#SO much to say about murtagh's thoughts on command and responsibility

[saphira-approves]

Okay so I finished Murtagh last night and I think I’m just going to put a lot of my slightly more coherent general thoughts here under a readmore. Spoilers ahead! Beware!

Right off the bat I want to bring us back to The Fork, The Witch, and The Worm. Not to Essie (although reliving that encounter from Murtagh’s perspective was EXQUISITE), but to Eragon, because the thing I love most about that story is that Eragon is glad to see his brother, even from afar, and is glad to see he’s alright, and hopes that Murtagh will one day join him at Mt. Arngor. We’ve talked recently on the blog about ill feelings and condemnation towards Murtagh during the war, especially on Eragon’s part, but the ending of The Fork makes it clear that—while I would love to see Eragon acknowledge and work through them—Eragon no longer holds those feelings, and in fact really wants the chance to reconnect with his brother and his friend, because he loved him like a brother before he even knew they were related, and after everything that’s happened, he loves him still—even if Murtagh is going to have some trouble believing or internalizing it.

And so I present the theme of this initial reading response: Murtagh is so, so loved, to an extent that he does not fully realize. He knows that Thorn loves him, obviously, but I believe it’s significant that—even though he has some Complicated™️ thoughts about Selena and harbors resentment towards her for, in his mind, choosing Eragon over himself—the memories of her that we actually get to see/“hear” (page 90 my beloved) are fully memories of Selena’s love for him. “…beautiful boy” anyone? “My strong boy?” That is her BABY and she LOVES HIM. Also, again, DESPITE HIS RESENTMENT, Selena’s love is the REASON HE KEEPS HIS SCAR! Scar lore alert! Scar lore alert! SELENA WAS THERE AND SHE’S THE ONE WHO HEALED HIM! (though I am still partial to thinking Brom was involved. I’ll write about that later it doesn’t matter right now)

(Also, on a bit of a lighter note, HIS HORSE TOY?????? Horse girl Murtagh CONFIRMED!!!! Little me would have been so jealous. …on a completely different note, I have woodworking connections and access to real horse hair. Hm. The Ideas.)

And then Tornac, son of Tereth, may your name live on forever. THE FIRST MEMORY WE GET OF TORNAC IS A HUG. THE FIRST TIME HE HUGS MURTAGH. MURTAGH HE LOVES YOU SO MUCH DO YOU KNOW??? I KNOW YOU KNOW A LITTLE BIT BUT DO YOU KNOW????? And the way he LEAPS to Murtagh’s defense when he falls in their escape, he REFUSES to let Murtagh languish in Urû’baen, that’s his BOY, his BEAUTIFUL STRONG BOY, that’s HIS SON, NO TAKE BACKSIES, MORZAN! He sees Murtagh’s darkness, yes, but more importantly he sees Murtagh’s goodness, and he knows Galbatorix will do everything in his power to destroy it, and that is something that Tornac simply cannot abide. You remember how I posted about Brom saying it’s easy to die for what you believe in, and then like ten pages later he dies for Eragon? Yeah. Yeah that one. That post. Do you see the point I’m making?

Tornac died for Murtagh. Selena did too, I’m pretty sure—it’s never been explicitly stated, in this book or the rest of the Cycle, but we know Selena was anxious to leave Carvahall as soon as Eragon was born, and that she died shortly after returning to Murtagh. I think Murtagh knows, on some level, but I also think that actually acknowledging it is going to break him just a little bit. Selena left Eragon and returned to him, presumably to spirit Murtagh to Carvahall as well, but she left too early. She wasn’t recovered. The real tragedy of this is that, if she’d left any later, she might truly have been too late—Morzan had been killed, and Murtagh would have been collected to Urû’baen before she reached him. Depending on how much she was coordinating with Brom, she might have known this, and made the choice to return to Murtagh anyway, because it was the easiest choice in the world. Eragon and Murtagh both believe that Selena left them. As Murtagh believes Selena chose Eragon over him, I’m pretty sure Eragon believes the inverse. In truth, Selena was trying to choose both of them, to save both of them. It’s a tragedy that she failed, but the most important thing about such a tragedy is that the love is there. It didn’t save them, not at first, not until much later, but the love is there and it matters because those are her babies, those are her sons, and she would gladly die for them. She did die for them. It was easy; she believed in them.

So yeah, I think eventually Eragon and Murtagh are gonna have a talk, and some revelations are going to be made, and a good long cry is going to be had all around. Catharsis! They need it!

But that’s not all! Murtagh is loved not only by the dead and the distant, but by the living and the near, too. Up to this point, the werecats we’ve met have been aloof, proud, intentionally distant. I always got the sense that Solembum likes Eragon and Saphira, but I don’t know that he would call them friends, even if Eragon and Saphira would, and he’s the most in-depth werecat we’ve met. But now we also have Carabel.

Carabel, who, from her position within Gil'ead, watches the people around them, and discerns their character: this is a skill I would say she has honed to near-perfection. When we meet her, she is desperate, though she hides it well. She sees Murtagh, and she measures his character, and what she sees is enough to make her take a chance on him, and she's right. Murtagh saves Silna, compromising his own principles to do so—swearing an oath he knows he'll have to break—and is so clearly relieved to see Silna safe with Carabel, despite the deceptions. We know, also, that Selena had been liked enough by Solembum for him to speak with her, and I wouldn't be surprised to discover that Selena was at least respected by werecats, if not outright known as a friend; it's possible that this, too, helped push Carabel to take a chance on Murtagh, though she makes no comment about it. Whatever the case, ultimately it is Murtagh's character that she gambles on, and Murtagh being simply who he is fulfills her hopes—not only in saving Silna, but his kindness towards her even when she was difficult, carrying her only when it was necessary and setting her on her own paws when he deemed it safe. Just in being himself, he earns love from two strangers, and the respect of an entire race.

(This echoes throughout the book, in all of Murtagh's interactions with children—he cares so much about kids. Not just as an abstract moral stance: he truly, genuinely cares for children on a deeply personal level. Essie in Ceunon; the two boys in Gil'ead he gives coins to, twice, and reprimanding their father for using them to pick marks; Silna; the children in Nal Gorgoth. In telling his story to Nasuada, he broke when he reached the children he slaughtered under Bachel's control.)

And Alín! Alín, who was raised to revere dragons, who cannot help but idolize Thorn. She is terrified of Murtagh, as a stranger and a strange man, but his connection to a dragon allows her to view him in another light. I can write so many essays about Alín, I'm probably going to, but here I'll just say this: despite her circumstances, despite how she was taught, despite how thoroughly she has been programmed by the cult of the Dreamers, the simple truth of Murtagh's compassion gave her the room to question, to think for herself, to ask herself if what she has been taught and raised to believe is truly right. Murtagh doesn't make the decision for her, he physically can't—it is Alín herself who finds the strength to break herself free, inspired by Murtagh, but not wholly because of him.

And in the dungeons of Nal Gorgoth, Murtagh meets Uvek, an Urgal shaman, and can I just say: I would kill and die for Uvek. He's got similarities to Murtagh that aren't discussed in plaintext, but are easy to draw: they both tried to be alone in the wild, thinking it would be better for them—different reasons, but they came to the same conclusion—but both have come to discover that they are better off in a pack. With friends. With brothers. With family. (As an aside, I really hope Uvek becomes one of the first Urgal riders.) I love the metaphor they share, about trust being a knife with a blade for a handle; and I love that once they decide to trust each other, they both jump in, feet first, 100% on board. That's always been Murtagh's method anyway (Eragon-era Murtagh my beloved, looking after this stupid dumb kid with his whole ass), and it is incredibly refreshing to see someone else with the exact same mindset throw their whole lot in with Murtagh. The gentle forehead bump! Uvek loves this crazy squishy Murtagh-man.

And finally, finally, Nasuada. The Guinevere to his Lancelot, and there's not even an Arthur for them to dance around, except for the Arthur of Public Opinion that would prefer to view Murtagh as dread Mordred. I couldn't keep from laughing, just a little bit, every time Murtagh was encouraged to/shown visions of taking the throne, because lol! Nah, you dumbasses, that's the love of his life for whom he broke his own shackles and turned on his tormentor and slave-master. The day he turns against her of his own volition is the day he is No Longer Murtagh. He keeps the newly-minted gold crown so that he can keep a piece of her with him—a coin!! A tiny little portrait!! An accurate tiny little portrait, to be sure, but one he'll soon be able to find in any decently full purse!! He may not want to admit it to himself, he may try to distance himself for her own good and the good of her rule, but he cannot truly deny his heart. As for Nasuada himself, she doesn't even hesitate to take him in—and she would have no reason to, having heard about Gil'ead, except that she knows him, she has seen his true being in a way only Thorn can relate to, and even in uncertainty she cannot believe evil of him. She's the one who reaches out to comfort him when he crumbles in telling his story, she supports him without a word when he struggles to stand, and she wants so badly for him to stay, Public Opinion be damned. She won't destroy what she's built, but she will move heaven and earth to be able to keep him near, for as long as he wishes to remain.

This whole book, really, was just a chorus screaming to Murtagh, "YOU ARE LOVED!! YOU ARE WORTHY OF LOVE AND YOU ARE LOVED!! IT IS THE LOVE THAT ENDS WARS, THAT DEFEATS FEAR, THAT PERSISTS IN THE FACE OF DEATH AND RUIN!! YOU ARE LOVED!!" And maybe he can't hear it yet, not with his ears, but his heart, eventually, might start to catch him up. And I absolutely cannot wait to see it.

#murtagh spoilers #one (1) aspect of my Many Many Thoughts on this wonderful beautiful brick of a book #anyway. i'm so glad we got to see murtagh be a dumbass. there were some eragon levels of dumbassery here. #'i don't have anger issues' sir yes you DO they're just not as bad as your father's #'i don't have anger issues' *proceeds to make decisions driven by righteous anger* #also HIGH KEY accidentally skipped a couple lines in lyreth's introduction and thought they were exes. whoops. #i mean they still could be. i might write that. we love a shitty ex in this series. #anyway this is far from all of my thoughts. i have so much to say about Alín. so much to say about thorn and his claustrophobia. #SO much to say about murtagh's thoughts on command and responsibility #i'm going to be here A Lot in the coming weeks #yeah i’ll do my nanowrimo goal today but first TWO THOUSAND WORDS ABOUT MURTAGH

[modern-inheritance]

Modern Inheritance: Father and Son (Ask Fill)

Anonymous asked: When does Eragon discover that Brom’s his father?

“He said that Morzan is my father.”

The silence that filled the tent made Eragon’s chest ache more than any of the injuries that now littered his body. Saphira reached out to him, trying to comfort the hurt, but he recoiled. This was his burden to carry, and he’d carry it alone.

Nasuada stared with her lips parted, hanging on the edge of saying something but seeming unable to decide what would be the best response.

Roran’s face was frozen in shock, but a familiar flush was creeping up his neck that signaled he was about to explode to Eragon’s defense like he would when they were children and the other kids mocked his lack of parentage.

For once, Eragon just wanted his cousin to stay quiet as he turned his gaze to Arya, trying to gauge her reaction. He didn’t know what he wanted to see. Disgust? Pity? Sympathy?

Her eyes were wide and a mix of gobsmacked surprise and…was that apprehension?…colored her expression.

But Arya wasn’t looking at him.

The elf was looking at Brom.

And the tent exploded into noise once again.

“HE SAID WHAT?!”

Eragon staggered as Brom rushed him, a wild light in his eyes as he shoved Roran aside and seized the young Rider by his upper arms. “You believed him?!” He could feel the man’s muscles trembling with rage even as he shook Eragon roughly. “How could a monster like Morzan spawn a man like you?!”

Out the corner of his eye Eragon saw Roran already regaining his feet as Arya vaulted clear across the staging table to get to his side. The elf was millimeters away from yanking the enraged Rider off when Brom suddenly stopped shaking the young man and locked eyes with him.

“You’re MY son, dammit!”

Eragon’s hammering heart juddered to a stop.

“You’ve always been my son.”

Brom’s chest heaved as Arya pulled him away from the shellshocked Eragon. She was watching him now, looking for any hint as to how the younger Rider wanted to proceed. She released her grip on Brom and stepped back when Eragon gave her a shaky nod before turning to Nasuada.

Eragon bowed. He hoped that the stiffness of his stance hid the trembling of his limbs.

“If you’ll excuse us for a moment.”

With that he grabbed Brom by the shoulder of his armored coat and dragged him out of the tent, leaving a stumbled trail of burnt and broken soil crust in their wake.

~

Eragon didn’t stop until he, Brom and Saphira were far enough from the command tent to cast deafening wards on their conversation. The moment they were in place the younger man rounded on the elder.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Brom flinched. There was so much emotion in Eragon’s voice, a terrible mix of anger and betrayal that nearly masked the undercurrent of confusion and hurt. The sound made him want to throw his arms around the boy. He held back, knowing that right now, Eragon wasn’t ready. He wanted answers, and Brom would do his best to give them.

So he took a deep breath. “I couldn’t. If word reached the wrong ears that you were my son it would have put you in so much danger. I wanted you to grow up with a family that could give you a normal life, not force you to live every day in fear that the King would one day discover us.” Unable to stop himself, Brom reached out to put his hands on the furious young man’s shoulders. “Eragon, I wanted to protect you–”

Eragon gnashed his teeth and shoved Brom’s hands away. “But that was THEN! Did you ever stop to think maybe, once we all were already running from Galbatorix, to tell me who you were? The whole time we traveled, you never ONCE gave us an inkling–”

‘He told me, Little One.’ Saphira lowered her head to her partner. Eragon stared at her with shock. ‘I’m sorry. I wanted so badly to tell you, but before he told me anything Brom made me swear oaths to keep it secret unless absolutely necessary.’ She brushed her snout against his arm. ‘I’m sorry.’

Saphira could feel him wrestling with the revelation, the twinges of betrayal and questions of who he could trust if not her to share everything. Her own regret and shame at being locked in her promise seeped across their link, and with a pang of guilt Eragon’s thoughts came to clarity. She had wanted to tell him, and would have if she could. She was not to blame for this.

“That was wrong of me.” Brom bowed his head. “I shouldn’t have burdened you with this, Saphira, especially under such oaths. I…I wanted at least someone to be able to tell Eragon if I–” He stopped. “I’m sorry.”

“That doesn’t–” Eragon cut himself off, the cauldron of emotions inside him boiling over. All his life, he wondered who his father was. He loved his family, Garrow, Roran, Marian, but there was something inside that he always craved. And now, to know he had been denied it when it was right there, so close to him this whole time….

He exploded.

“Even in Ellesméra, probably the safest place in all Alagaësia, you didn’t tell me!” Eragon jabbed a finger into Brom’s chest, nearly staggering the older man with his new strength. “I can’t believe you! Tell me, if Murtagh hadn’t assumed I was Morzan’s blood too, were you ever going to claim me as your son?! What, were you too ashamed of me while Durza’s scar made me an in–”

And suddenly arms were around him, squeezing tight. The familiar scent of sweet tobacco smoke, warm canvas, leather and sandalwood washed through Eragon’s senses. It evoked memories of their travels, of the nights spent at the campfire learning magic and swordplay.

But even deeper still, lost in the reaches of his oldest memories, the feeling of Brom’s arms around him recalled the days spent in the storyteller’s tiny home while Garrow and Marian worked the fields. His patience with Eragon’s neverending questions. How, without him knowing it, Brom made sure his son was fed, sparked his interest in the world around him, did his best to guide him on difficult choices. How the old man always made sure his door was open to him, for advice, stories, or simply someone to sit with in troubled times.

He realized, then, that Brom was shaking as he tightened his grip on his son. Hot tears splashed on the shoulders of his armor, beading up on the aramid polymer.

“Stars above, I’ve never been ashamed of you.” Brom shuddered in a gasp, then let words pent up for years pour out of him. “You’ve always been my son, Eragon. I was so afraid that…that I would lose you too. I don’t know a thing about being a father, and after all that I’ve done and all I lost I just…I couldn’t. I couldn’t let that touch you.

“I wanted more than anything to tell you. I was just too damn scared. I’m so sorry. There’s nothing I can do to make up for the past, but–”

Brom froze.

Eragon settled his arms around his father, and hugged him back.

He could feel his own throat tightening as he spoke, voice free from the conflict that it was filled with before. “You dummy.” Eragon felt Brom break out into fresh tears of relief as he added, “You realize you’re everything I wanted in a dad, right?”

#Modern Inheritance #inheritance cycle #eragon #modern inheritance stories #the cyclists #brom #saphira #eragon bromsson #arya #roran #nasuada #fatherhood #father and son #morzan #murtagh #eldest (inheritance) #brom is eragon's dad #brom is also everyone's dad #but eragon's the most #family #resolution #modern inheritance asks #modern inheritance fills #brom is a big softie and we love him

[weirdponytail]

When does Eragon discover that Brom’s his father?

“He said that Morzan is my father.”

The silence that filled the tent made Eragon’s chest ache more than any of the injuries that now littered his body. Saphira reached out to him, trying to comfort the hurt, but he recoiled. This was his burden to carry, and he’d carry it alone. 

Nasuada stared with her lips parted, hanging on the edge of saying something but seeming unable to decide what would be the best response. 

Roran’s face was frozen in shock, but a familiar flush was creeping up his neck that signaled he was about to explode to Eragon’s defense like he would when they were children and the other kids mocked his lack of parentage. 

For once, Eragon just wanted his cousin to stay quiet as he turned his gaze to Arya, trying to gauge her reaction. He didn’t know what he wanted to see. Disgust? Pity? Sympathy? 

Her eyes were wide and a mix of gobsmacked surprise and...was that apprehension?...colored her expression. 

But Arya wasn’t looking at him.

The elf was looking at Brom. 

And the tent exploded into noise once again.

“HE SAID WHAT?!” 

Eragon staggered as Brom rushed him, a wild light in his eyes as he shoved Roran aside and seized the young Rider by his upper arms. “You believed him?!” He could feel the man’s muscles trembling with rage even as he shook Eragon roughly. “How could a monster like Morzan spawn a man like you?!”

Out the corner of his eye Eragon saw Roran already regaining his feet as Arya vaulted clear across the staging table to get to his side. The elf was millimeters away from yanking the enraged Rider off when Brom suddenly stopped shaking the young man and locked eyes with him. 

“You’re MY son, dammit!” 

Eragon’s hammering heart juddered to a stop.

“You’ve always been my son.”

Brom’s chest heaved as Arya pulled him away from the shellshocked Eragon. She was watching him now, looking for any hint as to how the younger Rider wanted to proceed. She released her grip on Brom and stepped back when Eragon gave her a shaky nod before turning to Nasuada.

Eragon bowed. He hoped that the stiffness of his stance hid the trembling of his limbs. 

“If you’ll excuse us for a moment.”

With that he grabbed Brom by the shoulder of his armored coat and dragged him out of the tent, leaving a stumbled trail of burnt and broken soil crust in their wake. 

~

Eragon didn’t stop until he, Brom and Saphira were far enough from the command tent to cast deafening wards on their conversation. The moment they were in place the younger man rounded on the elder.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

Brom flinched. There was so much emotion in Eragon’s voice, a terrible mix of anger and betrayal that nearly masked the undercurrent of confusion and hurt. The sound made him want to throw his arms around the boy. He held back, knowing that right now, Eragon wasn’t ready. He wanted answers, and Brom would do his best to give them.

So he took a deep breath. “I couldn’t. If word reached the wrong ears that you were my son it would have put you in so much danger. I wanted you to grow up with a family that could give you a normal life, not force you to live every day in fear that the King would one day discover us.” Unable to stop himself, Brom reached out to put his hands on the furious young man’s shoulders. “Eragon, I wanted to protect you–”

Eragon gnashed his teeth and shoved Brom’s hands away. “But that was THEN! Did you ever stop to think maybe, once we all were already running from Galbatorix, to tell me who you were? The whole time we traveled, you never ONCE gave us an inkling–”

‘He told me, Little One.’ Saphira lowered her head to her partner. Eragon stared at her with shock. ‘I’m sorry. I wanted so badly to tell you, but before he told me anything Brom made me swear oaths to keep it secret unless absolutely necessary.’ She brushed her snout against his arm. ‘I’m sorry.’

