#fraser wee bairns

[scotianostra]

On February 24th 1303 the Scots, under Simon Fraser and John Comyn beat an English force at The Battle of Roslin.

Now most of my history is self taught that I have picked up over the years, I was brought up near Roslin and my mum did take us there as bairns and told us all about the Chapel, the Apprentice Pillar and The Holy Grail, this was 30 years before Dan Brown's Da Vinci Code novel, so with all that you would think that I will have been told all about The Battle of Roslin?

Nope not a thing, I knew about Stirling Bridge, Bannockburn and Culloden, as well as other battles but I can't recall my mum ever telling me about Roslin, so what I know is all learned over the past 20 years or so.

Fought between the Scots and English during the Wars of Scottish Independence and was a Scottish victory, but it does not figure in many history books and few people up until lately have even heard of it, yet the figures involved, especially on the English side, make it one of the biggest battles ever on Scots soil.

This was during the Wars of Scottish Independence, according to the stories I have read it was more of a fight over the love of a woman rather than a pure Scotland v England "match".

Lady Margaret Ramsay of Dalhousie, who had become betrothed to the handsome Sir Henry St Clair, they of the Knights Templar folk. Enter your typical English arrogant guy in Sir John de Segrave, a seasoned campaigner in many a Scottish battle. Sir John is said to have fallen in love with oor Lady Margaret on may visits to Dalhousie Castle, on hearing of the impending marriage in a fit of jealousy decided he wanted the Lady for himself so sought out to sweep her off her feet and defeat the Scottish army all in one fell swoop.

It's a great tale and sounds like a Hollywood film, but there never was any Lady Margaret Ramsay and we know that Sinclair married one Alicia de Fenton. So that's the romance bit debunked.

What I have also read out about the battle is that Segrove split his army, of 30,000 troops, into three groups, to me this is more believable, well splitting the army, the numbers in my mind will have been a lot less. Anyone who knows the landscape of Roslin Glen will know that it lends itself to the theory that in battle on big force would find it difficult to gather there. The English army in three divisions was also common in armies at the time. The terrain in Roslin in the middle of winter would have made it very difficult for a large army to manouevre, so with that I am pretty sure the numbers have been exaggerated, put it this way, if 30,000 English were defeated at Roslin it would be bigger than Bannockburn.

This brings me to my third point about the battle, why are no accounts of it from people present at it? Well that is easily explained in the fact that one of the commanders of the Scots was John "The Red" Comyn. It's a well know fact that history favours the winners, and we all know that The Bruce and Comyn were bitter rivals so it would be natural for any records of the battle to have been erased by Bruce. Well that's my take on it.

A couple of other details often written about the battle is that William Wallace was present, Wallace by this time had given up the Guardianship and at some point was said to have been in France, when captured he was in possession of a "safe passage" letter from The King of France, so was he there? Again I refer to my local knowledge in that along the River Esk that runs through Roslin Glen, towards Hawthornden Castle is a cave we know as Wallace's Cave, so there is a connection somewhere down the ages with our favourite Scottish patriot.

One as wee story regarding The Battle of Roslin is about the Cistercian Prior Abernethy of Mount Lothian to the west of Balantradoch, the Templar headquarters in Scotland, it was about 5 miles from Roslin, Abernethy, the monk, had been a Templar, a warrior, who had off his armour and lay down his sword to spend the remainder of his life praising God. Now the warrior priest's blood rose again. The life of prayer, compilation of Gregorian chants was abandoned. God had called the Prior to the defence of Scotland. As men prepare for battle each pray to whatever God he knows "let us be victorious."

Monks on horseback were sent to raise the alarm and warn the Scots of the danger facing them, they would have said a prayer for the Scots troops before the battle, as was normal, but another legend is that as the Scottish Army grew tired during the third stage of the battle. Abernethy is said to have been crucial with his local knowledge of the Glen, he also directed the Monks to erect a huge St Andrews Cross on the Pentland Hills, as the Scots tired the Cross was set alight and the Abernethy pointed towards it, saying it was a sign from God, it rallied the troops and the Battle was won.

You will have maybe heard other versions of The Battle of Roslin, a lot of this is my own take and by no means historical.

#scotland #scottish #history #Midlothian Roslin #Battle #First war of Scottish Independence

[gotham-ruaidh]

Who I Am - a 7x07 and 7x08 story

Set in the “Tell Me About Your Family” universe – where William visits the new Big House at Fraser’s Ridge together with Jamie, Claire, Brianna and Roger and their kids, Ian and Rachel and wee Oggy, Fanny, and Jenny Fraser Murray, in an imagined Book 9-ish timeline. He’s known that Jamie is his father for some time, but this is his first “family” visit.

Catch up on the story here:

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10

--

“I thought ye said ye were raised on a farm.”

Jenny Fraser Murray reached across to undo the knot that William had somehow tangled in the wool. “Here. Ye pull the strands apart like this, and then ye wind them together.”

William flushed but kept his head bent to his work. “I lived on my stepfather’s plantation for a time, but I was always busy riding or studying with my tutors or helping him entertain guests. I’m afraid I’m not much of a farmer, Auntie Jenny.”

She tsked. “So I assume ye never learned to clickit, either?”

“Pardon?”

“To make socks or scarves wi’ yarn using needles.”

Carefully he wound the strands of raw wool. “To knit? No, I never learned that either. Though I do remember my grandmother Dunsany had a basket full of yarn and thread and thimbles in her sitting room. I got into it once when I was a boy and she was not too happy with me.”

Jenny expertly tied off a handful of raw wool, and carefully took the wool from William’s hands. “Jamie and I learned to clickit from our Mam when we were bairns. My husband Ian – we grew up together, and one year for Hogmanay before we were courting, we knit each other hats wi’out knowing.” She smiled at the memory. “No’ like I needed one, mind. But it was a nice gift all the same.”

William gathered the tied-off piles of wool from the table and began stacking them on the tray Jenny had brought out onto the porch. “Was that before or after he lost his leg?”

“Oh, before. And he didnae lose the whole leg, just the part below the knee. He took grapeshot to the leg when he and Jamie were mercenaries in Flanders.”

That got William’s attention. “Da was a mercenary?”

Jenny nodded, stretching the cramp out of her neck and shoulders. “Aye, for the year after Father died. He had a price on his heid, so he needed to be somewhere else. He spoke French, so the choice was simple.” She turned to look at her nephew. “Did ye not ken that? Weel, I suppose there’s still a lot you don’t ken about my brother.”

William pursed his lips. “I didn’t know, no. It must have been his first time serving with an army, I suppose. And a foreign one, too.”

They watched a hawk glide soundlessly over the mountain. Smiled at Jem and Germaine sitting high up in the oak tree at the edge of the dooryard, swinging their legs from a high branch.

“He’s no’ spoken to me about it. Ever. Ian came home wounded, but Jamie didnae come back to Lallybroch wi’ him, on account of him being a wanted man. It took months until Ian was back on his feet, and while I mended him he told me a few things here and there about what it was like with the army. But then we turned back to running Lallybroch, and we were marrit not too long afterward, so…”

William stood, and extended a hand to help Jenny to her feet. Carefully he gathered the tray, now heaped high with wool. “Where may I take this for you, Auntie?”

--

It was a fine, crisp late summer evening. Roger supervised Jem, Germaine, Mandy, and Fanny washing the supper dishes at the trough in the dooryard, taking advantage of the last light. Jenny and Brianna’s voices drifted from somewhere inside the house, planning for the next day’s spinning of the raw wool into yarn. Ian and Rachel had retreated to their cabin with Oggy, who had fussed quite a bit during supper and clearly needed somewhere quiet to rest.

“Here.” William looked up to see his father holding out a pewter cup, took it, and shifted a bit on the bench to allow room for Jamie to sit beside him.

“I still can’t believe how peaceful it is here,” William remarked, watching the last rays of sun touch the treetops on the mountain.

“Aye. I’ve a short list of things I’m most happy about in my life. Getting the grant for this land is on it.” Jamie held out his own pewter cup, and William tapped it. “Slainte.”

“Slan-juh,” William echoed, taking a sip, feeling proud he did not immediately grimace.

Jamie smiled. “Good lad. We’ll have ye speaking the Gaidhlig fluently before too long.”

“You speak French?”

Jamie frowned, a bit surprised at the sudden question. “I do. And the Latin and Greek, a bit of Cherokee, and a wee bit of Chinese as weel.” He sipped his whisky. “And you, wee William? You must have the Latin and Greek, if your education was as good as Lord John has told me.”

“Yes. And French, and now some of the Prussian language as well.”

“Of course, on account of the Hessians.”

William nodded. Sipped his whisky. “I’m asking because Auntie Jenny told me today that you had served as a mercenary.”

“In Flanders. Aye. That was a long time ago.”

“Was that your first time serving in an army?”

Jamie stretched out his long legs, exposing his kneecaps as the drapes of the kilt fell away, pocked with scars.

“It was. I didnae have much choice, mind you. I had escaped from the English at Fort William, in the Highlands. I was being held for murdering an officer. I hadnae murdered him, mind you, but there was no reasoning with the garrison commander. That man had had me flogged twice in the space of a week, after all.”

William’s eyes bugged at this information.

Claire emerged onto the porch, medical apron tied over her skirts. “There you are. Is now a good time?”

Jamie shifted his pewter cup to his left hand, and extended his right hand over the rail of the bench. Claire pulled up a chair so that Jamie’s four-fingered hand lay in her lap, and pulled a jar out of a pocket.

William blinked, remembering his manners, and craned his neck to see. “What’s that?”

Claire opened the jar and set it between her knees. “It’s a salve I make for Jamie, on account of the pain he still feels in his hand. Helps to loosen the tension. Especially on days like today when I know he’s been using it too much.”

“Near every bone in this hand was broken when I was no’ much older than you,” Jamie explained casually, grimacing a bit as Claire’s sure fingers kneaded the salve into the tissue. “Pained me for years. And then at Saratoga I injured it again. Both times, Claire mended me. She promised me I’d have a working hand, and I do.”

“My first real surgery, this hand was,” she murmured, massaging the palm with both thumbs.

Jamie leaned over to kiss her forehead.

William cleared his throat. “I knew that Saratoga was not your first battle.”

“But it was yours,” Jamie interjected.

William took a sip of whisky. “Yes. I – I thought I would be better prepared.”

“There’s nothing that can prepare you, lad. I was but twenty years old when I fought my first true battle. I’d done the occasional cattle raid here and there, so I thought I’d be ready.”

“I wager you weren’t.”

“No. Drilling is easy. Knowing what to do in the heat of battle, right after you see your comrades die in front of you…that’s something else entirely.”

William watched Fanny and Mandy carefully carry a stack of clean plates and pewter cups across the dooryard and back into the house. Smelled the sharp, clean tang of the ointment.

“I am ashamed to tell you this, but I do not think I acted too honorably in the first battle.”

“At Saratoga, you mean?”

William nodded, looking down at his hands. “I froze. My comrade…my friend…took a bullet right next to me. All I remember is General Fraser screaming at me, but I couldn’t hear any of the words.”

He watched Jamie’s hand slide on to his, gripping it. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, son. It’s the hell of a shock. I’ve experienced it myself, a time or two.”

“Prestonpans. Culloden. The war with the Regulators,” Claire murmured.

William swallowed. “I recovered, of course, and led the next charge. Though now I realize it was you and your men I was fighting, and that fact makes me absolutely sick to my stomach.”

Jamie squeezed his son’s hand. “Take that feeling, lad, and multiply it by the largest number ye can think of. And then you’ll know just how I felt, when in the second battle I shot your hat right off your heid.”

William raised his mug to his lips, watching the liquid slosh as his hand shook. Feeling his body seize up with tension. “Dear God.”

His vision swam. His pulse dropped.

Steps – Mother Claire. Gently taking away his mug, and resting her hands on his shoulders. “William. It’s all right. You’re here with us now. Breathe deep.”

Jamie’s hand gripping his. “In and out, lad. Follow me.”

Claire undoing his stock, settling a hand on the clammy back of his neck. “Slowly now.”

He did not know if it was minutes or hours that Jamie and Claire surrounded him, comforted him, soothed him.

But when he did return to himself, he was crying.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped.

Jamie squeezed his shoulder, and kissed his temple. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, lad.”

“It’s called a panic attack.” Claire felt his cheeks and forehead with the back of a cool hand. “Have you had them before?”

He licked his parched lips. “Yes, but never that strong. Only when I’m truly upset.”

“I can give you some guidance on what to do, should it happen again and we’re not here to help,” she said gently. “But there’s no cure. I’m sorry to tell you that even in my time, these things happen. Perhaps even more frequently.”

William swallowed. “Have men not discovered a way to end all wars, then?”

She knelt on the porch, still holding his pulse between her fingers. “I’m afraid not. You know that Jamie’s endured several wars. I endured a war of my own, in the years right before I met him. England and France and the Americans were all on the same side of this war, if you can believe it. Fighting the Prussians, in the fields of France.”

“They called it a world war,” Jamie added. “Men fighting each other wi’out swords, but with guns, and with bombs dropped from the sky.”

“I worked in an aid station, right at the edge of the combat zone.” Claire looked at him, but her eyes were so far away. “Patched up many men not too much older than you. So, I understand.”

William swallowed. “I – I am a soldier. Being a soldier is what I’ve aspired to for my whole life. To be like my stepfather, and the men in his family.”

Jamie and Claire listened, patient.

“But I like this – being with all of you, here in the quiet. Perhaps I’m more cut out to be a farmer. I love my men, but this life here…”

“We understand, William.” Jamie reached to cup his son’s cheek, for the first time in his life, as if he were a wee lad. “And we will love you and support you no matter what you choose.”

“The Americans will win this war, will they not?”

“They will,” Claire said softly. “Of that I’m certain.”

William set his jaw. “Perhaps I should start spending a lot more time here.”

“There’s nothing we’d love more. But you have a life outside of this place, William – we cannae keep you from it.”

“Being here, with all of you, this past week – it makes me wonder whether this life here is more important. I need more time with you, Da – and with you, Mother Claire – and with Brianna and her family. I need to know who I am.”

Jamie smiled. “You already do, lad.”

#outlander #outlander fanfic #jamie and claire

[flyinghome-againstthewind]

the best by far is you: epilogue

Read on AO3

Previous Chapter

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

Epilogue

June 1750

His wife was still buried under the covers while Jamie moved about the room on quiet feet and got dressed in the soft light of dawn. He reached for his boots, the final article of dress, and caught sight of Claire’s hand rising out of the mess of blankets ‒ reaching out toward him in silent request.

He stopped in his tracks. Straightened back up.

“Don’t get up yet,” she said, her voice still heavy with sleep. “Stay in bed with me.”

His chest tightened and he let out a gentle sigh. “Aye.”

He crawled back onto the bed, fully-dressed save for his boots still, and molded his body against the curve of Claire’s. She let out a sleepy hum when he nuzzled into her wild hair and kissed the back of her neck. There was a time when he might’ve denied her request, felt the need to rush off to the responsibilities of farm life. But he knew now that all of that would keep ‒ for a little while at least ‒ but Claire and the bairns would not.

There was something in her touch, the way her hands clasped tightly over his, keeping his hold on her there, that told him her thoughts were running in tandem with his, reaching the same destination. He held her tighter still, turning his face into the crook of her neck and murmuring all that was in his heart to her, some bits in Gaelic but he thought she knew well enough now to understand his meaning if not the words themselves.

His eyes opened with the soft creak of their bedroom door opening. Of course, he could put off the work of the day for a bit, but the bairns didn’t always give them the same reprieve. “Sleep a little longer, Sassenach,” he whispered against her neck before leaving a parting kiss there. “I’ll get up wi’ her.”

When he rolled over and swung his feet out of bed, he caught sight of the impish wee lass in the doorway, bouncing on her toes already at the prospect of their recent morning routine together.

“Dood morning,” she sung to him, her eyes alight with joy, as he swiftly pulled on his boots and ushered her back through the doorway.

He swung Brianna up into his arms and closed the door behind them. “Good morning, m'annsachd.”

He stepped across the hall and poked his head into the nursery, knowing he would find Faith under the blankets still. Brianna was their only early riser now.

He let Faith be and knocked on Fergus’s door to get him up and moving for the day. Brianna was a warm weight against his chest, waiting patiently until Jamie headed down the stairs with her to the kitchen. A fire had already been started in the hearth, letting Jamie know Murtagh was up and about.

“I can make the parritch, Papa?”

Papa. That was who he was to Fergus, and to Faith, he was simply Da, but Brianna was growing up hearing both names for Jamie and used them interchangeably. Jamie didn’t mind — she’d likely settle on one or the other eventually, and it had never really mattered what his children called him, only that they were his to raise and love and guide.

“Aye, we’ll make it together.” He kissed her soft cheek still flushed from her sleep, and moved about with only one hand free to start on breakfast. His wee Brianna encumbered the process more than helped, but no one else in the household possessed Brianna’s early morning cheerfulness ‒ besides perhaps himself, as Claire often pointed out in mild annoyance ‒ so he got on just fine with the lass as meal preparations were started.

Jamie finally set her down just as Murtagh walked in through the kitchen backdoor.

“Murtagh!” the wee thing cheered and ran to him, throwing her arms around his legs. It was the kind of reaction that would make one think she hadn’t seen her beloved Murtagh in ages. It had been only a matter of hours, most of which she’d slept through. The older man grinned and reached down to smooth her hair, still wild from her sleep. She turned her face and kissed his trouser-clad knee before letting him go.

“Come eat yer parritch, Brianna, and let poor Murtagh come inside.”

“Och, she’s fine,” Murtagh protested, but still herded Brianna towards the table.

With a certain knack for timing his entrance at the moment food was ready, Fergus stumbled out into the kitchen then, silent and sullen and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He sunk into a chair at the table and Jamie wordlessly passed him a bowl, smothering a rueful smile. They’d learned not to engage Fergus too heavily in the morning during this season of his youth.

Claire appeared too, dressed and hair up in place, though a weariness beyond physical exhaustion still lingered in her eyes. She bent to kiss the top of Fergus’s head and then joined them at the table.

