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imagineclaireandjamie · 7 years

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Not an ask but just a bit of kudos, I am really diggin "Tales from the Past". I'm very curious to see if Claire thinks it all a big coincidence and how Uncle Lamb will react to all of the info they find? Thank you for the lovely writing.

Tales From the Past | Part I, Part II

Scotland was unlike anything I had ever seen before. The land was an unbelievable shade of green and more beautiful than I could have ever imagined. The image I had of my witch and whisky maker family fit perfectly within this landscape. The rolling hills leading to towering mountains, and the glistening lakes reflecting the scenery around them gave the air of magic and endless possibilities. The deeper into the Highlands we travelled, the easier it was to see how the Scots, and my Scots in particular, transitioned and settled in the mountains of North Carolina. There was a familiarity between the two, but whereas Scotland felt old and full of legends, the North Carolinian mountains had an air of youthful mystery in comparison.

“Are we there yet, Uncle?” I asked as yet another town flashed beyond the car windows.

“Not yet my dear. We’ll be there in no time at all, just enjoy the scenery. Maybe you could come up with your own legend by the time we get to our destination!” He cheered then went back to humming a nameless tune.

I sighed and looked longingly out the window. I just wanted to be there, I wanted to see their home and find out more. “Are we going to Broch Morda and Lallybroch?” I asked not five seconds later.

“No, Claire.” Uncle Lamb said with authority. “We’re headed to a town called Inverness. My correspondent who can trace their lineage back to Lallybroch itself lives there. She’s more than willing to tell her family stories and that of her husband’s as well.”

“Fine.” I grumbled, “I still wish we were going straight to Lallybroch. Something is pulling me in that direction, we need to go there.”

“Patience my dear, we will get there, just after we’ve heard what these Murray’s have to say.” Lamb winked.

Inverness was beautiful, tucked away at the top of Loch Ness I could see the appeal and history all around, but I was restless.

“How long do we have to be here?”

“Long enough,” He laughed guiding me towards the door. “I thought you wanted to hear the legends?”

I groaned, “I do but I want to go see Lallybroch more!”

“Let’s see what they have to say first. We’ll need their story to help further our investigation, despite your curious insistence!” Uncle Lamb cut me off before I could speak further.

“Fine,” I murmured into my arm that rested on the door. My excitement crushed for a moment.

The countryside blurred by until the faintest idea of a town sprung up in spires and stone.

“Inverness?” I asked looking to at Uncle Lamb. He grinned and nodded, weaving our way through the streets to the tea room where the mysterious Murray’s awaited our arrival.

“Here we are, m’dear!” Lamb exclaimed throwing the car door open. “Would you get my satchel from the boot? We may need to take photographs and extra pens and paper! You never know what all they’ll have or have to say!”

His excitement was contagious and I felt my own lift to a nervous bubble. I still longed to see the fabled home, but deep down I knew I needed to hear what the Murray’s had to say.

“Are you Quentin Lambert?” A tall and lanky man with jet black hair and gray eyes asked as he approached our car.

“That I am! You must be Alexander Murray,” Lamb greeted, clasping the man’s hand.

Mr. Murray chuckled and nodded. “Aye, and this is my sister Jennifer.” He gestured to short girl with the same black hair and gray eyes.

“We’ve already got a kettle on, please join us inside.” Her smile was kind, but wary.

“Claire! Don’t forget the books!” Uncle Lamb called from over his shoulder absentmindedly as he entered the quaint stone building.

I took a moment to breathe in my surroundings. The bustle of people and their cars contrasting against the ancient stone buildings. If I closed my eyes and blocked out the modern sounds I could believe I was there when it all began. I could feel the clean Scottish air as it wrapped itself around me and those on the streets, smell the the roasting meats from taverns and hearth fires as well as fresh bannocks and bread, and I could imagine the sounds of wagon wheels and horse’s hooves on cobble and splattering mud. My imagination took me to a world where I could imagine my whisky making Scot walking down the street, and with a swish of a kilt he was gone.

“Miss Beauchamp?” I jumped, startled, my eyes flying open as the pack fell to the street. “Och, sorry. I dinna mean to give ye such a fright. Yer uncle was asking for ye. I came to fetch ye inside.”

My cheeks reddened from getting caught in my fantasy. The real world felt foreign and distant compared to where my mind had just held me. I slowly retrieved Uncle Lamb’s bag and followed Jennifer Murray inside.

“Claire! Claire! There you are, what kept you? No matter, you really must hear what young Mr. Murray has told me about his family! There was a tale that originated from a great uncle of sorts, and that very uncle could be the James Fraser we are striving to find! But I’m very much more fascinated in this enthralling tale of a cave, espionage and freedom! Please, come sit. Sit and listen!” Lamb managed to get all of this out in a single breath, his face red, but eyes alight with excitement. I noticed his hands were already ink-stained and smudged, his left worst of all.

“Breathe Uncle.” I said, laying a hand to his shoulder. “I’m sure Mr. Murray doesn’t wish to recount the tale again.”

“I dinna mind at all! Would ye like some tea before I start?” Alexander Murray gestured to the barely touched tray of tea and shortbread.

“Yes, thankyou.” I replied, pouring my own cup and grabbing a biscuit.

“As I was telling your very enthusiastic Uncle, my family has many tales and legends as does most here in the highlands. But one, we can go so far to say, is one of the more famous ones.” he said lowering his voice with a wink. “This one legend was said to be the Laird of Broch Tuarach during the uprising of Prince Tearlach in 1745. It’s said that the Laird was spared at the battle of Culloden or most likely escaped the clutches of the British and fled back to his homeland. His hair was a fiery red, easily spotted and gave him little chances to hide. My–” he paused and then gestured to his sister, “–our great-great-great grandmother was this Laird’s sister. She hid him in a priest hole that her recently dead sister-in-law had told her to build. You see the Laird’s wife was a Sassenach and a faerie.

“The folk in the highlands were wary of her and her healing abilities, even though the laird loved her more than life. She was among those caught in the crossfire of Culloden. The Laird being so distraught had nearly given up the will to live and when he was well enough to stand, decided to hide in the hillside to better protect his family.”

“Och! You’re tellin it wrong Sawny!” Jennifer interrupted.

“Och aye? Am I? Weel why dinna you tell it then and let me save my voice!” he said and smugly crossed his arms and legs into a relaxed position.

“I will then!” She settled herself deep into her chair.

“As my brother said, our great-great-great grandmother was the sister to the Laird who became legend, and it is from her that we get our story. Before the days of Culloden and the blackened soul of Prince Tearlach set this bonnie nation into strife, the Murray’s and Fraser’s lived peacefully on the estate. The young Laird had taken a faerie to wife, but all that knew her well enough said she was kinder than of any fae, and that she loved the Laird and his family to the ends of time. It was when she caught a vision of great strife and suffering for her beloved’s people, she told her good sister to plant crops that would yield a great amount, and prepare hidden storages including a priest’s hole under the kitchen cellar. The fae and her husband rushed out to protect the people and try to stop the horror she had seen from coming to fruition.

“They had earned the trust of Prince Tearlach, and made their way into his inner council. Night after night, day after day, the Laird tried to convince the Prince of his doomed cause, but to no avail. The horror still approached and overcame the people of this good nation. Killing thousands, destroying homes and the highland culture at it’s roots. The faerie wife, so distraught at the destruction of her adopted home, begged for her people to save the Scots, to turn back time and not let it happen, but they didna answer. Instead, it’s said she curled up on a faerie hill just outside Inverness and died of a broken heart. Unable to save her beloved nor her new people, and the old ones wouldnae have her back.

“However, the Laird did survive! He made his way home to Broch Tuarach where his sister tended to his physical wounds, but nothing could take away the pain he felt at the death of his wife. He hid for months in the priest’s hole, listening to raid after raid from the British soldiers and he could have it no more. He was too much of a danger to his family, and he couldna bear to lose another part of his heart. One night, he hid himself deep into the caves of the hills that surrounded his property with naught but a dun bonnet to his name. Just far enough that he would pose no danger, but close enough that if he was needed, he could be called upon. For seven years he hid by himself in the caves, coming out at night, clad in brown from head to toe, hiding the flames of his hair under bonnet and cloak of night to deliver fresh meat of his kills to his people and family.

“The Laird’s most faithful servant would risk his life week after week to bring the Laird fresh ale, clothes, and news of the town and of his family when the laird could not make his way down the mountain. On a day, not unlike today, where the sun shone high and the temperature mild, the servant raced up the hill bringing his lairdship fresh supplies, only to be stopped by a wicked cluster of British soldiers. They accused the lad of stealing and chopped his hand off for his crimes, then stole the Laird’s supplies for their own gain. Outraged the Laird tended the lad as best he could in the cave before taking him to the estate for proper healing. It was then the Laird decided that his time in the caves were at an end. He had to stand, he needed to fight the cruelty and oppression being imposed on his people.

“Seven years since the uprising, and there was still a traitor’s reward for the Laird. The laird asked his brother-in-law to turn himself in, grab the stirling reward and feed the family and people he could no longer protect.”

Jennifer stood up and went to the window. I blinked trying to come back to the world around me. The tale she had spun so vivid in my mind, like that was the true reality and not this tea parlour.

“What happened to him? The Laird?” I asked, desperate to hear more.

She turned, the light a halo around her silhouette, “The Dun Bonnet Laird went to prison to save his family. If you go back to our family’s ancestral home and speak to the locals they may tell you of him in a different way, the story altering from family to family. But one thing is for sure, they say on the old fire feasts, ye can see the Dun Bonnet standing at the mouth of his cave, keeping his vigil for all who are under his protection.”

#Tales from the Past #The Dun Bonnet's Tale #featuring: uncle lamb #featuring: jenny and ian's great great great grandchildren #claire is one step closer to finding jamie #only two more chapters after this!#;mod wtt #shortiemcbealle

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gotham-ruaidh · 3 years

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motionless upon the air (ii)

Follow up to this story

And no one showed us to the land And no one knows the where's or why's But something stirs and something tries And starts to climb toward the light…

– Pink Floyd, Echoes (1971)

By the time they were in sight of the Big House, the little boys broke into a run. Germain raced ahead, clearly trying to best Aidan – and abandoned their basket of clay. Jem for his part tried to keep up with his cousins as much as his wee legs could carry him. But he rapidly tired, and gratefully relaxed against Bree’s shoulder as she scooped him up for a snuggle.

“I think we have a very tired bairn on our hands,” she smiled.

Jamie nodded, gracefully picking up the abandoned basket. “Aye. Let’s see if Missus Bug can find him a wee bit of honey to thank him for his help.”

Germain’s shrieks of joy – of triumph – echoed across the green. Aidan sank onto the steps, panting. And as Bree and Jamie and Jem drew closer, Ian emerged from the Big House.

“Uncle!” he exclaimed, quickly darting down the stairs to take one of the baskets Jamie had shouldered. “Did ye carry both of those all of this way?”

“Our help decided to abandon us in the home stretch,” Bree said quietly, mindful of Jem. “Can you leave the baskets just here by the stairs? I’ll have Roger help me get them up to the new kiln.”

“And this one too,” Jamie added, handing the second basket over to his nephew. “I need to have a word wi’ Marsali about Germain and responsibility.”

“Weel you’re in luck, Uncle – she and the wee bairn are here.”

“Are they all right?” Brianna and Jamie asked in unison.

Ian nodded. “All is weel – just here for a check-up.”

“Aye. Claire said that Henri-Christian is healthy. Though she doesnae have any experience wi’ a bairn like him.”

Ian stepped a bit closer, voice low. “Is it…not common in your time, cousin?”

Brianna shifted a now-sleeping Jem. “I’ve seen dwarfs before, if that’s what you’re asking. Even went to university with one.”

“University! You?” Ian’s disbelief was clear.

Jamie smiled proudly. “Aye – women have more ability to do such things in the future, lad.”

“What I mean, Ian,” Brianna continued, “is that they are still not uncommon in that time. They lead perfectly normal lives. But that’s with the medical care in the future…I’m sure Mama is worried about what extra care he may need.”

Ian nodded, considering. “Well then. I’m sure Marsali will be happy to see you both.”

Indeed Marsali was – positively beaming at the sight of them.

“And how’s the wee one?” Jamie held the baby so gently, sitting next to Marsali on the bed in Claire’s surgery, touching his thumbtip to Henri-Christian’s cheeks and chin and nose.

“He’s braw,” Marsali smiled. “Much more so than my other bairns at this age.”

“He’s breathing well – I was worried that there would be some kind of obstruction, given the size of his head.” Claire smiled from behind her work table, folding a pile of freshly boiled bandages. “But he’s perfectly made.”

“Aye.” Marsali smiled again, squeezing Brianna’s hand, watching Ian quietly play with her daughters on the other side of the room. She paused for a moment, choosing her words.

“Thank you – all of you. For loving us. Loving him.”

Jamie turned to his daughter incredulously. “Why would we no’ love him, lass?”

Marsali’s eyes filled with tears.

Claire set down her bandages and knelt before her daughter. “We love you. We love him. We are at your side, every step of the way.”

“Yes,” Brianna echoed, wrapping an arm around her sister.

“We will protect him wi’ everything we have.” Ian’s voice rang clear and true from across the room.

“He is a Fraser, after all,” Jamie added.

---

“Sassenach?”

Claire looked up from her casebook. “Ah. They’ve left, then?”

Slowly Jamie stepped into the surgery, carefully holding two mugs. “Aye – Bree and Jem and Ian went to take the clay to the new kiln. Mister Bug is taking Marsali and the bairns back to their cabin. Missus Bug is out in the barn.”

He sank into the chair on the other side of her table, set down the mugs, and pushed one towards her. “That leaves you and me in this big house. Wi’ the ale that Mister Bug brought back from Cross Creek on his last trip.”

She smiled. Lifted the mug in a toast.

“To peace and quiet.”

He clinked the mug against hers. “Aye. What’s that you’re writing?”

She took a sip of ale. “I’m keeping very close track of Henri-Christian. He’s meeting all of his milestones. He’s sleeping and eating well. He’s a bit smaller than a typical newborn, but…”

“But he’s no’ typical.”

Claire pursed her lips. “No.”

Jamie sipped his own ale. His eyes drifted across the room. Focusing on one particular drawer.

“Claire?”

She set down her quill. “Yes?”

“A long time ago you promised me honesty.”

She quirked an eyebrow.

“And I promised it to you, too. We vowed that whatever words pass between us – that they be honest words. Because honesty has room for secrets, but no’ for lies. Do you recall?”

“I do,” she said quietly.

“Well then. Be honest wi’ me.”

“About Henri-Christian? Physically he should be fine. Mentally he may experience delayed development. Socially, he’ll be an outcast if he ever leaves the Ridge.”

“Be honest wi’ me,” he repeated, watching her face so carefully.

She frowned. “I am being honest with you. Without the love and care of his family, he will not lead a happy life.”

He set down his mug and pointed at the drawer. “Be honest wi’ me,” he said for a third time.

Christ, her glass face showed everything.

She held his gaze. “What are you asking me?”

“Why are you using the ether, Claire? Be honest wi’ me.”

She opened her mouth – then closed it.

“Be honest wi’ me.”

Tears welled in her beautiful eyes. “I need it to sleep.”

“Be honest wi’ me, mo nighean donn.”

Her hands balled into fists on top of the table. “Because I bloody can’t stand the pain and the memories and FUCKING ALL OF IT!”

She leapt to her feet. Enraged.

“I CAN’T SLEEP!”

He rose.

“I SEE HIM EVERYWHERE!”

She raised her arms – her fists – and whirled them in the air.

He stood still.

“I’M STRONGER THAN THIS!”

She ripped the pins from her hair. Her curls sprung free, framing her face – now beet red, streaked with tears, contorted in pain.

“I’M SO ANGRY, JAMIE. WHY? WHY?”

She sank back into her chair, shrinking in on herself. Arms and back bent, cradling her head.

He sat, too. But kept his distance.

“Why are you angry, Claire?”

“Because I know how dangerous it is for me here, Jamie. I’ve known that since Cranesmuir. And still I acted the way I did. Doctor Rawlings...” Her voice was so soft, so broken, and it shattered his heart. His arms ached to hold her.

“Did you think you could fight him – fight them – wi’ nought but your bare hands? You ken that’s impossible.”

Adso wandered into the room, miaowing.

“I’ve said this to you once before, Claire, and I’ll say it again. You think I dinna curse myself every day for what happened to you?”

“But why can’t I just put it in the past? Why do I go back there, in moments when I’m in my garden or with our family?”

He sighed. Spread his hands out on the table, eyes tracing the lines of his scars. “Do you no’ remember a conversation we once had in Paris, when I said the same thing to you, Claire? Do you no’ remember that night when we tried to lie together, and I saw him instead of you in the bed wi’ me?”

She sat up straighter, eyes cast down. “Of course I remember,” she whispered.

“It will fade with time. But the ether, Claire…”

She rubbed her face with her hands, candlelight glinting off of her silver ring.

“It helps you run away. I understand. But you cannae run away. Because the ghosts will catch up wi’ ye if you do.”

“I didn’t want you to know.”

“About the ether, or about the memories?”

She sighed, so deflated. “Both. I don’t want to bring you back to your own memories.”

Softly, carefully, he reached across the table to touch her elbow. “I can bear it. Help me bear yours, Claire.”

“We fought so hard to free you of that, Jamie. I won’t – ”

“I’m no’ asking you, Claire. It’s a miracle what you’ve done wi’ the ether. But what if one moment you are so upset that ye make a mistake before you use it? What if you cannae wake up? Claire – ”

The anguish in his voice jolted her – and she looked straight at him. Watched the tears fall down his cheeks.

“Claire, it takes just the once. I’ve lost you before, and it killed me. I dinnae want to go through that again. Please, for my sake, if no’ for your own. For the sake of your husband, and your family who loves you. Please stop. Please.”

“Jamie – ”

“I dinnae remember much of Wentworth. But I do remember one moment so, so vividly.” His eyes clouded. “I was on the floor, and covered in straw and spunk and blood. I had been sleeping, but then I woke up. I thought I’d be out of the dream and back in bed wi’ you at Lallybroch. But there I was – on the floor, wi’ Randall on the cot, watching me. I kent I would die in the morning. And I felt it, deep in my bones, that you were dead and gone.”

She knelt before him, and took his hands. Stiff. Cold as ice.

“I felt my soul leave my body. For to be in a world wi’out you in it, Claire – ”

“Jamie. Jamie. I’m here.”

“Please don’t use it again, Claire. Please. Please. Let me share your pain.”

She squeezed his hands, and he tried to stand but instead stumbled to the floor. Somehow her head ended up tucked against his shoulder, and his arms wrapped around her so tightly that she could barely breathe.

“Please,” he whispered. “Please.”

“I won’t,” she vowed, kissing the sweat in the crease of his neck. “I won’t.”

He tightened his arms around her even further, his body shaking with sobs.

“I love you,” he gasped. “I love you.”

She tried to pull back. “Breathe.” She loosened one arm to touch his clammy forehead. “Breathe. Jamie -you’re having a panic attack. Breathe. I’m here. Easy. Easy.”

