A Wild Night in Vegas -- Part 18.3

Alrightie darlings! The final installment of chapter 18! Thanks for sticking with us! I’m pretty sure @outlandishchridhe and I had this part written before Fergus had even been born. It’s been sitting in our ‘written ideas’ doc for AGES and now we can FINALLY share it with you!! Buckle up because it’s a steamy one!

Catch up on 18.1 HERE and 18.2 HERE

Previously…

She let out a deep breath of relief and leaned against him. He put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her close, glad they’d talked this out.

“It’s so quiet,” she whispered, afraid to break the spell.

“It is,” he replied equally as soft. “I could give Murtagh a ring and get him back if ye miss the noise s’much,” he continued, laughing softly, knowing without looking that the look on his wife’s face would be one of disdain.

Her head lifted and she pulled his face so she could look through her lashes at him. She had the most beautiful eyes, like the depths of the ocean, mysterious and fathomless.

“Perhaps another time. I think I owe him a proper apology, but I’m enjoying our time alone.”

“Aye,” he said, hooking one finger under her chin, stopping her from laying her head back on his shoulder. “So am I.”

Her kiss was soft, gentle, and hungry. There was a hint of vegetables on her tongue, making him smile as he recognized the flavor of cucumbers. They hadn’t kissed like this in weeks, usually only a quick peck here and there while one of them tended the bairn.

But that bairn was asleep and there wasn’t another soul drifting around the apartment. They were as alone as they’d ever be and he planned to take advantage of it. By unspoken agreement, they moved further onto the bed, Claire laying down on her back as she pulled Jamie above her.

“If I recall,” he said, sliding his hand beneath her shirt. “You promised me anything I wanted if I got Murtagh to go and kept wee Fergus home.”

“I was hoping you’d forget about that.”

“No’ a chance,” he laughed huskily, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

Slowly, teasingly, he began kissing down her neck, tugging her sweats down with him.

“Really?” she asked, glancing at him with a quirked eyebrow. “That’s what you’re doing first?”

“Never heard ye complain about it before. And besides, I believe I ha’ a debt to repay if I’m no’ mistaken.” She smiled widely.

“Oh that’s not a complaint, I just thought-”

He didn’t need to hear what she thought. All he needed to hear was her wee squeaks and groans as he tasted her.

“Ye ken,” he said a moment later, pushing her thighs apart so he could breathe. “Some women shave or wax their honey pot?”

“How the hell would you know that?” she asked, chest heaving.

“I heard talk, from some of the women in the show, but also from the lads I used to work wi’.”

Forcing her eyes open, she looked down at him.

“And why, exactly, are you thinking about shaved honeypots right now?”

His tongue darted out and she flinched.

“Weel… It’s only I’m glad yers isna. I think it’s verra sexy to keep ye as natural as can be.”

“W-would you rather I s-stop shaving my legs too?”

Enjoying himself too much, he delayed answering for a little while.

“I think I’d leave that to you,” he said as he caught his breath. “I think you’re verra beautiful anyway, that would only make ye better.”

“You really want me to walk around with gorilla legs?!”

“I said,” he breathed the scent of her arousal deeply. “I’d leave it to you.”

He cut off whatever her next statement was by burying his face between her legs. She filled each of his senses until they nearly overloaded, but he didn’t stop until she was shaking.

“Jamie, please,” she begged. “I need you inside me.”

“Oh I’m no’ done yet. Just be patient, mo chridhe.”

She groaned and tried to roll onto her side, but he kept her pinned down.

“Oh, fuck me,” she complained.

“I promise I will. But it’s been some time since I made love to ye properly and I’m gonna take my time about it, aye?”

“You dirty Scottish bastard. You’re torturing me on purpose.”

Pulling himself up, he turned her face to his and kissed her deeply.

“Ye sound surprised, Sassenach.”

“I’m not. Not when I promised you anything, which I now regret.” She took a steadying breath. “Well… Maybe I’m a little surprised.”

He gave her a reproachful look and clicked his tongue at her.

“Thought ye kent me verra weel by now.”

He bit gently on the side of her neck while one hand moved slowly down her stomach.

“I do. Which is why I thought you’d want the back way with my ‘sweet round arse’ in the air.”

She’d tried to mimic his accent which only made her sound silly. He smiled into her neck, releasing the skin for a moment.

“I’ll work my way there. But how can I no’ worship the body that carried and delivered my son? My first born? How can I rush loving you when I’ve no’ been blessed wi’ the ability in so long?”

“My. God. You’re such a romantic! Where’s the crazed passionate knight I knew only a few months ago?”

“He’s waiting. Now hush, Sassenach. Can ye no’ see I’m busy?”

Returning to the faint red spot on her neck, he dipped his free hand between her legs. She was slick and sensitive from his attentions already and it didn’t take long for her to start whimpering. The way her moans got louder nearly drove him into a frenzy. But he’d meant it when he’d said he would take his time with her.

Watching as her face contorted in her pleasure, he captured her lips just before her cry released. One of her hands let go of the quilt she’d been gripping and instead took hold of his hair, pulling him harder against her. His scalp stung and he felt a few hairs pop free.

He could feel her heart thundering in her chest as he kissed the valley between her breasts. Sweat covered her pale body and he longed to taste every bit of it. Her hand shook as she combed her fingers through his hair.

“Are you… ever going to make love to me properly?” she asked, breathless.

Looking down at her, he gave her his best ‘you canna be serious’ face.

“Do ye really think, after all this, that my balls are’na aching something fierce? Or that my cock isna throbbing painfully?”

“If it’s so bad, darling,” she said too sweetly. “Perhaps you should do something about it.”