There was only one Fraser missing, so Jamie headed up the stairs for the nursery.

“Up ye get, Faith.”

She was still sleeping, but she’d stay in bed all day if they let her. So he scooped her up and carried her down to the kitchen. She was getting older ‒ six already ‒ but Faith was still such a slight thing that Jamie didn't think twice about carrying her around as he always had.

He deposited a half-asleep Faith into the empty chair as Claire passed a bowl of parritch to the space in front of her before she could lay her head there. If it were only Fergus and Faith, breakfast might usually be a silent affair but Brianna thrived at that hour and held them all at court with her own chatter.

“An’ when the baby horse dets born‒”

“‒ it’s a foal, Brianna.”

Brianna gave a curt nod of acknowledgment but didn’t correct herself. “When he dets born, he will be so wee,” she held her hands up, close together, to demonstrate. “A wee baby.”

“No’ that small,” Murtagh said dryly.

“‒ and then he can be mine.” Brianna gave a slight shrug, as if this made perfect sense.

Fergus’s head shot up, his eyes ablaze. “No, he won’t. Delphine is my mare, her foal is mine as well.” His gaze shifted to Jamie. “Papa, you said so.”

Jamie held a hand up, placating. “Aye, I did. Brianna, why d’ye think the foal will be yers?”

Claire rubbed Brianna’s back as the little girl answered in her high-pitched voice, as if it should be obvious to everyone else, “He will be my size.”

His wife barely concealed a snort of laughter, her brows raised at Jamie, wondering how he planned to challenge that logic.

Faith’s brows furrowed together and Jamie knew the pecking order was about to be argued ‒ if anyone got a horse next, it should be Faith and she knew it.

“Christ, the foal hasnae even been born yet. It’s Fergus’s mare that’s foaling, so it’s his foal. Aye?”

Brianna ducked her chin towards her chest, pouting.

“Eat up, baby,” Claire said gently. “Got a big day ahead of us.”

She said that perhaps only to redirect Brianna ‒ there was nothing special about the day other than that spring was bleeding into summer and in addition to the vineyard, there was no shortage of work with tending to the animals and to Claire’s garden and yes, keeping a close eye on the mare about to give birth any day now.

Jamie shoveled in his last bites of food and rose from the table, giving a few instructions to Fergus for his responsibilities for the day as he cleared some of the dishes.

He caught the tail end of Claire’s corralling of the girls upstairs to help them dress for the day.

“Are you still my little baby?” Claire was saying to Brianna, drawing a giggle out of the girl for the first time since her dreams of owning the foal were dashed.

In contrast to their wee Faith, Brianna was a rather large child for three-and-a-half, hearty and long-limbed in that recognizable build of a MacKenzie. She’d be tall, they could already tell. Despite this, it never stopped Claire from hefting the girl onto her hip as she did now to head upstairs together.

Jamie paused and watched them, feeling his heart squeeze in his chest again. She was their baby still but lately she seemed to grow rapidly in her sleep and he wished she would slow down for his and Claire’s sakes ‒ wished all three of their children would slow down, really, but the ache was sharper with Brianna.

Because she was their youngest, he told himself, though he knew it wasn’t exactly that.

 **********

Jamie stepped out of the stall and peered through the open stable door down the path to the house for the umpteenth time to see if Claire had managed to fetch Fergus yet. Fergus’s mare was finally in labor and in addition to Jamie wanting an extra set of hands if needed, the mare was Fergus’s responsibility and the boy should be here for it.

The young man, rather. He was fifteen after all.

It was on this turn that he spotted his wife and son on their way to the barn. He leaned against a wooden post, watching them approach. They were hurrying, but there was something beyond a sense of urgency that was palpable between them even at a distance that made Jamie straighten up.

“... for the love of God, Fergus Fraser,” Claire’s voice finally reached him, “do not make me a grandmother at thirty-three.”

Jamie’s brows rose to his hairline. He was fairly certain this was not about the foal, and clocked the tension as Claire held onto the boy’s elbow as they walked ‒ nay, she was practically marching Fergus here. “Christ,” he muttered under his breath.

Oh, but that discussion would have to wait.

“Get in here, lad, it’s almost time.”

Fergus looked damn near relieved at that and tugged free of Claire’s hold to quicken his steps.

At fifteen, he’d grown tall and lanky in his build ‒ taller than Claire now ‒ but he’d filled out just a little as well in all his work on the vineyard. He was strong and steady, and Jamie wasn’t sure how he’d manage without the boy’s contributions once Fergus went away for his studies. His features were still fine-boned and handsome as they’d been in his youth, and it hadn’t escaped Jamie or Claire’s notice how many of the local farmers’ daughters were always trying to catch his eye. Nor did it escape Fergus’s notice, the wee scamp.

Christ, what had Claire seen?

He shook his head as Fergus rounded past him into the stall with his head ducking from Jamie’s gaze, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. When Claire slipped into the stall, she was practically simmering with anger.

But whatever it was she had come upon concerning Fergus, it had to be put out of all of their minds for the time as Delphine delivered her first foal. Jamie had witnessed any number of horses delivering a foal in his life ‒ inevitable with growing up on a farm ‒ but he never tired of seeing the new foal exploring their world for the first time, or the change that came over the mare, so proud and protective of the wild, stumbling little creature.

Delphine had been the first horse purchased for their farm, a promise fulfilled, and Fergus never loved anything else so much in the world as that horse. Except for maybe the new foal now, Jamie considered, watching the lad’s face soften as he watched the dear little thing.

Feeling a soft swell of affection for his own son, Jamie’s gaze sought out Claire’s to share the moment with her as well. It was a milestone for their lad, in a way; He was now the proud caretaker of Delphine and her little one.

But he caught something else in Claire’s eyes when she returned his gaze and his heart skittered. It was a brief flicker, there and gone in a blink, but after nearly seven years together, he knew every look on her face by heart. Knew her by heart.

She knew him, too. So perhaps that was why Claire’s gaze turned suddenly to Fergus and spoke up before Jamie could dwell on that look any further. “What will you call him then?”

“Tis a male so ye canna name this one after yer next favorite hoor from Maison Elise,” Jamie teased dryly, trying to shift the mood.

“He what?” Claire snapped. Her eyes narrowed at their son and her comments from earlier came rushing back to all of them. “Was Delphine the name of that brunette…” Her words stalled, not wanting to call the woman a whore in front of Fergus, but coming up short with another word for it.

Fergus’s ears burned bright red and he shot an accusing glance at Jamie. “I just liked the name,” he said hotly.

“Of course. Twas only teasing ye, lad.”

Fergus had never said Delphine the mare was named after one of the ladies from Maison Elise, but Jamie had remembered him talking about the young woman when they first brought him into their home.

“I think I will name him Marcel,” Fergus said softly, his gaze returned to the foal. Jamie felt the small tug of a smile.

“Young warrior, indeed. He’d have to be, if he’s tae survive the onslaught of yer sisters’ affections for him.”

That pulled a startled laugh out of the boy. The strange energy that had lingered from earlier began to dissipate.

Claire slipped past him out of the stall, unnervingly quiet, and so Jamie followed.

He stepped behind Claire as she washed her hands in the large water basin. She had several short, wispy curls that had slipped free from the pins and now curled around her neck, which was damp with sweat. He bent his head and kissed the juncture between her neck and shoulder and felt her shiver at the touch.

“Today reminded me of when ye helped me and Auld Alec deliver a foal at Castle Leoch. When we were first wed. D’ye remember?”

She leaned back against his chest and his arms went around her waist, securing her to him. “Hard to forget the first time I was called upon to be a midwife to a horse.”

“Aye,” he chuckled, “but what a bonny wee midwife ye were.” After a moment, he said, “What happened wi’ the lad, before ye came to the barn?”

Claire sighed and craned her neck to make sure Fergus was still distracted with the foal and out of earshot. “I found him by the chicken coop with his hands full of Minette Dupré.”

“And they were…?”

“Practically sucking each other's faces off right in front of me,” Claire muttered.

“What?”

“They were kissing.”

“Oh, is that all?”

It was the wrong thing to say. Claire pulled herself free of him and spun around, her anger surfacing in a blink.

“He also had his hands on her. He was feeling her up.”

“Was the lass distressed?”

“Jamie!”

“Christ, a nighean, it’s only that I heard ye say ye dinna want to be a grandmother yet, and so I thought‒” He gave an exasperated, helpless shrug. “I mean, it sounds as though they both still had their clothes on, aye?”

“Oh, and when has that ever been a problem for us?” Claire whispered sharply.

Dread settled in his stomach like molten hot lead. “Christ.” He scrubbed a hand over his face.

“My point is that they were alone together. Maybe they were only kissing when I found them, but if it had been another few minutes…”

“Aye, aye,” Jamie sighed. He had the full picture of it now.

Claire folded her arms tight across her chest, stewing in the feelings this conversation had revived. Her gaze cut across the barn to the young man completely unaware of how his mother wanted to throttle him at that moment.

“Talk to him again,” her voice was low, almost resigned. “He needs to be safe. But if you can’t get through to him, I have no qualms with describing to him in great, gory details how a syphilis infection progresses.”

“Lord,” Jamie muttered, feeling an involuntary shudder go through him just at the thought. His hands gripped her upper arms and tugged her closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I dinna think we’re there yet, Sassenach.”

  **********

After supper, he pulled Fergus aside to go for a walk, but he was surprised when the boy spoke first.

“You don’t have to give me the speech again. I know.”

“What is it that ye know then?”

“I know I cannot get a girl with my child unless I am prepared to marry her and be a father.”

He felt a sudden pang of grief at the heaviness in the boy’s tone. Aye, Fergus did know that. He’d never subject a child of his own blood to being cast off in the same way that he was. But Fergus was still too young to be a father, if he got himself into that situation.

“Aye. And yer mother and I dinna want ye to have to make that choice any time soon.”

“I wasn’t going to‒” Fergus broke off abruptly, his face red. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. “There are other ways to…”

“Ah, Christ.”

He was torn between feeling comforted that Fergus at least had enough sense not to get a lass pregnant out of wedlock, and feeling a strange sense of loss for Fergus’s innocence, a consequence of growing up where he did. Even still, there would be things Fergus wouldn’t know that might harm him. “Oh hell, maybe I should let yer mother talk to ye.”

Fergus’s eyes widened, but Jamie’s mind was already made up.

He sighed heavily. “It’s for yer own good, son.”

  **********

Claire never felt more like herself than when she had dirt under her fingernails and the sun on her face while dozens of flourishing, young plants kept her company. Her garden was a proud achievement, something cultivated from the work of her own hands over the last few years. Spring had been mild and as the season began to give way to summer, she was seeing the results of her labor thriving.

“You’re doing it all wrong, Brianna.”

At Faith’s sharp voice, Claire sat back on her heels and peered around the tomato bushes to see what was amiss. Her two red-headed hellions were less helpful when working together than if Claire had either one alone with her, but that was a facet of sisterhood that she and Jamie were having to learn as the girls grew.

Brianna growled, like the half-feral child that she was ‒ and, perhaps most of all, because it set Faith on edge.

“Mama!”

Claire sighed. “Bree, come help me weed over here. There’s a big one with your name on it.”

“She’s pulling up the flowers instead o’ the weeds,” Faith tattled. “The ones Auntie Jenny sent!”

Brianna stumbled out to the edge where Claire was working, trying and failing to look innocent. “I thought those were the weeds!”

Faith was already tenderly working to rescue some of the Queen Anne’s Lace that had suffered at the hands of Brianna ‒ thankfully, she didn’t appear to have gotten very far before Faith noticed. Claire watched her for a moment, a little stunned to see the careful way Faith dug room into the soil and set the roots back in and covered them gently. Claire had never taught her to do that, she must’ve learned from watching. “Alright there, Faith?”

“Yes, Mama,” she murmured, head still bent over her task. Some of them looked a little beyond hope, bent and broken from the tiny, careless toddler fists, but the damage was not extensive.

Claire sighed again.

It hadn’t been the best decision in retrospect to have both girls weeding near the one plant Claire relied on for contraception, but Faith was proving herself more and more to be a capable helper in tending to the garden.

She felt the sudden, warm weight on her shoulder and turned her head to kiss Brianna’s forehead, which was sticky with sweat. That little one, on the other hand…

That little one is only three and a half, Claire reminded herself. Wild and willful and unbearably sweet, Brianna certainly kept them on their toes. “Here, Bree, I need your help. See that weed there?”

“I will det it, Mama!” She scurried off immediately.

“Dig up the roots, remember. Don’t just pull it.”

“You will get it, Brianna. G-g-get,” Faith corrected her speech without looking up, her tone a little sharp with her younger sister. It stirred up within Claire an urge to defend her tiny troublemaker. She and Jamie and perhaps even Murtagh could help correct Brianna’s mispronunciations, but the poor wee thing often had Fergus and Faith correcting her too ‒ and not often out of kindness.

Siblings…

And to be perfectly honest, she found Brianna’s slight speech error to be rather endearing. She was already grieving the time when she would no longer greet them with dood morning each day.

“Be nice to your sister, Faith. You couldn’t pronounce your v’s for the longest time, but you eventually figured it out.”

Faith glanced up at that, scowling a little in the sun. “No I didn’t!”

“Yes,” Claire laughed. “You did. You used to say, ‘I lub you.’ It was adorable.”

Faith shrugged, not wanting to admit she was wrong. “I don’t remember that.”

Claire was a little startled to feel her eyes misting over at the implications of Faith’s words, but she blinked them swiftly to clear her vision. As long as she lived, she could never forget finding her little girl again after Culloden ‒ finding her and having Faith pull away from Claire’s embrace, because too much time had passed for her baby to possibly remember.

For so long, Claire had worried Faith would remember that season of their lives ‒ the uncomfortable growing pains of learning to be a family again, and the fact that Claire hadn’t always been there. She worried Faith might be hurt by that knowledge when she was old enough to question it. But instead, Faith could only recall bits and pieces of their lives before they came to the vineyard, and Claire, surprisingly, found herself a little grieved that she couldn’t share those memories with Faith without having to explain their significance.

Like the first time Faith had said ‘I lub ye’ and offered to ‘gib her a kiss’, or when it had finally clicked for Faith exactly who Claire was to her and she called her Mama once more. She had been so nervous over Faith remembering the hard moments that she hadn’t realized she might not remember those good ones, too.

At six years old, Faith understood that her parents had been away for a bit during the war, and that she lived at Lallybroch with her aunt, uncle, and cousins during that time, but she didn’t yet know that Claire had missed additional months of her life after the war, or how exactly her family came to live in France and not Scotland. They would tell her, someday, but for now, all she knew was this life with her family in the south of France, and that was something Claire and Jamie both wanted to protect for her for a little longer.

  **********

A chorus of excited cheers from the girls stole Claire’s attention. Brianna had spotted Jamie first, heading out from the barn right towards them, and both girls swiftly abandoned the garden work to make a dash for him.

Her gaze was inexorably drawn to their merry ruckus and she watched Jamie’s expression transform at the sight of the girls, grinning broadly. He dropped to one knee and scooped up Faith and then Bree before pushing to his feet, a girl in each arm.

It was a sight she’d never tire of. Three matching heads of auburn hair caught the summer sun and dazzled in their brilliance of red and gold. Oh, how she loved that both girls had his hair. And when the three of them were all together like that, looking like they belonged to one another, it almost seemed like the life she’d pictured for them when she realized she was pregnant with Faith ‒ that first delicate hope of a dream coming true. True, they weren’t raising their family on their own land, weren’t at Lallybroch, but this place was home enough and they were all together, which was all they really needed.

“It’s early still,” was how Claire greeted him, a smile tugging at her lips as she leaned against her garden gate. They hired extra hands for the planting and harvesting seasons and the making of wine, but had recently returned to the day-to-day of just their own family managing the vineyard. The busyness was starting to wane as they moved into summer but they still didn’t often reunite until supper. “I didn’t expect to see you yet.”

His smile turned a little smug before leaning in to kiss her, to the chorus of disgusted sounds from the wee ones. “Can a man no’ surprise his wife?”

“Surprise?”

“Aye. The lassies will stay wi’ Murtagh for the afternoon. You and I have plans.”

“Oh?” She wasn’t usually one for surprises but she wouldn’t deny that the prospect of an afternoon away from the little ones and the demands of farm life sent a slight thrill through her.

“I helped pack the basket!” Faith blurted out. She grinned then, quite proud, and Claire’s heart melted at the sight. Faith’s current smile was her favorite thing at the moment ‒ and one that was granted for only a short season of childhood ‒ with a wide gap at the front of her mouth where the two upper teeth had fallen out. It made Claire feel inexplicably tender to see it, well remembering when those very teeth had poked through her baby’s gums, and now they were gone, lost to childhood.

“Christ. Ye’re a great one for secrets, aye?” Jamie huffed, but he pressed a sound kiss to Faith’s temple before setting the girls on their feet. “Go an’ find Murtagh before ye spoil anything else,” he teased.

“Can we go see the foal?”

“Aye, so long as Murtagh’s wi’ ye.”

Off the girls went, Faith throwing one excited, impish glance over her shoulder before they both disappeared around the side of the barn.

Claire took a step forward and found herself encircled in Jamie’s embrace. Her hands clasped at the back of his neck. “So this surprise…?”

Jamie pulled her flush against him and their bodies began to sway together. “Aye, I’m taking ye away for… what is it called in yer time, again?”

She thought of the basket Faith had mentioned. “A picnic?” she guessed.

“Aye,” his face brightened. “A picnic.”

  **********

Jamie was so thoroughly sated, he thought he might fall asleep right there in the shady hillside he’d scoped out for his and Claire’s outdoor picnic. The food was still untouched in the basket.

He tilted his head towards where Claire was stretched out next to him on top of his tartan, one hand tucked behind her head. They were both in a state of disheveled dress, not letting something as trivial as clothing stall them from taking full advantage of being alone in the quiet wilderness moments ago.

He thought of Claire’s words from a few days ago when she’d told him about finding Fergus alone with a lass, both fully clothed; And when has that ever been a problem for us?

When, indeed? She’d been right to be so alarmed then.