He released her but still gripped her shoulder, eyes burning into hers. She breathed in slowly and gently. “That’s right. Follow my lead.”

He did – in and out. In and out.

Slowly, slowly, slowly he settled.

Raised a shaking hand to caress her cheek. Eyes blazing with love.

“Please, Claire. Don’t leave me.”

She turned her head to kiss his calloused palm. “I’m right here. I promise you, I won’t use it.”

“It – it – it – ”

“Sshh. Deep breaths.”

He swallowed. “It doesnae matter where I am, what I am doing. I – I want you to find me, when it happens. I want you to tell me of it. I want to walk that path wi’ you.”

She nodded. “I will.”

“If you cannae sleep, wake me. I’ll sit up wi’ you.”

She nodded. “I will.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

He found her hand, and raised it to his lips, and kissed her silver ring.

Adso wrapped his furry body around Jamie’s leg, miaowing.

“Promise me, Claire.”

She leaned in for a kiss. “I promise,” she vowed against his lips.

#outlander #outlander fanfic #jamie and claire

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anoutlandishfanfic · 3 years

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Sagebrush: Prologue.

Yes, I promise I plan to update my other WIPs...

But like many others I fell in love with 1883 and cannot resist exploring an AU.

The Premise: Claire and Jamie journey into the American West with children Faith (age eighteen) and Willie (age six). There is a healthy measure of peril and doom along the trail. The tale is mostly narrated by Faith but with POV changes now and again to see things through her parents' eyes.

There will be 1883 spoilers if you haven't finished the series!! Proceed with caution.

This prologue mirrors the series opener. I did copy Elsa’s narration verbatim here, but this will not always be the case. I loved this style in the show and how it’s so similar to Claire’s in Outlander. It’s really what drew me to exploring this AU.

HERE IT IS ON AO3

Faith; Near the Colorado State / Wyoming Territory boarder, 1883.

I remember the first time I saw it… tried to find words to describe it… but I couldn’t.

Nothing had prepared me. No books, no teachers, not even my parents.

I heard a thousand stories, but no one could describe this place.

It must be witnessed to be understood.

Blinking once, twice, I tried to rid the sting of smoke from my eyes. They watered fast and the tears trailed down my nose, dripping off onto the unforgiving ground that bit into my cheek. I lifted my head slowly, shaking it in an effort to rid myself of the ear-piercing ringing and the distant screams that floated over the top.

And yet – I’ve seen it and understand it even less than the first time I laid eyes on this place.

The wind fueled the flames engulfing the wagon beside me into a roaring fury, sending bits of charred debris off into the grass. Movement out the corner of my eye caught my attention and I turned in time to see a man fall with an arrow sticking straight out his back.

Some call it the American Desert…

Others, the Great Plains.

Hoofbeats pounded the ground beneath me and a horse passed by on the other side of the wagon, completely unaware of my presence. Its rider whooped and hollered as they came into sight, their bow strung with another arrow and had let it fly all in the time it took me to clamp my hand hard over my mouth to keep from crying out.

But those names were invented by professors at universities surrounded by the illusion of order and the fantasy of right and wrong.

The rider’s back now to me, I slowly brought myself up onto my knees and hiked my cumbersome skirt up out of the way. I scanned the carnage around me – looking for my horse, for my loved ones among the fallen.

To know it, you must walk it… bleed into its dirt and drown in its rivers.

One of the pioneers lay not far from me, face first into the dirt with the hilt of his still holstered revolver gleaming in the cruel sunshine. I lunged towards him, scrambling across the grass on my hands and knees until I was at his side.

Then its name becomes clear.

Gooseflesh rose on my arms and all the air left my lungs as an arrow whizzed past my head and landed mere inches from my hand the very same moment my fingers touched the gun. I had not heard the rider in my haste and he was clearly playing games with me.

It is hell and there are demons everywhere.

I turned to him, keeping my fingers on the smooth wood of the hilt, but not withdrawing it from its place just yet as he shook his head in command.

His face was set in an expression that I could not read beneath the painted lines of war.

My fist clenched around my weapon and he brought his horse a step closer, speaking for the first time, “I said no.”

I set my jaw as I weighed my options – noticing he had an arrow sitting ready on the string of his bow.

“Will you let me go?” I bit out, both rage and fresh tears burning at the back of my eyes.

His gaze did not leave mine as he clearly enunciated, “I will sell you… or I will kill you.”

“You speak English,” I hissed through my teeth. “How can you do this?”

“You speak English… and, no, your people did this,” his brows lowered.

I rose with my own cry of war and turned the revolver on him, firing with perfect aim in the same moment he did. My bullet hit him in the chest and sent him backwards off his horse in a spray of blood just as his arrow went through me.

But if this is hell and I’m in it…

I could see it in me, feel the shaft protruding from my body with my fingers, but felt no pain… nothing within me but the blind rage that now coursed through my body as though it were the blood that now seeped into my clothes.

Then I must be a demon too…

Charging forward in staggering steps, I tried to make every bullet count and knocked three more warriors from their horses before it emptied. I tossed it to the ground with a bellow of frustration and locked eyes with the warrior before me, his weapon raised.

And I’m already dead.

#1883 AU #Outlander #Outlander Fanfic #Outlander AU #Sagebrush AU #Sagebrush Prologue #Sagebrush Ch1

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let-the-dream-begin · 3 years

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In My Daughter’s Eyes Chapter 34: Forever

Chapter 33

Read on AO3

IMPORTANT PLEASE READ: This fic is on a very long hiatus until further notice. Please see the AO3 link for more details. Much love❤️

It was June third, the day after their eleven month anniversary. Claire couldn’t believe it; it was truly almost an entire year since that fateful Saturday at the stables. A year since their hearts and bodies had spoken what their voices dared not say.

He took her down port again, to a restaurant even more extravagant than the one they’d gone to the last time they were there. It was a glorious Saturday night, and Claire was blissfully happy.

Though something seemed off with Jamie.

His hand had done that tapping that he did when he was anxious the entire drive over, and it was his left, always his left, so she could not reach out and take it to soothe him.

“Why, you’re as nervous as you were on our first date,” she’d teased.

“Aye, well.” He’d forced a chuckle, winking at her. “It’s no’ every day ye celebrate nearly a year wi’ the woman ye love.”

She’d laughed, too, not really considering what an odd thing that was to say.

She also hadn’t considered how strange it was to go so all-out when it wasn’t actually a full year yet. She could truly only imagine how extravagant those plans would be.

And anyway…what was there to be nervous about? There wasn’t a single thing they hadn’t shared, a single thing they didn’t know about each other now. Holding his hand as they left the parking meter, strolling down the sidewalk to their reservation, his palm was as sweaty as it had been the night they’d first slept together.

Had he never eaten at this restaurant? Was he worried she wouldn’t like it?

Watching his hand jiggle at his side at a constant loop at the table, Claire put her menu down.

“Jamie. You’re shaking the whole table.”

“Christ, I’m sorry.” He stiffened, reigning himself in. “I didn’t even notice I was doing it.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she said gently. “I’m serious. What’s going on with you? You’re never so out of it when we go out.”

“Nothing’s going on,” he said, and she almost believed him. “I’m alright.”

“You’re about to cause an earthquake with that nervous tick of yours and you expect me to believe you’re alright?”

His lips quirked up in a sheepish grin, and for just a second she caught a glimpse of Jamie again, not the anxious mess she was at dinner with.

“Is something happening with your family? And you don’t want to ruin the evening by bringing it up now? Because I don’t give a damn about the evening. We can leave right now—”

“No.”

Claire jumped a little, wincing at how tightly he squeezed her hand.

“Sorry,” he stammered. “I’m mucking this all up.”

“Mucking what up?”

He sighed. “Nothing is wrong wi’ my family. Nothing at all is wrong. Everything is…perfect. My life hasna been this right since I was a bairn.”

Claire allowed a tiny smile, her eyes glimmering. “Okay,” she said softly, urging him to continue.

“That’s what has me feeling this way, I suppose. You are perfect. Our life is perfect. I suppose this big anniversary is just…I dinna ken. I think I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“Jamie…” Claire shook her head. “There is no other shoe. I’m not going anywhere. Faith is not going anywhere. You’re stuck with us, darling.”

He sighed in relief, and Claire could not comprehend that he would ever think otherwise to the point where he would feel such relief.

“Even when I’m shaking tables and sweating through shirts?”

She giggled. “Yes. Even then.”

He kissed her hand. “Good.”

The rest of the dinner went off without a hitch, though there was still something underlying buzzing through Jamie. She couldn’t wait to get him alone and reassure him the only way she knew how. If he kept this up, she might not be able to wait until they got home. She’d have to find a long, empty dock and drag him to the edge and kiss him senseless anywhere he wanted. She couldn’t stand to see him like this, and she wouldn’t rest until she could see that he was absolutely sure that she was his and his alone.

Forever.

They went to their usual ice cream place, and as they swapped cups and tasted each other’s, Jamie seemed to relax a little bit more, laughing, savoring the flavor like a little boy. That was one of the things she loved most about him. He took nothing for granted, not even the difference between his moose tracks ice cream and Claire’s mint chocolate chip, not even the pigeons and seagulls that watched them out of the corner of their eye the closer they got to the beach.

“I’ll unleash all my unholy power if they so much as peck this ice cream,” Claire said, eyeing a particularly nasty looking little bastard.

“Dinna fash, my lass,” Jamie said gallantly, raising his spoon like Excalibur. “No harm shall befall ye, or yer precious frozen treat. No’ so long as I’m wi’ ye.”

“My hero.” She batted her lashes at him, then craned her neck and puckered her lips, and he obliged her, kissing her soundly.

The farther along the beach they wandered, the less and less people they encountered, and Claire began scouting locations where they could tuck themselves away for even a few moments of privacy. She certainly couldn’t fully have him here, but a few sloppy kisses and heavy touches would do the trick. Her eyes flicked to a dock with a boat on the end, no people to be found on it. She gave him a mischievous look and began tugging him toward it.

“I ken that look well enough,” Jamie said, matching her mischief. “And I’ll no’ be giving in to ye.”

She stuck out her lip in her most convincing pout. “Why ever not?”

“I dinna trust ye no’ to get us arrested for public indecency. No’ with that gleam in yer eye.”

“I’ll be good! I promise.” She stopped tugging so she could press herself flush against him, arching her back just enough that her breasts were the first thing that came in contact with him. “Come on, love…I promise I’ll behave.”

She fully expected him to grab her hips, press his hardness into her with a growl, and accept defeat.

But instead, he just grinned. Not even a smirk, a full-faced grin.

“If ye can catch me, ye can have yer way wi’ me.”

“What—?”

And then before she could blink, Jamie was running, sprinting away from her, kicking up sand in his wake.

“You bastard!”

She hiked up her skirts and chased after him as fast as her bare feet could carry her in the sand. She lost track of how long she spent going after him, but he was not relenting, not letting her catch up. They were both laughing their heads off, whooping, Claire calling after him until her voice was hoarse. He finally stopped, appearing to not be exhausted in the slightest, and she slowed herself to a jog, chest heaving and burning.

“You absolute maniac,” she panted. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

She was laughing as she said it, and he laughed with her, reaching out his hand and taking it when she caught up. He kissed her hand.

“My legs feel like jell-o. You’d better be planning on carrying me back.”

“Aye, of course,” he said automatically. “But I want to show ye something first.”

She cocked a brow skeptically.

“Come on.”

He tugged on her hand, and out of sheer exhaustion, she allowed him to lead the way. They were walking right to a dock, and before Claire could exasperatedly complain that she’d been trying to do the same thing before he started that marathon, she realized.

There were candles lining every step of the boardwalk, a string of lights wrapped around each wooden post along the way. Across the top was a zigzag of more lights, held in place by thin metal poles attached to the wooden posts. She hadn’t seen it, even as she was running right toward it. She’d had her eyes locked on Jamie’s bright red hair all the while, desperate to catch up to him.

“What…what is all this…?” She was still out of breath, and on top of it her breath was gone for an entirely different reason.

He didn’t say anything, just kept his hand laced with hers and continued walking her down to the end of the pier.

“This is beautiful…is this always here…? I don’t understand…”

A familiar humming noise took her out of her dumbstruck admiration of the twinkling beauty, and she whipped her head around. “Jamie…what…?” Squinting, Claire could make out two figures at the opposite end of the pier, and a bouncing little thing in front of them.

Before she could process what was happening, she felt him take her other hand. She turned her head to question him, but was stunned into silence by the look on his face.

He was radiant.

The string of lights painted glowing streaks in his hair and twinkled in his eyes. And God, his eyes…they were bigger than she’d ever seen; she may very well have drowned in them if he didn’t start speaking.

“Claire, I…” His voice broke, and he cleared his throat. The hand that was grasping hers was trembling.

“Jamie…?”

“You are…the most remarkable woman I’ve ever met,” he continued, holding her gaze and squeezing her hand tighter. “The first time I saw ye I was…blown away by how big yer heart was. The way ye looked at Faith, the way she smiled at ye…I knew. I knew ye were special. And I didna realize at the time, but ye’d already crawled into this hole in my heart that was made for you. Both of you.”

Claire’s eyes welled up with tears, and it very suddenly hit her exactly what was happening.

“I know the pain ye’ve seen, mo ghraidh, I know the fear and doubt that plagues ye. But I…” He cleared his throat again, and then lowered himself to the ground, on one knee.

A single tear escaped Claire’s eye, trickling down as her breath hitched in her throat.

“I will never, never stop trying to be worthy of ye, Claire. I swear to ye on my life that I will be a good husband, and…a good father. You deserve to be loved beyond measure. And I…I do, mo sorcha. I love you wi’ every ounce of my being.”

Claire was fully sobbing now, and his thumb rubbed over her knuckles as his other hand reached into his pocket.

“So will you, Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp, make me the luckiest man in the world?” He opened the box, revealing the beautiful sparkling ring within. “Will ye marry me, Sassenach?”

Claire could not speak. She nodded vigorously, more ridiculous sobs sputtering from her. Jamie’s strained, concentrated face erupted into the most glorious smile she had ever seen. He leapt to his feet and Claire threw her arms around his neck, and he encircled her waist, lifting her off the ground and spinning her. He exclaimed loudly in Gaelic, laughing joyously, and Claire sputtered her own laughter in between sobs.

He finally put her down, and Claire seized his face in her hands and pressed her lips to his, and he kissed her back passionately. When they pulled apart, Jamie was holding the ring, a small but beautiful rock set within it, and she allowed him to slip it on.

“Oh, love…” she croaked out, and he brought her hand to his lips and fervently kissed the ring.

Something suddenly collided with Claire’s legs, and she cried out a bit in shock. Jamie laughed again as Claire turned around and looked down to see Faith clinging to her legs. Looking up, she could now see that the figures in the distance were Gail and Joe.

“You…” She turned back to Jamie. “You had this all planned, didn’t you?”

Jamie just beamed at her, his eyes glistening with tears. Claire let out a joyous laugh and sank to her knees in front of Faith.

“Hello, lovie….” She wrapped her arms around her and squeezed tight, rocking her gently. “Oh, look at you…” Claire pulled back so she could see Faith, dressed in a beautiful little dress, blue and purple and frilly, white stockings and her perfect little white shoes. When she’d left her with Leina, she was still in her pajamas from the night before, and the plan had seemingly been to leave it that way.

“Look at us, hm?” Claire said, sniffling as she stroked Faith’s hair. “All dressed up? Mummy is going to be married, darling.” Claire’s voice broke, and she laughed through more tears. “See, Faith?” She held up her hand, and Faith immediately began fiddling with the rock. “This means I’m going to be a bride, baby.”

God…I can’t believe it.

A hand suddenly touched her shoulder, and she looked behind her to see that Jamie had crouched down beside her.

“I’ve, ehm, got something for her, too,” he said, his nervousness returning.

Claire’s heart felt fit to burst as her eyes landed on the pink velvet box in his hand.

“With yer permission, Claire…” Jamie took a deep, stuttering breath. “I’d like to ask yer daughter to let me be her father.”

Claire’s chin quivered again, her eyes immediately welling up. She nodded, swallowing thickly, and then fervently kissed Jamie’s cheek before standing up to allow him to proceed.

——

Jamie took a steadying breath before straightening himself out, getting up on his knee the way he’d just done before Claire.

“Hello, wean,” he said. She was fiddling with her skirt and twirling it back and forth, staring intently at its sparkles.

“Faith, a leannan, can ye look at my eyes?” He gently poked her chin with his finger, and she looked up, only to become enraptured by the string of lights above her head.

“D’ye like the lights, Faith?” Jamie flicked her chin with his middle finger, signing light. She giggled and snatched his hand in both of hers. “Ah, ye got me,” he teased, bringing her hands to his lips and kissing them. “I like the lights too, ye ken. Reminds me of our special day in our fairy den. D’ye remember?” She hummed a bit, freeing one of her hands from his grip to flap it, saying fairy

“Aye, that’s right. Very good, Faith.” He took her hand again in hopes of keeping her attention. “I had lots of fun that day, Faith. In fact, I have lots of fun whenever I’m with ye. Because ye’re a very special lass. D’ye ken that?”

She started fiddling with the wee hairs on his hands, giggling to herself.

“I asked yer Mummy a very important question, Faith. I asked her if she wanted to be my wife. And I gave her a special present to celebrate, a very pretty ring. D’ye like the ring?” She nodded absently, still twirling the little hairs. “Well, I’m glad to hear it. Because I’ve got a special present fer you, too.”

That got her attention. She whipped her head up and looked at him, humming and then opening her mouth with an excited groan. Jamie chuckled softly and held the box up to her. She stroked the velvet box with her hands before pressing her cheek into it, likely enjoying its softness.

“Lovely box, is it no’?” he teased, and then gently lifted her chin to pick her head up off the box. “Let’s look inside, aye?”

Before Faith could snatch the box again or get upset, he popped it open.

“See what I’ve got for ye? Look.” He let Faith take it in her hands. “It’s a crown, see? And look what it says. F-A-I-T-H.” He signed each letter to her as he said it. “Faith. That’s yer name, aye?” She hummed, biting her lip with her smile. “Princess Faith, it says.

“D’ye ken that I love ye, Faith?” His voice got tight, his eyes welling up. “I think I fell in love wi’ you just as quickly as I did yer mam.” He tucked a curl behind her ear. He kept his hand there, cupping her cheek, as he signed I love you with his free hand. “See, a leannan? I love you.”

Faith gave a high pitched, squealing giggle, bouncing as she returned the sign. Jamie uttered a breathy laugh, a single tear trickling down his cheek. He heard a tiny sob from above him, and wasn’t surprised to feel Claire’s hand grasp his shoulder.

“Good girl, Faith,” Jamie whispered, rubbing a circle on her cheek with his thumb. “It makes me verra happy that ye love me, too.” He signed happy, smiling widely. “Are ye happy, Faith?” She hummed, jiggling her hands and nodding. “Good, good lass.” He sniffled, blinking away more tears, reaching to his own shoulder to cover Claire’s hand in his.

