments and projects before the end. As I said, you look as if you’re about to pop any day.”

“For your information, I am only 29 weeks pregnant. My husband is an amazing support system for me and I will finish. I’m still doing incredibly well and I’m working very hard to do so.”

“I just don’t know that you can do it.”

There was a hard silence that rang out through the room and Claire stood.

“Did you need anything else from me?”

Her instructor sighed.

“No. No, that’s all.”

“Then I have to be leaving now. I have a lot of studying to do. Good day.”

###

At home, Jamie had dinner simmering. He was starting to get a little worried as Claire wasn’t home yet as she was rarely late.

“Aye, Henry, thank ye. I truly appreciate the call,” he said, walking through the front room. Henry had called him with a job opportunity he had come across that he thought Jamie might enjoy.

“Of course. You’d mentioned you wanted a job with regular hours and a good schedule. This supplier’s got a spot open for a distributor. Not sure how being a ‘knight of the realm’ will help get the job, but I thought it sounded like something you’d be interested in.”

Jamie nodded, glancing to the door expecting to see Claire.

“Aye, verra interested. I thank ye. How do I apply for the position?”

“I’ll give the supplier a call, tell him I’ve got someone for the spot. He’ll interview you and talk to you about it, but I think you’ll be fine.”

“Would ye mind being a reference for me, Henry?”

Jamie heard a warm chuckle on the other end of the call.

“Not at all, Jamie. I’d be more than happy to be a reference. Do you have something to write with? I can give you his number.”

Jamie opened his mouth to respond, but the door opened. Claire was finally home and…she didn’t look good.

“Ah, I’m afraid I’ll have to call ye back.”

Jamie hung up and put his phone on the counter, worried at the expression on her face.

“Sassenach? What’s happened?”

Her face was completely flat, devoid of any kind of emotion. For once, he wasn’t quite sure what was going on behind her eyes. He took a cautious step towards her, trying not to spook her.

“Mo nighean donn, are you alright?” he asked gently.

She came back to herself all at once. She had dropped her bags on the floor and looked up at him with tears shining in her eyes and sighed shakily.

“No,” she whispered. “I’m not.”

“Come wi’ me. Tell me what’s happened.”

Leading her slowly to the couch, he sat beside her, holding her hands in his.

“Jamie you promised me honesty, yes?”

“Aye.”

“Then I need you to answer my next question honestly.”

“Of course.”

Another shaking breath, she looked up at him.

“Do you think I can do this?”

“Do what?”

Claire looked away from him then, her voice going soft.

“All of it. Be a mother, finish nursing school successfully. Do you think I can actually do any of it?”

Letting go of her hand, he held her face and forced her to meet his eyes.

“You are the most amazing woman I’ve ever known, Claire. I’ve never seen ye put yer mind to something and fail. You’re easily as stubborn as I am, and ye ken how bad I can get. If anyone in this world could be an amazing nurse and a great mother, it’s you.”

He maintained his gaze until he saw her relax. Gently brushing the tears from her cheeks, he smiled softly.

“Would ye mind telling me what’s brought this on, a nighean? You promised me honesty as well.”

“My instructor… She pulled me aside after class today. She reminded me of something we’d been told at the start of the program and said she didn’t think I could make it. What would happen if I gave birth before the end? What would I do? What kind of support would I have? And I just kept hearing that in my head as I drove home. She thought I couldn’t do it.”

“Ye have me, Sassenach. I’ll do whatever I can to support and help ye. If the bairn comes early, I’ll stay home wi’ him as much as I can.”

She gave him a weak smile and nodded.

“I know you would. You’ve been nothing but amazing through all of this. I can’t tell you what it means to me. And I think-”

Tears filled her eyes again and Jamie worried something else had happened.

“What?”

“You brought home new roses.”

He followed her gaze and turned to look at the flowers he’d put in the vase.

“Aye. Seven roses for seven months gone.”

“No no, not gone. Seven months started.”