He propped himself up on one elbow and leaned over his wife. Her eyes snapped open when his head blocked the sunlight from her.

Ah Dhia, she was so stunning, it still knocked the wind out of him. And he never loved the sight of her more than after their frantic coupling that left them both thoroughly spent. Her breasts were spilling out the top of her dress where he had tugged at the laces and layers of fabric to try and free them. He ducked his head and kissed the top of one perfect breast.

“Seven years, and I still want ye as much as I did on our wedding day ‒ more than that now, I think. So much more.”

“Seven…” Claire’s eyes widened. “It’s our anniversary today, isn’t it?”

“Aye,” he said with a laugh and leaned down to kiss her, a smile still tugging at his lips. “‘Tis.”

Her fingers slid up through his curls and held on as she deepened the kiss, left him panting and wanting for her even though he’d only just had her. “I forgot,” she murmured in between kisses.

He didn’t care. He truly didn’t. Claire was smiling brighter than she had in days, in weeks, and it filled a hollowness in his chest he hadn’t realized was there. Jamie kissed her again for good measure, soft and swift, and settled back onto the tartan next to her, his hand on her waist.

The winter had been unkind to them, in a number of ways. Wee Faith had fallen terribly ill ‒ and recovered, thank the Lord ‒ but she’d suffered through a lingering cough for weeks afterwards that seemed to rattle the whole frame of her, and it always drew Claire’s concerned gaze.

And while they were keeping themselves afloat here in France, they’d deduced from Ian’s letters that the tension with the Redcoats had flared up again in the fall ‒ and that weighed heavily on Jamie, knowing it was because of him and that he couldn’t fix it. They’d tried and failed on several attempts to sway Jenny and Ian towards joining them here in France, even if only for a few years. All for naught; his sister would never leave Lallybroch while there was breath in her lungs.

Then, deep in mid-winter came the news of Jenny and Ian’s loss ‒ a niece he and Claire would never meet but the loss shattered them just the same.

The news of Caitlin came so close on the heels of their own private grief from the beginning of winter. Hadn’t gone on long enough to tell Jenny and Ian about it, but Murtagh had known, and Fergus. They were close to telling the girls, but never got the chance.

Next to him, Claire stared up at the clouds, deep in thought. He fumbled for her hand and brought to it his lips, which drew her gaze to him. Christ but he wanted to protect her from every wicked and painful thing in this life. In the winter, he hadn’t been able to protect her from any of it, one hit after the other. And she’d tucked away every painful part of that season for the bairns’ sakes, so they’d never know their mam was hurting, would never be affected by it. She’d done that for them, but Jamie had seen right through her.

“Ye’ve been sad again lately, my sassenach, and I havenae kent how to ask ye about it, but… are ye thinking of the bairn?”

She blinked swiftly, those crystal blue eyes returning to the sky. “I thought I was fine, for a while there at least. But it’s June now, and I‒ I can’t help thinking we would probably have the baby by now, or be nearly ready to welcome one, if… if it had survived.”

The bairn had been a spark of joy they hadn’t planned for; After Brianna, they’d felt content in their wee Fraser clan, and Claire had managed with her wee herbs to limit the likelihood of falling pregnant again.

But it wasn’t foolproof ‒ short of abstaining altogether, nothing was foolproof and they weren’t willing to consider that. Still, when they’d realized Claire was with child again…

He leaned forward to press a kiss to her temple. Aye, it was a spark of joy and when that spark was snuffed out, it left them both reeling.

“I’m sorry,” she surprised him by saying. Her voice had gone soft. “I know I haven’t been‒ Well, you’ve been getting up and making breakfast for everyone and‒”

“I dinna mind it, Sassenach.” He leaned forward again and kissed her brow. “Truly. And I think Brianna would throw a fit if I stopped,” he laughed. His chest tightened at the sight of her own smile.

“Well.” She turned to look at him, her fingers traced along his jaw, unbearably soft. “Maybe you won’t need to do it every day then, at least.”

He captured her wandering hand, brought it to his lips to kiss those delicate, long fingers. “Oh aye, that might be best. I think Fergus would like something besides parritch every now and then.”

Claire hummed in amusement. “Yes, I do believe our son would like it if we embraced a bit more of his homeland, starting with the cuisine.”

Jamie tutted softly. “We may be in France but I’ll no’ let my bairns grow up wi’out a little bit of Scotland in their lives.”

He could see the way his words made her consider something. “It is strange… all of your children have been born in France.”

“Aye.” He’d thought of that too, after Brianna was born.

“Does it bother you? That we’re here instead of there?”

He knew it didn’t bother her ‒ she’d never lived anywhere long enough to grow roots and the thought always made his heart ache for her. Someday…

He let out a long sigh. “I willnae be dishonest and say I dinna miss it, Claire. I do. I always will. But I cannae see a way that we could’ve stayed and been safe. Can ye?”

She shook her head.

“It won’t be forever,” he said lightly, one hand tucked behind his head as he stared up at the sky. “Living in France, that is. But wherever else we go, it won’t be Scotland either. Well. Someday, I’ll build ye a surgery, too,” he added, changing course rather quickly on her.

“Oh really?”

“Aye.”

“And where would we put this surgery?”

“Oh not here,” he clarified. “But we won’t stay here, aye? That’s one of yer conditions.”

When he had first broached the subject of running the vineyard, Claire had agreed but not without the aforementioned conditions of her own. Staying in France in the short-term had been the smartest choice for them and there weren’t any immediate threats, but the French Revolution was coming, she’d told him, and they were smarter than to try and stop that from happening, if they were still around. But if they were still alive, they certainly didn’t want to be here for it.

So he did think about it, more often now than when they’d first settled here. “Fergus will be sixteen next year. Lad should be able to complete his education in Paris.”

Claire chewed on her bottom lip, absorbing Jamie’s words. She didn’t want him to go, that much was clear. Didn’t want him out of the nest, but that didn’t necessarily mean she wouldn’t let him go. Still, she was probably lamenting if Fergus would come back to them once he finished at university or go off on his own.

“I can see yer mind is years down the road, Sassenach.”

She huffed at that, turning her head to scowl at him half-jokingly. “Oh, is it?”

“Aye,” he said, but the smile he put on wasn’t entirely heartfelt. It would be hard for him too, of course, but they wouldn’t deprive Fergus of that opportunity he deserved.

Jamie stretched and sat up, reaching for the basket that his wee lassies had indeed helped him pack early that morning ‒ bannocks and cheese and fruits and a bit of smoked meat. He set the basket between them and when Claire didn’t sit up to join him, he popped a grape into her mouth.

“Oh thank you,” she said with exaggerated sweetness. “Are you going to feed me by hand the whole time?”

“If ye like.”

She hummed, considering, and still sat up. He suspected she was starting to feel as ravenous as he was.

While they ate, Claire broached the subject of where they would want to go after France. There was no urgency, no real deadline, but with talk of Fergus going to Paris next year and the reminder that France was never supposed to be forever, it felt natural in that moment, while celebrating their anniversary, to dream a little about the future together.

They batted around ideas, times that made sense for their family to relocate, what it would mean for the vineyard and for Jared ‒ all things that could be sorted out. They talked about everything except for the one hypothetical that was uppermost in both of their minds.

If Claire had another baby, that could… potentially alter any sort of timeline they established for themselves.

They hadn’t talked about it. Not yet. At first, the grief had felt too tender to consider another, and then they had thrown themselves headlong into the spring planting season, relishing how the work and the bairns made it hard to think about anything else.

Did Claire even want to try? Jamie hadn’t dared to ask her, having been the only witness to her grief over the babe and knowing how it had scraped his own heart raw to love the wee thing so much in those too-brief months and then to lose it.

But the wistful, faraway look on her face just then…

Jamie reached for her hand, running his thumb over her knuckles. Brought her back to him.

“Is it selfish to wish for more?” she finally asked. “The life we have is good, Jamie, it’s so good. I’m so grateful for all of it, and I wouldn’t wish for anything more, except…”

“Aye, I ken, a ghraidh. It’s no’ selfish ‒ at least, I dinna think it is.”

“Would you want to try again? Even with all the risks?”

Not just the risk that the pregnancy wouldn’t progress, but the risks to Claire’s health as well… even though Brianna’s birth had gone smoothly, the risks with any pregnancy had been part of why they’d decided to stop having children at first.

“I’ve no life but you, Claire,” he murmured, his fingers brushing gently over her curls that had come loose and framed her face. Her gaze softened at his words, at his touch. “But if ye wanted another bairn… I would have a dozen or so with ye, Sassenach, if ye truly wanted it.”

She snorted at that. “No. Not that many. Good grief. If you keep saying twelve, I’m going to have to assume at some point, you’re serious about that,” she teased him, her sharp gaze a strong indication of how she felt about that. “But… one more, maybe. If… if it happens.”

That was all that was said on the subject as they finished their food, both a little more subdued with the dream of what could be.

“Are you finished?” Claire asked him, nodding to the basket.

“What’s yer hurry, Sassenach? I told Murtagh he’s in charge of the lassies for the rest o’ the day.”

She smiled, grabbing the basket and practically flinging it behind her. “I didn’t ask because I want to leave.” Her hand pressed against the center of his chest and he followed her lead, leaning backwards until he was flat on his back on the ground again. Claire’s knees straddled his hips and the delicious weight of her covered him.

“Aye, that’s good, then. Because I plan to have ye a number of ways before we return.”

“Oh?” she laughed, and ground her hips against him. “What are these plans? How many ways?”

His hands slid around to her backside and began to knead her round arse. “Once for each year of marriage,” he quipped.

She laughed at that, and he joined in with her. “There’s that ambition I admire so much.”

“I do love ye,” he murmured and leaned up to kiss her. She held his face tenderly in her hands and hummed softly when his tongue sought entrance to her mouth, and he wondered not for the first time what he’d ever done right to get to spend all of his days with Claire Beauchamp in his arms.

Her hips were rolling against him at a torturous pace and his patience had just about run out. He needed to be inside of her. There was a flurry of coordinated movement between them, skirts and kilt tugged out of the way until Claire’s hand finally wrapped around him.

She rose up on her knees over him with his hard length in her hand and teasing the tip of it at her entrance. It took every ounce of restraint on his part not to drive up into her. She smiled coyly, like she knew what she was doing to him.

“I could stop,” she said suddenly, and he was damn near about to curse her for being a tease when through the haze of his lust-addled brain, he noticed a flicker of nervousness in her eyes. “If we want to try for another baby right away, I could stop taking my‒”

“Aye.” He felt the small tug of a smile at his lips as realization sunk in. They’d never done that before ‒ never honest to god tried for a bairn ‒ but he found that he liked the idea very much. “Aye, stop taking yer special tea, Sassenach, and let’s see what happens.”

She sunk down then, bringing the full length of him into her, and they both groaned. Her hands planted on his chest to steady herself, and he clutched at the outside of her thighs and held on for dear life as she rode him to oblivion.

  **********

“I want a wee lass with yer hair,” he admitted unabashedly, his fingers smoothing over said curls as he spoke.

“It could be a boy,” she reminded him. Her head was pillowed on his chest and he was delightfully warm and solid beneath her. She never wanted to move from this spot.

“Oh, aye, I suppose a boy wi’ yer hair would do.”

This time she laughed at him and shook her head, tilted her head up to kiss the underside of his jaw. “You’re ridiculous.”

“How so?” She could hear the grin in his voice.

“We don’t even know if there will be another baby, let alone what kind of hair they might have.”

He made a soft hum of a noise and his hand came up to cradle her cheek. “I have faith, Sassenach. And… I had dreams that there was a wee babe with dark hair.”

“What dreams? When?”

“After ye went through the stones… before ye came and found us here in France. I dreamt of them a few times. I thought… I thought it was Brianna, ye ken? Since ye were carrying her then. But then she was born and looked nothing like the child I’d seen in my dreams for all those weeks.”

His words left a funny flutter in her belly. Her fingers delicately traced the lines of his collarbone as she formed the next sentence. “Maybe it was only what you imagined Brianna might look like,” she said softly.

“Perhaps, Sassenach, but… it felt real.”

  **********

“MAMA!”

Claire shaded the sun from her eyes as she followed the sound of Faith’s excited shriek. The wagon was jolting down the path to their home with Murtagh at the helm and Faith sitting ramrod straight at his side, waving one arm. They’d gone into the nearest town, fetching some supplies needed for the farm, but Murtagh also ‒ Claire didn’t doubt ‒ returned with some sort of sweets or small trinkets for the children.

Claire slowly stood to her feet, shaking dirt from the folds of her skirts and wiping her hands on her apron. The day had been perfectly lovely and she’d lost track of time, but evening was fast approaching and she should probably start on dinner while Murtagh and Jamie sorted the goods that they had returned with.

“Mama!”

Faith hopped down from the wagon, a bundle tucked close to her chest. Claire paused at the garden gate to wait for her daughter to catch up to her. Faith was running towards her, loose red curls flying wildly behind her.

“What did Murtagh get for you?”

The girl grinned broadly, showing off the gap where her two front teeth were missing, as her feet picked up the pace. “Not for me ‒ for all of us! Murtagh brought us letters!”

Claire felt a small thrill course through her. They hadn’t heard from Jenny and Ian since their devastating news in the winter ‒ hadn’t heard from anyone since then, come to that. Of course there were only a small number of people who even knew where to address a letter for them, but still…

She walked with Faith into the house, the girl barely containing her excitement. Any day when the post arrived was cause for excitement. Jamie had been in the barn and heard Murtagh’s approach and by the time Faith set the bundle down on the table, all of the Frasers were flocking into the room.

It was Jamie who unraveled their hoard, which had been put together for them by Jared. That was part of why letters could take so long to reach them ‒ everything passed through Jared’s residence first before being sent on to their vineyard, inconspicuously disguised as business between Jared and one Alexandre Beauchamp.

“Ye’ve a letter from Mary here, too, Sassenach.” He passed it to her and then cracked the seal on the largest envelope, disguised as a correspondence from his uncle but actually containing a number of smaller letters inside from Lallybroch.

“This one has yer name on it, Faith.”

Claire watched Jamie hand their girl her own letter, which Faith promptly snatched and immediately retreated to the parlor to read in peace. Claire caught Jamie’s gaze and shared a smile. Maggie and Faith had begun a correspondence as soon as they could both read and write, and it heartened both sets of parents to see their friendship flourish.

“Mary had her baby ‒ a girl this time,” Claire announced softly, skimming her friend’s letter. She felt Jamie’s gaze on her at that bit of news, but shrugged almost imperceptibly. Claire was fine. “They’re all doing well.”

There was only one letter this time from Jenny and Ian, and this one written in Jenny’s hand. Jamie silently skimmed the contents before he began reading it aloud to all of them, at the same time relenting to Brianna’s wordless demands to be held so she could try and read any of the small words that she knew for herself.

The letter was lengthy, filling them in on the state of Lallybroch, hinting at unrest with British troops still occupying the area, and giving an update on each of the Murray children. Jenny said little of her and Ian’s well-being, but hearing from them at all was encouraging to Claire.

Once read, the letters were tucked away until after supper when they all settled into the parlor for the evening. Faith apparently hadn’t finished hers and curled up next to Fergus to read it, stopping occasionally to point to a word and ask for Fergus’s help.

Brianna must’ve been worn out from the day because she crawled into Claire’s lap and hunkered down for the night, regaling Claire with the adventures of her day ‒ she was Jamie Fraser’s daughter alright, a storyteller by the time she could speak in full sentences. Claire listened to her, rocking them slightly.

Jamie got out the ink, quills, and parchment, and set up at the dining table instead of the study so Faith could join him. She was left-handed like Jamie and still developing her writing skills, so while Jamie drafted a letter to Jenny and Ian, he helped Faith with her spelling and how to hold the quill and not drag her hand through the wet ink on the page.

As soon as Faith had left his side, Fergus moved over to the sofa where Claire had claimed one end with Brianna. He stretched out along the remaining space on the sofa and laid his head in Claire’s lap next to Brianna, and began interjecting into her stories with his own contradicting remarks, just to tease her. It made Brianna giggle, even as she stubbornly argued with him, helplessly taking the bait.

Claire brushed a hand over Fergus’s curls. He wasn’t often this affectionate of late, unless it was around the little ones, like he was just then.

That was alright, Claire told herself. Her heart was full with having Bree and Fergus so close ‒ weighed down by them even and unable to move from that spot. There was nowhere else she’d rather be in that moment.

When Faith finished writing letters with Jamie, she wandered into the parlor in search of the others. Claire caught the flash of jealousy in Faith’s eyes upon seeing her siblings both cuddled up on the sofa with their mother.

That Faith was going to join them was obvious to Claire, but she upset the calm by running and landing on Fergus’s stomach and rolling into Claire’s side ‒ making space for herself and forcing them all to accept it.

Fergus’s yelp of surprise turned into a groan and he shoved her knees off of his chest.

“Faith! Don’t hurt your brother like that!”

The smile vanished from the girl's face as she looked back at Fergus, silently assessing if he was indeed hurt.

At her obvious concern, Fergus huffed loudly. “I’m alright, ma petite chérie. This time,” he added, to discourage recurrence.

“You three are such trouble.” Claire thought it often, but hadn’t meant to say it out loud just then.

“Moi?” Fergus squawked at her. “What have I done?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?” She laughed as she said it, but she knew from the way he quieted down that he was recalling the moment Claire had interrupted him and Minnette last week.

Faith settled into Claire’s side, absolved of all guilt and refusing to acknowledge that she was any sort of trouble. Her hands wrapped around Claire’s arm and she rested her head against her shoulder.

“What did you write to Maggie about?” Claire asked her.

“I told her about Marcel and my teeth that fell out and the verra mean chicken that almost got me last week.”

Fergus’s brows scrunched together. “What mean chicken?”

At mention of the chicken, Brianna was also roused and sat up a little straighter in Claire’s lap. “One o’ the white ones! She dot mad at us when me an’ Faith were collecting eggs!” She folded her chubby hand into a beak and pecked at Fergus’s shoulder. “Tried to bite us. Like that!”

Faith nodded solemnly. “Almost got Brianna, but I scared it away.”