“I promise to always love ye, and protect ye, and do right by ye, just as I will yer mam.” He gave Claire’s hand a squeeze. “Will ye be my wee princess, Faith?” He poked a finger at the necklace, his fingertip cooling at the touch of the metal. “Will ye let me be yer Da?” He spread his fingers, poking his thumb to his forehead.

Faith hummed and jiggled a bit, but Jamie held the sign patiently. After a few seconds, she giggled, and then copied him exactly, thumb on forehead. Fingers splayed.

Da.

Jamie laughed out loud, fit to burst with joy. He released Claire’s hand to wrap his arms around his wee girl, and Joe and Gail broke into applause. He felt Claire fall to her knees beside him, and his heart cracked open to hear her openly weeping. He folded her into his embrace as well, and she pressed her face into the crook of his neck, fisting his jacket in one hand, caressing Faith’s curls in the other.

“Oh, Jamie…” she blubbered against his skin. “I love you…”

“I love you, too, mo chridhe. Wi’ my whole heart.”

When the three of them finally released each other from their embrace, Jamie freed the necklace from the box and fastened it around Faith’s neck. She rubbed it between her fingers, pulled it up and rubbed it on her cheek, and jiggled it in her hands.

“It’s beautiful, Jamie,” Claire breathed against his neck.

“D’ye think she likes it?”

“She does.”

“D’ye think she…understands?”

They looked at Faith for a moment, grinning from ear to ear as she fiddled with her necklace.

“I think she does.” Claire pressed a kiss into the crook of his neck. “If nothing else, she knows that you love her, Jamie.” Claire met his eye and held up the sign, trembling lips curling into a smile. He repeated the sign, touching their fingers together as he’d often seen mother and daughter do, and their foreheads rested together. “And she loves you, too. She doesn’t say what she doesn’t mean.”

A tear slipped from Jamie’s eye and trickled down Claire’s nose, and they kissed one another sweetly, I love you’s still pressed together.

Gail and Joe suddenly got closer, calling Faith over to them. Jamie broke into a wide grin, watching from the corner of his eye; the last part of the plan was nearly complete.

“Go on, baby,” Gail said. “Go put them on, just like we practiced.”

Faith scampered back to them, bounding and skipping and squealing with glee. Jamie exchanged a look with Claire, who seemed utterly bewildered, and who somehow looked completely and utterly beautiful, even red and swollen from tears of joy.

Jamie ducked his head and allowed Faith to clumsily place the hat atop his head, and then watched as she plopped the one with the bow on Claire. Faith squealed again and jumped up and down, clapping her hands in triumph and then flapping relentlessly.

“What on Earth…?” Claire turned to look at Jamie, and then burst into laughter.

Faith had put Mickey Mouse ears on them both — well, Minnie Mouse for Claire if you accounted for the red bow.

“D’ye no’ find me rather dashing?” he teased, and Claire laughed all the harder. “Here. Look.”

Jamie removed the hat, and Claire did the same, then Jamie held them side by side. Claire exhaled with a breathy laugh, leaning her cheek into Jamie’s shoulder as she read the words that Jamie had had embroidered onto the backs, his and hers respectively:

I asked

I said yes!

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jamiemackenziefraser · 3 years

Text

All That Was Fair

Chapter 35: What Comes Next

Summary: The day after their reunion, Claire and Jamie begin to come to terms with what happened

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Read chp 35 on tumblr below the cut

Previous, master list, next

A/n: *Deep breath* Surprise! 🤗🤗 I’m back :))

More a/n: Hello.... it's me :) Remember these guys?

If you need a quick "previously on ATWF"... After discovering that Claire was cut off from her energy source on the human plane, Jamie sent her back through the stones and began to face life without her. Several weeks later, Claire miraculously appeared in his garden. By giving up her place among the fair folk, she had received an opal that connects her to the fair plane, allowing her to go back through the stones to the human realm and back to Jamie. And finally, there was the reunion and long awaited wedding night.

I've missed you all and I've missed writing these two precious bbs. Thank you so much for sticking around for these past two months!! Without further ado, let's begin with the intermediary chapters before arc III picks up!

Chapter 35: What Comes Next

***

Jamie Fraser’s wife was perfect. Laying beside him in bed, her features relaxed in sleep and bathed in the soft morning light, Jamie couldn’t take his eyes off of her. His gaze trailed down, taking in the softness of her bare skin covered only by the sheet. Skin like pearl.

She was exquisite. The memories of the night before flooded his mind, and he couldn’t help but smile to himself.

It took all his willpower not to reach out and touch her. Claire was a light sleeper, and his touch would certainly wake her. But after all she had been through, Jamie couldn’t possibly have disturbed her rest. He would simply wait and content himself with the image before him of his wife… his wife… safe in bed beside him. Perfect. Even the simple rhythm of her breaths was music to his ears.

The heartache of the last few weeks seemed so distant. As if he was invincible and nothing could touch him. That was all in the past, and nothing could shake his contentment at present.

He would have happily stayed there and memorized every wrinkle and freckle and divot on her perfect face, but his bladder had other plans. Gingerly, Jamie slid himself out from under the sheet and off the bed before padding his way into the bathroom. He went about his business with the lazy contentment of someone who had all the time in the world.

His heart felt so full.

As he returned to the bedroom, he stretched out his arms, feeling his muscles ache with just the slightest amount of soreness. The gardening of the previous day felt like a lifetime ago. He sighed and let his eyelid close in a contented heavy blink.

He had just rounded the corner into the bedroom when the serenity shattered around him like a balloon popping.

The bed was entirely empty.

His heart leapt to his throat and panic brought the blood rushing to his ears.

Claire wouldn’t have left his bed. There was no way. She never rose before him, and especially after the separation, she would never have left without him. There was nothing for her to do in the house without him, no possible explanation....

His stomach lurched and bile rose in his throat.

The grief that had felt so distant crashed down around his ears in an all too familiar wave. He found himself staring once again into the darkness, and it stole his breath.

Staring at his bed, the sheets tangled only on one side and no imprint of Claire on the second pillow, the tears began.

His head was shaking back and forth without conscious decision.

Panic seemed to freeze his body and steal his mind. The only thought in his head was “gone. She’s gone.”

He couldn’t survive being alone again. He’d barely survived sending her back, and to have lost her so soon after getting her back... he would simply lay down and die.

His limbs wouldn’t move beyond the tremors that had started to travel through his muscles. He couldn’t seem to tear his gaze from the room, its emptiness heavy and apparent. The perfection of Claire’s light was gone, leaving the world in monotone greys and blacks once again. That brokenness in the pit of his stomach...

Alone.

He whirled on his heel, his body suddenly bursting into action with the need to do something— anything to run from the debilitating chasm that lay in front of him— when he came face to face with a wide-eyed and startled Claire at the top of the steps.

The air was punched out of him, and immediately he was in front of her and crushing her to his chest. He squeezed her to him with enough force that it was probably extremely uncomfortable for her, but he couldn’t seem to stop. His lungs were hitched in panicked breaths as his hand found the back of her head and he pushed it against his chest, holding her safe against him.

She was there. Real and whole. In his arms.

Claire was quite apparently startled. She had only just brought her hands up to hug him in return and was beginning to slide them up and down in back in confused reassurance.

He buried his teary face in the top of her curls and let out a shaky exhale, trapping her even closer to him.

“Jamie?” came her muffled voice from against his chest.

He felt her body was tense with concern, and he had to force himself to calm the raging storm of emotion inside before he overwhelmed her. Her hands were flat on his back now, and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was sensing his turmoil and worried out of her mind.

“I came back to find you gone, and I…”

“You thought you’d lost me again,” she whispered in understanding, sounding sympathetic without any judgement.

They were both quiet for a second, and she melted against him, allowing him to hold her close.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” she breathed, “I just woke up and you weren’t there, so I went downstairs to look for you.”

Jamie shook his head, his face brushing against her curls. “It wasna yer fault. I jes’ lost my mind for a minute,” he chuckled breathlessly. His fear betrayed him, causing his voice to tremor.

Claire drew back, and his knee-jerk reaction was to tense in alarm.

“Come here,” she said softly, taking his hand in hers.

She led him back into the bedroom and sat him down on the edge of the bed before joining him. Claire never once let go of his hand, and her thumb brushed across his knuckles as she looked into his eyes with a searching look.

“You didn’t lose your mind,” she said, voice thick with understanding, “these last few weeks… they must have been torture for you.”

She went quiet then, intentionally leaving space in the silence, and looked at him expectantly.

“It was,” Jamie breathed in barely a whisper, dreading sending his mind back to that dark place. But he knew he needed to get it out, and she knew it too. “I... “ he couldn’t continue as his voice caught in his throat. He swallowed and tried to start again. “I was alive, but I wasna living. I didna want to go on.”

She was trying to keep herself under control, but his words had sparked fear in her eyes. And rightly so.

“I didna hurt myself...” Jamie tried to allay her worry, “but I wanted to. I wished I could end it all sometimes....”

It was like he was standing in that darkness once again, facing down his loneliness with nothing more than the memory of her to keep him going.

Her free hand moved to stroke up and down his bicep. Warm and comforting. He took a breath.

“Losing you and continuin’ on… was the hardest thing I’d ever done…” Jamie said shakily, “and I dinna ken… when I came back to the room and ye werena there… it was like I was in that place all over again. I jes’...”

“I understand,” she said gently.

Her whisky eyes were soft and warm, inviting him into a place of safety. He felt himself crumble like some ancient wall, and his body slumped forward.

She was ready for him, opening her arms and bringing him close. His face pressed against her chest and his arms came around her waist to hold on tightly. He felt her hands hold his head against her for a second before they began to card through his curls.

He cried then, releasing the pent up emotion— the heartache of her loss, the fear of going through it again, and the overwhelming relief of her presence. He let it all out as his tears stained her dress.

All the while, Claire was whispering to him and pressing intermittent kisses to the top of his head.

“It’s alright,” she was breathing, “I’m here. We’re here. And I’m not going anywhere. Nothing could take me away from you now. Nothing.”

He found himself squeezing her tighter as he relished her closeness. The scent of her— like roses under the morning dew— filled his senses. It soothed him in a way words never could because it was such a concrete reminder of the reality of her.

Holding her close, he could dare to breathe. The wall he’d hastily rebuilt in those jarring few minutes where he had thought he’d lost her came down piece by piece. He listened to her heartbeat under his ear and focused on the feeling on her hands running through his hair with such gentleness.

She was with him. She was safe.

After a long while, when his tears dried in his eyes and the darkness had faded back into only memory where it had no power, he drew back.

To his surprise, when he straightened up, he found Claire’s eyes to be red-rimmed and tears leaking down her cheeks.

“Oh, mo nighean donn.” His heart broke into a million pieces, and this time, he was the one reaching out for her and pulling her against his embrace.

“I’m alright,” she said, but her voice was choked, “I'm okay.”

“You dinna have to be okay,” Jamie replied gently as he tightened his arms around her, “ye ken that?”

She was quiet for a while, seeming like she wasn’t ready to argue with him but also didn’t agree. So, she would need a little prodding…

“I wasna the only one who had tae face the world alone…”

Claire shook her head where he had it pressed against him. “But I had something to hold on to, hope for going back. I was on a mission.”

“That doesna mean ye werena sufferin’,” Jamie countered.

He felt her resolve weakening. Her tears were wetting his shirt collar and her hands were clutching his sides, betraying the truth of her hardship that she was holding inside herself.

“I was so scared,” she whispered after a long moment, “so scared that I wouldn’t be able to do it. That it would all be for nothing.”

He let her speak, stroking his hand over her curls and trying to keep his breathing steady.

“I thought sometimes… that I wouldn’t be strong enough. And that I would just lay down and never get up again and that would be better than spending another moment without you,” she finally said.

“You did do it, mo ghraidh,” Jamie responded, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotion, “thank Christ, you did it and you made it back.” It was a wash of relief to say those words, and he hoped Claire felt the same. Or at least that she could feel his relief.

She didn’t make a move, just quietly rested in his embrace.

Jamie couldn’t help but speak aloud the guilt that was weighing down his heart. “Your people…” he whispered, his voice low and barely audible, “ye lost your place and your people too. That isna a small matter.”

“No,” Claire whispered in agreement, and Jamie could feel her heartbreak in the tenseness of her body, “but I would make the same choice over and over again. I belong with you. I wanted to come back more than anything.”

“Aye,” he had to stop himself as his tongue seem to tie itself together in his mouth, “I ken we’re meant to be together. And I’m so incredibly grateful that ye’re here. I jes’... I dinna want ye to ignore the pain jes’ because you believe it was the right decision.”

She didn’t speak, but she nodded against his shoulder and her breath began to hitch in small sobs.

“That’s it, lass,” he gently coaxed, “Let it out. It’s alright.”

As she cried against him for all she’d lost— for good this time— Jamie allowed his own heart to break with hers. He wept for the pain she’d endured and the bravery she was showing. And he wept for himself too, and for those lost days of his life where he’d lived in despair.

But in the midst of their weeping, there was a sense of comfort. Jamie no longer cried alone, but with the love of his life wrapped in his arms.

Despite everything, they both had the promise that they would never be alone again.

After a long while, after her crying had slowed, his wife looked up at him, drawing back enough to fix her eyes— still glistening with tears— on him.

“We’re a mess, aren’t we?” she suddenly laughed, reaching up to wipe the moisture from Jamie's cheeks with both thumbs.

“Aye.”

He brought his own hands up to frame her face and went to work on clearing the tears tracks.

And there they sat, clinging to each other as if they might slip away at any moment. But they were together.

Alive, whole, safe, and together.

Where the darkness had no place.

***

A/n: I wanted to greet you guys with some gratuitous fluff after the heartwrenching end to the first arc, but I couldn’t move on before exploring the trauma of the separation. We walked with Jamie through an intense period of grief, and it wouldn’t be right to move on without more closure and dealing with the repercussions for them both. This is by no means the end of their coming to terms with what happened, but it is a promise that they’re moving forward together. So now… how does some fluff next chapter sound, eh?

As always, thank you so much for reading, and an extra thank you for your patience and for sticking around!

***

#why does it feel like I’m posting for the first time I’m that nervous #hope you enjoy!!#all that was fair #outlander fanfiction #claire x jamie #update #fae claire #outlander fanfic

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liusaidh-writing · 3 years

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Sneak Peek - Instruments of Flight

The next chapter will be up on Friday, FINALLY! So, here’s a wee teaser.

---

Claire heard the shower start running, then the knob turned. She pushed the door open slowly, seeing Jamie’s naked form step into the shower. She quickly stripped her clothes, leaving them in a pile with Jamie’s. She stepped in behind him, enjoying the warmth of the water as she wrapped her arms around his waist. She pressed her cheek against his back, she felt him relax under her touch. She placed a kiss to his shoulder as she felt his hands grip her own, pulling her closer.

“What happened?”

Jamie was silent for a moment, then sighed.

“Emily - she just won’t listen. I reminded her of the flyover this morning, reminded her that if something happened to her out there, it would take us ages to find her.”

Claire swallowed, feeling the warm water run along her skin in little beads. She shut her eyes, trying to find the right words.

“Please don’t be angry with her. I don’t like seeing you so upset.” She paused, feeling him turn to face her. He enveloped her, his arms holding her tight against his chest. “It worries me too, her penchant for wandering, but… if it makes her happy. She knows enough to stay away from people she doesn’t know, and she certainly knows enough about the virus to be wary.”

Emily wasn’t the one in danger of being found, she wanted to say, though she knew that wouldn’t help, so she kept quiet. Jamie began stroking her hair, swaying them back and forth as though the water were a lullaby. Claire shut her eyes, letting the silence swallow them.

---

#instruments of flight #outlander fanfic #outlander #sneak peek!#coming friday in full! promise promise!

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mymelodyheart · 3 years

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Miles Between Us Chapter 13 ~The Reunion~

WARNING: VERY EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT

Previously in Obstacle Course ...

"Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp! Don't ye dare leave me!" He shouted. "We love each other, remember? I was a prick for leaving ye on yer own when ye came to Scotland to be with me. I promise ye this will never happen again. And whatever problem we have together, we can fix this. Ye understand me?" He fell on his knees, grateful for the pain shooting up his thighs because his heart was breaking into thousand pieces. "I ken I could be a selfless arse, but I'm working on being a better person for ye ...for us. I love ye with all my heart, Sassenach, and I cannae imagine life without ye."

"What do I need to do to make ye, believe me, Sassenach? Ye ken, I'll do anything to prove to ye how much I love ye. Does he ken the things I do? Like ...like what song makes ye smile? I can sing it for ye if that's what it would take." When the silence lingered, Jamie puffed out a silent curse. "Christ ... I'll do it. I'll sing that damn song. Just so ye ken, I meant every word I said."

Then he stood up from his kneeling position and gave Rick Astley a run for his money.

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The full moon illuminated Jamie's and Claire's path as they made their way to the cottage into the cold night. It seemed they were the only two people in the world, walking in comfortable silence, lost in their own respective thoughts, and the only sounds to be heard were their footfalls and the dance of the trees. Inhaling deeply, Jamie pulled Claire into the warmth of his body, gently kissing the crown of her head, and in turn, her arm slid familiarly under his jacket to settle around his waist. For the first time in five days, every cell in his body was alive and buzzing, and it felt amazing to hold and have her close again.

Earlier, after the excitement and stramash outside Christie's apartment building had settled, they'd gone back in search of Quentin. It hadn't taken them long to spot him where he'd leaned on the wall outside the pub working his phone, most probably trying to call Claire. Though Quentin had looked like he could go for a few more round of drinks, to his relief, he hadn't put up much of an argument when Claire had firmly suggested it was time to call it a day. They'd escorted him back to his lodgings, making sure he had everything before heading for home.

It had been a surreal day, and Jamie knew it was far from over. He'd sensed Claire wanted to talk, and who could blame her? They had a lot of things to discuss, but his depraved mind had other ideas. His alcohol-fueled bravado from earlier had long waned to be replaced with an urgency that pulsed heat below his belly. But he swiftly reminded himself to be an attentive boyfriend first and clear the air between them.

After what he'd put himself and Claire through the last few days, he was done being a prisoner of the past and mistrusting the future. Here, at this moment with her, he was whole, and just having her beside him was healing invisible wounds all over his body. He needed her, but her needs came first even though her sweet scent and the sound of her soft sighs were piercing holes in his self-restraint. At nearly midnight, the air was icy cold, and yet, there was a fine layer of perspiration on his skin brought about by the anticipation of being finally alone with her.

When they eventually reached the cottage, Jamie had a hard time giving up her body's warmth to retrieve his keys, so he turned her to face him and locked her in an embrace. Savouring the feel of her, he wondered how the hell he'd managed to keep his distance; moreover, allow her to go to Inverness with Tom.

"Home sweet home," Claire murmured, breaking his thoughts. She made a move to pull away, but he grabbed her hand and pressed his lips to her icy fingers instead. "I think I need a drink," she said, shivering, "It's been quite an eventful night, don't you think?"