Saphira could feel him wrestling with the revelation, the twinges of betrayal and questions of who he could trust if not her to share everything. Her own regret and shame at being locked in her promise seeped across their link, and with a pang of guilt Eragon’s thoughts came to clarity. She had wanted to tell him, and would have if she could. She was not to blame for this.

“That was wrong of me.” Brom bowed his head. “I shouldn’t have burdened you with this, Saphira, especially under such oaths. I...I wanted at least someone to be able to tell Eragon if I–” He stopped. “I’m sorry.”

“That doesn’t–” Eragon cut himself off, the cauldron of emotions inside him boiling over. All his life, he wondered who his father was. He loved his family, Garrow, Roran, Marian, but there was something inside that he always craved. And now, to know he had been denied it when it was right there, so close to him this whole time…. 

He exploded.

“Even in Ellesméra, probably the safest place in all Alagaësia, you didn’t tell me!” Eragon jabbed a finger into Brom’s chest, nearly staggering the older man with his new strength. “I can’t believe you! Tell me, if Murtagh hadn’t assumed I was Morzan’s blood too, were you ever going to claim me as your son?! What, were you too ashamed of me while Durza’s scar made me an in–”

And suddenly arms were around him, squeezing tight. The familiar scent of sweet tobacco smoke, warm canvas, leather and sandalwood washed through Eragon’s senses. It evoked memories of their travels, of the nights spent at the campfire learning magic and swordplay. 

But even deeper still, lost in the reaches of his oldest memories, the feeling of Brom’s arms around him recalled the days spent in the storyteller’s tiny home while Garrow and Marian worked the fields. His patience with Eragon’s neverending questions. How, without him knowing it, Brom made sure his son was fed, sparked his interest in the world around him, did his best to guide him on difficult choices. How the old man always made sure his door was open to him, for advice, stories, or simply someone to sit with in troubled times.

He realized, then, that Brom’s was shaking as he tightened his grip on his son. Hot tears splashed on the shoulders of his armor, beading up on the aramid polymer. 

“Stars above, I’ve never been ashamed of you.” Brom shuddered in a gasp, then let words pent up for years pour out of him. “You’ve always been my son, Eragon. I was so afraid that...that I would lose you too. I don’t know a thing about being a father, and after all that I’ve done and all I lost I just...I couldn’t. I couldn’t let that touch you. 

“I wanted more than anything to tell you. I was just too damn scared. I’m so sorry. There’s nothing I can do to make up for the past, but–”

Brom froze. 

Eragon settled his arms around his father, and hugged him back. 

He could feel his own throat tightening as he spoke, voice free from the conflict that it was filled with before. “You dummy.” Eragon felt Brom break out into fresh tears of relief as he added, “You realize you’re everything I wanted in a dad, right?”

#modern inheritance #modern inheritance cycle #inheritance cycle #eragon #modern inheritance story #brom #mic ask #mic asks #mic fills #mic story #brom is a softie we all know it #and yes he doesn't believe in his uber dad skillz #eragon bromsson

[mo-nighean-rouge]

Gone - V

Jamie Fraser prepares to send Claire and Faith through the stones. A last-minute interference puts them all at stake.

A/N: Huge thanks to @ianmuyrray for dedicating a lot of time and patience to help me clean this up, as well as @lady-o-ren for always saying something kind.

There’s a lot going on in the world right now. Take care and look out for ways that you can help -- including but not limited to:

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Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | AO3

Previously:

Murtagh was being pulled down from Donas by two Redcoats. As they set his feet on the ground, he met Claire’s eye, his own full of guilt and shame.

She slid down from her own horse and sidled up to Jamie’s back as he tried to make himself impossibly bigger to hide her, lowering Faith to her arms.

Over his shoulder, she studied the English officers in the dim light. There was something oddly familiar about one of them.

April 17, 1746 | Scottish Countryside

“Please.” Jamie’s voice rang clear in the still morning. “Leave him be.”

Claire’s eyes flooded as she watched him march toward the scene in surrender. She pressed her forehead into Faith’s mangled curls to hide her tears.

“I’ll wager ye know who I am,” Jamie said decidedly. “Take me, and let my companions go free. I’ll no’ fight.”

The silence was deafening as each party studied the other.

“James Fraser,” the ranking officer bellowed from his mount. “Notorious Jacobite.”

One of the younger men holding Murtagh in a vice grip paled at the obvious confirmation.

“Then this could only be the Stuart Witch in your company, Mr. Fraser?” The officer continued, breaking into a dark chuckle. “It seems we’d be foolish to let any of you get too far today.”

“No!” Jamie shouted, but it was too late. He thrashed violently even as three men surrounded him. All Claire could see was the sun shining against his brilliant red hair as the men dragged him away.

The remaining soldiers approached Claire and Fergus, gripping them indelicately as they led them on a solemn march toward the camp just visible through the clearing. Even though no one tried to remove her, Claire tightened her grip around Faith’s middle until the little girl began to squirm and whimper.

Each unfriendly face they passed jeered at them, recognition of the long-awaited captives flashing in their eyes.

They were all forced into a semi-circle together, surrounded by their captors.

Claire lowered herself to the ground, hit with another bout of nausea. Little wonder, as they’d had nothing to eat since supper the night before.

“Mama?” Faith whined softly, the impatient tones of a temper tantrum in her voice.

Jamie dropped to his knees beside them, using dirty palms to check each of them over for injury. “I’m sorry. Sae sorry Claire. So verra sorry,” he whispered, shaking.

Claire palmed his cheek in return. There was nothing he could have done. They had chosen their path, knowing the consequences it might bring.

She leaned into him and together they shielded Faith, sure these were their last moments but uncertain what they might bring. 

Claire barely registered the weary young man from before as he slowly backed away from his post and then dashed toward the largest tent at the edge of camp.

The commanding officer approached their huddle. “Captain Jacobs, at your service,” he sneered. “As long-sought after criminals in a losing battle, we’re certain you have plenty of information to share with us. Who knows, in the end your cooperation just may give us leave to be more lenient.”

Claire felt Jamie tense, her own breathing growing shallower. All they’d lost already, and their lives still on the line.

“Now,” Jacobs began. “I’d like to question each of you individually, starting with…” his cold eyes narrowed on Claire.

A throat cleared behind him, and the captain straightened. “Colonel.”

The colonel inclined his head as his inferior officer bowed.

“If you’re quite done, Captain… James and Mistress Fraser, I presume?” he asked them formally. He turned. “And Murtagh Fitzgibbons Fraser. And…” he tilted his head at the sight of Fergus. “Hello, young man. If you’d all accompany me to my quarters, it seems we have much to discuss.”

Jamie gave a slight nod. His face was the mask Claire knew would cover his thoughts, but he quickly rose, pulling Faith and her up with him.

As they walked, Faith dove toward Jamie and he caught her easily. Her eyes slipped closed at last, tucked against her da’s chest. It was likely for the best, as Claire herself hardly wanted to see what happened next.

________________________________________

 As they ducked under the entryway of the large tent, the colonel motioned them toward a long table. 

They’d need to keep their story straight. Balancing Faith’s slumbering form in one hand, Jamie ruffled Fergus's hair with the other, imploring him to keep quiet with a stern glance. Then Jamie reached for Claire, who accepted his touch, gripping his thigh firmly with her free hand.

After ensuring the tent flap was secure behind him, the colonel sat opposite them at the table. “I believe I’ve been remiss in introducing myself.” He straightened in the high-backed chair. “Colonel Harold Grey, Duke of Pardloe.”

Jamie frowned at the surname. Why did he know the name Grey?

“I’m told you’re all in acquaintance with my younger brother,” Grey continued. The young soldier from earlier stepped around a fold in the tent, flushed.

“Mr. and Mrs. Fraser, meet John William Grey.”

Surprised and a bit uneasy, Jamie and Claire glanced at each other before fully acknowledging the young man.

“Mr. Grey, pleasure to make your acquaintance again.”

“Mr. Fraser, Mistress Fraser, I trust you are both in good health.”

“Aye lad, at least my wife tells me so.” Jamie stroked Claire’s palm with his thumb.

John Grey nodded, smirking. “I suppose I should have guessed as much that night at Carryarrick, Sir.”

“As my brother reminds me,” Colonel Grey began, rubbing his temples. “He swore to you an oath of honor in exchange for his life.” He paused, looking from one Fraser to another. “It seems to fall on me to fulfill that promise today.”

“Just what will that mean, Colonel?” Jamie asked, his voice dropping to hide his nerves.

“I wonder if you’re familiar, Mr. Fraser, with Captain of Dragoons, Jonathan Randall?”

Claire’s nails dug into Jamie’s thigh as he shifted in his chair. “We’ve heard a bit in passing, aye. Most of it isna good.”

“Is he as nasty a man as they say?” Claire asked, trying to hide her emotions.

The colonel rose and fetched a decanter, pouring himself a drink before offering one to his guests. Jamie and Murtagh accepted, while Claire refused. Jamie knew she’d have a hard time stomaching ale on an empty belly.

“I’m afraid that everything you’ve heard, Mistress Fraser, pales in comparison to the truth. Allegations of abuse have followed him for years. But he always manages to shake them off before the consequences reach him.”

“That’s a shame.” Jamie swirled the drink in his mug. “But how does it relate to myself and my family?”

“We received word just this morning that Captain Randall met his end before the battle yesterday.”

Claire inhaled sharply.

Seemingly oblivious to their reactions, the colonel continued, pacing back and forth. “There was an outbreak of influenza in the camp. Terrible conditions, as you might imagine.”

Jamie shrugged, lifting one shoulder in response.

“As it turns out, he left behind a young widow with no other family to speak of. Mrs. Randall will be on her own to establish her inherited estate in Paris. She is also expecting his child.”

“I can’t imagine,” Claire whispered, rubbing her own belly underneath the table and trying not to shudder at the casual use of her friend’s married name.

“So, to conclude, I’m offering you both parole to her property in France. If you accept, you’ll leave on the next ship.”

“Mmmph.” Jamie nodded slowly, considering.

“Otherwise, I’m afraid there aren’t many options left in Scotland than the noose. For any of you.”

Jamie leaned forward, careful not to jostle Faith. “And what about my godfather, Murtagh?” he asked, his voice low.

The colonel turned his attention to the man in question. “I suppose any additional service would be to Mrs. Randall’s benefit.”

“And the children?” Claire asked. She rubbed Faith’s back.

Fergus perked up at this, looking between Claire and the colonel.

Grey cleared his throat. “As long as Mrs. Randall is willing to accommodate them, I see no issue in sending them along with you.”

“Ye should know,” Jamie warned. “I signed my estate away to my nephew. There will be no need to harass its residents.”

The colonel fixed his gaze on Jamie. “I have no desire to disturb properties that no longer belong to you, Mr. Fraser.”

Jamie and Claire exhaled together. “You have our gratitude, Colonel.”

Grey nodded. “To tell you the truth, I’ve watched many men fall over the past months. If only a few…” He cleared his throat again. “You’ll be detained here until our ship leaves in three days’ time, but you may move about the grounds as you wish. We will post any letters you wish to write before you leave. They will, of course, be read by myself first.”

________________________________________

 Claire knelt by the stream with Faith in her arms, the remnant of a gooey bar of soap clenched in her palm.

“Time to get cleaned up, lovey.” She trailed a wet finger down Faith’s cheek.

Faith giggled, dropping her chin to her chest to get away. When her mother paused, she looked into Claire’s eyes and placed a hand on her cheek. “S’okay, Mama?”

Claire paused and gathered her baby tighter to her. “Yes, my love. Things are looking up for us.” She pulled back to meet her eye. “But you are safe no matter what, do you understand?”

Faith nodded, turning around and leaning back as Claire lathered her hair with soap.

“Stay close, but out of the water,” Claire reminded her gently as she started her own ablutions. She needn’t have worried though, as a quick glance over her shoulder assured her that Jamie was standing guard at the tree line.

She grimaced as she felt water hit her back. She turned around in time to see Faith standing by the shallow of the creek, splashing. She shook her head and chuckled, sweeping Faith up and spinning her around, her little girl giggling madly.

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

Claire stripped down to her shift as night finally fell over the camp. Fergus was tucked into a separate tent with Murtagh. The dour old man had scoffed at their accommodations, but Claire caught the grin he tried to hide as Jamie pulled the blanket snug over Fergus’s shoulders.

She checked on Faith one more time, snoozing soundly on her pallet at the other end of the tent. Smoothing out her bedroll, she dropped down next to Jamie, who had left on only his shirt. Even as she curled into him, he continued staring a hole through the wall of their tent.

“Ready to get some rest, soldier?” she asked, smoothing her hand over his freshly shaved cheek.

Jamie caught her hand in his, and placed a kiss on her palm, but said nothing.

Claire sighed. This was no good. “You know I’m feeling different than last time. You don’t suppose it could be twins?” She caressed her belly.

He jerked around to face her, then rolled his eyes when he caught her smug grin. “Och. So ye’re a wee jokester tonight, eh?”

“What is it?” she asked, stroking the hand she had healed for him with delicate fingers.

“I’m sorry, Claire,” he said softly.

She tilted her head. “Whatever for? Things looked dodgy there for a moment, but we’ve a way out now.”

One side of Jamie’s mouth ticked upward. “Aye, and I’m grateful for that, but once again it seems that being here has put ye in danger.”

Claire shifted to hold his face in her hands. “We’ll be fine,” she whispered. “There’s nothing we can’t do, together.”

Jamie squeezed his eyes shut. “I just canna help thinkin’ it was my fault.”

She hesitated before nodding, slowly, with an air of finality. “You’re right.”

He went still for a moment, her sarcasm taking a second to fully settle on him. 

Claire shifted to drag their bodies fully together, nestling against his neck. His arm wrapped around her shoulder.

“You nearly gave up everything to make sure the children and I were safe.” She bit his earlobe. “When we get a chance to be alone,” she purred, pulling his mouth close to hers by the collar of his shirt. “You’ll find out whether I’m more inclined to punish or reward you for it.”

Jamie smiled at her and gripped her bottom. “I’ll hold ye to that.” He met her with a kiss, rubbing circles into her lower back. “I do love ye, Sassenach.”

“Mmm, you’ve mentioned that a time or two.”

He rolled to his back, folding her into his side with her palm over his heartbeat.

Claire could feel the heady tug of her exhaustion, and she was ready for sleep. But Jamie’s fingers tapping on her hip wouldn’t cease.

“Jamie?” 

“Ach, sorry.” He stilled his hand into a grip instead.

“What’s on your mind??” Claire wondered.

Jamie looked at her in surprise. “Sassenach,we’re surrounded by men that have likely no’ seen a woman in months. I willna give them a chance at ye.”

“We’re 15 paces from Colonel Grey’s tent. I don’t think anyone is bold enough to try anything.”

“Mmmph. That Captain Jacobs. Dinna like the way he was looking at ye.”

Claire sighed, thumping her head against his shoulder. “Even in sleep, you’ll know if he shows up.” She scratched the back of his head, knowing his eyes would droop as she did.

His body relaxed. “Will ye wake me if anything’s amiss?”

“Of course. And I can defend myself, you know.”

“Aye.” He smirked. “But ye shouldna have to.” He pressed a kiss to her temple before letting his eyes drift shut at last.

________________________________________

 Jamie’s family patiently stood to the side as Colonel Grey conferred with the harbormaster -- almost patiently.

Faith wriggled in Jamie’s arms as she rubbed her eyes and adjusted her position against his shoulder again. Fergus paced back and forth under Murtagh’s nose, causing the older man to mutter under his breath.

And Jamie himself twitched in the breeches provided to him by Redcoats. Colonel Grey insisted that tartan was outlawed and didn’t want his prisoner wearing a kilt in front of his colleagues. Jamie complied, albeit reluctantly. It wasn’t just the loss of his kilt that bothered him, nor Claire’s tartan shawl that he’d spread her out over more times than he could count. It was their last day in Scotland for an indeterminable amount of time. He couldn’t say when the next time he’d see Lallybroch or even a patch of heather would be.

But then Claire tightened her grip on his elbow, leaning her head against his shoulder. Regardless of what he was going to lose, he’d managed to keep his wife. His family. Everything else could bide.

Jamie came to attention as Grey turned back toward them. He didn’t like the look on the man’s face.

“Colonel?” 

Grey’s face was drawn. “It seems that demand for passage is quite high. Only official prisoners are allowed transport.” He met Jamie’s eye. “Now, your… Fergus… I can assign parole status, but your daughter…”

Jamie felt himself begin to quake. Claire went white beside him.

“I’d be more than obliged to have some of my men deliver her to your family estate while I accompany you to France…”

“Ye said you would leave Lallybroch alone,” Jamie bit out.

“It would remain safe, Mr. Fraser, it would be a simple business matter— ”

“We go as one, or not at all. I canna…”  His eyes fell to Claire’s silver ring, remembering all it represented. To leave part of his heart in another country for years… The carpet bag in Claire’s hand caught his eye.

The piece was clean, if threadbare, also provided by Grey. Perhaps it was fortunate after all that their belongings had barely covered the bottom.

“I’ve an idea, if ye’d be agreeable, Colonel.”

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

The bones of Jamie’s hand ground into Claire’s as they crossed the dock toward the awaiting ship. His other arm held the carpet bag against his hip.

“Halt,” barked the harbormaster . “We have orders from the Crown to check your cargo. They suspect you lot may try to smuggle contraband to whatever miserable place you’re headed.”

Grey nodded as the dockhands moved to pop his trunk open, but cleared his throat as they reached for the bag Jamie carried. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

The harbormaster, a fellow Redcoat, looked at him suspiciously. “And why would you say that?”

Grey leaned toward the man sternly. “I’ve checked their belongings already. I don’t imagine the discipline that would follow second guessing me is worth peering inside Mistress Fraser’s medical kit. You can only imagine the ghastly methods that pass for medical treatment in the Highlands -- dead toads, mummified crickets, and something that strangely resembles a man’s toe…” He shuddered.

“You folks are free to board,” the harbormaster blanched.

Murtagh and Fergus carried little cargo, and nothing the dockhands were willing to risk investigating.

They hastened onto the ship and locked themselves away in their respective cabins, while Grey went to introduce himself to the ship’s captain and explain their unusual situation.

Jamie watched the carpetbag wiggle as Claire undid its fastenings, followed by the appearance of a curly head.

Before Faith could react, Jamie plucked her from it and pulled her to him, embracing her so hard she squawked.

“Wonderful, Lovey.” Claire crushed herself into their embrace.

“Da is sae proud of ye, a nighean,” Jamie whispered into her ruffled curls. “I ken ye dinna understand now, but ye will someday.”

Faith raised her finger to her lips. “Shhh!”

“Yes, you were very brave.” Claire smiled. “But you don’t have to be anymore.”

________________________________________

 Claire smoothed the blanket over Faith’s slumbering form, then stood up from the bottom bunk and closed the door softly behind her. She knocked on Murtagh’s door and asked him to listen for Faith.

She climbed to the deck of the ship, spotting her husband leaning over the railing in the darkness. She wrapped her arms around him from behind.

“You’re not thinking of abandoning ship are you? All this effort would have been quite a waste.”

Jamie turned in her arms and wrapped her in his own. “Nae. ‘Tis just such a beautiful a night.”

“Hmm. Any seasickness yet?” Claire turned in his embrace, her back to his chest.

“Not yet. I think my heid’s working too hard to catch up with all that’s happened.” He rested his chin on her shoulder. “And all I have to be grateful for. But what about ye?” He rubbed his hand in a circle over her belly.

“Nothing to report yet.” She shook her head. “But I have a feeling it might return with a vengeance in the morning.”