“Aye, as ye say, mo nighean donn. Seven months begun on our bairn.”

“I know you’re excited to finally meet her, but you will not put me further into this pregnancy than I am. Not with all the things I still have to do before she gets here!”

Hands up in surrender, he leaned in and kissed her softly.

“My apologies, mo chridhe. Would ye like some dinner, then?”

“Yes. That sounds lovely.”

###

“I’m supposed to survive two more months of this?” Claire asked and groaned as she sank heavily onto the couch.

“Aye, and get a wee bit bigger too, I reckon.”

She turned her head and glared at him.

“If you make one more comment about my size, James Fraser, I’ll have you sleeping outside.”

“I think you are the most beautiful woman on the face of the planet,” he said, kneeling in front of her to kiss her stomach. “And I am verra honored to be in your presence.”

The baby kicked again and Claire winced.

“Did ye say the gardens would put ye on lighter duty now?” he asked, rubbing a hand softly over the swell as it moved around.

“Yes, they will next week. I’m training the new girl to take over some of my work.”

“Give me yer foot,” he said, sitting on the floor.

Frowning at him, she lifted one foot cautiously.

“Just give it,” he said in a flat tone. “I’m no’ going to bite it.”

“I should think that would be worse for you than for me…”

“Aye, it probably would. But. I was doing a little reading today.”

He set her shoe down very gently, as if it were made of glass, and pulled off her sock.

“About feet?”

“Aye. I was reading a woman’s blog through her pregnancy. She blogged through the whole ordeal, though she took a wee bit o’ time off to have the bairn o’course. But I’ve been reading in line wi’ where you’re at and she said her feet hurt like hell, ken? So I thought perhaps yours might too.”

“And just what are you going to do about it?”

Locking eyes with hers, he dug his thumb into the arch of her foot where the ache was. She flinched at first, not prepared for the feeling, but she forced herself to relax. Continuously, he kneaded her foot until the pain was completely gone. Then he repeated his ministrations on the other.

“Oh Jamie, that’s amazing.”

“Aye, the woman on the blog said it always helped her feel better too. Legs too?”

“Oh God yes.”

He laughed as he move his hands to her calves, massaging them as best he could.

“If ye keep makin’ noises like that,” he muttered with a smirk. “The neighbors will think I’m making wild love to ye.”

“Let them. I don’t give a rat’s ass what they think right now.”

Offering his hand, he helped her to her feet and lead her to the bathroom.

“You,” he said as he turned the water on. “Have been working so hard, both at uni and at yer job. And above all that, ye carry my bairn. Let me take care of ye for a bit.”

“Jamie all you do is take care of me.”

“Weel if ye dinna want a cozy bubble bath wi’ yer husband, I can just leave ye here.”

Claire laughed and glanced at her large belly and the tub.

“You really think we’ll both fit in that?”

“I said it would be cozy.”

“You’re the next best thing to a Viking warrior, and I’m more than a little pregnant with your huge baby. There’s no way both of us can manage in that without breaking something.”

The water was warm now, so he put the stopper in the drain and got the bath soap. He stripped out of his clothes quickly and helped her out of her own.

“We’ll just give it a go. If it doesna work, I’ll think o’ something else.”

With the water turned off, Jamie stepped into the tub and helped her in. He sat down first and she moved awkwardly and settled into the water with him. She sighed and leaned back against him for a few moments.

“This is nice.”

“And the tub’s no’ broken yet.”

###

A few days later, Jamie filled up a basket with sandwiches, some snacks, and some cool drinks. Claire didn’t know he was coming to meet her for a picnic lunch, but he knew she’d love the surprise. She loved her job at the botanical gardens, the fresh air and the plants brought her such joy. It made him happy every time he saw it.

Her belly was getting quite large these days and he loved to watch her. She’d lost a little of her natural grace with her increased size, but she still amazed him. The fact that she kept up with a good job, a demanding school schedule, and had a healthy pregnancy had him falling for her harder every day.

