#ch: Murtagh

[incorrect-outlander-quotes]

Jamie: Is this about Claire Beauchamp? Murtagh: No. Jamie: Then I've lost interest.

#outlander #incorrect outlander quotes #jamie fraser #claire fraser #ch: claire fraser #ch: jamie fraser #incorrectoutlanderquotes #ch: murtagh fraser #source: seinfeld

[gotham-ruaidh]

I was chatting yesterday with the lovely @lady-o-ren about this post, where I talk about Jamie's violent inner self and how his love for Claire redeems him from that violence. Saves him from sin. Absolves him in the eyes of God.

@lady-o-ren pointed out that Jamie is quite self-aware of his inner violent self - a self that only Claire's love for him (and his love for Claire) keeps in check. He fears this inner self - he knows it is nothing but destructive.

And, Jamie himself says this to Claire several times in the Books - which is something I hadn't remembered! Producing the quotes here:

In Voyager Ch 54 where Jamie sorta talks about it. It's after Claire's been stitched up by Yi Tien Cho and he's telling her about Culloden and Murtagh dying. "I could feel it there, a hot red thing in my chest and belly, and … I gave myself to it,” he ended simply."

In Fiery Cross Ch 17 is where Jamie talks about being in a mob. “I didn’t think you would. Can’t see you as part of a mob.” He kissed her ear, not to reply directly. He could see himself as part of a mob, all too easily. That was what frightened him. He knew much too well the strength of it. And then as the scene goes on he says - “Nothing will harm ye while there is breath in my body, a nighean donn. Nothing.” “I know. "

Thank you, @lady-o-ren, for such astute observations! xo

#outlander #jamie and claire #outlander 07x01 #voyager #the fiery cross

[flyinghome-againstthewind]

Beside the Seaside: Ch 7

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Jamie might have called Murtagh in a desperate panic when he asked him to locate Murtagh’s cousin, Mrs. Fitz, and bring her to the inn, but he had done so knowing Murtagh was equal to the task. Still, when they arrived at The Fairy Hill’s doorstep in just a matter of days, Jamie couldn’t say he wasn’t startled by the haste at which Murtagh had brought her there.

“Mrs. Fitz!” he hailed in greeting, feeling his heart lift unexpectedly at the sight of the older woman’s beaming face. It had been nearly eight years since he’d seen her, but it felt like memories of another lifetime when they had both been at Leoch. “Welcome!”

“Och, Jamie lad, it’s good to see ye!”

He came around the front desk to embrace her and felt his throat swell when she uttered joyously, “You haven’t changed a bit.” He knew he had changed from the nineteen-year-old lad that she had known working at his uncle’s hotel. He was a father, for one, and… well, as much as he’d wished it hadn’t, the war had left him permanently marked in more ways than one.

“It’s good to see ye, Mrs. Fitz. Thank you for coming.” He met his godfather’s gaze over the woman’s shoulder, and while Murtagh did not look particularly pleased at the moment, the man had still shown up when Jamie had called. He had always counted on that with Murtagh.

“And who’s this wee yin?”

Jamie looked back to see Faith peering curiously at the three of them. He smiled and held out a hand to her, beckoning. “This is my wee Faith.” His hand rested lightly on her head once she was near. “Come say hello to our new cook, Mrs. Fitzgibbons. She’s an old friend of mine.”

“Ye can call me Mrs. Fitz — or Grannie Fitz if it suits ye.”

Jamie watched any hesitancy in his daughter melt at that. For all that she was a puir motherless thing, she had a habit of collecting parental figures, and he could practically see the moment she decided she would keep Mrs. Fitz held in her heart. “D’ye want to see the kitchen?” Faith asked her.

“Faith, I’m sure Mrs. Fitz wants to get settled first—”

“I can get settled after I see the kitchen,” Mrs. Fitz insisted, taking Faith’s hand in her own. “I’ll need to know what I’m working with, after all.”

He watched Faith lead the woman past the stairs to the doors they had always kept closed to the guests — but wouldn’t need to for much longer. The kitchen was modest, he knew, but he didn’t doubt Mrs. Fitz would be able to make it work, and there was a dining area for the guests, with small round tables and chairs. He’d already seen Mrs. Fitz in charge of a kitchen before, and he’d promised her the freedom to run this one as she saw fit.

Murtagh’s hand clapped his shoulder, snapping him out of his reverie. “Are ye gonna tell me why I had to race here wi’ Mrs. Fitz because yer business depended on it?” his godfather asked, parroting Jamie’s own words from their telephone call back at him. Murtagh’s arm swept out in front of him, gesturing to the space around them. “The place doesnae seem to be on the verge of collapse.”

Jamie let out a measured breath, and patted Murtagh’s upper arm. “Thank ye for bringing Mrs. Fitz,” he said, ignoring that last comment. “I was having a devil of a time trying to sort out where she went and which grandchild she had gone to visit.”

“She was wi’ Laoghaire in Inverness,” Murtagh answered baldly and, seeing Jamie’s momentary puzzlement, added, “the blonde wee lassie ye met at Leoch.”

“Oh aye,” Jamie murmured, remembering vaguely the young girl who helped Mrs. Fitz in the kitchen and sometimes worked as a maid at the hotel as well. “She won’t still be a wee lassie now though, I suppose.”

“That girl will be a lassie until she's fifty,” Murtagh muttered dryly. “Now are ye going to tell me why I rushed the woman here, or do I have to beat it out of ye.”

Jamie arched one brow at that. Murtagh was scrappy in a fight, to be sure, but Jamie had the stronger build. But Murtagh had known him since he was wee and was immune to any of the natural intimidation that came with Jamie’s size. “The inn is doing well enough, I suppose, but I’m losing business every day when my own guests cannae even eat here.”

Murtagh grunted at that, but still eyed Jamie a little too keenly. “I’ll stay for a bit. Just a few days. Ye owe me that at least.”

Perhaps he did, and there was a chance Murtagh truly needed the respite, but Jamie suspected the time would be used to keep an eye on him. None of his family had come to stay since he and Faith had moved here, but Jamie hadn’t exactly extended an invitation either.

“Aye, alright, I have an extra bed in the spare room next to Faith’s. It’s all yours.”

  ----------

  Claire had been hoping to find Jamie alone when she descended the stairs, but she instead found him behind the front desk with a tall and lean dour-faced man.

“Sassenach,” he called to her before she had much of a chance to decide if she should change course or not. He was grinning broadly and she felt the pull to go to him, to bask in that light for a bit. “This is my godfather, Murtagh. Murtagh, this is Claire.”

Claire extended her hand to the man, wondering if Jamie realized he hadn’t said anything further as to who she was — no this is Claire, one of my guests here, or this is Claire, she stays on the third floor and occasionally patches me up. Just Claire, as if she needed no further introduction.

Murtagh shook her hand, eyeing her acutely. “Wee Faith had a lot to say about ye when she was at Lallybroch.”

And apparently, she hadn’t needed any further introduction. That revelation not only startled Claire, but Jamie as well, she noticed. “Oh,” she said, “All good things, I hope?”

“Oh aye,” Murtagh said immediately, but something in his tone seemed to indicate a layer of… was it curiosity? Claire glossed a smile over her face and looked at Jamie, unsure how to proceed from there.

“Go and check on Mrs. Fitz, will ye? See if she needs anything?”

Murtagh’s expression changed to something even more surly, realizing he was being dismissed. “Just to remind ye, in case ye’ve fallen on yer heid lately, I’m no’ yer errand boy,” he said, but still turned and went out of the room.

Claire turned wide eyes to Jamie.

“Aye, that’s just Murtagh for ye. A wee bit rough around the edges, but more loyal than anyone I’ve ever known.”

“He, uh—” she stopped herself from saying that the man seemed lovely, because in the few moments that she’d known him, she couldn’t say that was exactly true, but she could tell, even with just a glimpse of it, that Murtagh was protective of Jamie, and that was certainly a credit to him. “Is he staying?” she asked instead.

“Aye, for a few days.” Jamie grinned then and leaned forward against the counter, inching closer to her. “He brought my cook here — Mrs. Fitz. I cannae wait for ye to meet her.”

“Oh, Jamie, that’s wonderful!”

“Faith is giving her the tour just now, we can go and introduce ye now, if ye’d like.”

“Yes, but first,” she said, suddenly feeling a breathless flutter in her chest to seize the moment while it was just the two of them. “I’d like to extend our stay here. That is, if you still have room,” she added quickly, and hoped her nervousness that he might already be booked didn’t show as plainly as she felt it.

“Aye, I do have room,” Jamie said immediately, without so much as a glance at his booking calendar, though he did fumble for it after giving his answer. “For how long?”

“For three more weeks.” It was impossible to miss the unrestrained smile that those words brought to Jamie, and Claire felt her heart flutter again in her chest. “If you can bear the sight of us for that much longer,” she teased. “It’s been… so good for Fergus here. I was actually thinking—”

“Miss Claire!” Faith’s voice rang out from the other side of the room, and Claire turned to see the girl followed by Murtagh and the woman she supposed was Mrs. Fitz. Jamie came around the desk to join them.

“This is Claire Beauchamp, she’s staying here for a few more weeks wi’ her son Fergus.” Jamie’s smile was rapturous as he said this, never taking his gaze from her face even as he spoke to Mrs. Fitz. “So I’m sure you’ll get to see them plenty.”

   ----------

The days of their summer in Nairn began to change shape by inches, first with the arrival of Mrs. Fitz and the opening of the kitchen at Fairy Hill. Unsurprisingly, Fergus was quickly charmed by the inn’s grandmotherly cook almost as much as he was by her cooking. And though she didn’t speak a word of French, Claire watched with her heart in her throat as Mrs. Fitz fussed over the two of them and was never put off by Fergus’s silence.

It was during this time that Fergus had decided he wanted to return to the beach. Claire had begun inviting Faith to join them in their afternoon excursions, at first to be a playfellow for Fergus, and then because something had begun to resonate with Claire where young Faith was concerned; there was no doubt that Jamie loved the child with everything he had, but there was still a hunger — a longing — in that small girl that Claire knew all too well.

So on a bright day in late June, Claire took both children to the beach. Fergus sighed and squirmed while Claire covered him in sun lotion, but he didn’t slip out of her grasp until she pressed a kiss to his greasy forehead in silent permission to go. “You too, Faith,” she called as both children moved toward the water. When the girl looked back at her, brows drawn together in confusion, Claire crooked a finger at her.

“My da never puts that stuff on me,” Faith said bluntly, even as she flopped down onto the blanket in front of Claire and sat perfectly still.

“Most people don’t put it on, unfortunately,” Claire sighed. “But you are even more fair-skinned than Fergus, and I don’t want you to burn.” She carefully rubbed in the lotion over the smattering of freckles along Faith’s nose and cheeks. Where Fergus behaved as though Claire was torturing him, Faith seemed to relish the attention and care. Poor love-starved little thing, Claire thought, with no ire directed towards Jamie. She knew, after all. She’d had Uncle Lamb and loved him dearly, but there was nothing to be done to fix the yawning emptiness where one or both parents had been. Driven by sudden impulse when she was finished, Claire took the girl’s face in her hands and kissed her forehead. “Now go and play.”

  ----------

“You know that you could speak English here, if you wanted to… don’t you?” She said this in French when Fergus had collapsed onto the blanket in the shade of a beach umbrella. Claire had watched him and Faith run ragged in the water and then work side-by-side on a sandcastle, and it was during that latter activity that the language barrier between the two had indeed turned into a barrier, with Fergus giving instructions in French to a blank-faced Faith and none of the work truly being done together.

Claire reached over and brushed Fergus’s curls back from his face. Faith was nearby, still working steadily on a moat around their castle, but even if she heard them, there was a sense of privacy in speaking in French. “Frank was wrong for what he said to you. And none of our friends here would mock you for having an accent or saying the wrong words. You know that, don’t you?”

“I do know, Maman.” His voice was soft and unconvincing.

“I am happy to speak with you in whatever language you prefer, but even I know my French is atrocious.” That got a smile out of Fergus — yes, she did know her pronunciations were that terrible. “But you’ve never belittled me for it, and you still know what I’m saying to you just the same. And I don’t want you to… to not have certain friendships in your life because of something that a very selfish person said to you.”

Fergus’s gaze turned contemplative, and he tilted his face up, staring at the underside of the umbrella, fingers laced together over his bare stomach. She brushed his cheek with the backs of her fingers and struggled to tamp down on the sudden swell of guilt that still had a foothold in her.

   ----------

“—Ye could hire more workers here is all I’m saying. The place seems to be doing just fine.”

Claire looked up from her breakfast as Jamie entered the dining room, Murtagh hot on his heels. Fergus had scarfed his food down already and gone out to the front with Faith and her chalk — some things didn’t require the ability to communicate, and the children were finding those spaces all on their own, in a way that made Claire’s tender heart ache to see.

“I don’t recall sharing the inn’s finances with ye,” Jamie shot back.

“I just mean that ye never take a moment’s rest for yerself, and ye dinnae need to be doing it all by yerself. I suspect ye can afford at least another staff person.”

“I have another staff person already — Hugh Monroe.”

Murtagh grunted at that, though what the noise was supposed to imply, Claire wasn’t sure. She dropped her gaze to her meal, unable to give them the privacy of not eavesdropping while they were conversing right in front of her, but the least she could do was make it seem like she wasn’t trying to listen in. “And what if ye wanted to take a day off every now and then, huh? Ye could go home and see yer family then.”

It was Jamie’s turn for a Scottish noise of displeasure, though Claire had far less trouble interpreting his frustration from that. “I’m no’ going to take time away from the inn in the middle of my busy season. Also, I dinnae recall ye being this much of a mother hen with either Willie or Rob,” Jamie said pointedly.

“Aye well I wasnae their godfather, was I? Just yours. Lot o’ good having Colum and Dougal for their godfathers did them, though, god rest their souls.” Claire couldn’t help looking up at that, and caught Murtagh crossing himself.

Jamie was stone-faced, and turned for the kitchen, disappearing through the swinging door that separated it from the dining area.

“Who are Willie and Rob?” she asked, and found Murtagh’s surprised gaze on her. She was rather sure her own surprise reflected back at him, that she had even asked the question out loud.

“He doesn’t talk about them?”

She shook her head.

Murtagh considered that with a quiet sigh. “His brothers. Willie was the oldest, then their sister Janet, then Jamie, and wee Rob was the youngest.” She had a suspicion, from seeing Jamie, that “Wee Rob” was more of an affectionate family name for the youngest, for surely any brother of Jamie couldn’t be small in stature.

“That’s a big family,” she murmured, a little dazed by the thought. It was only ever just her growing up.

“Aye,” Murtagh sighed, his expression darkening. “Then the three o’ them went to war, and only Jamie came back. Now it’s just him and Jenny.”

She sat with that news, feeling a cold damp fist around her heart. After all he went through at the hands of Jack Randall, and losing his entire unit, and then… his brothers, too. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because he’s no’ doing well, and I ken ye’re the only other person besides me who sees that.” Murtagh cleared his throat and straightened. “I’m his godfather, so I’ll always have his back, but he pushed everyone away when he came home, except for Faith. He willnae let me help him. But I think…” the older man raised one eyebrow, “he might let you.”

“And… you trust me to help him? You don’t even really know me.”

“Trust is a bit of a stretch, aye, but it’s plain on yer face that ye want to help him. So.”

Claire felt her face flush at those words, at being so thoroughly seen by someone who’d only been here a few days. “Jamie has been incredibly kind to me and my son. He’s… he’s been a very good friend.”

Murtagh grunted at that, though she couldn’t for the life of her sort out what he meant by that, either. “So, that’s why I told ye. And I have to go, he doesn’t want me hanging about much longer, but I trust… ye’ll keep an eye on him for me, aye?”

“Of course,” she found herself saying. Perhaps more startling to her was the realization that she had meant it.

He studied her intently for a moment and, finding something there in her face that reassured him, he nodded once and followed Jamie through the swinging door.

Murtagh left the next day, returning to Lallybroch, but their brief conversation in the dining room stayed with Claire long after the man had gone.

  ----------

“Claire!”

Someone pounded on her door, making her heart jump to her throat. She had just been to Fergus’s room to tuck him in for the night and was halfway out of her blouse, which she quickly began to shrug back into, trying to button it as fast as she could.

“Claire!”

More pounding.

It was Jamie’s urgent voice, and she swore under her breath as her fingers fumbled with the last two buttons. “Yes, I’m coming! I’m—”

She yanked open the door and took in the sight of Jamie looking more unraveled than she’d ever seen him before.

“Faith is sick. Please—She’s—she has a fever. Please come.”

She turned for her medical kit without a word, and by the time she returned to the threshold, Fergus stood in the doorway of his own room, peeking out in mild concern.

“Go back to bed. Stay in your room,” she told him, and followed a panic-stricken Jamie down the stairs.

#outlander #jamie x claire #fergus fraser #faith fraser #outlander fic #beside the seaside #my fic

[tonhalszendvics]

Hey hello, it's not me again poking around the Inheritance Cycle's timeline.

The question: How old is Murtagh?

In book 1 we have a lot of reference to past events.

Eragon found Saphira's egg, and if I am not mistaken, she hatched eighteen days later. (see Ch. Dragon Tales, the hatching is in Fate's Gift) When the ra'zac came, Sloan said Eragon tried to sell the egg circa three months ago, which means she was 2,5-3 months old when Garrow died and they fled. (Ch. Strangers in Carvahall)

Murtagh in book 4 said Tornac and Garrow died around the same time. (Ch. Small rebellions) (Side note: according to Inheriwiki, this was still 7999. In Murtagh (2023) Ch. A Question of Faith placed this event to the end of winter. New Year must be in the spring in Alagaësia.)

Eragon turned sixteen on the way from Dras-Leona to Gil'ead. (Book 1, Capture at Gil’ead) During their fist night in Farthen Dûr, Murtagh said he had a dinner with the king on his last birthday, on the day he turned eighteen. (Ch Hunting for Answers) In the same chapter, it is also stated that he was three when he got his scar, and Selena vanished for months (Eragon in Ch Dragon Tales said she spent five months in Carvahall, and for that I'm angry forever, but let's not go there).