Jamie shook himself and nodded. "Aye. It's been a riot." He finally let go of her, quickly fishing for his keys in his pocket and unlocking the door, letting her pass first. They were welcomed by two happy, hyper animals who circumvented him to get to Claire. Ah, wee traitors!

He shut the door and watched with amusement as Claire immediately fell on her knees, her arm going around Rollo's neck while her free hand scratched Adso's back ear. Jamie grinned when both nudged closer and let out chesty whimpering sounds as they were treated to Claire's lovefest.

His eyes landed on her unpacked bags on the floor. She must have left the cottage as soon as she'd arrived. "How'd ye know where to find me earlier? Ye never called," he remarked, divesting his jacket and dropping it onto the chair.

She looked up at him and smiled. "I didn't. When Tom dropped me here, I realised I forgot to hand in some documents for Mary. I kind of figured you might be out with uncle Lamb. So I thought before calling you I'd walk over to Tom's to drop the papers for Mary and well, ..." she shrugged, her eyes twinkling. "I was about to phone you, and who did I find outside Tom's apartment building? My boyfriend serenading Mary Hawkins, no less."

Almost completely sober by now, his head dropped to hide his embarrassment, his pained groan barely subdued in his throat at the reminder of the recent event. "Oh, Christ!"

She stood up, walked over to him and encircled her arms around his neck, forcing him to glance at her smiling face. "I thought you were adorable." She kissed his chin. "And I think Mary was chuffed to bits hearing your love declarations. She'll never leave the Highlands now, what with Tom as her new love interest and you serenading her in front of an audience. She probably thinks she's heaven's gift to Broch Mordha and vice versa."

Her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck made it difficult to concentrate on what she was saying. "Ye should be righteously pissed at me for thinking ye were with Tom. And even if ye were in his apartment, I shouldnae have jumped to conclusions."

She contemplated his words. "We all get our jealous moments," she said quietly. "Well, I certainly do ...at least."

"Ye? Jealous? I only have eyes for ye, Sassenach. Ye have nothing to be jealous about." Then the image of Geneva's kiss came to mind, and his throat tightened. With everything that had happened today, he'd already forgotten about it ...until now. He knew only too well how the truth had its way of coming out, and he couldn't just dismiss it as an afterthought even though it didn't mean a thing. He needed to tell her before she finds out from someone else.

"Geneva," she whispered as if reading his mind. "I heard ..."

"Ye heard what?" She's already heard about the kiss? There was no stopping the weight of dread from settling in his belly. "Whatever stories ye heard about her and me, there's a perfect explanation for it, Sassenach. I can assure ye."

She didn't seem to notice his sudden discomfort nor heard the words he'd just said, her gaze too busy following the movements of her hands as they travelled down to his shoulders and over his chest. "While you were in Lallybroch, Willie came to check up on me once in a while to see how I was fairing. I thought it was rather sweet of him to do that." She cleared her throat. "Anyway, he mentioned something about Geneva fancying you, and that didn't sit well because I know she's your therapist, and Jenny preferred her for you." Her eyes suddenly dimmed. "Oh, God! Why am I even telling you this? It's so primary school."

"Sassenach ..." He brushed his lips to her forehead. "It's not ..."

She visibly shook herself. "No, let me finish. I know it's silly, but I couldn't help feeling the way I did. It was torturous knowing you were suffering, and I could do nought about it. I feared that night when you left, I may have made things worse by pushing you to talk about the past." True to her words, her expression was troubled as she chewed her bottom lip. "You see ...I want to be the one who can make things better for you, but I also recognise there are things about your condition that are beyond my understanding no matter how much I try to help or learn about it." She took a deep breath. "Geneva's your therapist, and she knows what she's doing. Sooo ...I have to put aside my petty jealousy and let Geneva do her work. But it doesn't mean I have to like her or the whole situation. So for the sake of ..."

"No, Sassenach. Stop right there." He dropped his mouth to prevent her from saying more, punctuating his words with a kiss. Their breaths collided, his fingers gripping her shoulders hard and digging into her skin. "Ye have every right not to like the situation. Because I dinnnae like it either." He searched her face, but her eyelids were at half-mast, and her gaze seemingly focused on his lips. He tipped her chin up. "I willnae be returning to therapy. So ye dinnae have to worry about her."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Wot? But why?" She stopped and looked at him suspiciously. "Wait. If this is your way of making me stop seeing Tom, sorry mate, not going to happen. This is work. And I'm not stopping you from going to therapy just because it's Geneva either."

"Woman, will ye let me finish?" He took a few cleansing breaths. "I'll wager ye a pound to a penny that ye willnae allow me to attend the therapy when ye hear what she did."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Why? What did she do?"

"She kissed me."

She stiffened and took a step back. "Wot?" Her expression of softness she had just moments ago made way for disbelief.

He tried to rid the sudden tangle in his throat. "She stopped by today. She said something about wanting to talk about my progress. I told her I was busy. Then she threw herself at me and kissed me. It's nae biggie."

"Nae biggie?!" Her eyes flashed, and her mouth open and closed. And then opened again. "Where did she kiss you? Lips or cheek?"

Her question caught him like a surprise right hook. On any other occasion, he would have probably been amused with her display of jealousy, but the way she was looking at him now, was causing his heart to pound painfully against his ribs. "O-on the lips, but I ...ah ...immediately pushed her away. I swear to God, I did nothing to inspire it."

She rolled her head as if preparing for a fight, and when her eyes landed on the bottle of tequila he and her uncle had been drinking earlier, she made a beeline for it. "On the lips, huh? Did you like it?" She poured herself a healthy measure in one of the used glasses without offering him one and downed it in one go.

Christ! "No!"

"Any tongue involved?"

"Of course not!"

"You sure?" She slammed the glass down on the table, making him flinch.

What the bloody hell? The questions she was throwing at him was making him squirm on his feet, and for the first time, Jamie realised how similar Claire and Quentin were when trying to extract an answer. Both would undoubtedly make great interrogators if ever they'd decided on a career change. "What kind of question is that? The kiss happened so fast, taking me by surprise. I didnae have time to think. She might have tried to put her tongue down my throat, but I stopped her."

"And where did this happen?"

"What do ye mean? I already told ye she stopped by. I was here ...at home."

"I mean, did it happen inside or outside the cottage?"

Jesus! "Outside."

"Outside," she repeated, more to herself.

"Aye, outside. She wanted to come in, but I told her I had things to do and was expecting a visitor ...yer uncle, that is. Anyway, that aside, I didnae think it was a good idea to allow her to come inside, knowing that she's my therapist and fancied her chances with me."

"Hmmm ...so when she threw herself at you, you pushed her away, is that right?"

"Aye."

"Where did her hands go?"

Confusion seeped into his already muddled head. Is this some kind of trick question to catch me of any wrongdoing? "What do ye mean?"

"Geneva's hands. Did it go around your waist, neck or what?"

"Oh, um ...around my neck."

"And what about your hands?"

Huh? "What about them?"

"Where were your hands when she kissed you?"

"They were by my side. The only time I touched her was to push her away from me. Ask yer uncle. He saw the whole thing. I didnae even know he was there."

"And he didn't sock you?"

"Why would he?" he almost shouted. "I didnae do a thing. It was Geneva who initiated it!"

"Fine."

"Fine?" he gasped in confusion.

She didn't answer. Instead, she turned around and took off her jacket. That's it? What the hell just happened? I gave her the truth, and that's supposed to be good, right? Or am I missing something? He followed her strained movement, and he helplessly watched her grabbed her laptop bag and rummaged through it, the silence pulsing around them bordering on awkwardness. This was definitely not how he'd envisioned their reunion, he thought miserably.

"Sassenach," he began, choosing his words carefully. "I can tell ye're upset about the kiss. Ye ken ye've no reason to be, aye?"

She shook her head, refusing to look at him. "No," she agreed, relief washing over him. "I've no reason to." She pulled out sheets of paper from her bag, looked at them and haphazardly stuffed them back in again, seemingly going through the motion of keeping her hands busy.

"Then why are ye cranky all of a sudden?"

She let go of her bag and grabbed the bottle of tequila, sloshing over the rim of the glass as she poured another shot. "I'm not." She grimaced as she threw back the liquid.

"Ye are." When she poured another drink, he frowned at her. "Go easy on that tequila, Sassenach."

Her head spun halfway round in his direction, reminding him of that wee girl in the film, The Exorcist. Her mouth dropped open, and she glared at him.

He forced himself to remain patient. Claire was visibly upset about something, and now he wasn't sure anymore if it had to do with Geneva's kiss. "Sometimes, I associate alcohol with bad judgments and choices," he began calmly. "My own, especially. But ye've helped me make a lot of good ones in the past, and ...I just want to do the same for ye. Talk to me, Sassenach. What's really bothering ye?"

She huffed and balled her fingers into tight fists. "Fine! Do you want to know the truth? I want to start a fight."

"A fight?" He reined in his frustration of not being able to understand and took a step closer to her. "Why would ye wanna do that?"

A deep scarlet soared from her neck to her cheeks as she threw her hands in the air. "The last few days were trying, alright? It wasn't only you who was having a rough time with it. God, I've been worried sick about you. I've been trying to keep it together ever since you left, wondering if I'll ever get to see you before I return to London. And then ...and then," she hiccupped, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle a sob. "One bloody thing led to another. First, I got into a fight with your sister because of some stupid newspaper clipping she had in her possession. Then, not long after that, in the middle of what was supposed to be an important meeting with Tom, my boss dumps the responsibility of babysitting Mary onto my lap, and I had no idea how I was going to manage that with my uncle on his way. Then I got to Inverness, hoping to get at least some work done with Mary to finish her book so I could finally leave London for good and start a new life here with you. And you know what?"

Jamie stood immobile. He longed to soothe her, but he wasn't sure if she wanted to be touched yet, so he waited even though he was slowly dying inside to hold her in his arms.

Her inhale became stuttered, and her eyes darkened with defeat. "I was grasping at straws to keep Mary to sit still long enough to extract a measly one thousand seven hundred words worth of work when I know she could do more in a day. But that's all I got for my efforts because she was too busy galavanting in Inverness with Tom. And speaking of Tom, I still haven't managed to make him sign the contract for his book and when my boss asked me why I couldn't even give him an answer and gave him some lame excuse. The only good thing that came out of Tom is, he convinced Mary to come here. If Tom hadn't been with me, I'd still be in Inverness with Mary. And now ...now I find out Geneva tried to kiss you while I was away. God, I want to scratch her eyes out. But I can't do that, can I? Because she isn't here. So I asked you those dumb questions to find a fault and start a fight because I wanted to vent after the last few days I've had. But even that, I can't do because you've done nothing wrong." She let out a groan of exasperation. "How sad is that?"

Suddenly, it all made sense to Jamie. Claire always put others' needs before hers with no thought for herself. He had to take better care of her. It had been easy to rest all his hopes and fears on her shoulders, and because of it, she was a massive part of his motivation to want more out of his future and be a better man for them. But if they were going to be together, his condition shouldn't always be her fight, and her burdens should be lighter with him by her side and not more. This lass had given him hope, and he's not going to rest until he gave her the same. Until she, too, knew her needs were just as important as everyone else's.

The boyfriend in him wanted to wipe the look of upset in her eyes. Confront the people that pushed her to act out in a way so unlike her usual self. Demand answers to find out what else was troubling her. He sensed, however, that questioning was the last thing she needed. So doing his best to be the protector this time, he opened his arms, relieved when she quietly walked into them. She laid her head on his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist, and he held her, resting his chin on her crown.

After a few minutes of silence, she spoke haltingly. "I'm so sorry, Jamie. I didn't mean to pick a fight. It's just that ...." Her fingers tugged at the edge of his jeans, and he shut his eyes. He could hear the slight slur in her words, making him realise she'd drank tequila on an empty stomach. "The last few days have been mad, and I -I ...oh, hell, never mind. I'm just acting pathetic."

Jamie frowned against her head. "Sassenach, look at me." He drew slightly away and held the sides of her face in her hands, the unshed tears in her eyes crushing him to the core of his being. "First of all, ye have nothing to be sorry about. If anything, Tom, Mary, yer boss, my sister, including myself, owe ye an apology. And ye're no' pathetic and dinnae ever say that about yersel', ever again. Ye do far too much for others, including me, and it's about time ye did something for ye. The rest of the world can wait, and other people getting their act together is no' yer responsibility."

She blew out a breath, bright amber eyes holding his steady.

"As for Geneva, ye have nothing to worry about her. There was never anything between us. I'll talk to my sister and let her know what her friend has done. If Jenny refuses to do anything about it, I will make a formal complaint about Geneva's behaviour to the clinic's head myself. And perhaps, propose a new or my old therapist be reinstated."

"Jamie, I can't be responsible ..."

"Ssshh, Sassenach. Ye're no' responsible for Geneva. She overstepped the boundaries, so it's only right she takes responsibility for her own actions." He pressed their foreheads together and looked her in the eyes. "I chose to be with ye as ye did with me, and I cannae have anyone disrespecting that, no' even Jenny. We're together, and we're supposed to be stronger as a unit. I need to step up my game and be there for ye as ye've been for me. For so long, I was so fixated on my own condition, I ceased seeing other people's difficulties." He pulled back and caressed her cheek with his thumb. "Then I met ye, my feisty wee, Sassenach ...for the second time as a grown-up ...and ye taught me all about selflessness and courage. I want ye to know ye're important ...more important than what I want or what Mary Hawkins wants or what yer boss wants. And the things that hurt ye, they're no less painful than what I go through. Things are gonnae change from now on, and it can't be just all about me. I'm so sorry for abandoning ye and for not being there when ye needed me most."

The worst of the troubled look in her expression faded and was replaced by a wobbly smile. "There's nothing to forgive. We were both trying our best to deal with circumstances that were beyond our control."

He smoothed her hair back, picking up the locks and twining his fingers through them. "No, ye were doing all the heavy lifting. Every moment ye spent with me was a trial of fortitude ye were too stubborn not to meet. It would have been easy for ye to give up on me, but ye didnae. Ye always thought I was enough despite my shortcomings. Ye taught me second chances, and because of that, I dinnae want to believe anymore I deserve no' to have ye." He took a deep breath. "I thought my realisation came too late when I thought ye were with Tom, and I was willing to go at any lengths to win ye back and make ye see what we have is worth fighting for. After what I did out there tonight, I ken I'll be teased for the rest of my life for singing like a fool at the village square, but it's all worth it because I get another chance with ye."

"Another chance with me? I never left you, Jamie. I may have been miffed and hurt, but I've always been yours."

He shook his head, more at the error of his ways. "Deep down, I ken that but the mere thought of Tom with ye, all reason and logic seem to fly out the window. In the future, I promise to keep those thoughts at bay. It's no' good for my sanity." He smiled at her. "Shall we kiss and make up?"

Laughing, tears spilt from her eyes. "I thought you'd never ask."

The urgency that had been building up inside him went off like a gunshot. He drew her in closer. "Christ, I love you, Sassenach and always will." His mouth descended over hers, impressing his vow with a thorough tasting of her lips, savouring the earthy, semi-sweet taste of tequila on her tongue. His thumbs traced her cheekbones and jawline, and when she swayed closer, and the softness of her breasts flattened against his chest, he let out an animalistic groan.

His heart started to pound, every muscle south of his belt tightening. It was as though he'd been in a dry spell for five years instead of five days. His mouth went dry, his palms itched with the need to touch her naked skin, and his body was on fire as the pent-up desire from the past few days burst in a torrent of heat. He was ravenous for her taste and for her hand to encircle his hardness, and he indulged in her eager response that was opposite her usual shyness during lovemaking.

Restless fingers tangled into his hair, clasping his head in place as she kissed him back and met his demand with urgency. When her hips impatiently pressed against him, her scent invading his senses, his cock grew uncomfortably heavy.

He dragged his mouth from hers, twisting her hair in his fist. "Jesus, if ye dinnae take it down a notch, I'll burst in my pants like a schoolboy."

She blinked as if coming from a long sleep, her lips wet and puffy from his kisses and cheeks bright pink. She gave him a slow smile that promised unspoken pleasures, sending his heart up to his mouth. "Not my fault," she hummed, going up on her toes to teasingly brush her mouth over his. "You made me wait this long." Maintaining eye contact, she took a step back and stripped off her clothes, revealing her matching red bra and panty. "So enough talk, Jamie. I can't wait much more. I want you now," she whispered huskily.

Her words did it. His lust-filled brain only gave him a split second to process what she'd just said before the need to be inside her dismissed everything else. That urge he'd felt to make up for lost time raced out of control. He could only see Claire with her dazed eyes, parted lips and loads of naked skin.

He seized her hips, walking her backwards and crowding her against the dining table, pushing the chairs aside to make space. Her breath rose and fell in a choppy rhythm as his mouth dipped for a desperate kiss.

Her mouth moved in perfect unison with his, wee sounds vibrating up her throat, ending where their lips frantically worked together. Lust pumping in his veins, he roughly settled her sweet bottom on the table and gingerly hooked his fingers into the lacey band of her knickers, shoving it down her legs. When she began tugging at the waistband of his jeans, he groaned into her mouth, knowing she needed him just as bad.

"I planned to make slow love to ye tonight. But now I cannae ...because I cannae wait to have ye." His hand slipped between their bodies, and he palmed her between her thighs. Ah, sweet Jesus! Sliding a finger deep into the wet heat of her entrance, he tested and teased, revelling the way her fingernails dug onto the skin of his shoulders in response, his head spinning at the feel of her moistness. "Christ, ye look so needy, ye're giving me nae choice but to take ye right here ...like a wild beast."

"Oh, shoosh, Jamie. Quit talking about it now. You want it just as bad." She began to undo his belt buckle, nipping at his neck as she yanked and shoved. When he was finally freed, he nearly fainted at the relief of no longer being restrained to his jeans. The relief was fleeting, though, when her smooth hands encircled his throbbing cock, her tight grip moving up and down, twisting at the base, preparing him when the only thing he needed was to be inside her. Ah, Christ, but it feels so good. Far too good ...

He couldn't take it anymore. He knew he wouldn't last long. "Enough!" he gritted.

She gave him a look like he'd just taken her favourite toy. She unhooked her bra in retaliation and pushed her breasts up like an offering. His breath caught in his throat, stunned by the vision, her eyes, a translucent gold gleaming with arousal, beckoning him to take his fill.

He parted her legs and fisted his cock before rubbing its tip at her entrance. "I've missed ye so much. I might not last long, but I want this to be good for ye," he whispered hoarsely. "I may be a bit rough," He dipped his head, forcing her back to arch like a bow as he bestowed kisses on her breasts. "Are ye alright with that?"

She nodded, feeling her shudder with anticipation and need.

"Is that what ye want?"

"Yes," she whispered. "Take me however you want."

He whipped off his top and lowered his hand to her buttock, coasting his palm over the firm, rounded flesh and squeezing it tight. "Wrap yer legs around me."

Claire's legs wrapped around his middle and her arms around his neck. Her thighs glid around his waist with such exquisite perfection that he had to bite the tender flesh on the side of her neck to stop from shouting. The friction of his cock sliding between her legs where he'd touched with his fingers was too much. Almost propelling him past his breaking point. Too impatient to take the time to savour, he gripped himself and pushed deep into her entrance.