Both blue eyes glittered at him, filled with lust and longing.

“Perhaps,” he said, pulling her up with him as he got to his knees. “I just might.”

“Finally!” she moaned loudly, eyes raging with lust.

Arms tight around her, he kissed her for a long while. One of her arms wrapped around his neck while the other snuck between his legs and stroked him slowly. Before long, she had his hips rocking in time with her strokes and she smiled against his lips.

“Still throbbing?”

“No’ for long.”

Reaching down, he grabbed the backs of her thighs and pulled her legs around him, which forced her onto her back again. She was smiling and giggling up at him and he prepared himself to finally have her again. But then he stopped.

“Oh for Christ’s sake, Jamie!” she yelled when he hopped suddenly off the bed. “What the bloody hell is wrong with you?!”

“Safety first, my lady,” he said, digging in the nightstand drawer for a condom.

They hadn’t needed to use one for some time, with her being pregnant. But now that she’d given birth, they had to be careful again.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m no’ sure if you remember, Sassenach. But something happened that first time we had unprotected sex. I just canna seem to recall exactly what that was…”

“You’re a cruel man, James Fraser.”

Her glare intensified as he opened the foil wrapper slowly.

“I told ye I’d take my time.”

“And if you take your time any slower, I’m going to finish without you and make you watch.”

Rolling the condom on, he smirked at her.

“Perhaps another time, Sassenach. I think it would be interesting to watch ye pleasure yourself.”

“Interesting?”

“Aye. I ken my way round your honeypot pretty well by now, but I think I’d enjoy seeing what ye do wi’ it yourself.”

Eyes narrowing, she began to run her left hand down her body, her ring catching in the silver moonlight.

“Keep talking and you’ll find out.”

“I said another time,” he growled, crawling above her. “No’ now.”

Pushing her hand away, he nudged her legs apart and guided himself home. God almighty, he thought. If she was any hotter, she’d burn him on contact. A choked groan of pleasure escaped him at the same time as her sigh.

“Yes,” she said in a dreamy voice. “Much better.”

As much as his aching balls told him to ride her hard, he moved slowly instead. For one thing, he was still aware that his son was asleep only a few feet away. For another, he didn’t need Claire’s screams to wake the boy and force them to end early. Above all else, though, he didn’t want to hurt her. This was their first time after she’d delivered Fergus and he was aware it could sometimes be painful or uncomfortable. That had been the other part of him teasing her for so long. Claire thought he’d stopped reading the blog he’d found online, now that their son had been born. But he wanted to be able to care for her as best he could, so he’d continued reading and absorbing the information. Hopefully he’d done his job and it wouldn’t hurt her too much.

So he loved her slowly, tenderly. Her hips lifted to meet his in their gentle rocking. Each time he was fully inside her, he felt her relax a little more. The tension in her legs released little by little, her fingers stopped digging into his shoulder and buttocks. When her breath caught and she made a tiny sound, he thought he’d pushed too hard and hurt her.

“Are ye alright, a nighean?”

“Yes! Yes I’m alright.”

“I didna hurt ye?”

“No. No you didn’t hurt me one bit. Actually, I think you could move a little more now and I’ll be fine.”

He searched her eyes for a moment to be sure she wasn’t saying that for his sake. Deciding she was ready, he let his body rock a little harder. Still, he was careful to not let it go too far. The last thing he wanted was to damage her.

She’d been right, she was ready for it. As soon as he’d picked up his pace, she began to shudder and squeak the way she usually did. All his teasing earlier ensured this would not be a long night for either of them, but it would be enough. He pulled himself up just enough to watch her full breasts bounce in response to his thrusts.

Her eyes opened slowly and she met his gaze.

“I love you,” she said in a strong voice. “I love you.”

Fire erupted in his veins and he lost all sense of reality. Nothing in the world was more beautiful than those words coming from her lips. He collapsed down on top of her, still mindful that he didn’t crush her.

They lay with their heads nearly hanging off the foot of their bed, both breathing as heavily as if they’d just completed a marathon.

“I almost forgot how good you are at that,” she panted.

“What!? Ye forgot?!” he whisper-yelled with faux indignation.

“I said almost!”

Rolling his head to glare at her, he caught the twinkle in her eye as she fought to restrain her giggles.

“Clearly I canna be that good if ye forgot after a few weeks wi’out!”

“I said almost!”

“I’ll just have to take it upon myself to remind ye every opportunity I have. Make sure ye never come close to forgetting that again.”

Claire rolled onto her side, arm tucked beneath her head, and yawned.

“You’re a good man.”

The sound of Fergus’ fussing crackled through the baby monitor and Claire made to go pick him up.

“I’ll get the bairn. Rest now, mo graidh.”

Jamie hastily cleaned himself up and slipped back into his boxers before lifting his son out of the crib. Something they’d learned early on was how much little Fergus loved skin-to-skin contact. As soon as he felt his father’s warm skin on his cheek, he settled himself. Jamie eased himself back onto the bed, using the wall as support. Sleepily, Claire turned herself around and crawled up to rest her head against Jamie’s shoulder. He’d settled the lad in the middle of his chest, his tiny body moving with each breath they took.

“He really is a beautiful little boy,” she murmured.

“Aye. That he is, my Sassenach. That he is.”

Love this @takemeawaytocamelot    !!!!

Someone to Stay - AU

Previous chapters

Chapter 8

Her feet creaked on the landing, the wood protesting. She could hear something behind the door, and she was afraid to open it, but she followed an unknown pull that drew her hand to turn the knob.

