#fraser gently asks Ray if he's alright
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Edinburgh To Boston - Chapter 13 - The Aftermath
Good evening everyone! Finally, chapter 13 of Edinburgh to Boston is ready. As the title implies Jamie and Claire will both be dealing with the results of the evening's events. There is a continuation of Claire’s recollection of the events that led to the ending of her marriage to Frank. We also get to meet Joe.
I do need to thank my betas for their magnificent and tireless help, suggestions, and comments. Thank you @curlsgetdemgurls and @scubalass. You guys keep me on my toes and push me to do my best.
As always I welcome any thoughts suggestions, comments you would like to share with me.
I hope you enjoy reading.
Without further delay, I give you:
Edinburgh to Boston
Chapter 13
The Aftermath
She was in her element. Healing. She would go to help anyone in need, young or old, rich or poor, good or bad. It didn’t matter to her. If someone needed her help, she would be there. He knew and loved her for it. But why did she feel the need to help Randall, especially after what he had done?
Jamie didn’t like it. He didn’t believe that the fucker deserved her assistance. In his opinion, if anyone cared to ask him, the bugger could just lay there and rot. He could rot here now and in hell through all eternity for everything he had done and just did to her. He did feel a momentary twinge of guilt about these feelings, though, as he is a doctor too. This time, he thought, he could look away from his Hippocratic oath and do nothing to help. It made his skin crawl to watch her help him after he molested her. He wanted to vomit and felt the bile rise up, hot and bitter, burning his throat. Swallowing hard, he forced the acrid fluid back from whence it came. He could do something, he reasoned. He could pick her up throw her over his shoulder, albeit while she was kicking and screaming, and carry her as far away from the bastard as possible. Besides, he wanted to finish the job. To feel every bone in Randall’s body snap like a twig. That’s what he wanted. He is a jealous and protective man when it comes to those he loves. But, Beauchamp! By Christ, the woman causes him to have this overwhelming need to keep her safe. Why does she make him feel this way?
Sitting there with his hand in the bucket of ice and a murderous look on his face, he took in the scene playing out before him. His eyes, like a blue-eyed eagle, roamed over the scene, watching, observing. Every movement, every slight nuance of body language or facial expression between them did not go unnoticed. He kept his body taut like the string of a bow with an arrow nocked and ready to fly free. He would not be caught unaware again. One wrong move and he would pounce. If he broke more bones in his hand, what did he care? Better yet, one swift kick to the man’s bollocks should do it. Aye, drop him like a stone. He chuckled to himself at the thought. Fair’s, fair after all. The filthy git grabbed Claire’s mmhmm, why shouldn’t he kick his in for good measure. That would solve a myriad of problems. It would wipe that look off his face. A look that said he still wanted her.
The rogue could not be more mistaken. The lass is his now and he would not give her up, not without a fight.
Abruptly, his thoughts took off in multiple directions. What had delayed her following him? Did Claire stop to talk to the man? Did he stop her from leaving? Damn, he hadn’t seen what happened. He wanted to leave in such a hurry to reach the safety of their room that he had no idea what transpired after he left. And she paid the price for his mistake.
“God, Jamie, yer such an eejit,” he scolded himself. “How could ye go off and leave her behind like that?! Ye ken what the man is like. Ye shoulda given her yer arm to take, like a proper man. No’ leaving her to fend him off. Ye failed her when she needed ye the most. Ye promised to always protect her, see her safe. And what did ye do, ye great numpty? Ye left her.”
An icy chill ran down his spine. It did not come from keeping his hand in the cold bath. His eyebrows arched, eyes opened wide, and his jaw hung open. Maybe she blamed him for what happened to her? “Weel, why not, ye do. Ye were no’ there when she needed ye, were ye? Ye showed up after he did her damage. Then, ye come running up to inflict yer own brand of mayhem and carnage.”
Maybe he took things too far, he wondered. Maybe she did not want vengeance laid at her feet. Would she think him a barbarian? What if she still wanted the filthy sassenach? Could she? If she did, could he be brave enough to simply walk away and let her be happy? He froze at the possibility. “God, no! Please, dinna let it be true,” he prayed. Living a life without her by his side chilled him to his bones.
A knot formed in his throat choking him. His chest tightened and his heart began to pound and squeeze. Breathing came in short gasping gulps. Still analytical, he thought that this is what it feels like to die. Aye, better to die here and now than live without her. With his good hand, he fumbled to loosen his tie and open the top button of his shirt. Air! He needed air. Taking several deep calming breaths, his heart began to slow and his breathing normalized. Quieting his raging emotions, he realized he could deny her nothing even if it came at his own expense. If that's what she wanted, then he would find the strength to step aside and learn to live with only half a heart. For her, he would and could do anything. He hung his head as a single crystalline tear ran down his face.
“Jamie love, does it hurt much?” she asked as she gently wiped the watery bead from his face with the pad of her thumb.
Looking up he beheld the glory of the sun in those golden eyes. Glistening wetly, his lashes clumped together.
“Claire, I thought, mebbe...I...I wasna sure if ye…Mebbe ye didnae want...” He looked at her with a helpless expression and fearful of what she might say or do.
“Tell me what’s wrong? Are you hurt anywhere else?” Quickly, her glass face became inscribed with worry while searching for additional damage.
“Nay lass, I am whole except for…” He raised his large paw up showing it to her. His hand and splint remained dry but felt icy cold. The ice kept the swelling to a minimum.
Claire sensed that something was bothering him, but she did not want to push him to tell her. She knew he would in his own time. Or at least she hoped he would. She decided to move on to a different pressing matter.
“Jamie, you need X-rays and an orthopedic evaluation. Joe Abernathy sent an ambulance for Frank. We can go in the ambulance with him. It will all be handled discreetly.”
His eyes narrowed and a dark shadow floated over his face. “NO,” he snarled hotly. I willna ride in an ambulance with that, that…” What followed was a string of Gàidhlig invectives the likes that Claire never heard before. She whispered a prayer of gratitude that she didn’t understand.
“You bloody stubborn Scot! You’re a surgeon and you need functioning hands. Has the thought occurred to you?” They were nose to nose now, glaring and hissing like two cats readying for battle. Neither would give in.
“Dr. Fraser, Dr. Beauchamp, may I offer my assistance?” Padrick the hotel chauffeur inclined his head smartly to them. “I heard of the, um, unfortunate altercation,” Padrick turned to scowl at Frank, “and thought I might offer my services. I could take you wherever you need to go.”
Jamie turned his head to Claire giving her a smug look. See I told ye there was nae need to ride in an ambulance with yon villain.
She gave her head a small shake and rolled her eyes heavenward.
“Thank you, Padrick, we appreciate your assistance. We need to go to Massachusetts General Hospital. Dr. Abernathy is expecting us. Do you think that someone could go to our room and bring our coats down? Oh, and there is a large multi-color silk scarf in the closet, could someone bring that too?”
“I will speak to the hotel manager, Dr. Beauchamp. I’m sure something can be arranged.”
“Excellent. I’ll go speak to Pierre and tell him an ambulance is on its way. I’ll be right back, Jamie.”
“Alright, Sassenach.” He continued to scowl at the Englishman with an intense ferocity.
Claire approached the restaurant captain to tell him about the outcome of her discussions. “An ambulance is on the way for Professor Randall. He chose not to press charges against Dr. Fraser. Likewise, I shall not press charges against him.”
“But Madam, how can you let such a thing go unpunished?” he squeaked in shocked surprise. “This hotel has a reputation for turning its face away from many things, but this??”
“It is for the best for all concerned, Pierre.” Her gaze slowly gravitating toward Jamie. “But, thank you for your concern.” She took hold of both his hands and squeezed them lightly.
“As you wish, Madam,” he shook his head in disagreement. “But should you ever change…”
“I won’t. I believe that he will keep his word. He has much more to lose than I do.”
The maître d' sighed shaking his head in disagreement.
Noise from the front of the restaurant signaled the arrival of the EMS crew. The female surgeon provided an outline of the patient’s injuries to the Paramedic.
The rescue team swiftly performed their own evaluation, lifted Frank, placed him onto the stretcher, wrapped him warmly, departing swiftly.
Padrick appeared with the requested coats and scarf. Claire quickly fashioned the scarf into a sling for Jamie’s arm. She helped him into his coat, as he clutched his injured hand against his chest.
“Thank ye, a leannan,” he said leaning over to place a kiss on her forehead.
She smiled, took his uninjured arm, “Let’s go and get that hand examined, hmm, Fraser?”
“Aye, Beauchamp, as ye say.”
They walked out of the restaurant to hooting, cheering, and applause. Jamie turned bright red at the attention directed their way.
“Um, Sassenach, just what did I do?” He looked rather embarrassed.
“You don’t remember, do you?”
“I dinna recall much. Just that I needed to make him pay for what he did to ye.”
“That you did, my lad. And you made him pay handsomely,” she smirked. “Your Viking berserker ancestors have nothing on you. Just don’t make it a habit of going howling in the woods wrapped in a wolf’s hide while you’re starkers,” she added with a mischievous grin on her face.
“Sassenach, what are ye on about?” His eyebrows raised with a curious look on his face.
“Never mind,” giggled the archeologist’s niece.
The chauffeur had the car at the entrance of the hotel waiting for them. They entered the car and drove to the hospital in a comfortable silence.
Joe Abernathy stood sheltered off to the side of the ambulance bay waiting for his two friends.
“Claire! Jamie!” he called out when they arrived.