“You did?” Claire hadn’t heard that part before. She brushed Faith’s flyaway curls away from her forehead and pressed a kiss there. “Thank you for looking out for your sister.”

“Not gonna let a dumb wee chicken get her, Mama…”

She buried her laugh in the crown of Faith’s head. “No. Of course not.” She knew it would always be like this between the three siblings; they might drive each other mad but nothing and no one else would hurt one of them if they could stop it. It was something Claire understood second-hand ‒ she’d seen it with Jamie and Jenny, and now with her own children, how they loved and fought so fiercely.

They’d be so good with a new baby sibling.

The thought came unbidden and Claire’s throat swelled with emotion. They would, especially at their ages now. Faith bossed Brianna around something fierce but she always looked out for her. And Fergus… he wouldn’t be with them for too much longer if he started his studies in the fall next year, but there was no one as protective of his siblings as Fergus. Claire didn’t think that would go away when he did, it just might look a little different. And their little Brianna… darling Bree could be a wonderful big sister, given the chance. And Claire already held these tender imaginings from before, and when the baby was gone, there was nowhere for those feelings to go.

Her heart still wanted it so badly, and she could see how a baby might simply slide right into their life here, like the final missing puzzle piece snapping into place. Could be held in the arms of one of these siblings while they were all snuggled so close on the sofa just now.

Her chest ached with want for that life.

If it happened again for them…

It could happen for them, she corrected herself, holding a little more tightly to hope.

  **********

By the time the girls should be getting ready for bed, they were both passed out in the parlor, having been lulled to sleep by Jamie and Murtagh’s tales. Jamie carried Brianna up the stairs while Fergus had gathered Faith into his arms. Claire followed behind them, and once Fergus had set Faith on her bed, Claire carefully peeled Faith’s outer layers from her until she was left in a light shift, good enough for a nightgown in this instance.

She kissed Faith’s cheek and tucked her under the covers, and turned to see Jamie press a kiss behind Brianna’s ear with practiced aim. The little girl’s birthmark was mostly covered by her hair now, but Jamie had kissed that spot so many times throughout her infancy, he could find it without the aid of sight.

They tiptoed out of the room with bated breath, and as soon as Claire closed the door behind them, she felt Jamie crowding her space in the dark hallway. Fergus had no doubt long since made himself scarce, so when she felt the touch of Jamie’s lips against her own, she leaned into the kiss.

“Ye looked so happy wi’ all yer bairns around ye tonight, Sassenach.”

She felt her eyes get misty, but the ache wasn’t quite so overwhelming now. More than anything, she felt immeasurably grateful for the three who had already made her a mother. Her hands curled at the back of his neck, and she found his gaze even in the dark. “They make me very happy. And so do you. And I know we’re going to try, but if… if this family is never more than what it is, it’s still so very perfect. And I just needed you to know that.”

“Mo nighean donn,” Jamie sighed, “Ye do break my heart with loving you.”

His next kiss was soft and lingered long enough that she forgot they were still in the hallway until she felt Jamie’s hands at her backside.

“I will love this life with ye no matter what happens,” he whispered. “But to be clear, I take my duties in this endeavor verra seriously. And I dinna think we’ll fail.”

She didn’t have a chance to respond ‒ in fact, she barely managed to smother a yelp of surprise when he suddenly lifted her off her feet. “Jesus Christ!”

“No’ quite, a nighean,” he chuckled as he walked them into their bedroom. Claire grabbed the edge of the door and swung it shut behind them.

  **********

Late Fall 1750

“That’s no’ yer usual tea, is it, Sassenach?”

She peered at him over the rim of her steaming mug and took a sip before answering. He was smiling at her. He knew ‒ of course he knew. Smug bastard.

“It’s not,” she answered primly. She hadn’t made any of that kind since their anniversary.

“What is it then?” He was already moving across the kitchen to her, his joy so obvious that it stole her breath away.

“It’s ginger tea,” she murmured, for he was close enough now to speak softly to him. She swallowed thickly when he pressed a kiss to her forehead and held his face there, notched so perfectly against her own, breathing the same air as her, waiting. “It’s good for morning sickness.”

#jamie x claire #outlander #faith fraser #tbbfiy #the best by far is you #outlander fic #my fic #i actually canna believe this is finished 😭😭😭 #what a journey #thanks for all the love #truly means the world

[brian-in-finance]

Screenshot: Outlander-Online

S04E08 Wilmington • 23 December 2018 Official Script

Outlander Rewatch 2023 Countdown To Season 7

Favourite Word

What a lugubrious performance. — Martha Washington

Favourite Line

I see now why your husband claims he cannot live without you in the wilderness. — Governor Tryon

Gifs: @blogilyeverafter

Favourite Image

There's no other man I'd rather see. — Murtagh

Gifs: @themusicsweetly

Photo: Starz

Remember… bein' a mother to a wee bairn... My heart is so full o' love it's fit to burst... — Marsali Fraser

50th of 75 • Monday, 22 May 2023

#Tait rhymes with hat #Good times #Outlander #Rewatch 2023 #Countdown To Season 7 #50th of 75 #Three-quarters mark #S04E08 Wilmington #Aired 23 December 2018 #Rewatched 22 May 2023

[renee-writer]

Single Chapter 25

AO3

The banging on the door couldn’t be ignored. Nor could the rough voice demanding entry. 

 

In the middle of the wonderful post orgasmic bliss, it was hard to move. Still, Jamie finds the strength, pulling his breaks back on as Claire pulls the covers up to cover herself.

 

Murtagh isn’t  patient.

 

As soon as Jamie opens the door, he hurries in. Seeing Claire ‘s face grinning at him, he almost falls on his knees.

 

“Mistress Fraser! You are really here!”

 

She wants to jump up and hug him and would if it wasn’t for her state of undress.

 

“I am. As are you. I thought you dead.”

 

He chuckles. “As did I you, mistress.”

 

“Murtagh, if you would allow us time to get dressed, we will explain all and introduce you to our child.”

 

He turns to Jamie. “Aye. I shall wait outside.” With another look to Claire, he slips back out.

 

They sit in the great room. Brianna is in her mama’s lap, staring at the newest person she meet.

 

“So sending her through the Stones was the only thing to do.”

 

“The bees. Bree didn’t like the bees.”

Murtagh looks to her. He had been stunned by the sight of Jamie’s daughter. The lass was almost the split of him at her age. She held his heart, immediately.

 

“Nae, of course not. Bees are very useful though.”

 

She studies the man who looks a bit like Father Christmas. Her mama and daddy said he was something called a Godfather.

 

“Bees sting Bree, make her cry.”

 

“Well that bee is surely dead. Any other bee that tries to sting you, Murtagh will stop.”

 

She tilts her head and studies him. “Promise?”

 

“On my honor, lass.”

 

She climbs down and walks over to him. Her arms go up. “Bree up.” He looks to Claire. She nods through wet eyes.  He lifts her up. She settles into his lap. The old man beams.

 

“She trusts your heart.” Claire is amazed. Bree is a cautious child. She must know  that  he is a good man.

 

“Blood calls to blood. The lass kens family.”

 

“I shall protect her with my life.”

 

With Bree settled, they finish telling him the story.

 

“Will you marry Mary?” Jamie asks, “Have a wee lass or lad of your own?”

 

He looks down at Brianna. She has taken his hand and is comparing it to her own. He never gave thought about being a father. After Jamie’s mam choose his cousin, Brian, over him, the whole idea of marriage was forgotten. Now though, to help them out, to help the widow Mary and her lad, to have a chance to hold his own bairn…

 

“Aye, if the lass be agreeable.”

 

They all smile.

#my writing #outlander fanfic #single #chapter 25 #jamie and claire #outlander fandom #cannon divergence

[frasers-of-my-heart]

To Make a Family and a Home

Here’s the beginning of a wee added scene to the beginning of 4x04 episode Common Ground before Claire and Jamie head to Fraser’s Ridge. Fergus and Jamie discuss fatherhood and partnership, Jamie and Claire have a moment ❤️

You can find the rest on Ao3 here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48500965

Fergus was sitting beside Marsali, tenderly rubbing her back as she bent over the pot in the corner of their room. She was deep in the throes of morning sickness—hardly able to stomach anything to begin with and what she did, often came back up. When she had expelled everything she could, they went downstairs to join Jamie and Claire. Marsali sidled up to Claire while she was stocking up on supplies, wanting to consult her on possible remedies, desperate for some relief. She was grateful for the bairn (even if the wean had come along much sooner than she’d anticipated), but everytime she emptied the contents of her stomach, she found it a little bit harder to feel that way…

Fergus found Jamie outside of the inn, desiring some consultation of his own. “Ahem, Milord …”

“Aye, Fergus?” Jamie looked up from the rudimentary map he had been studying ahead of the journey out of Wilmington and toward their future home. Fergus was rubbing his wooden hand with the one composed of tissue, tendons, and muscle. Jamie was very familiar with this gesture, not terribly unlike his own unconscious fingers drumming at the side of his leg presently. Any time that Fergus was nervous, he would rub the wooden palm with his thumb—almost polishing it with his compulsive circular motions.

“I hardly remember when Milady was with child back in Paris, with Faith… but I… I know you worried for her, yes?”

Jamie took his glasses off and blinked back the emotion that came with the memories of that time. Of Claire growing rounder, until she didn’t. Of Faith never making it home. “Of course. I dinna trust a man who doesna worry for the woman carrying his bairn.”

“Marsali has been so sick. I cannot help but feel that I have cursed her.”

“Every day for those first months, Claire was sicker than Young Ian after his first night out in Edinburgh wi’ ye.”

“Mon Dieu ,” Fergus laughed, recalling that night and proceeding day, “he was greener than un grenouille ! Did you not feel guilty for making her that way?”

Want to read the rest? 👇

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48500965

#outlander #jamie fraser #claire fraser #jamie x claire #fergus fraser #marsali fraser #my fic #season 4 #brianna fraser #faith fraser

[multistoty]

@dreamingonthedaily​

Brianna had taken Jemmy to the ridge with the intention of telling her parents the good news only to find her mother absent for the day to aid another of her never ending flood of patience. It would probably be to soon to tell, but they all needed some joy in their life after everything that happened and continued too. Her brother, fergus, having put a large weight on himself and with that the rest of their little family. Watching Jamie on his knees with his grandson would make any woman melt. Part of her wished for these moments of joy where he made jemmy laugh and had that twinkle of his bright orbs that only family brought. Jamie loved vastly. Once she had thought that he looked like such for everyone he cared for, her redheaded father had a particularly different look to those with which God had helped him create. Brianna was echoes of those before her. A marvel to a man who dreamed of his ‘wee bairn’ even before her mother had stepped into the picture from the future. The little boy seemed greatly invested in whatever game her father had just instructed him about in low, conspiratorial whispers. Her smile had not lapsed. Acting on impulse, the girl decided that this could be special for the man who had chosen to love her until the oceans were dust. Jamie Fraser was in the fabric of her memory and life. It was a wonder how she had gone so long with that very puzzle piece missing. Catching his eye, a curtain of red hair tilted with her head indicating the now quiet kitchen. She hoped her look expressed joy with the cavot of importance. Bree was so much more than her womb, but she had wanted this for so long. It had made her quite bitter as they struggled to concieve. Skirts ran a length along the swept floors as the girl made her way to the room in hopes he would follow. Her arms leaning elegantly along the counter top as her eyes flicked to the bear of a man at her side. “Da- your so good with him.” She started with fondness that slightly broke her voice. Those moments were as precious as the pearls of his mother’s knecklace. “I have news. Good news. And your the first person I am going to tell.” Besides Roger, of course, she added in her mind.

[legends-of-time]

The Strength of a High and Noble Hill (Outlander)

Chapter 35: Is It Happily After?

Masterlist

Ellen and Roger are finally getting married. Those attending the wedding congregate in the tent at the Mount Helicon Gathering. Roger lingers at the front along with the minister, who's Protestant much to Jamie's chagrin.

Brian is babysitting Jemmy for the ceremony though his nephew has become a little fussy, looking for his mother and trying to reach for his father.

"Uh, no, Jem, please." Brian murmurs, trying to hold down the five-month-old.

"You look busy." A voice speaks.

"Mmh?" He is slightly startled by the man in front of him.

The man in front of him is tall with a thin, wiry build. His hair is black and his eyes are blue with high cheekbones.

He gestures to Brian's nephew. "The little rascal you're holding."

A man with a nice Welsh accent.

Brian clears his throat and chuckles slightly. "Yeah, a bit."

"He yours?"

"Uh, no, no. He's my sister's. She's getting married today." Brian quickly replies.

Is it Brian's imagination or does this guy look relieved?

"You're Jamie Fraser's son." He speaks.

"One of them, yes."

"Mmm." The man frowns. "Wait, the boy's your sisters and she's getting married? Today?"

Brian narrows his eyes. "Yes," his sharp, "what's wrong with that?"

"Nothing, nothing. Sorry." He hurriedly apologises. "Was making a joke that clearly didn't land well."

"No, it didn't." Brian retorts.

"Sorry," he chuckles, "terrible first impression." He clears his throat. "I'm Brynmor Jones." He offers his hand.

Yeah, definitely Welsh.

Briam smiles slightly, shaking his hand. "Brian. This rascal is Jeremiah."

Brynmor receives a gummy smile.

"What settlement are you from?" He questions curiously.

Brynmor's features darken. "Hillsborough."

Brian winces. "Oh, er, I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault." Brynmor reassures him.

"Brian! Hello!" Lizzie interrupts, stopping Brian from saying anything else. She hurries over with a slight blush on her face. She tucks a loose strand up under her cap. "I-I can take care o’ Jeremiah, no problem. Ye shouldn’t be troubled with the wee bairn."

He knows she's trying to be helpful plus the apparent crush she still has in him, but Brian can't help but feel offended at the implication that he can't look after his own nephew.

"No, need Lizzie." Brian says, trying to sound calm but his voice comes out a little sharp. "I'm fine."

She blushes and nods, leaving. Brian lets out a huff.

"She's nice." Brynmor comments.

"She's annoying." Brian grumbles.

He receives a curious look. "You don't like her?"

"No."

"Maybe you need maturity." Brynmor remarks casually.

"A mature woman?" Brian questions.

"Sure..." a shrug, "if that's what you want." With that, Brynmor saunters off with Brian spluttering after him.

——

Brian holds onto Jemmy and stands up with everyone else, cheering and applauding as Mama is the first one to come down the aisle. She smiles at Brian as she goes past to say a quick word to Roger, then goes to her place in the audience next to Brian. She gives her grandson a soft pinch on the cheek.

Da and Ellen are right behind her. Ellen is dressed in a homespun dress, complete with some appropriate thistle embroidery along with their paternal Grandmother's pearls. Brian knows Da has gifted Ellen a silver sixpence from Murtagh, who can't attend the wedding since he's in hiding. Da brings her to meet Roger, then bows and joins Mama and Brian at the front.

The bride and groom step onto the altar before the priest, and the congregation all sit back down.

"Dearly beloved," Pastor Caldwell begins, "we are assembled here teday in the presence o’ God. Let us therefore reverently remember that God has established and sanctified marriage fer the welfare and kindness o’ mankind."

——

Brian stares wide-eyed as David pulls away. Their lips slightly parted and their cheeks red. Music for the end-of-year dance plays in the background.

June 1961

David bites his lip but doesn't look away from him, doesn't pull his hand away. Then, he asks, "So?"

"Huh?" Brian says dumbly, not understanding.

"Great, thanks man." David remarks sarcastically. He grins. "I meant, you're welcome, now you've kissed someone."

"Erm, er, yeah, thanks man. Great." Brian says, quietly, clearing his throat and laughing it off when David winks at him.

"Yeah, sure." David says. "What are friends for." He snorts a laugh. "Well, to practice-kiss, apparently."

Brian forces a chuckle.

A girl, Kimberly, interrupts causing them to spring away from each other.

"Hey! There you guys are! They're about to play Pony Time!" She grins, bouncing on the balls of her feet before running off.

David flashes him a grin and leaves.

Brian sits there quietly, eyes wide, and raises a trembling hand to his lips. Okay, yeah, he definitely likes boys as well as girls.

——

A/N: A bit of trivia, David appeared in chapter 8 when Brian is in the National Gallery in London on a school trip.

Please leave comments on how you're enjoying this story and what you think.

#outlander

[bee-kathony]

Fraser Memorial | Ch. 9 “Spontaneity” 

a/n: Thank you always to @sassenachwaffles for being my beta on this! 

Ch. 1 - Sutures | Ch. 2 - Maybe This Time | Ch. 3 - Movie Date | Ch. 4 - Two Pink Lines | Ch. 5 - Boss’s Boss | Ch. 6 - Grapefruits | Ch. 7 - The Stables | Ch. 8 - Bear This Pain 

June 2016

Sometimes things don’t go as you expect them to. Like most of our wedding vendors cancelling nearly last minute, giving us no explanation, but telling us we would get our money back. Jamie and I were supposed to be getting married in two weeks, on June twenty-ninth, but now, the wedding looked like it wouldn’t be happening.

We had come to visit Jamie’s family at Lallybroch, and make final arrangements for the wedding because we would be having it here. Ever since yesterday morning when I received three calls all in the same day, cancelling our cake, flowers and band, I had been distant from Jamie and the occupants of Lallybroch.

“Sassenach?” I heard Jamie enter the room.

“Hmmm,” I hummed, sitting in a chair by the fire in our room. Jamie came to stand in front of me and I could feel the uneasiness flow from him. When I didn’t look up, he crouched down on his knees, sliding his palm over my leg.

“Do ye still want to get marrit, Claire?”

That made me look at him, his blue eyes watery, fear etched on his features. Silently, I leaned forward, sliding my hands on his shoulders and pulled him to me, holding him to my chest.

“Yes.” I nodded, feeling the overwhelming sense of failure crash over me. I just wanted our wedding to be perfect. “That’s the only thing I want, Jamie.”

Jamie placed a soft kiss to the base of my neck, then pulled back to look at me, his hands gripping mine. “I ken ye wanted a weddin’ wi’ all the normal stuff a weddin’ is supposed to have.”