“I wish there was something I could do to help ye with it,” he murmured into her hair.

“Just be with me,” she sighed.

They looked out over the moon-lit water together, swaying gently.

“Did you ever think we’d get here?” Claire whispered. “When we took that first ship ride?”

Jamie exhaled. “No’ at all. I could scarcely imagine putting the parts of me back together to make a whole man. But ye did that.” He turned her to face him, lifting her chin to meet his eye. “Now the Scotland I knew is gone, but me and mine and hale are provided for.” He placed a hand on her bottom. “And my bonnie wife has already given me two and a half bairns to cherish.”

Claire laughed as her lips met his. Not even a week ago, she’d expected to find herself pregnant and alone with a toddler, preparing to face a man she’d let go of first physically, then emotionally.

Instead, they’d fought for each other, and their family. Though they would part one day, it wouldn’t be today. Nor any day soon, if they had anything to say about it.

epilogue to follow

#Jamie Fraser #Claire Beauchamp #Faith Fraser #Murtagh Fitzgibbons Fraser #Fergus Fraser #Gone #Canon Divergence au #Outlander #Outlander fanfic #my fic

[mymelodyheart]

Highland Destiny Chapter 13 ~Have Faith~

Jamie was driving his Land Rover like a madman, cussing and cursing as he swerved and navigated the wet roads to the Northern Royal Infirmary. Despite the cold spring temperature, he could feel rivulets of sweat on the sides of his temple. He felt queasy, and his heart was racing like a freight train, as a feeling of helplessness intensified. Jamie had never been afraid of anything in his whole life, but the picture of Tom Christie pouring drug into Claire's drink playing over and over in his mind, had his stomach in knots. Tears burning at the back of his eyes threatened to spill as he remembered her last words. "I love you, Jamie,"  she had said.   Oh God, I love this woman, please don't let this be my punishment for my sins. Please protect her and our unborn child.

After what felt like an eternity searching for a parking space, Jamie finally made it to the hospital's lobby, huffing and puffing after running through a maze of cars. Unsure where to go to next, he viewed the scene before him, a picture of normality as people carried on with their business, bustling, with places to go and things to do.

"Jamie!" A woman's voice shouted after him.

He whirled around and was relieved to see Geillis, her long, red-gold hair, wild and loose, and her face pasty white. She was followed by Murtagh, his god-father and three other lads from the Fire Brigade, all dressed in their uniform and carrying their tactical bags.

"Any news on Claire? Is she still in the hospital? How come there are no police here? Was she taken out of the building?" Jamie blurted rapid-fire questions without taking a breath, his eyes darting back and forth to their faces, searching for answers.

"Hello to ye too, god-son!" Murtagh spoke, a figure of equanimity, as he took his elbow and led him away from the group. Once they were a fair distance, he turned to Jamie, his face deadpan and inscrutable. "Now listen to me, ye wee daftie. Ye will stay here like a good lad, and ye will do as yer told. I dinna want to hear ye interfering with the cops or punching anyone on the face. Everything is under control, ye hear me? Beauchamp is in the building. Leave this to the pros."

Jamie grabbed Murtagh's arm in a vice-like grip. "Fuck that! I will no' have ye talking to me like I'm some wee lad...ye dinna ken what Christie is capable of. This is between him and me..." he hissed, in a dangerous undertone.

Murtagh shoved his hand away and moved closer to Jamie, "Wheesht, ye eejit! I ken fine what Christie is like. Ye shoulda clobbered the lad years ago and that woulda been the end of it. Ever since the Beauchamp lassie arrived, ye've no' been acting yersel' an' ye've been in all sorts of trouble. So stay away. That's a warning. Ye're never too big to get a cuff on the ear from me, " the older man retorted, glaring up at him, intent on carrying out his threat. Not waiting for a further response, Murtagh turned to his men. "C'mon lads, we have work to do."

"Wait! I can go to the station and change. I work with the fire department...in case ye dinna remember..." Jamie shouted after them as they walked away, in a last attempt to convince his god-father.

Without turning around, Murtagh shouted back, "NO! Ye'll stay put! Ye're a fucking hazard at the moment. As yer commanding officer, that is an order!"

"Prick!" 

"I heard that..."

"Ye were supposed to!"

Fist clenched, Jamie roared in frustration, causing the people in the lobby to turn around in surprise. Geillis, noticing the awkwardness of the situation, quickly jumped in, addressing the on-lookers, "Och, nothing to see here," she announced, waving her hands in the air. "He jist hud his haemorrhoids treated. Th' bigger th' laddie, th' bigger th' piles. Soo verra painful indeed...it makes even the biggest laddie scream."

The people and nurses nodded in understanding before turning away. Jamie glowered angrily down at her as he took her aside by the elbow. "Ye think this is some joke, Geillis. For fuck sake, Claire is in danger, and ye make some crack like that," he snapped, trying to keep his voice down.

"Whit? Listen to yersel'... if yoo're gonnae act like a fanny, expect tae be treated like one," she fumed, yanking her arms away.

Letting out a huge sigh, he conceded. "Alright, alright. Hear me out. I need to get to Claire. Do ye have any idea where she is or have ye heard where Tom took her? Please, lass. I can't stand here and do nothing," he pleaded.

"Aye, ah ken where Christie took 'er. Joe said they're in an abandoned south wing in th' basement. That section is awaitin' renovation until th' permit comes through, so that area is isolated. There are civilian police doon there now an' some of th' male staff an' security," she explained rapidly. "And Jamie...Joe broke into Tom's locker an' foond these." Geillis took a packet from the pocket of her coat and handed it to Jamie.

He opened it and found several candid photos of Claire and a pair of her knickers, obviously stolen when Tom came to visit at the cottage while he was away in France. "Oh, Christ! That sick bastard...I'm going to kill him..." he seethed under his breath, shoving the packet into his own pocket. "I'm going to the station to get my gear..." He was just about to turn around and head for the exit when Geillis stopped him.

"No wait, I have a better idea. I know a nurse who will lend ye a lab coat. She sorta fancies ye... just give her one of those stares ye give Claire an' say something nice aboot her hair," she suggested, her cheeks dimpling as her eyes glinted with mischief.

"Aye, alright...let's go. Lead the way."

..........

 Claire dreamt of Frank. He was sitting on the edge of the desk in his study, holding an open book. As she walked in through the double doors, he looked up, smiling. "Hello, darling! What on earth are you doing here?"

"Hi, Frank! I thought you'd be happy to see me."

Frank closed his book and strode towards her with open arms. "Oh Claire, of course, I'm happy to see you," he responded, holding her by the shoulders. "But sweetheart, you aren't supposed to be here. You need to go back. Trust me, all will be well." He took both her hands in his and raised them to his lips.

"Go back to where Frank?"

"You need to go back where you came from," he answered cheerfully, as he turned her around and led her back through the door.

"But..."

"You need to have Faith...," were his last words.

 Claire opened her eyes and blinked at the harsh fluorescent lighting right above her, her body shivering from the cold surface she's lying on. As she raised her head slowly, Claire realised she was laid on a metal lab table, and from somewhere at the back of the room, she could hear someone whistling and shuffling about. For diagnostic purposes, she made some small movements with her limbs and head and decided that all her faculties and bodily functions were sound. 

Right, Frank, you said I need to have faith. Faith in what though?  Suddenly she sensed an unfamiliar stirring in her belly, and her hand instinctively touched it. Although unable to comprehend, she felt in the centre of her guts that something was not right. Trying to piece her memory back together was futile. It was as if the connecting thread to the pictures in her recollection had become undone. All she knew was that she wasn't meant to be there.

She heard footsteps coming nearer, and without any second thoughts, she gingerly slipped off the table, her heart thumping wildly. Slightly unsteady on her feet and her eyes somewhat blurry, Claire looked around the worktop and grabbed the first instrument she could find - a bone marrow biopsy needle which fitted perfectly in her hand. Before she could make her next move, calloused fingers gripped her elbow and pulled her up to her feet, bringing her face to face with Tom Christie. 

"Looking for something, hen?"  Yeah, where's the fucking exit!

"T-Tom, what are we doing here? And what happened to your face?" Judging from the look of his eyes, Claire sensed he was under the influence of narcotics. The once warm brown eyes she knew was erratic and shifty, and he smelled badly of stale sweat. His left side of the face, severely swollen and the colour of purplish-blue, twitched constantly.

"Och Claire, sweet Claire," he muttered as he raised one hand to caress a cheek. The other hand holding her elbow, slipped behind her back, pressing her close to him. "I've waited for so long to do this. Now we're alone..." He leaned down for a kiss.

Seeing his puffed lips descending upon her, Claire panicked, as her knee automatically jerked upward, hitting him on his most sensitive part. Taking advantage of his pained state, she quickly scrambled to the other side of the work table and yelled at him, "Wot the fuck is wrong with you, Tom? Why are you doing this? And where's everybody?" Her eyes scoured the room, looking for a quick get-away.  Think Beauchamp, think!

Recovering from the pain on his groin, Tom straightened up, his slobbery inflated lips sneering wickedly. "Big mistake, Claire...ye shouldna done that..." He cautiously made his way around the lab table to her, his hand taking out a syringe needle from his pocket. "Now be a good lass, and get back on that table. I promise I will not hurt ye if ye do as ye're told."

"Wot? I will do no such thing... you fucking demented bastard!" she screamed at him as she edged further away, her one hand tightening its grip on her weapon, it's handle likened to an old fashion corkscrew. With adrenaline pumping through her veins, the fog in her head lifted, and her fear replaced by anger. She raised her weaponry, brandishing it in the air. "I swear to God, Tom, if you don't let me go, I'll skewer your balls with this and make a haggis out of it and feed it to the dogs."

Tom laughed an evil laugh. "Do ye know how beautiful you look when you're mad even such a salacious slut that ye are? Tell me, Claire, what is it about Fraser that ye like so much ye prefer him over me? Do ye think he'd mind if I took what's his? He has taken away so much from me over the years, so, I'm quite sure he wouldna mind if I sample a bit of ye," he jeered as he followed her around the lab table.

Claire backed away slowly, focusing on his next move, ready to run if he made any sudden action. She thought she heard movement outside the corridor but dismissed it when Tom didn't react. "You're one sick bastard Tom...and here I thought you were my friend. You really need help.." Claire heard shuffling again...

He abruptly pounced on her, making her yelp. Claire caught unaware, he lifted her up, kicking and squirming. Tom was about to reach out for the syringe when something sharp pierced his shoulder blade, making him shriek in agony and releasing his hold. Reaching back, he pulled out the sharp object Claire wounded him with and threw the offensive object away. But before she could flee, Tom grabbed a handful of her locks and swung her to the side, making her head bounced off the corner of the table. "Ye fuckin' whore...ye'll pay for this!" he growled, as he shrugged off his lab coat and wiped his bloodied hand on his pants.

She slid to the floor as she saw stars and flying birds behind her eyelids. Feeling disoriented, Claire searched and groped for anything to defend herself with. She was just inches away from Tom's syringe when his hands pulled her up by the waist, picked her up like a rag doll and slammed her on the lab table. She kicked and screamed as she felt her hospital gown ripped away, but he was stronger and bigger. "GET OFF ME, YOU FUCKING BASTARD!" 

Suddenly there was a loud crash as the door gave way to the battering ram, and several bodies rushed into the room, screaming and shouting. 

"CHRISTIE!" A bewildered Tom turned around and loosened his hold on Claire as he slowly backed away, his eyes huge as saucers, as a very large, menacing red-head Scot advanced towards him, death sentence written all over his face. Tom swallowed and dropped the syringe, frozen on the spot.

Before he could get his hands on Tom, Murtagh and four of his men lunged at Jamie, holding and twisting his arms, as he fought to get-away. Like a possessed man, he continued to thrash and flail as the officers quickly whisked Tom Christie away before the situation could get out of control. They were warned well in advance what Jamie could do if he got within an inch of Tom. "CHRISTIE, YE HEAR ME, YE'LL PAY FOR THIS!" Jamie shouted after him as he was led out of the lab.

At last, coming to his senses, he roughly shrugged off the men holding him and searched the room. "Sassenach!" An officer was already wrapping Claire in a blanket when he saw her, sat-up on a metal table, trembling. Rushing to her side, Jamie quickly carried her away to the corner of the lab, as police searched the room for pieces of evidence. Finding a chair, Jamie settled Claire on his lap, cradling and hugging her tight. "Oh thank God, ye're safe," he muttered over and over, his face buried in her neck, both of them shaking from their ordeal. 

Claire wrapped her arms around his neck and ran her hands through his hair. "It's alright...we're okay, Jamie, shh," she whispered, pulling him closer. "He's gone..."

After a while of holding each other close, he pulled away to take a better look at her. "Are ye hurt anywhere, Sassenach?" he asked tenderly, his hands patting her arms and thighs, just to make sure she's whole.

Smiling and feeling more like herself, she answered, "You know what, I'm hungry. I really fancy a pudding."

He laughed out loud, pulling her back close to his embrace and hugging her tight.

..........

Jamie waited outside Claire's room as Joe, and two other doctors gave her a thorough test while she ate three servings of chocolate pudding. He was so exhausted, he fell asleep slumped on the chair.

"Hey buddy, wake up..."

Jamie opened his eyes, immediately alert. "How is she? The baby? Does she know?"

Joe smiled and sat next to him. "Claire's doing great and asleep...well except for a small bump on her head, but nothing serious. You know, it's a sort of miracle that she's so alert and the effects of the drugs are gone from her system. As for the baby, it's too early to tell, but Claire is in great shape, so that's a good sign for the fetus. Her vitals are great...no signs of infection...blood pressure normal and she just ate three servings of chocolate jello. If you want, and when she wakes up, you can take her home. We haven't told her yet about the pregnancy...I thought you should be the one to tell her."

Jamie let out a sigh of relief. "I'm just happy she's alive. And whatever happens with the baby, we'll go through it together..."

"Have you told her the whole story...you know about Tom and Laoghaire, what exactly happened?" Joe asked.

"Aye," Jamie replied, shaking his head. "She took everything in stride. I don't think it has sunk in yet."

"That's normal, Jamie. It's probably a lot to take in after what happened with Tom. She is probably still in shock. What she needs is a holiday...even just for a few days."

"Aye, I was thinking about it...maybe as soon as we leave the hospital. I think I need a holiday too. The last few weeks have been crazy and surreal." Jamie stretched and yawned before continuing. "Right, I'll go and see her now. And thank ye for everything, Joe. I'll have her return yer keys to yer apartment. I don't think she'll be needing it anymore. I will be taking her home."

Joe laughed and slapped him on the back. "You do that, Jamie. I'm pretty sure she'll be happy returning back home to you."

.........

Claire woke up to a pair of sky blue eyes staring down at her. Jamie was lying on his side, his head propped on his elbows.

"Jamie..." She pulled him down for a lingering kiss.

He smiled as his thumb caressed the lines of her jaw. "Good morning Sassenach, ye slept well?"

"Morning? Jesus, I must have slept through. Did you stay here all night?" Claire stretched herself before turning to face him, her arms going around his waist.

"Aye, I couldn't take any chances. Inverness hasn't been kind to ye ever since ye arrived. Ye think ye ready to come home...to me? Joe said ye can leave anytime...ye're in perfectly good health."

"I would love that...I missed the cottage," she replied wistfully, lowering her eyes, her hand rubbing his back."And I missed you too, Jamie." 

He lifted her chin with his finger and smiled. "I missed ye too Sassenach. How do ye feel like, when we get home, we pack our bags and head to the Isle of Skye for a few days,? And after that, to Lallybroch?"

"But my work..."

"I spoke to Murtagh already, and he said he'd be happy to see ye back in two weeks." He beamed, pleased with himself. 

Claire laughed. "Well, I can hardly say no since you've already arranged everything. Won't it be too cold in Skye?"

He grinned, his face suddenly looking boyish. "Aye, Sassenach...verra cold but I'll be there to keep ye warm." Then his expression turned serious as he leaned to kiss her forehead, his ears turning pink. "Claire, how do ye feel about babies? I mean...have ye ever wanted one? I know ye said ye couldn't have one." 

Claire raised her eyebrows, surprised at the question. "It's funny you should ask that...I dreamed last night I was carrying a child. Maybe it's wishful thinking..."

"What if I told ye, ye are with child, Sassenach? Our baby..." Jamie whispered, his eyes glistening.

"Oh!" 

"Joe said it's early days yet, but there is a chance ye might lose the baby because of the amount of drug ye ingested. But Joe also said, that yer quick recovery, perfect health and positive results with your examination, could also mean there is a good chance of survival. Either way, we're in this together..."

"Do you want this baby, Jamie?" Claire asked, earnestly.

"I want ye and the baby Sassenach...and if anything happens to the child ye carry, we can try again," he whispered softly, his hand smoothing her hair.

Claire was silent for a moment, confusion crossing her face. "Jamie? What's this?" Baby-talk forgotten, she raised her right hand to show the amber ring, set on white gold, on her ring finger.

Jamie's face turned bright red. "Erm... ye were so sound asleep, and I thought...I thought I'd slipped it in your finger to see if it fits...it's my ma's ring...yer hand is so small ...and it's the colour of yer eyes...I thought, it would suit ye...and I wasna sure if it fits...and then I had trouble taking it off ye," he stammered, as he shifted position in bed, trying to sit up.

"Jamie, why?" she asked, her eyes widening and her face turning pink.

"Weel, what I'm trying to say is, Sassenach, now that ye're wearing the ring...and ye know I love ye..and..."

"Jamieeee..."

He cleared his throat and took Claire's hand in his, deep blue boring into her liquid gold. "What I'm trying to say is, will ye marry me, Sassenach?"

#melodyheart #highlanddestiny #Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser #outlanderfanfic

[inheritance-cycles]

Thorta Du Ilumëo

Trigger warnings for canon-typical graphic violence and torture.

Following the Siege of Dras-Leona, Murtagh and Thorn launch a successful attack against the Varden. During the fight, Eragon falls from Saphira’s back, and Thorn uses the momentary distraction to both wound Saphira and knock Arya unconscious. Murtagh, who originally planned to capture Nasuada, decides to take advantage of this rare opportunity, and during the chaos, Thorn and Murtagh manage to seize Eragon and spirit him away to Urû'baen. Canon non-compliant fic detailing Eragon’s capture, trials, and eventual rescue.

First chapter based heavily on Nasuada’s capture. 

Part 1 || AO3 (parts 2-6)

Eragon opens his eyes.

The first thing he notices is the pounding in his head; an almost percussive agony that brings him more fully to awareness. His thoughts, however, feel thick and slow, as if he were drunk with exhaustion. Turning his head makes the pain worse, so instead he stares with detached interest at the roof above him.

Tiles cover the dark, vaulted ceiling, and upon the tiles are painted angular patterns of red, blue, and gold: a complex matrix of lines that trap his gaze for a mindless while.

The soft crackle of a smoldering fire draws his attention, and at last he musters the will and energy to look away from the intricate designs. A simmering glow emanates from a source somewhere behind him, and he senses more than sees that the illumination is due to a brazier nearby. The glow is just strong enough to reveal the shape of the octagonal room, but not so bold as to dispel the shadows clinging to its corners.

Finally, he looks down, and notices the surface upon which he’s been restrained. It’s cold, smooth, and uncomfortably hard; the rough stone chafes irritably against his exposed hands and legs. A chill creeps into his bones, and he finds himself wishing for something warmer than the tattered tunic and loose trousers he had been wearing whilst drinking with Arya. Eyeing his lower half, he also realizes that he is weaponless, a fact that is unsurprising but disappointing all the same. Chances are, both his bow and Brisingr still lay on the grassy knoll near Dras-Leona where he fell.

But where am I now?  

With immense caution, he pushes his mind out- or tries to- but to his alarm, he only feels a soft, indistinct pressure surrounding him. It’s as if bales of wool are packed around his mind, and he finds that he can neither extend his consciousness outward, nor access the part of himself that houses his magic.