The answer: Murtagh was already at least five month past his third birthday when Eragon was born. Which means, he must have had his nineteenth birthday at the latest around the time the story started, and when he was still very much in Urû'baen.

Possible explanations:

He was talking about birthday celebrations and he didn't have any after he reached the age of majority.

His mind glitched and he forgot how old is he. (Like I do from time to time.)

Dear author's mind glitched. (It happens. No hard feelings.)

Edit: Sad Tonhal is sad. Someone already made a timeline, which makes some things clear. Others... not so much. LINK

#inheritance cycle #murtagh #eragon #saphira #christopher paolini #world of eragon #i might have a problem #yeah well why not go and write half an essay on tumblr instead of working #i hate in-text citation so much #tonhal pofázik

[dragon-fics]

SR: Ch. 5 Emotions

Chapter summary: Confronted by the leaders and fellow Riders, Alys is forced to abandon her rationality and speak her mind.

Prologue, Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4

Alys looked among the lead faces and strode forwards with a false sense of confidence. Nasuada stepped towards her, giving Alys a trusting but questioning look. The Dragon Riders stared past her, and Shruikan gave them a good reason to be fearful. His tail lashed through the air, and he lifted his lip in a threatening snarl to ensure they gave him enough space.

Shruikan let out a growl, spotting familiar faces and dragons. Alys put her hand on his snout behind her. “Easy, Shruikan.” He fell silent, but she could still see his tail lashing.

Alys glanced at Nasuada. she called her over with a silent gesture of her hand. Alys begrudgingly stepped away from Shruikan and looked at Eragon. “Can you get them to stand down?” She gestured to the other Riders.

“Explain yourself first! Who is this dragon?” He gestured frantically to Shruikan. “And why did you bring it her?!”

She frowned. “You gave me a mission! You sent me to the Eldunarya, and they sent me to him.” She pointed at Shruikan. “And right now, he’s the only one willing to help me get to Ugauc in time!” She felt Nasuada touch her shoulder, and she gave her a soft look. She forced herself to draw in a breath and calm down. “I’m only here for my things. Then I’ll be gone. I bring no threat,” she said firmly.

“Gone where?” This time, it was Murtagh who spoke.

Alys looked at him. “Ellesméra.” The dragons erupted in a synchronised growl, and she snapped her head around to see what was wrong. Shruikan stepped closer to her, ignoring their sounds of protest. She gently extended an outstretched hand to tell him to ‘stay’.

“You can’t go alone,” Eragon interjected. Alys scowled and looked at him. She thought he glanced down as he came up with an excuse. “Not without a saddle. And we don’t have one big enough for… him.” He looked at Shruikan.

Alys wondered whether he knew that was Shruikan—or if any of them knew. He glanced at Saphira a lot, communicating with her—she presumed. Alys sighed softly. “Fine. Someone will just have to come along.” She felt Shruikan stare at Eragon from behind her.

The leaders looked at each other, and Alys waited impatiently. The three Dragon Riders glanced between themselves, and Alys tried to soften her posture for Nasuada. She needed her cousin on her side.

Her cousin got closer to her, leaving the Riders to their silent discussion. “You earned his trust.” She smiled and looked at Shruikan.

Alys nodded and followed her gaze. “There was effort on both parts.”

“I knew your compassion would guide you.” Nasuada took Alys’ hand. “But you need to think, properly think. Take some deep breaths.”

Alys tightened her jaw. “Have you not heard a single thing I said?” she hissed and pulled her hand away. “My dragon is dying. I can’t wait any longer. The time for thinking is gone. I have to be there for him. I thought you, of all people, would be on my side.” She looked away.

Nasuada looked hurt but forced it down. “All I’m asking is that you take a moment to think before running off with the dragon that had a huge role in the War and damaged a chunk of Du Weldenvarden. You’re allowed to be hurt and grieving, but you can’t act rash or the whole world may turn against you.”

Alys glanced at her. “It seems like the whole world already has. So what’s the harm of ensuring it?” She heard a soft, sad rumble from Shruikan, but her mind was too closed off to allow him to speak to her.

Her cousin stared at her for a moment. “What’s happened to you, Alys? This isn’t you.”

She scowled, a hole growing in her chest as rage and sorrow filled her. “You want to know what happened? My dragon has been suffering for weeks! The people taking care of him won’t let me near him! Every night I hear and feel him suffer and only now has anyone been willing to help me get to him!” It wasn’t until she fell silent she realised how loud it had come out, that everyone in the courtyard, and probably the castle, had heard her. All eyes were on her, dragon, elf, and human. It was also then that she felt the warm tears trickling down her cheeks, and she turned away from Nasuada, hiding it. “Part of me is dying.” Her voice was hoarse and quiet, but firm. “My literal soulmate is dying, and I won’t hide it and pretend anymore. He won’t suffer anymore; I just need to get to him. Or I’ll go insane.”

Alys felt some sympathetic tendrils graze her mind, and she locked herself away. “So, is anyone willing to help me?” Her words came out rather bitterly, but she wouldn’t apologise for it.

“Yes.” Eragon said in a low voice. “We’ll accompany you to Ellesméra.”

Alys nodded. She hadn’t depended on their support but figured getting an agreement was better and looked at Shruikan. “I’ll be back soon.” She strode past the leaders, dragons, Riders and soldiers, quickly passing through the large doors of the keep and up the helix stairs. She packed her bags, taking all her notebooks and some of Galbatorix’s, in case she’d missed something—or needed to distract herself and hide in her not-so-little project.

I think you handled it very well. Shruikan said when she returned to his side.

“Hmm. I don’t know,” she said softly, calmer but not hurting any less. Alys glanced around at the courtyard. Most of the Riders and their dragons remained, but lingered by the walls, while the rest glided above and around the castle. She noticed how Shruikan watched them, curious and in awe from what she could make.

It’s good to release your emotions. He hummed.

Alys shook her head. “Yes but, it was so… loud. I didn’t know I had that in me. I should’ve said it better. Handled it better. I don’t know what happened.” She gently caressed his face. “Maybe the pressure got to me. And the hurt and rage and frustration and it came out like… that.” She sighed, exasperated.

Shruikan pressed his head against her hand. It’s better to let it out. That’s what you told me. They needed to know. And if they weren’t going to help, I’d deal with them. He bared his fangs in false intimidation.

Dragons and Riders looked at them warily, lowering their stance and reaching for weapons.

Alys sighed. “Please try to tone down on the intimidation. I know you mean well, but they don’t yet. So please—” she held his muzzle in both hands, “—try to be as friendly as you can. You’re a good dragon, Shruikan, and I trust you. The others just don’t know you yet.”

Shruikan inclined his head and hummed again. I’ll try for you, Alys.

#inheritance cycle #inheritance cycle fanfic #shruikan's rider #shruikan #alys emmasdaughter #sr #fanfiction

[otheroutlandertales]

The next part of the series based on the Audrey Niffenegger book The Time Traveler’s Wife. Part 1

Author’s note: Claire is 48 in this part, and in Paris with Jamie while they look for Young Ian.

The Time Traveler’s Family: Part 2

by @abbydebeaupreposts​

Claire came to, her mind sifting through the fog. She could feel boots that were pinching her toes, the heavy covering of a thick skirt on her legs. She experimentally rubbed one knee against the other, noting the absence of the telltale slide of nylon-on-nylon. Taking a deep breath, she felt the push of her stays against her ribs and that at least confirmed she was somewhere in an earlier time.

The melodious peel of church bells vibrated through her chest and with a sudden snap, Claire realized where she was: L’Hôpital des Anges. She mentally chided herself. She hadn’t gone anywhere, she’d only fainted!

It shouldn’t have been hot enough to cause dehydration, but she had walked a good portion of Paris this morning and hadn’t thought to bring any water. On top of that, she’d been far too nervous to eat breakfast this morning.

She hadn’t lied to Jamie . . . exactly . . . she just hadn’t told him that she was also planning on coming here. Provisioning the ship for their journey required them to head out separately in search of supplies and arranging for their safe delivery to the wharf. They were both aware that each day they delayed lessened their chances of catching up to the scoundrels who’d kidnapped Young Ian.

One look at his stressed face when they’d arisen had decided the issue. Claire could not, simply could not utter the name of their daughter knowing how frantic Jamie was to find his nephew. Faith had been gone twenty and more years, but they had the hope of saving Ian. Jamie needed the freedom to direct  his energies on that, not dwell on things long since lost.

Claire’s glass face might have given her away, or perhaps that excellent nose of his might have sniffed out the flowers - she still couldn't believe her luck in finding any this late in the year - that she’d buried under the linen lining of her market basket, but he’d been too preoccupied with organizing his own day to pay too much attention to hers.

Thinking of the flowers, Claire sat up and cast her eyes around for her basket, not finding it, she slowly rose and walked a few paces in a circle. Something in her field of vision was off, her eyes sensing the change before she had time to really process it. Was her mind playing tricks on her? Faith’s stone no longer lay at her feet. A strong gust of wind whipped a loose strand of hair across her face and she realized how warm it was, whenever she was, it definitely wasn’t November.

A sharp jolt of panic sent her stomach plummeting. She willed her breathing to steady, counting the in-and-out rhythm. As she did so, she calmed herself by concentrating on the noises around her. The modern world sounded completely different than the time before.

Claire was reassured by the cadence of carriage wheels on the stone street just the other side of the high enclosure surrounding the cemetery, the clomp of horse hooves, dog barks and goat bleats. At last she was able to think logically. Claire forced herself to acknowledge the truth. Faith's grave was missing because their daughter either hadn't come to be or, more likely, hadn't . . . wasn't . . . yet gone. Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!

When Jamie suggested coming to Paris in all due haste and seeking help from Jared, Claire had readily agreed, feeling the same sense of urgency to get here as soon as possible.  If anyone had the information they needed and the connections to secure a ship to give chase, it would be Jamie's cousin.  Claire hadn't even stopped to consider the implications of being back on French soil.

Oh God! Claire was sure she didn't have the strength to relive those long ago days and nights full of intrigue, heartbreak and betrayal. It had taken months, if not years, for she and Jamie to both put the past behind them. And they had. They rarely spoke of her, then. And even now, only in the briefest of mentions.

“Red hair like her sister? Like Faith?” Jamie had asked upon seeing Bree’s baby pictures.

Overcome at hearing that name spoken out loud by this man, Claire could only nod, watching as he turned each photo over in his hands, skimming a shaky finger over each line and curve of their daughter’s changing face. When the first one in color leapt from the bundle, he made a low moan in the back of his throat. The one that he used when his feelings - of love, of laughter, of happiness - had robbed him of the power of speech.

Claire had waited more than 7,000 days to hear that sound again and her whole body numbed with the impact. She hadn’t noticed in the busy buzzing of school and work and keeping house, but the truth was it had been years since she felt such a connection to another person. She and Frank never found it again after she returned, that unity of person, but she had it for a brief fleeting time when Brianna was very young, nursing at her breast as they rocked together in the hushed serenity of a 3 AM feeding. That sacred fusion of babe and parent that bonds mother to child in those early days. It was not the same, of course, what she felt for him and what she felt for their daughter, but the way such a deep connection dissolved the individual boundary of self, it was something like it.  

Intimacy. A simple word of staggering complexity. Yet the knowledge of him, of herself, of them filled her senses. The solid edge of his rigid thigh pressed against hers, the sharp unfamiliar scent of him, the savory flavor of his tongue lingering on her lips, the dance of firelight from the hearth against the faded red of his hair and the rush of her heart as it glued itself back together again.

Claire held still, spellbound, as an expression of reverence played across his features. She gently touched his hand and his palm went slack transferring the precious images of Bree into hers and fixing her with a burning look of urgency. He was incapable of doing much else. He kept his head cast downward as Claire told her story after story, drinking in the variety of Brianna’s expressions as she boldly stared out at the world with her father’s eyes . . . the same shape exactly as those of her sister.

Even now, weeks after, Claire had yet to speak of it, to tell Jamie how it felt sitting beside him that day . . . the rightness of feeling them and their daughters together even if only for one moment. “Oh that is quite enough of that, Beauchamp!” she reminded herself. Whether she was in the Paris of 1766 or 1744 made no difference. She knew very well there was nothing she could do to change what happened and torturing herself in the meantime only made it a thousand times worse. Faith would always be a wishful dream, something too precious to become real.

Claire swallowed hard, took a couple of deep breaths and reminded herself that the most important thing she needed to do now was get back to Jamie in his own time. With that goal uppermost in her mind, she was able to leave the cemetery and make her way as unobtrusively as possible through the twisting, turning corridors of L’Hôpital which she navigated by muscle memory.

She had learned over many years of such unexpected travel that one of the most important ways to fit in, even if you landed in the wrong century,  was walking confidently and boldly. The destination wasn’t important - as long as you looked like you belonged, you did.  

Claire reached the great hall, sighing when she didn’t see any sign of Mother Hildegard or Sister Agnes. The front entrance beckoned, the sun was shining on the threshold. But just as she neared, Bouton’s happy yip of greeting stopped her cold and she hesitated, despite knowing better. The soft pitter patter of little nails clicking against the stone approached in double time. Her heart gave a little squeeze and she knew it was her Bouton. That fuzzy, furry face she would know anywhere. She thought about trying to ignore him, but knew from experience that being denied would only result in more insistent barking.

She dropped to her haunches at once and waited for him to roll, then enthusiastically rubbed his belly. The dog abruptly jumped back to all fours a moment before her own ears picked up the sound of boot heels coming down the far stairs. Her friend cocked his ear and tilted his head side to side, watching to see what she would do.

“Sorry, Bouton, I can’t stay. Take good care, I will see you soon.” Claire rose and brushed off her hands, she was across the threshold when something brushed past her. Bouton got in front of her and dropped something at her feet, giving a bark of pride. She bent to retrieve it. A fairly decent hat with which to cover her hair. She smiled at him, feeling warm all over.

“Thank you, mes amis, I couldn’t have asked for a better old chum to run into today,” she told him as she carefully inspected the cloth, and, finding nothing chancy or moving on it, fixed it securely to her head and caught her reflection as she passed by a window. She sighed in relief, seeing how well that one small touch helped her blend in better.

Claire kept walking past the hospital, trying to figure out whether she could use any of the currency quietly clinking in the deep pocket of her skirt. Better not risk it, she decided, taking herself to task for not paying any attention to the coin when Jamie handed it to her. She had no idea if the year was customarily stamped on the money or not and couldn’t very stop and inspect it in public. Besides, she’d already spent a good deal of it purchasing supplies and sending them to the ship before setting out to L’Hôpital. Claire was always conscious of the fact that a solitary woman travelling unescorted in such times would naturally attract attention. She couldn’t pretend to be shopping, not without coin to spend, there were no lending libraries that admitted women patrons . . . Look busy! she reminded herself. Right, but how?

Claire didn’t want to head in the direction of Jared’s home. It was miles away, but she’d inevitably cross to the little district where the apothecary was situated and she might give in to the temptation to visit Master Raymond. He was the one person in Paris, aside from Bouton, who might not be shocked to see her - and her graying hair and the crows feet wrinkling her eyes.  Yet, she was hesitant, remembering his sleight of hand in the star chamber. Was he really her friend? She wasn’t sure and that lack of trust weighed heavily in her mind. Instead, she turned south and focused on letting her thoughts roam freely, almost forcing herself to think about not thinking about the Paris of her youth.

Awareness settled over her as her feet struck manicured grass and her head came up. She was in the park near Jared’s warehouse. She had only strolled along its delightful paths a few times, once with Louise and Mary and a couple of times with Murtagh. Yes, over to the right were the huge blooming shrubs he had delighted in showing her. Claire made her way over toward the riot of pinks and yellows she saw in the distance, nodding and bobbing the occasional murmured greeting as she went. If her out of style clothing was noticed, no one stared, nor said a word.  

She came to a small bench Murtagh showed her all those years ago tucked under the swaying branches of a willow tree and sat down in relief. Her boots were comfortable but she’d walked a great distance. She was thirsty but put that out of her mind, having no way to remedy the need. She closed her eyes and breathed the crisp, clean garden air. The sound of nature surrounded her and peace descended.

Claire must have drifted off for the next she knew the quiet had been broken by the zing of rapiers clashing and the echoing grunts of effort. Two men engaged in some mock battle. In Brianna’s time they’d called it the sport of fencing, but here, in this time, it was practical training. She couldn’t parse out the words themselves but instantly caught the rhythm of the speech. Gaelic, she was sure of it. Claire shot to her feet in blind panic looking around wildly and realized suddenly that the way the branches fell sheltered her completely from the direction of the swordplay.

She couldn't help moving to the edge of the shelter of protection and peeking between the curtain of swaying branches and leaves. An enormous sigh of longing escaped her lips as she caught sight the back of Jamie’s broad back, red hair glinting in the sunlight as he thrust downward. His broadsword clashing with an almighty clang as it struck the one Murtagh held firm using both his hands. Murtagh pulled both arms upwards, causing Jamie to jump back. A good thing too, or his head would  now be laying on the grass beside his feet.

“Fight it that's it, focus . . . Concentrate, lad, no . . . hold on!” Murtagh  encouraged. Their arms were rigid, weapons braced against one another in what looked clear to be a stalemate but Jamie’s arms were shaking badly. Her eyes stayed on his left hand, wrapped in the special compression brace she had fashioned together and which Jamie had faithfully worn everyday since they had left the Abbey.

“Christ, man, I canna do it,” Jamie responded as sweat broke out along his forehead. Claire watched as his knees buckled and he fought to remain engaged in the fight.

“Ye ken how to get out of this, lad, so do it,” Murtagh reminded him. Jamie gave a mighty heave and twisted his body forcing the steel to disengage and readjusting his stance.  The motions of thrust and parry went on for a few minutes more, but Jamie's body remained with its back turned to her.

Suddenly the two men laughed, patted one another on the back and Jamie threw down his weapon, reaching for a bottle of ale resting in the grass at his feet.  She watched, quite startled, as Murtagh shouted then appeared to take a run at the crowd of onlookers that had stopped to gawk at their games. Claire ducked back into the shadows, fearing detection. She didn’t dare move and kept her eyes glued on Murtagh, willing him to stay away from her hiding spot. She held her breath as she watched him retreat back to the hillside to rejoin Jamie. As Murtagh knelt down, Claire caught her first direct view of Jamie’s face and gasped, the sound echoing loudly in the cocoon of her shelter.

