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imagineclaireandjamie · 5 years

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Imagine the conversation in 4x05 between jamie and Claire when jamie returns home

He had done as she had asked – held her, and held her,and held her.

Though after about two minutes on the front porch, he hadgently pulled back to look at her, hands strong and steady on her shakingshoulders. Mindful of her ice-cold hands and streaming nose.

“I will be right back, *a graidh*,” he said slowly, eyesmeeting hers. “It’s too cold out here for ye to be just in yer shift. Please goback inside. I need to tell Ian to get everything sorted, and to give us privacy.”

She swallowed, eyes still shining with tears. “All right.”

He quickly kissed her forehead, gently pushed her backtoward the open door, and raced back to the wagon, heedless of the tricorne hatflying off his head and settling near the sow’s pen yet again.

When he returned a few minutes later and bolted the doorshut behind him, he quickly surveyed the inside of the cabin. Nothing out ofthe ordinary – new bunches of plants drying from the rafters, a used cookpotsitting beside the fire, waiting to be washed –

And Claire sitting bolt upright against the pillows oftheir bed, his rifle laying quietly on the quilt beside her.

She spoke, then, eyes blank, the warm glow of sunrisecrowning her with light as he quickly removed his coat, folded the scarf shehad so proudly knit for him, slipped out of his boots. Not once did heinterrupt her litany of terror and horror – knowing full well how healing itwas to just get the words out, in the presence of the one person with whom itwas safe to be so vulnerable.

Clad only in his shirt and socks, Jamie gently lifted therifle – wrinkling his nose at the scent of gunpowder, his heart sinking at theweight of it and knowing it was fully primed and loaded – and set it on thedining table he and Ian had hewn for her.

Finally then he peeled back the covers on the outside ofthe bed – closer to the door, to protect her while they slept – and took hisplace beside her.

Never once had her voice wavered. She was cold, factual.Describing the events and emotions as if they had happened to someone else.

A log crackled in the hearth – and the air changed in theroom. Something musky and earthy wafted from the clumps of herbs tied to theceiling. For a flash he was back beside her in that monk’s cell at the abbey, bothof them clad in white, wrestling with the aftermath of something terrible.

“I don’t want you to think that this means you can’t everleave me alone here.” He watched her right hand – so naked without a ring –trace the edges of a cheerily colored quilt square. “With Clarence to warn me,and Rollo to protect me – and the rifle, too – I’ll be fine. Our home will be fine.”

“But – ”

“Don’t think you can go all Scottish warrior on me. Iprotected myself – and I can protect myself again. I don’t fear the Cherokee –they recognized me, and honored you by not harming me.”

He swallowed. Reached to grab her hand on the quilt.

“I couldn’t help but think, Jamie – yet again, what wehave here could be ripped away at any moment. Whether disease, or fire, or theactions of other people despite what they think are the best of intentions.”

Now he squeezed her hand. “What do ye want to do?”

He turned his body toward hers; she sank against hischest, head on his shoulder, cold forehead against his warm, safe neck.

“We need to make contact with the Cherokee somehow. Iwant – I want to honor Adawehi in some way. Or at least speak to hergranddaughter-in-law.”

“Aye – that would be good. I can accompany ye to thevillage. What else?”

She sighed, snaking her arms around his side. “I don’tthink there’s anything we can actually do, about the rest of it. Not at leastuntil we have more people around, who would be closer to the cabin. Who we couldturn to in time of need, should it happen again.” She paused. “Did you have anyluck finding settlers?”

“Ian and I couldna find a single one.”

Her brow furrowed. “You sound surprisingly cheery inlight of that news.”

He held her tighter. “Two pieces of news, Sassenach. Oneshort, one much longer. Which do you prefer?”

The sunbeams now slanted straight through the windowpaneand into their faces. She nudged Jamie’s side, and he brought them down ontoher pillow, face to face. He pushed her back up against the wall, laying longand strong on her other side, arms splayed on her back. So that she knew shewas protected.

She smiled, just a bit. “The short one first, if youplease.”

He grinned. “Weel – in between meetings, I made enquiriesfor a blacksmith. Found a silversmith first – except he wasna home at the time.”

One dark brow raised. “So…”

His grin widened. “So the smith’s wife said, she didnaken when her husband would return – but that I was most welcome to come insidefor a slice of pie.”

Claire snorted. “Did she? And what did you say to *that*?”

“That my wife was waiting for me at home. And that shemakes the verra best pie in the world.”

She kissed his smiling mouth, then – and quickly itbecame something more. What with the time they had been apart, and the tangleof confused emotions they had both felt in each other’s absence, Jamie wouldhave wanted nothing more than to love his wife in the sunrise, on the bed hehad built and in the cabin he had built, watching the play of light on her hairand the features of her face as she lost herself to him.

But when she tugged his shoulders in an attempt to bringhim atop her, he stilled.

“Jamie? What is it?”

He sat up beside her, formally taking her hands in his. Thumbsstroking the backs of her hands – dry and cracked with the cold, and from herlabors to build their home.

“Claire. I have the most wonderful news.”

“But you said you didn’t find settlers – I don’tunderstand – ”

“After I refused the silversmith’s wife, I went to the blacksmith.”

She pushed up onto one elbow, brows raised skeptically. “So…”

“The blacksmith. It’s Murtagh.”

Somehow she leapt into his arms, and he held her again, shriekingwith joy.

#Anonymous #;mod gotham #episode 4x05

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