The sounds were unmistakable. Their bodies writhed and a pillow tumbled to the floor. Warm, sugary-scented candlelight flickered over their faces. She’d seen enough—she turned and ran out of the room.

Her legs didn’t seem to want to obey her. Rushing down the stairs her feet caught on the carpeting and she tripped, falling, falling, falling…

Claire jerked awake, breathing hard. Beside her, Jamie stirred and flung his arm over her. She placed her hand over her heart, willing it to stop hammering.

“Are ye alright, Sassenach?” he asked sleepily.

“Yes. Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you. Bad dream.”

“Weel, no wonder, I took all the blankets. Ye’re cold as ice—that’ll give ye the nightmare. Come here.” Jamie bundled her under the quilt; his own body radiated heat and she curled up against him, her head on his shoulder. Her heart was slowing down, and she closed her eyes, hoping to reclaim sleep.

Jamie’s hand stroked her arm lazily, while pressing small kisses into her hair. Claire was lulled, warm, the fear of her dream fading fast. After a few minutes, Jamie spoke.

“I’ll need to get up soon. I promised Jenny I’d help with the chores to free her up to get some Christmas things ready.”

“What time is it?” Claire mumbled. 

“Um… about 5, I think.”

“Oh God. It’s still dark out. It’s too early. You can’t go out there now. Stay. Here. With me.” She clung to him tighter, unwilling to let him out of the bed.

“A promise is a promise, Sassenach.” He extricated himself gently, pausing to run his fingers through her curls. “I like it. Looks like the bramble bush outside.”

Claire swatted him feebly, too tired to really try. She burrowed deeper into the bed, and Jamie kissed her nose. He dressed in the light of the leftover embers while she watched, and wanted.

“I’ll bring ye coffee. You don’t have to come wi’ me, Claire. I ken it’s yer vacation and up early the rest of the time. I’ll go milk the goats and pitch hay for the coos, they’ll be sufferin’ fer it.”

“Coos?”

“Highland coos. Beautiful creatures.”

She peered over the quilt. “I’ve never seen one.”

“Dress warmly then. Ye’re about to meet the herd.” He turned to leave, but stopped. “Oh, and Sassenach?”

“Yes?”

“Merry Christmas.”

_______________________________________________________________________

The mountain air was icy but invigorating. Claire touched her cheeks, the wool mittens warm on her reddened skin. She pulled her scarf up higher around her face.

She and Jamie leaned against the fence, watching Jenny’s merino sheep baa and butt each other. It was only noon, but her body was exhausted; not only from their efforts last night, but from fetching and hauling and working alongside Jamie.

They stood quietly side by side, watching the animals’ antics. Their breath mingled in cloudy puffs, and Claire couldn’t remember when she had last been this happy.

He was in her like a livewire, after only weeks of knowing each other. It was too much, too soon, too fast. Too right. And her heart… the kiss in the alley had given it to Jamie irrevocably.

Claire took his hand in hers and clasped it tight. He smiled down at her, and sang, “Oh, the weather outside is frightful…”

She laughed. “It’s not so bad now.”

“There’s snow coming soon. We’re expecting the band fer Hogmanay. When are ye due back to work, mo nighean donn?”

“January third. And your recording sessions?”

“Few days after that. We can have some time in London.” He kissed her briefly and they started back to the house.

The ancient stones stood grey and silent as they approached. Claire could glimpse Jenny in the kitchen, preparing lunch for the family. At the door, Jamie stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“Claire, I have something for you,” he said. With a shy smile, he pulled a gold chain from his coat pocket. Dangling from it, was a gold ring with a ruby set in it. Jamie held it in front of Claire, the weight of the ring causing it to twirl. “It belonged to my da, and his da before him, on and on back. I usually wear it, but it can be a bit troublesome when playing guitar so… I’d left it here in Jenny’s care.”

Claire swallowed thickly, understanding the implications of his gift. This had belonged to his father; it was a tangible memory of family and belonging. By giving her this ring, Jamie made it clear he thought of her as part of him, intrinsic and bone-deep. She reached out to touch the gleaming stone, and smiled in acceptance.

Jamie undid the tiny clasp, the gold links of the chain delicate as filigree. He fastened it behind her neck, fingers lingering on her collarbones. Claire touched the ring, nestled against her sternum.

“Thank you,” she said softly, and he leaned in for a kiss. Then she came to a realization.

“Oh my God, I feel so bad, I didn’t get you anything! What with the shifts and all—”

“It doesna matter. I brought presents for the children, from both of us.” Jamie opened the door and removed his dirty boots before Jenny could protest. Claire imitated him, carefully removing her coat and layers. She was very much aware of the presence of the ring.

“Besides.” He turned and wrapped his arms around her waist, bringing her close enough for whispering.

“You gave me you.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Jamie’s acoustic guitar playing Christmas carols and traditional Scottish songs reverberated with the myriad of voices singing along and laughing riotously. Everyone was absolutely soused, the drams flowing and never-ending.

The rest of The Clan had arrived, Rupert and Willy and Murtagh, to stay and celebrate Hogmanay and welcome the New Year. Rupert had cornered Claire and would not stop talking about Geillis. Claire lent a sympathetic ear and on the whole, rather liked the match between them; from the way Rupert talked about her friend, she suspected they were more serious than she had originally thought—and was glad for them. Willy was there, shy as ever, but joining in the loud choruses and tossing back drink after drink.

Murtagh joined Claire on the sofa by the fire, offering her a tumbler of Macallan. They toasted Christmas and Jamie and the Frasers in general. If he noticed Brian Fraser’s ring on Claire, he said nothing, but regaled her with stories of Jamie as a child and teenager. Every word Murtagh spoke revealed the tenderness involved in practically raising a child not his own. Claire wondered why Murtagh was single—deceiving surliness notwithstanding—when he clearly had so much love to give.