He looked good - Jesus-H.-Make-Mine-A-Double-Christ! - better than good. He thrummed with the vitality and self-confidence of a man in his prime. His eyes had lost that haunted aspect that had marked their time in the Abbey and sparkled with amusement at something Murtagh said. His body was sound. She noted that his arm was still tucked up tight to his chest, the fingers splayed and unbending, but that was the only outward sign of his ordeal. Then he smiled and she forgot how to breathe.

Over the years, Claire had forgotten that for all that Paris had been rife with sorrow it had also been the place of Jamie’s rebirth, his healing and in many ways the place of his making. Observing him now, she could see what she’d not noticed, then.

Gone was that impulsive, young man she’d wed. The one who cheerfully told her he hadn’t much to offer a wife, but promised to keep her fed.  As if the only barometer for universal happiness - marital or otherwise - was a full stomach. Given his age and lack of experience with courtship, he’d  likely thought that to be true.

In his place now stood a man who had walked through the very heart of darkness and survived. It had been touch and go and it had taken months and, Claire realized now, it had taken this city - and a chance to test himself by swimming in unfamiliar - if not shark infested - waters that had become his proving ground. Jamie relearned the way of himself and that had allowed them to forge a deeper connection, one that had stayed in tact all these years.

The phrase “egghead and lard bucket” carried on the breeze followed by a “curiously large head” and then she heard the sound of his laugh and she caught a look at his face as his head turned with a smile as bright as the sun.

Tears sprung from her eyes and she pressed her fingers tight against her lips to keep from crying out. Christ, I hope he knew how much I loved him,  that in my restlessness and grief I hope I told him that much, at least. Quite unable to look at Jamie without continuing to fall apart, Claire turned her gaze instead to his companion. He was, per usual, scowling as he kept up a grumbling commentary regarding the olfactory delights of France.

Claire wanted to give him a hug and never let him go. Thank you, thank you, thank you! For being his godfather, for always taking care of him. God, may he be safe, wherever he may be. She prayed. She hoped they would find him one day, that she’d be able to tell him herself how dear he was to them.

As if Jamie had heard her thoughts, he said, “Did I ever thank ye, Murtagh?” Jamie was looking out over the long expanse of high society on parade in the park and not at Murtagh.

“What for?” Murtagh squirmed uncomfortably. Jamie made a scoffing sound. What, indeed.

“For my life? for Claire’s? For our child’s?” Jamie said softly, looking at Murtagh now with an expression of unabashed gratitude. “Willie - afore we left the Abbey - said Dougal  didn't want them to go to Wentworth but ye convinced the rest to join ye.”  

Murtagh scoffed. “Twasna me, yer lady, she did all that,” he said pausing a moment. “Do ye ken we spent weeks searching for ye?”

“What?” Jamie’s eyes widened in astonishment.

“Och, aye, up and doon the coast. I danced,” Murtagh gave him a shaggy browed wiggle when Jamie laughed, “Aye, that’s about what it was like, But Claire, ye should ha’ seen her, man. We tried everything we could ta talk to as many as we could hoping word would spread and ye’d pick up our trail as yer had gone cold about four days after Ian came limping back to Lallybroch. She told fortunes and did the doctoring and when that didna work she wrote songs and joined me on the stage.”

“My Sassenach?” Jamie’s eyes had gone huge. Claire bit the inside of her lip it was difficult for her to imagine it, too, and she’d been there!

“Och, aye, a bonnie-wee-lark is yer woman and stubborn as the day is long, forebye. When we discovered a band of Roma had stolen her song and was driving our crowds away by using it, there was a stramash the likes of which I’ve never seen. When Dougal was inclined no’ to be generous, she did the same to him and it was she that got the lads to agree wi’ that mad scheme.” What Murtagh hadn’t said was that the mad scheme in question, using the coos as a diversion had been his clever idea, but somehow Jamie knew that.

Jamie placed his hand on Murtagh’s shoulder, “As I said, I owe ye much, goistidh.”

“Jamie, ye are as a son to me. I dinna say it often but ye ken my heart.” Murtagh said so quietly Claire had to hold her breath to catch the words. “How are ye doing? Tell me the truth.” Murtagh’s steady gaze stayed on Jamie’s face. For the first time, Jamie looked uncomfortable in his own skin.

“During the day, I’m fine, dinna think of . . . it, hardly at all,” Jamie told him. “Most nights I’m alright as well. I’m no’ overly fond of cavortin’ with the prince, that poppinjay's bannocks arena quite baked all the way through, if ye ask me and spending time wi’ him is tedious, but sometimes it’s . . . easier to be out wi’ him than home.” Jamie sat heavily on his bum and leaned a shoulder into Murtagh’s.

Claire thought about leaving. This was getting far too personal and her throat felt like she’d swallowed broken shards of misery. “She still looks at me as she did before, makes me feel like I hung the moon for her alone and I . . . canna say what it does to my soul to see her shape change day by day wi’ the bairn. God, she deserves so much more than I can give her. It’s still mixed up for me, Claire and Randall and it’s no’ her fault, but mine. I canna get my mind clear. Yet whenever she is near I ache to . . .” The rest of what he said was lost on the wind, his face had turned away from Claire and Murtagh. She saw Murtagh bend his head and could catch a murmuring response but nothing distinctive.  

“Do you think she kens?” Jamie’s face was turned back in her direction and Claire felt lightheaded as she focused on the tender expression in his eyes.

I do, Jamie. Never doubt that. Claire thought as her body started to fly. She sighed in relief and didn’t fight it.

When she came to, she felt the chill in the crisp November air at once and knew she’d returned to the Cemetery of the Angels. She took a few breaths waiting for the dizziness to clear then slowly got to her feet. With enormous relief she spotted her basket leaning against a small stone. She reached inside and pulled the precious bundle of tulips from the bottom of the sack. Still fresh, telling her that not too much time had passed.  

Claire reoriented herself and walked toward Faith’s stone.  She caught a wink of color that defined itself as she moved closer. Her heart tightened like a vice in her chest. A posy of violets, their beautiful deep purple vivid against that cold gray stone, set precisely between the words Faith and Fraser.

But I am not the man you knew these twenty years past. His words to her upon their reunion echoed in her mind. No, she thought, you are so much more. And with a shaky hand, Claire lay her tulips on top of his, their offerings forming a cross.  

Jamie looked up from the scratching of his quill with quiet satisfaction, always pleased when he could get a sentence to go clear across the page neatly, as Claire bustled through the door to their room. “Ach, there ye are, Sassenach, I was just wondering how ye faired wi’ the-” Jamie let out an Eep! of surprise as her body slammed into his, locking him in a full body kiss.

His lips asked questions she wouldn’t answer and he decided to curb his curiosity. She was in a terrible rush to get his shirt off and when she started unlacing his breeks, he responded on an elemental level to the raw desperation of her desire, helping her get her own shirt and then her stays off in short order.

He attempted to stand, to lay her out on the bed and love her properly, but she placed her hands on his shoulders and held him rooted to the chair with a strangled sound that tried for English but emerged as feral.  

“What is it, love?” Jamie crooned softly, “Tell me, my own.” He grabbed her hair in a ponytail and yanked it back hard, forcing her to look him in the eye, at last. He stared at her, refusing to look away or let her do so, either.

Her lips were sunkissed and swollen. She looked like she’d been crying. He bent his mouth and flicked his tongue over the valley between her breasts, tang and salt, outside the contoured trail of his lips he could see her skin covered in grime, evidence of the kind of day she’d had.

He inhaled deeply, thinking how he could maneuver his body lower to further the explorations of his mouth when his brain registered something unexpected. He bent his head again and sniffed, casual at first then picking up more steam, like a pig rooting out a truffle. His nose never failed him. After a minute or so he looked up at her.

“Ye care to tell me why ye smell like new cut grass and it’s November?”

“I saw you this afternoon.” Claire said by way of an explanation, which he’d noticed provided no answer at all.

“And ye didna call out to me?” Jamie’s eyebrows rose trying to figure out where their paths might have intersected on their respective errands. He wondered if maybe she’d gone to see Faith, too? But if so, why did she not say anything?

He knew she’d been uneasy ever since learning of Laoghaire but it had been Ian’s abduction - while trying to bring back the treasure they needed to be free of her - that had opened this particular chasm between them. All of the challenges of living then, to say nothing of its dangers, death and disease, floated across her face as she sat beside him trying to soothe him with reassuring words, while he - useless, helpless man that he was - sat on that hill staring into the gloam long after Ian’s ship had slipped over the horizon - still shaking his head in disbelief.  

Finally, she adjusted his sling and urged him to action. Before setting sail for France, he offered to take her back to Craigh Na Dun. He had to force the words from his lips and his heart hammered in terror waiting for her response. The fact that his suggestion had not been greeted with the kind of shocked protestation he had prayed to hear but more of a “Focus on Ian, we’ll talk of this later,” came back into his memory now.

He should have told her what he had planned that afternoon and asked her to come, too. But when they arose, she’d barely touched their meal, kept fiddling with her basket, pulling out all her wee notations regarding needed supplies for the ship’s surgery. He tried to broach it a couple of times but Claire wouldn’t make eye contact with him and he found he didn’t have the courage to bring it up and risk her upset. If she’d not mentioned it, then he shouldn’t call it to mind, either. They were back to keeping secrets from one another.

Jamie could bear anything in this world except being parted from her again, but the moment his fingers traced the faded letters of Faith’s name, he knew he’d made a terrible mistake and wished he’d spoken of it first thing this morning. When he returned to an empty room, her absence nearly drove him mad.  Her instant need of him upon her return was a much needed balm on his anxious heart.

Claire gave him a shake of the head and a brave little smile that let him know she hadn’t meant she’d seen him today but something else.

“Oh?” He ventured cautiously. He knew what she was and he’d seen it happen a number of times but that was then and it hadn’t happened since she’d been back.

“In the Jardins des plantes,” her gaze was steady but he saw the flicker of deep emotion inside her. It had been over two decades since he’d last been in that park. His mind raced to try and figure out what she needed him to say.  

He finally settled on, “Had ye been back in Paris before today?”

“No!” Claire genuinely seemed horrified at the thought. “I haven’t set foot in France since 1743, and I never intended to do so in my lifetime again. You remember how it works?” She was watching him and when he hesitatingly nodded, she continued, “I can only travel a short distance . . . er . . . geographically speaking, that is, and my actions can’t change what has already happened.”

“Did ye see yerself, then?” Jamie asked her but he didn’t seem as upset as she would’ve thought. As if reading her mind he added, “God, I’d love to see ye round and fat in yer silk and lace again, Sassenach.”

“No, I told you, I saw you . . . oh, and Murtagh.”  

Jamie made an affirmative noise in the back of his throat. “Ye ken, Paris wouldna ha’ been the same wi’ his sunny countenance.”

“Oh, stop, Murtagh is a great travel companion!” Claire laughed.

“Aye, and no one I’d rather have guarding my back. It was an act of grace, seeing that face, wearing gray whiskers and rags, at Ardsmuir. It felt good to be the one caring for him for once. I hope we can find him again, Sassenach and bring him home.”  

“That would be wonderful.”

“Tell me what happened today,” he encouraged.

“I spent the last twenty years not going to the places we shared.  To find myself in Paris, then?” Claire shuddered. “To run into myself and to know? I might have tried to forewarn but then I would have condemned myself dreading new day fearing what would come instead of savoring every day to come. Knowing the future hasn’t helped us avert disaster so far.”

“So ye didna want to run into anyone ye knew and ended up in the park?” Jamie surmised.

“Yes, indeed. Imagine my surprise when I realized you were just on the other side of the willow tree that shielded me from your view. You were so young, Jamie. Full of grace and in great spirits. Murtagh brings out a very playful side of you. I’d forgotten how much fun you had with each other. Then, watching you, I realized how much we had enjoyed being here. All the wonderful things we had found here, too. We were part of history, something so much bigger than ourselves. It was thrilling and full of grand possibilities. I look back on our lives here and can’t believe that was us, at Versailles, dining with the prince, so much beauty and luxury.”

At this Jamie snorted, “Aye, too bad the two of us are more at home in a tent on the moor than in a mansion wi’ servants.”

“That’s true, but I still appreciate everything Jared did for us - and is still willing to do for us. Being here set me on the path to becoming a doctor and helped by giving you a different kind of purpose.” Jamie nodded and Claire continued, “It was here we found Fergus.” Jamie smiled in memory. “Nothing turned out like we’d hoped in Paris but it had been magical and after today, I can look back on it and remember it that way.”

“Swords, was it?” Jamie beamed when he heard her sigh lustily.

“Jamie you looked . . .” Words failed her, she had no other way to tell him but to show him, kissing him passionately with an explosion of soft mewling noises he found deeply gratifying, if only because they echoed the ones she was drawing from his lips.

Jamie let himself be diverted for a good long while. Claire hadn’t responded to his physical presence like this since they were in Edinburgh and he was mightily roused by her reaction. Yet, just as she was about to get completely carried away, he pushed her body back and looked searchingly at her.

“Claire?” he began, and she looked dazed, her cheeks pink from exertion. “Was it . . . that is, I dinna want to make assumptions about how yer feeling nor imply that ye should feel--” it was his turn for pinkened cheeks now.

“Jamie,” Claire held her hand out to him,”Just say it, whatever it is. Trust that I will listen with my heart and try and understand. When things go unsaid . . . that's when trouble starts for us, I think.”  

Jamie nodded and started over, “I ken why ye couldna bear to . . . I dinna blame ye one bit. But I think maybe yer fretting about making that choice - no’ for yerself or me, but for her sake.” Seeing her stunned expression, Jamie started second guessing himself, but he'd gone this far, he needed to finish. “Will ye maybe find some . . . comfort in knowing she wasna alone today? I was wi’ her, brought her a wee posy, told her how much we both love and miss her; asked her to watch o’er her little sister for us. If she’s anything like Jenny, she’ll have been doing it all along.”

“Oh, Jamie,” Claire bit her bottom lip hard willing herself not to burst into tears. How did he manage to cut her wide open and then cauterize the wound in less than five sentences? “I saw your violets when I brought her tulips. That’s where was. I awoke in the cemetery, but her grave wasn’t there.”

“Christ, Claire.” Jamie’s eyes swam with unshed tears. The second Claire reached her hand to his cheek, they spilled over, across her fingers, leaking down the back of her hand.

“I’ve needed to say something to you since Edinburgh, no, it’s not supposed to make you cry harder,” Claire gave him a sobbing hiccup, “You are, and have always been, a wonderful father, Jamie. I never told you that and I should have. I couldn’t think of anything more important than returning to you to make sure you knew it. Thank you, for giving them to me and for keeping our family together.”

“Ye thought that wouldna make me cry? Jesus, Claire, what ye do to me,” he said into her ear as he crushed her to him.

Sometime later, on the edge of sleep, he whispered, “Yer wrong though, Sassenach.”

“Hmmm?” she said in drowsy reply.

“Knowing the future did help. A great deal. Kept Jenny and the bairns alive, kept me from being hanged. It’s maybe true for the big things ye canna change time, for its stubborn and fights back. But in hundreds of small ways, it mattered. Hearing ye speak of our adventures worries me some, though. Do ye think ye can be content once we have Ian in hand just living a quiet life wi’ me in a highland croft?” It was said in a flirty tone but Claire heard the anxiety underneath.

“Yes, but don’t count the chickens in your kale yard just yet, life may have more surprises in store, General Fraser.”  

#otheroutlandertales #outlander fanfiction #mod abby #pair: jamie x claire #ch: jamie #ch: claire #ch: murtagh #canon au #category: mf #time traveler's family #oot

[abushelandablog]

The r e a l holy trinity

#i sense a pattern here watson #ch: his defiance will shake the stars #ch: trust my rage #ch: not my father #anyways #me🤝my affiinity for dark haired boys w trauma #this isnt even all of them help #i even got some blondies that fit #these r just the three that r most similar in terms of arcs and traits physical and non #ben solo #loki laufeyson #murtagh morzansson

[picturethefrasers]

Tag drop: characters (to be updated)

#ch: brianna #ch: claire #ch: fergus #ch: frank #ch: ian #ch: young ian #ch: jamie #ch: jenny #ch: john grey #ch: marsali #ch: black jack randall #ch: roger #ch: william #ch: murtagh #ch: Adso #ch: major macdonald

[thewxndererswarriors-archived]

@thescaledqueen       x

A bruise that would be marked down by someone. Murtagh did not fear much, but he knew that numbers beat talent on occasion. ‘ You are gonna get me in so much trouble.’  Before he flourished his blade to disarm her. 

#ch; Shireen Baratheon #Murtagh; Interactions

[anoutlandishfanfic]

Metamorphosis Ch 28 - La Dame Blanche

Finally! An update!! Thank you all for your patience!! We’re slowly making progress -- and so is Claire!!

Many thanks to betas @thefraserwitch​ and @walkinginland​ for their help... and keeping my feet to the fire.

You can find previous chapters here on Tumblr or over at AO3.

Nearly 10pm — Still the 21st of February, 1744 Jamie.

“Talk to me, Murtagh.”

Claire’s directive reached over my shoulder and took firm hold of my godfather.

“Oh, aye?” he squirmed slightly, unsure of his task. “What shall I tell ye, then?”

Her grip on my arm tightened as she labored through another of what she called contractions, her brow deeply furrowed and her breath coming in short gasps.

“Tell her stories,” I provided for her. “Jus talk to her… anythin’ to take her mind off things.”

This was met with great approval and he launched into a tale — at my expense.

“Have I told ye of the time yer numpty there tried to teach his sister’s wee cheetie to swim?”

I could hear the unbridled mirth in his voice, could see the massive grin stretching across his face even though my back was to him. It was Murtagh’s favorite story of my youth — and I was certain he had told her already — but I honestly didn’t mind being the subject of ridicule if it brought some small measure of comfort to my wife in her agony.

“Christ, ye’ve told it a hundred times over,” I protested in jest, dipping my head to place a soft kiss behind her ear as I dug my thumbs into the place at the base of her spine as she’d shown me.