“Joe, it’s so good to see you,” exclaimed Claire.
“Aye, it truly ‘tis a pleasure tae meet ye. Only I wish it were under different circumstances,” said Jamie as he waggled his hand.
“No matter. It’s wonderful to meet you. I hope you have been taking good care of our girl here?” Joe inquired pulling his best friend into a warm embrace.
Jamie winced at that. His cheeks flush with the heat of shame; his guilt rising to the surface again.
“I’m doing the best I can, ye ken. She is no’ an easy woman to take care of, aye?” He ran his hand through his hair ruffling it so it stood on end.
Joe laughed heartily clapping Jamie on the back, “Brother, you have no idea! Come on, let’s get you to radiology.”
A transporter with a wheelchair waited inside the bay and whisked Jamie away as he protested he could walk unaided. That idea was summarily vetoed.
Joe’s attention shifted to his friend. “How are you LJ, really?”
She turned her head away, not wanting to meet his eyes. Those golden hawk eyes now went hollow with the forced remembrances of a time longing to be forgotten.
“Fine, perfectly fine,'' she uttered unconvincingly.
Abernathy stopped and took her by the shoulders, “That speaks volumes. I know what that means. Now, what’s wrong, Claire? What are you not telling me? How are you after Frank...”
It happened more than three years ago. She sat with Lamb in his home while he took in her battered and bruised appearance. She had tried to escape. What she got for her effort was a face smashed against the chest of drawers. A dark blue-purple contusion now blossomed on her cheek where her face had met wood. Her lips swelled, split oozing blood whenever she spoke. The white flesh of her arms bore his finger marks. The imprints turned into livid purple things. Malicious mementos of his grip when he forced himself into her. Her broken nails stood in silent testimony to the fierce battle she had engaged in.
Lamb gently took her hand in his wizened, time-worn one. She flinched as if to pull away from his loving touch. “Oh, my dearest girl, whatever has he done to you?” As he gazed upon the disfigured face of his beloved niece he heard the sound of his heartbreaking. It made a rather small, soft sound something akin to the snapping of the stem of a flower off at the root.
“Honestly, Uncle, I’m sure you can see for yourself.” Claire wiped her nose on the back of her hand distantly observing the streaks of mucus stained with blood now smearing her hand. Pearls of moisture gathered at the corners of her eyes flowing like raindrops intent upon washing away all traces of the taint and tarnish that covered her. Overwhelming her.
It took some time, but Lamb convinced his niece to seek medical help and to document her injuries. His lawyer met them at the hospital, gathered the needed information and testimony to begin legal proceedings immediately. The divorce moved forward uneventfully. She wanted nothing from her miserable marriage except her freedom. She opted to not press charges for assault, battery, and rape fearing how the press if they got hold of the story, would portray the sordid details. ‘Niece of the renowned archeologist, Quintin Lambert Beauchamp, raped.’ would have made great headlines. Having her life and her sham marriage dragged publically through the mud became unthinkable, intolerable. Truthfully, she did not think she could face Frank during the trial, either. Fear of what degrading or demeaning thing he would say about her strongly eliminated any desire to prosecute him. She simply wanted to run and hide and never look back, putting all the pain and shame behind her. She only wanted to begin her life over. As in cases of spousal abuse, the circumstances surrounding the severing of marital ties would remain sealed. She and her Uncle left Boston upon receiving the divorce decree. Lambert Beauchamp died a few months later leaving her alone. With only her unwanted memories and her ghosts for company. She never mentioned what happened to anyone.
“Frank!” she snorted, hot with fury. “I’m embarrassed, humiliated, angry.” Befouled actually describes it better she thought. “Honestly if I could, I would cut his heart out and have it for breakfast. But, I can’t do that can I?” Pressing the heel of her palm to her eye sockets, she willed away any chance of tears.
“I’ve decided not to prosecute Frank, although I would dearly love to see him behind bars.” For this and everything else, he has done. Claire began to pace gathering her thoughts into some cohesive form. “Trust me, I am not doing this to spare him anything. I’m doing this to protect Jamie. I don’t want him to do any further damage to his hands, bloody stubborn Scot! Or harm his reputation. He’s too good of a surgeon for that. It would be a great waste.” Her eyes hardened from soft liquid honey to hard fossilized amber. Her voice and manner became laced with a steely determination. She set a course of action and made a commitment to seeing it through.
“There is one other reason,” she exhaled wearily, “and that is to protect his students. Frank is a womanizer. I want to stop him from debauching any more naive young women. He is a brilliant teacher. He just can’t keep his hands to himself.” She knew what it was like to be held under his magnetic spell. Handsome. Debonaire. Cultured. Speaking in sweetened gilded words. The man, in essence, personified a true Lothario.
Joe looked at Claire, wide-eyed in disbelief, “LJ, it’s noble what you’re doing, but it’s still not right that he gets away unpunished for this.”
She reluctantly turned to face him, hands rubbing at both her temples, “I know, but it’s what I think, no, what I need to do.”
“The real problem is with Jamie. I haven’t told him yet that I am not pressing charges against Frank. I know he’ll be upset when I tell him. But I can’t tell him now.” Her face was pale, lips a taut line, her countenance anguished. “I’m afraid of what he’ll do. You should have seen him there! My God, I thought he’d kill him if I hadn’t stopped him. I don’t want to lose him. I can’t.”
“Do you love him LJ?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“You need to be honest with him, you know. You owe him that.”
Conflicting emotions roiled in her belly. She struggled with the need to keep him safe against the need to be honest with him. “I will tell him. In Scotland. He can’t do any more damage from there. It’s a risk, I know, but one I’m willing to take.”
She turned away from her friend. Her mood becoming more pensive. Speaking softly, almost so only she could hear, “I can’t lose him. I won’t! Whatever it takes to protect him, by God, I’ll do it.”
Jamie had become her heart and her soul. She would move heaven, hell, and anything else that came in her way to see him safe. To protect him. To keep him with her. He epitomized her last chance at happiness, for love. She loved him with more passion than she could have imagined possible.
Beauchamp hesitated before continuing, “It’s been so long since I felt anything for someone else, you know since I thought I could open my heart to another. I kept it impounded, safe under lock and key. Then, he comes along with those blue cat eyes, curly red hair, and boom! He just walks off with my heart. How did he do that, Joe, just how the hell did he do that?” This was a rhetorical question, one that Claire already knew the answer to, but she got an answer anyway.
“Lady Jane, did you really ever consider that he is the one?”
“Yes. Yes, I have and that’s just the point. It frightens me. I’ve never felt like this before, certainly not with Frank.” Claire scoffed. She puffed out her cheeks exhaled strongly, “I’m just afraid that it will all come crashing down around me. I don’t think I could bear it. I really don’t.”
Her face anxious, she looked for reassurance from her best friend.
“C’ mon here, LJ,” Joe smiled opening his arms in a comforting invitation. She stepped readily into his open waiting embrace. “You’re smart, funny, beautiful, and so many other things. The man would have to be a real asshole to let you go.”
“You’re just saying that because I’m your friend,” she smirked jabbing him in the ribs.
“And that’s because you have excellent taste in friends.” He gave her a sly conspiratorial wink.
At that moment, Joe and Claire could hear Jamie’s loud raucous laughter as he returned. “And the altar boy said to the prostit...Sassenach!? Are ye alright, then?” His muscles tightened. His whole body becoming alert. He surveyed the area looking for a possible threat.
What the hell happened now?
She looked different like some interminable heavyweight threatened to pull her down into the boundless sea. Drowning her, stealing her life-force, taking her away from him.
Producing a weak smile, Claire leaned over lightly kissing him on his temple, “Everything is fine, my lad, just fine.”
“Where are we to meet Dr. Nelson, Joe?”
“He’s waiting in exam room 6. Let’s go on over.”
Joe pushed the big Scot’s wheelchair toward the examining room.
“I’ll no’ go without Claire.” His tone became adamant. Twice he had left her alone and twice something happened. And he wasn’t there when it did. No more.
“Claire, mon cher, ça va?” A pretty petite brunette woman rushed up to clasping her warmly and kissed her cheeks.
“That’s Louise de la Tour, ENT. She’s attending to Frank’s broken nose. They were friends during their residency.”
“Aye, I see.” Jamie accepted this information.
“Joe, will ye tell me something honestly?”
“Of course, if I can,” he replied cautiously.
“What happened to Claire while I was having X-rays? I come back and she looks fair fashed.” He looked questioningly at his new friend.
Joe sighed, “You two need to talk about what happened. I told her she needs to be open and honest with you. You need to be truthful with her as well. There can be room for secrets sometimes but not lies.”
“Aye, that we do.” he began to wonder what she could have said.
Arriving at exam room 6, they found Dr. Nelson, a squat balding man with soft dove grey eyes, intently reviewing Jamie’s films.
“Dr. Fraser, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I reviewed your radiographs and there are simple hair-line fractures of your right third and fourth fingers. Nothing serious. Immobilization with a splint for several weeks should fix it right up.”
Dr. Nelson re-splinted Jamie’s fingers as Claire walked into the room.
“Ah, the lovely Dr. Beauchamp. Your quick thinking to splint the injury prevented further damage.” He noticed a frown on Claire’s face. “Not to worry, just two hair-line fractures, nothing that rest, ice, elevation, and immobilization won’t fix,” he smiled reassuringly at her. “And we’re done. Follow up with your orthopedist when you get home. You will need some physical therapy to maintain your dexterity. Good meeting you both.” The orthopedist smiled tiredly departing swiftly longing for the comfort of his bed.