Jenny, however, was not blind. Her eyes had zeroed in on the ring around Claire’s neck the moment they stepped inside the house into her presence. Her eyes had widened but she said nothing outright. As the evening progressed and everyone’s inhibitions lowered significantly, now she approached Claire and sat next to her.

“That was my da’s,” Jenny said quietly, sipping from her own glass.

“Yes, Jamie told me.” Claire felt uncomfortable for a moment – Brian had also been Jenny’s da. Perhaps— “Do you not approve? Would you like me to give it back? Maybe you should have it for your own sons—”

Jenny waved her off. “I have my mam’s pearls and other things, for my daughters as well. This is Jamie’s to give as he will.” She reached out and touched a finger gently to the ruby, warmth on her face and in her voice. “And let me tell you—he could not have chosen someone worthier.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Claire ground her hips against Jamie’s, one hand holding her steady above him. Firelight cast them into molten gold as each found their completion in the other’s body.

Jamie groaned as Claire rocked to find more friction, more heat, more of him. He kneaded her breasts, traced a finger down to her navel, and settled on the pulsing point of their union. Claire clenched around him, dissolving into a heap of spent limbs and curly hair. Their foreheads touched as Jamie took his pleasure, gasping into her ear.

“Tha gaol agam ort. An-còmhnaidh.” His hands gently traced patterns on her back as she lay spent on top of him, too lazy and sated to shift next to him. Her skin pebbled in goose bumps as she shivered in delight.

“You’ll have to teach me the Gaidhlig,” she said, smiling. She propped her hands under her chin, resting on his chest. “I think I can only translate about 5 words. Not fair.”

“I can teach ye, Sassenach.” Jamie pushed her hair behind her ears, cupping her cheeks in his hands. “Repeat after me. Tha gaol agam ort.”

“Tha gaol agam ort.” Claire did her best to imitate his accent.

“An-còmhnaidh.” Jamie caressed her face gently, tenderly.

“But what does it mean?” she insisted, pressing a kiss into the palm of his hand.

Jamie took a deep breath. “It means… I love ye. Always.”

Her breath caught in her throat. For a moment, she considered bolting. Rising from the bed, giving up the warmth and comfort of his body. Dressing fast in the demi-dark, leaving him behind. And her heart ached at the thought. So she allowed the brief wave of panic to wash over her, and let it go.

Jamie’s eyes were still on her, steadfast and unwavering. Claire met them bravely, whiskey and blue fire, and kissed his honey mouth.

“Tha gaol agam ort. Always.”

My my.

This was so beautifully written and so tender ..

Fic: The Soul that is lost

Latest Chapter in my Heartlines AU. The rest can be found here

As always I’d love to know what you think and am happy to take prompts for future chapters.

————————————————————

He’d dropped Claire at home on Tuesday morning on his way to work. He spent the rest of the week in meetings and then the latter half up at Lallybroch, overseeing some extension work and meeting with the other members of the Lallybroch board. He hadn’t foreseen quite what a behemoth of tourism and industry the sleepy little highland estate was to become when he’d first took the notion to move beyond simple agriculture.

As a result he didn’t see Claire for the rest of the week, though they exchanged at least a dozen text messages a day, ranging from the mundane through the very NSFW. After she’s sent him a fairly explicit picture of her in her underwear that flashed up on his phone in the middle of the shareholders meeting causing his sister, Jenny’s eyebrows vanish into her hairline, he’d taken to keeping his phone in his pocket rather than on the desk in front of him.

He was driving back into Glasgow on Friday afternoon and Claire was off work until Monday night when she started two weeks of night shifts. The plan was that she would come over Friday night and they would base themselves at his house for the weekend. Jamie was torn between not leaving the bedroom for the entire time and the desire to be out living life with this glorious, untamed woman, to get to know her better.

He’d been home about an hour and was frantically dusting his bookshelf when he heard a car door slam followed by the sound of his gate opening. Peeking out of the window he admired her as she came up the path. He was wearing shiny brown ankle boots and a cotton breton striped dress with big pockets in the skirt. Her dark hair was pulled into a messy bun at her nape. The thought of unpinning the mass of curls and watching it cascade around her face distracted him so much that he didn’t see her approach the window until she knocked on it. He jumped slightly and she laughed. She then leant forward and left a pink kiss on the window. His heart clenched at the casual intimacy of the act as he went to let her in.

He opened the door and stepped back to grant her access and as she walked in he couldn’t help but think about how she belonged here, here in his space. She fit into it as if she had always existed in it.

He looked at her as she bent and looked under the side table, before opening the coat closet door, peering in. She shut it again and popped her head around the living room door.

“Whatever are ye doin’, Sassenach?” he asked her as she slowly opened the door to the kitchen and looked in.

“Oh just checking that you haven’t gotten any ex wives stashed around the place ready to leap out on us” She laughed as she said this her eyes sparkling with mischief and humour. Jamie tried and failed to look affronted and laughed instead.

“You’ll no doubt be pleased to hear that my first job when I arrived at work on Tuesday was getting a locksmith in.”

“Does this also mean that the gnome is out of a job?” She arched her brow.

“Aye” he responded. “Wee Angus has been found unfit for duty. His role from here is merely decorative”

“Glad to hear it, as erm, exhilarating, as the our last encounter was, I’m in rush to bump into Geneva Fraser any time soon”

“Dunsany” He said.

“Pardon?”