“Like cake, flowers, a band, and maybe some guests!” I laughed. Over the last month, we had received RSVP’s from our guests and half had said they couldn’t attend. If I believed in superstitions, then I would take this as a sign to not get married to Jamie.

“That would be nice, aye,” Jamie chuckled. “But at the end of the day, Sassenach, ’tis you and me that will be gettin’ married. It’s a promise we make to one another, a vow.”

“I know that,” I pressed my fingers lightly to his cheek. “That’s why I wanted everything to be perfect. For us.”

Jamie bent his head, his eyes lingering on his hand on my leg. “What if we got married tomorrow? Here at Lallybroch?”

“Without any of our guests?” I asked, and my mind started trying to come up with a list of reasons why we shouldn’t get married tomorrow, but I came up short.

“Aye, just you and me. My family. Our family. What more do we need, Sassenach?”

I sat back in the chair and my head turned towards the wardrobe. I thanked God and Jenny Murray that I had decided to keep my dress here at Lallybroch, because Jamie would be less likely to take a peek than if it was at our home.

“Let’s do it,” I smiled. “Let’s get bloody married tomorrow!”

Jamie grinned, and then pressed his lips against mine, his body pinning me to the chair. I felt his hands slide around me and soon I was being held in his arms bridal style. “What are you doing?” I laughed.

“I’m carrying my soon to be bride downstairs,” he laughed and started walking towards the door. “We’ll tell our family the great news that there’s to be a weddin’ tomorrow and then we’ll call the priest!”

++++++

I went to sleep that night in a different bed than Jamie, but when I woke up, he was there. He was laying next to me, hand propping up his head, a smirk on his face. “Morning, Sassenach.”

“You’re not supposed to be here,” I grumbled, wiping my hands over my sleepy eyes.

“Aye, but I couldna wait to see ye,” he smiled and leaned in to kiss me.

I wrapped my leg around his waist and he rolled on top of me, bracing himself on his arms. “The honeymoon isna supposed to start until tonight, Sassenach.” Jamie laughed, then kissed me slowly, his tongue sliding across my lips.

“Nothing has gone the way we wanted it to,” I moved one hand to the front of his boxers and he moaned. “If I want to start the honeymoon now…” I bit his lip, “We’ll bloody start it now, Fraser.”

“Oooo a wee vixen,” Jamie laughed and his body pressed down on mine.

++++++

I stood in the kitchen, nervously smacking my lips that I had just coated with a light pink lipstick. I felt slightly overdressed now that we would be having the wedding in Jamie’s family living room, but I knew this was the right decision.

Jenny came through the door, wearing her bridesmaids dress and I felt better. I was thankful that I hadn’t gone all out on the dress. It was very simple, a cream colored linen gown with a thin band around the middle and quarter length sleeves.

“Are ye ready, Claire?” She smiled, handing me a small bouquet of wildflowers she had just picked this morning.

“Yes. More than,” I hugged her, holding her tightly. I wouldn’t only be marrying Jamie, but I would have a new family, and after spending so many years missing that part of myself, I finally felt like I was coming home.

“We better get out there, or I think Jamie will come and fetch ye himself! Rather impatient that one,” Jenny rolled her eyes.

“I’m ready,” I nodded and she walked through the kitchen door. I followed down a short hallway that led to the living room.

There they stood. Brian and Ian, standing next to Jamie near the unlit fireplace, and Ellen, holding baby Maggie and standing next to a restless young Jamie. When Jamie and I first started dating, the prospect of dating the owner of the hospital’s son felt like a much bigger deal than it really was. I had grown close with Jamie’s parents and felt safe and comforted by their presence.

Every girl that dreams of her wedding, imagines that her father would be the one to walk her down the aisle, so when Brian stepped forward and offered his arm out to me to lead me the rest of the way to Jamie, I nearly burst into tears.

“Ye look beautiful, Claire.” Brian kissed me on the cheek and then passed me over into Jamie’s hands. I gripped them tight, not wanting to ever let go.

“Mo ghraidh,” he smiled. “Ye are the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen.”

“I sure hope so!” I said, making everyone, including the old priest laugh. “You’re not too bad yourself,” I whistled and looked him up and down, dressed in kilt and jacket, he was dashing.

“Shall we begin?” The priest said and we turned our attention to him.

Jamie and I repeated after Father Bain, vowing to love one another in sickness and in health, for richer for poorer and til death us do part.

Young Jamie came forward with the rings, beaming as he did so, proud of his one task. My fingers shook as Jamie slid my ring over my finger and then he squeezed it tight before I slid his ring on his hand.

The next bit of the ceremony, I was feeling quite nervous about. I thought it a bit pagan when all was said and done, but Jamie really only cared that this part of his culture be included today.

Brian came to stand before us, pulling out a small sgina dubh from his sporran and a piece of white cotton fabric. I held out my arm next to Jamie’s, wincing slightly as the blade slid quickly across my wrist.

“Are ye alright, Sassenach?” Jamie asked, folding his arm over mine, pressing our wrists together.

I nodded, trying to concentrate on anything other than the faint smell of blood. You would think I would be used to blood because I work in a hospital, but when it’s my own blood, I tend to get a little queasy at the sight.

Brian tied the white fabric around and around our wrists, and then went to stand by Ellen, his arm around her waist, no doubt remembering their own wedding day.

“Repeat after me,” Jamie smiled and began to speak in Gaelic. I repeated the best I could, stumbling over a few of the pronunciations. Jamie said this was an old Gaelic blood vow, something his parents did and his grandparents before them.

“Ye are Blood of my Blood and Bone of my Bone. I give ye my Body, that we Two might be One. I give ye my Spirit, 'til our Life shall be Done.”

“Ye may kiss yer bride,” Father Bain said cheerfully. With our wrists still tied together, Jamie leaned in, his other hand cupping my cheek and kissed me deeply. Claps and shouts of celebration went around the room and I melted against Jamie. It was so simple - no fuss - nothing but us and the people we loved most in the world around us.

I knew I wouldn’t hear the end of it from Geillis, so I would have to make it up to her by letting her take me out for a post wedding bachelorette party. Jamie untied our wrists, placing his lips gently against the wound before covering it with a fresh bandage.

“I love ye, Sassenach, so much I think my heart will burst!” Jamie smiled, kissing me again.

“I love you, Jamie. God I love you,” I pressed my forehead against his and we stood there for a time, simply holding each other. Our family went in the kitchen, I knew to pull out the food for celebration, but Jamie and I held each other in the middle of his living room.

“We’re mated for life, ye and I.”

Pulling back, I ran my thumb over his lips, “Aye, like penguins,” I laughed.

“My bonny penguin,” Jamie kissed me. “Are ye hungry?”

I slid my hand over my stomach, “Starving!”

“Let’s feed ye then, Mrs. Fraser.” Jamie slid his hand around my waist, and led us into the kitchen where we were greeted with more cheers and a chant for us to kiss. Christ… I love my family.

Present Day - December 2018

We all took care of the twins in shifts. I knew the first few months would be the hardest, adjusting to life with a newborn, let alone two newborns wasn’t an easy task. Thankfully, Jenny and Jamie’s mother helped as much as they could. It’d only been three weeks since Malcolm and Lilidh had come into the world and already it was a better place because of them.

When I wasn’t falling asleep on the couch after breastfeeding, I was changing a diaper or trying to eat something that resembled food. I was on maternity leave from the hospital, but Jamie was only able to get one month off, even being the head of the hospital, he had a lot of responsibilities that couldn’t just be pushed aside. That meant that in a week’s time, it would be me and the twins on our own.

Ellen promised to stop by at least once a day, which I was extremely grateful for, but I knew it wouldn’t and couldn’t be like this for all the twins lives. At some point, it would just be me, them and Jamie.

It was one of those rare quiet moments, when the twins had fallen asleep at the same time. They were in their nursery, breathing deeply, small smiles on their faces and I had crept away to find peace in the kitchen. I had just reached for a container of cookie dough when Jamie walked through the front door, back from the store with food and a butt ton of diapers.

“Hello, love.” Jamie smiled, dropping the bags near the entrance of the house. He kissed me on the cheek, wrapping one arm around my waist and then looked down at my hands. “Ye ken yer no supposed to eat raw cookie dough, Sassenach…”

“Everyone does it Jamie, besides,” I opened the lid and swiped my finger through the mixture, “It’s delicious.” I held my finger in front of his mouth and could almost see his tongue salivate.

His eyes squinted, mouth smirking, but he opened his lips and took my finger, cookie dough and all, into his mouth.

“Aye, yer right.” He smacked his lips, and reached his own finger in for another glob of the stuff. “Carry on, mo nighean.”

Laughing, I closed the fridge door and took a seat on one of the bar stools. “Did you enjoy your adventure out there in the real world?”

Jamie grabbed the bags from the store and started to unload them one by one. “Och, of course I did. The lights,” he sighed, “the people, the smells! Christ, Sassenach, a whole world out there that isna all bairns and shite.”

I covered my mouth to stop from laughing loudly, and looked down the hallway where I knew the twins would be sleeping soundly.

“But they’re so cute!” I half whispered, and took another bite of the cookie dough. I made sort of an orgasmic sound at the taste, feeling both of Jamie’s eyes boring into mine. “What?” I mumbled.

“Ye dinna make sounds like that, Sassenach.” He said, placing both hands on the counter. “Not when ye’ve got yer wee finger in yer mouth and there’s no one but us and sleepin’ bairns in the house.”

“What sounds? I don’t make sounds,” I lied, quirking one eyebrow. Jamie walked around the counter slowly, his eyes still on me. He came to stand before me, his gaze traveling from my lips back to the container of cookie dough.

“Aye, ye do make sounds, Sassenach. Lots of wee noises,” Jamie smirked, scooping a bit of cookie dough onto his finger and brought it too my lips. “Suck, mo nighean.”

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ,” I muttered, committing my soul to God and opened my mouth, taking Jamie’s long finger with the dough on my tongue. The sweet, chocolatey flavor of the cookie dough, mixed with the saltiness of Jamie’s skin was the perfect combination. I closed my eyes, swirling my tongue around his finger, and moaned softly.

“There’s one I havena heard in awhile,” Jamie laughed, his other hand sliding across my knee, traveling slowly up my thigh. Just as I opened my eyes and leaned up to kiss him, I heard the familiar cry of Malcolm and let out a large groan.

“Your son has the worst timing,” I laughed and stood to Jamie’s objections.

“Och, so now he’s only my son when he interrupts the proceedings of tryin’ to bed ye?” Jamie laughed, following me down the hallway to the nursery.

“You’ve got that right, Fraser.” We came into the nursery, and Jamie went to Malcolm who was crying, kicking his little legs out — poor lad.

“Shhh, mo chuisle, it’s yer Da.” Jamie hushed him, cradling him to his chest. I looked over at Lilidh and she was still fast asleep, her thumb in her mouth — taking after her mama. Walking around the small crib, I came to stand behind Jamie, sliding my hand around his waist, resting my head on his back. He started to sway gently, rocking Malcolm and whispering sweet things in Gaelic that I didn’t understand.

“Yer mam and I love ye verra much, lad. Dinna forget it,” Jamie spoke softly in English and finally after awhile, Malcolm stopped crying. “And we love yer wee sister too, don’t we mo cridhe?”

“And we always will,” I smiled and pressed my lips against Jamie’s back, swaying with him as we rocked our son back to sleep.

#fraser memorial #jamie fraser #claire fraser #jamie x claire #outlander fanfiction #ch 9 #bairns #twins #fraser wee bairns #mclairefras #they got married sae cute

[thegirlwiththecoffintattoo]

As my babe.

#outlander edit #outlander season 3 #outlander season 4 #3x02 surrender #4x09 the birds and the bees #jamie fraser #claire fraser #brianna mackenzie #jamie and brianna meet #journeys end #drums of autumn #my wee bairn #my emotions #nighean__donn

[lady-o-ren]

My Dearest Disaster

// Jamie Fraser finally meets the girl of his dreams … too bad anytime he gets near her disaster strikes and he ends up in the hospital //

Chapter One // Chapter Two // Chapter Three ao3 link (HERE)

Chapter Three

It's late November now in Edinburgh. The sky is thick with wooly gray clouds and the air carries the prickly promise of a winter chill.

Jamie's been spending the day with his sister as her own personal pack mule, shopping for the bairn to be. She's seven months along now and looks like she's carrying around a watermelon beneath her gray coat. An observation he thoughtlessly (stupidly!) shares with her and why he's now walking with a limp.

Big bellied she may be but Jenny was quick as a cat with nails twice as sharp and killer aim too.

Though at the moment she's sweeter than the hot cider she's sipping on, cheeks round and flushed as holly, but her eyes are searching every shop she passes, with a loving hand on her protruding belly.

“Hungry?” Jamie asks, with a helpful hand of support against her back as they walk up an incline. Jenny gives him a grateful smile.

"Always. The bairn has me eating everything from pickled pig trotters to curly wurlys. Sometimes I even get a hankering to eat them together.”

"Together?!"

She nods, chuckling at Jamie's grossed out expression, and tosses her empty cup into a street side bin.

"Ian has the same look whenever he catches me eating the trotters straight from the jar and sipping the brine. Says I'm marinating puir wee Jamie."

The elder Jamie shivers.

"Ye're giving birth to a monster, Jen. Ye ken that right?"

"I've been wondering the verra same," she says, rather untroubled, while rubbing her belly with glowing affection. "I asked Mam if she had any filthy cravings wi' us. She said nothing strange wi' me, just a strong need for crisps every hour of the day, but wi' you . . .

Jenny then goes on and on about what terrors Jamie inflicted on their poor mother's digestion and how she still gets a sick hankering for cold haggis with ketchup before stopping mid-sentence.

“Oh, did mam tell ye what her auld goat is doing?”

“Auld goat?”

“Murtagh, ye big numpty! Mam says he's been tinkering in his shed trying to make something special for the bairn.”

“Does she ken what?” Jamie smiles, imagining his grouch of a godfather covered head to toe in pastel paints, hammering away at something wee for the child.

Jenny shakes her head, hands diving into her pockets when a cool wind skirts over her.

“If she does she won't tell me. Only that he's good wi’ his hands so expect something bloody spectacular.”

“Aye, he's been a great help around Lallybroch lately. Loves it as much as we and mam do.”

Jenny stops walking and cocks her head to one side, keenly scrutinizing her younger brother.

“Ye ken I've always regretted putting ye in my pram when we were bairns, Jamie. Never did I think ye'd bounce right out to the pavement heid first. Now here we are and ye’re still no better than a half-wit. ”

Jamie narrows his eyes at her.

“What are ye on about, Jenny?”

She snorts. “Ye ken ye’re just proving my point. Now come here and let me see if ye've still got that massive dent in yer skull.”

Jenny then tugs him by the lapel of his jacket down to her level (though she still has to tiptoe to reach him).

"Be still, Ruadh!"

“Ye wee flea! I haven'a got anything wrong wi' m’heid!” protests Jamie, as he squirms beneath his sister's surprisingly iron-strong grasp as passerbys give the Fraser siblings odd looks. Something they both are accustomed to and have long stopped caring about.

“Ha! I was right!” She grins, ruffling his ginger locks before letting him loose. “Still flatter than a bannock and hard as a damn rock.”

“And ye’re still the wee she-devil I've always kent ye for,” he growls, trying to smooth his hair one handed while balancing her bags with his other.

Jenny throws her head back and cackles like the wicked thing she is and locks her arm around Jamie's.

"Til my last breath, m'lad."

As they walk, the street lights begin to flicker on like fireflies, reflecting their dewy glare in the windows of the shops they pass. One in particular catches Jenny's eye that the bairn kicks their feet too.

// EYE OF THE THAI-GER //

“That's it!” Jenny points with the excitement of a child.

Jamie eyes the restaurant up ahead warily.

“Drowning my wee namesake in chilis now?”

She snorts. “I'll spoil my bairn however I like, especially when their uncle is paying. Now come on before I get a taste for trotters again and drown ye in the brine.”

Jenny skips on ahead with a surprising light foot, long straight hair flying behind her, and all Jamie can do is puff his cheeks out with a sigh as he follows her.

It's not that he didn't like Thai food. He loved it. But just smelling the basil spiced aroma waft under his nose was enough to remind him of that one dinner where he flirted with disaster.

He could even feel his tongue start to swell.

In fact . . .

Jamie began to feel a familiar warning itch across the back of his neck spreading like a rash and frantically looked every which way knowing what that meant.

Who was drawing near.

But he needn't look far.

There, walking out of the restaurant, was Claire Beauchamp.

"Shite," chokes Jamie, and grabs his sister's arm, steering her away. "Let's go somewhere else, Jen. Anywhere else. Wherever yer wretched heart pleases. Just -"

Jenny plants her feet and twists her wrist, yanking Jamie to a stop.

"I'm not going anywhere until ye tell me what's got into ye."

Jamie's eyes dash over her head where Claire for the moment is too distracted to notice him as she waves goodbye to the friends she'd been dining with.

Jenny follows his gaze and instantly puts it together.

"Oh, that's her, isn't it? The sassenach."

"Aye. Now unless ye want to see me splayed on the street with my skull cracked open, ye'll take pity on yer only brother and start moving yer big yeti feet."

Hearing the desperate pleading in Jamie's voice, Jenny for once does as she's told (taking note to kick her brother black and blue with her" big yeti feet" later). "A'right, bràthair. Let's get a move on."

They cross the street but Jamie in his hurry drops a wee fluffy lamb from one of the bags he carries and wouldn't have noticed if it weren't for a curly haired lass calling for his attention.

He turns around and feels his heart cease to beat, not because of who he sees but because of the car barreling down the street.

There's a flash of blinding headlights and scraping tires.

A whirlwind of curls and gaelic shouts as Jamie throws himself over the lass he always knew would be his wreck and doom.

And then the world goes black.

//

A/N:

Please keep in mind this is meant to be easy breezy reading (and writing). I'm not about the details in this fic. This was really just written on a whim.

*Eye of the Thai-Ger is a real restaurant somewhere but I borrowed it since I'm bad at puns. I also thought it was a great name considering our leonine eyed lass was walking out of it.