Claire leaned over wrapped her arms around her love pressing a kiss onto his burnished curls. “Alright my lad, I think it’s time we get back to the hotel. It’s been a long day and even longer evening.” A profound weariness cast its shadow over her face. Dark smudges visible around her eyes; her shoulders drooping with fatigue.
Taking hold of her hand with his one sound one, he lightly returned the gesture brushing his lips to the palm of her hand. “It has been a long and very eventful day mo ghràdh. Ye look fair puggled,” he observed looking at her demeanor. “Ye need yer sleep.”
They left the exam room hand in hand, fingers twined together. Spotting Joe, they called out their thanks, bidding him goodnight.
Walking toward their waiting car, Jamie looked at his Sassenach a question burning in his mind. “Claire, I ken ye would want Frank (he nearly choked on the name) tended to first, but I’m wondering, when will ye give your statement to the police about what happened? I had expected to see them here.” He wanted to see them there. He wanted to see the look on the bastard’s face when they arrested him for assault.
Claire froze in place letting go of his hand. All the color drained from her face, her mouth went dry, and her hands became as cold as ice.
“Jamie…”
“What’s a miss, mo chridhe? Are ye no’ well?” He came to her side in an instant taking her hand in his. “Yer hand lass, yer chilled through,” his face registering worry and concern. He pulled her close to him offer his warmth to her. “What’s wrong?”
She could not look at him. She prayed the floor would open up swallow her whole sending her deep into the bowels of the earth never to be seen again.
He placed his thumb and forefinger on her chin lifting up her face to look at his. “Tell me. Ye ken ye can tell me anything a nighean.”
His hand warm, strong moved to cup her cheek. His thumb gently stroking her cheekbone.
Claire slid into his embrace, arms wrapped around his waist, her head resting on his chest. Safe. At this moment, she felt the security, love, and protection of his arms. She clung to him, wanting, no needing, to feel the solidness of him, the strength of him against her for what she believed would come to be the last time. When she would tell him of the agreement she made with Frank, Claire knew everything between them would change.
#edinburgh to boston#chapter 13#the aftermath#OL fanfic#jamie and claire#Jamie's thoughts on what happened#Claire's abuse#keeping secrets is not always a good thing#brainwashing#My writing#thanks to my betas#curlsgetdemgurls#scubalass#Here Goes Nothing
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The Ties That Bind
Previously
AO3
Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoy the next chapter.
Thanks to @mo-nighean-rouge for the beta
Chapter 4 : An Emergency Appointment
Cure sometimes, treat often, comfort always. Hippocrates
Jamie sat on the hard plastic chair and shifted uncomfortably. The fluorescent strip lighting overhead was giving him a bit of a headache and he was conscious of the mobile in his pocket, silent now, but Jamie knew at any minute it would start chirping away and he would have to talk to his sister.
Wee Jamie, on the other hand, seemed in fine spirits as he sat on the trolley in the little cubicle, curtains partitioning them off from the other Emergency Department patients. “Wot’s ‘at?” He asked his uncle, pointing.
“Hand sanitiser, makes yer hands nice and clean, gets rid of wee germs.”
“Wot’s ‘at?” He repeated, pointing in a different direction.
“Box of gloves, sae the doctors and nurses can put them on when they have tae examine ye… are ye sure ye’re feeling alright? How’s yer arm now?”
“‘S poorly.” Wee Jamie looked down at his left hand, motionless in his little lap. “Ouch… sweetie?” He added hopefully.
Jamie laughed despite his worry. “Ye wee gomerel. Ye never miss an opportunity, do ye? Dinna fret, afore I deliver ye back tae yer Mam, we can get some sweeties. Seeing as she’s goin’ tae shout at me anyways for letting ye hurt yerself, we can just add ruining yer teeth tae the list.”
The curtains parted slightly and a young nurse poked her head into the cubicle. “Mr. Fraser, we’re just waiting for the orthopaedic surgeon on call to come and take a look at your nephew. Shouldn’t be too long now.” She smiled coyly at Jamie. “Can I no’ get ye anything? Tea, coffee, sandwich?”
Jamie smiled politely. “No thank ye. But have ye a wee bit of juice or milk for my nephew?”
“I’m no’ sure he should have that, in case they need tae operate. Let me check”
Jamie blanched at the thought of a possible operation. His nephew was so small, to see him have to go through that would be unbearable. And with Jenny so close to her due date, too.
“Unca, wot’s ‘perate?” Wee Jamie still seemed unconcerned by everything going on around him. Easily distracted, he quickly added to his requests whilst his uncle was in the mood to spoil him. “Chips too an’ sweeties, pease?”
“Aye laddie. Chips and sweeties it is. After we’ve seen the doctor.” Jamie leaned over and planted a kiss on his nephew’s forehead.
The rustling of the hospital’s paperlike curtains took Jamie’s attention away from his nephew. He looked up as the doctor came into the cubicle. His breath hitched in his throat, no... more than that, the expression ‘take your breath away’ had never been so true.
After mere glimpses of her at Rupert’s wedding last month and in the pub less than a week ago, here was the woman who had invaded his daytime thoughts and his nighttime dreams. Her long legs were encased in baggy green hospital scrubs with the matching top camouflaging her curves. Her dark curls were haphazardly tied back in a ponytail, with corkscrew wisps escaping and gently feathering her forehead and cheeks. She was all that he remembered and more. He forced himself to stay calm. This was about his nephew, not him.
Claire’s hand flew instinctively to her hair, trying, ineffectually, to tidy the wild ponytail. She looked straight at the Viking who had captured her imagination at that hotel the month before. And he was here… with a small child. Great, Claire tried to compose her thoughts, pull yourself together, Beauchamp. He’s here, worrying about his child and you’re busy feeling disappointed that he’s already taken. Get a grip!
“Hello.” Claire directed the greeting to the small boy now sucking his thumb. “My name’s Claire and I’ve come to see how I can make you feel better.”
Without removing his thumb, Wee Jamie eyed her up and down before silently passing judgement and snuggling closer to his uncle. Jamie pulled him fully onto his lap.
“ Now, Jamie, that’s no way tae greet the doctor who’s gonna make ya feel better.”
“That’s no matter.” Smiling, Claire pulled up a chair and spoke directly to Jamie. “Well, Mr Murray, I’ve reviewed your son’s x-ray…”
“He’s no my son, I’m Mr...er... Jamie Fraser.” Fearful of Claire getting the wrong idea, Jamie quickly interrupted. “I mean… that is… he’s my nephew… my sister’s laddie. I was mindin’ him today and... weel…”
“Ah, sorry, ok… is his mother on her way?” Ignoring the butterflies fluttering in her stomach at this welcome piece of news, Claire maintained her professional demeanour.
“I’ve left her some messages, just waiting fer her call. She’s probably nappin’... she’s eight months pregnant, ye ken.”
Fed up with being sidelined, Wee Jamie decided to join in the conversation. “Aye, Mam has big baby tummy, Da says.” He confided.
Claire smiled. “And I’m sure she’s thrilled every time he says that.”
She turned to the computer next to her in the cubicle and quickly pressed a few keys, waiting for the screen to fire into life. “So, would you like to see a picture of the inside of your arm then, Jamie?”
As the x-ray image appeared, Claire began to explain. “So, Mr. Fraser, from the nature of the accident and the pain localised at the base of the thumb, I was concerned that there was a scaphoid fracture of the wrist. But, as you can see,” she pointed at a small white mass on the x-ray. “There’s no fracture there. Which is a relief as that would have needed a cast at best and possibly even surgery. So, we’re looking at a bad sprain, which will get better on its own. Just make sure to rest it plenty, young man.”
Fascinated by the image on the screen, the little lad wriggled in his uncle’s lap and pointed. “Dat my arm?”
Claire nodded. “It’s a picture of the bones in your hand and arm. See, here’s your thumb and fingers…” She leant in as she started to explain. So close, Jamie could almost smell the shampoo of her hair, almost feel the heat from her body. His knee almost grazed against hers in the confined space of the cubicle.
A insistent chirping broke into Claire’s explanation.
“Sorry,” Jamie shrugged. “This must be Jenny, my sister. I’d better take this.”
In a low voice, Claire continued to talk to Wee Jamie, gently stroking his arm as she named the various bones in his hand and arm. With one ear, she tried to listen in to the conversation Jamie was having with his sister (albeit one-sided).
“Aye… Aye… Och, ye ken what he’s like with the ducks… He loves tae chase them… Aye… We didna see the tree root… just went flyin’ and put his hand out… it’s no’ bad, just a sprain… Aye… the doctor’s here now… Aye, the orthopaedic surgeon… she says it’s no’ bad… ok...”
Jamie passed the phone to Claire. “Sorry, would ye mind having a quick word with ma sister?”
Claire took the phone. “Mrs Murray? Claire Beauchamp here. Don’t worry, your son is fine. Your brother did the right thing and brought him in to be checked out. There is no fracture, so the sprain should heal itself. Just make sure he rests it… ok… not a problem… I’ll pass you back… Goodbye.”
“Jenny, I’ll see ye in a bit. Jamie and I are goin’ fer a bite to eat… Aye, healthy, I hear ye… no, no chips… bye.”
As his nephew’s lower lip started to tremble, Jamie reassured him. “Dinna fash, lad, we’ll get some chips on the way home. But, shhhh, dinna tell yer Mam.”