“Her name is no’ Fraser. Its Dunsany. She never was a Fraser. Dinna be calling her that” He spoke with something more than simple irritation or the desire to correct her.

“I’m sorry, Jamie” she spoke softly. “I didn’t mean anything, I… I’m sorry. I didn’t meant to upset you.”

He let out a long sigh.

“Dinna fash, Claire. Its me that’s sorry. I shouldna be getting all cranky with you. It’s just Geneva and I were over so long ago. In fact we were never anything much to begin with, and now here she is getting in between me and you.”

He looked so distraught that Claire reached out and stroked his face.

“We don’t have to talk about her anymore if that’s what you want. She isn’t important.”

“She held me prisoner wi’ guilt for so long, Claire, “ he took Claire’s hand and looked at her imploringly, his blue eyes dark with emotion. “I felt guilty that I couldna make it work with her, I felt guilty that I was such a disappointment, I felt guilty that I’d married her when I knew deep down I didna really love her. I never really moved on myself because I didn’t feel I deserved to. And then I met you…”

He kissed her gently. “And then I met you and it was like someone had smashed the cage that held me. The moment I laid eyes on you. I wanted you, I wanted you in a way I’ve never wanted anyone else. In a way that I thought was just made up for books and songs.” He flushed slightly at the weight of his admission.

“But it’s real” Claire said softly.

“Aye,” he said. “Aye, it’s realer than I ever knew.”

They spent Saturday in the city. Claire took him to her favourite cafe for breakfast. “When you work the night shift as often as I do, you learn the best places.” They chatted over eggs and hot coffee. Jamie told Claire all about the work going on at Lallybroch.

“It sounds amazing.” She said, taking a gulp of her long black. “You know, all the years I’ve been living in Scotland, I’ve not made it to the Highlands at all. Frank used to go all the time, but it was always on some fact finding mission, so I always stayed behind.

Jamie looked appalled at this admission. ‘Well, that’s just no good, Sassenach. Next time you’ve more than a couple of days off together, I’ll take ye. We’ll have a few days in Inverness and then I’ll take ye to Lallybroch.” He paused. “That’s if you’d like to go. To see it, I mean. If you no feel like it would be too much pressure. We can just go to Inverness, if you prefer…” He trailed off. Claire reached over and put her hand on his. I would love to see Lallybroch, Jamie. It’s such a big part of who you are. How could I not want to see that for myself?” They sat in silence for a moment, fingers weaving together, Jamie massaging her palm slightly with his thumb.

“I might have a small favour to ask in return though” she said slowly.

“Oh, aye? And what would that be then?” He raised his eyebrow at her.

“Weeeel,” she said,  “My hospital is having a huge fundraising dinner and I’ve been basically ordered to attend. Would you come with me? As my date? It will probably be a dreadful stuffy affair, but it would certainly be a lot more enjoyable with a dashing highlander on my arm.” She winked at him playfully.

“If ye keep saying that part about the ‘dashing highlander’ I don’t doubt I can be persuaded. I’ll need to wear my kilt though, aye?

“Oh believe me, Jamie, I absolutely insist.”

On Sunday he took her to his favourite pub for Sunday lunch and beers. With more beer drunk than food consumed, they staggered back to Jamie’s around 6pm, collapsing onto the sofa.

Watching Netflix on a rainy Sunday evening with Claire snuggled up against him, Jamie wished he could stop time.  Everything about the weekend had been perfect. Better than perfect. He had never dreamed that passion and friendship could be so inextricably entwined. He wanted her, her couldn’t look at her without wanting to take her to his bed and pleasure her. But he also liked and respected her. He found her hilarious. She had an offbeat sense of humour and an acute sense of the ridiculous and a tendency to dissolve into giggles in inappropriate situations. She made him feel protective, like he could slay dragons or rescue her from tall towers, but at the same time she was one of the strongest and most capable people he’d ever met. She made him feel safe.

He brushed her hair away from her face and leant down to kiss her gently.

“Hmmm” she responded slightly sleepily. He kissed her again and she turned to fully face him. She held his face in her hands for a moment before moving to straddle him. He ran his hands up her back and felt her shiver. They kissed for a long time, arms wrapped tight around the other, no space between them. She pressed down her hips, seeking friction between them. He let out a low groan and pulled her down by her hips. She bit him gently on his bottom lip, before moving down, kissing his jaw and neck, pausing here and there to worry the skin with her teeth. He made a guttural sound in his throat as she moved back up biting at his earlobe.

He stood abruptly, his arms tight around her keeping her in place. She wrapped her legs around his hips and he moved to his knees and slowly lowered her to the floor. His thick red hair fell forward and she reached up and pushed it back, meeting his eyes with hers. She kissed him gently on his forehead, his nose, his chin, before meeting his lips. The kiss was soft and chaste, but infinitely tender. Jamie felt himself shudder as he attempted to hold himself in check. Not from his physical desire, but his desire, in that moment to tell her everything. Everything he thought and felt, every tender feeling held in check, every word of love he could not, should not, yet proclaim out loud. This woman was his soul. He knew this and he abdicated entirely. He lifted her gently in his arms at carried her to bed.

Reblog for later.

Someone to Stay - AU

Previous chapters

Chapter 7

The rolling green dominated the landscape. The Range Rover came to a halt in front of a sprawling stone house, somehow managing to look older than the hills it stood upon.

“Lallybroch.” Jamie swept his hand, encompassing the house and the land and seemingly everything around them.

Claire gazed out of the windshield, entranced by the ancient feel of the very stones. “This is not a manor house, Jamie. This is a castle.”