*The marinating your insides line is what my Grams told my mom when she was little when she caught her drinking pickle juice straight from the jar as a kid lol (I also have accidently eaten one! it looked like a funyun!!)

*I got a few questions last time about Murtaugh and Ellen and it was just something that happened. When I was writing the last chapter Jenny just kept talking and out it came and I kept it for Jamie's reaction really. But it does make me feel awful for Brian. Unless Jenny is making something out of nothing . . .

#jamie x claire #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #outlander fic #outlander #gobbledygook writing #mdd

[gotham-ruaidh]

motionless upon the air (ii)

Follow up to this story

--

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

– Pink Floyd, Echoes (1971)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Marsali’s eyes filled with tears.

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

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

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

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

---

“Sassenach?”

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

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

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

She smiled. Lifted the mug in a toast.

“To peace and quiet.”

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

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

“But he’s no’ typical.”

Claire pursed her lips. “No.”

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

“Claire?”

She set down her quill. “Yes?”

“A long time ago you promised me honesty.”

She quirked an eyebrow.

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

“I do,” she said quietly.

“Well then. Be honest wi’ me.”

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

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

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

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

Christ, her glass face showed everything.

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

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

She opened her mouth – then closed it.

“Be honest wi’ me.”

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

“Be honest wi’ me, mo nighean donn.”

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

She leapt to her feet. Enraged.

“I CAN’T SLEEP!”

He rose.

“I SEE HIM EVERYWHERE!”

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

He stood still.

“I’M STRONGER THAN THIS!”

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

“I’M SO ANGRY, JAMIE. WHY? WHY?”

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

He sat, too. But kept his distance.

“Why are you angry, Claire?”

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

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

Adso wandered into the room, miaowing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t want you to know.”

“About the ether, or about the memories?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jamie – ”

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

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

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

“Jamie. Jamie. I’m here.”

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

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

“Please,” he whispered. “Please.”

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

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

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

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

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

He did – in and out. In and out.

Slowly, slowly, slowly he settled.

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

“Please, Claire. Don’t leave me.”

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

“It – it – it – ”

“Sshh. Deep breaths.”

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

She nodded. “I will.”

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

She nodded. “I will.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

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

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

“Promise me, Claire.”

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

#outlander #outlander fanfic #jamie and claire

[flyinghome-againstthewind]

chapter 26: the best by far is you

Read on AO3

Previous Chapter

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

Chapter 26 

“Do you think it’s strange,” Claire asked him while Brianna was tucked against her breast as she nursed, “that Murtagh hasn’t once held the baby?”

Her tone suggested that she did think it was strange, regardless of Jamie’s thoughts on the matter. “Och, I’ve told ye before, mo nighean, he’s scared o’ bairns when they’re that small. Thinks they’re too fragile and likely to fall apart in his arms.”

Claire’s brows furrowed together. “Well, sure, he didn’t go near Faith until she was at least seven months old, but I thought… I mean, he’s been wonderful with her ever since.”

“Aye, she’s no longer a wee babe now is she?”

Claire rolled her eyes. “So, he won’t go near Brianna until she’s hearty enough that he’s not scared to hold her? When she’s half a year old? Is that what you’re saying?”

He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. “Sassenach… he loves our bairns. He’d protect them with his life. Ye ken that well. And aye, someday when Brianna is hearty enough as ye say, I’m sure he’ll hold her, if that’s yer worry.”

She shook her head, exasperated by the notion, and glanced down at the baby in her arms. Brianna’s arms and legs flailed as soon as Claire looked at her, wriggling with joy. Jamie’s heart melted at the sight. Such a sweet wee thing, their Brianna.

Claire’s finger traced the contours of the babe’s soft, round face. “Well, that simply won’t do, will it, Bree?”

----------

Claire cornered Murtagh with the baby while he was in the sitting room, lounging in one of the chairs and none the wiser to her scheming. Jamie sat nearby and watched the event unfold with nothing short of amusement, as Claire simply lowered the baby into Murtagh’s lap before there was an opportunity for the older man to escape.

Murtagh went rigid with fear, his arms stiff and awkward around the baby. “Nay‒ I‒ Claire!”

“Don’t make such a fuss. She’s sleeping.” Claire straightened, settling her hands on her hips, surveying the two unlikely companions with a smile. “There, see? Nothing to be afraid of.”

Murtagh looked as though he might argue that point, still holding Brianna with a delicateness as though she were a loaded pistol, poised to go off at any moment.

And with that, Claire spun and walked to the other side of the room to help Fergus with his lessons. Murtagh turned sharp eyes on Jamie. “What the devil is all this about, then?”

Jamie’s gaze flitted over to Claire but she wasn’t looking. He suspected she would be stealing glances this way, though. “I think,” he began softly, “that she worries ye won’t… bond with Brianna, if ye dinna hold her.”

“Christ,” Murtagh muttered under his breath.

Jamie held a hand up placatingly to his godfather. “She sees how ye are wi’ Fergus and wee Faith, I think she just wants to make sure ye care the same way about the bairn, too.”

His godfather made a disgruntled sound. “If she thinks this is the way to do it…” he grumbled. “Fer Christ’s sake, of course I care about the bairn.”

“I ken that, but…” Jamie’s gaze dropped to the sleeping babe in Murtagh’s arms, so small and helpless, and his heart wrenched. He understood the deeper reason that Claire was so unsettled about Murtagh and the bairn. “Anything could happen, ye ken? We have three bairns now, and with all that happened in the last year, just trying to keep our family together… Claire cannae help thinking about the worst… what would happen to the wee ones if we weren’t‒” He swallowed roughly, shrugging a little. Claire wasn’t the only one who couldn’t help thinking about that. Any parent would.

“Aye, I ken yer meaning fine.” Murtagh looked down at the baby then too, still appearing stiff as a poker as he held her, but the older man’s expression softened. “Christ, though… did she think I would leave the bairn and keep the others?”

“I dinnae think she feels that way now, seeing as ye havenae tried to pass the baby off to me yet,” he said with a grin.

Murtagh grunted his displeasure. “I would if I wasnae so nervous she might roll out o’ my arms when I tried.”

Jamie huffed a laugh. “Ye’re doing fine, a ghoistidh. And while I have ye at my disposal,” he teased, earning another sharp look from Murtagh. “I’ve been meaning to ask ye… what yer plans are from here. If ye want to go back to Scotland or continue on wi’ us.”

Murtagh simply stared at him until Jamie was shifting in his seat under his gaze. “First Claire and now you? Och, ye wound me, Jamie.”

“I didnae want to presume. That’s why I asked.”

“I swore an oath that morning of Culloden, did I no’? I’m bound not only to the promise I made to yer mother, but to the promise I made to ye. To watch his back as well, aye?” Murtagh’s head jerked in the direction of Fergus. “Cannae very well do that from all the way in Scotland.”

Jamie’s smile was small but his godfather’s words pleased him more than he could say. “If ye’re sure. I could release ye from yer oath. I would have you go wherever ye want to, not where ye felt bound to. What is it that ye want?”

“I want this, a balach,” he shrugged his shoulders, the only gesturing he could accomplish with the baby still in his arms. “To honor my oaths and to see Ellen’s grandchildren grow.”

“Well, I wouldnae have begrudged ye if ye wished to return to Scotland, but I’m pleased to hear that, a ghoistidh. Now,” he said, glancing over towards Claire to see her turning back to Fergus as if she hadn’t been watching, “shall I take wee Brianna from ye or have ye grown comfortable wi’ a bairn at last?”

“Take the bairn, Jamie. For the love of god.”

----------

“Are ye quite satisfied wi’ yer scheming, Sassenach?” Jamie teased her, handing Brianna over to her once they were alone. He pressed a swift kiss to Claire’s temple during the transition. “Ye damn near offended the man by suggesting he didnae love the babe.”

“I never said that. You said that to him.”

Jamie huffed, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Aye, well it was implied.”

“I simply thought it was important that he had a chance to bond with her. Everyone else has.” Claire shrugged, hiding her own smile. “And it’s good to know… about what he said, about staying with us.”

He let out an exasperated laugh, shaking his head a little. “Aye, somehow we havenae driven him away yet.”

“Murtagh loves us,” Claire went on, ignoring his insinuating remark. “He’s family. Of course he wanted to stay.”

“Mhmm.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead this time. “He does love you, ye wee loon. Though next time, ye might just ask him if ye’re unsure how he feels about one of us.”

  ----------

Winter quietly crept forward. Christmas was far more subdued than the one two years ago, when they had been at Lallybroch. Still, without any of the holiday trappings and rituals that Claire had introduced, it was far more joyous than just a year ago, when Claire, Jamie, Murtagh, and Fergus had been away from home and immersed in the ugliness of war.

And the approach of Hogmanay meant Fergus’s birthday, too. They welcomed the new year with joy, hopeful of what 1747 held for them, and they spent that first day of January heaping love onto their newly twelve-year-old and giving him all his favorite foods and a reminder that last year’s birthday promise hadn’t been forgotten.

Brianna began to sleep longer stretches through the night and to grow into a plump and rosy-cheeked baby. Her personality began to show itself in little glimpses, developing a happy disposition. Their days were filled with sweet baby smiles, which made the packing and preparations for their departure that much easier to endure.

“Ye are a fat wee piggy, aren’t ye?”

Jamie’s voice cut through the haze where Claire lingered in that precipice between sleep and waking, and while her eyes stayed closed, her alertness was roused by what he was saying.

“‒Gonna gobble ye all up,” he went on to the baby.

Her eyes fluttered open at the sound of Jamie pretending to gobble up Brianna and the baby’s happy cooing ‒ not quite a laugh, not yet, but so close to it. Cllaire rolled over carefully to see Jamie on his stomach, his elbows propping him up as Brianna lay before him, her small head cupped in his hands. The baby smiled up at him, her eyes bright, expectant. Claire watched as Jamie drew the moment out, taking a loud, exaggerated breath in and holding it as Brianna’s whole body started to wiggle in anticipation. A quick flash of a smile from Jamie was the only warning he gave and then he lowered his head to the baby’s belly again, continuing their game to the loud delight of wee Brianna.

A bright, bubbly sound came from the baby, and Jamie’s head snapped up to meet Claire’s gaze. His smile was broad and infectious, warmth spreading through her just to see it. “Did ye hear that?”

“You made her laugh,” she murmured, reaching out to brush her hand over Brianna’s fuzzy little head. “See if she’ll do it again.”

Jamie smiled down at the baby, still squirming happily over their game, and began tickling her belly again as he made the absurd pretense of gobbling the baby up. Brianna laughed again and Claire wanted to bottle the sound somehow, the lightness of it seeping into her bones and lifting her spirit. Their baby’s first laugh and the look on Jamie’s face when he heard it… she tried to commit every detail of the moment to heart.

“Da is pretty funny, isn’t he?” she said to the baby, but her gaze had strayed to Jamie. Her fingers scraped against the morning shadow along his jaw before he turned his face into her palm and pressed a kiss there.

His gaze lingered on her, and she knew he was also thinking back on their rekindled intimacy since the baby, and the stolen moment for just the two of them last night between putting little ones to sleep and late-night feedings and a toddler who refused to stay a whole night in her own bed. When he looked as happy as he did just now, like he wasn’t carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, she would’ve given anything for just another stolen moment with no babies in their bed.

There was a stirring of movement at her back and on instinct, her arm reached back to act as a guardrail to keep Faith from tumbling off the side of the bed. She’d crawled in next to Claire hours ago when it was still dark, but the joyous sounds of Jamie and Brianna must’ve woken her again.

She looked over her shoulder to see a wild mess of red curls and Faith’s sleepy pout. The toddler was overtaken by a yawn and leaned her head against Claire’s hip. “Wha’s funny?”

“Your da.” Claire smiled softly, pushing the hair back from Faith’s warm face. The girl’s eyes drifted to where Jamie still cradled Brianna before him, leaving a smacking kiss to the baby’s rosy cheeks. Brianna let out another happy shriek. And Faith, while she still succumbed to the occasional bout of jealousy, was not immune to the charms of a happy baby first thing in the morning. She practically rolled over Claire to wiggle into the small space between Claire and Jamie and snuggled close to the baby.

“Madainn mhath, a leannan,” Jamie greeted her with a bright smile before giving Faith her own hearty kiss to her sleep-rosy cheek.

He was so good, Claire thought, watching his face light up with both of his girls. Just so good and loving and tender-hearted with their babies, and she fell more in love with him by the second. They had a lifetime before them of this and if they had a hundred years ‒ two hundred years ‒ together, it would still never be enough.

  ----------

It was late in winter when they bid Jared farewell and left all of Paris behind them once more. They packed their things into a carriage and squeezed their family of six inside ‒ not ideal for a long journey, but they had all traveled under far more harrowing circumstances than that. But after days and days of traveling without room to move around and babies who were under-stimulated and energized, Claire began to reassess which was truly the most harrowing circumstance they’d endured so far.

They traveled further south still into France, and the views outside their carriage didn’t disappoint. They’d traded the majestic mountains of Scotland for the gently sloping valleys of France and while Jamie and Claire both longed to be back home, this new landscape was one they could easily love.

On the last day of their journey, the carriage slowed to a halt and Jamie sprung out of it first, holding the door open. “Here, my bairns, come see yer new home,” he beckoned Fergus and Faith, lifting the girl into his arms and helping Fergus out of the carriage, a hand coming to rest on the boy’s shoulder. “She’s no’ Lallybroch, but she’ll do, aye?”

Murtagh helped Claire to her feet while she stepped out with Brianna. Jamie’s strong arm went about her waist as she hopped out onto the ground. Brianna squinted against the bright sunlight and buried her face in Claire’s neck, but the rest of them looked upon their new home for the first time.

Home was now a modest vineyard and a house that indeed was not Lallybroch, but nothing to turn their noses up at. Claire took in the ivy that climbed the two-story brick cottage and rested her cheek on Brianna’s head with a contented sigh. Her gaze swung to Jamie and she gave him a tender smile. Yes, they could be happy here. They would be.

Jamie reached out and tucked behind her ear the curls that had fallen loose during the day’s ride. “And we’ll build ye a garden, Sassenach,” he said as if he’d already read her mind about the marvelous ivy twining up the outside of their house.

They’d been planning this move with Jared for months ‒ a mutually beneficial arrangement to have Jamie and Claire overseeing the vineyard and the wine-making while Jared branched out into selling his own wine to his impressive list of clientele that’d built from years as a reputable merchant. And while it wasn’t a vast estate that Jared had acquired for them to run, there was room for growth and Jamie had liked the prospect of working the land again ‒ tucked away in the south of France, where there wasn’t any threat to hide from. Where they could feel safe.

Jamie surveyed the house again with a faint smile, his free arm reaching out to tug Claire to him until they were pressed hip-to-hip. “Welcome home, Clan Fraser.”

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

[clandonnachaidh]

Light Across The Seas That Sever (Ch6)

AO3

“Mind ye’ve got that meeting this afternoon?” Ian reminded him for the thousandth time as they all sat at the breakfast table and Jamie fought the urge not to roll his eyes, already mildly annoyed at the fact that his bowl of porridge wasn’t quite right. He should’ve made it himself without backing down when Jenny had insisted on doing it for him, that way it would’ve been thick enough to plaster a wall with, just how he liked it. But his sister would never surrender the spurtle, working it through the oats and milk until they became creamy and setting a large bowl of sugar on the table, much to Jamie’s distaste. Thick enough to clart a wall and with enough salt to make your eyes water, that was exactly how he’d had it since he was a bairn, their mother taking hers in the same way. Only Jenny and their father had preferred that their breakfast be covered in sugar and the sweetness of the Scottish strawberries that grew wild on Lallybroch estate.

“Aye, I ken fine well enough,” Jamie grunted without turning his eyes towards Ian who was trying to encourage a spoonful into Wee Ian’s mouth. “Whit was the name of the estate again?”

“’Tis the only estate in Tomich but did I no’ tell ye? He’s changed the meeting to the golf club.”

It had been his idea to begin with but now Jamie was uncertain about how their drunken plan was taking shape. After one too many whiskies of a night, he and Ian had been sprawled in front of the fire as they chastised the blend that they were imbibing, arrogantly announcing that the two of them could do much better. Jamie hadn’t thought anything of it as he’d stumbled to his bed and let sleep take him but a few days later he found himself mending a fence post in the back field as Ian continued his musing about Broch Mordha putting its stamp on the world as a new destination for a premier whisky distillery and the two of them, its innovative creators.

Jamie grunted as he rose to his feet and deposited his bowl into the deep sink, letting the tap run to soak the dish and refusing to turn his body to take in the picture perfect family scene that was sat at the kitchen table.

“Mr Dunsany—“

“He’s a Lord, is he no’?”

“Is there a reason yer being a particularly crabbit arse this morning, brother?” Jenny’s voice was dripping with irritation, not wanting her nice family breakfast to be ruined by the interminable grey cloud that had been brewing over Jamie’s head for the past few weeks.

“Jen, leave him be.”

“I will not. He’s been a moanin’ greetin’ face since he came back from that bloody reunion and ’tis hell time he snapped out of it,” she said a little louder to ensure that Jamie heard the emphasis that she placed on the insult as it flew from her mouth.

This caused him to turn on his heel and level his sister with a careful eye.

“I’m sorry, Janet, but sometimes I think ye forget that there is a world outside of Lallybroch. Life can be a damn sight more complicated than poppin’ out weans and tending tae chickens, ye ken.”

If her temper didn’t hit the roof, her eyebrows certainly made a good go of it. Silently, her fingers curled tightly around the spoon, stilling herself against the pull of Wee Ian’s chubby little hand that was fisted in the material of her shirt, demanding attention.

“I ken that fine well, James. But ye canna jus’ come home every time ye see her and sulk like a wee bairn that doesna get what he wants. Grow up a wee bit, aye?”