###

Claire checked on the watering system one last time, pressing her hand into her lower back. The tour this afternoon would be nice, to be moving around the gardens rather than standing or sitting for long periods. But before that, she would have a nice cool lunch in the cafe. The baby started kicking, as if in agreement of getting some lunch.

She caressed her bump and said softly, “Are you hungry too, little lamb?”

“Well well,” said a familiar oily voice.

Taking a deep breath, Claire turned to face Frank for the first time in months. His eyes went wide as he noticed her belly, his mouth falling open. Claire’s eyes locked on the woman hanging off his arm. If she squinted, Claire recognized her as the ‘woman’ Frank had been with in his office. She looked different with her clothes on and her hair perfectly in place. The girl couldn’t be more than eighteen or nineteen, taking an Introduction to History course at UNLV.

“Hello Frank,” she paused, looking from him to his arm candy. “Frank’s mistress.”

The woman gave her a tight smile, one that was polite without being kind.

“My name is Ginny, Miss Beauchamp.”

Claire laughed but gave no other response to the harlot.

“You’ve clearly thrown your life away after that Scottish bastard.”

“Excuse me?”

“There’s no way you’ll graduate with a newborn. The time you’ll have to take off for a child will just be too much for you, Claire. You can’t be a good medical student and a good mother.”

Fists on her hips, she glared hard at him.

“For your information, Franklin Randall, I’m at the top of my class and my child is perfectly healthy. And I didn’t have to fuck any of my professors to get there. Unlike little miss tart over here.”

“Excuse me?! I didn’t fuck Dr. Randall to be top of the class!”

“Was that just an added bonus?”

“Now, Claire,” Frank started, condescendingly. “I know that what you saw was shocking, but really, there's no need to be rude.”

Claire looked at him for a long moment and then turned, refusing to be spoken to this way in one of the places that brought her peace.

###

Miss Beauchamp. That’s what the wee lass had said. Claire didn’t correct her, though he didn’t blame her. The last time she’d seen that woman had not been under the best circumstances and she had not made a good impression on Claire, though it was a lasting one. Basket in hand, he approached the small group with a large smile.

“Jamie!” she said in surprise, eyes going wide.

“Hello there, Mrs. Fraser. I’ve come to feed ye, if ye’ve a break coming. And allow me to say how verra beautiful ye look in the sunlight this fine afternoon? Ye look like ye have a halo o’ gold on yer head.”

Her cheeks flushed a little and she grinned widely. As she accepted a kiss from Jamie, she caught Frank’s face out of the corner of her eye, his mouth slack with shock and eyes wide.

“Well thank you, Mr. Fraser. And yes, I do think it’s about my lunch break.”

“Good, then we’ll- Oh! I didna realize ye had a tour group.”

“I don’t. They’ve just come to see the gardens.”

Jamie put his free arm around Claire’s waist and beamed at her.

“The gardens that have bloomed under yer careful eye?”

“The very same. You remember Frank and…”

“Ah! That’s the harlot then?”

“It is. Come on, darling. Your little girl is hungry. She's really kicking up a storm today.”

Leaning down, he kissed Claire’s cheek and smiled, rubbing his hand over her belly.

“Then let’s get ye both fed. Always a pleasure, Frankie.”

###

A week later, Jamie and Claire were out shopping for the new things they’d need for their little one. They’d successfully picked out the big things: a crib, a car seat, a pack-n-play. Jamie had thought only of the big ticket items they needed and not so much of the accessories. And there were many accessories.

“Oh, look at these little onesies!” Claire cooed at him, picking up all different outfits that seemed much smaller than he thought they would, like they were meant for dolls, not bairns.

Claire had started to wander away and he could see her picking up different items. As he came up next to her, she turned, arms now full of goods, and smiled brilliantly at him.

“Do we need all these things, mo chridhe? And in the different colors?”

