#i need him to talk as low and sinister as possible and then sound unimaginably upset at getting no respect as a gamer | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mo-nighean-rouge · 6 years

Text

Gone- II

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

Part I | AO3

A/N: I absolutely would not have made it through this chapter without @phoenixflames12 and @quietcatastrophe, who, aside from betaing this part within an inch of its life, alternated between the little devils on my shoulder and the voices of reason preventing me from posting a draft that would have alienated you all (if this one doesn’t). Keep in mind that this chapter contains allusions to past violence and that against children.

Previously:

“Where is [Faith]?” Claire could tell Jamie was trying to keep his voice steady, but the words were strangled as they escaped his throat.

“Christ, lad, I’m so sorry…” Murtagh spluttered. “She – she’s gone.”

Jamie dropped to his knees, head in his hands.

Claire wanted to follow him. She wanted to sink into the earth and be buried alive until she could no longer feel the pain pressing upon her heart.

But before she knew what she was doing, before the words had fully left Murtagh’s mouth, she had lurched forward, grabbing him by his shirt collar.

“What the bloody hell does ‘gone’ mean? She growled.

April 16, 1746 | Craigh Na Dun

Claire observed Murtagh’s throat bobbing in her periphery as her eyes bore into his.

“We encountered lobsterbacks on the way from Lallybroch,” his voice shook. “They knocked me out cold and Fergus couldna fight them off. Ran away with her. Her screams during their attack…” Murtagh shivered in front of her.

Claire shuddered to quell the stream of bile that sprinted up her gullet at his account.

Over her shoulder, a quaking Jamie stood to cast a pointed glance at the French boy in confusion.

“I’m sorry, milord,” Fergus’s voice rose in his desperation. “I encountered Murtagh and wanted to help guard La Petite.”

Jamie nodded grimly. “Ye did fine, lad.” His voice sounded strangled in the silence.

“That’s not all, I saw which way they went!” Fergus began animatedly. “A camp not so far from here.”

Claire strode toward Brimstone and climbed into the saddle. “Well, let’s go,” she ordered. “There’s no time to waste.”

Jamie squinted his eyes shut. “Excuse us,” he nodded toward Murtagh. He strode toward Claire and pulled her down from her mount. “Ye still must go, a ghraidh.” His clammy hands enclosed her face, their trembling doing nothing to calm her anguish.

Claire felt her face fall before lifting her chin in the air. “I beg your pardon?” she hissed. “You won’t sweet talk me into going anywhere while my daughter is in peril.”

“Just pass through the stones and wait nearby,” Jamie insisted hoarsely. “We’ll deliver her to ye shortly.”

“And if she can’t go through?” She snatched her arms out of his hold, choking on her words. “Not a chance, James Fraser.”

Claire remounted before Jamie could stop her, rearing up to meet Fergus. “Lead us there.”

Fergus nodded, looking into her eyes. His determined bravery lit his features. Gone was the conniving lad Jamie had encountered in the streets of Paris. In his place was a traumatized young man trying to hold it together.

“That is still not all,” the precious seconds they had to act ticked away as he hesitated.

Jamie tipped his head toward the boy, urging him on. His reluctance revealed something much more sinister about the situation.

“Their path led to a camp under Captain Randall’s command,” Murtagh finished for him. He flinched as Jamie bustled past him to mount Donas.

Claire avoided his eye as he bade his horse past her to follow Fergus. She pulled ahead once again, resisting the temptation to fall into his arms and seek comfort from their mutual travesty.

She didn’t feel the freedom to invite him to share her pain as she would have just the day before. And soon they would share nothing.

The man that had given her everything was doing all in his power to take it away.

The party galloped their horses along, faster than Claire remembered riding before. She thought back to the agony of her race to find Jamie after his arrest with the Black Watch. But that memory was nothing compared to the wrenching in her gut now at the idea of Faith lying defenseless, prone to the savagery she had witnessed at the hands of the Redcoat army.

They were scarcely half an hour along when the twisting in her stomach became more physical than figurative. She dove from Brimstone’s back, barely hitting the ground before she was heaving the dry bannocks Jamie had insisted upon that morning into the first bush she reached.