“Ach, no,” he said, ducking his head modestly. “Truly, ‘tis only a farm. There’s a broch, but it’s old and crumbling now. We can visit it later, if ye like.”

“What’s a broch?” Claire unbuckled her seat belt and stepped out of the car.

“A tower, of sorts. The auld lairds of Lallybroch would be called Lords Broch Tuarach, after the north-facing tower.” Jamie reached for their bags in the backseat and joined Claire, taking her hand as they approached the massive front door.

“A tower doesn’t really have a face, you know,” Claire teased.

“Weel, the door faces north. That’ll do.” Jamie smiled, and made to open the door.

“Shouldn’t we knock?” Claire felt nerves and trepidation, about to meet the famous Jenny and the rest of the Jamie’s family. She knew how much they all meant to him, and how big a step this was for them.

“’Tis my home. No need.” He stole a quick, soft kiss to quell her obvious nerves and then called out, “Hello the house!” He dumped the bags by the staircase. Claire stood next to him, taking in her surroundings.

Everything looked antique, but not in a museum-like way. Everything, from the furniture to the paneled walls, looked loved, cared for. Carved tables and tapestries mingled with a modern cordless phone and lamps. Uncle Lamb would have a field day, she thought.

Thundering footsteps broke into her reverie, and a tall gangly teenager came tumbling down the stairs. “Uncle Jamie!” In a blur, Jamie was rocked back in a fierce hug.

“Ian, lad!” Jamie squeezed and lifted the boy straight off the ground. They slapped each other on the back in a great show of affection before Jamie let him go, and slid an arm around Claire’s waist.

“Ian, this is Claire. Sassenach, this is Young Ian, my nephew and godson.”

“Nice to meet you,” Claire said sincerely. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Is that so?” Young Ian grinned easily. “Welcome!” He picked up their bags and shot up the stairs two at a time. “I’ll just put these in yer room! Mam’s in the kitchen!”

Jamie and Claire held hands as they walked down the hallway towards the kitchen. They were assailed by the aromas of fresh baked bread and something delicious and steamy bubbling away on a stove. Claire half expected it to be an ancient cast-iron affair, but it was quite modern, by the rest of Lallybroch’s standards.

Jenny’s back was to them as she washed dishes at the sink. Jamie put his finger to his lips and blinked at Claire. He tiptoed (as much as a man his size might) and prepared to scare Jenny by tickling her ribs. His hands reached out but were stopped by a sudden, “Don’t even think about it, James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser.”

Jenny craned her neck over her shoulder and gave them a wicked smile. “Hey there, little brother.” Her hands never stopped working, even as Jamie smiled abashedly and gave her a peck on the cheek. She turned off the water and wiped her hands on the apron she wore, engulfing Jamie in a warm embrace. “It’s been too long,” Jenny said, pushing back and smiling. She looked over his shoulder at Claire, who witnessed the encounter wistfully longing for family.

“And this is Claire, I presume.” Jenny stepped around Jamie, giving her a quick appraising glance—cordial, but guarded. Claire extended her hand, which was enveloped in Jenny’s cool grasp.

“It’s great to meet you. Jamie’s missed Lallybroch terribly, and all your children.”

Jenny’s eyebrows rose like dark wings. Her eyes had that slanted look identical to Jamie’s, resting on high cheekbones reminiscent of Viking royalty. “I’m sure he did. Weel, dinner is stew. ‘Tis something I can leave on the stove and no’ worry, since I’ve been tending the goats and sheep, and cooking for Hogmanay with Mrs. Crook.”

“She’s the housekeeper slash cook, but she’ll be off wi’ her own family for Christmas,” Jamie interjected.

“We can sit down to eat, now ye’re here.” Jenny squeezed Jamie’s hand and turned to the stove. “Young Ian, Jamie, Maggie, Kitty! Dinner! Come wash up!” She glanced at Jamie. “Could ye get Ian from the barn? He’s been tending to the hay now Rabbie’s gone home fer the holidays.”

There was a meowing at the kitchen door as Jamie approached it. He opened it to let a grey cat in, who pranced inside as though he owned Lallybroch. From the way Jenny bent down to coddle it, Claire suspected it might be the case.

“I see Adso of Melch is still alive, Jenny,” Jamie said, an eyebrow raised in amusement.

“He is.” Jenny stood and toed the cat away from the stove. “Ye wee fiend, get on wi’ ye.”

Adso stopped in the middle of the kitchen, as soon as it spotted Claire. Jenny looked appraisingly at the cat, as though almost willing the cat to respond in some way. Claire decided to follow Jenny’s example and squatted, staring into its green eyes.

The cat slowly walked over to her, sniffing about her knees. It purred softly; Adso located her hand and pressed against it, enticing Claire to rub its ears. She obliged, marveling at the soft fur and turned to Jamie, who smiled down at her. “He likes ye, Sassenach.”

Jenny let out a contained breath, and the first truly welcoming smile bloomed on her face. “Never mind my bonny cheetie. Go fetch Ian, if ye please. And shut the door, before we freeze. Claire, we’re so glad to have ye.”

_______________________________________________________________________  

“Let me get this straight. If Adso didn’t like me, Jenny wouldn’t either?”

“Adso is held in very high regard around here, Sassenach. He’s an excellent judge of character. He led Jenny onto a nanny who would steal from her purse and a drunken horse handler.”

They trudged up the stairs after bidding the family good night. Dinner had been superb, Jenny and Ian and their children all gathered at the table. The babble and laughter of a large family tugged at Claire’s heartstrings, making her long for one of her own. The children’s ages ranged from Jamie’s namesake at 18 who attended uni at Glasgow, and Young Ian at 14; the girls Maggie and Kitty who were 12 and 9 respectively. Ian (the elder) had presided over dinner in his role of father—a far cry from the rock star life he led on tour with The Clan.