Watching her teeth bite onto her bottom lip as if to stop a scream from escaping, he groaned out loud as he pushed inch by inch, his focus whittling down to Claire and the heat enveloping his cock. Everything ceased to exist. He pulled out slightly before thrusting again, their mutual moans resounding on the walls of the cottage.

He shifted closer, needing to feel and touch all of her as possible. Keeping their lips locked, he seized her hips and started to move to the ancient dance of mating. There were no words to express the rough, grinding pace of what he did to her. It only bloomed more intense when she began matching his moves, widening her thighs and rolling her hips like she couldn't get enough.

"Oh sweet Lord, ye feel too good," he muttered against her mouth, hips pounding furiously. "How did I stay away from this?"

She gripped the back of his neck. "I missed this too," she gasped. "Please don't stop."

"I'm not hurting ye, am I? Tell me if I'm too rough."

"No ...no, don't be gentle. I need you to take me hard."

A tide surged inside him, mounting and building like a storm. Jamie roughly raised her hips to reposition her, dragging her arse to the edge of the table, her sweet moans telling him she'd like that. Unable to think past how she wanted it harder, there was no easing down now. He could only yank her leg higher and demand she keep up, ramming into her rough and fast. Her sighs and breath came out like hot rushes of air, thighs squeezing around him and starting to tremble. When her internal walls clenched around his cock, it warned him of her imminent climax, making his balls drew up so tight they ached. He dragged her flush to his body and buried his face in her neck, grunting with every deep thrust and muttering her name while his own release clamoured in his belly.

"Jamie!" she screamed, convulsing against him. He immediately silenced her cries with a deep kiss, but she flung her head back and squirmed, tightening up where their bodies joined, pulsing and throbbing. "Oh my God."

He couldn't wait any longer. Hooking his arms under her legs, he pumped his hardness in jerky hauls, faster and faster until his visions blurred. The whimpering noises she made launched him higher, signalling his own peak, and he soared towards it, his climax made more intense from the knowledge that it was Claire who got him there. He thrust into her one final time and thrust deep, growling her name into her hair and squashing her to his chest as he'd borne the full force of what they'd done.

"Oh, Christ, Sassenach."

Her hands ran up and down his back as she continued to take huge gulps of air. He knew he was crushing her, but he wasn't ready to let go. He wanted to remain buried inside her, holding her like this. With her heels digging into his arse and her arms around his neck. They fitted perfectly, her softness cradling his boneless heap, making him hard as steel again. Some part of his brain must have still been functioning because he jerked and reached out for her bra to cover her when his doorbell rang. Christ! Forcing his body to move with marginal success, he yanked her up and pulled up his jeans.

Claire slid off the table and grabbed her clothes. "Who could that be?"

"That better not be yer uncle or ..." Jamie trailed off, muttering curses under his breath, annoyed at the disturbance as he was just revving up for part two of their lovemaking. When he opened the door, a sense of deja vu hit him when he saw Mrs Fitz standing there with what seemed like a plate of a lemon meringue pie. What the fuck?

"Mrs Fitz!"

The older woman didn't bother to hide her curiosity this time as her eyes tried to peer past his shoulders. "Heard ye have company, lad, and I havenae seen Miss Claire the last couple of days."

He was about to say "none of her business" when Claire came up behind him, dressed back in her jeans and top. "Mrs Fitz, how are you? Is everything alright?"

Jamie stepped back and observed how Mrs Fitz's eyes widened in pleasant surprise. He figured instantly, his neighbour must have seen that kiss from Geneva earlier and that she'd probably thought the worse of him after hearing Claire's passionate screams. Right there and then, he decided, this time, he definitely needed to soundproof his home from eavesdropping neighbours.

"Ach, I saw light in yer windows," Mrs Fitz beamed, ignoring Jamie's glare. "Ye see, I've made too many pies and thought ye might like one. I remember ye enjoying this when ye stayed with yer friend over at my place this past Christmas."

"Oh, how lovely," Claire gushed, taking the plate from Mrs Fitz. "Thank you so much. Just what Jamie and I need right now ..." She blushed profusely, contemplating her words. "...after a long day."

Mrs Fitz clapped her hands. "I thought that!"

Seeing how thrilled Claire was looking at the desert, Jamie tamped down the urge to say something sarcastic and just scowled at her.

Mrs Fitz must have read his thoughts as this time it was her turn to crimson, a probable sign of her guilt for being nosey. Suddenly at a loss for words, she rubbed her palms at her sides. "Weel, ye both enjoy it. I must get going as it's rather late. Good night, both of ye." With that, she whirled around and disappeared into the night.

He shut the door and sighed, and followed Claire to the kitchen.

"Lovely lady," Claire remarked, sniffing the pie before placing it on the counter.

He turned her around and kissed her slowly, groaning when she opened her mouth for him without hesitation. "Ye're lovelier," he said against her lips. "But I'm not done with ye yet."

She grinned. "Pie first?"

Realising he'd never be able to compete with Mrs Fitz's homemade pie, he laughed out loud. "Absolutely ...why not?"

Dear Readers,

Well, here you go, their reunion! I hope you've enjoyed this lust-filled chapter. I must admit, though, when I was editing the sex part, I deliberately drank Bloody Mary to lose a bit of inhibition and make the scene a bit grittier. I hope it worked, but if it's too dirty for you, I say tough! 😆 Just kidding!

Anyway, thank you for commenting and showing your appreciation for my writing and your well wishes. I don't always reply back but be assured, your feedback is very much appreciated and anticipated.

And before I forget, it's not long now before this arc finishes. There will be an arc three, and I will let you know more on my next update.

Signing off now and wishing you a fabulous weekend. Stay safe and always take care! X

#melodyheart #wonderwall #milesbetweenus #claire beauchamp/jamie fraser #claire beauchamp #jamie fraser #outlanderfanfic

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flyinghome-againstthewind · 3 years

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the best by far is you: chapter 18

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For all the things my hands have held, the best by far is you - Cecilia and the satellite

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Summary: An exploration of Claire & Jamie’s story if their firstborn had lived and they had the chance to be parents together of wee Faith Fraser before the Battle of Culloden.

Chapter 18

It was half a day’s journey from the port in Le Havre to the Abbey of Ste. Anne de Beaupré. They stayed one night in a tavern before arranging a coach to take them to the abbey. Though the impulse to head straight for Paris to Jared’s home was strong, the abbey was another consideration they couldn’t rule out ‒ and the closest location upon arriving in France.

The carriage rolled to a stop in front of the abbey and the three of them stepped out into the bright sunshine. They approached the abbey with only the faintest flicker of hope. Months on this trail had left them anxious enough not to get their hopes up too soon.

The exterior and grounds of the abbey were lovely ‒ a 12th century Romanesque structure with a large garden that was carefully tended to. Claire’s gaze was inexorably drawn to it as they walked up the path leading to the abbey.

And then she glimpsed a flash of red-gold hair in the sunshine from up ahead in the gardens.

Her breath caught in her throat as her feet refused to move any further. Absently, she registered that Murtagh and Fergus had stilled beside her, puzzled.

Ahead of them, a small red-headed toddler registered the presence of three new visitors and boldly went out to greet them.

Claire’s vision burned with tears. She won’t remember, she reminded herself. And just the same, it didn’t matter. After all those months, Faith was right there in front of her, and she didn’t care if she had her work cut out for her still in winning her child’s heart back.

Her feet moved then of their own volition, unsteady at first and then picking up the pace to close the distance. Claire dropped to her knees as gracefully as she could in her condition and pulled Faith abruptly into her arms as soon as she was within reach.

“Oh, my baby. Oh God. I’m so sorry.” The words spilled out of her in a rush and then it was like a dam breaking open. She clung to Faith and wept.

Claire had her. At last. Faith was alive and real and heavy in Claire’s lap.

She felt the girl squirming in her grasp, her little hands pushing against Claire’s chest, and reluctantly, she let her go. Fergus was at her side, she realized, and he gripped her by the elbow to try and help her to her feet. They managed, a bit awkwardly.

It was only then that she noticed who Faith was with ‒ and who Murtagh was helping ease onto a stone bench after she looked about ready to faint.

“Y-y-y-you’re dead…”

Claire’s gaze flicked over to Murtagh briefly. In all their time searching, they hadn’t given much thought to how they would explain this to Mary ‒ or anyone else who wasn’t Jamie for that matter.

“Whoa, lass!”

The sight of Mary beginning to hyperventilate snapped Claire out of her thoughts. “Easy now. You’re alright.”

She was aware of Faith trying to burrow behind Mary’s skirts, but couldn’t give that her full attention just then. Murtagh stepped aside to let Claire in next to her. “Easy now. Cup your hands together over your mouth and nose and breathe into them. There you go. Try and breathe slowly.”

Faith moved to lean against Mary’s knees, watching anxiously. Claire stifled the impulse to reach for her. God, this was all going so poorly…

“I d-don’t… understand,” Mary said between labored breaths. But she was calming down and a little color was returning to her cheeks, Claire noted.

“I can imagine it’s quite a shock, and I’m sorry for that.” She rubbed Mary’s back lightly. It helped her own nervous state to be able to focus on helping someone else. “It’s a long story, but we’ll tell you it all later. Where’s Jamie? Is he inside?”

“Oh God,” Mary uttered suddenly and she looked as though she might be sick. “Oh I wish you had been here even a day earlier.”

She felt her stomach lurch at Mary’s words and wondered if she would be sick. “What do you mean? Where is Jamie?”

Mary began to tremble. “Th-th-there was an a-accident…”

They had started towards the abbey with Mary leading them, but in their panicked haste, Claire and Murtagh quickly overtook her. Mary shouted directions at them, but it didn’t matter. Once inside, it only took one frantic request to the first monk they ran into before they were brought to Jamie’s room.

Seeing her husband bruised and bandaged, unconscious, Claire didn’t realize at first that she was physically leaning on Murtagh for support, holding tightly to his arm. It was a different time, a different abbey, and yet her mind made the connection to just after Wentworth, when she almost lost him. She felt dizzy and weak.

“What‒” Her gaze took in the leg wrapped in splints and soaked through with dried blood. Whatever had happened, his leg seemed to bear the brunt of it, though the rest of him was covered in scrapes and bruises as well.

One of the brothers had followed them in and was explaining softly in French what had happened and how Jamie was faring. In all the commotion, they attracted a few more residents of the abbey, who filtered into the small room.

She caught enough to understand Jamie had developed an infection, most likely from his leg. Her stomach roiled and her hand came to press high on her pregnant belly out of habit, though it did nothing to help.

It was then her eyes fell to a cut on the inside of his forearm, too perfectly placed and neatly cut to be a coincidence. Still, her mind rebelled against the idea. No, they couldn’t have…

“You bled him!”

Stillness descended on the room following her outburst. She finally tore her gaze away from Jamie to look at the monks for explanation, to Mary who was trembling in the back.

“ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL HIM?”

Just as quickly as the room had fallen silent, it roared back to life with voices raised and overlapping ‒ each person trying to explain or justify or placate. Above them all was Claire, unable to contain her horror. “--already weakened from the accident and trying to fight off an infection and you bled him!”

She was vaguely aware of Murtagh’s tug on her arm, but it wasn’t until he screamed for the rest of them to be quiet that she paid him any attention. Her gaze flew to him, but he wasn’t watching her. And that’s when she heard the hushed, gravely voice of her husband, straining to be heard above the noise.

She caught his fevered gaze and felt her heart tumble in her chest.

“Sassenach?”

Murtagh quietly cleared the room, though in the moment, Claire hardly noticed this kind act.

Claire’s words clogged in her throat but she moved closer to the bed and sat carefully on the edge, taking Jamie’s hand carefully in her own. His skin felt hot to the touch.

“Am I‒ I…” He struggled between labored breaths and his eyes fluttered shut but he seemed to muster the energy to force them open again and find her. “Am I dying then?”

The implication of his words hit her hard, and she shook her head vehemently, feeling silent tears spill down her cheeks. “This isn’t a hallucination. I’m real. I’m here.”

He smiled weakly, his eyes drifting shut again.

God, to find him after all this time and to find him like this…

Murtagh cleared his throat as he re-entered the room. “Ye can save him, Claire.”

It wasn’t a question, but she heard the need for reassurance.

“I’m damn well going to try,” she said as much for her own benefit as for Murtagh’s, but her voice wobbled even as she tried to sound confident. She squeezed Jamie’s hand and brought it to her lips. “I can make a poultice for his infection,” she said with a bit more authority. “And maybe a tea.”

She brushed the hair back from his forehead ‒ faded dark locks with his natural red coming in at the roots. They’d caught on that he had dyed his hair through some of the descriptions they’d heard of him along the way. He must’ve stopped worrying about it once they reached France. He looked ridiculous and she wanted to be able to tease him about it, to see the way his ears turned pink when she did and hear his laugh. Later, she told herself. Get him well.

She pushed herself to her feet and went to examine his leg. Whoever had tended to it had done well ‒ the gash across his thigh had been stitched by a steady hand, and though the wound had become infected, that might not have been avoided even under Claire’s care.

But the bloodletting…

Indignation still fizzled in her veins. He’d already lost some blood from the accident, from the looks of it. And of all the things they could’ve tried to help him once infection set in, this was the worst.

“Where are the children?” she asked suddenly.

“Mary has them.”

“Did Faith see me‒”

Scream like a lunatic at everyone within earshot?

“Nay,” Murtagh said quickly. “She wasna in the room.”

Claire nodded at that. She knew the ground she was on with Faith was shaky at best. And the last thing she wanted was to give Faith any reason to fear her.

“Madame?”

She followed the sound to its source ‒ a frail, kindly-looking monk in the doorway that Claire got the distinct impression was sent in as an intermediary. But behind him stood a stocky figure with black hair and familiar slanted eyes. Jamie’s uncle, Alexander Fraser. Though she’d heard about him, they’d never met even during her time in France two years ago.

“You must be Claire,” he said. His voice had a strange dialect that Claire knew at once to be the result of a born and bred Highlander living so many of his adult years in France. “I must admit it is a shock to meet you at last, given that Jamie told us you were dead.”

“A misunderstanding,” she supplied lamely.

“Un miracle,” said the quiet monk with a kind smile, and Claire decided that she liked him very much, even if he was sent in to placate her.

Abbot Alexander nodded to the man. “This is Brother Thomas. He can assist you with Jamie and bring you anything you need.” His eyes darkened as he added, “It was a terrible shock, what happened. We all want Jamie to be well again.”

She knew this was as close to an apology for the bloodletting as she would get. And that whoever’s call it had been would never be revealed to her. “Thank you, Abbot. I shall be very happy to have Brother Thomas’s assistance.”

Jamie heard her voice again, and felt his whole body orient toward the sound. Softer this time. Hushed. Bleary-eyed, he looked about and found her right there within reach, though he dared not try to touch her in case doing so would somehow banish the vision of her. No matter ‒ he hardly felt strong enough to turn his head let alone lift his hand.

“Am I dying?” he asked again.

“Not if I have anything to say about that,” she shot back at him, eyes snapping up at his in challenge. He smirked at this, weakly. Even as he neared the end, this part of his soul that Claire occupied and materialized before him was just as fierce and unrelenting as the real woman.

“Do you hear me, James Fraser?” she spoke again, gripping him by the chin as he fought to stay awake. “You do not have my permission to die.”

“Aye, lass…” He couldn’t manage more than that before darkness crept in once more.

Some time in the evening, Brother Thomas came around with supper for Claire and made her sit and eat. When he tried to encourage her to leave the room for a break and go see the others though, she resisted the idea.

After how she’d found Jamie, she sure as hell wasn’t leaving him unattended.

But at the moment, he was resting and there was nothing immediate that she could do for him ‒ and Brother Thomas swore he wouldn’t leave Jamie until she came back.

With enough prodding and reassurance, Claire left Jamie’s bedside in search of the rest of her family.

She found them in a small library and stood in the doorway watching them. Mary was sitting with them, one hand resting on her rounded belly. She still looked pale and drawn with worry, the poor thing.

And Murtagh had Faith on his knee, bouncing her slightly and talking in a low voice to her. Claire felt her throat clog with emotion, watching the two of them. She knew what that moment meant for Murtagh, having been the one to bring Faith to Culloden three months ago, to hold her again and see Faith’s family restored to her.

Claire stayed frozen in the doorway, a voyeur to this moment, never fully part of it. She had a visceral desire to walk right over to Murtagh and pluck Faith from his lap, to hold her close in her own arms again ‒ oh god, even to look at her and know she was real ‒ and yet that desire was overpowered by one thought that kept Claire in check. That whisper of doubt in her ear telling her that she’d already screwed up. She’d startled Faith out in the gardens and now what did the girl think of her?

She felt the baby kick and her hand went automatically to the spot. Hadn’t been that long ago that Faith was just a little nudge felt from within and now they were nearly strangers to each other.

Fergus noticed her first and raced to her side. “How is Milord?” he asked in a whisper, and she realized her hesitation to join them had come off as being the bearer of bad news.

“He’s alright.” She pulled him to her side and gave him a squeeze. “He’s still fighting.”

“Can I see him?”

She drew in a steep breath, choosing her words carefully. “Well, he’s resting right now, darling. Maybe tomorrow, alright?”

He gave her a half-hearted smile, but she knew she had crushed him. Of course he wanted to see Jamie, but if… if he saw him while he was fevered and weak, heard Jamie’s talk of dying… no, she didn’t want that for Fergus.

He slipped away from her and went to join the others. Claire watched as he bent down to talk to Faith and then as she jumped down from Murtagh’s knee to take Fergus’s hand. Claire’s hand came up to press just below her collarbone where it felt like her heart was splitting open at the seams. To see them together again and slipping easily back into a rapport with each other, as children often did without much difficulty… Her children ‒ Hers and Jamie’s ‒ together again.

The ache was still there for the time that was lost with Faith, the guilt over any unintended pain she’d caused her wee girl. But there was something tender and hopeful in knowing she’d returned Murtagh and Fergus to Faith’s life. They both loved her so, and Faith would know that soon enough. Claire held both things, the hurt and the hope, as she watched Fergus and Faith.

Murtagh saw her then, still standing in the doorway. “Come sit down,” he called out.

She pushed away from the doorway and went in.

It was later in the night when Murtagh came to check on her and Jamie. With Brother Thomas’s help, she’d made a poultice for Jamie’s leg and also managed a few times to get Jamie to drink some tea for his fever and pain. He slept fitfully, tossing and turning, and the fever hadn’t broken. Every time he spoke to her, it never felt like she was speaking to the real Jamie.

“Take another break,” Murtagh insisted gruffly. “I’m no’ sure all this pacing is good for the bairn.”

Her hand smoothed over the bump. She’d forgotten how everyone treated her as though she was made of glass as soon as the baby was visible. “Baby’s fine. I’m fine.”

Murtagh pulled a face at that and grunted, which she ignored.