Claire pulled her chair back and stood up. “Well, I’d hate to stand in the way of you and your chips, Jamie.” She stroked wee Jamie’s hair briefly. “You enjoy and I hope I don’t see you in here again!” Claire looked at Jamie, trying to keep her professional face together. “Nice to meet you, Mr Fraser.”
Jamie hesitated and looked at his feet. Would it be wrong to ask for her number? Would I look like a sleazebag, trying to pick her up as she was doing her job, caring for my nephew?
The rustling curtain gave him his answer. She had gone, decision made. Well, at least he knew her name, and where she worked, that was a start.
Jamie stood up and lifted his nephew in his arms. “Come on then, there are chips waiting fer us tae eat them.” He drew back the curtain and headed for the exit. A hand on his arm halted him.
“Sorry tae bother ye.” The nurse talking in a quiet voice seemed familiar to him, her strawberry blonde hair neatly tied up in a bun. He just couldn’t place her. “I ken the lad’s alright, but, just in case ye need tae consult with the orthopaedic surgeon…” She placed a piece of paper in his hand and walked away.
#outlander fanfic#outlander fan fiction#the ties that bind#Jamie Fraser#claire beauchamp#chapter 4#wee jamie too#modern AU
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Sorcha
Previously
LAST TIME
"Is everything alright, Sorcha? You look pale as a fetch."
Murtagh with the barest of movements, shook his head in silent plea.
"I'm fine." Claire replied, tearing her eyes from the older man to Jamie's concerned face.
"Must have been the sun."
_____
Claire smiled awkwardly as all eyes were on her, searching for the lies she was sure were written plainly on her face.
"Indeed. Folk all over have been touched by it, keeling over like flies out in the fields. Dangerous it is to be out in it's full glare and on horseback no less." Ellen gave Jamie a look of disapproval that went unnoticed, as his eyes were fixed on Claire.
"Ye do look faint, Sorcha." Jamie brushed his knuckles to Claire's cheeks, a fevered tinge of pink from brow to nape that he found alarming.
"A lie down will do her well, aye lass?" Murtagh interjected, his tone leaving no room for disagreements as Claire felt the pull of submission to one as high as he.
"Yes, that's just the thing." Claire nodded, assuring the two redheads who seemed ready to throw her in a chilly loch.
"I'll put ye in Jamie's room." Murtagh insisted which Jamie began to protest wanting to take her himself, but Claire held up her hand in protest. He had come home for a reason, she reminded.
With a begrudging acceptance from Jamie, Claire excused herself and with a wary eye allowed Murtagh to guide the way.
_____
Claire was brought to a room that smelled of fresh, sharp pine and faintly of a cat who 'happened' upon an empty bed for his taking. There was a chest along the wall peppered with bits and bobs from youthful exploration. Colored pebbles and stones, chipped spiral shells of whitish pink and an oval speckled one of green crossed with yellow. Not to mention the balls of tangled string. Why he would need any of it was a mystery but she couldn't help but wonder what hid behind the drawers. Charms against malevolent spirits or oddities like a withered moles foot hidden amongst the shirts?
Books were in every corner - on the windowsill fading the leather with spines of loosened stitching, stacked on shelves threatening to fall just to be read and what looked to be one tucked under a pillow of a long bed in the corner. A favorite he hoped to dream of, perhaps?
Claire felt the awful need to touch every point in the room to share the secret that had been at Jamie's side all along. But the door closed behind her with a soft thud and the presence of another prevented her from unburdening the knowledge that stabbed sharply at her breast.
The man's face looked to have aged five times over since they were in the kitchen when Claire turned to him. His mouth was so thin a line his coarse bush of beard covered them whole, black brows so tightly knit they seemed unified in their worriment, and the familiar steady beat of fingers that she had the sudden urge to hold steady.
"A 'Bhrian?" Claire asked in a hush even though she knew the answer.
Without a word Bhrian silently nodded, the fingers at his side losing their rhythm.
Maybe it was the vulnerability he displayed or how changed his appearance was to her but Claire felt the tumble of words fall out of her mouth not caring that he was a God and she, but a speck in oblivion.
"How could you be so reckless to defy his law again? He was being lenient with you before but now…" Claire felt her throat restrict and dry thinking of the two in the other room, where Jamie was sharing an unknowing lie of his father's fate.
"Tis none of your concern, Rionnag bheag. You will do as I say and quiet yourself." Bhrian warned her all but losing his thick brogue. His eyes darted to the door and beyond to the people it did involve and shouldn't, couldn't know.
"None of my - " Claire glared at the command and what to her was a belittling endearment even as her chest pounded erratically at a being who could cease her living with a glance.
"Whenever your son's heart is gripped with sorrow he calls out to my own. To speak to me, pray to me. I would give Jamie all that I am to relieve him of any anguish. So yes, it is of my concern."
"And who do ye think his mother prays to?"
The glistening rays that streamed through the window faded to a solemn dusk as Bhrian's voice cracked. "I will speak no more of this and neither will you to they. My time here is short as well as yours is now. We both must go to our lives as they were meant to be."
A 'Bhrian left her standing alone, heart lurching in a chaotic beat, with Adso scratching fervently at the door.
______
Jamie walked quietly to his room careful of creaky floorboards and the clank of the iron handle as he turned it. Inside the dim room he saw a candle was lit, the flame too small to cast out the shadows but enough to lend it's sparse light to the ruffle of Claire's soft hair and outline the sweep of curves that sat atop the quilts. Adso was smug in her lap, experiencing waves of affection fit for a braw cheetie such as himself.
"Did ye have a fine time nosing 'bout my room?" His eyes narrowed in accusation but the turn of his lips suggested otherwise. "Anything catch yer fancy?"
Claire couldnt help the tug at her lips and replied matching his features.
"Nothing much I didn't know already. You have a mind for worlds set elsewhere, though your taste in literature is something to be desired. As does your interest in rocks."
Jamie walked over to the chest, thumbing the objects that had caught his eye for their colors or how the smooth or jagged shapes felt in his hand.
"Weel, my heid is made out of solid stone like my brethren here." Claire agreed emphatically while the corners of Jamie's mouth twitched. "And elsewhere seemed to have more promise for salvation. I was right about that, aye?" This time his answer was the flush of Claire's cheeks that the shadows couldn't conceal.
Seeing her disarmed Jamie was ready to broach the subject of her well being but Claire queried about his mothers, her voice sounding booming in the quiet stillness. Jamie sat on the edge of the bed facing her, his hands stretched out on his knees.
Ellen, he began, with multiple swipes of his head when he told her of his true intent when he left the farm followed by wide-eyed awe of the kindle that had laid dormant inside his blood. Then came the pour of drink with the dispiriting answers of He, who despite all the years she had hoped to see again. She sat stoic with questions here and there that did nothing to diminish the blow she had received until it came to Claire.
"She finds ye to be most wondrous, Claire and would like to speak more to the lass who has been such a blessing to us Fraser's over supper."
Adso's ears perked at the mention of food and curled closer to Claire, who continued to stroke the silver silkiness behind the cats ear as he purred in encouragement and stretched for more.
"Beware, my wee glutton is trying to sweet ye out of yer helping." Jamie teased his cheetie along it's paw, the nails unsheathing and then quickly retracting as Claire ran her fingers along his spine that arched in response.
"Adso can have my share, I haven't much of an appetite." She couldn't bear with praises to pile on the bubbling guilt.
Jamie caressed her cheek while the pad of his thumb skimmed along her smooth skin. Claire assumed Jamie was merely feeling for a fever as her palm met his wrist and where his pulse was surprisingly fast as a long exhale escaped her lips.
"Why must ye lie?"
"I'm not lying." She stated adamantly, regretfully, as Jamie removed his hand to join her other in the warm fur that raised with blissful breathing. He waited a beat, choosing his approach before answering.
"You are." Jamie insisted as his mouth upturned at the corners even if the humor didn't wholly reach his eyes. "You eat without a second thought to breathing and verra near savaged my hand when ye had the buttered bannock sopped in honey at Moubrey's."
Claire searched his face and found his sworn word from days before that he would not press her for more, even if it drove him to frustration. Taking the branch he extended she returned the smile, however small, as the memory left a sweetness inside her.
"You tried to steal from my plate, thief and suffered the consequences that I have yet to regret." Claire gave Jamie a faint pinch at the back of his hand and he shook it away from her in mock injury.
"It was thievery or starvation and I'll gladly risk a digit when it comes to my stomach. We have that in common." This time his smile was true and Jamie took one last shot of persistence.
"At least have some to tea to soothe ye, aye?" He gently offered." You may find it to yer liking as much as any ale or whiskey ye've downed. Or have all three and drink us under the table."
There was no escaping the inevitable without further sending his nerves on edge and Claire relented with a sigh that sent Jamie to go cat-eyed in victory.
"Well, now you have enticed me. Lead the way, Jamie and take note my warning of idle hands."
With a parting scratch to Adso, Claire grabbed Jamie's hand where his long fingers entangled with hers.
______
Supper however was not to be.
An argument was boiling from the kitchen down to the corridor, nothing new to the walls of Lallybroch. Jamie raised a hand for Claire to stay while he went to try to diffuse whatever mess his godfather stepped in.
"Ye've been out all day and you won't sit with us for supper?" Ellen sounded baffled and Jamie could imagine her hands at her waist standing at full height that even to him could be intimidating.
"Is it her that's the cause?" Jamie paused at the doorway and to his dismay Claire had followed right behind at his side.