She dropped her finds into their cart and looked up at him.

“Yes. Yes, we do. She needs toys and pacifiers and we need bottles in case I need to pump and…”

He leaned over and kissed her to silence her ramblings.

“Alright, we’ll get it all then if he needs it.”

They continued walking around, Claire leading the way and looking at clothing as she went along. She was trying to pick out gender neutral colors, still not knowing the baby’s gender, but it was impossible not to stop and look at the adorable outfits colored in pinks and purples.

Then, she saw them. Two little onesie outfits. One, a little black onesie that was made to look like a suit. It had a tie printed on it with a “white” shirt underneath it. The other was a pink onesie with a tutu sewn onto it and sequins decorating the entirety of the front. She was drawn to them like a moth to a flame and Jamie dutifully followed behind her.

She picked them both up and turned around suddenly, fixing Jamie with a hard stare.

“Remember when you didn’t want to find out the sex of our baby and I told you I would wait because I love you and also because I had to so you wouldn’t find out accidentally and we compromised? Well I’ve decided that this is the other half of that compromise and since I don’t know for sure what this baby is, I want both of these.” She looked up at him, steely eyed, and held up both outfits to him. “And I want some nachos.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at the determined pout marring her face.

“Aye, aye. Alright, we’ll get both then.” He kissed the top of her head and sighed, pulling her close into his side. “And then we’ll find ye some nachos.”

“Spicy nachos,” she corrected, looking up and batting her lashes.

“Spicy nachos,” he chuckled. “We’ll find ye the spiciest nachos around and then I’ll rub yer back when ye’ve got heartburn later on. May as well buy some antacids while we’re out too.”

“Such a planner, Mr. Fraser,” she teased, smiling up at him again. “But seriously, the baby and I need some spicy nachos.”

###

Claire had had a rough week. She spent all her time studying for her exit exams, finishing her classes that included a greuling clinical rotation, and working at Springs Preserve. She made sure she still made dinner for Jamie when she got home before him, but she was so tired that some nights he would come home and she’d be asleep, sitting on the couch. He’d gently wake her, get her to eat, and tuck into bed with her, feeling her melt completely into him. That had been the best feeling; Claire’s body completely slack and secure in his embrace.

Late into one night, Claire jerked awake, jostling Jamie in the process. He didn’t fully wake and she tried to still herself, hoping he would continue to sleep. She took some deep breaths and tried to relax. Surely she had been dreaming. Or maybe it was just the baby moving around. When was the last time she'd felt the baby move?

She thought she felt a soft movement against her stomach and rubbed the small spot. But now she wasn't sure that it was a kick.

“You alright in there?” she whispered to her stomach, bending her head low.

No movement answered her and she laid back again, trying to relax all her muscles. The pain she had felt must have just been the baby. Maybe the baby was sleeping now.

A few more minutes passed and just as she was about to drift back into sleep, another pain shot through her. She tried to stifle the groan that accompanied it, but wasn’t successful. It had taken her breath away. Claire started to panic, breathing heavily. She desperately needed to remain calm and she didn’t want to frighten Jamie, but she didn’t know what to do.

“Sassenach?” came a sleepy voice beside her. “Are ye alright?”

As she was about to answer, another pain came and she sucked in a sharp breath. She felt Jamie sit up quickly beside her, reaching out to her.

“Claire? What’s the matter? Is it the bairn? Are ye ok?”

His words came out rushed, the sleep fading from his voice at once. She didn’t realize she was shaking until he pulled her close to him.

“I think…” she started, and breathed in tightly again, pain rippling through her abdomen. “I think we need to go to the hospital, Jamie.”

She tried to keep her voice steady, but her fear betrayed her as her voice cracked. Jamie was already out of bed, pulling his clothes on and getting something for her to put on. She couldn’t move; she felt like she was welded to the bed. ‘This can’t be happening. Not now. Please not now,’ she pleaded silently. ‘It’s not time yet.’