“Ye’ve hardly gone near the lass since we’ve been here.” He said this bluntly, and Claire blinked quickly against the burn of oncoming tears. She’d hoped no one had noticed. “She’s awake still, wi’ Mary. Go an’ put the lass tae bed, Claire. I’ll sit wi’ Jamie.”

She chewed the inside of her lip, considering. With Jamie, she knew how to care for him ‒ a little too well, the damn fool. But Faith…

“And if anyone tries tae bleed him, it’ll be the last thing they ever do.”

She chuckled softly at this and her heart swelled with affection for the old grump that loved them all better than they deserved. “Thank you, Murtagh.”

He grunted and dropped into the chair at Jamie’s bedside.

“And where’s Fergus?”

“They gave him a room and he’s gone tae bed.”

“Thank you,” she said again, patting his shoulder as she moved past him, “for everything today. I didn’t expect… well, it’s been a shock, with Jamie. I couldn’t have managed without you.”

Without looking at her, he reached up and squeezed her hand where it rested on his shoulder. “Get some rest, a nighean.”

“I won’t be able to sleep. I’ll be back in an hour or two.”

“Alright,” Murtagh said with a resigned sigh. “Go and see Faith then and dinna hurry back. I’ll find ye if anything happens.”

She slipped quietly out into the hall and turned a corner leading to more sleeping quarters. She knew where Mary’s room was, but she went first in search of Fergus. He was still awake when she found him.

“Your own room, hmm?” She sat on the other small bed across from his, looking about the room. “Haven’t had that luxury in a while.”

Fergus’s mouth twitched slightly, like he was trying not to smile. “If you’re scared, just say so and you can stay in here, Milady. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

She grabbed the pillow on the spare bed and flung it at his head, relishing the sound of his laugh as he ducked and covered his head. Cheeky little arse…

But when his head poked back up, the moment of teasing had passed. She stood and dropped a kiss to the top of his head. “Just wanted to see you before you went to sleep. Have sweet dreams, love.”

“Goodnight, Milady.”

He caught her hand as she was turning away, and gave it a tight squeeze.

“I love you, my boy,” she murmured.

“I know. je t'aime aussi.”

Mary’s door was open and there they were by the fireplace, Mary sitting in one chair and Faith leaning against the other one. She had something small in her hand, some kind of toy, and alternated between moving it along the seat of the chair and turning to talk to Mary.

Faith glanced up and noticed her. Claire forced a smile and took that opportunity to enter the room.

“Claire! Oh, come sit. Here, Faith, let’s make room.”

Faith shuffled backwards until she bumped into Mary’s knees, staring curiously up at Claire as she took the other seat.

Mary asked about Jamie and she gave her the same update she’d given Murtagh and Fergus and any one of the monks who had poked their head into Jamie’s room to ask about him.

“I am sorry for startling you earlier,” Claire added. “I hope it wasn’t… well, I hope you’re feeling alright now.”

Mary exhaled a smile. “You’re actually the second person I’ve thought was dead to show up out of the blue, and both of those instances happened in the last few months…” Mary shook her head at that, and Claire realized with sinking dread that it had been Jack Randall she referred to. She’d all but forgotten… but no, she could see now that Mary didn’t want to discuss that. “Come to that, both times the message came from Jamie that you and‒ and‒”

“It was a terrible misunderstanding,” she said quickly. Firmly. “Jamie had no idea I was… alive.” Still had no idea, really.

Claire took a deep breath, unsure what Jamie might’ve told Mary already. “We knew that we couldn’t win. We knew if we fought the Redcoats in our current state, there was no way the Jacobites would be victorious. So we had Murtagh bring Faith to us and we were going to run. But there was… some confusion on that day. It was chaotic and we were desperate to get out of there. But I got separated from Jamie and Faith. And I think Jamie thought I was taken by the Redcoats and killed. He didn’t lie to you intentionally. He just didn’t know the truth.”

Mary’s gaze drifted towards the fire, still shaking her head slightly, though Claire got the impression it was more to do with the improbability of all that had occurred than any sort of ill feelings. And Claire didn’t blame her one bit.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” Mary added shyly. “And that you’re here.” Her hand dropped gently to Faith’s head, stroking her soft red curls in a familiar way. Her gaze flew to Claire suddenly, eyes wide. “Oh I’m so stupid! You’re here for Faith! Of course you are. And here I am chattering away with you.”

“No, no it’s alright,” Claire said swiftly. She had come here for Faith, but… “I did want the chance to speak with you, too. To explain.”

Mary breathed a sigh of relief but she still smiled politely and moved to stand. “She’s slept in here since the accident. You’re welcome to stay in here as well. But I’ll‒ well, I’ll make myself scarce for a bit. Give you two some time together.”

She moved a bit slowly, her much smaller frame balancing a larger belly than Claire, but Mary extricated herself from the room as swiftly as possible, closing the door behind her.

And then it was only Claire and Faith.

With the sound of the door closing, Faith seemed to realize then that no one she knew was with her. Just Claire. Just this odd woman who had wept hysterically at the sight of her earlier today. Claire had already been preparing herself for this ‒ No more tears. Not from herself, at least. She wouldn’t scare Faith again.

Faith stood stock still by the chair Mary had vacated, no longer wide-eyed with curiosity. Instead, she seemed to search the room for something familiar. She made a beeline for the door, which she wasn’t tall enough to open.

“Lovey, it’s alright…” Claire moved to her feet, but hesitated to take a step further. But when she stood, she drew Faith’s gaze and felt something wrench in her chest. The panic in the tiny girl was palpable. “I know you’re frightened and you don’t remember me, but I’m‒”

Faith’s expression pinched with worry and she breathed in deep, and it made Claire pause.

“Want my da,” Faith croaked in her little voice, and then her face scrunched up and she began to howl.

Claire moved in an instant to scoop the girl up. She held Faith close while she cried, the small girl’s body resting above the swell of the baby.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered so quietly that she knew Faith couldn’t hear it over her own wailing. “I’m so sorry. I’ll never leave you again. I promise.” She slowly paced the small room and rubbed circles on Faith’s back, just as she used to when Faith was a baby.

Faith’s howling didn’t let up, that stubborn streak making itself known. But the longer it went on, Faith crying in her arms and allowing Claire to comfort her, the less her tiny girl felt like a stranger to Claire. How many nights in Faith’s life had been spent just like this?

And eventually, her cries became more of a whimper and then ceased altogether.

Her head popped up from Claire’s shoulder with a red face still streaked with tears and her brows still creased together. “Want da,” she tried again, her lips forming a pout.

Claire’s fingers caressed the sweet face, wiping at the tears. It broke her heart that she couldn’t just bring her to him. “He’s still here, but he’s sleeping. You’ll see him as soon as he’s better, I promise.”

“No,” Faith whined half-heartedly. Claire swayed in place with Faith and watched her yawn and then shiver slightly and burrow into Claire’s warmth.

“Shall we sit by the fire?”

“Aye.” Faith murmured, succumbing to another yawn.

“Here,” Claire grabbed a woolen shawl and draped around them both, and sat in one of the chairs by the fire. Faith sat up straight once she was in Claire’s lap, glancing about again. Her gaze turned back to Claire.

“Wha’s yer name?” Faith asked in her sweet little voice. Her head cocked to the side in a familiar way and Claire felt the sting of tears but blinked them away swiftly.

“I’m your mama,” Claire said, feeling her heart clench at saying those words. She delicately traced the sweet face that she longed to smother with kisses, wiping at the last of Faith’s tears and brushing curls off her sweaty forehead. Faith’s brows furrowed together again and Claire wondered what she made of that, what she could understand of the word at the tender age of two.

“My mam?”

Claire made a slight sound, caught between a laugh and a cry. “Yes. Yours. I carried you inside me for several months while you grew. And when you were born, I held you close and I couldn’t believe that you were mine. My baby.”

“Baby.” Faith pointed to her rounded belly and Claire exhaled a soft, surprised laugh at this.

“Well, yes, there is one in there, but I meant you. You were a baby in my belly once, too.” She brushed Faith’s curls back out of her face again and cupped the back of her head to pull her forward, meeting no resistance from the girl. Faith’s head rested on her mother’s chest, a little awkwardly draped over the baby bump. Claire sighed. She was already running out of room in her lap and a desperate feeling gripped her, that she needed to rebuild her relationship with Faith before the next one arrived. “I would hold you here and let you hear my heartbeat as a newborn baby, the same sound you heard from within when I carried you. And you knew who I was from that sound.” Faith stayed quiet and relaxed under Claire’s hands as they cradled her head and slowly rubbed her back. “My baby.”

She wasn’t sure at what point Faith drifted off to sleep, but she stayed in that chair with her girl curled up on her chest much longer than she needed to. She felt Faith’s exhales of breath caressing her skin once more, no longer the quick little puffs from when she was first born, but deeper now. This was how they had started out, the two of them, and this was how they were finding their way back. Claire’s arms went about Faith’s still form, anchoring her there, and she pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, lingering there to breathe her in and know she was real. The tears did come then, spilling fast down her face. She shook slightly with choked-back sobs but didn’t make a sound.

Barely three months ago, Claire had been in 1948 with Frank. It seemed like another lifetime ago ‒ and Culloden with Jamie and Faith, another lifetime before that. She’d searched for months and now that she had this girl back in her arms again, she’d never let her go.

“Faith Elizabeth Janet Beauchamp Fraser,” she addressed her sleeping child slowly, pronouncing each name distinctly as Jamie had done with his own name when he first told her. “I don’t know what your future holds, but I promise to do everything in my power to see you living a long and happy life. And I know you don’t know me anymore, but you will. You’ll always have me from this moment on. I traveled 200 years just to find you… I’m not likely to let anything else stand in the way. And you won’t ever lose me.” Her lower lip trembled and a few rogue tears spilled onto Faith’s head. “You and me, Faith,” Claire rasped, resting her cheek on top of Faith’s head. “We’ll be alright. I’m here. I love you.”

She didn’t want to move for fear of waking Faith ‒ and in doing so, of ruining the moment of being able to hold her baby to her chest ‒ but she couldn’t stay there all night. She needed to check in on Jamie.

So she stood slowly, carefully, and readjusted Faith to rest her head high up on Claire’s shoulder. The girl breathed in sharply during the move, but turned her head into Claire’s neck and let out a sleepy sigh, settling back in.

Faith’s bottom rested just above the swell of the baby, which was almost protruding far enough to sit Faith on top of it, but not quite. “I really will have my hands full in a few months, won’t I?”

Claire sauntered quietly down the hall with Faith and turned into Jamie’s room to find not only Murtagh where she had left him, but Fergus, who had joined him too.

He must’ve snuck in as soon as she went to see Faith, since he was already sound asleep in a chair near the foot of the bed. Murtagh caught her eye as she entered and merely shrugged. “Didna see any harm in letting him stay. Jamie’s been out since ye left.”

“It’s alright.”

She reached over and brushed Fergus’s curls back from his forehead before shifting Faith’s weight higher in her arms. Despite wanting to keep the children from seeing Jamie in a distressing state, she felt strengthened by their presence and by Murtagh’s. They were whole, finally. And as long as Jamie stayed strong, they would remain so.

“Jamie?”

Claire’s voice called to him, and he whined. What punishment was this? He had fought so hard these last few months to give Faith the best life he could, to accept his future as just a father but no longer a husband. And while he was torn between fighting to stay for Faith or give in and be at peace... be with Claire… it felt as though the spirit of Claire was urging him to stay put. Stay with Faith.

“Jamie, don’t give up on me.” Her voice was pinched with worry. “Not now that I’ve got you back.”

But he didn’t know that he was strong enough to keep fighting.

Oh, lass, dinna be pained on my account, he wanted to say, i’ll be wi’ ye soon. But no words came out.

The gardens provided an escape during the day as well as allowing for Fergus and Faith to run off some of their energy. Even though she’d been slow to walk at first for her age, Faith was quite steady on her feet now and Fergus made a game of chase with her, running at a slow pace to keep her after him. Every now and then, he’d slow down enough to let her catch him and flop dramatically onto the grass, which never failed to make Faith burst into laughter.

It was a short-lived escape from their worry, and inevitably for Claire, something would happen between Fergus and Faith that made her wish Jamie were present to witness it. They’d already lost so much time…

“Want my da!” Faith declared as she sped ahead to Jamie’s room before anyone could stop her. Claire huffed and picked up her pace as best she could.

“See? Da’s sleeping. We have to be quiet.”

Faith stood beside the bed, and her tiny frame shook. She was close to tears, Claire could tell. Nothing about the situation made sense to Faith, and she didn’t need to verbalize her distress for everyone else to know it was deeply upsetting to not have Jamie awake and alert.

“How about some cuddles for Da? You have to be careful of his leg but you can go up here by his shoulder and cuddle with him, if you want.”

It was nearing Faith’s nap time anyway, from what Mary had said. Faith didn’t need further invitation and started to scramble up the side of the bed.

“Easy, love,” Claire laughed, jumping in to help situate Faith to the other side of the bed where there was more room. She moved Jamie’s arm away from his body, creating space for Faith to curl against his side. “There we go. Rest your eyes, sweet girl.”

Jamie muttered softly and shifted in his sleep. Claire reached over and felt his forehead. He was sweaty and didn’t feel too terribly warm, which was promising. Claire tried to keep her hope tempered.

“Fergus, do you know where they keep the herbs for making tea? Could you run and grab me some more?”

Fergus shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I do not know, Milady,” he said regretfully. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

She sighed. Brother Thomas wasn’t around and neither was Mary, but she wanted to make Jamie a fresh cup of tea and see if he would drink some of it the next time he roused.

Faith was still knocked out against Jamie’s shoulder and it was only Claire and Fergus awake in the room. “Come with me. I’ll show you so you know for next time. It won’t take long.”

Jamie opened his eyes and felt like he was waking for the first time after a very strange dream. Tired and still weak, but his head felt clear. No more chills or aches through his whole body. No, just a dull pain in his thigh when he twitched his leg. He felt too warm and tried to kick his uninjured leg free from the blankets.

The fever was gone and he let out a sigh that was only partly relief. If the fever had left him… then so had Claire.

He became slowly aware of a small, warm weight on his right shoulder and looked to see a head full of wispy, red curls that could only belong to Faith. His arm tightened around her as best as he could and he turned to press a kiss to the crown of her head. “Deo gratias…” He whispered hoarsely into her hair, holding the only remaining testament that he had of his and Claire’s love. I’m sae sorry I almost left ye, a nighean...

She slumbered on, undisturbed by this even as Jamie’s hand came to rest on her head in supplication and he offered up a plea for this child’s safety and a humble request that if he should have to live the rest of his years on this earth without his wife, that he might still live to see this child of theirs grow up…

“Oh thank god!”

He stiffened at the sound of his wife’s voice, knowing it meant he was not as well as he thought, if he was still hearing her. But even as he wouldn’t turn his head to look towards her voice, he was aware that he and Faith were not alone. Out of the corner of his eye, a figure filled the entryway and in his peripheral vision, his sight told him it was Claire. But his head knew better. It wasn’t her. It couldn’t be her.

Then she drew near and her hands framed his face. His eyelids slammed shut in disbelief, pushing tears down his cheeks. “Thank god!” she said again in a tight whisper.

“Claire?” His voice came out ragged. Her hands gently held his face and turned him towards her. His eyes fluttered open and there she was, smiling down at him through her own tears. He breathed in sharply and could only stare because she would always be the most beautiful sight to his eyes ‒ And a sight he thought he would never see again. “How‒”

She leaned down and kissed him, tentatively at first but feeling him respond, she let the kiss unfold, lingering for what seemed like a blissful eternity until she pulled away, leaving them both panting softly. He reached up and touched her, tracing the outline of her face.

She was trembling terribly, almost on the verge of crying, as her eyes slid shut at his touch, and she let out a shuddering sigh. “I thought you were going to die on me.”

His heart felt as though it were trying to march right through his ribcage, it was hammering so fiercely. “I thought… I thought you were a dream. I canna believe ye’re real.”

He shook his head then as the truth set in. “Ye came all the way to France?” He was aghast, still shaken by the very presence of her. She smiled through a fresh wave of tears.

“I came two hundred years and all the way to France,” her hand reached tentatively for Faith, hovering just above the girl’s head before gently making contact, “Just to find you two.”

There was a soft scuffle of feet and Claire glanced over her shoulder, smiling brilliantly. “And I didn’t come alone, Jamie.”

“Milord!”

He’d hardly processed her words before Fergus was there, flinging himself haphazardly at Jamie. Fergus’s head buried itself in Jamie’s chest, and Jamie clutched him close, feeling a sudden, sharp sob tear from his throat. Oh God, his son.

His vision clouded over, but not before he’d noticed his godfather standing in the doorway. One arm tightened around Faith while the other held Fergus to him, and his resolve not to openly weep like a baby finally crumbled.

He had believed for so long now that his family as he once knew it was lost for good… and to have them returned to him in one instant, he felt a brief flicker of doubt. That this was nothing more than a fevered dream, to have everything his heart desired.

But he could feel the weight still of Faith leaning on his shoulder, awake now and sitting up from the sudden bursts of noise around her. He could feel where Fergus held a fistful of his shirt in a clenched fist, refusing to let go, and where the boy's tears were soaking through the fabric to Jamie’s chest. And he could feel Claire’s delicate hand brushing his hair back from his face, the softest touch but unmistakably real, before she framed his face again and kissed him, first on his lips and then peppering soft kisses across his face like she needed to cover every inch of him with her love.

And it was everything and all too much.

His family was here. And they were real. Deo gratias.

#jamie x claire #faith fraser #outlander #outlander fic #tbbfiy #the best by far is you #OL fic #my fic

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lady-o-ren · 3 years

Text

Never Will I Love Thee

CHAPTER ONE // Read on ao3 HERE

CHAPTER TWO

The King of Scotia has yet to arrive in the land of his betrothed. Has yet to taint the crystal waters that separates the royal castle from the mainland, perched impressively high on an islet and surrounded by a lush forest below. The Princess of Albíōn has also made herself scarce from the eyes of her uncle's court and has taken refuge in the soft leafy hollow of a giant oak tree that grows crooked and wild with ivy, it's branches fluttering with birdsong. Above her the evening sky smolders like a brushfire and though she feels the heat caress her cheeks, her blood burns cold as she waits for a fate far worse than death. Claire can only hope with every beat of her bleeding heart that the lateness of her horrid husband-to-be means he's suffered the same fate as his uncle. But she could never be so lucky. Not twice. Even now she can hear her name echo in the faraway distance and feels her heart stutter beneath her tunic knowing what news awaits her. Wishes for nothing more than to vanish into thin air. When she hears the voices of the guards carry closer on the breeze, she takes off with the swiftness of a hare with her plum velvet cloak billowing behind her. She knows she's only delaying the inevitable. Doesn't care if her uncle must grovel in apology on hand and knee to the man who's known to have a heart blacker than the devils. ‘Damn them both!’ She seethes. But as her eyes gloss with ire, her foot catches on some protruding underbrush and she takes a small tumble down a grassy slope, landing flat on her backside in a patch of clover and lavender with her willowy curls a veil over her face. Slowly, she props herself up with her hands and feels an immediate sting that makes her wince and curse at the heavens above for not breaking her neck. . . Just as another calls to her, scuffling down the slope. "Are ye a'right, lass?"