He’s unsure if he’s been drugged, but if this were done by magic, it was a magic that was completely unknown to him.

Eragon shudders, then tries to sit upright, but the padded manacles that he now sees encircle his limbs prevent him from moving more than a fraction of an inch in any direction. He furrows his brow and realizes that a thick leather belt holds his head firmly against the slab as well, preventing him from turning it more than a few degrees.

Even though he knows it’s futile, he strains against the bonds with all his strength, but they are too secure for even him to break. It’s this realization that causes him to truly panic.

Eragon allows himself a few moments of chest-heaving, muscle-trembling terror before he forces himself to calm, one carefully-controlled breath at a time. The only power he has in this situation is self-control, and he is not about to relinquish it willingly.

The pace of his breaths slow further. The regular, smooth flow through his throat and nostrils begins to crowd out all else. Then, once he’s reasonably certain he is not going to come undone, he allows his gaze to wander once more.

Turning his head what little it can, he glances out the window beside him, neck muscles straining with the effort. To his shock, he actually recognizes the landscape from a fairth he had studied while in Ellesmera.

He’s in Urû'baen.

His heart rate spikes once more, and he quickly loses what little hard-won composure he had gained.

Eragon is still working to calm his erratic breaths when he hears the footsteps in the hallway. His sensitive hearing picks them up easily: a group, some marching in rhythm, some not. The cacophony is so great that he’s unable to determine their exact number, nor their exact distance from him.

The second query is soon answered when the procession approaches, stopping directly outside the doorway to his chamber. There’s quiet murmuring, followed by two sets of clacking footsteps- the product of hard-soled riding boots, he guesses- then a single man enters the room.

The door closes with a hollow thud, and Eragon flinches.

Down the stairs the footsteps come, steady and deliberate. In his arms, the man carries a chair and places it somewhat near the brazier, his body only visible in Eragon’s periphery.

Silence reigns as he fills the copper brazier with charcoal, but then he moves it closer to the slab, closer to Eragon, and the motion produces a painful screech that drives into his ears like nails. Being well-restrained, all Eragon can do is cringe inwardly and watch, transfixed. The man takes flint and steel from the pouch on his belt and lights a nest of shredded tinder in the center of the brazier. The sparks smolder and spread, and the tinder glows like a ball of red-hot wires. Then, he bends, blowing on the incipient fire, and the sparks spring into lambent flames.

The man is not large: not fat, but broad-shouldered. A long black cape hangs draped around his well-built frame. Light from the coals cast his form in shadow, his features too dark to make out, even with Eragon’s advanced senses. Still, the shadows do nothing to obscure the outline of the sharp, pointed crown resting upon his brow, and they similarly fail to conceal the three long irons now resting in the heating coals.

Finally, the man drops into the chair with a near-silent exhale.  

One by one, he tugs on the fingers of his gauntlets, then pulls off his gloves. Tossing them carelessly aside, they land with a soft thump of hide on stone. Underneath the gloves, Eragon notices, the man’s hands are the color of tarnished bronze.

Then, the man speaks. His voice is low, rich and commanding, and Eragon shivers again. His skin prickles uncomfortably and he finds himself thinking of Elva, of all people, and her authority over people’s minds. He has no doubt that he is now in the presence of the king.

“Welcome to Urû’baen, Eragon, son of Morzan,” Galbatorix intones. “Welcome to this, my home, ‘neath these ancient piled rocks. Long has it been since a guest as distinguished as yourself has graced us with their presence. My energies have been occupied elsewhere, but I assure you, from now on, I shall not neglect my duties as host.”

The fire crackles menacingly as if to underscore the hard steel underlying the king’s tone, his words. Galbatorix leans forward, and Eragon can feel the weight of his gaze: boring into him, assessing, scrutinizing.

“You are younger than I expected. I knew you had recently come of age, but still, you are no more than a child.” He pauses for a moment, as if in thought. “Most seem as children to me these days. Foolhardy children who know not what is best for them- children who need the guidance of those who are older and wiser.”

Eragon sets his chin, not wanting to show fear or vulnerability in front of the king.

“Such as yourself?” He asks in a scornful tone.

Galbatorix chuckles. “Would you rather the elves ruled over us? I am the only one of our race who can hold them at bay. By their reckoning, even our oldest graybeards would be considered untested youths, unfit for the responsibilities of adulthood.”

“And by their reckoning, so would you.” With each word, his fear melts away, replaced by pure defiance and bubbling fury.

The amusement in the king’s eyes angers Eragon, but he stays otherwise silent.

“Ah, but I contain more than my share of years. The memories of hundreds are mine, whispering their wisdom in my ears,” replies Galbatorix, smirking conspiratorially. “You especially should understand of what I speak.”

Eragon purses his lips and refuses to confirm what they both know is true.

Galbatorix allows the silence to settle for a moment, then gestures at the room with his gauntlets, continuing unperturbed. “This is a place for truths to be told… and heard. I will tolerate no lies within these walls, not even the simplest of falsehoods.”

The legs of the chair scrape over the floor, and Galbatorix’s breath suddenly wafts, warm against his ear. “I know this will be painful for you, Eragon Shadeslayer, painful beyond belief. You will have to unmake yourself before pride will allow you to submit. In all the world, nothing is harder than changing one’s own self. I understand this, for I have reshaped myself on more than one occasion. However, I will be here to hold your hand and help you through this transition. Although we do not have much time, you need not take this journey alone. And you may console yourself with the knowledge that I will never lie to you. Not within this room. Doubt me if you wish, but in time you will come to believe me. You may ask whatever you want, and I promise you, that I shall answer truthfully. As the king of these lands, I give you my sworn word.”

Eragon’s jaw clenches painfully, and from between clenched teeth, he spits, “I’ll never tell you what you want to know!”

A slow deep chuckle fills the room. “You misunderstand; You were not brought here because I seek information. There’s nothing you could say that I don’t already know. You have no secrets from me, none whatsoever; it is pointless to insist upon holding your tongue, for it will only cause you pain and suffering.”

“Why then?” he growls.

Galbatorix moves to better meet Eragon’s gaze with his own.

“Why did I have you brought here? Because, my son, you have gifts far deadlier than anything magic or man could create. You are here because you have proven yourself worthy of my attention. I wish to have you by my side. A new order is about to descend upon Alagaësia, and I would have you be part of it. Voluntarily, if I can.”

Eragon squints, not trusting the king’s words. “Are you not going to use your mind against me?”

He shakes his head. “I have other ways to break you, my son. I could easily seize control of your mind and force you to swear fealty to me, but instead, I would have you make this decision of your own free will, and while still in possession of your faculties. For now, I am satisfied to discover just how brave you really are, Eragon, son of the Forsworn.”

Eragon clenches his muscles to prevent the growing tremors in his arms and legs from becoming visible.

“The Varden are fast approaching, desperate to rescue their Rider, so I will have to do this efficiently, and in a much shorter time frame than I would prefer.” A wickedly devious smile stretches Galbatorix’ cheeks. “Take this, then, as a sign of my regard for you, Eragon, that I must inflict such suffering to assure victory.” His voice drops to a whisper as he leans in even closer. “I would not, however, wish to exchange places with you.”  

This is my final duty: resisting my interrogation. I will not break.

“Now, before we begin,” croons Galbatorix. “I’ll ask you one last time: will you submit?”

Eragon thinks of Saphira, and his resolve hardens. “Never.”

“So be it. Let us begin.”

#Inheritance cycle #IC #Eragon series #Inheritance trilogy #IC fic #fanfic #eragon fanfic #The cyclists #Eragon shadeslayer #Eragon Bromsson #arya drottningu #Arya #saphira #galbatorix

[lady-o-ren]

Sorcha

Previously

LAST TIME

"Is everything alright, Sorcha? You look pale as a fetch."

Murtagh with the barest of movements, shook his head in silent plea.

"I'm fine." Claire replied, tearing her eyes from the older man to Jamie's concerned face.

"Must have been the sun."

                                                        _____

Claire smiled awkwardly as all eyes were on her, searching for the lies she was sure were written plainly on her face.

"Indeed. Folk all over have been touched by it, keeling over like flies out in the fields. Dangerous it is to be out in it's full glare and on horseback no less." Ellen gave Jamie a look of disapproval that went unnoticed, as his eyes were fixed on Claire.

"Ye do look faint, Sorcha." Jamie brushed his knuckles to Claire's cheeks, a fevered tinge of pink from brow to nape that he found alarming.

"A lie down will do her well, aye lass?" Murtagh interjected, his tone leaving no room for disagreements as Claire felt the pull of submission to one as high as he.

"Yes, that's just the thing." Claire nodded, assuring the two redheads who seemed ready to throw her in a chilly loch.

"I'll put ye in Jamie's room." Murtagh insisted which Jamie began to protest wanting to take her himself, but Claire held up her hand in protest. He had come home for a reason, she reminded.

With a begrudging acceptance from Jamie, Claire excused herself and with a wary eye allowed Murtagh to guide the way.

_____

Claire was brought to a room that smelled of fresh, sharp pine and faintly of a cat who 'happened' upon an empty bed for his taking. There was a chest along the wall peppered with bits and bobs from youthful exploration. Colored pebbles and stones, chipped spiral shells of whitish pink and an oval speckled one of green crossed with yellow. Not to mention the balls of tangled string. Why he would need any of it was a mystery but she couldn't help but wonder what hid behind the drawers. Charms against malevolent spirits or oddities like a withered moles foot hidden amongst the shirts?

Books were in every corner - on the windowsill fading the leather with spines of loosened stitching, stacked on shelves threatening to fall just to be read and what looked to be one tucked under a pillow of a long bed in the corner. A favorite he hoped to dream of, perhaps?

Claire felt the awful need to touch every point in the room to share the secret that had been at Jamie's side all along. But the door closed behind her with a soft thud and the presence of another prevented her from unburdening the knowledge that stabbed sharply at her breast.

The man's face looked to have aged five times over since they were in the kitchen when Claire turned to him. His mouth was so thin a line his coarse bush of beard covered them whole, black brows so tightly knit they seemed unified in their worriment, and the familiar steady beat of fingers that she had the sudden urge to hold steady.

"A 'Bhrian?" Claire asked in a hush even though she knew the answer.

Without a word Bhrian silently nodded, the fingers at his side losing their rhythm.

Maybe it was the vulnerability he displayed or how changed his appearance was to her but Claire felt the tumble of words fall out of her mouth not caring that he was a God and she, but a speck in oblivion.

"How could you be so reckless to defy his law again? He was being lenient with you before but now…" Claire felt her throat restrict and dry thinking of the two in the other room, where Jamie was sharing an unknowing lie of his father's fate.

"Tis none of your concern, Rionnag bheag. You will do as I say and quiet yourself." Bhrian warned her all but losing his thick brogue. His eyes darted to the door and beyond to the people it did involve and shouldn't, couldn't know.

"None of my - " Claire glared at the command and what to her was a belittling endearment even as her chest pounded erratically at a being who could cease her living with a glance.

"Whenever your son's heart is gripped with sorrow he calls out to my own. To speak to me, pray to me. I would give Jamie all that I am to relieve him of any anguish. So yes, it is of my concern."

"And who do ye think his mother prays to?"

The glistening rays that streamed through the window faded  to a solemn dusk as Bhrian's voice cracked. "I will speak no more of this and neither will you to they. My time here is short as well as yours is now. We both must go to our lives as they were meant to be."

A 'Bhrian left her standing alone, heart lurching in a chaotic beat, with Adso scratching fervently at the door.

______

Jamie walked quietly to his room careful of creaky floorboards and the clank of the iron handle as he turned it. Inside the dim room he saw a candle was lit, the flame too small to cast out the shadows but enough to lend it's sparse light to the ruffle of Claire's soft hair and outline the sweep of curves that sat atop the quilts. Adso was smug in her lap, experiencing waves of affection fit for a braw cheetie such as himself.

"Did ye have a fine time nosing 'bout my room?" His eyes narrowed in accusation but the turn of his lips suggested otherwise. "Anything catch yer fancy?"

Claire couldnt help the tug at her lips and replied matching his features.

"Nothing much I didn't know already. You have a mind for worlds set elsewhere, though your taste in literature is something to be desired. As does your interest in rocks."

Jamie walked over to the chest, thumbing the objects that had caught his eye for their colors or how the smooth or jagged shapes felt in his hand.

"Weel, my heid is made out of solid stone like my brethren here." Claire agreed emphatically while the corners of Jamie's mouth twitched. "And elsewhere seemed to have more promise for salvation. I was right about that, aye?" This time his answer was the flush of Claire's cheeks that the shadows couldn't conceal.

Seeing her disarmed Jamie was ready to broach the subject of her well being but Claire queried about his mothers, her voice sounding booming in the quiet stillness. Jamie sat on the edge of the bed facing her, his hands stretched out on his knees.

Ellen, he began, with multiple swipes of his head when he told her of his true intent when he left the farm followed by wide-eyed awe of the kindle that had laid dormant inside his blood. Then came the pour of drink with the dispiriting answers of He, who despite all the years she had hoped to see again. She sat stoic with questions here and there that did nothing to diminish the blow she had received until it came to Claire.

"She finds ye to be most wondrous, Claire and would like to speak more to the lass who has been such a blessing to us Fraser's over supper."

Adso's ears perked at the mention of food and curled closer to Claire, who continued to stroke the silver silkiness behind the cats ear as he purred in encouragement and stretched for more.

"Beware, my wee glutton is trying to sweet ye out of yer helping." Jamie teased his cheetie along it's paw, the nails unsheathing and then quickly retracting as Claire ran her fingers along his spine that arched in response.

"Adso can have my share, I haven't much of an appetite." She couldn't bear with praises to pile on the bubbling guilt.

Jamie caressed her cheek while the pad of his thumb skimmed along her smooth skin. Claire assumed Jamie was merely feeling for a fever as her palm met his wrist and where his pulse was surprisingly fast as a long exhale escaped her lips.

"Why must ye lie?"

"I'm not lying." She stated adamantly, regretfully, as Jamie removed his hand to join her other in the warm fur that raised with blissful breathing. He waited a beat, choosing his approach before answering.

"You are." Jamie insisted as his mouth upturned at the corners even if the humor didn't wholly reach his eyes. "You eat without a second thought to breathing and verra near savaged my hand when ye had the buttered bannock sopped in honey at Moubrey's."  

Claire searched his face and found his sworn word from days before that he would not press her for more, even if it drove him to frustration. Taking the branch he extended she returned the smile, however small, as the memory left a sweetness inside her.

"You tried to steal from my plate, thief and suffered the consequences that I have yet to regret." Claire gave Jamie a faint pinch at the back of his hand and he shook it away from her in mock injury.

"It was thievery or starvation and I'll gladly risk a digit when it comes to my stomach. We have that in common." This time his smile was true and Jamie took one last shot of persistence.

"At least have some to tea to soothe ye, aye?" He gently offered." You may find it to yer liking as much as any ale or whiskey ye've downed. Or have all three and drink us under the table."

There was no escaping the inevitable without  further sending his nerves on edge and Claire relented with a sigh that sent Jamie to go cat-eyed in victory.

"Well, now you have enticed me. Lead the way, Jamie and take note my warning of idle hands."

With a parting scratch to Adso, Claire grabbed Jamie's hand where his long fingers entangled with hers.

______

Supper however was not to be.

An argument was boiling from the kitchen down to the corridor, nothing new to the walls of Lallybroch. Jamie raised a hand for Claire to stay while he went to try to diffuse whatever mess his godfather stepped in.

"Ye've been out all day and you won't sit with us for supper?" Ellen sounded baffled and Jamie could imagine her hands at her waist standing at full height that even to him could be intimidating.

"Is it her that's the cause?" Jamie paused at the doorway and to his dismay Claire had followed right behind at his side.

"Jamie it's nothing, come away from there please." She pulled at Jamie's forearm to no avail, the rising fervor of him under her hands startling her to dig her her nails deep enough to mark.

"I ken you have a distrust of anything ye can't eat but I dinna think ye an ill mannered - "

"Will ye let me gi' a word in woman, It's no'  -"

Jamie came in then, dislodging himself from Claire's iron grasp and would have his own fisted with his godfather's collar if it weren't for the hindrance of a table between them. "If Claire hadn't risked herself at my plea, our fields would be a wasteland still with nothing but weeds to sustain us and I would no' have what is burning my veins raw towards ye now." The burning manifested itself in the crackling hiss of the wooden surface to black under Jamie's palms.

"I will no' have you shaming us, Goitsdh."

"Shaming?" The very word a scathing brand delivered to him from his fair haired sire. "Aye that's me. A blight to any souls happiness. A stain to look down on by ones just as she." And him. Murtagh's eyes were of an onyx gleam directed towards his kind with a star unjustly caught in it's path.

"Dinna look at her that way." Jamie's voice was dangerously low as angers ignited in a flash and ran like a current across the table catching on Murtagh's sleeve enveloping instantly.

Ellen was first to grab the pitcher, Jamie crying out in a panic as he was set to leap over the table - all for naught as Claire could only watch as the events unfold.

Murtagh's arm, encased in a furious red hued in blue at it's core, was extinguished by a downward stroke of his hand. His skin unmarred, only the sleeve was a burnt up nothing. Blue eyes all round staring in open mouthed shock.

The billowing smoke slowly dissipated to the open window as silence hung in the air until only one was brave enough to disturb the quiet.

"Who are ye?" Ellen's voice quivered as she held the pitcher still. Unaware? Ready to throw? Didn't matter it would break in a moment.

"Am I much changed from our first meeting?" The corner of Bhrian's mouth lifted most pitiful as his shoulders sagged. "Not so young. Not so resplendent as when I came to ye, mo chridhe, dying for your touch?"

Ellen's hands reached for Jamie's, hers now free as pieces of porcelain scattered the floor and water pooled at her feet. Her eyes brimming with tears searching his face for recognition of the man who left her longing in memories and dreams.

With his head lowered from Ellen's scrutiny of his degraded state, he bowed it further to Claire, who hovered just beyond the settling grey.

"Forgive me, Claire." He sounded remorseful, ashamed. "It's wasn't you my vile temper was towards. The only blame lies within me, my own weakness."  

Claire didn't know if she spoke or nodded her head in acknowledgement, her focus was on Jamie. Pale faced, jaw clenched shut that sent the vessels in his neck to rapidly pulsate and firmly at his mother's side keeping her upright.

She stepped away from him and they - the family Fraser.

"From the beginning. Now." Ellen demanded.

Bhrian slunk down into the chair as his legs numbed, the stench of the scorched oakwood, nauseating as he was the target of it's fury. He picked up the story as Claire knew it, that had been passed on from every God and high being to fallen star and man.

He had been given a punishment from the God that was all at once his father, brother, friend. To be imprisoned with haunting dreams so vivid of what was lost to him - where in the span of a heartbeat he had once held and loved holiness herself. It became a torment worse then death that festered and rotted at the core of his molten self. Bhrian begged the high one whose very name meant mercy, to exile him to the low lands of man to the woman who held the cure. But His high one, with a shuddering breath had passed his judgement that could not be overturned even for his firstborn.

Then in Bhrian's endless mourning surrounded by his own diminishment whispers crawled up his spine and circled him with promises of alluring hope…

And so Bhrian found himself inhibiting the mortal world as a man his beloved wouldn't recall. Every few years he was able to serve his family as any man would, in a body that strained with labour no longer effortless, to earn what paltry sum he could. Yet even when his joints stiffened to a gnawing hurt and he was soaked in sweat he felt the poison cease in his blood

"I am a cowardly man as ye can see my loves. I wasn't brave enough to exist without ye and put myself at stake just to be near you both." He finished in a voice so small and hoarse.

"All this time," Ellen murmured. "I thought of you as my one true kin when all my family forsake me. My - who would never lie to me…" Her lower lip was bloodless and trembled. "And now ye'll leave us again?"