“Ye canna be borin’ her wi’ tha’ one.”

I caught the barest hint of a smile in her eyes behind the pain and my heart soared.

Murtagh harrumphed at my interjection, suggesting, “Well, I could tell her o’ the time ye ruined yer da’s—“

“Tell her of the wee gomeral, ye old coot,” I grumbled, interrupting him before he could explain just what had become of my father’s best shirt as a result of my trying to impress a particular lass in the village.

Our companion chuckled to himself as he settled in for a good tale.

“Jenny’d nursed the wee slip o’ a thing back to health, aye?” Murtagh begun slowly, savoring the memories. “It’d been the runt o’ the litter an’ it’s mam wouldna feed it, ye see, so the lass took it within the house an’ fed it milk an’ cream an’ the like…”

Claire’s breath caught in a helpless whimper as something within her changed and my heart turned over in my chest. Her fingernails dug painfully into my skin — just as the talons of that wee fiend had all those years ago.

“She’d named it Mungo,” Murtagh continued, entirely unaware of the goings-on within our nest — completely taken back to time and place of his story, “an’ the wee cheetie had complete command of the kitchen… patrolin’ the pantry for enemy mice like a braw wee soldier.”

“Show me wha’ to do, Sorcha,” I pleaded, pressing my cheek against hers.

She turned and kissed me — hard — taking me completely by surprise and stealing all the breath from my lungs. Everything around us melted away as her soul reached out for mine, tugging and pulling with all her might. I gave in readily, offering up everything within me… all the strength, the will, and drive I possessed.

I kept my hands busy, not lifting them to her face as I maybe would have otherwise, but continued my massage of her spasming muscles. My fingers traced along her spine as my palms moved up her back, giving attention to the unyielding tendons I found along my way. I found her shoulders hunched near up to her ears and I knew that could do her no good.

“Right here, mo chridhe,” I showed her with a gentle caress across her shoulder blades. “Relax your arms, lean in to me… I’ll hold ye up.”

She did as encouraged, the loop of her arms around my neck loosening as a low, murmuring groan began to bubble up from within her. Her face turned into me as she rested her head on my shoulder, curling inward as the tone of her protestations became almost growl-like.

It was a considerable change from before and I thought these were more productive… less fearful and altogether rather like those I’d heard time and time again from the births I’d witnessed in the fields and byres of home.

Christ, how she hated my comparison.

“Aye, that’s the way,” I crooned. “Make all the wee noises ye like.”

Murtagh still hadn’t noticed that I’d been having my own conversation with my wife and that neither of us were paying any attention to him… It wasn’t worth interrupting him and perhaps as the contraction eased, the noise would become a welcome distraction again, but for now —

Claire was in a world of her own.

Her shoulders now sufficiently relaxed, my hands drifted back down to her hips. She’d begun to sway them again — a helpful action, she’d informed me earlier — and the low growl had risen to a steady hum. Setting my thumbs back into motion forthwith, we moved together for quite a while before she once again fell silent.

…

Claire.

Jamie helped me turn, allowing me to sink down onto the mattress and rest against his solid chest.

He was laughing… but silently, the vibrations doing wonders to slow my racing heart. It took me a moment to realize just what was so funny, but it was soon obvious.

Murtagh.

Jamie’s godfather was fully invested in the tale he was telling, completely oblivious as to what we were doing and instead absorbed in every detail of the recalled situation at hand.

What was it?

Ah, yes. The bloody cat.

I slid my eyes shut, a soft smile tugging at my lips.

How many times had I heard that one while we were on Jamie’s trail?

But, still, he knew it was one of my favorites and by all accounts it seemed to be one of his too.

My husband’s hand lifted to my face, brushing back the curls that clung to my damp brow and cheeks. I sighed heavily and turned my face into him, placing a kiss in the middle of his palm. A low rumble of delight ran through him as he tipped my chin up for a kiss on the mouth, the last vestiges of my latest contraction melting away as he shifted me in his arms.

And, so, it was in this manner — dressed in nothing but my shift, the nearly transparent material of which plastered against my skin, my hair a riotous mess of curls around my face, and lying cradled in my husband’s arms with my legs spread wide — that the captain of the Demeter found us as he came bounding into the cabin… with half the crew hot on his heels.

Before I could so much as blink, Jamie had extricated himself from beneath me and was using his body as a barricade to block any access to my person, dirk drawn. Murtagh had done much the same and leapt towards the door with the speed of a snapping crocodile, a nasty snarl contorting his face into an expression of such ferocity that I’d never seen before.

“Ye gave me yer word, Captain,” Murtagh spat. “Ye said ye could handle yer men… tha’ ye’d no’ be violatin’ my lady’s privacy in such a manner.”

As if in confirmation that he could not, in fact, keep control of his crew, they began to speak as one, shouting over one another and lunging towards us until the room was an overwhelming cacophony of threats of violence. I couldn’t make heads or tails of any of it, save one repeating word.

Witch.

Witch.

Witch.

Oh, bloody fucking hell.

They blamed me for the storm.

“Throw her overboard!” A raucous shout broke out above all the others.

“Aye!” came another, “Send her to the depths where she belongs!”

The very air in my lungs vanished with these words and bright spots flashed before my eyes. I reached out blindly for Jamie, desperate to take hold of something steady — but came up with nothing but empty space.

His name rolled off my tongue, parting my lips with a scream that started deep within me and multiplied until the sound bore no resemblance to my own voice.

Lightning split the sky in two and the room was awash with an unearthly light as a mighty wave surged against the side of the ship as my husband turned back to face me, the impact of the surf sending the both of us sideways across the mattress.

Jamie managed to catch hold of me, taking the blow against the wall upon himself, and it appeared from my low vantage point that only Murtagh remained upright. The rest of the men had been bowled over completely by the might of the storm and they remained where they lay… their verbal assaults suddenly silenced.

“She is no witch,” Murtagh finally spoke, raising his voice to be heard.

“She is La Dame Blanche,” he continued. “If even one of ye approaches her out of harm, she’ll curse both ye an’ yer kin to come for many a generation… I’ve seen her do it myself.”

Jamie’s arms around me loosened, now that we’d come to a secure stop against the wall, and I struggled to sit up.

“No, Sorcha,” he commanded, his voice urgent as he scrambled over me, effectively placing me between his protection and the barrier behind me. “Stay there.”

I shook my head wildly, my eyes wide. The last place I wanted to be right now was flat on my back.

“Help — me — up,” I bit out as I tried to roll onto my side by myself.

He eventually did as told — guided by a swift pinch to a tender spot within arm’s reach — and helped me sit up against the wall. He then had the audacity to turn his back on me, settling himself into a defensive position.

My vision began to cut out again in great, black blobs and I grabbed for him. My fingers brushed against his shirtsleeve and I latched on, yanking him back towards me by a fistful.

“Aye, ye’ve got me,” he assured dryly, moving only marginally closer as his attention was still firmly affixed on the ship’s crewmen and his fingers anxiously tapping against the hilt of his dirk. “I’m right here.”

“Put — that thing — down — and help me,” I bit out, using what little oxygen I had left in my lungs as my lower half once again threatened to be separated from the rest of me.

Jamie turned and looked at me — really looked at me — and nodded slowly, moving until he was right in front of me. He lay the knife within easy reach and offered himself up to me.

But the contraction had now settled in with an intensity that shook me to the very marrow of my bones. It assaulted me from all sides: making Jamie’s touch suddenly painful, the woolen fabric beneath me transforming to needled barbs, and the ruckus of the men bent on my destruction an endless, agonizing cacophony of damnation.

“Claire?”

I had shut my eyes up tight some time ago, willing my surroundings to melt away, to be suddenly back home at Lallybroch with Jenny at my side… but it was not Jenny’s voice that called to me now.

“Mo chridhe, ye mustna hold yer breath like that.”

I felt my leg jerk in reflex, my foot connecting with something solid before recoiling and heard a correlating ooof.

“Oh, aye,” my husband muttered. “Kick me all ye like, Sassenach, jus’ open yer eyes for a wee bit, aye?”

I did no such thing, incapable of even the slightest voluntary movement.

“Christ, ye’re as stubborn as any Scot,” he sighed and I felt a small measure of accomplishment, but Jamie was not about to give up his case.

“Kick, pinch, hit… I dinna mind… do anything ye like to me, mo nighean donn,” Jamie tried a different approach. “I willna touch ye if ye dinna wish it — ye ken I willna — but I’ll be ticklin’ tha’ wee foot of yer’s if ye dinna open those bonnie eyes an’ look a’ me!!”

I cracked one eye open and glared at him with all the force I could muster, but the look of relief that washed over his face as I did so had me opening the other in short order.

“A Dhia, ye ken how to scare a man,” Jamie shook his head slowly, a rueful smile now tugging at his lips as he realized I was returning to semi-consciousness of my surroundings.

“Forget them, mmm?” He passed a look back over his shoulder towards a dwindling crowd. “Murtah’s tellin’ ‘em of all the wondrous things ye can do… they’ll be back about their business in a moment or two.”

He shifted, returning his gaze to me as he moved even closer — though making no move to touch me.

“Just focus on me, aye?” Jamie offered, his blue eyes as deep and strong as the ocean surrounding us. “We’ll take it one pain at a time.”

Lifting a trembling hand, I reached for him, my sweaty palm open and empty. He took it between both of his, squeezing it tight.

“Aye, Sorcha,” he swallowed hard. “Tha’s the way.”

Together.

He sat beside me like that, steady and calm, until my contraction began to ease.

My breath was coming easier, but still ragged as I pulled him closer. Eagerly obliging, he took me back into his arms, helping me move so that I could recline against him.

I felt a slow but steady trickle of warm fluid trail down my thigh as I shifted and quickly tried to stop my bladder.  

“Fuck,” I spat, pulling my shift out of the way of the flow.

Overtaken by a hoard of men and you piss yourself.

Brilliant, Beauchamp.

Jamie grabbed for something to mop up my mess — coming up with an already half sea-soaked petticoat — and made a halfhearted comment of reassurance.

“Oh, shove it,” I hissed, eyeing our company. “I could have at least made it to the bucket.”

My husband stopped what he was doing and looked down at me with an odd expression dancing in his eyes.

“What?” I demanded.

“Well, tis jus’ that I dinna expect ye to catch all yer waters in a bucket, Sassenach,” he chuckled to himself. “Even if ye were in a room that didna sway an’ had a midwife by yer side.”

“My… oh,” the truth of what he was saying hit me quite suddenly.

Jamie’s bemused smile bloomed into a bonafide grin, having properly identified amniotic fluid before I did.

I shook my head slowly, letting it tip back to rest against his shoulder as I muttered, “Jesus H Roosevelt Christ.”

#outlander #outlander fanfic #metamorphosis au #chapter 28 #la dame blanche

[not-poignant]

Ch 26/26 - The Beast that Chose Its Own Bridle (Doctrine of Labyrinths, Felix/Murtagh)

Title: The Beast that Chose Its Own Bridle - 26 - Home

Rating: Explicit Fandom: Doctrine of Labyrinths by Sarah Monette Characters: Felix Harrowgate/Murtagh - Ferrand Carey     Warnings/Tags: Angst, hurt/comfort, magical healing BDSM, dominance/submission, canon typical lack of safewords, dubious consent, miscommunication and communication, post Corambis, kink negotiation, PTSD, triggers, traumatic past, flashbacks, age gap, praise kink, aftercare.

Summary: The Duke of Murtagh has never been able to forget his one evening with Felix Harrowgate, back when he knew Felix only as a shadow for hire. In the two years since, everything has changed, and Murtagh’s circumstances have shifted enough that he’s curious to pursue the lonely magician who lives at the Grimglass lighthouse.

The Beast that Chose Its Own Bridle - 26 - Home

In which Felix finds that he is capable of happiness after all, despite his mind frequently working against him.

Thank to all the folks reading this, you are all the best!

#doctrine of labyrinths #chapter update #dol #felix harrowgate #mildmay foxe #duke of murtagh #ferrand carey #180k WE MADE IT ldsakfjasfdsa

[incorrect-outlander-quotes]

Murtagh: What's going on with you and Mistress Beauchamp?

Jamie: Nothing.

Murtagh: I think you're wrong.

Jamie: I'm not.

Murtagh: I think you're involved with her.

Jamie: I'm not.

Murtagh: But you want to be.

Jamie: Yes, I am.

Murtagh: I think... wait. What?

Jamie: See, sometimes, if I change direction, you just run right past.

#incorrectoutlanderquotes #incorrect outlander quotes #outlander #jamie fraser #claire fraser #ch: jamie fraser #ch: claire fraser #ch: murtagh fraser #source: the west wing

[sablelab]

Covert Operations - Chapter 134

SYNOPSIS: Everyone who worked in Med Lab was under suspicion of being the mole including Dr Foster and Bóinne Rivière.  Murtagh asks his friend Fergus to help him with information about the Med Lab nurse from her profile but when he checks he discovers that she has been earmarked for cancellation. In trying to find any Intel that will help her, Fergus comes across an encrypted file.  A feeling of déjà vu overcomes him and his suspicions are roused by the only one person who was capable of making such a code … a nemesis from the past.

I really am very grateful to all the readers of Covert Operations and I am truly appreciative.  THANK YOU muchly.

Chapter 133 and all other chapters can be found at … https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations.   This story is not on Ao3.

   CHAPTER 134

 It had been a couple of days since Jamie and Claire had left Section, and Fergus Claudel had been collaborating all the data he could on those that Madeline had requested to see if he could find anything on a mole in Section One.  So far, he had come up empty and he was still investigating all avenues to try and clear up suspicion on his friend’s fiancée.

Tonight, as usual, Section was deserted except for Comm. It was peaceful and quiet and Fergus had the perfect time alone to do his searching task on Bóinne Rivière and others in Med Lab without being disturbed by anyone. It was just how he liked it especially when he was faced with the problem of doing something without anyone looking over his shoulder. However, just as he was about to pull up the Med Lab nurse’s profile, Murtagh and she appeared in Comm., so he shut down the link before his friend came any closer and could see what he was accessing and changed to another innocuous file. The last time he had seen the two of them together had been after their happy announcement but now they were dressed for the outside, obviously heading out on a date to celebrate their engagement and pending marriage.  As they were making their way over towards Fergus, Bóinne suddenly stopped and spoke to Murtagh. “Oh … I’ve forgotten my jacket … I’ll be right back.” “Okay honey … I’ll just wait over with Fergus,” he replied good naturedly. She gave him an indulgent smile then left to go back to her quarters to pick up her coat. In the meantime, Murtagh walked over to where Fergus was sitting at his station. Noticing that he was working on something on his computers as usual, he stood next to him totally absorbed in his own agenda and asked in an eager voice.

“Did you get my stuff yet?”  Fergus kept on working but he still answered his friend. “What stuff?” “The stuff I sent.” However, the computer whiz didn’t have a clue what Murtagh Fitzgibbons was taking about. “No?” he replied somewhat baffled at his statement. In Murtagh’s frame of mind it was as if the whole world revolved around him and Bóinne and he couldn’t quite understand why Fergus knew nothing about the message he’d sent to him just a little while ago. “You must know!” he strongly clarified; shocked that his best friend hadn’t read this important memo from him, so he elaborated for his obvious oversight, “Bóinne! ... Why, Bóinne, of course!” Fergus looked at his pal conveying in his glance that he’d had more important things on his mind lately than correspondence from him. “I've been a little busy, Murtagh. I haven’t even told you what happened to me in the White Room.” However, the munitions’ expert brushed off his comment, “No need ... you survived … that’s all I need to know.” He was too wrapped up in his own feelings to ask any further questions and before Fergus could reply Murtagh continued, “Hey, it’s Bóinne’s birthday tomorrow. I need to get her something that she really likes.” “Why don't you ask her?” was Fergus’ pragmatic response as it seemed that most logical thing to do. At his buddy’s reply, Murtagh came to stand in front of the computer and looked at his young friend with an incredulous look on his face. “You ..., ah ..., don't know women very well, do you?” Fergus looked up at his friend and met his gaze, before breaking into a grin then a laugh at the twinkle he saw in the older operative’s eyes. “Right now?” “Yeah ... right now,” he grinned in reply knowing that his young buddy would help him with the information he needed to know about his fiancée. “Before she gets back.” It was so glaringly obvious that Murtagh Fitzgibbons was in love. His friend had never looked happier and Fergus was very pleased for him. Having never seen him this way before, he took pity on his lovesick pal. He pulled up Bóinne Rivière’s profile knowing that he would have to do it at some stage to see if she was linked to the passing of Intel to Colum from Med Lab. He was a little hesitant that something might pop up that his pal shouldn’t see, but once her data appeared on screen, he only read out the pertinent information to him.  Sitting back in his chair he began to read aloud the nurse’s profile. “Let's see what we've got. She plays the piano ...” Murtagh accessed this piece of unknown information about his beloved. “Nice,” he replied eager for more titbits of her accomplishments. “... is fluent in French, Swahili and Russian.” The admiration for his fiancée was heart-warming but Murtagh could only manage a suppressed “Mmmm” when Fergus relayed this piece of information. He continued reading some more facts, “... broke her leg when she was twelve ... got thrown from a horse.”

A sudden image of Bóinne as a child flashed through Murtagh’s head of her riding her pony. “Really ..., huh ..., it’s great stuff Fergus.” Breaking from his reverie, he asked, “What else?” “She had two black cats as a child which she doted on.”

All of a sudden something else unexpectedly appeared on screen from her file as Fergus was reading, that gave him pause.   He frowned as he silently read the information to himself.  Unfortunately, the older operative noticed the change in expression on the young techie’s face and asked a little anxiously.

“What is it?” He was a little discombobulated at his friend’s change in demeanour and leaning closer, Murtagh tried to view her profile, but Fergus quickly darkened the screen before he noticed anything.

“Nothing …That was it,” he replied hoping that his buddy would be satisfied with the information about Bóinne he had relayed and forget about his hesitancy in sharing more before his quick closing down of her profile. “Well ... that's enough. Ponies and black cats, right?”

“Yes … that’s right.”