"Jamie it's nothing, come away from there please." She pulled at Jamie's forearm to no avail, the rising fervor of him under her hands startling her to dig her her nails deep enough to mark.
"I ken you have a distrust of anything ye can't eat but I dinna think ye an ill mannered - "
"Will ye let me gi' a word in woman, It's no' -"
Jamie came in then, dislodging himself from Claire's iron grasp and would have his own fisted with his godfather's collar if it weren't for the hindrance of a table between them. "If Claire hadn't risked herself at my plea, our fields would be a wasteland still with nothing but weeds to sustain us and I would no' have what is burning my veins raw towards ye now." The burning manifested itself in the crackling hiss of the wooden surface to black under Jamie's palms.
"I will no' have you shaming us, Goitsdh."
"Shaming?" The very word a scathing brand delivered to him from his fair haired sire. "Aye that's me. A blight to any souls happiness. A stain to look down on by ones just as she." And him. Murtagh's eyes were of an onyx gleam directed towards his kind with a star unjustly caught in it's path.
"Dinna look at her that way." Jamie's voice was dangerously low as angers ignited in a flash and ran like a current across the table catching on Murtagh's sleeve enveloping instantly.
Ellen was first to grab the pitcher, Jamie crying out in a panic as he was set to leap over the table - all for naught as Claire could only watch as the events unfold.
Murtagh's arm, encased in a furious red hued in blue at it's core, was extinguished by a downward stroke of his hand. His skin unmarred, only the sleeve was a burnt up nothing. Blue eyes all round staring in open mouthed shock.
The billowing smoke slowly dissipated to the open window as silence hung in the air until only one was brave enough to disturb the quiet.
"Who are ye?" Ellen's voice quivered as she held the pitcher still. Unaware? Ready to throw? Didn't matter it would break in a moment.
"Am I much changed from our first meeting?" The corner of Bhrian's mouth lifted most pitiful as his shoulders sagged. "Not so young. Not so resplendent as when I came to ye, mo chridhe, dying for your touch?"
Ellen's hands reached for Jamie's, hers now free as pieces of porcelain scattered the floor and water pooled at her feet. Her eyes brimming with tears searching his face for recognition of the man who left her longing in memories and dreams.
With his head lowered from Ellen's scrutiny of his degraded state, he bowed it further to Claire, who hovered just beyond the settling grey.
"Forgive me, Claire." He sounded remorseful, ashamed. "It's wasn't you my vile temper was towards. The only blame lies within me, my own weakness."
Claire didn't know if she spoke or nodded her head in acknowledgement, her focus was on Jamie. Pale faced, jaw clenched shut that sent the vessels in his neck to rapidly pulsate and firmly at his mother's side keeping her upright.
She stepped away from him and they - the family Fraser.
"From the beginning. Now." Ellen demanded.
Bhrian slunk down into the chair as his legs numbed, the stench of the scorched oakwood, nauseating as he was the target of it's fury. He picked up the story as Claire knew it, that had been passed on from every God and high being to fallen star and man.
He had been given a punishment from the God that was all at once his father, brother, friend. To be imprisoned with haunting dreams so vivid of what was lost to him - where in the span of a heartbeat he had once held and loved holiness herself. It became a torment worse then death that festered and rotted at the core of his molten self. Bhrian begged the high one whose very name meant mercy, to exile him to the low lands of man to the woman who held the cure. But His high one, with a shuddering breath had passed his judgement that could not be overturned even for his firstborn.
Then in Bhrian's endless mourning surrounded by his own diminishment whispers crawled up his spine and circled him with promises of alluring hope…
And so Bhrian found himself inhibiting the mortal world as a man his beloved wouldn't recall. Every few years he was able to serve his family as any man would, in a body that strained with labour no longer effortless, to earn what paltry sum he could. Yet even when his joints stiffened to a gnawing hurt and he was soaked in sweat he felt the poison cease in his blood
"I am a cowardly man as ye can see my loves. I wasn't brave enough to exist without ye and put myself at stake just to be near you both." He finished in a voice so small and hoarse.
"All this time," Ellen murmured. "I thought of you as my one true kin when all my family forsake me. My - who would never lie to me…" Her lower lip was bloodless and trembled. "And now ye'll leave us again?"
"It's no' my will or choice. I'm only allowed so much time here lest the world boil from my happiness and others grows suspicious if they aren't already." A faint weakly smile crossed Bhrians face. "I have a few days, less if ye want me out in the dirt, mo ghràidh."
A few days. Less…
"Gods, I dinna ken what I want to do to ye but stay so I can scream til yer ears bleed and thrash ye till your raw." With words of vowed violence, Ellen then spoke most longingly -
"Stay, mo Bhrian, mo sheann duine."
His name on her lips, a scarcity hardly breathed that relit him close to ash. Bhrian was set to weep.
With a sharp intake of air he spoke to his son a child no more.
"And you, Jamie? I know you harbour a justified resentment of me, of that I will not deny. Shall I pick up my sword or will we settle this with fists?" He rubbed his arm, while unblemished, was still reeling in the rare sensation of physical pain and was prepared for more and worse.
"Your gift of sword melted and forged with the earth, unfortunately. Nor have I found it necessary to invest in another, considering." Jamie set his hand on the table palm up."I have no cause to fight ye. I forgave ye by a brook at sunrise." Where his - Jamie swerved his head in search of a pair of amber eyes finding empty space. Did his flash of violence cause her to flee?
"You should go after yer rionnag." Bhrian urged seeing his sons distress, a pain all too familiar." In my haste to keep myself from the two of ye I may have broken her heart. A sin to do so to a daughter of the moon for they lose their radiance." And fall from grace endless till their no more then dust. But Bhrian withheld such dour information to himself.
"I take no offense, mo mhac." Bhrian spoke at Jamie's loyalties splitting him down the middle. "We will have our own time after your mother has her vengeance." Ellen's eyes flared as she smirked and Bhrian felt a shiver go down his spine. With an exchange of words Jamie headed out the door.
"He gets that tenderness from you, ever since he was a bairn, bringing any injured creature his wee hands could grasp. But ye ken that."
"And the strength mightier then a God from ye, mo chridhe. But ye know that."
Then a shyness creeped in that talk could not alleviate- still too great a many conversation that needed to be had - the only resolve was most upfront in Ellen's mind. She rose from her seat to be at Bhrian's side, whose breathing was ragged at her being so near. She touched his hands, nicked and splintered, furred black at the backs with knooby nuckles, hiding their elegance that had at once held her as if she were as holy as he. Ellen pulled them to her now giving him permission to touch her as he pleased.
They stayed where they were, fingers twitching at the fabric, palms broad at her thighs.
Ellen regarded the features of her beloved that lay hidden in a hardened face and underneath a mangy beard she'd swear to shear before dawn. She traced his face from temple to chin and with a grin pinched his longer nose. No, he didn't resemble much of the being of ancient perfection - yet, his eyes and hair were still dark as the veil of night that was overhead, with lips -now thinner - still holding promises of unending delight. Beckoning to her still as he burned rich in adoration, boundless and consuming to the bone.
"May I ask ye for a kiss to take with me to my lonely existence?"
"If ye had'na the scruff I would, but I see have no choice, mo ghraidh."
______
Claire was walking along the fence covered in sweetly honeysuckle vines and the odd sprout of violet buds that twirled with the white. She hoped all inside Lallybroch were not at one another's throats and as the potent smell of fire had yet to pierce the crisp air, she took it as a sign that all was well.
But still she lingered and would have stayed so, reluctant to interrupt the family finding their way, if it weren't for a heated touch at her shoulder that ran down to cup her elbow, turning her, drawing her near.
Jamie's natural ruddiness was dulled in the twilight, and his brows furrowed with a heavy crease between that gave her heart a stutter. Had it all gone wrong with his father? The hurt of the deceit too deeply rooted?
"Did it not go well with your father?" Claire raised her hand letting her fingers gently grazed the barely there stubble at his chin. "Is there anything I can do?"
Jamie shook his head, keeping her hand firmly to him by her wrist.
"It went more then well and I can hardly believe the truth of it. But you, mo Sorcha, took to the wind and had me worrit that I frightened ye with my temper. Ye must ken I had'na meant for it to happen, that I would never do such a thing."
"I know it, Jamie. A man who has empathy for trees would do no harm to a living soul. But thank you for defending my honor, even if it wasn't necessary." Her fingers had been brushing the curve of his jaw, with every stroke reeling him closer and closer so that he breathed his relief against her face. But only briefly.
"He - my father told me all, Sorcha. Of how ye knew who he was once you saw him, what he asked of ye and -" Jamie paused, trying to repress a forming frown. "Of how he could take ye home. I did vow I would see ye safely to yer proper place, though I figured it would be a ways from now." Months, maybe a year or more. Not days if even that.
Jamie tucked an errant wisp of hair behind her ear that the breeze had whipped about her face. Letting his fingers thread through her brown curls, already missing the way they made her huff in irritation and grow riotous in excitement.
"So did I." Claire croaked not meeting his eye, letting her own fall to the shriveled blades of grass beneath their feet."I never even got to see the ocean with you, see you pickled green with sick from it's briney waves." A smile faded just as it appeared at his spite towards moving waters. "We barely - and to never… " Her voice hitched as her ribs contracted, squeezing her lungs, suppressing words too painful to speak.
But her falter gave Jamie a surge of courage to ask his star for once what she wished for, no matter the answer. His arms came around her tenderly emanating warmth that thawed the vise at her ribs.