The thud of boots landing in the heather behind her reverberated in her chest as she returned the remnants of both her and Jamie’s breakfast.

Jamie’s capable hands met her back, bearing into her shoulder and the low spot that had troubled her the last time she carried. “Sassenach,” he murmured.

“Go!” her voice came out in a hiss at him before she gagged once more. “Get to her. She’s all that matters now.”

He whimpered behind her, hoping against hope to provide more comfort than was possible in the moment, in the nightmare they had awoken to.

“No!” she bellowed to his face.

Jamie stumbled backward, rising to his feet as he staggered away.

Claire watched him nod to Murtagh almost imperceptibly. But she needn’t have seen the gesture to understand its meaning.

See to her.

Return her safely to me

It was a command the Laird had bestowed upon a trusted friend and devoted Godfather numerous times.

Murtagh slipped from his own saddle as Jamie remounted and continued behind Fergus with a last lingering, uncertain glance at Claire.

Claire heard Murtagh’s cautious steps to stand behind her, his shadow falling over the ground as he bent to offer her his hand.

Claire dragged her sleeve across her face, then brushed the thistles from her dress as she stood and swatted Murtagh away.

She began a steady walk back and forth over the space ensconced by their horses. It was one of few activities that had helped settle her morning sickness with Faith, though it nearly broke her to think of her previous pregnancy just now.

Claire felt Murtagh’s eyes on her amid his own pacing, though she tried her best to ignore him.

Ignore the fact that she was left behind to deal with the man that had lost her child.

Finally she whirled around on him when their paths came just too close to each other’s.

Before she could spit out any merciless, irredeemable words, her eyes caught his. The guilt, the dread, the shock she saw in them nearly undid her. She’d been avoiding his gaze for a reason.

Claire followed his line of vision to the hand she’d unconsciously placed over her belly. She couldn’t smother the persistent voice telling her Faith was to be sacrificed for this child to thrive. She wanted to be, was, fiercely protective and fearful for this child, as well. But part of her resented him all the same.

“Ye’re with child,” Murtagh’s words came out almost a question, almost a confirmation of unpreventable ruin.

At her nod, his features swelled with pride before sinking in grief.

For the first time, Claire took in the droop of his shoulders, his sallow cheeks. His right eye was blackened, the skin on his knuckles torn. She saw the man that had, still would, sacrifice his life for her husband.

Her daughter.

Herself.

She swallowed painfully. “Why didn’t you ask me to see to those hands?” she asked, her voice sharper than intended.

Murtagh’s mouth quirked up at this as he read the apology in her face and voice. They both knew she would allow him no more ground until Faith was safely returned to her arms.

Claire extended her hand to lift his for a better look. She had brought no supplies with her in their hurry, but could at least wash it in the fresh stream 10 yards away. She would want something to flush out her mouth, regardless—

Murtagh yanked his hand back. “Not yet.”

Her mouth formed a hard line, but she nodded once.

After a quick visit to the stream, Murtagh placed a hand on her lower back to boost her into the saddle, and they sped on.

________________________________________

Jamie’s mind raced as he and Fergus continued at a break-neck pace. It would be just short enough a distance for the horses to not require rest. A mercy, as he doubted he would have the patience to stand still, even if it harmed the magnificent creatures he held so dear in his heart.

He ignored the needs of his own body, even as it screamed for fulfillment. He’d forgone sleep in favor of spending the last hours with Claire. He hadn’t eaten in favor of helping grow the bairn in her belly.

He had hoped to part with his family – a ridiculous notion in itself – peacefully that morning. His daughter never would have understood it, of course.

He would never understand it.

He had been granted persons he loved more than life itself, only to have them ripped away after such a short time, already rife with heartache. Perhaps that was one of the cruel alternatives of life. Either to have love and lose it, as his father did. As he would. Or to never even come close to it.

Even the tender farewell he had initiated between himself and Claire had been tainted. While they rested their heads together, made love, their daughter had been kidnapped and possibly tortured. Or worse.