“Hmm? … cats!” He repeated as an idea suddenly formed in his mind for a present.  He gave Fergus a happy nod knowing that their collusion had paid dividends, but he was quick to curb his enthusiasm as he looked up and saw Bóinne approach them after collecting her jacket from her quarters. Smiling she came and stood beside her fiancé comfortably linking her arm through his and asked, “You ready to go?” Murtagh Fitzgibbons was a man in love and because he was enamoured with this woman he couldn’t contain his joy in seeing her again especially after his buddy had managed to sow the seed of an idea for a special birthday present for her.

“I guess you know I've missed you …” he replied holding her gaze. She merely just smiled coyly, before turning her attention to the computer expert. “Would you like to join us Fergus?” she asked in a gentle tone wanting to include Murtagh’s best friend in their happiness.  “To help us celebrate?”  Under the circumstances Fergus knew that they would want to be alone. “You don’t need me there to celebrate. Thanks … but no.” Three was a crowd and he would only be the third wheel, nevertheless he was touched that he’d been invited. “Have a great night.” “We will.” The couple didn’t take much persuading and Murtagh Fitzgibbons quickly hustled his lady love off, impatient to be out of Section where they could have some privacy. “Okay … Let's get out of here ... quick before this young whippersnapper changes his mind.” They’d both smiled and happily left him alone at his station.  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ However as soon as they were out of sight, Fergus pulled up Bóinne Rivière’s file once more, to reread her profile. As he read her details and scrolled down her data, he was suddenly gob smacked at what appeared on the monitor … it was the flashing last line that held his attention.  STATUS: EVALUATION UNSATISFACTORY TRANSFER TO ABEYANCE TERMINATION RANKING: 2 This Intel shocked him to the core, especially knowing that Murtagh had finally found some happiness in this hellhole, even though it looked like it may be fleeting. But now he was faced with a dilemma.

Should he tell Murtagh about Bóinne's new status or let him enjoy the time they had together? This news would be devastating for his friend.

There must be some mistake that her evaluation was unsatisfactory, he thought. How could that be and why had she been scheduled for cancellation? He was flummoxed as to how she had come to get such a rating. Her skills in medical seemed to be above board and she appeared very dedicated to her patients. However, everyone in Med Lab was under suspicion, but he couldn’t see how they would have the means to set up hidden surveillance or the motive to do so. Given Madeline’s directive, he’d always been worried that he would have to do this check on Murtagh’s fiancée, and those in Medical including Dr Foster, but he never thought he would find anything.  On the other hand, this was not a surprising outcome as everyone in Section was expendable. No one was immune to the life that was Section One. Things could change in the blink on an eye. Nobody ever knew how long they were for this world especially in the line of work people did, and it wouldn’t take much to put an operative into abeyance if it was decreed by the powers that be that they were unsatisfactory, as like what had happened to Bóinne. But this just didn’t make sense. Operations and Madeline already knew that she had failed her evaluation. Why did they want him to do a cross check on her? Were they just trying to join the dots and link her to Colum too, to warrant the cancellation? This was getting more complicated by the minute. He hoped to god that he could find something that may change their minds. It became more urgent now, knowing that he didn’t want to see Murtagh’s happiness shattered before it had begun. His buddy deserved to be happy and he would do everything in his power to find some anomaly in this decision … for his best friend’s sake. Fergus decided that he would do a thorough check of all Med Lab staff first before concentrating on who he thought was a prime suspect … a nemesis from the past … Frank Wolverton-Randall. Hopefully he would find something that would incriminate him and perhaps at the same time find some Intel that would get rid of the unsatisfactory tag and cancellation notice on the medical nurse. Fergus knew that he was now racing against the clock to find something ... anything … to exonerate her from suspicion and ultimately cancellation. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ It was late. Madeline had given him time to come up with something and so far, there was nothing of interest that they didn’t already know. Dr Foster and Bóinne Rivière appeared to have taken no part in transferring Intel to Colum Mackenzie, so that left him with his gut feeling that Frank Wolverton-Randall was somehow involved. He just needed a bit of luck to find a connection.  Tiredly Fergus removed his glasses and sat staring at his monitor hoping that the new parameters he’d just typed in would reveal something. What seemed like ages really didn’t take that long, for in no time a wall of numbers began scrolling up the screen in a never-ending progression. He studied the numerals and mentally tried a number of ways to go about deciphering them but couldn’t put his finger on what would be the best way to go about it. The monitor mounted above his head showed the same image but he numbly stared at the screen unable to get a handle on the code. Frustrated, Fergus got up to stretch his legs but he was restless and rubbed his hand over his head. He’d attempted several tried and true methods but nothing had worked so far. He was getting nowhere fast for everything he’d tried came up a dead end. He started to pace back and forth as one idea after another popped into his head that he could try to solve the puzzle. This code was obviously hiding something or someone, and must have been deeply encrypted, but he would find the way in. At least it was a glimmer of hope and something he could take to Operations and Madeline when next they met.  Fergus took a deep breath. It just didn’t make sense. This code was layered and multifaceted.

There was only one name that came to mind capable of inventing such a thing … his arch-rival and his prime suspect … Frank Wolverton-Randall. If anyone was able to produce such an encrypted code it was his nemesis. He was the only one that Fergus could think of that had the means to design something buried so deep that it would be too difficult for a layman technician to find. His suspicions were heightened once he found that code. He was having difficulty decoding it and only Frank had the expertise to invent such a thing like he’d done once before. His reservations grew all the more that he was indeed a mole for Colum. But he needed to solve this code first or else all his theories were just guessing about him, so Fergus typed in a different cypher to access the operative’s file, which after a while hit a stumbling block. It was then that the penny dropped that Wolverton-Randall could very well be implicated and had buried important files from detection.

If it took all night Section’s computer genius vowed that he would get to the bottom of whatever it was that Frank was trying to hide. 

Operations and Madeline would need proof and concrete evidence that he was Colum’s mole and that he was the one who was relaying intel to him at Oversight. So far, all Fergus had was supposition about an operative and one he didn’t like that much. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Frank Wolverton-Randall’s supercilious face kept making a vivid image in Fergus’ mind and he found that the man was doing his head in all over again just like he’d done when he’d first arrived at Section One those years ago.

He’d been having difficulty in solving an extremely problematic encryption and had been unable to decipher it much to his chagrin. So, he’d put forward a pretty select group of three people to his superiors who could possibly help. However, bringing anyone into Section clandestinely would always be challenging and Jamie and Claire had been given the task to bring in the one person Operations thought would be the best fit to help him … Frank Wolverton-Randall. He’d been blindfolded and brought into Section and would be released as soon as he had completed deciphering the code. But Fergus had reservations about his superiors’ choice of Frank from the very start because of constraints about him.

These recollections made Fergus Claudel remember his words vividly.  

He had pulled up the holograph profile and read the information noted to Operations and Madeline at the time they were considering him for this job. 

“The third candidate could be tricky sir.  He’s young. ... His name is Frank Wolverton-Randall. Graduated high school at eleven; college at thirteen. Received his Ph.D. after six months. Wrote his thesis on non-linear principal components. Because he's the youngest tenured Professor in the history of the University, he's highly visible.”  “What makes you think he can do this?” Madeline had asked.  “He's written several papers on statistical L-trees. Exactly the kind of approach that's needed.” Although Frank’s resume was exemplary, nevertheless he’d been a little peeved at the fact that the young man had been brought into Section because of something he’d been unable to solve. His resentment must have reflected in his tone of voice when Madeline had replied. “Fergus ..., remember, this is not about who's smarter than whom. He'll challenge you. Stay above it. We have an objective and a deadline.”  There was truth in Madeline’s words but it still stuck in his craw and made him have some doubts about Frank’s ability, but nonetheless he nodded his acknowledgement of her statement. At the time they’d needed his expertise. Their plan was to get Wolverton-Randall to decode the challenging program without him seeing or knowing about Section One so that they could release him when he was done … however, it had backfired on them.  Although Frank had quickly figured out the code, he was bored and got curious about where he was and had wandered outside his room against strict instructions not to. Operations and Madeline found out that he had seen Section, so they decided that he had to stay … the only other alternative was cancellation.  He was then left with a recalcitrant and pretentious operative working with him who was forever to be a thorn in his side. It was the attitude of the teenager that really riled him. His scornful jocularity was still a very vivid memory when he’d gone to his room and found Frank working on the computer. He’d ignored his juvenile obnoxiousness, and put the laptop down and started keying in commands to bring up the code that needed deciphering.  “Good. You know what? I wish you guys would let me in deeper, because there's really not too much more I can fix here,” Frank announced cockily. He remembered looking up at him startled by his statement. Every time the boy spoke it was a personal affront to his own capabilities and he didn’t like it.

“Fix?!” he remarked, the inflection in his voice one of disdain for the upstart who was superciliously questioning his ability. “Yeah, you had some bad modification dates in your ... ah … master symbol table. Don't worry. I fixed 'em.”  Frank Wolverton-Randall was reprehensible, but he’d managed to shrug off the slight and got back to the job at hand, but he couldn’t help the sarcastic words that left his mouth in a rhetorical taunt of his own.

“Let's just get to work, okay? Then you can go back home to your Mummy...”  “Sure Frenchie ... So ... you're the guy who couldn't break the code,” was his backhanded retort. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Frank was a vengeful, loose cannon, when he came into Section One calling everyone names and treating the whole thing like a game. At the time Section’s IT prodigy had thought how could someone so smart be so stupid? Although he was very young, that was no excuse for his behaviour. There was also a rivalry and a jealously between the two computer geniuses and Fergus didn’t trust him one iota. Frank was very underhand and had been a thorn in his side on more than one occasion.  Fergus could still hear his hollow words when Operations had praised him for his achievement in cracking the code.

We're going to make a great team Claudel … but there was an openly blatant, ulterior motive in his statement to him about his aspirations in the pecking order at Comm. 

“Yeah, well, you're the boss, for now ...” Trying to flippantly pass it off as a joke did not cut the mustard with him.  If he could implicate others and hack into his computer, Frank was one to watch very carefully.  There had been occasions too, where the upstart had humiliated him with his self-importance and on one occasion his narcissism had nearly cost him his life. When transmission went haywire during a mission while they were at Comm., and he couldn’t get it back up, Section’s leader had stood him down and placed the newcomer Wolverton-Randall in charge.  Frank succeeded but he thought that Frank had planned this from the very start to make him look bad.

The new operative had been placed in charge of his post by Operations while he’d been sent out on a mission for the very first time.  He had wanted out but, Section’s leader told him that he was keeping him inside the terrorist organization to gather more intel.  If he hadn’t thought of a way to get out himself, Dougal Mackenzie would have left him there indefinitely … leaving Wolverton-Randall in charge of Communications, and thus fulfilling his promise to be the boss himself one day. He would have been replaced by the very person who had manipulated his way into his position by skulduggery and deceitful tactics.

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

Those incidents were all very telling reminders about Frank’s motives and aspirations and were certainly a major factor to Fergus’ doubts in the situation that had now arisen with the Rising Dragons’ mission and breach of Section protocol.  At the same time, all of these memories were raw and it was little wonder that he was suspicious that Frank Wolverton-Randall was the one supplying Intel to Colum Mackenzie.  He had an axe to grind about a lot of people at Section One and payback was a bitch.  If he could do something underhand to destabilise the Rising Dragons’ mission, then Fergus knew that Frank would have no compunction but to do so.  Hence it was imperative that he was able to solve this code and he wouldn’t let it defeat him … not like the last time.  Suddenly, Fergus’ eyes lit up. Déjà vu. It all began to make sense and came flooding back to him as he thought of a different way to attack the code and decipher the Intel it contained.  Memories of that night had given him the clue he needed.  Fergus rushed back over to his station and once there gathered his thoughts, put his glasses back on and then started typing in a new set of parameters of a function that wasn't in the program. As he worked, the young techie’s face changed from angst at not being able to resolve a problem to one of immense satisfaction knowing that he was about to solve a complex puzzle.  He realised that this cypher had an outer shell ... but that was a big decoy. He then typed in another command and waited for it to cycle through the multi-threaded inner workings of his computer. Once he’d finished typing in the commands, he looked up at the monitor above him. It showed a percentage scale as the new program loaded and started deciphering the complex code.  The monitor showed a two-dimensional grid in which the encryption appeared as a series of spikes, like a mountain range. Fergus watched as the algorithms darted all over the screen until the new program finished decoding and the scale at the top read "DECRYPTION COMPLETE." The grid now showed structures shaped like rectangular towers slowly surrounding the spikes. From this grid he could now convert the grid table to words and read the messages contained in the code.  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Flushed with a sense of triumph at cracking the complex code, Fergus Claudel leapt up from his seat, pumped his hands in the air yelling, “YEAH!!!” He was a computer genius and he knew it. He looked around the deserted Comm. with a sense of accomplishment and excitement, now wanting to share his sense of victory with others, but there was not a soul around to share in his delight. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His hypothesis was correct. At last he’d found some incriminating Intel about his nemesis Frank Wolverton-Randall being the mole and with his involvement with Colum Mackenzie. He’d been instrumental in Intel tampering and now Section’s resident mainframe mastermind had the proof he needed.  Fergus began uploading the data about Frank to his computer. “Come on, come on, come on.” He whispered impatiently to himself as the files downloaded.  This is what he had wanted to find and it just may be what would facilitate Operations and Madeline to reassess Murtagh’s fiancée, Bóinne Rivière’s evaluation status. He sat back in his chair and waited until all the data was downloaded. Once it had done so, he saved the information to a disk ready for his next meeting with Section’s leaders.

Finally, with exhausted release and immense satisfaction at what he’d found, Fergus Claudel breathed a sigh of relief which echoed in his all-conquering acclamation that echoed throughout Comm. when he’d finished the download.  “YES!!!!”  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~to be continued next Friday 31st July

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

[dopescotlandwarrior]

Beauty Chooses II-Chapter 7

                           All my thanks to @statell​ for your unending help

Previous chapters on AO3 Ch-1  Ch-2  Ch-3  Ch-4  Ch-5  Ch-6

Chapter Seven- Culloden Moor 

I thought Murtagh had gone to bed, but here he was again kneeling in front of me. I saw a fear in his eyes I had never seen before. He took my hand and my tears poured down my face not wanting to hear what he came to tell me. No! He will be home any minute, I screamed in my head.

“Lass, it’s time to discuss a probable explanation for Jamie’s absence. Ye need to be strong like never before, ye ken?”

I saw him through watery eyes and shook my head side to side. In my head, I was screaming at him to shut his mouth, but I knew I could not stop this insanity, whatever it was.

“It’s likely Jamie has been press-ganged into service for Prince Charles. They will secure his service with threats against you and Faith. He will be convinced he must serve and lead men into battle or ye and Faith will be killed.”

I couldn’t breathe suddenly, and my hands flew to my back reaching for my corset laces. I was panicked and feeling the dizziness of oxygen depletion. Murtagh pulled my jacket off and quickly pulled my laces enough for a deep breath. I held my skirts to my face and sobbed like I would die from this broken heart. When I could steady myself, I looked up at Murtagh.

”If Jamie fights on Culloden Moore he will be killed, and we will be next.”

“I believe Jamie will find a way to escape and we have to be ready to disappear with him. We can hide out until a ship will have us. Don’t lose faith in Jamie lass, he will find his way back, and alive.”

Murtagh went to bed and I stayed in the parlor all night, waiting for Jamie to return, waiting for my heart to start again, waiting for an inkling of hope all was not lost. I did not see my bedroom for three days because I was waiting for Jamie. I didn’t eat or speak to anyone other than Faith. On the third day, my lack of sleep drove my sanity away. I saw Jamie out the windows, working or feeding horses. I jumped up and down, so happy to see him safe. Running outside I would not be able to find him, and my despair would return. During dinner the third night, I saw Jamie walk down the hall and screamed with joy running after him. When he couldn’t be found I crumpled into the wall and fell to the floor. I remember nothing after that except Faith nursing at my breast and then darkness.

I woke up terribly stiff during the night and was shocked to see Murtagh in the corner chair, elbows on knees, staring at the ground. He looked so sad.

“Murtagh?”

“Thank Christ, yer awake lass. I need to ask ye, please find yer strength. Yer family needs ye desperately now, please don’t go back into yer long sleep.”

“How long have I slept?”

“two days Claire.”

“Dear God, what’s happened in those two days? Murtagh, I’m so sorry I left you holding down the house. Are the animals okay? Misses Crook and Glavia?”

He nodded yes to all my questions and filled me in on the news of several skirmishes with the British that the Jacobites had won. The Scottish troops were assembled for training and preparation of the coming battle. British troops were massing for the one-sided battle that would bring Scotland to her knees.

“Claire. Do we stay or do we go?”

I looked at him wide-eyed like I had not considered leaving Jamie behind. I couldn’t speak because this reality was outside my ability to endure. Leave him behind. Take his daughter and run away from him.

“I cannot.”

Murtagh told me to think about a plan, we needed a plan, or we would all be killed when the red coats came to wipe-out the families of the traitors. Murtagh left my room and I walked hunched over looking at the ground. I wanted to lay on the floor and just wait for Jamie to come home. But I had to move and save my daughter and two dear friends who trusted me to lead them to safety.

My days were filled with chores and fear. The British had requisitioned a great many resources in Scotland to be used to murder Scottish men fighting for our freedom. They had seized most of the ships that we would need to find passage to America, and the chance to get away became slim to non-existent. On April first I hung my head and cried for Jamie to come home. Seventeen days to escape my love, it’s time to find a way.

Murtagh and I were exhausted trying to fill Jamie’s shoes; when I could no longer stand it, I climbed the hill and found my tree. I sat on the ground and ran my hand over the place I would wake up day after day and Jamie’s smiling face filled my mind. It was transporting. I closed my eyes and let those memories drift through my mind, making me forget he was gone. The dipping temperature woke me hours later and I staggered to my feet feeling my breasts achingly full trying to remember the last time I had nursed Faith. I was running and misjudged the hill, running straight off the edge, and flying through the air before tumbling to the bottom.

“Claire!” Murtagh pulled me up. “I’ve been lookin everywhere for ye lass, are ye alright?”

All I could think of was Faith as I ran to the house and up to the nursery. I came in wide-eyed to see Glavia hold a cup to Faith encouraging her to sip the milk. Misses Crook was behind her with a big encouraging smile.

“What are you doing?”