"It's no' my will or choice. I'm only allowed so much time here lest the world boil from my happiness and others grows suspicious if they aren't already." A faint weakly smile crossed Bhrians face. "I have a few days, less if ye want me out in the dirt, mo ghràidh."

A few days. Less…

"Gods, I dinna ken what I want to do to ye but stay so I can scream til yer ears bleed and thrash ye till your raw." With words of vowed violence, Ellen then spoke most longingly -

"Stay, mo Bhrian, mo sheann duine."

His name on her lips, a scarcity hardly breathed that relit him close to ash. Bhrian was set to weep.

With a sharp intake of air he spoke to his son a child no more.

"And you, Jamie? I know you harbour a justified resentment of me, of that I will not deny. Shall I pick up my sword or will we settle this with fists?" He rubbed his arm, while unblemished, was still reeling in the rare sensation of physical pain and was prepared for more and worse.

"Your gift of sword melted and forged with the earth, unfortunately. Nor have I found it necessary to invest in another, considering." Jamie set his hand on the table palm up."I have no cause to fight ye. I forgave ye by a brook at sunrise." Where his - Jamie swerved his head in search of a pair of amber eyes finding empty space. Did his flash of violence cause her to flee?

"You should go after yer rionnag." Bhrian urged seeing his sons distress, a pain all too familiar." In my haste to keep myself from the two of ye I may have broken her heart. A sin to do so to a daughter of the moon for they lose their radiance." And fall from grace endless till their no more then dust. But Bhrian withheld such dour information to himself.

"I take no offense, mo mhac." Bhrian spoke at Jamie's loyalties splitting him down the middle. "We will have our own time after your mother has her vengeance." Ellen's eyes flared as she smirked and Bhrian felt a shiver go down his spine. With an exchange of words Jamie headed out the door.

"He gets that tenderness from you, ever since he was a bairn, bringing any injured creature his wee hands could grasp. But ye ken that."

"And the strength mightier then a God from ye, mo chridhe. But ye know that."

Then a shyness creeped in that talk could not alleviate- still too great a many conversation that needed to be had - the only resolve was most upfront in Ellen's mind. She rose from her seat to be at Bhrian's side, whose breathing was ragged at her being so near. She touched his hands, nicked and splintered, furred black at the backs with knooby nuckles, hiding their elegance that had at once held her as if she were as holy as he. Ellen pulled them to her now giving him permission to touch her as he pleased.

They stayed where they were, fingers twitching at the fabric, palms broad at her thighs.

Ellen regarded the features of her beloved that lay hidden in a hardened face and underneath a mangy beard she'd swear to shear before dawn. She traced his face from temple to chin and with a grin pinched his longer nose. No, he didn't resemble much of the being of ancient perfection - yet, his eyes and hair were still dark as the veil of night that was overhead, with lips -now thinner - still holding promises of unending delight. Beckoning to her still as he burned rich in adoration, boundless and consuming to the bone.

"May I ask ye for a kiss to take with me to my lonely existence?"

"If ye had'na the scruff I would, but I see have no choice, mo ghraidh."

______

Claire was walking along the fence covered in sweetly honeysuckle vines and the odd sprout of violet buds that twirled with the white. She hoped all inside Lallybroch were not at one another's throats and as the potent smell of fire had yet to pierce the crisp air, she took it as a sign that all was well.

But still she lingered and would have stayed so, reluctant to interrupt the family finding their way, if it weren't for a heated touch at her shoulder that ran down to cup her elbow, turning her, drawing her near.

Jamie's natural ruddiness was dulled in the twilight, and his brows furrowed with a heavy crease between that gave her heart a stutter. Had it all gone wrong with his father? The hurt of the deceit too deeply rooted?

"Did it not go well with your father?" Claire raised her hand letting her fingers gently grazed the barely there stubble at his chin. "Is there anything I can do?"

Jamie shook his head, keeping her hand firmly to him by her wrist.

"It went more then well and I can hardly believe the truth of it. But you, mo Sorcha, took to the wind and had me worrit that I frightened ye with my temper. Ye must ken I had'na meant for it to happen, that I would never do such a thing."

"I know it, Jamie. A man who has empathy for trees would do no harm to a living soul. But thank you for defending my honor, even if it wasn't necessary." Her fingers had been brushing the curve of his jaw, with every stroke reeling him closer and closer so that he breathed his relief against her face. But only briefly.

"He - my father told me all, Sorcha. Of how ye knew who he was once you saw him, what he asked of ye and -" Jamie paused, trying to repress a forming frown. "Of how he could take ye home. I did vow I would see ye safely to yer proper place, though I figured it would be a ways from now." Months, maybe a year or more. Not days if even that.

Jamie tucked an errant wisp of hair behind her ear that the breeze had whipped about her face. Letting his fingers thread through her brown curls, already missing the way they made her huff in irritation and grow riotous in excitement.

"So did I." Claire croaked not meeting his eye, letting her own fall to the shriveled blades of grass beneath their feet."I never even got to see the ocean with you, see you pickled green with sick from it's briney waves." A smile faded just as it appeared at his spite towards moving waters. "We barely - and to never… " Her voice hitched as her ribs contracted, squeezing her lungs, suppressing words too painful to speak.

But her falter gave Jamie a surge of courage to ask his star for once what she wished for, no matter the answer. His arms came around her tenderly emanating warmth that thawed the vise at her ribs.

"You never asked to be here, to be torn away from all ye knew. Tell me, Sorcha, what does yer heart yearn for and I'll shower ye with all the glory of such a thing."

A choice of path no longer clouded with confusion and doubt or fear of what stirred at her breast.

"All my heart desires, that overwhelms me with such wanting, such happiness and so much love is you, Jamie. The only soul who ever looked upon me and saw hope, you who gave me second life." A confession so freeing even as it left Claire's heart hammering with breathlessness.

An ache so acutely echoed in that very same soul whose eyes of blue so like the core of impassioned fires sought hers and Claire had the dawning realization that she was never to be alone.

Her heart began to hum.

Jamie's hands splayed at Claire's back throbbed hot and gathered her to him till their heads were bent to one another. Where their chests heaved together, breath dizzied one another and all else was blotted away.

"Even if I canna adorn ye with the hallowed rings of Satárn? For all that my two hands are capable of they only offer ye a farmers life or of a wanderer sleeping in heather."

Did he truly think she cared? Her hands made their ascent up his chest that caused his lips to part for air and one went further still to cradle the back of his head to press it firmly to hers.

"The rings of Satárn are of rubble and I'd rather be with you in the freezing rains climbing a cursed mountain or in fields of sweltering heat. I love you more then any barren abyss."

A love that welled under the skin.

Where a hum became a hymn, so rousing. Reflecting starlight, so lustrous to be the envy of every star dotted above.

That set a another to burst in brilliant firelight and for all that bathed in it's beauty- every stalk, every blade and petal to flourish in magnificence.

"And I you, mo prìseil Sorcha. And I will -" Claire rudely, impatiently, boldly silenced Jamie with a kiss that he didn't seem bothered by as the roiling blaze sunk deep into their veins.

They saw one another in every flaw, every perfection They saw the span of their life intertwined past the time of Earth past the point of time where all that stood was he and her.

Even then we're they engulfed in whiteflames.

                                                      ______

And so it was that the night was long and peaceful. A gift bequeathed by the moon goddess herself, the keeper of all secrets for ones so deserving.

They who sought eternity in a lovers embrace.

A boy held his precious starlight close to his breast as consciousness stirred her to wake. A whimper was heard, a dreamy sigh responded and further they melted into one another with whispered reverences of love.

Another sigh was heard as Ellen shut the door to the room filled with a gauzy glow.

She was met with a crooked curious smile from her other half. With a shake of a head and wave of a hand, the red haired lass pulled 'Bhrians bare cheek, no beard to tug.

No cinders to smother just yet.

Ellen clasped her arms fiercely around his middle craving every lost touch as he crushed her to him as well. He rocked her back and forth where he reassured her again and again -

"We will have this day and many more to come."

Even if he be damned for it.

*The gaelic word for the sun is A'Ghrian but there is no emotional attatchment there and rather than going between three names I switched the G to a B for Brian. *Murtagh means Sea and skilled or skilled navigator which is close enough to water to be the suns opposite. *The High God is Lord John Grey who isn't evil just a stickler for the rules!! I mean Bhrian sent the world to chaos what was he supposed to do. John also means grace and mercy. Very fitting. *There is no scottish gaelic word for Saturn so I took it from the irish gaelic.

*Rionnag is star

* Mo sheann duine is my old man

*And I always forget- Mo preseil sorcha is my precious light I'm probably forgetting other tidbits too...

Sorry for another late update. I had this outlined this as fast paced and blunt when it was paired with the last chapter but separately just didn't work. So i had to rewrite this from the ground up and really struggled and drowned in the juggling act of two important conversations and emotions, when to be dramatic and when to be light. Love confessions that are a headache to write... Urgh! I hope it all makes sense I tried to keep the essential stuff (I deleted alot of convo between Jaime/Bhrian and Claire/Ellen..)

And finally, THANK YOU to every single person who read this little fantasy story that I thought literally no one would read and to every kind comment i recieved.

I hope you enjoyed the journey!!!

#Freedom to catch up on fanfics and podcasts like a nerd #Outlander #outlander fanfiction #outlander fanfic #jamie x claire #this storymay not be done...

[whiskynottea]

We’ll rise up. Chapter 6- Back at Saint Antoine

Previously Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 

Jamie felt François’ weight on his shoulder and the world’s weight on his back while he watched Claire move away.

His heart was crushed, a giant hand trying to squeeze it until there was nothing left.

Sir. She’d called him sir. Not Jamie, not even “my lad”, as she mocked him the first day they met. Could it possibly get any worse?

Five days passed without seeing her. Five days aching to hear her voice call his name, talk to him. All he did was thinking about her, desperate to figure out a plan to meet again – not an easy feat. With his noble façade to preserve and the everpresent duet of his uncle and godfather always keeping an eye on him, Saint Antoine could as well be in the North Pole; it seemed totally inaccessible.

Jamie was so focused on trying to find a way to go back to her place, it never occurred to him that they could meet elsewhere. No, not in his worst nightmare he would imagine such a reunion -- she, needing help and he, despairingly unable to assist her.

Jamie watched the brawl from afar without moving towards it, well aware of the risk this move beheld. Annalise was trembling next to him, clinging hard on his arm. The threat before their eyes kept her irksome blubbering voice in her mouth and Jamie was thankful for it. He had started taking Annalise away to avoid any uninvited attention from the men when he saw Claire. She was there, running to the fight.

His heart stopped for longer than he ever considered possible for a heart to dismiss its one and only function. His breath hitched in his throat. He felt drawn to her, his body leaning eagerly towards her like a compass needle pulled to the north. Taking a deep breath, Jamie gnashed his teeth, swallowed his anguish and fought for the sensible part of himself to prevail. 

As much as he didn’t want to leave Claire alone when she needed his help, it was pointless to present himself on her side in his current attire. Furthermore, Annalise was still with him and he had first to remove her from the scene. Swiftly, he led Annalise to a carriage, directing the driver to go straight to her house without any stop. The young woman was frightened and asked him to accompany her to the house but Jamie had no mind for her at the moment. Well trained, he buried the turmoil of his feelings deep inside and bade the woman au revoir with a bow and a fake smile on his lips. The moment the carriage was out of sight he turned and almost ran to Claire.

She had stopped them on her own and was now protecting the man on the ground, kneeling above him, while talking to the rebels. He couldn’t imagine a more extraordinary woman in his wildest dreams. Jamie stood in the shadows, knowing that if he would join her everything could go far worse but always ready to interfere if the matter went south. One of the men was solemn but the rest were still enraged and talked harshly to her. He remained unseen and observed her, admiring her spirit and determination. When the men finally retreated he enjoyed her triumph more than she seemed to do and watched a boy run to Claire, the same revel on his face as the one on Jamie’s. Ecstatic and proud, he walked to her to offer any help that she might need.

While crossing the street, several thoughts sneaked into his mind. Who was that boy and how did Claire know the wounded man? And more importantly, was he someone special for her?

Apart from the questions, he had some suggestions to make as well, on her choice of action and the way she valued her life. But most of all, he needed to see her eyes again and listen to her voice. He’d dreamed of this moment as he closed his eyes numerous times during the last days daydreaming about her, longing to come close to her again and smell the citrus and chamomile in her hair.

He rejoiced so much in the fact that Claire was safe in front of him and they met again that he couldn’t help the foolish grin forming on his lips while raising the stranger Claire was helping from the ground. Totally forgetting his outfit for a moment, he was certain that his feelings would be reciprocated.

Jamie’s reflection stopped the moment Claire looked at him. Something was terribly amiss. Her polite smile disappeared from her face when she realized who was the person that had rushed to their aid. After that, she was distant and avoided his eyes.

Jamie’s first thought was that Claire wanted to focus all her attention on the injured man. He left her some space and talked to the boy who was with her, but his eyes and mind never left Claire.

The cold gaze that had replaced the generous one he remembered shocked him. She didn’t address him and even when he later bent next to her, to satisfy his need to feel her closer, Claire ignored him.

Jamie’s worry kept increasing, when Fortuna -the goddess of luck- smiled at him. He’d volunteered to help the man back to his house and Claire finally raised her eyes on his again. She then really looked at him, as she did that night. He heard her sweet and sincere voice thanking him and felt his heart growing wings again.

It was just a moment before the ice crept back in. Her eyes trailed off on his clothes and then reality hit him, like a thunderbolt. Seeing the ominous sign, Jamie realized rain was coming hard on him and resolved to get as protected as he could be.

Gathering all the breath left in his chest he tried to explain himself. Claire was indifferent and didn’t even give him a chance. She addressed him as a stranger and left, taking the boy with her and wishing the man –whom she apparently knew– to have a quick recovery.

Jamie wasn’t a fool though. He saw her concealed anger in the wat her jaw was set and her hands fisted. She could pretend nonchalance but her hurt was clear to him in all her little moves.

Above all, she didn’t ask about his wound. Jamie had seen her mending himself and François and was sure that Claire cared deeply about her patients. 

However, she didn’t ask about his injury and how he was feeling.

That was good; Jamie smiled softly. She must have been furious. Her anger confirmed everything he thought laid between them. She cared for him and felt betrayed but there was still a chance to rectify what was done. He wouldn’t mess this up.

François groaned on his side and Jamie readjusted his position to help the man. He had to help him back home and then he would go immediately to find Claire.

“Where to?” he asked, eager to be done with the task.

“Merci, Monsieur for your help,” François politely replied and then answered Jamie’s question.

Their destination was not far but François kept a slow pace and Jamie had the impulse to take him in his arms and transfer him to the house as soon as possible.

“I believe you know mademoiselle Claire?” the man asked, making Jamie miserable. Talking would make him move even slower than he already did.

“Aye, ye can say we’re acquainted,” Jamie replied ruefully.

“She has a kind heart and a clever mind; always had. Her disposition can be that of great courage, as you can tell from today’s events. But she can be very headstrong. You must have patience.”

Jamie frowned. The man seemed to know Claire very well. How this servant knew so much of her character and why did he instruct Jamie on how to act concerning Claire? Now confused, he turned to see the man but the other just smiled to him and winked.

“I know love when I see it and you couldn’t take your eyes off her, monsieur.” Taking this as an answer to all his silent questions, Jamie chuckled and they continued their way.

The house where François lived was in the opposite way Claire had gone, near the Royal Palace and not far from Jared’s. His cousin’s income allowed him to inhabit a house in one of the richest districts of Paris and Jamie knew the neighbourhood well. After leaving François and giving him his best wishes, Jamie hastened his step back to the central part of the city, straight to the warehouse they kept the wine stocks. He changed his clothes, choosing a plain, dark grey attire and walked towards Saint Antoine ready to face Claire’s rage.

The closer he was getting to Claire, the harder it was to command his heart. When he finally arrived at her house he had to pause and take a few deep breaths. He’d made up his mind on his way there; he would tell her the truth, as hard as this might be and he wished that she’d believe him. He prayed her feelings were as strong as his - even if they were expressed only as anger at the moment.

Could that be possible? After meeting only the one time?

Claire was nowhere to be seen but Jamie saw Claudel playing with three other boys in a short distance. Claudel! What a name for a boy! He brought Sawny with him; luckily he had left the toy in the warehouse. Claudel saw him and directly left his company, trotting to Jamie. He was smiling and his warm brown eyes were shining with mischief.

“Hallo again, monsieur,” the boy addressed Jamie first.

“Hello to you too, Claudel,” Jamie paused and presented the wooden snake to the boy. “I brought you my wee snake, as I promised.”

The boy’s face lightened up and with a grin, he took the toy from Jamie. “Oui! It’s very nice, monsieur. What does Sawny mean?”

“Sawny is how my brother called me when I was just a bairn. Even younger than you,” Jamie replied wistfully. “He made it himself and gave it to me as a gift. Will you take care of him for me?”

“I will! I will never let it out of my sight, be sure of that!” Claudel replied enthusiastically.

“Weel, thank ye Claudel,” Jamie paused, frowning. “Do you like your name? Claudel, I mean?”

The boy’s amiable face contorted momentarily in thought, as if considering his name for the first time in his life. “I don’t mind it but I can’t say I like it,” he finally replied. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, I was thinking... Maybe, between you and me… Fergus is a much stronger name. Much more appropriate name for a man with responsibilities, ye ken?”

“Fergus,” Claudel whispered the name in a French accent. “I like it! Will you call me Fergus? Can I tell Milady to call me that as well?”

“Milady?” Jamie asked incredulously and immediately regretted his tone. Why would the boy address Claire with a term saved for the noble?

“Oui, mademoiselle Claire,” Claudel rephrased cautiously. “Can I tell her?” he continued eagerly focusing on his new toy and name.

“Well, if things go well we can tell her together. Is she here?”

“Oh no monsieur, she’s away” Claudel was sceptical on how much information he should give away.

“Can ye tell me where to find her?”

“You could wait here for her to return, no?” he entreated.

“I could, but I dinna have much time.”

Jamie saw his opportunity to talk to Claire slipping from his hands. He had to return at the wineshop on time or he would have to answer to a hell lot of questions from Jared.

Claudel’s face was scrunched in thought. “You won’t hurt Milady, will you? I think you like her.”

“Aye, I do like her. A lot. And I need to find her.”

“Milady went to walk by the Seine. She does that when she is angry or sad,” Claudel said, looking at Jamie. “Is she angry at you?”

“Aye” Jamie said leaving a breath, “I think she is.”

“Maybe she is angry because you made her sad. I think she was sad and I couldn’t make her smile today.”

“Weel, wee Fergus,” Jamie winked at him. “Let’s hope I will,” he said with a rueful smile and left Fergus behind.

Seine was not far and he had to find Claire. He was more concerned now, knowing that she was not safe at her home. What possessed her to go walking around just by herself?

God, if something happened to her because of him and his damned double-life…

Jamie quickened his step wishing that he’d find Claire and she’d be willing to listen to him. 

Mary, Michael and Bride, that she would believe his truth and forgive him!

He needed her to forgive him. What would he be otherwise? How could he live without her, now that he knew she was within his grasp?

Chapter 7

#we'll rise up #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #18th century #historical fanfic #jamie x claire #french revolution #where Claudel is renamed to Fergus #and is the biggest shipper <3

[sablelab]

Covert Operations - Chapter 138

SUMMARY: Fergus goes into bat for Bóinne Rivière trying to alter her abeyance profile and after discussion with Operations, Madeline puts forward a plausible reason to support Fergus’ request.  The two leaders ponder what they are going to do about the mole, Colum Mackenzie and indeed Jamie and Claire.

Chapter 137 and all other chapters can be found at … https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations  Sorry to say I am not on Ao3, but perhaps when I finish this story I will try and navigate how it works and how to post there.  

THANK YOU to everyone following this story.  I appreciate knowing that there are people who are enjoying what I have written each post, whether it be a like, comment or a reblog. Thank you so much for supporting Covert Operations.