She puffs at a fawn colored lock sticking to her lips and dryly replies "Never better" then looks up to see which of her guards the unfamiliar voice belongs to and is shocked to find a man clad in the white fur of a beast kneeling before her.

Without a moment's hesitation, he gently takes her hand in his, scraped red along the back, as she marvels at the perfection of his features glowing a ruddy bronze, at the dear gentleness that beams from his eyes a shade rarer than a sapphire. Claire would've thought him the most beautiful creature she'd ever seen. Would've let her heart swoon imagining how soft his lips might be, where they'd wander to. . . were it not for the dark flame of his hair that marks him like the vile stain of blood.

Unaware of the storm brewing before him, his attention still on her hand, the man who ought to be guarding every ounce of his flesh (particularly the one no man can live without) instead pulls a handkerchief from the sleeve of his doublet. "Ye have a nasty scrape there," he begins to say, wrapping the cloth around her hand. "Best to tend to it now then. . wait. . ." His voice trails off as he finally lifts his gaze to hers bristling like a jackal. "Your name, speak it,” she says, and snatches her injured hand away, pressing it against her chest. A small sad smile mars his mouth before he speaks. "Must I tell ye?" He mumbles low, sounding ashamed. But still he stands revealing a man as great as the mountains that bore him and takes a step back to bow with the grace of a knight, hand in sincere reverence at his breast. “I come to ye humbly, my lady, as the last living son of Elhen and Bhrian Dhu of Clan Fraser but also as the unfortunate heir to the mountain throne and I'm sure a wretch to yer sight, James Fraser.” “You're bloody worse than a wretch,” she hisses through the bite of her teeth, and scuffs her heel against the earth that sends a wave of dirt flying towards her intended, who shields himself with his cloak now speckled like a sparrow's egg. "And I'm no lady of yours nor will I ever be.” She stands to her full regal height, hands fisted, shaking at her side. "Even when we marry, when I'm forced to be shackled to you, you'll have no claim on me. Now leave my sight. I demand it of you.” “I canna do that,” he says firmly, coming close enough to engulf her in his shadow. “I must and will speak to you." Her throat bobs as he towers over her but she juts her chin upward. “Speak to me like chattel again and I'll have your tongue.”

The Red King furrows his brow at her threat, how her eyes flare like two coals on fire, but beneath that anger she rightfully has towards him he sees fear prick at the princess's eyes, bleeding her face white and grabbing at her throat as if his hand were there squeezing tight. He knew his name had been tainted from the years of being his uncle's pawn but for this woman to fear him so. . . That struck him deep in the gullet, sharp and brutal. “Forgive me, Your Highness,” he says from his heart, wracking a hand through his hair as he takes a step back. “I've been a soldier nearly my entire life and have little experience in matters such as these."

He waves an uneasy hand in the air between them.

“But that's no excuse for being so forward wi’ ye. I had only wished to convey to ye that I am as much a prisoner to this arrangement between our uncle's as you.”

She scoffs at that. “Says the king with more power than any mortal man should have.”

“Yer’re right. But dinna speak as if ye ken what I've suffered under my uncle's reign. What I've had to sacrifice to keep myself and my kin alive.”

Indeed, Claire can see the harsh toll of unspoken grief and torment cross his face and darken his eyes before he masters his emotions, breathes the sweet air, and continues on.

“That's why I've come to your kingdom, sought ye out here amongst the trees and away from the meddlesome tongues of court advisors, because I needed to speak to ye in private. To tell ye I think it only right for ye to have yer say on who ye marry, who ye choose to love."

Claire questions him. “What are you saying?”

He smiles gently at her - a lopsided, boyish curl of mouth that could charm honey from a bee. Encourage a lass to say I do.

“That the choice for us to marry is yers and yers alone. I willna force myself on ye.”

His words echo in her heart that thumps with quiet hope yet she eyes him with suspicion, refusing to trust the King before her.

Refusing she could ever be so lucky. Not twice.

A/N: I tried to write more (I'm a pushover). Good or Bad?? Delete or not?? I'm still struggling with all this proper lingo. Think of this as a god awful WIP.

Also I remember seeing some fanart for Jon Snow with some white fur draped around him and didn't know if it was a dire wolf or what. But that's what Jamie's wearing.

#jamie x claire #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction

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renee-writer · 9 months

Text

The Heart Don't Lie Chapter 33

AO3

Anna is furious! To be kicked out of her own house, to be spoken to in such a way by her own child, she simply can’t let that stay. She knows exactly what to do. She drives towards the university.

Jamie hugs his daughters. He is mighty proud of them for standing up to their mam. The decisions that Rose is making, to handle this unexpected situation, to be who she is without apology, they make his chest swell with pride.

He draws Claire to him next. He knows that she was stunned by the vitriol from Anna. She had to place the focus and blame away from herself. They were an easy target.

She lets herself relax against him. There is a relief in having everything out in the open, even with the loathing she expressed.

“It was a cathartic meeting. A type of therapy session.” Beth expresses what they are all thinking. Rose hugs her side.

“Just so love. The first of many I imagine.”

Her Auntie Jenny nods. “Sad that it has come to this. But,” she rolls her shoulders to release the tension, “the air is clear now. I believe Anna knows where she stands.”

“She should have before.” Jamie growls.

“Yes,” Her hand comes up to cradle his face, “undoubtedly. But there is no way she doesn’t now. Having her life tore apart, even if,” she quickly adds, “she was the cause of it, it is hard to accept.”

“See,” Willa exclaims, “you are perfect for daddy. Smart, with a kind heart, forgiving.”

“I try. Don’t place me on a pedestal. Trust me when I say, I wrestle with very strong negative feelings about her.” They all laugh.

Anna pulls in to the car park in front of the history department. If there is one person that should hate what is happening between Jamie and that interloper, it should be her husband.

She looks at the directory and then enters the lift to his floor.

She knocks on his office door.

“Come in,” She walks in and he looks up from packing his things, “ Do I know you?”

“My husband is currently shagging your wife. I am Anna Fraser, Jamie ‘s wife.”

His hands hit the mostly empty desk as he starts to laugh. Her arms cross and she glares at him. He continues to laugh.

“What is so funny?”

He struggles to get himself under control so he can answer her.

“You thinking you could ever stop that. Credit for doing it for twenty years. But, as soon as he found out your secret and as soon as I stuffed up by choosing his niece as my latest student f*ck, it was over. We are just getting what we deserve.”

“You don’t care!”

“Claire was a means to an end. She gave me an air of respectability. I hoped she would give me a heir too. Now that I know I am sterile and now that my tenure has been removed and I have been shown the door, I don’t need her. Living life the way I want will be easier now.”

She stares at him a moment before turning and slamming out. He shakes his head and continues to pack up, chuckling to himself.

The next day finds Rose pacing, anxious for the arrival of Simon, his wife, Kate, and their children, David and Leah.

She phoned him after the intense family meeting. He assured her that they would be available to come by the next day. A time was set and, as it grows closer, she gets more nervous.

Knowing her family surrounds her, helps. Claire and Auntie Jenny are in the kitchen, baking. Willa and Beth are playing chess in the study, Her daddy and Uncle Ian are in the stables. Her cousins work around the farm.

Her heart leaps when she hears the car coming. Then she sees it is her mam. Hands fisted in rage, she walks out to meet her.

“Rose I…”

“Why are you here?”

“You said as long as I stayed out of the way…”

“That was before yesterday. Do you think I want you here now?”

“Rose, I am your mam. I understand you are upset but…”

They both turn as another car pulls up. Rose’s heart starts to pound.

“Go. Find somewhere to be in the house but…”

Simon steps out and stares. His wife and children join him. Rose looks immediately to her sister and brother. Kate’s eyes zero in on Anna.

“Rose, I didn’t know that your mam would be here.”

“Sorry Simon. She wasn’t to be, here around you guys, I mean.”

“So, you are Anna. I am Kate, his wife.”

Anna looks for a way to escape. The other woman ‘s eyes hold her fast.

“I am sorry for what I did. I was young and…”

“A skank.”

“Mam, please go. Willa and Beth are in daddy’s study. Why don’t you join them.”

“Alright.” She turns and walks stiffly away. When she is gone, they all seem to be able to take a breath again.

“So sorry, I…”

Kate shakes her head. “It is I who should be apologizing. She is your man. I should have never spoke to her like that, in front of you.”

“No, you have a right to your feelings. Okay, let’s start over. Simon, Kate, Leah, and David, welcome to Lallybroch. Please join me in the great room.”

She leads them that way.

“It is lovely.” Leah offers at entering the room.

“Yes, it is.” From Simon.

“Thank you. The house and grounds have been in our family for well over three hundred years.”

Her auntie and Claire have brought in tea. The children make a bee line for the biscuits.

“David. Leah. Manners.” Their mam says. They all take seats. Rose smiles at her new siblings.

“You may go ahead, if your parents say it is alright.”

They look at them with pleading eyes. Simon nods okay and Kate agrees.

“I know I told you who Rose is but allow me to make a full introduction. David and Leah Grant, meet Rose Fraser, your sister.” Simon says.

“Hi,” David nods to her, “good biscuits.”

“Hello. It is nice to meet you.” Leah offers her hand. She takes it and smiles at the lass.

“It is very nice to meet you both.”

She should have meet them as infants. There should be pictures of her cradling her baby brother and sister. Simon, watching them carefully, sees. He sighs.

“I am sorry you didn’t meet them sooner. Had I known…”

“Had we known. Oh I was right furious, at first.”

“She threw a cup at him.” David informs her.

“Thank you David. As I was saying, I was hurt and angry. But, he made a mistake twenty years ago. A mistake he hasn’t made since. Not that you are a mistake, just…”

“I understand.”

“We talked about it, after I calmed down. You are innocent in this. Our children are. You are siblings. Simon is your biological father. I am your stepmom. Family. We need to know each other. Enough time has been wasted.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

#my writing #outlander fanfic #the heart don't lie #chapter 33 #jamie and claire #outlander fandom #cannon divergence #modern au

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matbarzyy · 4 years

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Wasted Love (part 3) [T.S.]

A/N: I have no motivation to write so enjoy this even though I was supposed to make this chapter a lot longer. Hopefully I’ll be back with the rest of this series soon but who knows at this point lolz (getting this degree is going to end me)

Word count: 1932

Easter brought about yet another event at the rink. Alessia was quietly finishing up work in her office when 5pm rolled around, and she stretched into her seat before reaching for her phone. One last text from Claire had gone unanswered, but it was only one last confirmation of their plans for the night so Alessia didn’t make much of it.

Fridays were the only days everyone could really leave work on time, so she got up from her desk and began gathering her essentials back in her purse. She had plenty of time to get out, Claire was only meant to meet her in twenty minutes and they were hanging out at the bar across the street.

Ever since she had started taking time to be with the team after work Alessia had realised that letting Jordan believe she was working late was the best way for her to get some time with a friend.

“Allie let’s go!” Tyler barged into her office without so much as a knock. It startled her enough to make her jump, and she got ready to tell him off, the words about to leave her mouth until she saw the look of excitement on his face.

“Go where?” She softened, putting her bag over her shoulder.

“Come on,” he bounced on his feet and pulled her from behind her desk to drag her through the facility.

“What’s got you so excited?” Alessia exclaimed as she stumbled after him, following blindly and dodging a few people along the way.

She didn’t have to think much to know he was taking her to the rink, but what she didn’t understand was why. Tonight was a family skate, players with their wives and girlfriends, kids and other relatives. Alessia didn’t fit in there and she had already told Tyler she had other plans.

Tyler stopped abruptly when they reached their destination, and in her course Alessia almost sent them both toppling over. She still collided into his back, but he didn’t say anything about it.

“Look,” he motioned to the ring, decorated with a banner for the event and coloured fairy lights all over the place.

Families were on the ice, Alessia was able to spot Jamie among the others. The youngest players were messing around although mindful of the kids around, and the older ones taught their kids how to skate. Some held their babies, making them discover what being on the ice felt like for the first time.

Tonight was special and Alessia didn’t want to be in the middle of it. This was their own little universe, it was intimate and she was just one of their coworkers.

“Why do you want me to go?” She asked quietly because Tyler had mentioned she should come at least three times this week.

“Because now you’re with us, you should get to enjoy the fun parts of the job too. Weren’t you supposed to meet with a friend tonight?” He asked, watching her nod slowly. “Why don’t you tell her to come in, we’ll get her a pair of skates, it’ll be fun for everyone.”

Tyler’s excitement had died down, but he was still looking at her with the same expectant look in his eyes. His voice was calm, he used that soothing tone he always took to reassure her whenever she was stressed or upset, yet she still hesitated.

Jordan was the main thing on Alessia’s mind, and not in a positive way. His frustration about her staying out after work was still growing, the whole thing had escalated and Alessia didn’t want to upset him further.

“Ty, I really can’t stay late,”

“It’s five,” Tyler almost whined. “Live a little!” He made his tone cheerful again to get her to cave in.

He knew he had won the second she shook her head with a sigh, taking her phone out of her bag and texting Claire about the change of plans. She was too busy typing to see the way he beamed, but had Jamie been around he would have surely given Tyler the disapproving look he was growing accustomed to whenever he was around Allie.

What she did see was the way he bounced on his feet again as he got impatient waiting for her, and the corners of her lips rose. He could be such a child sometimes.

“Alright Seguin,” Alessia followed him to get a pair of skates, sitting on a bench to lace them. “You’re lucky I actually like skating,”

“Oh yeah?” His own skates replaced his shoes in what felt like half a second to Alessia. “Need help?” He noticed her pulling at the laces.

“I’m good,” she refused, finishing up fast enough and getting up again. The tightness around her feet was familiar, and she suddenly felt more excited about stepping onto the ice.

“Show me what you got,” Tyler motioned for her to go first.

In her confidence, Alessia forgot how many kids were on the ice on top of a bunch of reckless hockey players. She started off just fine and Tyler remained behind to watch, laughing at the way she showed off her skills, but as soon as a little girl cut off her trajectory she lost her balance.

Tyler stepped on the ice, gliding slowly to come help, but with a few awkward waves of her arms she almost regained her stability. She would have been just fine if someone hadn’t skated fast right next to her at that exact moment, startling her again and making her fall backwards.

Alessia’s exclamation when she hit the ice had Tyler rushing to be next to her in a few seconds.

“Are you okay?” He worried immediately, trying to see if she was hurt.

“You get slammed into the boards ten times harder and keep playing,” she winced as she pushed herself into a sitting position. “Of course I’m okay,” she reassured him and accepted his hand to get back to her feet. “Thanks,”

“I can see you’re a pro,” Tyler chuckled now that he was sure she was fine. “Thanks for the demo, champ.”

“I can skate!” Alessia defended herself, glaring at him and letting go of his hand to skate ahead of him, trying to prove her point.

“Yeah sure,” he laughed and ignored his protests, easily getting in front of her and turning around to skate backwards with her hands in his. “Let me just make sure you don’t end up on your ass again in less than ten seconds,”

“Rude,” she snorted but made no move to get out his hold.

They skated hand in hand for a while until Alessia’s phone pinged with yet another text that let her know Claire made it to the rink. They parted so that she could catch up with her friend and the two ended up holding hands as they talked and skated together.

“So this is your life now, uh?” Claire asked as they took a break on a bench.

“I mean, it’s actual work during the day but yeah,” Alessia leaned back against the wall behind them, taking in what she had achieved. “It still feels crazy that I made it here all on my own,”

“Well it’s not like Jordan would’ve been any help,” her friend snorted, earning a glare. “Oh come on,”

“You always make him sound so bad, we’ve been together for ages,” Alessia sighed and pouted a little, making her turn softer as she replied.

“No, you make him sound bad and I just put it in a less concealed way.” Claire brought her knee up on the bench to look at her. “When’s the last time you actually had a good time being around him?”

“We get along great at home,” her tone became defensive and Claire knew better than to try to have this conversation again.

“Okay,” she decided to drop it and stood back up. “Come on, let’s get back to it,”

Tyler saw them coming and stopped to let them step onto the ice without being trampled by the rest of the team. Most kids were tired now and off the ice, so things were getting a little rowdy.

“Ladies,” he motioned for them to go first, giving Alessia his stupidest grin to make her laugh.

“This is the first time you actually look like you have manners,” she teased because of something that had happened earlier during the week.

“Excuse me?” Tyler gasped, his hand over his hard to show his offense.

“You eat like an animal!” Alessia threw back, earning an eye roll and a whine from him.

“It was one time!” He complained before starting to make excuses for himself. “It didn’t have breakfast before practice and I was running late for a meeting, I had to be fast!”

“You’re disgusting,” she chuckled in response while Claire watched from the side, amused at the exchange.

“Oh I’m disgusting? You sure you wanna play that card in this situation?” He slowly inched closer to her, and since Alessia was facing him and had no chance of escaping by skating backwards she immediately started warning him.

“Tyler I swear to god I will- FUCK!” She screamed as he threw her over his shoulder and kept on skating. “I’ll kill you!” She tried to hit him but he was laughing too hard to care.

“Take it back!” He sped up, taking advantage of the space the others were clearing now that they were staring at the scene he was causing.

“Put me down you freak!” Alessia tried to wriggle out of his grasp and yelped when she felt his grip was less tight. At this speed she was too scared to fall from his shoulder if she moved too much.

“Insulting me isn’t helping,” Tyler said in a sing-song voice, a shit-eating grin taking up most of his face. He thought the situation was hilarious and he loved being the centre of attention.

“I’m sorry! You’re not disgusting! Just put me down!” Alessia pleaded, holding onto his jersey for dear life.

“There,” he laughed, helping her get steady on her skates. “See, that wasn’t so hard,”

“I hate you,” she grumbled as she adjusted her clothes and regained her balance.

Tyler gave her a playful eyeroll and held his hand out for her, which she didn’t hesitate to take so that they could skate back to the other side of the rink where Claire had stayed through the whole scene. She gave Alessia an unreadable look as she joined her again, and after skating and talking to them for a while Tyler went back to his team.

“You know…” Claire trailed off for a second, trying to find the right words as she once more noticed Tyler glancing back at them while he was supposedly busy with his friends. “I wouldn’t encourage you to like… cheat on someone, but that guy looks like he’s into you and he’s already a million times nicer than Jordan.” She eventually let out.

“Tyler?” Alessia almost choked on air. “No, god where did you get that idea? I’m sure he’s not interested, and it’s not like I’d be either. Jordan is… I’m with him and that’s not going to change anytime soon. I’d never do that to him.”

“I’m not sure Jordan thinks of you as highly as you think of him,” She watched as her friend shut her out once more, so she held back a sigh and tried once more to knock some sense into her. “Keep this one around, he looks like he’s a good friend for you.”

tags: @itrocksmysocks @kerwritesthings @pupsandpucks @shawnsreputation @whythough1319 @smit41 @glassdanse @fiveholegoal @brokeninsidebutnobodyknows @thefootballfaithfull

tumblr decided to be a bitch with the tags, strikethrough means I couldn’t get the tag to work.