“Teaching the little beauty to drink from a cup and look at her!”

I felt betrayed and suddenly left out. I had hardly seen my daughter except to nurse her in the past three weeks, and here she was learning to drink without me. Glavia was nothing short of a miracle since the day she delivered my baby. I loved her and knew she meant only the best for Faith, so I kept quiet.

When Faith saw me, she reached out calling, “mama up. ” Glavia held her hands while she took bold steps toward me and I sank down to the floor to witness this miracle. Faith was breathing hard and smiling as she came to me. I held out my hands and caught the second love of my life holding her to me and wishing Jamie was here to see this.

On April 13th, Murtagh again went to the docks and returned with nothing. He was starting to pester me about the plan. It was time to go and I knew it. I couldn’t think with the battle on our heels; I would rather sit in a corner and pray for Jamie’s safety.

On April 17, 1745 I sat on my bed and watched the sun come up through bloodshot eyes. It was almost over and the greatest man I had ever known would raise his sword against the muskets, carbines, pistols, cannons, and 35-inch swords of the British army who will outnumber the Highlanders four to one. I sobbed and hugged Jamie in my head. Trying to say everything I thought I had a lifetime to say. Please hear me Jamie. I love you, until the end of time, wait for me in heaven, feel my love.

Jamie was in battle uniform in the quiet of the sunrise. He knew the battle would be lost today and his worry over Claire and Faith nearly crippled him. He had tried to escape twice and paid dire consequences at the wrong end of the whip. He pulled Claire into his mind and when he saw her wide golden eyes and beautiful face, it broke him. He walked the field they were camped in trying to stay ahead of the guards posted to him day and night. He just wanted to be alone with the Sassenach and Faith one last time.

In his mind, he touched her cheek. I hope yer on a fast ship to America my love, far away from the devastation to come. I hope ye remember me always. The man who loved ye like ye were the sunrise itself. It has been this lad’s honor to love ye and I humbly thank ye lass.

All day, Murtagh and I carried supplies high into the hills where we would hide in a secret cave barely big enough for one person. On my third climb, I fought my skirts and strangulating corset, finally throwing my armload to the ground I walked back to the house.

“Misses Crook! Kindly assist me with this hateful corset.”

I climbed into the attic with Misses Crook looking like I was the worst sinner she had ever seen. To be walking around the house without my corset was just not done. I was pleasantly surprised I was not panting for air from my efforts and set about looking for clothing I could wear. When I emerged, I wore breeks, a linen shirt, boots and a hat with my hair stuffed neatly inside. The next ten trips up to the cave that day were far easier.

I had a steady stream of tears on my cheeks throughout the day. I was so tired I could not move anymore. The battle was over and Jamie was dead, my dreams were dead, my world was dead, and this century was dead to me. We hunkered down in the cave and slept fitfully all night wondering if Lallybroch was being raided and if we would ever see it again.

The next day I passed out salted fish and jerky to everyone except Faith who was nursed as always. I told everyone we were leaving this place, today. Gone were my refined manners and speech, I addressed them like a New Yorker, and I was taking them home to my century. One way or another.

I crept into the barn after hiding to watch the house for ten minutes. I saddled Brimstone quickly with shaking hands and held my breath. I led her quickly out into the long grass and then mounted and galloped into the woods. I told her how sorry I was, but we needed speed and urged her to keep running. When I tied her to a tree at the bottom of the gorge, I heard thunder above my head and a second later, rain. It came down in buckets soaking me through. I held my ears from the loud claps of thunder and sat on a large rock to wait the storm out, never so defeated in my life.

I stared at the rocks, as far as my eyes could see. Normal, round, ugly rocks that held no magic to get us to safety. I continued to stare at them and saw the pounding rain hit them with force. Pieces of sand and dirt were knocked away and slowly the outer crust of dirt melted away by the pounding rain to reveal a beautiful, brilliant blue! I screamed and jumped up to lift the rock into my sack, smiling ear to ear.

There were more and more pieces revealed by this miracle rain and I gathered them all into my sack and tied it my saddle. If the magic was still there, we would escape sure death today. I galloped home with renewed hope slowing to a quiet gate as I approached the estate. The rain continued and the house was crawling with redcoats.

I pulled the tack off Brimstone and told her to go home, then I ran for the big hill to join my family and get us to a safer time. I saw several redcoats in the hills above Lallybroch and luckily avoided being seen. As I approached the cave my heart nearly stopped when I saw Murtagh, Misses Crook, Glavia, and my darling Faith, being pushed out of the cave, the swords of two British soldiers were at their backs.

I was breathing so hard I thought I might pass out, so I sat low behind a tree and calmed my breathing. I prayed for the strength to do this and prayed to Jamie to help me know when to run to my family. The minutes were like hours as I watched the sadistic soldiers torture Murtagh and leer at Glavia. She was so scared and my heart broke for her. There was nowhere for the group to run as the soldiers were in front of the path that led down the hill, they were captives awaiting execution.

When the soldiers huddled to discuss the murder and rape of Glavia, I made a run for my “family” holding my finger to my lips to shush them all. I held out my hands instructing us all to join hands tightly, and not to let go under any circumstance. I didn’t bother with whispering anymore. I reached into the sack and pulled out the biggest blue stone yelling at them not to let go!

Two muskets were raised and aimed at my head and the balls were fired into thin air, we had vanished leaving the soldiers staring ahead, mute with shock. I clung to Glavia and Murtagh and felt the whole group jettison away from this time. I concentrated on modern Scotland and Lallybroch, envisioning how it was when I left.

When I became aware of the others again, we were standing in front of Lallybroch on a warm sunny day. I pulled Faith into my arms and kissed her awake. My smile was so big it hurt until I saw the terrified faces of Murtagh, Glavia, and Misses Crook. The women were crying uncontrollably and clinging to each other. I put my arms around them and told them we were alright.

“We made it! I’m sure of it. Please trust me, it was the only way to save all of you. We are at Lallybroch, two-hundred and fifty years in the future. I am a time traveler, and this is my time. I know it’s a lot to take in, but we would have died horrible deaths at the hands of those soldiers. This was the only way. I’m sorry it was such a shock. I am not happy about being here, but you are all alive and hopefully, I’ll get you back to your time, when it’s safer.”

The house looked incredible as we walked toward it. It shined with new windows and paint, fences repaired and whitewashed, and a garden! I wondered if I brought us to the wrong time and we were about to walk into someone’s home. My poor startled friends were huddled together, scared shitless, and looking suspiciously at me.

“I’m so sorry, please forgive me for not telling you before we made the jump. There just wasn’t time. Please, don’t be afraid. This is safest place you could hope to be. I don’t remember the house looking this way so I’m going in first to make sure it’s empty. I gave the estate to my best friend before I went through the stones to stay in your century with Jamie.” Blank, fearful faces looked at me. “It’s a very long story and I will tell you everything in due time.”

I knocked on the kitchen door and said hello! Nothing. The door was locked so I walked around the house counting to the third window. I reached high and felt a key. Thank you Joe, I thought, for always being consistent.

I returned to the group huddled at the front of the door and held them back as I unlocked the door, telling them I would check the house and then let them in. The kitchen was completely updated and smelled like fresh paint. It was so lovely. I crept through the room and noticed the fire pit and cauldron had been replaced with a contemporary stove. When I looked up, I stopped dead in my tracks.

On the counter was a cell phone plugged into the wall for a continuous charge. I picked it up with shaking hands and pushed buttons until it lit up. The phone app was on and a phone number had been punched in. I hit the call button and held my breath. I knew the line connected to someone and my heart pounded waiting for a hello.

“Pet.”

When I heard his voice the last two months of worry and loneliness crashed down on my head and I held on to a cabinet to keep from falling.

“Joe!” I wept, uncontrollably. The millions of minutes I held back my emotion for the good of the group came bursting forward like a damn broke and I sobbed his name over and over again.

“I am close, and I am coming pet. Please be there. Please.”

The line went dead and I staggered to the door to let everyone in. I was holding a paper towel under my nose as Misses Crook pinched it trying to understand what it was. I took Faith from Glavia and we walked through the house that had been repaired, retrofitted for electricity and plumbing, and furnished. Each bedroom had a bed, dresser, lights, and other assorted furniture. I avoided Jamie’s room knowing I would lose it completely, wanting to spare Faith that scary sight. Joe had thought of everything including a crib for Faith and an extra bed in the nursery for Glavia. When I left him almost four-million dollars it was intended for his education not restoring Lallybroch. Right now, I couldn't be happier.

It was overwhelming to us all and we gathered in the kitchen so I could show them some of the benefits of the twentieth century. I could see they were starting to withdraw from the shock of being transported to another time where their house still existed. Wait for a plane to fly overhead, I thought.

“I’m sorry you all got the fright of your life, truly sorry.” I looked at Murtagh who was white-faced and quiet. “We are safe here. Many years in the future. No wars, no clans, and … no Lairds. I lost my control at that point and my tears flowed for several minutes.

“But! Here are some nice things you can enjoy while you are at this Lallybroch..” I opened the door to the refrigerator; it was well stocked with drinks in cans, including beer, but no food. The freezer was stuffed with dinners, side dishes, minute meals, and everything else Joe could get into it. I pulled Misses Crooks hand to the frig and put her hand on the cold cans. She gasped and pulled her hand away holding it close to her body with wide eyes. I turned on one of the burners and held Glavia's hand above it until she snatched it back feeling the heat with no fire.

I pulled a beer out for Murtagh and watched his eyes light up when he drank it down. I pulled juice out for Misses Crook and Glavia and watched their surprise when they tasted the liquid. I tipped a juice to Faith’s lips and she took a tentative taste scrunching up her face at the bold flavor. Her little arms reached for the can every time she swallowed and the laughter from that was our first relief from the stressful shock.

The next modern marvel was the bathroom and the updates were stunning. The house had four bathrooms that I could see and figured another would have been built into the master bedroom making five total. I took a tumbler from a kitchen cabinet and led them all into the downstairs bathroom. First I flushed the toilet causing them all to jump back and gasp. I turned the faucet on and blew them away with the column of water that poured out on my command. Next, I filled the glass to the brim and poured it into the toilet, wadding up some toilet paper and dropping it in before flushing it away.

The confusion on all their faces suggested I oversimplified this particular room. I thought for a minute and announced “the chamber pot” creating nodding heads and affirmative oohs and ahs. They were hustling out of the bathroom when I pulled them back to see one more miracle. I pushed the shower curtain open and turned on the shower with hot water. I pulled Glavia’s hand to the water and she nearly screamed with her shock as the water came out hot. After each person had felt the water, I decided it was time to rest.

Murtagh vanished and I led Glavia and Faith to the nursery where I nursed my daughter and soothed Glavia’s nerves. Faith was out like a light and I kissed Glavia’s hands promising her we would be alright and she would return to her own time. I begged her to lay down while Faith slept and then left her. I walked through the lower level appreciating everything Joe had done to the house. It was spectacular. I threw logs into the fireplace in the parlor and then ran for the ringing phone.

“Joe?”

“So it’s true. You’ve come back. Thank God you’re safe.”

“Baritone!” Are you coming? Please say you’re coming!”

“I am pulling up to the parking garage at the airport as we speak trying to overcome my shock at hearing your voice. Are you alright Claire?”

My chin was quivering so hard I grabbed it to hold it steady. “I lost…and then they were…I found the stones… red coats drew their weapons….found our cave…Jamie died today.” I gripped my stomach and bent over to endure the sobs that came. Baritone kept talking to me about things that were non- threatening. He kept up a steady stream of chatter that finally calmed me down.

The voice changed and it was Joe talking to me in his soothing big brother voice. They were boarding a plane in London for a one and a half hour flight. I gripped the phone like a lifeline and whined myself back into sobbing when Joe had to hang up. The plane was taking off for Scotland. I put the phone on the counter and stared at it. The popping fireplace sounded like home and it calmed me, so I just stood in the kitchen and listened. I realized that this was the hardest day of my life and I was not in my right mind. I walked into the parlor and sat on the couch staring at the fire feeling the tears roll down my cheeks.

Someone was calling my name. Two voices calling me and my eyes flew open looking for Jamie. I ran into the kitchen and right into Joe’s chest feeling his arms come around me and hold me possessively. He didn’t let me go but walked me back to the couch and gently pushed me down. I looked at him and felt my heart in my throat. My friend, my dearest friend was here, holding my hands and smiling.

Baritone kissed my cheek making me look up at his beautiful face. He was even more breathtaking than before and he looked at me with such compassion. My brain must have shut down because all I could do is look from one to the other. When I finally said something it was ridiculous.

“These are lad’s clothes because I had to climb to the cave over and over this morning and my corset was about to kill me.”

Joe nodded his head like he understood completely. “You found the rock pet.”

“In the pouring rain, it melted the dirt and sand from the rocks, and they were bright blue, so I took them all and begged Brimstone to gallop for all she was worth.” Remembering the scene when I arrived at the cave stole my voice again and made my heart pound.

Joe rubbed my arm and spoke in an upbeat tone. “And when you got back you pulled everyone to your own time?”

“I had one chance to get to them and I was so scared. I started a couple of times and then went back behind the tree. The soldiers were going to make Murtagh watch and then kill him too. I just ran for them when the soldiers were distracted. I shouted for everyone to hold hands tightly and not to let go. I saw the rifles pointed at my head and then heard the wind in my ears as we were pulled away.”

“Jesus Pet. That just happened today and look at you holding the world up for your group. You are amazing.”

I looked at Joe and thought, really? I’m amazing even though I feel shattered and small at the moment? Baritone fetched a whiskey bottle and glasses and we all had two shots in front of the fire. Joe never let go of my hands and Baritone did not leave my back. As the whisky warmed me on the insides I started to relax until I heard Faith cry. I ran to the stairs and found Glavia making her way down. Faith held her arms out to me and I hugged her close.

Glavia stood ramrod still when she saw Joe and Baritone. They both stood while I introduced them and urged Glavia to join us for a whisky and talk. The next one to show himself was Murtagh and I was so happy to see him, pouring his drink and introducing everyone. Joe and Baritone were very nice to everyone, but they could not take their eyes off Faith. She was well-rested and full of happy energy when she stood up in my lap. She looked closely at Joe and babbled at him quite insistently pointing her finger at him. We laughed at her antics until she lunged herself at Joe. He caught her easily and let her sit in his lap. It was obvious Joe was not doing what she wanted so she pressed her head against his chest sitting very still.

I watched my darling girl and wondered if she was looking for a voice she knew from some other time. I asked Joe to talk continuously for a few minutes and nodded to Faith. He launched into everything that happened since I walked through the stones. Faith kept her little head pressed to his chest, eyes drooping as she listened. When she was sound asleep Joe just held her sleeping form, and I was loving him for it. Baritone asked if she normally goes to all new people. I explained my theory, she was looking for the voice she heard daily as she grew in my womb. “That must be what he sounded like when we would cuddle in the morning.”

“This is the first time I haven’t been totally pissed off hearing about that because it’s so fascinating.”

Baritone showed bigger changes than Joe. Maybe because I knew him less in the beginning, but he had definitely changed. Confidence had replaced the confused Brainiac, and his body had filled out quite nicely. They were both stunningly handsome, confident in their own skin, and radiated love for each other. I felt the bottom of my stomach fall and my tears gush as I dropped my head and looked at my lap. I cried openly and Joe squeezed my hand encouraging me to let it out.

“Jamie’s dead. They took him a month ago and pressed him to service. He led his men into battle today, at Culloden Moore and he’s bleeding out on the field right now and doesn’t know how much I love him.”

It was the horrifying image in my head, all day, and I spoke of it before I knew what I was doing. I saw Joe reach into his pocket for a small bottle of pills while Baritone filled my glass with a shot of whisky. I picked my glass up, only to have Joe press it back to the table.

“Not so fast pet, we all need a glass so we can toast.”

Joe put something back in his pocket and filled the glasses, then we toasted to our safe landing while the tears continued to run down my cheeks. I noticed Murtagh was watching me and I tried to smile through my watery vision. I looked at him and saw Jamie right next to him smiling at me. He said, “I love ye, I need ye, please help me Sassenach.”

I gasped and shot up from the couch feeling my legs give way and strong arms pulling me up. I was in the dark feeling peaceful when I heard his beautiful voice. He was calling to me, asking for help, saying he didn’t want to leave me. I was face to face with Jamie in the blackness. He told me I was heroic today and he was never so proud. Then he told me that Donus and Brimstone would starve. He asked if I could take them to the new world. “Please Sassenach.” I promised I would. He told me to never return in the light of day, they were waiting for me, but it was safe at night. He touched my face.

“I will hang on until I know yer safe mo chridhe, save the horses.”

I fell into the black velvet and Jamie held my hand for a long time. "Wake Sassenach!" I sat upright on my bed blinking my eyes in the dark. I smelled Jamie and knew he was with me. I felt my way to the bag of stones thinking I would walk over hot coals to save the horses. When I felt two shards, I put them in my palms and closed my eyes concentrating on Lallybroch in 1745.

The wind lifted me and carried me far away very fast setting me down in the field near the house. I stayed low and worked my way to a tree behind the barn, watching. When I started to move to the barn, I heard Jamie’s voice say “wait!” I froze and dropped to the ground. A red coat came out of the house and pulled his horse that was tied in the dooryard. He mounted and rode away. I let out the breath I was holding and continued to watch. My fear was taking over and I shook with it. “Don’t be afraid, take the horses mo chridhe.”

I ran to the barn panting with the effort. I threw their tack on, saddles, pads, and bridles tying the reins in a knot. Then I attached leads to both, pulling them out of their stalls to stand in front of me. I placed a shard in each palm and pressed them against each horse's chest, concentrating on Lallybroch in 2019. I had wrapped the leads around my waist so they would not separate from me and quickly pulled the ropes away and led them to the barn. We were back and it was daylight. I carried buckets to an outside spigot and hauled the water back for them looking around for some stored food, finding none.

“I know you guys are hungry and I promise to get you food right away.” I hugged them both and left the barn, looking around the estate for the first time. The fields were planted! As far as the eye could see rows were plowed into the dirt in preparation for the spring seeding. Joe was a marvel with all he had done which included leasing the fields for planting. It was time to wake him up to find some food for the horses and people now in my charge.