"You never asked to be here, to be torn away from all ye knew. Tell me, Sorcha, what does yer heart yearn for and I'll shower ye with all the glory of such a thing."
A choice of path no longer clouded with confusion and doubt or fear of what stirred at her breast.
"All my heart desires, that overwhelms me with such wanting, such happiness and so much love is you, Jamie. The only soul who ever looked upon me and saw hope, you who gave me second life." A confession so freeing even as it left Claire's heart hammering with breathlessness.
An ache so acutely echoed in that very same soul whose eyes of blue so like the core of impassioned fires sought hers and Claire had the dawning realization that she was never to be alone.
Her heart began to hum.
Jamie's hands splayed at Claire's back throbbed hot and gathered her to him till their heads were bent to one another. Where their chests heaved together, breath dizzied one another and all else was blotted away.
"Even if I canna adorn ye with the hallowed rings of Satárn? For all that my two hands are capable of they only offer ye a farmers life or of a wanderer sleeping in heather."
Did he truly think she cared? Her hands made their ascent up his chest that caused his lips to part for air and one went further still to cradle the back of his head to press it firmly to hers.
"The rings of Satárn are of rubble and I'd rather be with you in the freezing rains climbing a cursed mountain or in fields of sweltering heat. I love you more then any barren abyss."
A love that welled under the skin.
Where a hum became a hymn, so rousing. Reflecting starlight, so lustrous to be the envy of every star dotted above.
That set a another to burst in brilliant firelight and for all that bathed in it's beauty- every stalk, every blade and petal to flourish in magnificence.
"And I you, mo prìseil Sorcha. And I will -" Claire rudely, impatiently, boldly silenced Jamie with a kiss that he didn't seem bothered by as the roiling blaze sunk deep into their veins.
They saw one another in every flaw, every perfection They saw the span of their life intertwined past the time of Earth past the point of time where all that stood was he and her.
Even then we're they engulfed in whiteflames.
______
And so it was that the night was long and peaceful. A gift bequeathed by the moon goddess herself, the keeper of all secrets for ones so deserving.
They who sought eternity in a lovers embrace.
A boy held his precious starlight close to his breast as consciousness stirred her to wake. A whimper was heard, a dreamy sigh responded and further they melted into one another with whispered reverences of love.
Another sigh was heard as Ellen shut the door to the room filled with a gauzy glow.
She was met with a crooked curious smile from her other half. With a shake of a head and wave of a hand, the red haired lass pulled 'Bhrians bare cheek, no beard to tug.
No cinders to smother just yet.
Ellen clasped her arms fiercely around his middle craving every lost touch as he crushed her to him as well. He rocked her back and forth where he reassured her again and again -
"We will have this day and many more to come."
Even if he be damned for it.
*The gaelic word for the sun is A'Ghrian but there is no emotional attatchment there and rather than going between three names I switched the G to a B for Brian.
*Murtagh means Sea and skilled or skilled navigator which is close enough to water to be the suns opposite.
*The High God is Lord John Grey who isn't evil just a stickler for the rules!! I mean Bhrian sent the world to chaos what was he supposed to do. John also means grace and mercy. Very fitting.
*There is no scottish gaelic word for Saturn so I took it from the irish gaelic.
*Rionnag is star
* Mo sheann duine is my old man
*And I always forget- Mo preseil sorcha is my precious light
I'm probably forgetting other tidbits too...
Sorry for another late update. I had this outlined this as fast paced and blunt when it was paired with the last chapter but separately just didn't work. So i had to rewrite this from the ground up and really struggled and drowned in the juggling act of two important conversations and emotions, when to be dramatic and when to be light. Love confessions that are a headache to write... Urgh! I hope it all makes sense I tried to keep the essential stuff (I deleted alot of convo between Jaime/Bhrian and Claire/Ellen..)
And finally, THANK YOU to every single person who read this little fantasy story that I thought literally no one would read and to every kind comment i recieved.
I hope you enjoyed the journey!!!
#Freedom to catch up on fanfics and podcasts like a nerd#Outlander#outlander fanfiction#outlander fanfic#jamie x claire#this storymay not be done...
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As Yet Unread: Part 4.
Anonymous said: Where can I find the link As yet Unred... I have been reading it in bits and Pieces. Thank you
-- I took this from my personal blog, I hope you don’t mind, Anon. Please find all the previous parts attached here as well as the newest chapter --
Prologue (i) (ii). Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.
Sitting patiently in the flattened chair, Claire kept her good hand clenched around the faded leather of the seat. Jamie leaned against an empty table, his gaze unapologetically trained on Claire as they waited for Dr Gowan to return with the x-rays.
“Ye ken if yer arm--”
“Yes,” Claire interrupted, her excitement palpable, “it’ll be fine, I know it.”
She was almost vibrating, her hands tapping out a nervous rhythm against the base of the chair and Jamie didn’t want to quash her hopes if she was feeling so positive about the diagnosis.
Dr Gowan had promised that if Claire’s arm had healed enough and her fingers were in a similar condition she could go home with Jamie today and, even though the light had long since faded and most of the other specialists had gone home, Ned was going to stay in order to complete the tests needed to see if Claire was fit enough for release.
“Jamie,” Dr Gowan called from the doorway, “can I just borrow ye for a moment?”
“Of course,” he replied, smiling over at Claire before exiting the room behind Ned.
Closing the door, Ned turned to Jamie with a serious glint in his eye. “It’s important I just talk to ye about the implications of releasing Claire wi’ her night terrors still untreated, aye?”
“So she’s fit to leave then?” He asked, his chest lightening with the news. At least she had been right about her own health.
“Aye, she is. Her arm can come out of plaster but she’ll still need some physio on it, and she’ll need to come back in two to three weeks to have the cast of her leg and some rehabilitation. The muscles will ha’ wasted, ye ken, and she’ll need help adjusting to walking again. But that’s no’ my main concern now. My worry is that as much as she wants to escape her hospital bed, she hasna considered what life will be like now. It’s new and scary. Also, the last time she left a building she came to some harm, that sort of memory doesna fade so easily. She could verra well have a panic attack and be unable to leave. What I want to ken is what will ye do if she gets herself to the doors and these memories show themselves?”
“I canna fail her now, Ned,” Jamie replied, scratching his forehead nervously. “If I have to gather her in my arms and carry her to the car I will. I dinna ken much about post traumatic stress, its symptoms or its cures, but she needs a better place to heal mentally. That isna here and ye ken it well. The pills and the sedatives make her crabbit and miserable - as much as they do help some, they dinna help her. She’s stronger than any of us can even comprehend, Doc, so I have to gi’ her a chance to get better.”
“Alright then, Jamie lad. I trust ye. But you need to promise that you’ll contact me if yer worried about anything at all. I willna force her to stay somewhere that’s no’ helping her, mentally, but I expect that at some point the memories of her past punishments will rear up and swallow her whole. When that happens make sure ye dinna let yerself get in over yer head. If she needs access to anything at all, whether that be medication or an appointment wi’ a psychologist, call me.”
Nodding, Jamie followed as Ned walked back into the room with a large smile on his face.
“Good news, Claire,” Dr Gowan said, his hand reaching for the elasticated bandages that lay on the tray table beside the reclined chair, “yer arm is looking fairly stable though you are going to have to keep it wrapped and secured to yer chest - at least while yer resting. I’ve spoken to Jamie just to make sure yer homecare routine is set, and I’m happy for you to go home and recover in private. How does that sound?”
Loitering in the doorway to her private room, Claire leaned forwards on her crutches, getting used to the sensation of the plastic covered metal that now rested beneath her armpits. Jamie had banished her as he packed the few belongings that she’d accrued into a bag that Murtagh had brought over a few days previously.
“Anyone would think ye couldna wait to get away, lass.” Jamie joked as he folded her last jumper - one that Ellen had knitted and sent down with Jenny - and placed on the top of the filled bag before zipping it closed and placing it on top of his own jacket.
“Are you sure you want me in your home, Jamie?” She asked, her eyes wide and sincere as she leaned most of her weight on her good leg and swung the other backwards and forwards.
She was shaking but trying to hide it with the motion of her cast.
“Dinna fash,” Jamie replied, making his way over to Claire slowly. Placing his hand gently on the swell of her cheek, he rubbed the pad of his thumb against her flushed skin, “Jenny and Suzette have been in and made ye the perfect room wi’ nice furniture and decor - something I know verra little about - but it’s safe to say that yer more than wanted in my home, Claire.”
Closing her eyes, Claire sighed and tilted her head so that it rested more fully in Jamie’s palm.
“Are ye scared, Claire?” Jamie asked honestly, feeling a slight quiver run through her.
“Terrified.” She confessed.
“I’m here. I promise ye that, lass. I told Ned the same. Whatever happens from here on out, I’ll get ye home. Do ye trust in that?”
“Yes,” she whispered lowly, “just don’t leave me here.”
“I willna do that.”
Walking down the hall towards the admissions reception, Jamie let Claire lead the way as he carried her belongings. They’d signed the release papers in the room and Claire was free to leave without any further checks. Worried about Claire’s admission and Dr Gowan’s warning, Jamie kept a close eye on Claire but he didn’t want to place any of his fears onto her just in case they manifest into reality when they wouldn’t otherwise have surfaced but he didn’t want to be caught unawares either.
“Murtagh’s coming for us.” Jamie said happily as he walked through the sliding doors next to Claire, his finger pointing towards the short term car park, “I think he’ll be waiting for us.”