At the end of her parting shot, Jamie felt the anger licking at the sides of his throat. The rage that he’d been directing towards himself was now begging to be let loose on someone else, someone that would bite back and Christ, Jenny would do just that. It had been this way since he’d come home, the frustration melting into a sullenness that had punctured the idyllic bubble that the family lived in at Lallybroch. In his worst thoughts, he resented both his sister and his best friend and the happiness that they shared. Jamie loved them to their bones, of course he did, but after leaving Oxford with yet another memory of how he’d let Claire slip through his fingers, the last thing he wanted to see was the very evident love between Jenny and Ian and their three children.

And so he found himself, in a suit that was a bit tight across his shoulders but he’d purchased anyway in a department store on the Inverness High Street, shaking hands with Lord William Dunsany in the bar of a golf club that he’d never seen fit to frequent himself. Jamie tried his hardest not to let the glances from the club members get to him as they walked around the lounge with an understated belonging the he’d never feel himself. He made sure that he gave a strong handshake, looking the shorter man straight in the eye and made the informed decision to swap from his usual Scots to his best Received Pronunciation, assuming that Lord Dunsany was one of those people who claimed to be a ’Scotchman’ but was as English as they come with the age old story of inheriting Scottish land as a birthright. Jamie had realised, however, that the man certainly knew his whisky and would make a not-half-bad business partner with himself and Ian if he managed to convince him to part with some cash.

Jamie was fuzzy on the details of how’d they’d come to the agreement but two hours and four whiskies later, he found himself once more shaking hands with Dunsany. The Lord would foot the seed money in exchange for a fairly sizeable but not unfair amount of the business and as a personal favour, Jamie would escort his eldest daughter around Edinburgh the following evening.

“She’s up here with me to get away from some nonsense that’s gone on at home but she’s been cooped up in her hotel for days while her mother tries to organise a townhouse for her. I just want her to get out and see the city. Who better to show her around than a native?”

Late next afternoon, his slight hangover thankfully having subsided after a coffee and a square sausage roll, Jamie stepped off of the train and onto the platform of Waverley Station in the heart of Edinburgh.

The tang of the breweries immediately filled his nostrils and he breathed deeply as the ever present sound of bagpipes floated down from the upper level of the street. While Lallybroch where was his heart lived, and he loved the humour and familiarity of Glasgow, Edinburgh held a special place in his heart. He never got tired of grabbing a coffee and walking the length of George Street in the sun, the castle bursting into view if he turned his eyes to the east.

Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he made his way towards the hotel that Dunsany had insisted on to putting him up in, the same one as his daughter just to make things simple. Although Jamie had spent many a morning diving into the spectacular breakfasts put on at one of his favourite places in Edinburgh, The Huxley, he had never imagined staying at The Caledonian that loomed over the small establishment just metres from its door.

Jamie didn’t quite know what to do as the doorman who was wearing a bloody top hat opened the door to the hotel for him so he settled on giving the man a polite smile, resisting an absurd urge to give him some type of formal bow. He had been in nice hotels before but nothing like this with its polished marble floor and a huge vases of fresh cut flowers on most surfaces that he could see.

“Mr Fraser, we have you in the Robert Louis Stevenson Suite for two nights. Here is your room key and it also includes the number for the Concierge, should you have any need. We have a table booked in the Peacock Alley bar for you and Miss Dunsany at 6pm this evening and I would be happy to make any dinner reservations you would like to make, within or outwith the hotel. Michael can get the rest of your bags from the car,” a neat blonde woman smiled at him from the reception desk as she inclined her head to the bellboy hovering at a polite distance over Jamie’s right shoulder.

“It’s nae bother, lass, I’ve only got the one bag,” Jamie muttered with a hint of embarrassment as he pulled the bag from the floor and swiped the keycards from the desk, smiling back at her. “Thank ye.”

When he stepped through the door that bore the name of one of Scotland’s most beloved authors, his growing Imposter Syndrome ramped up a few notches. Crossing the floor towards the window, Jamie was greeted by a beautiful view of the castle as it loomed over the city. He didn’t quite know how to act, having never been in such a large and clearly expensive hotel room. In fact, it wasn’t even a room, the woman at the desk had called it a suite.

Flicking through the TV channels for a little while, settling on the new show about Billy Connolly’s upbringing in Scotland, his fingers lazily scratched at the bare patch of skin just above his belt buckle. Something about being in a different city and having some time to himself made him feel lighter than he had in weeks and he gave himself permission to laugh at a particularly lewd joke that spilled from The Big Yin’s mouth on the TV.

Jamie’s phone, lying face up on the mattress beside his left shoulder, startled him as it gave a firm buzz. Sitting up, he opened the latest message from Geneva, telling him that she wanted to go out for dinner somewhere nice tonight. He was under no illusion as to the fact that when someone like Geneva Dunsany used the words ‘somewhere nice’, she was actually saying ‘somewhere expensive’. But thankfully, Jamie knew just the place and sent her a reply saying that he had it in hand before phoning down to the reception and having the helpful woman book a table at a restaurant he knew would be impressive enough but not so posh that he would feel out of his depth by eating there.

Although they’d messaged back and forth that afternoon, he hadn’t bothered to enlarge the tiny picture next to her name at the top of the screen. Toying with his phone, Jamie resolved that he had to know what the lass looked like, not wanting to have to shuffle embarrassingly around the bar trying to figure out who he was there to meet.

Her picture brought to its full size, he looked at her for the first time and tried was pleasantly surprised. She was clearly beautiful. Dark hair that flowed in loose waves over bare shoulders, her skin a beautiful olive brown from a summer tanning on a beach somewhere. She was looking at the camera dead on with a surety that came from a privileged upbringing, her face painted perfectly and a twist of the lips that couldn’t really be called a smile, as if she didn’t want to be seen to be having fun. She looked like every posh girl that Jamie had met in his life, every girl at university who would air kiss their friends on both cheeks while their manicured hands clutched at bags that cost more than his first car.

Suppressing a groan at the thought of spending a weekend with a person who no doubt came from an entirely separate world than the one he’d grown up in, Jamie divested himself of his socks as he plodded, bare feet on plush carpet, through to the bathroom to take a shower and clean himself up ahead of his evening.

Later, he sat at the bar, his fingers playing with the patterns on the cut crystal glass that housed his double whisky, he felt a gentle hand rest on his shoulder.

“James Fraser?”

His stomach dropped into the floor.

The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind at what hearing his name fall from the lips of an Englishwoman would do to him. He felt an absurd wave of revulsion swipe through him in an instant and he took a quick drink before turning on his stool to face her, swallowing the bile that had risen up in his throat.

“Och, lass, nobody really calls me James. Ye can call me Mac. ’Tis another one of my family names,” he tried to sound light and not as if the sounds of his name leaving her lips felt like the flesh on his back had been ripped open to the bone.

There was a reluctance in her eyes and he immediately knew that she was uncomfortable so he did his best to send her his most charming smile, gesturing for her to sit and then signalling to the bartender.

“What would ye like tae drink?”

“Martini, if you would, extra dry, extra dirty,” she ordered confidently as the bartender nodded and turned to begin preparing it for her.

With her chin in the air, she asked, “So, my father said you were a business associate?”

“Aye, I suppose I am now. My brother-in-law and myself wish to start our own whisky company. Your father has kindly offered to help.”

“My father isn’t generally in the habit of helping out of kindness.”

“Aye, well, hopefully he trusts that we ken what we’re doing. Or that we’ll figure it out at the very least,” Jamie tried to joke but she gave him nothing. There was something cold in her demeanour that he hoped he wouldn’t have to fight against for the whole evening.

After watching the martini disappear down Geneva’s throat in record time, he offered her an arm as they left the hotel and were hit by the cool air of Edinburgh in the evening. As soon as Jamie took the first step towards Princes Street, Geneva halted.

“We’re walking?”

“’Tis no’ far, only ten minutes or so. We have time before our reservation,” he replied, gently tugging on the arm that she’d looped through his so that she would begin to walk with him. Her feet stayed firmly planted on the concrete.

“These are £500 shoes, I’m not walking anywhere.”

“Lass, Edinburgh is a city tae get lost in. If we get a taxi we’ll just be looking at the sides of buses and traffic lights. Yer father asked me tae show ye the city,” letting her arm slip from his, Jamie took a step forward and gestured towards the castle, atmospherically lit from beneath now that the sun had gone down. He turned back to her with a kind smile and held out his hand. “Let me, aye?”

Reluctantly, she acquiesced and let him lead her away from the hotel. Jamie’s skin tingled at the contact and he realised that he hadn’t touched a woman apart from Jenny since the university reunion with Claire. He flexed his fingers experimentally and felt something swell in the pit of his stomach when Geneva tightened her grip in response.

The two of them made small talk as they walked through Princes Street gardens and up towards the restaurant, Geneva seeming happy enough with the venue that he’d chosen. He’d heard good things about The Witchery before and as they sat down at a table covered in a pristine white cloth, surrounded by painted dark wood on the walls and ceilings, he noticed how pretty Geneva looked in the candlelight. Only a fool would try to argue that she wasn’t beautiful. But there was a coldness to her that hadn’t warmed yet and so he kept on being as charming as he could, hoping that another glass of wine might bring down the steely demeanour that she seemed to hold on to for dear life.

Oxford had been full of girls like Geneva Dunsany. Wealthy, privileged and confident. After four years of university, Jamie had perfected the art of tuning out their inane conversation about which exotic place they’d spent their summer, who’s guestlist they’d been placed on for the weekend and what they were planning on wearing. So he knew how to respond to her constant stream of speech, nodding and agreeing in the right places and sending dazzling smiles across the table when he felt like rolling his eyes. Though somehow, he found that he didn’t actually dislike Geneva Dunsany. Something in her eyes, or maybe it was the way she chose her words, showed Jamie that the poor little rich girl personality was an act. Underneath the mask, she felt the same way that he did—unfathomably sad.

Something inside of him felt sorry for her, recognising the pain that he knew all too well in another. And while he didn’t particularly care for the woman, Jamie decided to be kind to her. He leaned closer across the table and started to respond to her stories with anecdotes of his own. With the help of another two martinis, she began to blossom in his company and the two shared a relatively pleasant evening together.

When they reached the hotel elevator, Jamie had nothing on his mind other than stripping off his constricting shirt and sleeping off the whisky cloud that was hanging somewhere around his temples.

“What’s on the agenda now, then?” Geneva asked as they stood side by side.

“Shower then bed, I think.”

“Sounds good to me,” she all but whispered, Jamie’s head twisting to see the dark look of seduction that was painted on her face. “Mind if I join you?”

He didn’t say no.

It was shocking how easily he slipped into the worst version of himself. There had been a few nights in the past where he’d spent too much time and money in the pub in Broch Mordha and woken up the morning with some woman curled around him at whatever bed and breakfast they’d invited him back to. He only ever slept with women who were in the area for the moment, never anyone who he’d run into again. It was always when he was half gone with drink, his body acting solely on blind need that he succumbed to his baser instincts.

The doors of the elevator opened and Geneva walked in purposefully, turning to look at him with an alluring smile. Jamie walked in beside her and pressed the number for her floor.

They found pleasure in each other’s bodies but it was skin deep at best. A simple matter of scratching an itch that they both clearly had and had resolved to using the other to sate that particular need. There were no delicate touches or gazes held for any real length of time. Jamie set himself to work, making sure that she got hers before followed suit. It was perfunctory. Pleasant. And when they both uttered their subdued sounds of fulfilment, Geneva immediately rolled away from him, shielding herself once more.

“Do ye want me to go?” Jamie’s voice broke through the dark silence of the room.

Her response was barely a whisper, “Please.”

He dressed quickly, roughly, and scrambled around in the dark for his phone that had fallen from his pocket. Geneva was lying as still as a statue but Jamie could hear the odd sniff from her and realised that she had begun to cry. After dithering between his options, his inherent gentlemanliness won out.

“Is there anything I can do?”

There was no response for a few seconds and he took that as his answer, beginning to move towards the door of the room when a single word stopped his hand from turning the doorknob.

“Stay.”

Keeping his eye on her as though she was a frightened animal that might bolt at any provocation, he slowly began to undress. When she moved over slightly to give him room to get under the covers, he did just that and felt a strange sense of kinship as she wrapped her body around his. Jamie held her, stroking her hair until she fell asleep in his arms. The sound of her gentle breathing was the only thing filling the room until his phone suddenly pinged with a notification.

Facebook Congratulate Claire Beauchamp on their engagement!

Before he could stop himself, he opened the app and looked at the posed photograph of the two of them, her left ring finger showing off an almost comically large diamond ring.

After telling our friends and family, we are so happy to announce that we are engaged! We thank everyone so far for their kind words and well wishes. From the future Mr and Mrs Frank Randall.

Every muscle on his body was thrumming with energy. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what the energy was made from. Rage? Fear? Utter desolation? Whatever it was, it was coiling its way around his ribs, holding him in stasis and holding him hostage as he experienced it.

He wasn’t even considered a friend anymore, seeing as he hadn’t been given the privilege of a private message, having to find out through fucking Facebook. She had clearly changed in her time in Boston, the Claire he knew would never have given up her name and become Mrs Frank Randall. Randall-Beauchamp at the very least, for Christs sake.

Tasting the rare metallic nature of blood in his mouth, Jamie realised that he was biting the inside of his cheek. He felt the need to get up and do something, anything to expel the energy that was going to burst out of him if he didn’t channel it into something. But he was stilled by the feel of Geneva’s naked body against his and a rush of guilt tried to swallow him whole.

How dare he question Claire’s life, assume to know her situation all the while he was in bed with another woman. Reminding himself for the hundredth time that Claire had made her choice and it wasn’t him, he swallowed his pride and went to send her a message, even though he knew it wasn’t a smart idea.

He shouldn’t have had that final whisky.

Jamie: Just seen the news. Congratulations to you and yours.

A blatant lie but what was he supposed to say?

To his surprise, her reply was almost immediate.

Claire: Thank you!

Short and to the point. Two words that would shut down any further conversation, a feigned attempt at excitement and gratitude that he prided himself on being able to see through.

He knew that he would have been one of many to send the same sentiment that day but he had kidded himself that his text would receive a more personalised response. Maybe all she thought of him was a copy and paste response as she planted her phone down screen first on the sofa before climbing into the arms of her future husband.

In an attempt to hold the tears at bay, Jamie curled an arm around Geneva’s prone body, bringing up his hands to his arm and pressing his palms into his eyes until he saw stars.

#light across the seas that severed #clan donnachaidh #ao3 #outlander fanfic #jamie fraser #Claire beauchamp #outlander #modern au

[renee-writer]

Single Chapter 18

AO3

His exclamation wakes Brianna. Rubbing her eyes, she looks around. Seeing Fergus, who states at her, equally stunned, she says, “Elias, mama!”

 

Claire stares at her son, tears rolling down her face. Her breath hitches as she says. “No, my love. It is your brother, Fergus.”

 

She is up, drawing the stunned young man into her arms.

 

“Mílord said you were dead, mílady, you and the bairn you carried?”

 

“It is a long story that we will explain to you and the others. First, allow me to introduce you to your sister, Brianna Ellen Fraser. Bree, this is your brother, Fergus.”

 

She stays perched on her new daddy ‘s lap but waves at him.

 

“Bonjour Brianna.”

 

“He talks funny.” She reports to the room, with a giggle.

 

“I am French, mí lady.” He bows low to her. She claps.

 

“It is time to tell them.” Claire announces before heading to the door and getting the rest of their family .

 

Jenny, Ian, and their children come in.

 

“Shall I also fetch Mary and Rabbie?” Jenny asks her brother.

 

“Well, you seemed to have grown close to them.” Claire answers his look to her. There is an edge to her voice and he knows that they still have some talking to do. First things, first.

 

“No, let’s keep it family.” He ignores the fact that had Claire and Brianna not shown up when they did, she would be Mistress Fraser. They had.

 

“As you wish.” Jenny carefully arranged herself on the seat. The children ( she is sure there are more than one in her) make finding a comfortable position quite difficult.

 

Ian smiles at Claire and his unexpected niece, now on her lap, before sitting beside his wife. He takes her hand. Wee Jamie and Maggie sit at their feet, looking at the new child and the auntie they only vaguely recall.

 

“I know I told you that Claire had died. That was because I never expected to see her again,” he starts out, “I expected to die myself at Culloden Moor. When I didn’t , I had to explain her absence.”

 

“Where was she, braithar?” Jenny is inpatient in the later stages of pregnancy.

 

“Two hundred years in the future.”

 

Everyone sits stunned. The children all look at him. Jenny and Ian share a look while Fergus utters a French swear word.

 

“It is true.” Claire starts and doesn’t  stop until she has told them all, from her and Frank’s second honeymoon up until the trip back through the Stones. No one interrupts. The children, including her own, listen with wide eyes and slightly open mouths.

 

When she is done, silence reigns again.

 

“Well, that explains a lot.” Ian says after a few moments have passed.

 

“I have heard all my life of the fairies and the magic of their hills. For good or evil. Which do you bring to my family?” Jenny stares at her, one hand protectively over her unborn children.

 

“Janet Murray, she is no fairy!” Jamie stands, glaring at her. Fergus joins his father.

 

“Now everyone calm down.” Ian stands before his wife, shielding her.

 

Claire’s calm voice raises above the tension.

 

“Good always. I am no fairy. Just an ordinary woman with her child. I didn’t ask to fall through the Stones, to meet and fall in love with Jamie, to become part of your family. Didn’t ask for the war that tore us apart. But, it led to this moment where I sit here with your niece, back with my husband and son. With my sister.”

 

Ian looks back at Jenny. She sighs and nods. “Help me up Ian,” He does and she walks over to Claire, “Welcome home sister.”

 

She sits Bree down and hugs her. Jenny returns it, to the relief of all.

 

Later

 

“Now, you mustn’t say anything to anyone else about your auntie or cousin being from the future.” Ian tells his children, “it can put them in danger. Understand?”

 

“Aye da.”

 

Jamie takes his wife ‘s hand. He holds Brianna in the other. After hours talking about her time, to the awe of her audience, she is exhausted. Bree has started to get to know her brother and cousins. She is also done in. He is taken them both to bed.