I looked at the jeep parked on the side of the house, probably there to avoid shocking someone who wandered outside for some air. I smiled, which felt so foreign to my face. I was still high on Jamie helping me and looked up at the sky like I would see him looking down. I started to cry and forced myself to walk back to the house.

Murtagh was sitting in the kitchen with a beer and fruit juice opened in front of him. He startled when I walked in and his face looked so sad. He got up and hugged me for a long time. I knew both of our hearts were breaking and I hugged him back.

“The horses are here, in the barn. Jamie woke me up and said they were starving so I went and got them.”

Murtagh looked shocked and then stern. “No more of that lassie, home must be crawlin with red coats and what would we all do if you get yerself killed?”

“I am going to teach you what to do, just in case. Someone besides me needs to know the way back. Besides, I was safe with Jamie last night.”

Murtagh looked at her with sympathy and shook his head wondering why the stones allowed her passage when Jamie would be killed in less than two short years. He would choke the life out of the witch when he returned. “I’m goin out to check on the horses, lass.”

I felt Murtagh move away from me but didn’t hear where he was going. I built a fire to add some normalcy to the morning as people came downstairs after a night’s sleep. Misses Crook practically ran downstairs with a look of fear. She had slept right through the afternoon and evening and must have been startled in this strange place. I hugged her and begged her to relax and trust me. She walked into the kitchen and called me a few minutes later.

“I found no cauldren and where do I make the fire?”

“Well, they never make fires in the kitchen in this time.” I bent down to pull out the biggest pot in the cabinet and placed it on a burner. I opened all the cabinets looking for dried goods and soups. When I found the container of oatmeal, I read the directions, poured hot water into the pan and sprinkled a quarter of the oatmeal into the boiling water. Finding hot pads, I moved the pan to a cold burner and stirred the oatmeal. The whole operation took ten minutes.

Misses Crook watched everything I did and then looked into the pot and gasped. “What is this, magic? I’ll no be cavortin with the devil to make breakfast, ye can be sure of that.”

I stopped her gently and explained it was simply advanced technology and food science and had nothing to do with the devil. I filled a bowl for her and encouraged her to eat it. She was so overwhelmed, and I saw her eyes, red-rimmed, for the first time since our meeting a year ago. She was so scared and my heart broke for her.

“Let me show you how to make coffee. It’s fun and fast.”

I told her what to pull out, how to measure, and fill the pot with water, then pour it into the machine and turn it on. She seemed to do better when she was put to a task. I would have to remember that.

“Misses Crook, I brought the horses here last night and they are starving. I would bet a paycheck someone grew alfalfa in one of those fields last year.”

“What is a paycheck. What is alfalfa?”

“It’s horse food actually. When they harvest it, some people turn it into cubes with a large machine called a combine.”

I knew it was hopeless to make her understand such a leap in technology, so I grabbed her hand and pulled her outside. It was warm enough to go without cloaks, so I nudged her toward the field and started looking for the cubed food leftover from last year. I knew there was a lot of spillage and it would have been frozen through the winter. We might get lucky and find a field with leftovers from last year’s harvest. We hunted, crossing two fields before Misses Crook yelled for me. She held a perfect Alfalfa cube in her hand, and I let out a whoop with a smile.

It was on. Like an Easter egg hunt, we searched the field for more cubes. Murtagh came to ask what was lost and we filled him in. Misses Crook’s cheeks were pink from the cool morning and her excitement. Glavia waved her hand from the kitchen door and I ran for my daughter.

“What is happening in the field?”

“We discovered horse food cubes and the horses are starving.”

She watched Murtagh lift a cube in the air with a rare smile on his face. I sat on the stairs to the kitchen and laid Faith at my breast.

"Glavia, we could use your sharp eye to find more."

She was smiling with excitement and took off running for the field. As Faith filled her little belly, I watched the three of them get lost in this game with smiles and laughter making them forget for a little while.

“Morning Pet, how is my girl today, good?”

So like Joe to provide the only answer that was acceptable. He looked out at the field and three people dancing around holding something up in the air. He blinked several times and asked me what they were doing.

“I brought two starving horses back last night and they are finding food for them. It was a great thing you did, leasing out the fields for growing. You are brilliant Joe.”

He looked me in the eye for a long minute. “Are there two horses in that barn now?”

When I nodded yes, he took a deep breath. “Where did they come from?”

“I went back and got them because they would have died.”

Joe put up his hand to stop me and then put his hand around mine. “Pet, did you go back to 1745 last night to bring these horses back.”

“Yes.”

His eyes were closed for almost a minute as he wrapped his head around my truth. I realized he had believed everything I had told him so far. At least I thought he did.

“Take me, please.”

“I cannot during the day. There are many red coats waiting for me so we can only go at night. I will take you Joe.”

I felt a tear slide down my cheek and then another. My heart ached to kiss Jamie good morning and the pain that pressed on me, knowing I never would again, crushed me to my tears. I asked Joe to help in the field, looking for cubes. I needed to lay Faith down in her bed and then sob into a pillow.

Joe ran for the field and I carried Faith to her bed before laying in Jamie’s room where I let it go. My body shook with my sobbing and I felt a warm hand on my back that was so comforting and so familiar.

"Jamie! Jaaamiiiieee! I can’t bear this pain, I want to go with you! Please God let me die with him.”

I felt him pull me down and his warmth wrap around me. I could hear his breathing in my ear until I fell asleep, a dreamless, healing sleep that lasted for hours.

“Help me Sassenach.” I heard his voice in my dream and panicked myself awake. I sat up on the bed and noticed the room was darker with the late afternoon. I stumbled downstairs and blinked at everyone sitting in the kitchen together while Faith entertained. When she saw me her arms were raised. “ma-ma-ma-uppy”

I pulled her to my breast, wishing I could feel Jamie now, so he would know I was taking care of his daughter. Instead, I just blinked at everyone while Baritone filled the kitchen with the delicious smells of lasagna and garlic bread. I figured someone had gone shopping and wondered how the jeep was received.

“The horses,” I said as my memory of searching for food came back.

Misses Crook beamed and announced they had found enough cubes to last several days.

“I ordered from the feed store in Edinburgh Pet. It will be here tomorrow. I didn’t know what to get so I asked for grain, and hay.”

He was watching Faith nurse and I kissed his hand. “Thank you.”

A plate was set in front of me and I put a forkful in my mouth. It was so delicious I closed my eyes and I chewed while my mind filled with images of Jamie on the battlefield. My eyes slammed open and I shot out of my chair. How could I eat and enjoy food when Jamie never would again?

Faith was out for the night, so I made my way to Jamie’s bed, holding the pillow in front of me, clinging to it. I knew then I could not bear this pain for long. It would kill me and that would be a relief. Somewhere far away I heard the word “NO” whispered on the wind. I laid in the dark and prayed that Jamie would feel my love.

I was dreaming of teaching Faith to count hay cubes when I heard him, “Sassenach, wake up.”

I could not see the hand in front of my face it was so dark. My feet touched the floor and I felt him calling me back to Lallybroch. “Jamie, are you alive?” A whispered “help” was what I heard. I jumped off the bed and grabbed my bag stopping suddenly when Joe’s request came back to me. I searched the house for him finally finding the basement room that he converted into a bedroom. I approached the bed and touched Joe. He gasped and turned to see me.

“Pet.”

“I am going back tonight. Do you want to go?”

He was pulling his clothes on within seconds, feeling around for his shoes. He said nothing. He stayed very close, and when I told him to cling to me, he did.

The same rushing in my ears and feeling jettisoned away while I held tight to Joe’s arms. We landed in the field outside Lallybroch and I pushed Joe to the ground. He was hyperventilating and I whispered, “breathe slowly Joe.” I waited until his breathing normalized and felt him grip me in the pitch dark.

“Did we go back in time Pet?”

I had scanned the property looking for red coats and barely heard him. I could tell it was much later in the night when this land is devoid of movement or sounds from a human. My eye caught something new in the dooryard and I squinted to make the shape out.

“Help”

I took off running as fast as I could. Not looking for red coats, not caring if I was shot in the next minute. Jamie was in that shape, a wagon, asking me for help. I ran up on the wagon, left in the front of the house. I jumped inside and fell on his back, listening for breath. I knew there would be red coats laying in wait around the property, so I was silent. Joe was next to me somehow, he flipped Jamie over and felt his neck. He whispered in my ear, “take us all back right now Pet.”

I pulled Jamie onto my outstretched legs and linked my arm in Joe’s as the shard was pulled from my pocket and my eyes closed to the image of modern Lallybroch. As we were pulled away at warp speed I clung to Jamie and Joe, praying we found him in time.

In the yard of 2019 Lallybroch, Joe went to work on Jamie. He grabbed my hand and begged me to get Baritone and then go to my room. I took off for the lower bedroom bursting in to find Baritone sitting on the edge of the bed. I pointed, “Joe needs you, please.”

Baritone passed me in a streak and I stood there, panting, wanting to go to Jamie but Joe made me promise to stay away. He was already a doctor and I had to put my absolute trust in him. I waited until I heard them bring him in. It sounded like they were in the kitchen. My ears strained to hear each word and nuance and the tears came down.

“Jamie, can you hear me? Are you with me? Jamie!”

“I am fighting.”

I grabbed the wall as I spun to the floor. I heard Murtagh’s voice, yelling at Jamie and I couldn’t stand it anymore. I ran to the kitchen and saw all the men around Jamie. Baritone was doing chest compression while Joe was breathing for Jamie.

“Oh dear God,” I ran to the table where they had laid Jamie. On the other side of Joe, I put my mouth next to his ear and told him how proud I was that he survived and came back to me. I poured my love into his ear and did not let myself speak any negative, just encouragement to fight, for me, for Faith, for our promises. I did not notice all that Joe was doing and how Baritone and Murtagh were helping. I was alone with my husband speaking my love and my faith in him, feeling drunk on the hope he would take a breath on his own.

“Jamie?”

“My love.” Was but a whisper.

“Fill your lungs with air, RIGHT NOW!”

Jamie made a strangulated sound as his chest rose and he breathed deeply. Joe was overjoyed and pressed a stethoscope to his chest and pressed a finger to his neck.

I had pressed Jamie’s head against mine, like I wouldn’t allow him to leave me. With the jubilation in the kitchen, Jamie and I held each other in the blissful quiet of a secret place in my mind. His hands held me close, shaking at first, then gradually feeling stronger, possessive. He gripped me to him and whispered, “my beauty.”

[bee-kathony]

The Oath | Ch. 28 “I’d pick you a thousand times” 

a/n: thank you so so much for reading and commenting! This chapter has been a long time coming, but I’m so pleased with it so I hope you enjoy xx

Arc I | Ch. 16 | Ch. 17 | Ch. 18 | Ch. 19 | Ch. 20 | Ch. 21 | Ch. 22 | Ch. 23 | Ch. 24 | Ch. 25 | Ch. 26 | Ch. 27

June 16th, 2020

A warm breeze blew through the open window of the second story at Lallybroch. It lifted a stray curl off of Claire’s shoulder, making her shiver. Glancing in the mirror, she was shocked at her appearance. Her makeup was light and natural, with a subtle shade of pink lipstick and eyeshadow to compliment her amber eyes. The curls that normally were untamable had decided to cooperate today, and were piled in a loose bun at the back of her head.

Claire was getting married today.

It would be a small affair, only forty people or so. The garden at Lallybroch had been decorated beautifully — twinkling lights hung from trees, a rock path towards the arch greenery she had helped cultivate over the past few months.

Murtgah had registered to become ordained and would be marrying them — he’d been practicing his lines all week. Jamie and Claire had written their own vows, vows that Claire had been writing for weeks.

Dabbing another swipe of blush across her cheek, Claire was satisfied with her makeup. She stood up from the dressing table, and walked over to the wardrobe, pulling out her dress. It was a cream colored satin with a low cut swooping back, a cinched waist with ten small buttons starting at her hips and short sleeves. The fit was elegant and showed off her best assets, highlighting her long legs as it just touched the ground when she wore her heels.

“Are ye ready to get into that?” Jenny asked from across the room. She laid Kitty down on bed and rose to help Claire.

“I suppose at some point I should,” Claire grinned and began to undo the few buttons at the waist. “I can’t believe I found this dress on the sale rack.”

“It’s beautiful,” Jenny commented. “But ye ken, Jamie would like ye in a potato sack!”

Laughing at the truth of Jenny’s statement, Claire dropped her robe, laying it on a chair nearby. The close fit of the dress and material made it nearly impossible to wear undergarments — which she was sure Jamie would have no problem with later.

Jenny held out the dress, and helped her step into it, pulling it up along her body. It fit like a glove, and Claire slid her arms into the sleeves, situating it. She waited for Jenny to close up the buttons in the back before walking over towards the mirror.

“I guess I couldn’t really wear white,” Claire commented and looked over at her nine month old daughter laying on the bed with her cousin. She smiled as she looked at her daughter, adorned with the cutest sand colored flower girl dress.

“Och, who cares if ye wear white or no’?” Jenny said as she straightened the sleeves of Claire’s dress. “Tis no’ like anyone here kens that ye havena had a bairn wi’ the man yer about to marry. White will wash ye out anyway,” Jenny grinned into the mirror.

“You’re right,” Claire commented, smoothing out her dress. Her hands were shaking slightly, the nerves creeping in.

“No’ gettin’ any cold feet are we now?” Jenny commented on her shaky hands.

“No,” Claire shook her head. “In fact, my feet are a bit sweaty.”

“I’ll go and turn down the AC, dinna fash,” Jenny said and left Claire on her own, making sure to shut the door — Jamie was somewhere in the house, getting ready as well.

++++++

“Taing Dhia for kilts,” Jamie said, wiping his brow. “They let in a nice wee breeze on yer bollocks.”

“I’ve never been more grateful to no’ be wearin’ any underwear,” Murtagh remarked, stretching himself out on the bed.

The men — Jamie, Murtagh, and Ian were gathered in one of the guest rooms on the bottom floor while Claire was upstairs in the Laird’s room. Jamie had barely slept last night, mainly because Claire and him had decided to stay in separate rooms the night before the wedding and also because he was so excited.

He could remember every detail about the night they had met at this very house almost a year and a half ago. The fuzzy sweater Claire had worn to match her fuzzy head of hair. The puff of breath as she stood out in the cold, her arms wrapped around herself to keep warm. Jamie had watched her for several minutes before deciding to say something. She had moved a curl behind her ear, and his fingers had twitched, wondering what that felt like.

From the moment he laid eyes on Claire Beauchamp, his heart belonged to her. Who knew it would take a one night stand, a baby and a lawsuit to finally be able to call her his wife?

“And yer new bride will be thankful for the lack of underwear as well,” Ian smirked, bumping him on the shoulder as he passed.

“Och, come on lads, tis no’ like I’m a virgin on my weddin’ day,” Jamie snorted and leaned back in his chair.

“We ken that much,” Murtagh said. “Ye’ve the sweetest bairn that came out of what ye and Claire did before ye were marrit.”

“Speakin’ of bairns, are ye and Claire goin’ to have any more of them? Young Jamie was just askin’ me the other day when he would get a new cousin,” Ian said.

“We havena talked in great lengths of havin’ another bairn, but Claire and I want another for sure. We just have to make it past our weddin’ day before we decide anythin’ else,” Jamie replied.

Jamie rose and walked over to pour himself a dram, glancing at the clock on the bedside table. Only thirty more minutes before the ceremony began — thirty more minutes that felt like eternity.

“If ye’ll excuse me lads,” Jamie downed his drink. “I’m just goin’ to the bathroom so I dinna wet myself up at the front.”

“Hurry back,” Murtagh said in a sing song voice.

Chuckling to himself, Jamie walked out of the room, but instead of going to the bathroom, he made his way up the stairs and towards the Laird’s room. He could hear Jenny talking inside and then footsteps approached the door. He jumped out of the way and hid around the corner, hearing Jenny tell Claire she would be right back.

Once Jenny was out of sight, Jamie knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Claire said and Jamie opened the door.

“Jamie!” Claire gasped. “What are you doing in here? It’s bad luck!”

“My eyes are closed, Sassenach!” Jamie said, covering his eyes with his hand for extra precaution. “I just came to talk to ye for a minute.”

He couldn’t see her, but he reached out his hand for her and gently, her fingers slid into his hand.

“Is Madeline in here?” Jamie asked.

“Yes she’s on the bed with Kitty, and thankfully she hasn’t seen you yet.”

“I’ll be quick, I promise, Sassenach,” Jamie said.

“Turn around,” Claire said. “I don’t want to take any chances.”

“Alright,” he grinned and did as she said, still holding onto her hand.

“Well,” Claire gripped his hand. “What did you have to say to me that couldn’t wait until after we were married? You’re not coming in to tell me you’ve fallen in love with another woman are you?”

“God no, a nighean,” he squeezed her fingers. “My heart is already owned by two bonnie lasses. It’s me that should be concerned about ye catchin’ the attention of another man and runnin’ away wi’ him. Ye look beautiful, Claire.”

“I thought you had your eyes closed!” Claire squeaked.

“I did!” Jamie said. “I didna see ye I swear it, but I just ken that ye look beautiful in yer dress. Any man would be lucky to have ye, and so I suppose what I’m tryin’ to say here is that I’m grateful for ye pickin’ me.”

“Oh, Jamie,” Claire rubbed his hand with her thumb. “I’d pick you a thousand times.”

“I also just wanted to come and talk to ye about our parents,” Jamie said softly. He could hear Claire’s intake of breath, and his own heart was clenched, remembering that they couldn’t be here today.

“I ken that we both want nothin’ more for our Mam’s and Da’s to be here wi’ us today, and for yer Da to walk ye down the aisle. For yer Mam to give ye somethin’ blue or somethin’ borrowed. I wish my parents were here to see Madeline,” he sniffed, a tear falling down his cheek. “I wish more than anything that she had her grandparents here so they could spoil her rotten and love her more than they love us.”

“I want that too, Jamie,” Claire said through what sounded like tears of her own.

“They are here wi’ us, Sassenach. I can feel them, can’t ye?” He asked her.

“I can,” she squeezed his hand. “I want to kiss you very badly right now.”

“Will a hug do?” He asked. “I promise to keep my eyes closed the whole time.”