Jamie had been a fool to expect Claire to accept his affections after such a realization. She had twice pulled away from him just that morning. The unimaginable possibility of the loss of their lass – who had fought so hard for her life already – would ruin them before the stones ever had a chance.

He had always thought of them as a team. As a young man, he had expected to lead his future wife, only an ideation at that point, in all things.

But then he had met Claire.

He would never have dreamed of leading such a creature as her.

She was too stubborn to be forced along with no input in the matter.

And so they led each other instead.

Claire had carried him out of the darkest depths of misery in the aftermath of some of the worst days of his life. She had laid her hands on him and healed his body and soul with her own.

It was hardly what he expected in his youth, but he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

In turn, Jamie had led her when he could. When he felt worthy.

But then he failed her.

Both of them.

All of them.

He had made the mistake of assuming his plan to be seamless, even if formed in fraught circumstances.

Murtagh would lead the young lads from Lallybroch back home, many of them to their mothers.

(That he had even considered calling them away in the first place, only for the vanity of Charles Stuart…)

Before his return, he would gather Faith from Lallybroch, likely against the teary protest of her aunt, who had sworn to take the bairn as her own. He would carry her up the hill to Craigh Na Dun. Then Jamie would rip his own heart from his chest.

But even Murtagh, the man who had never let him down in life, was not invincible.

Jamie could hardly have stopped the inevitability of the Rising. There were too many parties, too many players, each of which thought they knew best. And the pretender to the throne was all too susceptible to the most grandiose of plans. Impressive, if doomed, marches that would cost him nothing.

The one thing he was able to promise was to see his family safe, and there was only one way to do that now. It was a path with much more significant hurdles to overcome than yesterday.

Only the thought of holding Faith in his arms once more spurred him on. It was his only hope. To see her safe as soon as possible before sending her to a peaceful time with the only person that could love her as much as he did. The only person he could love as much as he did her.

He was already out of his mind with grief at the prospect of bidding his firstborn goodbye until he met her in Heaven. Sending her to safety was leagues above the thoughts that his scattered mind conjured now.

He couldn’t prevent his stubborn brain from painting images of the dire outcomes possible with his daughter – whose chubby legs had barely toddled her into his arms at their last farewell – in the clutches of Black Jack Randall. The pain that he had experienced at the man’s cruel hands had haunted him for years now. He would not, could not, inflict that pain upon his daughter.

His wame curdled to think of the things the man might think to do to the wee lass small enough to hold in his palms months after her birth.

Jamie thought of the fine, still-forming bones of Faith’s hands. Claire had pointed out early signs that she would be cack-handed, as he was. He studied his own non-dominant hand, smashed with Randall’s mallet to test his commitment to the torment to come.

Jamie snuck a glance at the boy riding tall in the saddle next to him. He was a far cry from the lad that had screamed for him in the cursed Paris brothel. The trauma they had in common had changed them both forever.

Claire had told him of the pain that was to come, tales of Redcoats leaving women and bairns alike for dead.

Randall was far more malicious than any ordinary Redcoat.

But if the demon so much as plucked a hair from Faith’s wee head, his remorse would be unimaginable.

Jamie prayed above all else that his daughter would not pay for the foolhardy hope of Scotland. Of the blasted Bonnie Prince.

But if the worst happened, if he was given half a chance and the slightest provocation, he would rip Jack Randall’s head from his neck and carry it in triumph into battle on a pike.

“Milord!” Fergus’s shout of alarm pulled him from his simmering thoughts.

Jamie strained his eyes to see the rows of white tents visible through the trees ahead. Even from far away, their supply of men, ammunition, morale, highlighted the utter foolishness of the Scots marching into battle that day.

The hopelessness of Jamie marching into their camp right now.

But somewhere in its maze of red, his future laid unprotected.

There was no other solution.

No other outcome he could live with.

That he could die with, today.

Je Suis Prest.

#Jamie Fraser #claire beauchamp #faith fraser #murtagh fitzgibbons fraser #fergus fraser #Gone #canon divergence au #Outlander #outlander fanfic #my fic #tw: violence

105 notes · View notes