#my writing #outlander fanfic #single #chapter 18 #jamie and claire #cannon divergence #outlander fandom

[jamiemackenziefraser]

All That Was Fair

Chapter 26: Fraser Publishing (part 1)

Summary: Unwilling to leave her at home, Jamie takes Claire into work with him. She makes some rather unexpected friends, resulting in a conversation where Claire has to drop a bombshell.

Read on AO3

Read chapter 26 on tumblr below the cut

Previous, master list, next

Chapter 26: Fraser Publishing

***

Claire was nearly buzzing with excitement the whole car ride into the city. Jamie tried to stay on task in explaining what to expect at his office, but she was so damn adorable that he just kept getting off track. All of him wanted to just tell her to be herself and damn the consequences, but his publishing company was a family business, run by his closest friends and relatives, and he couldn’t afford to have them on his back over his strange girlfriend— well, anymore than they already were. He just needed to pass Claire off as normal enough before hiding her in his office with him for a few hours. 

He knew he didn’t need to bring Claire with him; he’d just feel better if she were by his side instead of facing down God-knows-what human catastrophe by herself enough. Leaving her that past Friday had been nerve-wracking enough, even before coming home to find her terrified by the storm. After his worry over her health the night before, there was no way he could leave alone. 

She’d woken up that morning seeming like her usual self, and it brought Jamie endless relief. There had been a light in her eyes again from the moment she’d woken him with gentle kisses.  Feeling much reassured but still anxious not to leave her alone, he’d come up with a plan while holding her in his arms that morning in bed. He had decided that she would come in with him, give a few smiles and waves to his staff, and then he’d get a few hours of work done with her tucked safely in his office.

Naturally, Claire had agreed to go with him with eager enthusiasm, and she’d bounded up to get herself ready before racing to the car. 

And that was where Jamie found himself then, driving into the city with a vibrating faerie in his passenger seat. 

 “Jamie I can’t wait to meet everyone,” she said, grinning ecstatically over at him. 

Their hands were laced together over the middle console, and she gave his knuckles a brush with her thumb— back and forth. 

“Aye, lass, but maybe it’d be better if ye—”

When she looked up at him, her eyes shining with enthusiasm, he cut himself off. He’d warned her enough. She knew to be careful, he didn’t need to dim her light. 

“Ah, nothin’,” he dismissed, answering her grin with one of his own, “they’ll love ye.” 

*

The building was nothing grandiose, just a one-story office space that Jamie prided himself on being rather homey. He wanted it to reflect the comfort that books brought him instead of being some sleek, modern facility that was cold and distant, and he thought he’d done a rather fine job of it. Claire, of course, had no comments about the finer points of architecture and interior design. She simply held his hand as they walked inside the front door. 

Jamie found himself holding his breath, his whole body tenses with nerves, and it was actually Claire’s squeeze of his hand that calmed him down, rather than the other way around. 

Upon entering, they were met with the sight of Mrs. Crook, his receptionist, sitting at her desk with the phone pressed to her ear. As soon as she caught sight of them, her eyes went wide with delight and she slammed the phone down. She stood up from her desk and came around in front of it, smiling. 

“Hope that wasna an important call,” Jamie joked. 

But the sweet lady had eyes only for the lass attached to his side. 

“Hello, dear. Jamie, who is yer bonny lass?” she asked. 

Claire straightened up instantly, absorbing the praise like it fed her, and let go of Jamie’s hand to step up to Mrs. Crook. 

“I’m Claire,” she said, beaming at her. 

Mrs. Crook was a goner, for sure. 

“Oh, Claire, verra nice to meet ya, I’m Mrs. Crook,” the receptionist answered, looking absolutely tickled by her. 

“I’m so happy to meet Jamie’s friends!” Claire exclaimed. 

His faerie, bold as ever, went straight in for the hug, wrapping her arms around Mrs. Crook with enough sincerity and warmth to bulldoze a person flat. 

Mrs. Crook was a bit taken aback but nonetheless delighted to be on the receiving end of such an unexpected gesture and quickly wrapped her arms around Claire, chuckling softly. Claire squeezed the lady gently once before letting go, stepping back from her to give one more wide smile. 

“Come on, a ghraidh,” Jamie quickly broke in before Claire could delve too much further into the unexpected, “there’s lots of people to meet.” 

Jamie took Claire’s hand, and she stepped back into the safety of his side, nodding. 

“Ye’ve got a sweet one there, Jamie,” Mrs. Crook said approvingly, “come around anytime, Claire, dear!” 

Bringing Claire further into the office, Jamie walked down toward the hall, knowing exactly who he wanted her to meet next. Sure enough, his quarry found them before they could find him.  

“John!” Jamie said as the blonde man stopped in his tracks and looked up in surprise, “I wanted tae introduce ye to my girlfriend, Claire. Claire,” he turned toward his wee lass, who was looking at John with that same beaming smile she’d given Mrs. Crook, “this is my friend, John Grey. He handles the financials.” 

“Hello!” she exclaimed. 

Before Jamie could squeeze her hand or do anything to keep her settled, Claire was flying over to give John a hug. 

“Oh,” John huffed out a laugh of surprise as she embraced him, “hello.” 

To his credit, John barely skipped a beat before hugging her back. Jamie watched his lass fondly, Claire standing on her tiptoes in order to reach John properly. John shot Jamie a helpless and confused look over Claire’s shoulder, and Jamie could only smile and shake his head. 

He loved her more than anything. 

It was so strange to see her here, in this area of his life. The last few weeks with her had been magical, unreal— tucked away in their little bubble of paradise at his home. Now, here she was, in his place of work, and it was like two worlds colliding. It wasn’t unpleasant though, simply jarring. He couldn’t help imagining this being his life— Claire coming into work to visit him on lunch break, bringing everyone cookies during a long evening of work, stopping by with their children to visit….

He was getting ahead of himself. 

With a mental slap on the wrist, Jamie brought his attention back to the scene in front of him where Claire was just letting go of John. 

“Nice to meet you, Claire,” John chuckled. He looked over at Jamie, his brows drawn together, and seemed to war within himself over what to say for a second before commenting, “Jamie, I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.” 

Jamie smiled a bit. “It’s still rather new I suppose, but she’s a keeper for sure.” 

That got Claire’s attention, and she turned back toward Jamie, face soft with affection, and stepped to him so she could press a sweet kiss to his cheek and take his hand again.

Naturally, it was that exact moment when an all too familiar voice called out his name from behind him, the “James” dripping with disapproval. 

Feeling like he was about to face the chopping block, Jamie turned slowly around to see the whole Murray family— Ian, the weans, wee Jamie, Maggie, and Katherine, and of course, Jenny. 

“Hello, sister,” Jamie said, squeezing Claire closer to him protectively. He sent a quick prayer up to heaven that Jenny would take it easy and forgo making a scene. Claire, for her part, glued herself to Jamie’s side as if she fully intended to be a permanent fixture there. 

“Bringing yer trollop into work now, I see,” Jenny gestured toward Claire with her chin, narrowing her eyes. 

“Dinna speak of her that way,” Jamie growled. He felt the hair on the back of his neck standing on end, his patience wearing thin before they’d even begun. God give him patience. 

Ever the peacemaker, Ian chose that moment to break the tension. “Hello, Jamie, good tae see ye back.” 

“Good tae see ye too, Ian,” Jamie replied, but his attention went straight back to his exasperating sister, “what brings ye and the weans in today, Jenny?” 

“I could ask ye the same, seein’ as—”

“Jes’ here for the morning, and then we’ll go out fer lunch,” Ian cut in. 

“Lovely,” Jamie remarked without any real enthusiasm, soured as he was by Jenny’s animosity toward Claire. 

“Dinna take that attitude wi’ me, James,” his sister chided. 

“I believe ye’re the one wi’ an attitude, Janet,” Jamie shot back. 

She put her hands on her hips, leveling him with her best motherly disapproval, but she refused to comment further. She must have known that he was right. 

While Jamie had been staring down his sister, he hadn’t even noticed that Claire had let go of his hand. But he suddenly realized that the wee body was gone from his side, and his heart skipped a beat. He whipped his head around to find Claire kneeling off to the side, talking in hushed tones to wee Jamie and exchanging smiles with the lad. On her right side, Maggie was already wrapping her arms around Claire’s leg fondly. 

Jenny followed his gaze to see her bairns interacting with Claire, and her irritation rose ever further. 

“Jamie, get back here,” she hissed at her son, beckoning him toward her side. 

“Mama, can we play wi’ the nice lady while Da works?” wee Jamie asked, reaching out for Claire’s hand. 

Claire, the charmer, took it with a smile, looking up toward Jenny as innocently as possible. There was no hint of smugness on Claire’s face, no pettiness that other people would have had in such a circumstance. She only looked politely to Jenny for approval. 

Maggie, only 4, was bobbing her head too. 

Jenny sighed, putting her hands on her hips and looking down at them for a long moment. Three pairs of eyes looked up at her in longing, and Jamie’s foul mood was dissolving by the second to see his love looking so soft with his niece and nephew. 

She certainly made friends fast, that one. 

“Alright, I suppose that wouldna be the worst thing. Jes’ stay where I can see ye,” Jenny relented. 

What followed was the most distractingly adorable two hours of Jamie’s life. His office being the biggest (but mostly because he didn’t want to let Claire out of his sight), he’d invited Jenny and Claire and the children in while he and Ian got some work done. Claire had sat on the floor with the weans, playing and chatting amicably, the whole time. She had the most distinct way of interacting with them— motherly, but at the same time, she didn’t baby talk them. She simply engaged their whims, bonding over whatever silly games they were playing, making them feel like they were the most important thing in the world. 

Jamie’s heart nearly burst over the sweet picture. He couldn’t help but imagine Claire with weans of her own— their bairns. She’d make an extraordinary mother, as he saw first hand. Safe to say, he did not get hardly any work done. 

He wasn’t the only one watching the sweet scene. Jenny’s eyes were fixed on Claire the whole time, and Jamie could see the softening in his sister’s posture as she reluctantly came to the realization that the lass who she was so set against truly loved her children. At one point, Jenny even glanced over toward Jamie, catching his eye and giving him a reluctant smile. 

It wasn’t near an apology, not even close, but Jamie still treasured this first step toward a change of heart, and gave his sister a smile and a nod back. 

He thought no one could stay hardened against his faerie for long, not even his stubborn sister, and it brought him comfort to think it was likely only a matter of time before Claire won her over too. 

When the time came for the Murray family to go on their lunch date, the goodbyes were excruciating. 

“Will we see ye again soon, Claire?” wee Jamie asked, clutching Claire’s hand tightly while his mother waited for him at the door of Jamie’s office, holding Kitty in her arms. 

“I hope so,” Claire said with a smile, shooting a glance toward Jenny, “Now you’d better go, your mother’s waiting.” 

Wee Jamie launched himself at Claire, wrapping her thigh in a tight hug before bounding toward his mam. Maggie did the same, hugging Claire quickly before pulling back and saying, “bye-bye, Claire.” 

“Bye, Maggie, darling,” Claire said, giving the wee lassie’s curls a ruffle. 

Soon, the door was closing behind the Murrays, leaving Claire and Jamie alone in the privacy of his office. 

His lass turned to him with a bright smile, starting to say “they’re—”

But Jamie— finding his self control at a minimum and his amorous intentions through the roof— cut her off by pulling her against him by the waist and pressing his lips to hers. 

She melted into the kiss, wrapping her arms around Jamie’s neck and allowing him to kiss her breathless. 

“What was that for?” she asked, panting, when he finally pulled away. 

“Ye jes’ looked sae bonny wi’ them,” Jamie said, “I've been wantin’ tae do that for hours.” 

“Oh,” was all she could say, but looked rather pleased. 

Her lips curved up, raising the apples of her cheeks, but she downcast her eyes. She looked so beautiful that Jamie couldn’t resist reaching out and finding a curl to tuck behind her ear. 

“Listen, we’ve some time for lunch. What would ye say to a wee walk around the park nearby?” Jamie asked. 

Claire nodded, and before he knew it, they were hand in hand, strolling around the empty park. The sun had decided to peak out from the clouds, illuminating an otherwise dreary day, and Jamie couldn’t imagine a more perfect lunch break. Nor could he image spending another lunch break alone after the bliss of having her there— but that was a problem for another day. 

As they walked along quietly, enjoying the day and the company, there was something sitting heavily on the tip of his tongue. He knew in his brain that this wasn’t really the right time to broach this serious conversation, but seeing her with the bairns had done something to him, and he couldn’t seem to taper down the question rising in his chest. 

Before he could stop it, his mouth was saying, ‘Claire, can I ask ye somethin?” 

She looked up at him, face open as always, and replied, “of course, Jamie. You can always ask me anything.” 

“Ehm… well this… this is a bit o’ an odd question…” 

Claire chuckled softly, tugging on his hand. “Out with it.” 

“I was jes wonderin’ how… ehm… how the fair folk... reproduce... and— and if it’s the same as humans,” he finally forced out. 

Claire looked surprised, taken aback for a moment before a soft blush began to spread over her cheeks. 

“Oh,” she said, “well. I… I wouldn’t know about human reproduction, but I can tell you how it goes for the fair folk.” 

She went on to explain, in hushed tones, the physical act of reproduction. To Jamie’s delight, it sounded exactly like the human way of doing things. By the end of Claire’s overview, the tips of both of their ears were flushed pink. 

A variety of feelings all swirled around inside Jamie. Foremost was elation bubbling up inside his chest, happiness as the thought of a future with her, a marriage like he could have with any lass. Accompanying that was desire. He couldn’t help but imagine the possibilities now that he knew sex was, in fact, on the table. Relief went hand in hand, and he nearly laughed at himself over how comforted he was that the secret fear— the fear that he’d never be able to be intimate with her in that way— was no longer an issue. 

As soon as he’d explained that everything she said went the same for humans, he couldn’t help the rush of words bursting out of him, “ye see, I’d been wonderin’ that for a while, but I didna want tae overwhelm ye. Sorry if the question was a bit sudden. It was jes’ seein’ ye wi’ my sister’s bairns, thinkin’ about how great a mother ye’d be... I jes’ had to ken if there was a possibility of that for us. In the future, of course, I dinna mean any time soon. But now that I know there is that possibility, Claire, ye’ve made me sae happy. I dinna want to get ahead of myself, but it’s always been a dream of mine to have bairns, and knowin—”

Jamie— caught up in his ramblings as he was— didn’t notice Claire until that moment. Her face had fallen and body tensed, her whole posture screaming that something was wrong. Jamie’s heart dropped to the pit of his stomach, and the words died in his throat. 

“Claire? What’s wrong, a ghraidh?” 

She bit her lip, looking away from him. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard. Something was really wrong, and it sent Jamie’s nerves on edge. 

He stopped walking, pulling Claire to a stop by her hand. She still wouldn’t look at him, so he gently took her face in his hand and tilted it upward. 

“Claire?” he prompted, his voice sticking in his throat, “tell me, lass.” 

She was quiet for a long time before she finally spoke. 

“I don’t think— I mean...” she fumbled quietly, avoiding his eyes, “I… I’ve thought a lot about it. I’ve dreamt of us having babies too, Jamie. But I—” tears beaded in her eyes, and she finally fixed her gaze on him for the first time, “I don’t think we can. I don’t think we’re physiologically compatible enough. We’d be able to be intimate, but… nothing would come of it.” 

The tears in her eyes finally broke free, two perfect lines trailing down her cheek in sync. 

“I know it’s your dream...” she continued, tightness in her distraught voice, “I'm sorry. I’m so sorry, Jamie.” 

“Oh, Claire,” the words tore from his chest like air from a punctured balloon. 

Feeling just as deflated, he drew her into a tight hug, pulling her body against his and squeezing tightly. She went willing, pressing her teary face into his shoulder. His arms wrapped around her back, he could feel her chest shaking with the force of containing her sobs. 

“Claire, mo ghraidh,” he said gently into her hair, “I have no life but you. Dinna cry, a leannan, dinna cry. There are other ways fer us to have bairns, even if they arena our own. And that way I wouldna have tae watch ye suffer.” 

She looked up at him then, blinking, looking confused. “I can bear pain myself,” he expanded, “but I couldna bear yours. It would take more strength than I have.” 

A tear rolled down her cheek, and he brought his hand up to cup her face and swipe it away with his thumb. Her eyes were swimming with disappointment and guilt in a way that tore at Jamie’s insides. 

“I love ye, Claire. I wouldna trade bein’ wi’ ye for the world. Even if it means that our bairns canna be our own flesh and blood.” 

Tear drops were beaded on her eyelashes, and she blinked them away. He couldn’t help but think how heartbreakingly beautiful she looked at that moment. 

“You… you won’t regret that I’m different… that I can’t give you your dream?” she asked. 

“No, no, Claire,” he said firmly, pulling her back into his tight embrace with the same force his words held, “I’ve told ye before, I will never regret who ye are, because I love you. More than anything. Do ye hear me, lass?” 

She nodded against his shoulder, her hands stroking up his back. 

Jamie drew away enough so that he could take hold of her chin with his thumb and forefingers. Her skin was soft under his fingertips, still damp. He brushed his fingers back and forth, trying to dry it. 

“Please, darling, no more tears. I canna stand to see ye weep.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry for bringin’ this up now.”

“Don’t be sorry, Jamie. I’m the one who should be sorry. I should have told you sooner,” she choked out, a fresh wave of tears rolling from her cheeks and dripping onto his hand. 

“Nah, nah, lass,” he wiped them away untiringly, “please, dinna apologize.” He was quiet for a moment and then said, “I love you, Claire.” 

She let out a breathy sound and a gasp that was almost a laugh, and then smiled with watery eyes. “I love you, Jamie.” 

He took her in his arms then, holding her close, feeling like she— or he— might fly to pieces the moment he let go. Life in the park went on around them, birds singing and wind rustling through the greenery, but Jamie only had attention for Claire. The rending in his own chest would wait. All that mattered was her. 

She was enough. She would always be enough. And he would spend every day for the rest of her life making sure she knew that. 

***

Next

#this moodboard took me 12 years and I still don’t like it #oh well I hope you enjoy the chapter #all that was fair #update #outlander fanfiction #claire x jamie #fae claire