“Claire, I’ve got some clothes for ye,” Jamie said softly, reaching out to help her off the bed.

She moved as if she was in a dream. Everything seemed to be going so slowly.

“I need to pee first,” she whispered as she moved around him to the bathroom.

There wasn’t any blood, but the pain was still coming. Tears filled her eyes and her whole body quaked, trying to keep the intense anxiety from crushing her whole.

“Mo chridhe? Are ye done? We need to go now.”

He heard her sniffle and opened the door. Large blue eyes looked up at him, filled with tears and pure fear. He was able to stifle the sound of distress he felt rising, but only just. She wasn’t able to speak, but he knew what he had to do. He needed to keep calm for her. He needed to be a rock for her to hold on to.

“It’s alright Claire,” he said softly, reaching out for her and guiding her towards the door. “Come on, mo graidh, let’s get to the hospital, aye?”

The drive took longer than Claire thought it possibly could. She knew Jamie wasn’t driving slowly, but it seemed to take forever. All the while she waited to feel something, anything move from inside her. Why hadn't she been paying more attention?

“Can I help you?” the receptionist in the Emergency Department asked.

“Um, yes. My name is Claire Fraser. I’m about 31 weeks pregnant and...I-I have been having some contractions tonight.”

“Alright ma’am, let me get you into a wheelchair and we’ll bring you up to the Birthing Center alright?”

“Yes...yes thank you.”

Jamie helped her into the chair and followed the receptionist to the Birthing Center.

“Here you are. Good luck dear,” the receptionist said, leaving her with the nurses.

“When are you due, hun?” one of the nurses asked.

“March 11th.”

“Who’s your doctor?”

“Doctor Moss.”

“Alright, Melissa is going to take you to a room. Do you think you can pee for us?”

“I’ll try.”

After settling Claire in a bed and getting her hooked up to the monitors, Claire and Jamie both breathed a heavy sigh of relief as they heard the baby’s heartbeat, loud and strong. Claire started to cry softly, rubbing her hand over the swell of her belly in gratitude. She answered all the questions the nurses asked of her and tried to calm herself as much as she could.

About 15 minutes later, a nurse walked into the room with two cups in her hands.

“Claire, how much water have you been drinking lately?”

She blushed sheepishly.

“Probably not as much as I should be. Why?”

“Well, your urine sample shows that you’re incredibly dehydrated. Many times that can cause Braxton-Hicks contractions. Have you been doing a lot of strenuous work?”

“Well I…” She cast a covert glance toward Jamie, who was eyeing her. “Yes probably a little bit. I told you, I’m in nursing school and I have my job as well.”

The nurse smiled at her, a look of understanding on her face.

“I remember what that was like. I'm going to give you some IV fluids and you need to drink these two cups of water. We’ll see if that helps with the contractions. Usually they’ll abate with some hydration and some rest. I know that’s hard with school, but try to do less and sit more. How much more do you have to go?”

“Not too much longer.”

“Well, your doctor wants you to take it easy for a while. We’ll see how the fluids work with the contractions. Baby still looks really good so we’ll just monitor for now and see how it goes alright? Would you like a blanket, Dad? You both look as though you need the rest.”

Jamie smiled at this nurse who was providing all the answers Claire seemed to need.

“No, thank ye though. I’ll be fine.”

“It’s because you’re a furnace,” Claire joked, visibly relaxing and sucking down the water while the nurse started her IV and connected the fluids to her.

The nurse laughed and said, “If you need any more water, let us know alright? I’ll be back to check on you.”

“Thank you,” Claire said.

The nurse nodded and turned to go, but looked back at Claire for a moment.

“I got pregnant in school as well. It’s going to be ok, you know. I know it seems scary and it is really hard, but you can do it.” She had said it softly, conveying it almost as a secret shared between close friends in the night.

Claire’s eyes blurred over and she blinked back tears.

“Thank you,” she said again, softer this time, voice full of gratitude for the gift she’d just been given.