CHAPTER 138

 “Thank you, Fergus, … I think I have a lot to discuss with Operations. You have been most thorough.”

Although Madeline’s reply had been a tacit order of dismissal, Fergus Claudel stood his ground. He only had one chance to put forward his case and swallowing the bullet he cleared his throat then uttered, “Ah … there is one other thing I would like to discuss with you both.”

“Really Mr Claudel … and what is that?”  “I inadvertently came across Bóinne Rivière’s reclassification status in my search.” This time Operations replied, remembering that Fergus had casually asked after the fate of the abeyance operatives when he’d went to discuss the Somalia mission. He recalled that Fergus had been talking to Murtagh and the person he’d mentioned earlier in Comm. and this was quite plausible as he had to access the nurse’s file in his search.

“I see. And?” “I would seriously like for you to reconsider her new mission profile given how she was crucial in providing the concrete Intel that linked Frank Wolverton-Randall to Colum. It provided the proof we needed that he was indeed the mole.”  Fergus watched his leaders trying to gauge their reaction to what he had just said. However, the raised brow of Operations gave him an uneasy feeling that Section’s leader was aware that he knew exactly what he was trying to do and why. “You can't protect her forever ... or him.” Fergus was thrown off kilter with this observation. “What do you mean?”  “You know what I mean. ... We know you tampered with her abeyance records. ... Don't start thinking with your heart. Section is not the place to do that.” Fergus immediately crumbled realising that what he had proposed was obviously in vain. It appeared that Operations and Madeline had already made up their minds about Bóinne and her usefulness to Section. He sighed. “Sorry.” “You're too valuable to us ... but we’ll think about what you have said. You may go.” Madeline’s reply was encouraging … they hadn’t completely closed the door on Bóinne’s re-classification. Fergus only hoped that he had done enough to help her and that his superiors wouldn’t hold it against him.

Perhaps he had also given them cause to rethink their decision to place her in abeyance. The medical nurse had been instrumental in connecting the dots to Frank Wolverton-Randall and just maybe this would be enough for them to reconsider their decision. Alternatively, perhaps he could find something else that would significantly help her cause if he only delved a little deeper into her file. Bóinne Rivière’s cancellation could cause more problems for Operations and Madeline than it would solve. Murtagh Fitzgibbons had been crucial in the retrieval mission; there was every chance that he may be needed again in some way in the future to trap Sun Yee Lok and his cohorts. If his beloved was cancelled, he didn’t know what Murtagh would do in his grief and the two leaders knew this only too well.  Like Madeline and Operations, the IT specialist had much to mull over in his mind. Their conversation was now obviously at an end so without even a slight backward glance; Fergus quietly left Madeline’s office.  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Section’s leader paced the floor of her office pondering the skulduggery of Colum’s monitoring in the Rising Dragons’ mission and more so for his insinuations that he was in any way responsible for the disappearance of Section One’s founder Letitia Chisholm. His face echoed his sour demeanour and if looks could kill, his nemesis would have been six feet under before his body was cold.  “What are we going to do about Bóinne Rivière?” Madeline asked watching Dougal pace back and forth once Fergus had left her office. Operations however, had little regard for the issue Fergus had raised about Murtagh’s girlfriend. He dismissed Madeline’s inquiry as if he would brush away a fly. To him, it was of little consequence for his mind was on more pressing issues. “Cancel her,” he barked without the slightest thought for what their IT specialist had told them. “I think you should reconsider that,” Madeline cajoled trying to soothe over this small problem before tackling the major one she knew Operations was thinking about. “Reconsider? You must be joking.”  Madeline continued her placating of the savage beast. “Fergus raised some valid points Dougal. Nurse Rivière had the opportunity to withhold the device but she didn't and it did give us the proof we were looking for.” Her words appeared to have hit the spot. Operations calmed down a little. He pondered what she’d said for a short while before responding with reluctance, “True.” So his second in command continued with her reasons while giving him time to reassess her status. “Details will eventually leak out into the ranks. Bóinne Rivière’s death would not be received well by Fitzgibbons or her colleagues in Med Lab. I'd rather deal with one underperforming Operative than rebellion by several. You know Murtagh … he can be cantankerous at the best of times. He would take her death hard. Fergus was right … Who knows how he would respond?” Her logical explanation had the desired effect. “Perhaps I might reconsider then … for the time being,” he added reluctantly in addendum. Turning towards Operations Madeline gave another opinion. “Good … I feel that killing Bóinne Rivière will not serve us well. We cancel her and Murtagh wouldn’t care if he died too. You remember his three-year review, don’t you?”  “Of course, … So, in your opinion he really would be willing to die?”  “Yes, I do.” “Then what? There must be some way to reassess her suitability to Section, but I’m sure you’ll think of something Madeline.” “I'm working on it. She will make a mistake eventually and then any problem with her status will take care of the nurse itself, but in the meantime, we have Murtagh Fitzgibbons where we need him.” Operations rubbed his chin in reflection of her statement, “Hmmm … and Fergus.”  He looked at Madeline as if to say it was a win-win for the time being given that the state of the Rising Dragons’ mission was in limbo at the moment. “Murtagh did perform well on the retrieval mission; we might indeed have to use him again.” “Yes, you just never know and if he is antagonistic towards us because of this woman’s death, it could be a huge problem. We can’t have Fitzgibbons being distracted or becoming recalcitrant if anything happened to his fiancée. It could set off a chain reaction mutiny with other operatives.” Operations thought for a moment, looked off into space, then reluctantly accepted Madeline's logic by nodding his head. “Very well … we’ll postpone our decision on her until the Rising Dragon’s mission is finalised.” “Yes … I agree. That is a sensible compromise … and then we can review her status if things change or improve.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Although what they had discussed went a small way in solving one of the problems they faced, nonetheless what Operations really wanted to discuss was the anathema to him … his older brother … Colum. Fergus’ Intel had been explosive.

To think that his brother was keeping tabs on their top operatives and the disappearance of Section One’s founder was inexcusable, but what were the reasons why.  Fergus had alluded to the disappearance of Letitia Chisholm as one reason, and it did worry him that he may find incriminating Intel on her vanishing without any trace, but were there others? Did he have a parallel profile on the triad members and had he done this for pure one-upmanship by using a mole to further his advantage at Centre and Mr Lambert? It galled him to think that Colum would try and do something so obvious to win favour at Centre.  Why the interest in Jamie and Claire’s success on the mission?  So many questions and as yet no concrete answers.

Operations’ hackles were heightened and his shell-shocked disposition was evident. Without doubt, you could have cut the atmosphere with a knife in Madeline’s office it seemed so tangible.  His voice was laced with contempt for Oversight’s leader and he couldn’t hide an escalating irate temper.

“This is treason! Colum has taken this too far this time Madeline. Any of our quarrels pale into insignificance with the implications of this treachery.”  Dougal’s demeanour at the thought of his brother’s unannounced visits to Section One to hear proceedings about the Rising Dragons’ mission rapidly changed until his face was a glaring red hue of rage. His mind backtracked over the times Oversight’s leader had visited.

Obviously, those times were just a ruse, to see where Section was in bringing the mission to its end game. Although Colum’s last visit was laced with concern for Jamie and Claire’s wellbeing his motives, no doubt, were to gauge if he could at last get the jump on Section in capturing the triad members with his own operatives. This seemed the most plausible reason given their rivalry. He and Madeline needed to get to the bottom of his brother’s skulduggery in order to answer these pressing questions and cover their backs if needs be.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Aware of what Operations’ thoughts might be, Madeline answered his statements with a dose of reality about what they had just heard from Fergus. “Colum wouldn’t have been able to do that without help. Fergus was right Dougal … it does all point to Frank Wolverton-Randall.” Her words brought him back to the present moment as Madeline continued. “I suspect that Colum has been piggy backing off Section One in order to capture Sun Yee Lok before we do. So, any Intel on how the mission was going was in his interests if he was to keep in front of the eight ball. Colum obviously wanted to know what Section One had on the triad leader in order to run a parallel sting on him before Jamie and Claire could bring him in.” “Precisely … I’m sure that’s why he visited so many times unannounced.” “He needed to know what progress we had made and if what Frank Wolverton-Randall had passed on to him was accurate before he was transferred.” “If he could get a jump on our Intel, and if he was to capture Sun Yee Lok, he would certainly claim all the glory for himself and Oversight and in so doing demonstrate incompetence in my leadership at Section One to ultimately undermine me.” “So it would seem.” “I repeat … He has gone too far this time Madeline. The depths to which he would sink to best us are reprehensible.” “Perhaps he is trying to discredit you in front of Mr. Lambert. He knows you have aspirations to be the leader of Oversight one day.” “He wants to hang on to power at all cost and doesn’t care who gets in his way. Colum has always been a self-serving bastard looking for any opportunity to further his interests and profile for the Head of Centre.” Madeline emphasised with her leader’s summation about Colum. “Obviously, but … if he is bragging to Mr Lambert about his monitoring of Jamie and Claire, then why? Does he think we are incapable of trusting our operatives to complete the capture of the triad leader successfully? Does he have plans to usurp us on the Rising Dragon’s mission? And why his data collecting on Letitia?”

“That … is another matter altogether Madeline. It would seem he would stop at nothing to discredit us and implicate us in her disappearance.” “Jamie and Claire’s downtime was the perfect opportunity for Colum to get a head start on Sun Yee Lok’s whereabouts if he wants to bring in the triad leader by his own operatives.” Madeline had hit a major nerve. “No wonder Colum was so adamant that they have two weeks … against my better judgement I might add,” he reiterated with scorn. “Point taken Dougal,” conceded Madeline, “Although I hate to say this, downtime was still necessary for Jamie and Claire’s recovery for them to be at their optimum.” “We don’t know that yet. Two weeks away from the mission could be vital in Colum trumping Section. That would be intolerable,” he replied pacing the floor of her office racking his brain as to how they could proceed with averting all of this. “Let’s hope that he hasn’t jumped the gun on us. I very much doubt he would have, given were the triad stood after the retrieval mission’s success.” Madeline’s logic made sense and Operations cooled his heels somewhat knowing that his second in command would have some plans of her own to beat his brother at his own game. “What are we going to do then?”  “First of all, we need damage control with Mr Lambert. Who knows what Colum has been telling him about the Rising Dragon’s mission?” “Yes … I agree.” “I’ll contact Centre with our status. I’m sure Mr Lambert would like a point of view from my perspective,” Madeline proposed with assurance. Section’s leader liked what he was hearing. “Go on.” “We’ll also be able to gauge if Colum has any leads on the Rising Dragons that we don’t have. We’ve come too far on the mission profiles to let him defeat us.” She looked at Operations intently. “We can fix this Dougal.” “How? What else do you have in mind?” “We’ll get Fergus to call in any informants in Hong Kong and see what they can come up with.” “Who?”  “John Grey for one. He works freelance and is inconspicuous in his movements. He has an overabundance of contacts he can utilise for us. He’s always come through before.” “Anyone else?” “Phil Jurgen is located in that area.” Operations shook his head. “No, I’m not totally convinced he is reliable … Grey is closer to the situation. Doesn’t he have interests in Hong Kong?” “Yes. You have a point. He moves in a wide range of circles. He’s bound to have heard something.” “That’s settled then.” “And besides … It may be better to rely on just one informant than risking Colum finding out that we are making enquiries about him.” “He’ll think he has had a two week window on us, but I’m sure John Grey may be able to shed more light on the situation in Hong Kong than what Colum knows.” “Tell Fergus to get on to it straight away then.” “Certainly.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ “Do you think this will work Madeline?” “I do,” was her confident reply. Section’s head strategist knew that the depth of his brother’s betrayal had cut deep for Dougal but if they acted expediently … they could best him before he turned the tables on them. Operations was still somewhat apprehensive. “It won't take long before Colum finds a way to get through to Mr. Lambert. And god knows what Intel he’ll have on the Rising Dragons. We have to reel him in before he does.” “We’ll trump him first. We'll use every available resource.” Happy with Madeline’s proposition Operations waited for what she had in mind. “I’m all ears.”

“We’re going to make Colum think that he has a heads up on Intel pertaining to the triad because of his mole. However, because he also has suspicions about you Dougal, we’ll have to change that.”  

“Brilliant …” His eyes suddenly became intense and he gave Madeline a piercing glare. “… but there is another option.” Knowing where he was heading, she was not at all happy with his proposal. “That's an option I'm not completely comfortable with.” Nevertheless Operations was adamant that his idea would get rid of Colum once and for all. “You know as well as I do. We push the button, make a hit on Colum and blame it elsewhere.” “This is not the time to get personal Dougal.” “It is to me. Colum has overstepped the line this time. He has to pay.” Madeline was uneasy with his plan realising the consequences were not entirely for the right reasons. “Of all the people on the planet to target for assassination, your brother is by far the most dangerous. This would be a last resort. It could backfire on us.” “Then we'll have to go about it very carefully, won't we … if … I repeat … if he persists in undermining Section on the Rising Dragons’ mission. I won’t tolerate it Madeline. I will not!”  Operations’ tirade put an end to any more discussion on the matter. To him it was over.  However, Madeline had the last word on the subject of Colum Mackenzie after all. “If it ever comes to that, we’ll have to bide our time for the right opportunity … but this is not the right time. It would be far too suspicious if it were to happen because of his interference in the Rising Dragons’ mission. The finger of blame would immediately be pointed at Section One and us. I would not contemplate assassination as the method of paying Colum back Dougal. There are other ways!” Although he heard what Madeline had to say in reply, he chose to ignore her and changed the subject. “And what about Frank Wolverton-Randall?”  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ “I think we can arrange for him to return from the substation back to Section.” “Elaborate.”  

“We’ll say that we need his help in profiling, as our new Intel on the Rising Dragons will overload Fergus. Colum will certainly like that, as he’ll have his inside contact back in the thick of things especially if the order comes from Mr. Lambert for his return to Section One. Colum will be under the impression that having your enemies closer will work in his favour, but of course we’ll turn the tables on him and have Wolverton-Randall cancelled in due course.”

A wry smile crossed Operations’ face as Madeline outlined her strategy. “Excellent.”

“But, we can't do anything about Frank … just yet. Colum will be watching. His status can't be tampered with at the moment. The best we can do is to keep them both from knowing we're on to his subterfuge.”  “Agreed.” 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ “And what are we going to do about Colum’s suspicion that I am responsible for Letitia’s disappearance?  If he finds out that is true all hell will break out.”

“There could be a way around it Dougal but we will need to play our cards close to our chest.”

“What do you propose?”

“I think we need to show Colum that we have had a major personal falling out.”

“Such as?”

“Sexual intimidation and coercion Dougal. It needs to be something that he will believe and if you are pressuring me for sex against my will then it would not be too farfetched that I would jump at the chance to get my own back at you.”

Dougal took a moment to ponder her suggestion. “Yes, that would work.”

“I’ll indicate that I am fed up with you using me for sex, so I’ll make a deal with Colum to make him think that I will betray you because of this. As payback, I’ll give him information about you and Letitia and he will give me something I want in exchange, say … the company Key File module for encrypting software. That will give me complete data access, control and protection in undermining you.”

“Go on …”

“We’ll initiate a set up to blackmail Colum when he meets with a courier that he thinks he can trust but in fact the result will be that he just exchanged the Key File for money.”

“Do you think that is believable and that he will not be suspicious?”

“Not if we use someone such as a known corrupt associate who thinks he will be exonerated for the exchange.”

“Who do you have in mind?”

“Lionel Brown.”

“Excellent.  He has always been a rogue intelligence officer who peddles Intel to terrorists and he is on the Pentagon’s Red List.”

“Indeed, he is. It will look like Colum was paying and cooperating with a known shady extremist and because of this we can blackmail him for anything we want.”

Operations gave his second in command a wry smile. “Madeline … I love the way you think.”

“Thank you, Dougal. However, Colum must not suspect we are pretending to fight and have sex. We will need to be convincing so that he will think that I would betray you because of a toxic and controlling relationship.”

“Oh, I can be very convincing Madeline as too can you,” he said with a wry smirk at the very thought of besting his brother and finally having him out of his hair.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“So … that just leaves Jamie and Claire.” “Hmmm?” Operations pondered before smiling at Madeline and removing his glasses. “They’ll have to return to Section of course in the next couple of days once we have put these measures in place.” The glee in his eyes was palatable. She returned his candour. “Yes ... I couldn’t agree with you more. However due to expediency I think we can forgo their Psyche Assessment in the interim. I will just make keen observations as to their mental acuity and physical attributes to continue the mission.  They’ll want to return to the mission profile if they know they have the best chance of capturing Jonathon Randall and Sun Yee Lok’s daughter. Jamie won’t want Colum or any of his operatives to bring in any person who was responsible for Claire’s atrocities … including the triad’s leader himself.” “Madeline you never cease to amaze me.” Satisfied that they had covered all bases, Operations’ dry wit raised its head. “Another day at the office?”  His second in command smiled in appreciation of his witticism. Operations turned to go, but then he thought of something else. “You said Jamie and Claire were off the radar and their trackers were down. How do you plan on contacting them?” “I have my ways.” “Good. Do it!” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~to be continued Friday 14th August

#jamieandclairecrossover #Jamieandclairefanfic #the lallybroch library #outlander fiction #LFNoutlander #covert operations

[sablelab]

Covert Operations - Chapter 127

SYNOPSIS:  While Jamie and Claire travel to their downtime destination, Murtagh Fitzgibbons is summoned to the White Room and Madeline questions him about the breach and Colum Mackenzie.  He asks if his girlfriend Bóinne is under suspicion and defends her.  He also suggests that perhaps Colum planted some devices in Section without their knowledge. This plants a seed in Madeline’s mind.

Chapter 126 and all other chapters can be found at … https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations

THANK YOU all so much for the feedback on the last chapter. Your comments were wonderful and I am humbled by the response Chapter 126 had. Things have been tough for Jamie and Claire and hopefully they have now found a haven in which to recuperate. Things at Section One are heating up as well as Madeline and Operations come to grips with the interference from Colum Mackenzie.  The question is why? And if there is a mole, who could it be? All will be revealed in due course.

  CHAPTER 127

Fergus Claudel looked at his friend Murtagh with concern on his face. He adjusted the glasses on his nose in nervous tension dying to know what had just happened, who had called and most importantly … why.

“What’s the matter?” Replacing the handset back into its cradle on the wall, Murtagh took a breath to compose his thoughts knowing that the techie would have a million questions, then he turned around to face his buddy. He looked up at Fergus and told him the news. “They want to see me in the White Room.” “What! Both of them? That can’t be good.” “No just Madeline as far as I know. But who knows? Operations may be there too.” “You okay?” “Yeah. Knowing that Madeline wants to see me in the White Room sort of reshuffled my deck just a little bit there for a while.” “Did they say why? What do they want with you?” “What do you think? I guess I just pushed the envelope once too often again,” he joked as the colour returned to his face. Fergus’s apprehension returned once more. “This is my fault. It’s because I told them a lie about the breach. They’ve found out it was not true. You can’t beat Section.”  “No, you did the right thing.” Fergus was thankful for Murtagh’s comment but nevertheless he felt for his friend. “Will you be all right?” “I’ll be fine … it could be about something else altogether.” Fergus suddenly felt a glimmer of hope although it was very slim. “Do you think so?” Replying confidently he stated categorically. “I know so. Operations was completely satisfied with the outcome, so it can’t be about the breach. Maybe it’s about something altogether different. We’ll just have to wait and see. I don't think it's going to go too badly. They seem to be in a forgiving mood.” “You think so? Madeline and Operations are seldom in a good mood. Why would they be this time?’ “I’ll be fine. There’s nothing to worry about. It is probably just routine.” However, Fergus was not so sure. “Murtagh… listen … is there anything I can do to get you out of this?” “Nah. They might be calling everyone in including you too.” 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Taken aback, Fergus was a little petrified having never been in the White Room before and being a little squeamish too he knew what tactics were employed to make people talk. He hadn’t even been able to watch interrogations on his monitor so how could he cope in such a situation?