“Did he not want to come in?” Claire asked, her voice wobbling a little as she spoke but she seemed to right herself as they turned left out of the hospital.
“I didna want to crowd ye, neither did he.” Jamie answered honestly, unwilling to openly lie to her about his intentions. “Ye’ve been through a lot, Claire,” he said, looking left and right as they crossed over the small road. She still seemed happy enough as they approached the small Ford containing Murtagh and wee Fergus, “and we just want ye home now, aye? Though I’m sure Jenny is arranging something to celebrate as we speak. She’s a whirlwind, that one.” He joked.
Climbing from the car, Murtagh rushed round to take the small bag from Jamie. Placing it in the boot he came back to open the front passenger side door for Claire. “Ye can sit up front wi’ me,” he said cheerfully, “or ye can keep Fergus company in the back. Where would ye like to sit, Claire?”
Claire had met Fergus before when Suzette had brought him to the hospital. It was strange, she knew about babies from her biology A Level all those years ago, but she’d never actually seen one. Fergus seemed incredibly fragile to her and, although she knew he was actually so very resilient and strong, his tiny limbs scared her.
Glancing through to the back seat, Claire locked eyes with wee Fergus, his bouncy curls -so very much like hers- sliding in front of his eyes as he scrunched his nose and laughed freely. Claire smiled along with him, captivated by his bonnie blue eyes and his varied facial expressions.
“I-I’ll sit in the back,” she said finally, stepping away from the front of the car towards the rear, “if you don’t mind that is.”
“O’ course no’!” Murtagh laughed. “Fergus likes the car, if ye put yer finger in his hand he’ll hold onto ye as we ride.”
Perching herself in the back, Jamie took the crutches from her and placed them in the boot before climbing into the front passenger seat beside Murtagh.
Listening for the click of her seatbelt as he did his own, Jamie watched Claire in the rear-view mirror as Murtagh pulled the car out of the car park and back onto the main road. She seemed comfortable enough but her gaze was fixed on the youngest Fraser bairn as Fergus smacked his lips together playfully. Jamie observed Fergus as he reached his tiny hand upwards, wiggling his fingers in between Claire’s curls as she bobbed her head as she let him play.
It wasn’t until - only moments from Jamie’s flat - Fergus gripped a little too hard that Claire’s mental wall finally came crumbling down. Jamie watched in subdued horror as her eyes glazed and she drew herself back as close to the door as possible. Sensibly, Fergus immediately let go of her hair and went back to tugging at the stuffed dog Murtagh had placed in his lap.
Claire didn’t make a sound but her heart was thudding mercilessly in her chest as she curled her good leg up towards her chest and squeezed her eyes closed. She could feel him circling her, his harsh grip keeping her head elevated as the invisible threat whirled around her in the small back seat. Bile rose along her throat and she clamped her mouth shut to stop herself from throwing up in Murtagh’s clean care.
Murtagh; she thought blearily…
...she wasn’t stuck, bound and gagged on the floor of her old home. No, she was safe, with Jamie and on her way to *his* flat. But she couldn’t pull herself from the memory. Biting her lip hard, Claire tried to repeat to herself over and over. It’s alright, she whispered to herself, he’s not here. I’m safe.
Strong arms surrounded her, the warmth of them giving her a reprieve from the daggers that were digging into her fragile flesh. She realised, belatedly, that she’d been clenching her body so tight that she’d begun to get pins and needles through her feet and hands and that her calves had started to cramp making them almost too sore to move.
“It’s okay,” she heard a far off voice mutter mirroring the words she’d been chanting to herself, “yer safe, a ghraidh. It’s alright.”
She was shaking so badly that Jamie had a hard time keeping hold of her as he carried Claire up the stairs towards the lift. Murtagh followed behind, one hand gripping solidly onto Fergus’ carrycot and the other holding Claire’s bag. They boarded the lift in silence, listening only to the shallow gasps of Claire’s breath as she panted through her panic. Jamie could feel her tense and relax as they stepped out of the lift on his floor and headed the short distance to his front door.
“Are ye just going to let her sleep?” Murtagh asked quietly.
“Aye, thanks Murtagh. I’ll stay wi’ her for now but I dinna think there’s much I can do other than keep talking to her.”
“She can hear ye so I’d say that’s a good bet. Once she’s fought through the worst of it she’ll be able to use yer voice to bring herself around I reckon.” Murtagh said wisely, placing Claire’s bag down and patting his nephew on the back. “I ken it doesna feel it when yer living through it, but she’s calmer now than she was in that hospital room. That’s something right, even if only a small victory?”
“Och, aye it is,” Jamie said quietly, smoothing the hair from Claire’s forehead as he wrapped the blankets around her trembling shoulders. “From what Ned said before we left this was pretty much a given considering her ordeal. It was more a matter of when she’d have her first panic attack rather than if.”
“J-Jamie?” Claire whispered, her throat rough and dry.
“I’m here Claire,” he replied, nodding to Murtagh as he quietly left Jamie and Claire be, closing the front door softly behind him. “Yer wi’ me, aye? Home.”
Squinting her eyes open, Claire shuffled as close to the edge of the bed as she could get and slipped her hand out from beneath the sheet. Jamie took it, his warm palm wrapping delicately around Claire’s.
“Thank you,” she said sleepily, her eyes opening and closing drowsily as she tried to keep herself awake, “for everything.”
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Prompt ideas: F/K, desperation or amusement park
Ray’s not scared. He literally drove a motorbike through a window that one time - he’s not scared. He’s just not a theme park kind of guy. Even when he was a kid, he preferred arcades or drive-thrus or eating burgers the size of his face while Stella chose her favourite song on the jukebox. (His mom tried to say it was because his cousin Lonnie made him watch The Clown Murders one night when their parents were out, but he thinks she’s just missing the point).
“We’re in pursuit of a dangerous criminal, Ray, I don’t think now’s the time to worry about - ”
“It’s always the time to worry about - ”
“Well, yes, and at any other time I’d be glad to talk to you about - ”
They’re interrupted by a knock on the car window, and Ray thrusts the winder down so the patrol cop can poke his head in. “You guys planning to get out here any time soon or?”
“Yes, of course, right away, officer,” Fraser says, practically leaping out of the car, while Ray stays where he is to catch his breath a little more.
It’s big, and imposing, the sky’s starting to get dark which casts shadows over everything. The loops of the rollercoasters and the enormity of the ferris wheel and why’d the perp have to come here when it’s closed, anyway? Does he have a death wish or something?
“Are you sure you’re alright, Ray?” Fraser asks for the third time since they got the call about their suspects whereabouts. “You look -”
Like an idiot, Ray finishes in his head. He unholsters his gun and makes the first move forward. “I’m fine, Frase. Let’s just get this guy and get out of here, yeah?”
“Of course, Ray. Let’s.”
*
When Fraser calls by a few night later he has Welsh’s keys in his hand and he’s not wearing a uniform. He’s not even wearing a hat. If it weren’t for that stupid, dimpling smile he always gives Ray when they’re alone, Ray would almost be worried.
“What’s going on?”
“I’d like you to come with me,” Fraser tells him, then seems to catch himself and quickly adds. “Please.”
“Come where?”
“It’s a surprise. It’s a little cold out though, so I think you’ll need a jacket.”
Ray’s too curious - and too far gone in this thing with Fraser - to bother arguing. They’ve been going out places, dating, for a few months now but this is the first time Fraser’s come to take him anywhere. Fraser would prefer to walk the length of the city then drive. He says it’s because of its impact on the environment but Ray reckons its because he’s so lousy at it.
“You brought me to an amusement park,” Ray says pointlessly, as they both look up at the flickering neon lights, listening to the music and the call of the crowds. Fraser at least had the piece of mind to choose a place they hadn’t arrested a murderer in.
“Yes, Ray. I could tell you were ... apprehensive the other day and I hoped that if we came together you might feel a little more comfortable. That you might actually enjoy it.”
“Have you even been to one before, Frase?”
“Well, no. Not if we don’t count the other day.”
“Which we don’t.”
“So there you go. We can both experience it together.”
Ray doesn’t move. He wants to say, thanks for caring about me, he wants to say, you’re an idiot, why can’t we go some place we actually like. He wants to run off and he wants to climb over and kiss Fraser’s face off.
He wants a lot of things.
“Okay. Okay. Just this once. We’ll play some games, eat some terrible food and maybe go on the ferris wheel if it looks up to standard.”
Fraser smiles, leaning across to cup Ray’s face with one hand and kissing him gently. Ray breathes. “That sounds perfect, Ray.”
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Fast Forward.
I hope this appeases @internallydeceased MWAH - Mod MBD.
I will find a link to all parts and post them with the request as soon as I get chance to search them all out, thank you lovelies for your patience.
The knocks came intermittently, but Claire didn’t move to open the door. Twenty-four hours later and Jenny had given up trying to get Claire to come out of the room, leaving her to her own devices.
Jamie hadn’t come up at all.
Claire saw it as a sign. Had he felt any warm feelings towards her he would have certainly followed Jenny up to check that she was alright -surely.
Pulling her robe aside, Claire sat with her back to the mirror. Her cheeks were pinked, her nose still red from crying but she’d ceased her endless sobbing, at least for the moment. Looking at her spine she traced the angry red welts as the snaked down and under the furry material of her dressing gown with her eyes.
Foolish, that’s what she had been. Jamie and Jenny had been her constants in a confusing and new world. Claire had let those small moments that she’d had with Jamie build in her mind but looking at her healing injuries now she could see what she hadn’t before.