“And what is that Melch in his name?” Claire took Jamie’s hand as he led her around the dark upstairs hallway.

“Our mam always had a cheetie. They were all named the same, after a German saint. Adso of Melch, Adso of Milk, ye ken,” Jamie said with a smile.

They walked up to a solid wooden door. Jamie pushed it open, to reveal a bright fire set in the grate, and both their bags in the room. Claire swallowed nervously and glanced at Jamie.

They hadn’t slept together thus far, though they had participated in some hot and heavy (emphasis on the hot) make out sessions at Claire’s and at Jamie’s flat. Hands roving, breath panting, Jamie had given her space and time to express what she wanted and when she wanted it. Young Ian had plainly made some assumptions of his own.

And why not? They were both consenting adults in a relationship and what they did (or didn’t do) in bed was entirely their own business. Space and time—the continuum of which was grinding to a halt, as there was nothing Claire wanted more right then and there than to feel Jamie’s arms around her and—

“Claire. I can sleep elsewhere.” Jamie squeezed her hand in reassurance. “Or on the floor if I can have the quilt. Ye don’t have to—”

Claire stopped his words with a kiss her hands tangled in the ruddy mess of his hair. His hands gripped her waist as he walked her back towards the bed, kicking the door shut behind them. They tumbled together onto the carved wooden bedstead, the frame creaking slightly.

“Won’t they hear?” Claire asked breathlessly.

“The walls are made of solid stone,” Jamie mumbled, his lips on her neck. “We can be as loud as we like.”

His hand crept under her sweater; higher and higher, until she could feel it caressing the underside of her breast. It was only then that she opened her eyes and met his own, whiskey and azure, everything bathed in the light of the slowly burning fire laid in the hearth.

Jamie’s hand stilled, and he brought his forehead to hers. “Claire, I want you so much I can scarcely breathe. Will ye have me?”

She almost didn’t recognize voice as her own, so high and gasping, “Yes. Yes, I’ll have you.” Permission granted, his hands were all over her body all at once. Skimming down her back, leaving tingling desire in their wake, gliding over her navel. Their clothes came off in a flurry of wool and jeans.

Slowly and reverently Jamie helped her shed her bra and underwear, his boxer briefs following suit. Completely exposed to each other, Jamie laid his hand on her bare hip, staring at her flush curves gilded by firelight.

“Ye are so beautiful, mo nighean donn.”  

Claire felt suddenly shy and made to cover herself, but Jamie stopped her. “No, Sassenach. I want to look at you.” Claire blushed but let him gaze, slowly growing bold enough to return it.

His body came closer to hers, with his own muted fiery glow. He kissed down her neck, licking here and there. His large hands, calloused from playing guitar, teased and nipped at her breasts. Claire’s hands drifted down his back, pressing and urging him ever closer.

As his touch strayed lower, his intentions became clear. Claire raised herself on her elbows, effectively dislodging Jamie’s head from her stomach. His eyes held a question even as they seared with want.

“Jamie… no one’s ever—I mean—” Her cheeks burned red as she gestured with meaning.

He smiled and stretched up to kiss her gently. “Do ye want me to?”

“I don’t know. Won’t it… will it—”

“Let me taste ye.” Jamie trailed fingers up her leg. “Tell me if I’m too rough, or tell me to stop altogether if ye wish.” He brushed his lips over her belly, eyes blazing up at her.

Claire surrendered, falling back on the pillows and putting her arm over her eyes. Her knees trembled as he settled between them, parting them open and his arms locked around her thighs. She felt a brief kiss (right there! she thought incoherently) before she was flooded with pleasure, his tongue working magic on her most secret of places. She gasped as Jamie anchored her body to the bed with his arms, desire shooting through her veins. There were sounds coming from her lips she had never made before. Fleetingly she thought of covering her mouth before the feeling climbed higher and higher until it broke over her, making her shudder in release.

“Oh Jamie…” Her hand traced his jawline, as he smiled at her and kissed the inside of her thigh. Jamie moved and rose over her, kissing her deeply. She could taste herself and found it arousing.

He ground his pelvis gently into hers, swallowing her moans as her legs wrapped around him. Claire could feel the length of him sliding against her, and she urged him to her, hands on the small of his back.

Jamie braced himself on his forearms, and aligned himself at her slippery cleft. With a final nod from Claire, he eased himself inside her, slowly but inexorably moving forward as she dug her fingers into his back. The sensation was intense as he withdrew and pushed inside, again and again. Jamie held Claire close, the hair on his chest tickling her as they panted and he groaned and she whimpered with pleasure.

Their bodies rocked together as though they had known each other for years, simply waiting for the chance to join. Claire lost herself in pure sensation; the weight of his body perfect on hers, the spicy scent of him mingling with the smokiness of the fire, the mixture of Gaelic and English words he poured into her ear as he thrust faster and faster.

Feeling surged as they both chased the illusive spark of completion. Jamie’s hand splayed on her hip, and hitched her leg higher along his body. Her back arched instinctively. As he shifted, he hit a spot deep within her from a new angle, and in a few quick motions Claire shattered, crying out against his shoulder.

Jamie followed soon after, the tension breaking free as every muscle quivered, his mouth a wide O of relief and wonder. Their eyes met, half-lidded with satisfaction. Claire smiled languidly, running her hands through Jamie’s red curls. He withdrew gently, kissing Claire over and over, his lips at the hollow of her neck where perspiration shone and her pulse raced.