“Murtagh I’m worried. What if they torture me for Intel?” “I’ve already told you there’s nothing to worry about. They won’t torture you Fergus.”

Fitzgibbons screwed his face up. As he did so, the laughter lines were prominent on his craggy face. The young techie was gradually going a whiter shade of pale and unable to stop himself from teasing his friend a little more Murtagh replied candidly.

“They’ll just scare the living daylights out of you and maybe rough you up a little.”  This time Fergus was really petrified. “Really?” “Relax amigo. I was only joking.” “That’s not funny Murtagh,” he replied horrified. “I’ll be a blithering mess. I won’t be able to cope.” “Yes you will … remember what I said about knowing when to lie, and when to tell the truth … well this is one of those times.” “Are you telling me, to lie?” “No, I'm telling you to survive. But how you do it is up to you.” Fergus heard what Murtagh had said but he didn’t really listen to him. He continued to prattle on about his thoughts spinning all kinds of horrible scenarios in his head. He felt a panic attack coming on.

“They'll use invasive testing. What should I do?”  The older operative could see that his friend was scared stiff. He had not diffused the situation enough to make his worry go away. There was only one thing he could think of... but it was a little drastic. He gave Fergus a solemn look.

“If you’re really worried this is what you can do …”  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Murtagh Fitzgibbons made his way to the White Room somewhat apprehensive as to what might await him once he entered the interrogation chamber. It was unusual to say the least as to why he’d been summoned to an inquisition in there of all places. Unfortunately, his conversation with Fergus had raised some doubts in his own mind despite his replies otherwise to appease his friend’s concerns.  Perhaps Operations and Madeline had indeed had a change of mind about the events in Section that he and Fergus had in fact caused. But Operations rarely went back on any decisions he’d made and Fergus had provided unequivocal evidence to support his theory, so that should have been the end to it. So why had he been summoned to the White Room? What was the reasoning behind his orders? Something else must have rattled their cage. But … what was it? Was it to find out if he was able to contact Jamie and Claire or was it about Oversight and Colum? There was known animosity between the leaders and perhaps he was too knowing about the happenings at Section One for Operations and Madeline’s liking. Whatever the reason he and Fergus knew nothing about Colum Mackenzie and any interference he may have caused at Section. Hence, he was reassured that they really did have nothing to worry about.  He soon rounded the corner and the imposing door to the White Room loomed in front of him. Standing on the threshold Murtagh took a deep breath and reaching out his hands pushed the door open. The noise of the creaking hinges echoed loudly in the corridor. The sound also reverberated in his head as it opened to reveal who and what was in the White Room. Murtagh studied the place where terrorists had been interrogated and tortured a tad reluctant to enter. The only items occupying the round room were an imposing metal chair, a table and a small computer standing next to it. His eyes surreptitiously cased the surroundings and the rigid back of the sole person waiting for his arrival.  “Come in Murtagh,” Madeline cajoled. Entering the stark white room warily, he walked over towards Section One’s head strategist and inquisitor extraordinaire.

“Killing me I can understand. But ... torture?”  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Madeline turned around to face Section’s weapons expert and watched as he entered the White Room and walked over to her. Ignoring his remarks, she said, “Please sit down.”  He took a seat in the chair occupying the sparse room while somewhat cynically looking around the area and waited his fate. Madeline was alone and she didn’t strap him into the chair as was the usual procedure for interrogations. There was also little paraphernalia on the table and the computer was not switched on so that was a good sign also. However, any thought of reprieve was short lived as the twins entered and strapped him into the chair as protocol directed. Once that was done, they looked at Madeline for further instructions before leaving the room on her tacit command. Murtagh Fitzgibbons waited for his fate. Madeline started circling the chair in an off-putting manner as if to gather her thoughts and he was none the wiser as to her intentions.  She finally stopped walking around after a few times and stood in front of him. Her stance was stoic and her eyes looked right through him. He braced himself for whatever was to come, but her words were not what he’d expected to hear.

“You're not going to be tortured.” “Well that’s a relief.”  But she hadn’t finished speaking. “And you're not going to be killed …”  “Even better.” Her sentence trailed off and Murtagh knew that there was some kind of proviso. Raising an eyebrow in curiosity at what Madeline had said, he decided to ask what his fate may be. “Then why am I here?”  “Some questioning.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Section’s head strategist couldn’t have been more enigmatic.  Initially Murtagh thought he was here in the White Room to be asked about the breach, but Madeline had given no inclination that he or Fergus were implicated in any way. He was sure she would have used a different tack rather than just questioning him if she suspected they had been responsible. But on noticing a syringe on the table, he wasn’t so sure about her motives after all. He gave her an indifferent glance and brazenly asked, “What’s that stuff?” Madeline pulled her hands out from behind her back. “It’s a sedative,” she responded nonchalantly. “Any particular reason why I might need that?” He asked questioningly before giving a tongue in cheek reply. “Why don't you just give me a couple of aspirins and I'll call myself in the morning?” “A bio probe requires the subject to be relaxed.” That certainly got Murtagh’s attention as her reply was somewhat disconcerting. “Bio probe? Is this some type of truth serum?” Was Madeline playing mind games with him after all? That was her forte after all.  “You may feel light headed; may even hallucinate,” Madeline said quietly as she read the alarmed emotions skimming across his face.  However, trying to diffuse the situation he gave another flippant comeback in return. “Haven’t done that in years.” Madeline gave a wry smile at his typical retort but brushed it aside as there were pressing issues that needed to be addressed. Her steely manner indicated that she meant business. “If I’m not satisfied with the answers you give, that’s your only option.” It was then that she surprised him and came right to the crux of the reason he was here in the White Room. Madeline didn’t even bat an eyelid as she asked with conviction, “Don't you want to tell me about your part in the breach?” Looking his superior straight in the face and without flinching he stated, “There’s nothing to tell.” She was not convinced. “Are you sure?” “Positive. I had nothing to do with the breach and besides didn’t Fergus find that the cause was a malfunction.” Madeline stood her ground and glared at Murtagh. She continued her questions as if he hadn’t answered her at all. “Did you really think you could get away with this? You and Fergus were in a restricted area without authorization. How do you explain that?” “We did explain that to your satisfaction and besides we were in Systems when all the hullabaloo went down so how could we be responsible when we were nowhere in the vicinity. I think you are chasing rainbows Madeline. There is nothing more to add.”  See gave him a steely look telling Murtagh that she was not finished yet. “Oh ... there is one thing ...” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Satisfied that his answers were unwavering Madeline decided to pursue a new line of questioning about the other pressing matter. She took something from her pocket and showed him a small CD. “I'd like you to take a look at something.”  Even more curious, Murtagh took the CD and studied it, completely at sea as to what it might contain. “What's on this?” He inquired with interest.  “Let’s play it shall we ... and you'll see,” was her enigmatic reply. Madeline gave Murtagh one of her Mona Lisa smiles which, but far from putting his mind at ease, only exacerbated his curiosity as to what it may contain. He was at a loss to think of anything that it might be. 

Was there actually evidence on the CD that had placed them in the restricted area which had been captured on a hidden camera? He quickly dismissed that idea as he’d been responsible for setting up the security in that area and knew exactly where to be cautious. 

Perhaps she was trying to trip him up on his answers to her questions?  However, he dismissed that idea as well. Madeline would have used the sedative by now if she hadn’t been satisfied with his initial answers as she’d indicated she would. He racked his brain to think of other scenarios but came up empty handed.  He briefly looked around the room, as if searching for anything that would provide some light on whatever it was that Madeline had in mind before she loaded the CD into the computer and showed him the download. The picture that appeared before him was quite confronting and he was taken by surprise by what he saw. Murtagh gasped as he watched several images of Bóinne and himself in Medical when he’d gone to check up on Jamie and Claire. However, he was more amazed when images from the covert area where they would meet within Section also appeared. He was shocked that surveillance he was unaware of, had caught the two of them together in intimate moments when they thought they were away from prying eyes. Little did they know that they were indeed being observed but what bothered him most was that Operations and Madeline had proof of their intimate relationship and clandestine meetings. He wondered what else they had on him and Bóinne. He soon found out. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ The room lights dimmed and a vision of light appeared on the floor in front of him … but it was not as Murtagh expected. As he watched, a circle of light rose from the floor; two figures began to take shape in its centre which miraculously morphed into himself and his paramour. The holograph had all of their mannerisms and captured their every word when he’d returned from the retrieval mission and was heading for his quarters when Bóinne had appeared out of nowhere. He watched and listened to the recording of their conversation. "Not here Murtagh!" "Why not?" "Oh it's … it's just too dangerous, that's all. Someone may see us." "That's what makes you so exciting. I like it ... dangerous!" "Murtagh, you're playing with fire."  "Grrr … I know. Right now, I could self-combust."  "Look Murtagh … I've got to go ... I'll see you when I finish my shift." "Yes … I'll ... see you later. I'll be waiting."  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ “Would you care to explain this?” Madeline’s words cut through the air like a knife. He was still gobsmacked that they had evidence of their private meeting. Suddenly, he had vivid memories of what had taken place later that evening after he’d returned from the retrieval mission. Murtagh swallowed a deep breath before answering. “I think it pretty self-explanatory myself,” he replied with a twinkle in his eye.  “Did you really think you could get away with this?”  Her tone was cool but Murtagh took it all with a grain of salt. “Get away with what?” He asked surprised at her question. “Fraternization between operatives for one thing.” He was quick with a rejoinder barb. “A bond between two agents isn't always such a bad thing.”  Madeline however, left no doubt about what her thoughts were. “Is that so?”  In reply he stated the obvious. “You always knew that we had a thing going. You can’t deny it. You always seem to know everything that goes on in Section.” A wry smile skimmed her lips. “Yes, that is true.” “Well what Bóinne and I have … it’s called living.” “Living?”  “Look it up, it’s in the dictionary.” Madeline was gradually losing patience with him and his glib answers. “Murtagh Fitzgibbons, you’re a 60-year-old teenager. Ever since your return from the retrieval mission you have changed.”  “I'm really not interested in just surviving anymore. I am interested in living that's where the real difference is.” “I see …” He interrupted Madeline before she could continue. “In fact, we're getting married … I asked Bóinne last night. She accepted right away,” he added for extra emphasis. This information got her attention. “We were aware that Bóinne was on familiar terms with you but we didn’t realise it had progressed that far.”  “Facing death can make you re-evaluate your life.” “I guess congratulations are in order then.” “Thanks but don’t knock yourself out saying it Madeline.” She ignored his statement and continued her agenda. “Regardless of Bóinne’s new status, what we need to know is this … is she loyal to the Section?” Taken aback by Madeline’s line of questioning Murtagh replied emphatically. “Of course, she is … one hundred percent. Why?” “Can you be sure?” “What does that mean?” “We believe that there is a mole in Section who is passing on Intel to Colum at Oversight.” “Is Bóinne under suspicion?” He wanted to know now realising the motive behind Madeline���s statement. “Everyone is under suspicion … including you.” “She works in medical. Bóinne is a nurse not an operative.”  “Precisely ... but she is still an operative first.” “What Intel could she possibly pass on to Colum?”  “Medical Intel about Jamie and Claire.” “Why would Colum want with Intel on them? He can ask you and Operations for all he needs to know.” Madeline repeated her question ignoring the truth of this fact. “Is Bóinne responsible for passing Intel on to Colum?” In defending her, Murtagh’s hackles began to rise as each question probed deeper into his fiancée’s character. “No! Of course not! You can’t be serious and believe that she is a mole.”  “Well how did Colum get prior information? He seems very well informed on their progress.” “How should I know? … Perhaps he’s planted some devices in Section without your knowledge. That would be a first …,” he added under his breath. However, Madeline heard his remark. “Perhaps you are the one responsible. You’ve had access to Medical on numerous occasions. Did you hand the Intel to Colum? Or are you going to deny it?” “Yes, of course I deny it. I gave him nothing. Why would I do that? I have nothing to gain. I've been doing this job since before you came to Section, and I can probably do your job too … but I am not a mole.” “Really?”  “Really.” Becoming frustrated by his answers, Madeline seemed to be making little headway. “This level of betrayal from you would be unacceptable. Answer me Murtagh.” She leaned in closer until her face was parallel to his. “Or we can inject the sedative, and start this procedure right from the top. Is that what you want?” “I did answer you. I’m not the mole and I’d bet my life on Bóinne not being one also. If you want something from me, just come out and say it or else you can go straight to …” “One of these days you're going to carry this cranky old man act a little too far Fitzgibbons.” “Okay, spare me the excerpts from the owner's manual do whatever you're going to do and just get on with it! Call in the twins.”  “That won’t be necessary. Murtagh, did you do it?” Shaking his head in denial his reply was categorical. “No! What is happening to this place Madeline? This would never have happened back then when Letitia was heading Section. We all had our jobs, we did them, we were a team, we respected each other.” “We didn't change Murtagh, the world did.” “That’s the pity especially when you interrogate people because of their loyalty to the Section. I would have thought that my past record stands on its own and would not be questioned. I am not the mole and Bóinne is not the mole. We’re just doing our jobs as best we can.”  Madeline looked at Murtagh Fitzgibbons and knew he was telling the truth. He was not the infiltrator but he had given her some food for thought about Colum that she would need to follow up. Dismissing him she stated.

“That will be all … you can go.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ After Murtagh had been summoned to the White Room, Fergus stayed behind in the back room of Munitions. He was a little spooked about his friend being called in for interrogation and hoped that his fate would not be too painful. Whenever Madeline or Operations was on the warpath, heads rolled and he certainly didn’t want to be placed in abeyance because of some prank that had gone horribly wrong. He’d told him not to worry, but that never stopped the demons in his mind raising their ugly head. He wouldn’t have been in this situation if Murtagh had not initiated their clandestine search for Jamie’s files in the first place. Although at the time it seemed like a good idea that was not the case now. Because of what they’d done, all of Section had to undergo interrogation so that Madeline could get to the bottom of the breach, when there really wasn’t one in the first place. The more he thought about the results of their actions the more Fergus was worried that he would suffer the wrath of Section’s leaders. In his mind his fate was already sealed. He seemed to be destined for abeyance after all. That was unless he could carry out Murtagh’s plan.  However, it was his friend’s novel idea that he was having second thoughts about. Fergus just didn’t know if he was brave enough to follow through with his buddy’s suggestion, but what options did he have? He decided to bite the bullet and give it a try. Taking one more glance outside he carefully looked to see who was around and if the coast was clear. Seeing that it was he proceeded back into Murtagh’s workstation area and removed the facing of the differential calibrator on the wall in a corner of his main work room. He’d told him what to do but Fergus stared at the calibrator summoning up enough courage to actually touch it as he’d been instructed to do. Although he was reticent, he really had few options. Trustingly Fergus placed his hand in, but whipped it back out quick smart, when he was shocked with an electrical charge. “Whoa! It's a live current!” He blurted out surprised that Murtagh hadn’t warned him that he would experience an electric shock.  Fergus turned and looked at the calibrator's inner workings hoping there was another way to avoid the pain he’d just felt. However, he knew he needed to place his hand back as Murtagh had said he was to put it inside and keep it there, however, he was reluctant to have a repeat of what had just happened to him. The last thing that he wanted to do was put his hand back inside knowing that to do so would result in a painful electric shock. He stared at the calibrator and wondered about the sense of this experiment just to avoid his fate in the White Room. Meanwhile, his hand seemed to hover just outside the calibrator almost as if his appendage had a mind of its own and had no intention of going back inside. Uncertain thoughts lingered in Fergus’s mind of the validity of this endeavour… “Keep it there? For how long?” However, while he was being reticent, Murtagh’s words suddenly echoed in his head in answer to his questions.” You’ll need to keep your hand in there as long as you can bear it. The longer the better... It's the only way you'll pass the test.”  Fergus took a deep breath, then gritted his teeth and stuck his hand back inside. As the electric force ran through his body, he reached out with his other hand and held on to a nearby railing as the current shocked the hell out of him. Clenching his teeth tightly, he trembled uncontrollably for the pain was unbearable.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Once Murtagh had left the White Room, Madeline contacted Operations in his office via a video link up to discuss what had happened during his questioning. They had already discussed the possibility of Murtagh and Fergus being the source passing Intel to Colum, but Operations had quickly dismissed that notion. He was convinced that they were opportunists not traitors. Nonetheless, she had needed to check this out and now after Murtagh’s interrogation she was of the same opinion. Still waters ran deep with Fitzgibbons but his loyalty to the Section seemed steadfast. Madeline was interested in Operations’ take on proceedings and wanted to know if they were on the same page concerning Murtagh’s mindset. She waited for the linkup to become activated. When it did so, she asked her question. “Dougal? Did you follow the interrogation?” In his office, Operations sat back thoughtfully in his chair pondering what he had just witnessed in the White Room. His image appeared on screen and Madeline heard his reply. “Yes.” “What are your thoughts? I'd appreciate them.”  “What about? Murtagh’s denial? His impending marriage? Or what he said about Colum?”  Madeline heard the growing scepticism in Operations’ voice. “All three of course. I’d be thankful for your feedback and point of view.” He gave her a wry smile. “Do you think Murtagh is telling the truth?” Madeline watched him, her mind already turning over possible scenarios about the answers he’d given in her own mind. “I've studied his file very carefully. Reviewed his evaluations; assessed his psychological profile in great detail in the past.”  “And?”  Smiling, she shook her head, as perplexed as Operations. “I don't know. I can only go on what I saw and heard in the White Room … and I’m sure he is.”  “I agree.” “He denied that Bóinne is the mole. What do you think?” “Could be his hormones have clouded his judgement. But … It’s possible. She does have unlimited access to Med Lab.” “We need to follow that up.” “Does Murtagh know that she will be put into abeyance regardless if she is the mole? She has been earmarked for the Somalia mission.” “No. Besides … nobody asked him to marry someone with a weak performance record.” “How do you think he’ll react if he does?” Ever cold and calculating she replied. “He'll put it behind him, in time.”  “We don't have time Madeline.”  The urgency in Operations voice was evident and it gave her cause to think. Section’s head strategist’s thought processes were churning in how to deal with the situation about Bóinne and Murtagh. “Perhaps we should postpone any talk of her abeyance for a while until we sort out this mess with Colum then.”  “I’ll consider it … but if she’s the mole I won’t hesitate to follow through.” After a moment Madeline offered another solution to their dilemma although it was farfetched. “We could cancel Murtagh too. If Bóinne is the plant surely he would know about it.”  However, Operations quickly dismissed that idea. “I don't want to do that ... He was adamant that she had no involvement.”  Madeline unemotionally voiced another reason … one that would impact on Section. If they indeed acted on her previous suggestion, it could have greater ramifications in the long run. “And if a ... key member … of the Tactical Team dies just after he's been questioned ... it will only complicate things further.”  Operations nodded his head briefly, his expression affirming Madeline's insinuation. “That, too. Mr Lambert would certainly be breathing down our necks wanting to know the reasons why. Murtagh has been here as long as I can remember.” “Colum would take great delight in that happening,” she added in clarification.  “Too true. We can’t let that come about Madeline. We need to find the culprit who is feeding Intel to him A.S.A.P. We also can’t afford for Colum to know we may suspect him of treachery.”  Madeline wondered if the same could be said of Fergus when his turn came to be interrogated. “Perhaps Mr Claudel can shed some light on the matter.” “We have a small window of opportunity while Jamie and Claire are away to get to the bottom of this.” “Let me work on it.”  Operations sighed and nodded his head, just relieved that Madeline would find who was responsible once and for all.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ to be continued FRIDAY 19th JUNE  when we find out how Jamie and Claire are settling in after their long trip.