She felt Jamie’s hand entwine with hers and she turned to see him smile at her.

“See, mo chridhe? Everything will be alright.”

Smiling, she accepted his kiss and laid back, enjoying the feeling of Jamie’s hand running through her hair. She drank all the water she was given and was brought 2 more cups.

Eventually, Claire dozed off, but Jamie sat, ever vigilant, watching her for any signs of distress. After about an hour, the nurse came back in. Claire was more than willing to provide them with another sample and not long after, the nurse returned, smiling.

“Your strip looks very good. I haven’t seen any contractions. Have you felt anything?”

“No, they’ve stopped a while back. I actually was able to sleep a bit.”

“Excellent! Your sample was much better this time as well. The doctor has ordered that you can go home, but she wants you to follow up in her office this week, so I want to schedule you in, is that alright?”

“Yes. I’d like to see her too after this.”

“Good. She’s also giving you a note for work and school to try and put you into a lighter duty. And you also need to drink a lot of water. The rest is really important too.”

“I will. And if I don’t, I’m sure he will make sure I am.”

“That’s good. Sometimes we need the people around us to give us a little kick to remember to do things for ourselves.”

Claire smiled at Jamie as she was unhooked from the monitors and reached for his hand as they got ready to leave. He sighed wearily, but returned her smile and pulled her close, tucking her into his side.

“Thank ye for all yer help.”

“Oh, it’s not a problem. Remember, lots of water and lots of rest.”

“I will. I promise.”

###

Back at home and back in bed, Jamie and Claire faced each other, pressed as close as they could be with her belly in between them. Claire was the first to break their silence.

“I was so scared.”

“I know, mo chridhe. So was I.”

“You held yourself together pretty well. I hope you do as well during the delivery,” she giggled softly and reached her hand up to his face, brushing away a stray curl of hair.

“I’ll be just fine, thank ye, Sassenach. You just worry about yerself and the bairn, ken?”

She giggled again at the indignant look across his face and pulled him in for a kiss. She sighed against his lips and pulled back to see his eyes.

“I love you… I love you so much.”

His arms came around her and maneuvered her to lie with her head on her chest.

“Tha gaol agam ort, mo nighean donn. Until the last breath leaves my body.”

Claire nuzzled in further, trying to meld into Jamie’s side and squeezed him softly.

“Even then, I think I’ll always find you Jamie Fraser.”

“Aye, I suppose ye will. Or I’ll find you. A stubborn lot, we Frasers are.”

She heard the smile in his voice and kissed his chest. Then a thought came to her.

“Tha gaol agam ort,” she whispered. He quirked an eyebrow at her.

“Remember the first time you said that to me? In Colorado? And then again before we moved me into that apartment? And you told me it was ‘just words’?”

He nodded slowly, searching her face. She looked up at him with deep sadness, that look she got whenever she got caught up thinking of the biggest mistake she almost made that might have completely separated them. After the night she'd had, worried about their baby, the dam utterly broke. "I'm still sorry for that, Jamie," she croaked out softly, trying to hold in her tears and failing. "I do love you so much. I loved you even then. I was just frightened." "I ken it, Sassenach. Dinna fash about it now. We're here, with each other. That's all that matters, aye?" "Yes, I just… I just wanted… needed you to know. It was the same for me then as it is now. Except maybe now I love you even more." He smiled that bright smile of his at her, the one that made her feel she was staring into the sun, being bathed in warmth and joy. "I've told ye before. It has always been forever for me, mo nighean donn," he replied as he gently moved the hair off her face to kiss her forehead. He wiped the tears from her cheeks and held her closer.

“Lay yer head, mo chridhe, and let’s get some sleep, aye?”

She nodded her head in assent and closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of him as he did the same, burying his face into her unruly curls, breathing deeply. He rested a hand upon her belly and said a silent prayer for his wife and unborn son: Let them both be safe, my beautiful wife and our bairn.