How could anybody love her like this?
Running her fingers over the tops of her shoulders, Claire felt the ruptures, over the scabs that were now just thin and twisty but deeply gouged into her flesh. She was forever scarred. Although she knew that it didn’t mean a whole lot in this time, where she was from it was the mark of a criminal. She’d already seen a couple of responses, peoples reactions as they stared in horror and then walked away.
Admittedly, there hadn’t been many opportunities for her to have her top low enough for members of the public to see, but on occasion her shirt would slip as she was at work in Ray’s shop and customers would catch a glimpse of the scars.
“Claire,” Jenny whispered through the door once more, her heart in her mouth as she tried for the last time to get Claire to come out. The door had been locked for nearly two days and though she had access to water, she must be starving by now. “Are ye going to come to tea? It’s my last night as a Fraser, it would only be you and I…?”
“No, thank you Jenny,” Claire replied, biting her lip and closing her eyes as she tried to quell the anguish that was filling her once more. She did not want to start crying again, not after it had taken her so long to stop the first time. But the request had tugged at her heart strings and she felt terrible that she couldn’t quite bring herself to leave.
“But ye have to come to the wedding lass?” Jenny questioned, unsure anymore as to whether she actually would or not.
Hiding her head in her knees as she turned herself fully away from the mirror now, Claire shook as she tried to answer Jenny. At this moment in time she didn’t want to see anyone at all. But how could she not attend? Not when Jenny had pulled out all the stops to have an extra meal added at such short notice.
“Just not today, Jenny, please…” she begged waiting until the footsteps had disappeared before darting from the dressing table and crawling back into bed again. The duvet still smelled faintly of her last long sleep, the stench of her own body clinging to the fibres but Claire couldn’t bring herself to care too much. She hadn’t bathed since she’d locked herself in the guest suite but then again, she hadn’t needed to.
Dozing on and off, Claire lost another day to her increasing melancholia and by the time the morning of the wedding came around, she had built her internal walls so high that not even Jenny could coax her from the bedroom.
Having spent a good ten minutes with Fiona by her side, Jenny tried everything she could to get Claire to join them in their celebrations downstairs. Cursing her brother’s grand plans, Jenny gave in and went to call the only other person she knew who might have significant influence over Claire.
--
Ray stood with his forehead broached against the hardwood of the bedroom, he smiled a sad smile, his lips lifting only slightly as he knocked quietly. “Claire, ma cherie? Are you alright in there. Jenny says you haven’t eaten for two days. They’re all worried about you, lassie.”
He heard the door lock click and moved back a little so that she could open it for him. There had been no objections, no talking through the door at him. Claire had simply obeyed his request, her hunger imposed fatigue had taken control of her body and mind. Since Ray’s confession to Claire, she had felt this increasing bond with the man who’d somehow saved her life and his soft French lilt had broken down the barriers she’d carefully constructed around her.
Sneaking through the small gap, Ray entered the small suite and closed the door behind him. It took him a moment, but when he first caught a glimpse of a very bedraggled Claire the breath caught in his throat.
“Claire, lass,’ he choked out the shock settling in his bones as he reached a shaky hand forwards, “you must cease this now, come out and have a decent meal, yes?”
Biting the inside of her cheek to stop the tears forming, Claire swallowed back the bile that had begun to rise along her throat. “Is it always this hard?” She whispered, her hands fiddling nervously with the hem of her oversized jumper.
“Is what hard?” Raymond questioned, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion. He knew all of the story having heard it from a very apologetic Jenny only an hour or so before but he hadn’t wanted to make assumptions without hearing from Claire first. Jumping in his car and whizzing over to Lallybroch, he’d suspended any thoughts on the matter and having seen her in such a state, he hadn’t thought about it since.
“This,” she said, her left hand resting softly over her heart as she spoke, “...love.”
--- --- ---
Snaking her way through the crush of bodies, Claire snuck into the elaborate reception hall, along the wall and into the throng of people gathered around the buffet. Raymond had sat patiently and listened to her side of the story before hustling her into the bathroom to clean herself up. Now, suitably dressed and scrubbed, Claire tried her best to blend in with the wedding guests.
She had missed the entire ceremony and the lunchtime meal, but Ray had made it incredibly clear; she couldn’t spend her time hiding away from either Jenny or Jamie. The longer she left it, the harder it would be - and he had been right, of course. But now she was here, trussed up in the evening gown Jenny had lent her for the occasion, Claire couldn’t help but feel even more out of place.
“Ye shouldna push your way into a queue, you know, Claire,” Jamie whispered, his warm breath fanning over the exposed expanse of her neck as she froze in place.
Claire had been so panicked, her thoughts blurred as she’d tried to stealthily enter and join in with the wedding party as sneakily as possible that she hadn’t noticed Jamie’s eyes upon her. Instead of avoiding him, he’d clocked her the moment she’d arrived and had made sure to be out of sight until she’d let her guard down enough for him to get close.
Claire’s heart was beating a forceful thrum in her chest as she glanced over her shoulder, her face a nice vibrant red as she looked up at him from under her lashes. “S-sorry,” she stuttered, her mouth going completely dry as words failed her. She felt like a blithering idiot as she stood in his shadow, the music blasting around them as the party continued unawares.
“Will ye dance with me, Claire?” Jamie asked, his tone hopeful as he rested his hand lightly on her elbow, hoping to guide her decision with a brief touch.
“I don’t think I can…” she returned. Fear gripped her as she recalled dances she’d been invited to in the past.
“Och,” he said, “you can. It’s all in the leading. I promise I willna steer ye wrong.”
Nodding, Claire turned, letting her arm slide towards her him, allowing Jamie to take her hand in his and tug her gently towards the partially empty dance floor. The music changed as they were moving, sliding effortlessly from a more jaunty rock and roll tune into something more delicate. Claire blinked slowly as Jamie took her in his arms, pulling her body flush with his as they moved with refined ease in a small circle.
“Did you truly cook for me, Claire?” He asked when he had her safely cocooned against his chest. He felt her fingers tighten around his but she made no move to run away. Guided by his movements, she swayed, his bicep neatly holding the majority of her weight as her ribs vibrated with the intensity of her heartbeat.
Claire didn’t want to think about her failed romantic meal and she hid her head, trying desperately to avoid the loaded question.
“Tell me, aye?” He said, his voice a mere whisper in her ear as they danced on the spot now.
Claire nodded, her mouth too dry to even consider answering out loud...again.
Her ears pricked at the sound of his reply, but it had been quiet and in Gaelic. She couldn’t pick up enough of the words to understand what he’d said, but the word ‘gràdh’ made her chest burn with desire. The wounds on her back forgotten, his endearment sent a pulse of desire shooting through her and she (unconsciously) rolled her hips against him as she panted out an uneven breath.
“Claire,” he sighed, the subtle keen in his tone drawing her head upwards as she squeezed her eyes shut before opening them fully. Looking at him properly for the first time in days, Claire saw the desolation that lay behind his sea-blue irises. She could see the bags around his eyes and the slight blurred redness that now marred his otherwise perfect stare.
She gasped lowly under her breath as she swallowed. Maybe it had been exacerbated in her imagination, but it didn’t seem as if he’d had much rest in the last few days either; mental or physical.
“Yes,” she answered a beat later, her lips barely moving as she tilted her chin further upwards.
Jamie leaned his head to one side, his eyes half closing as he drank in every inch of her.
“May I kiss you, please?” He asked politely.
“Oh,” she returned, pleasantly surprised at his genteel approach.
“Because I think that I’m falling for you and I dinna wish to wonder what ye taste like any longer. Please, Claire, kiss me,” he said, moisture gathering on his lower lip as he spoke.
“You...like me?” Claire replied, shocked. After all, she hadn’t suspected he had feelings in return.
“Aye, Claire,” he said, “I believe I do. And maybe it’s more than like, but I canna ken for sure until…”
“Yes,” Claire broke in, her whole body aching to meet passionately with his, “yes, you can kiss me, Jamie,” she finished, her hands trembling now with some force as his grip intensified.
Now he really was keeping her upright.
Not wanting to waste another moment, Jamie licked his lips languorously, his tongue peeking out for just a second as he dipped his head as Claire tilted hers towards him.
The feel of his stubble against her chin was electrifying. That was her first thought as Jamie’s lips pressed delicately against her own. The second was that he tasted like whisky and a fine summer's harvest. Grass scents lingered on her tongue as Jamie slid his gently into her open mouth. It was divine. Soft and damp, warm and fresh, soft yet punishing as the feelings she’d been beginning to experience before crashed over her like surf on a sandy beach. Claire felt as if she might drown as their kiss seemed to go on forever. She couldn’t even recall whether she’d taken a breath since they’d begun - but nor could she bring herself to care.
Slowly but surely, Jamie pulled away, his hand (his fingers partially buried in her hair whilst his palm rested perfectly along her jawline) twitched as he forced himself to end their embrace.
“Christ, yer beautiful,” he murmured almost to himself. The ringing in his ears intensified as he pulled himself out of the trance she’d imposed upon him with her ethereal beauty.
“...you don’t care about my back, about my past?” She said, worry gurgling in her gut as she spoke.
“About yer back?” He said. “No, of course not. Had I kent yer feelings for me, Claire, I wouldna have lingered in town that night, trust me.”
“You would have come?”
“Ach, aye.” Jamie chuckled, extinguishing the anguish that had overcome Claire in the days following her failed date. “I wouldna have missed it for the world, mo nighean donn.”
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