#Jamieandclairefanfic #jamieandclairecrossover #the lallybroch library #outlander fanfic #covert operations #LFNoutlander

[sablelab]

Covert Operations - Chapter 89

DISCLAIMER: This is a modern AU crossover story with Outlander and La Femme Nikita. LFN and its characters do not belong to me nor do those from Outlander.

SYNOPSIS: Back at Section One the Rising Dragons mission has come to a standstill due to its two main operatives’ non-involvement.  Things are starting to unravel and Operations and Madeline decide to call a truce and ask Jamie to return and they will help him search for Claire. She leaves a clue for him that implicates Karen Yee and he goes in search of her as a starting point.  Meanwhile Jonathon Randall pays Claire another visit but doesn’t get the answers he wants.

Previous chapters can be found at … https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations

THANK YOU for coming along on this ride as Claire faces her foes and Jamie tries to find where she is. I appreciate your patronage and support of my writing and I am glad you are enjoying this story.

  CHAPTER 89

Murtagh Fitzgibbons observed the comings and goings at Section One from his post in munitions. Although operatives went on about their duties like clockwork, something was missing. The halls of Section One appeared austere and even colder without James Fraser and Claire Beauchamp’s presence. The fact that his Sugar had been kidnapped only exacerbated his feelings of melancholy, but as he watched and observed, Murtagh’s eyes suddenly lit up as if struck by a thunderbolt. He knew what it was. It was Claire’s lightness that was missing. He missed seeing her luminous face and he missed their friendly banter whenever she came over to his station. Every time he looked up or turned a corner, Murtagh kept expecting to see her striding purposefully down the hallway coming back from a mission with the target apprehended ... but that hadn’t happened for some time. He really missed his Sugar for she was the ray of sunshine in his day. He missed her laughter, her smile and her calming presence in this world of ruthlessness. Claire was in trouble and Jamie had gone looking for her, but it was the not knowing if she was alive or dead that was eating away at him. The fact that Fergus hadn’t been able to make contact with her or her with them was also very worrying.

How could they find Claire’s location, if they couldn’t track her? She could be anywhere in Hong Kong and had probably been transferred to God knows where because they couldn't discover her whereabouts. 

Although he hadn’t put much faith in God over the years, Murtagh thought it appropriate that he say a few prayers in hope of divine intervention of a miracle. However, even that was of little solace to him. He hadn't realized before how deeply Claire Beauchamp affected everyone at Section One, even Operations and Madeline had seemed a little more short-tempered since they’d known of her kidnapping and Jamie’s request for the fifteen days owing to him. Perhaps they’d realised that they had made the wrong decision, not that Madeline or Operations would ever admit to that. Their pigheadedness would be their downfall one day and now the Rising Dragons’ mission had come to a standstill due to its two main operatives’ non-involvement, and without their participation, things were starting to unravel. 

Would Operations and Madeline call a truce and ask Jamie to return and offer Section’s resources to help him search for Claire? Pigs would fly before either of their leaders would change their minds and reverse their decision as far as Jamie and Claire were concerned, Murtagh thought. If he ever saw that day, he vowed that he would run naked through Section. Shrugging his shoulders, the weapons’ expert looked over towards Tactical to see if Fergus was there. He was. Knowing how worried that his buddy had been since Claire’s disappearance, he decided to mosey on over to see if he had made any inroads in his attempt to contact her or if he’d heard anything from Jamie. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Operations strode through the corridors of Section One and made his way to Madeline’s office. He’d been having second thoughts about his decision where Jamie was concerned and had been weighing up the conversation, he’d had with him in the perch the other day. His persistence to search for Claire had goaded him and he’d forbidden him to pursue her citing that the triad was the target and that Claire was expendable. He realised now how that must have sounded to his Level 5 operative particularly knowing of their bond. There were obvious similarities to her persistence that they retrieve him when Jamie was missing in Russia. However, that was where the similarities ended. Madeline had been sent with Claire to find him, but the retrieval mission was really a hidden agenda to bring in deep cover operative. No doubt Jamie had been reminded of their subterfuge, hence his reaction to the orders he had given him. His reluctance to do anything about Claire’s kidnapping had not been well received. In retrospect, had the tables been turned and Madeline was the one kidnapped, he too would have reacted as Jamie had. Dougal knew that Madeline would be able to be more rational, hence he sought her counsel. However, little did he know but his second in command had gone behind his back and had already asked Fergus to keep her informed on any progress on Claire’s whereabouts. Grappling with the wisdom of his decision Operations continued on through the halls of Section One and as usual entered Madeline’s office with his normal aplomb to see her working on her computer. She looked up to see who it was on hearing footsteps enter. “Ah, Dougal ... Come in ... What are you doing here?” “I want some answers.” “Answers to what?” she asked curiously not being able to make sense of what it was he was after. “Claire Beauchamp's status.” “I thought you had dismissed her kidnapping as a fate accompli and that Jamie was not to go after her?” “Yes, I did say that but in hindsight I feel I may have been a little hasty,” he announced, the words almost choking him as they were uttered.  It was not often that Operations had to eat humble pie and admit that he may have been wrong in his judgement. “Hmm ... yes that may be so, but it’s not the first time you have been a tad irrational in a decision Dougal.” Operations raised an eyebrow at her pointed retort. “Really?” “Yes ... you were reckless, but fortunately I have made contingencies.” “Good. I like your surprises.”

Operations smiled at Madeline’s forward planning ... she always did play the end against the middle. He knew immediately that his second in command had her finger on the pulse. She knew him well and he was right in his decision to seek her input.

“We will need to take care of this soon ... The mission has come to a standstill since Claire’s kidnapping and Jamie going dark to look for her. The Rising Dragons will be able to regroup if we are not proactive.” 

“It seems we have a dilemma then doesn’t it?”  Was her tacit remark. Operations refused to give her question credence and merely asked a question in return. “You obviously are familiar with the most recent situation Madeline ... So, tell me ... where are we with locating Claire then?” She too refused to be irritated by his words and answered concisely, “Fergus has been trying to initiate contact with Claire but he hasn’t had any success as yet.” “And Jamie? Does he have a next move?” “I don't know ... but you of all people know what James Fraser is like.” She paused before continuing, “His level of commitment to Section is extraordinary but Jamie’s commitment to Claire Beauchamp is inimitable. He will leave no stone unturned until he finds her. You’ve seen the lengths he goes to with targets. I don't think he's finished ... not by a long shot ...this is his partner after all.” Operations pondered the wisdom of her words before asking, “Has he tried to communicate with Section at all?” “There’s been none as far as I know. If Jamie doesn’t want to be stopped, he won’t be.” “Then get Fergus on to it immediately. I’m sure he has a way of getting in touch with him.” “Very well Dougal ... I’ll see to it. By the way, have you heard from Colum?” “Indirectly. Oversight is still monitoring this mission closer than I'd like.” “At least it keeps his attention away from other things.” “Yes, but if he gets wind that our two best operatives are missing Madeline, all hell will break loose.” “So far, everything's covered. That's not the problem.” “What is the problem?” “Fergus is working on a location, but there's been no response whatsoever.  Your brother Colum is going to look at anything out of the ordinary as suspicious.” “Then we’ll need to move quickly to ally his inquisitiveness. I'm sure we can shore this up.” “I wish I were as optimistic.” “What do you mean?” “There are too many variables beyond our control.” “That's true. But so far, so good. I’m sure things will go exactly as planned.” “The Rising Dragons members are ruthless; we can’t forget that.” “Yes ... but Section One is more so,” he stated proudly. Acknowledging the wisdom of his statement, Madeline replied. “I’ll have Fergus come to my office and we’ll set the wheels in motion to contact Jamie.” Good ... I knew I could count on you Madeline. I’ll be in the perch should you need me.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* “Thank you for coming, Mr. Claudel,” Madeline stated when Section’s computer whiz stepped through the door into her domain. She watched as he came and stood in front of her desk, then without any preamble asked, “What are your plans?” Fergus raised his eyebrow at her question not quite understanding what Madeline meant. “Plans?” he queried a little perplexed. “Regarding Claire.” “I’m at a quandary as to know what to do. Claire’s comm. unit is down and I haven’t been able to establish contact. Until it becomes operable, then we have little to go on.” “I see.” “Have there been any communiqués with Jamie since he left Section?” “No ... nothing.” “Then I feel we should try to make contact with him.” “Does Operations know about this?” Fergus asked a little wary of her statement given that she’d asked him to go behind his leader’s back. “For the good of the mission, Operations has had a change of heart. He insists that we allow Jamie to use Section’s facilities to assist in Claire’s speedy return.” “But Jamie has gone dark ... it may be impossible to make contact.” “I’m sure you will find a way Mr Claudel,” Madeline implied categorically knowing that if anyone could contact Jamie then Fergus could. “It doesn't look good if we can't keep track of our own people.” “I’ll try my best.” “Good ... Don't worry. Both you and Jamie will be protected. I expect to hear something soon. You may go.” With her dismissal Fergus turned on his heel and left Madeline’s office and immediately went in search of Murtagh. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* The two friends nearly bumped into each other as they each came around the corner into the Common area of Section in search of one another. “Hmm, you scared me.” “I didn't think anything scared you, Murtagh.”

 Fergus adjusted his glasses and they briefly held looks until he broke eye contact. 

Understanding his unspoken meaning the weaponries’ expert replied flippantly for anyone who may be watching, “Get out of here,” then he continued on back to Munitions knowing that the two would get together secretly later on. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Fifteen minutes later, the two friends met up in the hallway away from the prying eyes of the perch and the common area. “So, what’s up amigo ... what's going on?”  Murtagh inquired eager to know why they were meeting in secret. “Operations has had a change of heart about Jamie.” Taken aback by his announcement, he was gob smacked. “You’re joking ... right?” However, by the look on Fergus’ face, Murtagh knew he was deadly serious. “No ... he wants me to contact him.” “But why? ... Operations never changes his mind. ... It’s set in concrete.” Murtagh suddenly had a mild rush of blood to the head as he thought of his earlier musings about a nudie run through Section. Perhaps the day pigs would fly was actually here. I didn't see that coming, he thought. “So, what happens now? Have you had any word from Jamie yet? “No ... It's still too early ... it’s only been two days. But now, I’ll have to try and contact him on a deep channel.” “Whoa, whoa Fergus, not so fast.” “Do you have any better ideas?”  he asked needing some inspiration for what he‘d been asked to do. “No, all I'm saying is that we should put some thought into your next move.” “Well, the way I see it, I don't have any choice. Operations wants me to contact Jamie ASAP.” “He’s gone dark and unless we have something to give him about Claire’s whereabouts, he won’t listen ... Operations knows that. You can’t pull off the impossible.” Murtagh looked at Fergus for a reaction to his statement before asking the obvious question, “Do you have a location for Claire?” “No ... nothing.” “There ... see what I mean?” “So, this is a waste of time?” “No, I didn’t mean that ...” “What do you mean?” “Something's not right. It doesn't make any sense. Operations is cold and ruthless but he's not generous. Does he want to help Jamie for ulterior motives?” “I don’t know ... Look; I've got to go Murtagh.” “Just keep your head down and your mouth shut, you'll be fine until we figure something out or something happens to force our hand.” “Okay ... I’ll think of something to put Operations off for a while.” “Good.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

James Fraser had a conundrum to solve and the quicker he did so the better. His Sassenach had been missing now for nearly 48hours and although she had left him a clue as to who may be involved in her kidnapping, he seemed to be wasting precious time criss-crossing Hong Kong in search of leads for her kidnappers. He wished he could have been more expeditious, for if he had, Claire would now be safe with him. But that was not to be. She'd been transferred from her first place of incarceration to somewhere he didn't know and couldn't discover ... but he would. 

All of his instincts and resolve were telling him that he was not too late to save his Sassenach despite this setback.  He was certain that Karen Yee would provide the crucial lead as to where the triad was holding her, and once again Jamie sped off back to Hong Kong. This time however, he would get the answers he wanted. This time she would have no option other than to tell him where Claire was. He would accept nothing less. He'd never trusted Karen or her boyfriend and now they would face the cold operative that he was. Whether Karen or Andy gave him the information about Claire's whereabouts voluntarily or not ... it was of no consequence to him, but they would tell him what he wanted to know. How they did so was the decision they would need to make. He would have no compunction as to how he dealt with them. They meant nothing to him ... but Claire meant everything and he would do whatever was in his power to find out where she was being held captive.

Without the resources of Section One, his task was made that much harder, but he would prevail ... he would find her and once those who held his Claire incarcerated were found, they would pay the price.  Death would be the only consequence for their brutality.  His suspicions would be verified about Claire's neighbour and she and her kind would suffer the consequences of their actions and deception. The thought of his Sassenach suffering at the hands of this ruthless triad was an anathema to him, but what worried Jamie the most was that he had no control over what happened to her. Therefore, expediency was so crucial. The longer she remained incarcerated the greater the risk to her safety. So far, he was no closer to finding where she was being held captive although he felt buoyed by the clue she had managed to leave for him.

Karen Yee knew something ... she probably knew much more than he even realised ... and she would divulge what she knew to him or die. Karen had no significance to him whatsoever ... she was a target... nothing more, nothing less. Her life for Claire's life was, in his mind, a fair exchange. She would tell him what he needed to know or better still ... take him to where the triad was holding her.  Whatever choice she made was irrelevant. There was no way it would end well for Karen ... her fate was sealed.

Hoping that his Sassenach was still alive was keeping Jamie going ... if she had met her demise, he didn't know what he would do. He hadn't realized how deeply she affected him, how her spirit lifted him up, or how her laughter warmed the recesses of his heart. He ached. Fear and unadulterated trepidation played on his mind.  Jamie was worried for her safety and what might be happening to her at the hands of the triad. Steven Bonnet and William Ransom had already paid with their lives.  He would have no compunction in killing any and all of the bastards who in any way had hurt his Sassenach.  They would all pay with their lives once he had found where the triad was holding her. However, Jamie felt powerless as he was no closer to finding her and he was struggling to remain focused, but that is just what he needed to be. Claire was depending on him. She needed him to find her and he would, with or without Section's help. He'd thought about contacting Fergus but had decided against that. However, if this lead didn't pan out, he would reassess the situation. Despite his orders from Operations, Jamie knew that he could enter and leave Section without detection if he came up cold with a lead. But at the present time he felt confident that he was on the right track and that Karen Yee would provide the answers he was seeking. His sole purpose was focused on finding Claire before the triad had no further use of her. He knew she was strong but ... how long could she endure being tortured? This very thought brought bile to his throat. Jamie swallowed the rancid liquid forcing it back to the depths of his stomach. He refused to acknowledge the muses in his head. He had scarcely slept and he'd eaten only when he could no longer ignore the demands of his body. Jamie knew there was little chance of getting any rest before confronting Karen Yee and Andy Ma ... but that was not a problem unless there was some hold-up to finding the targets. He'd make that decision when and if he needed to. He had functioned for days without respite and would rest only when his Claire was safe and sound. Putting these thoughts to the back of his mind, James Fraser had clear and precise objectives. Nothing would stand in his way of executing them. Failure was not an option. It never was and never would be. He depressed the accelerator a little harder breaking all speed limits in his haste to return to Hong Kong to find Karen Yee and her accomplice. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Jonathon Randall was deep in thought as he watched their prisoner sleep in the darkness. Was this woman really associated with the deaths of senior triad members over the past months or did they have the wrong person? If she was ... she would pay the price, but if not then they would need to cast the net further to find out whoever was responsible. It didn't really matter one way or the other though. The woman was damned. Claire Beauchamp would never leave here alive. There was no way that she could possibly live especially now after all that she had seen and heard. Leaning back in his chair Jonathon reread the reports from MacNab and Robert about both Claire and her companion. Karen had been explicit in her observations of Claire's so called "brother" and had relayed all the information she had on Jamie Fraser. But they were none the wiser as to his role in the turmoil that had befallen the triad other than he was her lover. Ronald on the other hand had been asked to give him something he could use next time. He'd come up trumps and had managed to find some information about the covert Section One. His report specified that Section One was the most clandestine organisation on the planet whose job was to bring down the criminals and terrorists that no one else could get. Jonathon gave a chuckle at their profile and pondered this information. Suddenly it all began to make sense. Had it not been for Steven Bonnet finding Claire's dropped revolver, then they would not have known of her affiliation to Section One. Jonathon had heard of it but this was the first time that the triad had come in contact with anyone associated with Section One. So ... this was the organisation that Claire was a member of. Was her companion also a member? If so, it would explain such a lot, but they would fail in their mission. There was no way that these two people could bring down the might of the Rising Dragons ... the triad was invincible especially here in Hong Kong. Claire Beauchamp was an enigma and this Jamie was more so. James Fraser didn't seem to exist which gave more credence to the fact that he was Section material ... ghosts that moved among people but who were "dead" to the real world. He certainly fitted the mould. There was only one thing Jonathon could think of that would prove if they were both working for Section One and that was to flush out her companion. Karen had alluded to this Jamie's conduct around her and Andy as if the man was always sizing them up but in turn giving nothing away of himself. Jonathon knew that he must mean something to Claire for she was too evasive and guarded when his name was mentioned.

Was he her weakness and vice versa? If so, it was something he could exploit. 

It was time to find out. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

 Randall activated the surveillance speakers and snapped the light switches on in Claire's room. Glaring white light flooded the room and shone on her beleaguered face. Her body jerked as she woke abruptly. Unable to focus because of the brightness, she automatically raised her arm to shield her face from the glare. Claire then gingerly sat up on the bed and lowered her head slightly. Through her closed eyelids she felt the light searing its way through her light deprived eyes. The glare was unbearable and the white-hot rays shone on her face burning the corneas of her eye sockets if she so much as opened them even a fraction, so she kept them tightly shut. "Are the lights too bright for you my dear?" "No ... they're just peachy thanks." "Good ... I see you haven't lost your sense of humour." It took Claire a short while to adjust to the light, but she did. She sat up straighter on the bed and waited for what was to come next. "I told you I would be back," were Randall’s menacing words as he made his way back into the room. "So, I noticed," Claire replied equally disinterested in anything that came out of his mouth. "Now ... Let's talk about James Fraser again ... shall we Claire?" Jonathon Randall remonstrated in a more sinister voice.  

 “You really love him, don’t you?” He persisted with some glee in his voice.

 “Did I love him?”  She asked herself already knowing the answer to her question. “Beyond the urges of the flesh?”

 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

Jonathon Randall continued his tirade as he watched Claire’s face for any indication that his words had touched a nerve. "You do love him. Not just to bed him; I know you’d want that, and he does too, doesn’t he Claire? Men all do. But do you love him?"

 The incarceration of this place had the dark anonymity of the confessional, and a soul on the verge of death had no time for lies. She knew not what lay ahead or how long she would be here until Jamie could rescue her as she knew he would. 

"Yes," her mind and heart muttered silently as she stared unflinchingly at her captor. “Yes! Yes, I love him.”

It was silent in the room for some time, as Jonathon Randall waited for any sign from Claire Beauchamp that his words had touched a nerve.

With a look that would kill, Claire refused to comply to his aspersions.  He could go to Hell for all she cared, for she would never admit to anything concerning James Fraser. Randall could speculate all he wanted about Jamie or who had sent her ... but she would never capitulate.

"You'd be wrong then," was her only reply.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

The interrogation had been fruitless yet again. Their hostage never gave an inch and once more Jonathon had gotten nowhere with his questioning of her. The woman would not break and would not be compromised. His frustration was at its zenith. Hence, due to her headstrong behaviour, Claire Beauchamp left him with only one option. It was time to set his other plan in motion. He called for Ronald MacNab to come and prepare a video transmission. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ to be continued

 I will be posting two chapters next week as the following week is Christmas and I will be busy with family and Christmas preparations.

Therefore, I will post Chapter 90 on Tuesday 17th December … and then …

Chapter 91 on Saturday 21st December.  

I will also post Chapter 92 on Monday 30th December just before New Year.

#Jamieandclairefanfic #jamieandclaireau #jamieandclairecrossover #outlander fanfiction #outlander au #covert operations