Please reblog and let me know what you thought

#tyler seguin #dallas stars #segs #tyler seguin fic #tyler seguin fluff #tyler seguin angst #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine #tyler seguin imagine #wasted love #wasted love 3

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bad-bitch-beauchamp · 4 years

Text

Songs About Me: Whisky & Song (CH9)

A dinner is had, Claire shares a page from her notebook, and the truth comes out.

READ ON AO3

Jamie’s kitchen, mid-evening, early December, Louisburg Square, Beacon Hill, Boston

Jamie poured a few more fingers of Glenfiddich 12 into both of the tumblers on the counter and set down the bottle. He’d bought the bottle the first night Claire had come to his townhouse, hoping she’d notice how he’d pay attention to the detail about her escape in Scotland. She had noticed, of course, and rewarded him with a windfall of kisses. It was the night she’d learned he had been her neighbor for longer than they’d known each other, and the whisky served as just another reminder of their close connection. That night had followed Jamie into his dreams that night. Dreams, of Claire. After that night, he’d made sure to always have a bottle of Glenfiddich on hand for repeat performances. Tonight, he was hoping for more of the same.

“... Can ye believe it, Sassenach! I mean, every party with those two is a wild one but this one -- Christ! -- it was really something else!” Jamie was sitting at his island barstool facing her, but Claire’s mind was a thousand miles away.

“Hm? Oh yes, I’m sure it was a fun time. What happened next?” she asked absently.

Jamie furrowed his brows for just a moment and watched while she took a rather large drink from her glass. “Weel, that was mostly the end of the story, ken,” he replied.

She nodded slowly and took another large drink. “Yer not usually a closed-mouthed woman, Claire,” he sighed. “Care to share what yer thinking about? Something’s clearly eating ye up over there.” When she didn’t replied, he grinned and added, “Yer thoughts are sae loud I can nearly here them from way over here.”

That got a small smile from her at last. As she opened her mouth to finally spill her words all over him, a loud vibration buzzed from Jamie’s phone on the quartz counter. Without needing to look, Claire knew exactly what was about to happen: a cute blonde face would light up the screen, Jamie would silence the phone, and it would be shoved out of sight. Refusing to see it happen again, Claire blurted out, “Are you seeing someone else?”

Jamie’s hand, reaching toward the phone, settled back into his lap. “Am I what?”

“We never did have the “we’re exclusive” conversation, so it’s really not a big deal if you are.” Seeing his confused expression she continued. “I mean, you’re a grown man, you can do what you want, and who am I to stop you?”

“Who are ye to me?” Jamie quietly muttered, more to himself than to her.

“...It’s so often, and I wouldn’t mind, but it seems like a lie by omission, and after my ex, I don’t do lying. Secrets, but not lies. It’s been two months together and I really like this, Jamie. If you’re going in a different direction than me, it’s cool, I just need to know because that’s really not what I’m trying to do here and honestly, I thought we were on the same page with what we wanted…”

“Claire, wait--”

“...and I thought we were making plans together and if that’s not what you want, I want to readjust. Actually, I’d rather get out of it altogether…”

“Sassenach--”

“I’m just going to go, okay? Thanks for dinner, it’s been really fun. I’m sure I’ll see you around,” Claire rambled. In the span of two minutes, she’d gone from complete silence to packing up her purse and heading to the entryway to the front door. Before she could reach the handle, a strong hand gripped her upper arm and spun her around. Crystal blue eyes burned into her.

“I’m no’ letting ye go until I explain. Then, you can make yer choice. I will no’ make ye stay, but I hope ye’ll wait around to listen to me. Just for a moment.” She shuffled on the floor, trying to look anywhere but at him. “Please, Claire. Please don’t go yet.” There was something in his voice, a pleading , that made her completely unable to walk away from him. She nodded, and followed him back to the barstools.

“I’m sorry if you feel like I misled ye, a nighean. Ye deserve only the truth, so ye’ll have it. The calls are from my friend Annalise.” Claire’s head snapped, eyes narrowed. “I take it ye remember her. Yes, my ex. She’s going through a terrible breakup with her boyfriend Charlie, and now that so many of us have left Scotland for here, she’s really feeling alone. Even though we dated, we’ve always considered each other verra good friends. She’s needed someone, and I’m trying to be there for her now, like she’s been for me.” Claire’s look softened, but only slightly. “Please, Claire. Ye have to believe I’d never hide anything from ye. She’s nothing more than a friend tae me.” He held both her hands in his tentatively, lest she tried to pull back.

“Why did you hide her from me? I’d never keep you from a friend, but Jamie, you have to understand. She’s a beautiful woman, and you were acting secretive, and--”

“Please dinna mistake dedication for secretiveness.”

“Dedication?”

“Aye. Dedication to ye. To our relationship. To our time together. Annalise is special to me, but nothing is as important tae me as you, Claire. Nothing. I’m trying my best to be a good friend for her, but nothing compares to ye. I don’t pick up the phone because I don’t want to take up my time with ye away on the phone. I didna consider how it must look to ye. Please know, ye are everything , to me.”

Claire blinked, trying to absorb the weight of what he’d told her. Still trying to process his admission and fighting through the fog of more than a few whiskies, a quiet but steady voice pulled her from her reverie.

“Yer face is my heart, Sassenach, and the love of you is my soul. Ye cannae tell by now?”

Her brow furrowed. Surely he didn’t say that. He didn’t mean that. He couldn’t have. Slowly, she moved her eyes from her hands in his up his chest, to his heartbeat pounding in his throat, to clear blue eyes.

“You… you love me?”

The edge of his mouth quirked up and his eyes crinkled in the corners. “Aye, I do. I’ve wanted ye from the moment ye fell into me at the bar, and I’ve loved ye since I found ye sitting in my shop, singing yer wee songs with the sunlight hitting ye from behind. I loved ye then, and I’ve loved ye every day since then. I loved ye then, and I love ye now, Claire.” He stood from his seat and stepped closer, bringing her to her feet. “I love you. No one else. I loved ye yesterday, today, tomorrow… as long as ye’ll have me, I will love you.”

Not for the first time, words were failing Claire. Whether it was hearing that Jamie Fraser loved her or the whisky, she couldn’t tell. Her eyes finally fell to his chest, brow still furrowed. Everything around her was heavy: the weight of his words, the alcohol in her veins, the scent of him so close to her -- all ocean spray and damp earth and old books -- looming over her, an arm draped around her wait and one in her hair… everything was so heavy. Breathe, Beauchamp. Finally having the confidence to face him yet again, she prepared to lay her feelings bare just has he had moments before. Meeting his eyes, she found apprehension. He thinks he said something wrong. He thinks he overstepped.

“Wait here.” She left a stunned Jamie in the kitchen and ran back to the front door when she left her purse. Returning with a black leather notebook in hand, she thumbed through the pages. Jamie watched in confused wonderment while she searched for something in particular. Finding what she was looking for, she handed the book to him. With a sigh, he sat back on the tall stool to read what was so important to her.

Scribbled on two adjacent pages were words scrawled in black ink. On the left, a column of French words strung together in Claire’s hand:

Je te laisserai des mots

En-dessous de ta porte

En-dessous de la lune qui chante

Tout près de la place où tes pieds passent

Cachés dans les trous d’un temps d’hiver

Et quand tu es seule pendant un instant…

Embrasse-moi,

Quand tu voudras

Embrasse-moi,

Quand tu voudras

Embrasse-me,

Quant tu voudras.

On the second page, with a few words scribbled out and replaced, lay another column:

I will leave you words

Under your door,

Below the singing moon

Near the place where you pass by

Hidden in the hole of wintertime

And when you’re alone

For a moment

Kiss me

Whenever you want

Kiss me

Whenever you want

Kiss me

Whenever you want.

A clear line of tears shimmered on red lashes, blue eyes became clearer. “You love me, too.” Blue sky met whisky. He stood, discarding the notebook on the counter. “Ye love me.” He couldn’t look away and continued toward her. He took her hands in his for the second time, searching her face for any sign of misunderstanding, finding none when she tearfully smiled and slowly nodded her affirmation. “Ye love me, too…?”

“Aye,” trying her best Scottish imitation, “I do.”

Seeing the honesty, the vulnerability, in her eyes, he kissed her. No, not kissed. Absolutely devoured. He held her face in his large hands, cradling her against him. “Tell me.”

She leaned into the force of him, closing her eyes for just a moment. When she opened them to watch him, she hoped he could read her face as easily as he always said he could. Her hand covered his, and she smiled. “James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser, I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

His eyes danced over her face, memorizing her features in this moment. “Christ, Claire,” a single tear ran down his stubbled cheek. “To hear ye say it, it’s… it’s more than I ever imagined.”

She let out a trembling sigh, stroking his face, the path of his single tear with her thumb. His stare traveled downward in thought, meeting hers again in question. “The song from the shop, the one in French,” Claire smiled shyly, letting her gaze drop to the floor, and back up at him through wet lashes. “Is it… is that the one that…”

“I said I wrote about you sometimes,” she admitted, a smile unbidden breaking free from the corners of her mouth. “Do you like it?”

“Do I… Do I like it?” He wondered at this woman before him, in complete awe. “Aye, I love it. Nearly as much as I love you, mo chridhe.” Unable to hold himself back from her, he feverishly kissed her. A hand in her hair, an arm snaked around her waist, she was positively crushed to him. Claire moaned into his kisses, seeking purchase of him with her mouth. He only held her tighter with each kiss. Claire searched to bring them closer yet, but Jamie pulled away first. Breaking for air, he cupped her face gently, and stared into the face he’d treasure, he’d love , for the rest of his days. “You are everything, to me.”

#in which tessaactually tries fan fic #songs about me fic #they looooooove each other!#jamie x claire #outlander fan fic

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anoutlandishfanfic · 4 years

Text

The Alaskan Endeavor: Ch2 - Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner

So, again, this chapter update (can I call them PUPdates? they’re now PUPDATES) is in celebration of another race that finished up yesterday morning -- the Kuskokwim 300 aka The Kusko300, which is one of if not THE most competitive middle distance race in Western Alaska. We’ll get to the pups and more about racing in the next chapter but HERE WE HAVE THE MEETING Y’ALL HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR.

You can find chapter one here or over at AO3!!

Claire That evening

The Murray’s residence wasn’t far from my flat above the Abernathy’s garage — nothing in this tiny hamlet was — and I decided to walk the four blocks, taking in a remarkable summer’s evening.

Joe had warned me that the shift in daylight hours was more extreme here in Kozebue — twenty-six miles above the Arctic Circle — than where we’d reconnected on Kodiak Island… and I had to admit he was right. I’d made good use of the black out curtains that were installed in the bedroom, shutting out the sun that insisted on shining well into the night and starting up again ungodly early in the morning. I knew I’d have no trouble making my way back on foot after dinner.

It would still be broad daylight.

I rounded the final corner and scanned the lane for my destination…

“It’s a blue house with white trim… second on the left,” Joe’s wife Gail had easily informed me, for the Abernathy’s and the Murray’s were old friends.

Gail’s eyes had held the same suspicious twinkle that Jenny’s had when she’d invited me for dinner and I had a sinking suspicion that I was about to be set up on a blind date, hosted by Jenny Murray herself. My new patient had mentioned she had a brother when she was in earlier and if I were the betting sort, I’d place my life savings on him being the man in question.

How on earth did you let yourself get roped into this, Beauchamp? I sighed ruefully to myself as I spotted the abode.

Crossing the street, I took a few deep breaths, trying to steady my pounding heart as I got closer to the Murray’s front door. It was no use, of course, for it had firmly lodged itself in my throat about a block and a half back, and I was left trembling slightly as I mounted the front steps.

Wiping sweaty palms on my pants, I lifted my hand and knocked. Once — twice — three times.

… Jamie

“Can you get that?” Jenny shouted from the kitchen, the usual clamor of my nieces and nephew interfering but not obscuring her words.

Passing the youngest back to her father, I stood and answered, “Aye, I’ve got it!”

I wiped at the deposit of crumbs that wee Katie had left behind on my shirtfront, tugging at the hem in an attempt to flatten out the wrinkles pressed into it by the same. I shook my head and gave it up, knowing it was useless and that it shouldn’t really matter anyway.

Rolling my eyes at the ridiculous concern for my own appearance, I turned into the front hall and padded quickly down the plush rug to the door.

I turned the knob and pulled — then stopped dead as the door opened.

Christ, she was beautiful.

Her pale cheeks were slightly flushed, which made the small smattering of freckles across her nose stand out like brilliant stars. The curls were coming out of a plait that was draped over one shoulder and it gave her a delightfully adventurous air. She was a brunette like Jenny, but not nearly quite so dark. The light streaming in from behind her set brilliant copper highlights aglow as she flipped the thick queue away, making it disappear behind her.

One perfectly arched brow rose in question of me — and I knew I was staring — but the ability to form coherent speech left me entirely as her eyes locked on to mine.

Brown would be a woefully inaccurate word to describe such a hue as hers. They were rich like a fine whisky, a deep amber that all at once soothed and pierced your soul.

Pull yerself together, you clotheid.

I cleared my throat, trying to regain some semblance of composure and took a step back, sweeping a hand to usher her in.

“You, ah, must be Dr Claire,” I stammered, my lips still not completely able to do my bidding. “I’m Jamie, Jenny’s brother.”

Comprehension lit her eyes and she chuckled softly.

God, that sound.

It sent shockwaves up and down my spine and stood the hair on the back of my neck on end.

What I wouldn’t do to make her laugh like that again.

“Tell me, Jamie,” she kept her voice low, a conspiratorial gleam sneaking into her eyes. “Have Jenny and Gail been playing matchmaker with us?”

Raking a hand through my hair, I confessed dryly, “They’ve been trying to set me up for years.”

She tipped her head back and laughed outright and freely at my confirmation, commenting, “I thought so, but then I’d only met your sister this morning.”

“I’ve known her my whole life,” I grinned back at her. “Once Jen gets an idea in her head, it’s best to let her have at it ‘til it peters out on its own... unless it involves that wee fiend of hers.”

Delicate, slender fingers lifted to her lips as the color deepened in her cheeks, amusement still high in her voice, “Are you talking about Roger?”

“Right! Yes!” It was my turn to laugh. “You’ve met the numpty yourself.”

She grinned, “I’ve had the pleasure, yes.”

“Did she tell you he’s a service dog drop out?” I shook my head in mock derision.

Her eyes grew as big as saucers, nearly dropping the bag in her hand as she burst, “No!!”

“Oh, aye!” I scoffed, but my smile crept back in and betrayed my amusement at the whole ordeal.

“Too friendly… and easily distracted.”

“Are you two done bletherin’ out here?” My brother in law Ian stuck his head into the hallway, succinctly interrupting us with a knowing look.

“The food’s gettin’ cold!”

… Claire

Tucked between Jamie and his seven year old namesake, dinner was far from a dull affair. Jenny proved to be a remarkable cook and the table conversation ranged in topics from a nuanced detail of racing — that is, mushing — to my favorite animal.

“Do you mean in general,” I tested the waters, assembling another forkful of roast and potatoes, “or in a specific class or order?”

The little boy’s eyes lit up and I knew I’d found a topic that he particularly enjoyed… which was a stroke of luck for me, being that animals and their care was my field of expertise.

Thank God it wasn’t dinosaurs.

“Mammals!” He eagerly narrowed the field, then zeroed in even further, “What’s your favorite African mammal?!”

“Oh, that’s easy! A giraffe!” I supplied, my smile matching his. “I got to see them in the wild, you know… in Tanzania.”

This caught the attention of the rest of the table and began to field questions left and right about my time on the Serengeti. I didn't mind, as they were happy memories, and soon won over both the younger Jamie and his five year old sister Maggie with tales of elephants and zebras and all of the animals they’d only read about in books or seen on television.

“Did you see any lions?” Little Maggie’s voice dropped into what I supposed was her version of a whisper — as if one were right beside us — and she nearly vibrated with excitement as she asked again, “Did you see any lions, Dr Claire?!”

I heard Jamie, the elder and my supposed date for the evening, chuckle beside me and I wondered just what sort of mischief this little one could get into when she set her mind to it.

“I did see lions too, Maggie,” I assured her, taking on her affected stage whisper. “We went in a truck at night and had big flashlights and saw them getting a drink of water.”

“Dey sirsty,” two year old Katie informed the table proudly, making all of the adults grin.

I bit my lip to keep from chuckling at her innocent attempt at being involved in the conversation, but agreed, “They get very thirsty.”

“How’d ye wind up in Alaska, then?”

This turn in conversation came from Jamie’s father, an older man by the name of Brian.

“I went to university with Joe Abernathy in Seattle,” I supplied. “We went separate ways after graduation but I ran into him again when I was visiting my uncle on Kodiak Island… Joe offered me a position at his clinic and I couldn’t refuse.”

“He’s done a lot of good wi’ that practice of his,” Brian commented. “Been a dream of his for some time now.”

Nodding, I smiled at the memory of Joe’s eager rants and rails, “He spoke quite a bit about it in school. I knew how much it meant to him and was eager to help him in his cause.”

“He almost worked himself to death before you came along,” Jenny snorted, then shot me an apologetic look. “Bein’ the only vet in the Northwest Borough made for long hours an’ no rest.”

“That’s why I wanted to come… to ease the burden a bit.”

“Well, then you’re a saint, Dr Claire,” she sighed, surmising with a shake of her head.

“No,” I assured her quietly. “I’m just plain old Claire Beauchamp.”

… Jamie. After Dinner.

“Wait just a minute,” I protested. “You walked here?!”

We were at the front door again, this time in full control of my faculties, but the woman before me was quickly turning out to be more of an complexity than I ever imagined possible.

Her brow furrowed at this, as if she hadn’t thought of the incongruity of her walking the mile from the Abernathy’s to here on foot.

“Yes… why?”

“Well, it’s… it’s just that…'' I stammered, flummoxed. “Don’t you have somethin’ to drive?”

“Of course,” she looked at me as if I’d sprouted five heads from my shoulders. “I have a perfectly good vehicle, but why drive it four blocks when it’s beautiful outside and I can walk?”

I opened my mouth to respond to this and found I didn’t have a reasonable answer. She found great amusement in this and crossed her arms, waiting for me to respond.

Shaking my head, I gave it up and couldn’t help but smile as I offered to walk her home.

This took her by complete surprise and her jaw dropped, “Why?!”

“Well,” I pulled at the back of my neck, trying to come up with something and shrugged helplessly, “like you said… it’s a beautiful evening.”

Her brows nearly rose to her hairline, not buying this for one moment.

“Look, it’s the polite thing to do, aye? I know you live at the Abernathy’s because Joe told me… I’ll leave just as soon as you’ve made it to the front door, I promise,” I insisted. “Nothin more.”

She contemplated this, then clarified, “Just a walk?”

I dropped my hands, swinging my hands away from my sides in a clearing motion and then against them again with a soft pat.

“Just a walk.”

#outlander #outlander fanfic #the alaskan endeavor #the alaskan endeavor au #chapter 2 guess who's coming to dinner

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