Claire let go of his hand then, and he could tell she was standing in front of him. All it would take would be to open his eye slightly and he could see her, but for Claire’s sake he kept them closed. Both her arms wrapped around his waist, and her head pressed against his chest. They both sighed, sharing in each other’s pain and heartache. Sometimes the happiest days were also the hardest.

“You should leave before Jenny comes back,” Claire said as she released him. “Besides, it won’t be long now before I walk down the aisle.”

“The last thing I need is Jenny twisting my arm,” Jamie chuckled. Claire placed her hand on his lower back and helped to guide him out of the room.

“I’ll see you soon, my love,” she said.

“I’ll see ye soon, mo chridhe,” Jamie grinned and turned around, waiting for the sound of the door closing.

As he started walking down the hallway, Jenny came from the other direction, her eyes squinted, staring at him.

“Where did ye just come from, James Fraser?” She pointed a finger at him. “I ken it wasna Claire’s room because that’s bad luck before a weddin’.”

“I kept my eyes closed the whole time, Janet,” Jamie laughed and then Jenny took hold of his earlobe between her fingers.

“Ye rascal, ye leave that girl alone! Ye’ll have her all to yerself for the next week. Let her dress in peace,” she scolded him. Then she let go of his ear and fluffed up his hair, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek. “I’m happy that ye couldna wait to see her, Jamie, but ye better not have peeked at the dress or I’ll have yer throat.”

“I didna!” He held up both hands. “Now, if ye’ll excuse me, I best be gettin’ back to my own room.” Jamie kissed his sister on the cheek, avoiding her swatting hands and made his way back to his own room.

“That was the longest piss break,” Murtagh said as soon as he came back into the room. “Did ye fall in?”

“Oh, shut it ye old clot,” Jamie smirked. He glanced at the clock, ten minutes to go. “I suppose I should be puttin’ on my boots now and makin’ my way to the alter.”

“If ye want to get marrit, then aye ye should,” Ian laughed.

Jamie was supposed to carry Madeline down the aisle, but she was still in the room with Claire and Jenny.

“Ian, can ye go find yer wife and tell her I need Madeline and that we’re about to head outside?” Jamie asked.

“Aye, I’ll be back,” Ian dashed out of the room.

Murtagh finally sat up from the bed and walked over to Jamie, straightening his tie. “Yer parents would be proud of ye, Jamie. Not just of the beautiful bride and child ye have, but of the success of the business as well.”

“Thank ye, Murtagh,” Jamie smiled. “It means a lot comin’ from ye.”

“Dinna thank me just yet,” the older man smirked. “There’s still time for me to mess up my part of the weddin’.”

“Ye’ve only a few lines,” Jamie shook his head. “Try no’ to mess it up for Claire’s sake.”

“Och, nah. I’d do anything for the lass,” Murtagh said. “Now, let’s go and get ye properly hitched.”

The two men walked out into the hallway and were met by Ian who was holding Madeline and Kitty in his arms. Maggie and Young Jamie were with Geillis in the living room, trying to keep entertained while they waited. Maggie would walk down with Kitty as flower girls while Jamie carried Mads seeing as how she still wasn’t able to walk yet.

“Give me my pretty lass,” Jamie held out his hands for Madeline, taking the smiling child. “Ye look so beautiful a leannan.”

“Daghsshg,” Madeline blubbered.

“That sounded like Da to me,” Jamie kissed her nose. “Let’s go marry yer mam.”

++++++

Everything had gone smoothly so far. The children had managed to walk down the aisle without falling, and Madeline hadn’t fussed while Jamie carried her. At least that’s what Geillis told Claire as they waited for their cue. Geillis was Claire’s made of honor, and Jenny another bridesmaid.

“I think tis yer turn, Jenny,” Geillis said and Jenny walked out of the house, towards the garden area.

“I can’t believe it’s finally happening,” Claire smiled.

“I canna either. Ye two have been through hell, but ye made it out the other side,” her friend hugged her, trying not to cry.

“Who knows, maybe you and Lily are next!” Claire grinned.

“Who knows,” Geillis winked and then turned for her cue to walk outside.

Claire took several deep breaths, and gripped the bouquet of forget-me-nots tightly. A man cleared his throat beside her and she looked over to see her Uncle Lamb. He told her that he couldn’t make it, due to being in quarantine after getting sick while on an excavation in Egypt. She hadn’t seen him in over two years.

“Lamb!” Claire shouted and threw her arms around his neck. He grabbed her, holding her close.

“My Claire,” he smiled, lifting her off the ground. “I wouldn’t miss this day for the world, and for the chance to meet my great niece.”

“I thought you couldn’t come! I thought you were still sick and recovering?” Claire said, looking him over. He looked a little pale and a light sheen of sweat was on his forehead, but that could have been the heat outside.

“I was released from quarantine two months ago, but still laid up in the hospital. I didna want to get your hopes up my dear and tell you I could come when I wasn’t too sure,” he said. “It was touch and go there, but I’m here now and I’m going to walk you down the aisle.”

“I love you Lamb,” Claire hugged him. “I can’t wait for you to meet Madeline, and Jamie!”

“Well, it will be happening pretty soon, looks like its our turn,” Lamb took her arm, looping it through his. If Claire couldn’t have her father walk her down the aisle, she was perfectly happy with her favorite uncle in the whole world.

The garden was beautiful, and as Claire and Lamb walked outside and towards the garden, she felt tears spring to her eyes already. Every step towards Jamie was a step closer toward her future. As they turned the corner, she saw him — Fraser kilt on and everything.

He took her breath away, and she focused on his beaming face as she approached the alter Claire was gripping Lamb’s arm so tight that he winced and she laughed, letting go a bit. Looking over to her left, she saw Madeline in Geillis’ arms, smiling and waving at her.

“Hi little miss,” Claire smiled at her daughter before turning her attention back to Jamie.

“Sassenach,” Jamie said, his voice strained as if he’d been crying.

“This is my Uncle Lamb,” Claire said proudly as her uncle handed Jamie Claire’s arm.

“Tis a pleasure to meet ye sir, I’m sure we’ll have a chance to catch up later, but now,” he looked at Claire. “I’d like to marry yer niece.”

“She’s all yours,” Lamb grinned and kissed Claire’s cheek before finding his seat up front.

“Ye may be seated,” Murtagh said from the front. “Today, we are gathered to witness the union — finally — of Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp and James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser,” he said. “Ye’ve a lot of names lad.”

Everyone laughed and then Murtagh continued with the ceremony. A moment later it came time for their vows and Geillis handed Claire her vows and Ian handed Jamie his vows.

“Jamie,” Clarie read, glancing from her paper to Jamie and smiled. “Our life so far has been complicated. Beyond complicated, but that doesn’t mean that it hasn’t been worth it. Every second with you is not enough and I pray to God that I can have an infinite amount of seconds to spend with you. You make me laugh, smile, cry and happier than I could have ever imagined.” Claire sniffed and wiped her nose. Jamie was gripping her free hand so tightly it was fit to fall off.

“Not only have you made me the happiest woman on earth, but you’ve given me the greatest gift on earth — our daughter, Madeline. She was unexpected,” Claire laughed and someone in the crowd whistled. “But she is everything to me now and I couldn’t picture my life without her, or without you. I love you so much, Jamie Fraser.”

“I love ye, Claire,” Jamie smiled. “Och, my turn.”

Jamie cleared his throat and looked down at his paper and then looked at Claire with such devotion.

“Sassenach, mo chridhe, mo nighean donn, Claire,” he said softly. “I love that ye get cold when it’s twenty-one degrees outside. I love that it takes ye an hour to order a sandwich. I love that ye get a wee crinkle above yer nose when yer lookin’ at me like I’m a loon. I love that when I hug ye, I can still smell yer perfume on my clothes later that night. Yer the last person I want to talk to when I go to sleep and the first person I want to kiss when I wake up,” Jamie said. He’d written his vows weeks ago, but memorized every word.

“Things havena always been easy or perfect, but life isna perfect. It’s messy, and tis goin’ to have roadblocks, but there’s nobody else I would rather face those roadblocks wi’ than ye, Sassenach. Ye truly are blood of my blood and bone of my bone and I’ll love ye until my very last breath,” Jamie smiled and squeezed both of Claire’s hands.

“Beautiful,” Murtagh smiled. “We’ll now have the exchanging of the rings.”

Young Jamie came forward and held out a small wooden box that contained both of their rings.

“Thank ye lad,” Jamie grinned down at his namesake. He then took Claire’s wedding band and held it on her left ring finger and repeated after Murtagh. Jamie then slipped the ring on to Claire’s hand and Claire followed the same steps.

“It is by the power vested in me by the internet,” Murtagh grinned. “I now pronounce ye husband and wife. Ye may kiss yer bride!”

Cheers went up all around them, but all Claire focused on was Jamie. He cupped her cheeks, pulling her close to him and kissed her deeply. Slowly, he bent her over backwards, making the cheering sound louder.

++++++

The garden was transformed into a dance floor, and after Jamie and Claire had said their thanks for everyone coming to celebrate with them, Jamie took his new bride out for their first dance.

“If I havena said it already, ye look beautiful, Sassenach,” Jamie kissed her.

“Thank you,” she grinned. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

The song You Make Me Feel So Young by Frank Sinatra came over the speakers.

“May I have this dance milady?” Jamie asked.

“You may,” Claire grinned, taking his hand and resting her other on his shoulder.

You make me feel so young You make me feel as though spring has sprung And every time I see you grin I'm such a happy individual

Jamie spun his wife around, twirling her and then wrapped his arms around her, singing along to the song.

The moment that you speak I wanna go play hide and seek I wanna go and bounce the moon Just like a toy balloon You and I are just like a couple of tots Runnin' across the meadow Pickin' up lots of forget me nots

“Jamie and Claire would now ask that everyone who’s in love or every has been would come and join them on the dance floor,” their DJ said into the mic.

Jenny came over to them in the middle of the dance floor, carrying Madeline and handed her to Jamie.

“Now, I’ve got my best lasses. All is right in the world,” he kissed Madeline’s cheek.

Claire placed her hand on Madeline’s back and together they swayed to the music as a family. Laughing as Madeline clapped her hands together, Claire had never felt so happy in all her life.

“Sassenach,” Jamie grinned. “Ye werena the first lass I kissed, but I swear ye’ll be the last.”

He bent his head to kiss her, but then at the last second turned and placed a sloppy wet kiss on Madeline’s cheek.

“She’s the only other girl I’ll let you kiss,” Claire laughed and then cupped his cheek. “Now kiss me, husband.”

Chapter 29: Santorini

#the oath #outlander fanfic #jamie x claire #chapter 28 #i'd pick you a thousand times #outlander #outlander fanfiction

[dragon-fics]

SR: Ch. 1 A Hard Climb

Chapter Summary: Alys begins her search outside Ilirea grappling her way through stony terrain and cliffs before finally finding a cave late that night, with the dragon she’s searching for.

Prologue, Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3

Alys gripped the cold stone, her fingers aching and her shoulders sore. Why hadn’t she taken Murtagh’s offer? Flying over this finger-tearing and boot-wearing landscape would have made her search so much easier.

But alas, she had said no, and no one was going to fly out and find her until sunset.

She looked down, holding onto the grey stone with one hand buried in a crevice just big enough to hold her. She was only a few feet off the ground, but this was her third hard climb this morning in this dark, overgrown, rocky forest—how so much vegetation grew here was a mystery. And from what she could see a league away in the small village she was staying in, these climbs went on for another few leagues, at least.

Alys sighed, looking at the beams of sunlight gracefully blessing the lush forest floor through the thick branches and leaves of the canopy above. Was that the universe trying to show her some sign of hope? Or was it telling her that there was a slim chance she’d actually find this dragon? And even then the chances of them siding with her were even slimmer—like the few flowers she’d seen among the ferns and dock leaves.

She hated to admit it but maybe it was right, maybe she should have been smarter and listened to Ugauc when he sensed something up, instead of being curious and—

Alys cut off that thought and turned around, the swelling growing in her throat again. Not now! She reached her other hand up and found a nook to use to lever herself upward.

She had thought about using magic to get to the top, to teleport herself or to fly herself up, but that felt lazy as though finding the dragon that way would decrease her chances even more or getting them to join her. She wanted to prove herself as a worthy rider to this dragon, to prove she was willing to go above and beyond to help them recover from their loss.

“But is that the best way to do it?” Alys thought aloud—after all the only things to hear her would be the squirrels and crows. “To force them to bind with someone else?”

“I’m not going to force them!” she hissed at herself. “I’m going to give them and option and prove that their addition to the Dragon Riders will be the most helpful.”

But then she realised what she said. She pulled herself onto the plateau and looked up at the next steep climb—it was four times her height. “I can’t just guilt-trip them either,” she said, bundling up her dreadlocks and tying them up with a hair-tie. “I have to prove that we can help them, whether they bond to me or not.”

“But what if they don’t like the thought of being tied to any one person or place?” She shook out her arms and walked on the squidgy moss and under the shadows of the tree to the next cliff to climb. “What if they’d just rather stay here?” Her cloud of uncertainty and despair grew darker.

Alys gripped the stone, finding crevices to lock her fingers into and pulled herself off the ground. “Then I guess I can respect that,” she said, staring at the pale grey stone as she grappled her way up.

She huffed, hoping the spell she cast earlier that morning would work and she wouldn’t have bloody fingers by this evening. “But I still want to help them,” she said. “Umaroth said they were suffering; so surely there’s more than a broken bond that’s hurting them, right? So maybe I can help them with that first? At least then I’d feel better knowing I helped them.”

She sighed and dragged herself up onto the next plateau, her fingers felt like they were nothing with nerves and bone. The tips of her fingers were swollen and in utter agony. “Barzûl,” she swore. She drew in a breath and without uttering a word, her fingertips tingled, and the pain faded; they looked as though she’d barely been climbing at all. Alys bobbed her head, satisfied and started towards the next cliff; this one was five times her height.

She paused and sighed. “For the dragon,” she said, her face hardening. She took a step forward. “For the dragon,” she echoed, reaching for the next crevice to dig her fingers into.

Alys’ climb was long and hard, and she argued with herself the whole way up about the morality of convincing a broken dragon to bond with her, to the point where when she finally stood in front of a cave—the cave the Eldunarí had showed her—she lingered, wondering whether going in was a good idea or not.

The mouth of the cave was huge; as big as the door to Shruikan’s old prison in Ilirea. She could see the walls of the city from where she stood a few leagues away.

Alys felt as though she would enter and never see the light again; that the dark cave would snap her up and swallow her whole like a giant snake and refuse to let her go.

She drew in a breath, trying not to focus on the darkness. “Here I come, mystery dragon,” she mumbled. She held up her hand, glancing at her gedwëy ignasia. “Garjzla,” light, she instructed. An emerald orb of glowing magic formed a close to her palm and she walked forward.

Alys’ hand itched to grab her sword, but she stayed strong, forcing herself to believe that violence and threats would not be needed, nor wanted, today.

The darkness enveloped her as she walked forward. She could feel painful, telepathic tendrils coming from deep inside the cave. She winced feeling her back and neck get sore and a stinging in her left eye. Alys paused, waiting to see if her entire body got sore, as it did during the night when she and Ugauc would randomly connect, and his pain would be hers.

But no other discomfort came.

Alys drew in a breath a straightened her posture—this was the mystery dragon’s pain. She continued forward, she footsteps echoing around her with the empty sound of dripping water. The pale green glowing light illuminated what she needed to see.

She brushed through an inch deep puddle of water, the pain in her back deepening. She pace slowed the farther she went in, as did the pain. Helping this dragon would be her number one priority once they met.

But when the agony was so intense her head began to grow light, a warm breeze washed over her, and a rasping sound surrounded her.

Alys spun around, holding her glowing orb high. The cave fell quiet, and she forced away the pain, blocking her mind. Minutes went by before the air around her was sucked to the side. And minutes later the rasping came again.

It was breathing. Long breaths with long pauses between each one to fill giant lungs.

Alys could almost hear Ugauc say, What were you saying about listening to me more? with a hint or sarcasm.

How big was this dragon?

As big as Shruikan?

As big as Belgabad?

“Hello?” she called. Her voiced echoed around her. “Skulblaka,” she said, walking towards where the warm breeze came from in the chamber. “I was hoping we could talk?”

A low grumble came from close in front of her. Alys inched closer, holding her orb as far out as she could until it reflected against somethings matte black. She reached out, thinking it was part of the cave wall, only to have one of the black somethings fall off at her touch and fall to the floor, shattering into dozens of pieces.

It was a worn dragon scale; she knew the feel of them too well.

And this dragon was very sick.

“I’m here to help you,” she said. “I just want to make sure you’re all right.”

The grumbling came again; this time it was louder, angrier. Pain shot through Alys again, rendering her to her knees. How did you find me?! growled the dragon, his agony hers.

Alys held her hand to her eye. “The… Eldunarí,” she forced out. “They said you needed my help.”

I need no one! he snapped. Leave! He left her mind.

Alys returned the barrier to her mind and pushed herself to her feet. How had he lasted so long in so much pain? “Please,” she pushed on, forging her way to his head. The light of her orb had grown dimmer, but it’s light was enough to spot the glimmer of his eye high above her.

The dragon’s lip lifted as he snarled, flashing stained teeth right in front of Alys’ face.

She peered up at his pale blue eye, ignoring the stench from his mouth. Its pupil had a silver sheen and was surrounded by blood coloured sclera. Something about this blinded eye and a giant dragon sounded familiar.

“Who are you, skulblaka?” Alys asked, standing back and brightening the light from the orb so she could see as much as she could of him.

I… am no one, Shur’tugal. So, leave, he replied dimly, this time not sharing his anguish with her.

Alys wanted to scoff but she bit her tongue, thinking. A dragon this large was unheard of; apart from one… who had been killed by being stabbed in the eye with a Dauthdaert.

“Are you Shruikan?” Alys asked.

The cave stayed silent, until he took another breath. Yes, he said. I… am Shruikan.

#the inheritance cycle #inheritance cycle #fanfiction #inheritance cycle fanfic #shruikan's rider #sr #alys emmasdaughter #shruikan #eragon bromsson #saphira #dragons