The heady feeling gradually dissipated, and the winter chill stole back into the room, making Jamie and Claire shiver with something more than spent desire. Still smiling, they crawled beneath the covers; Jamie pulled Claire close to him, her back to his front as he settled behind her, his arm holding her tightly.

“Oh, Claire… tha gaol agam ort,” he breathed against her skin.

“What does that mean?” she asked drowsily.

“I’ll tell ye tomorrow,” he said, nuzzling the nape of her neck. “We have time. I want to show you the loch, and the village, and take ye on a tour of the farm. I think ye’ll like the wee beasties and…”

She drifted off to sleep, his voice murmuring in the dark, safe in the knowledge of love and safety in Jamie’s arms and in her heart.

Oh Jesus🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Well then *gulps*. 

Hot hot hot !

Escape:  the residency years

Warning:  This isn’t the happiest of chapters.

Special thanks to @joannclelia for her help. And to anon for the ending advice.

“What have ye for lunch then?”  

She turned the phone around to show him her tray.  Pasta, of course.  An orange.  Spinach salad.  Good.  Bottle of water.  Then, just on the edge of her tray…

“Claire.  What was that?”  

She flipped the phone back to her face.  “What was what, darling? You can see I have a very healthy lunch, and I’m sitting down, relaxing while I eat.  With Louise,” she turned the phone towards her companion, a pretty nurse with long brown hair.

“Right there!  Is that a brownie?”  He could hear her giggle, and say shhhh.

Her face was barely straight as she looked him.  “No.  That’s Louise’s, not mine.”

“Non, ce n’est pas le mien!” Jamie heard the indignant voice out of view. 

“Sassenach, I ken ye like the French pastries, but come on.  Ye had a pain au chocolat at breakfast, now this. Last night, some cake.  How about ye not give birth to a diabetic, eh?”  

Claire smiled, and blew him a kiss.  “No pudding at dinner tonight.  Promise.” 

Jamie nodded, pursed his lips, and blew a kiss back.  “Enjoy yer lunch.  I’ll speak wi’ ye later.  Take it easy, okay?”

“I will.” Claire said, as she waved at her screen.

“I love you, mo neighean donn.  Give the bairn a kiss from his Da.” 

“You mean her.”  Claire kissed her fingers and pressed them on her bump. “Love you, too, Jamie,” she said, and disconnected.

When it was time to go back, Claire gathered up her tray, and stood.  

She looked at her chair in confusion.  There was a large mark on her seat. What had she spilled?  

It wasn’t until she heard Louise’s gasp that she realized something was wrong. 

She felt the sticky wetness on her scrubs, but couldn’t really see past her belly.

A moment later she felt the rush of something between her legs.  She could smell the blood.  

Her tray dropped to the floor, bouncing off the end of the table on its way down, shattering everything.  

Far away someone was screaming.

It was her. 

“I just talked to her.  I just talked to her at lunch.  She was fine.  I just saw her.” Jamie kept repeating the same thing.  He sat in one of the chairs in front of her desk, tears in his eyes, bewildered, confused.  

Jenny catapulted into action.  She snapped a finger at her assistant, pointing. The woman already had the phone receiver in her hand.  “I need Ian, here, right now.  For Jamie.  Alec needs to bring the car around right away.  And get a private plane ready to leave for Paris immediately.  Charge the company.”  

“You,” she pointed at Willie, “come with me.”  Willie, who had shown up with Jamie, was pale and panicked.  He stepped into line with her as she strode down the hall.  “We need Jamie’s passport, and -”

“Oh! I have it.  All of Jamie’s travel documents are in his office.” Willie was glad he had that, at least. 

“Good.  Now, gather all that up and, listen carefully, ye need to get his art supplies.”  Jenny stopped, and put a hand on Willie’s arm.  “He draws when he’s stressed.  He’ll need the distraction.  Get it all together and give it to Ian.” She pushed him forward, “Now go!”

Willie streaked off to do her bidding.

Jenny had Alec drive at break neck speed to Jamie and Claire’s flat.   She threw what she could into a bag, jeans, tee shirts, a few socks, trainers, jacket. She threw some things in for Claire as well.  Soft sleep pants and a softer sweater.  Toiletries.  Where the hell was his underwear!?!  She opened a top drawer and rummaged around.  

The small gold object caught her eye.  She hadn’t seen it in years. Instinctively, she grabbed it, and slamming the drawer shut, turned to go.  She was in and out of the flat in 15 minutes.  

Ian and Jamie were waiting inside the small terminal when she got there.  Her brother was turning his phone over and over in his large hands.  She put the bag next to his feet in silence.    

When the flight was ready, Jenny walked Jamie to the steps.  Ian handed the steward the bag.    

“Jenny, I-“

“Shhhh, brother.”  She grabbed Jamie around his shoulders and hugged him tight.  His arms gripped her as he buried his face in her neck.  God, he was burrowing in like Wee Jamie after he’s fallen off his bike. She had no words for him.  She would not lie and tell him it would be all right.  Lord only knew what was happening in France.  “Give Claire a hug for me, and tell her I love her.” Jamie nodded against her neck.  She turned quickly and gave him a kiss on his temple.  

Grabbing his hand, she pressed the small oval piece into his palm.  “I found this.  Take it.  Let it give ye strength.”  

Jamie looked at it, eyes wide.

“Go on,” Jenny said.  “Call me as soon as you know something.”

Jamie let go, wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and nodded, looking at the tarmac the whole time.  

He turned towards the plane, but found himself in a hard embrace.  Ian gripped his brother-in-law, and friend tightly.  No words were exchanged. Whatever one needed, the other would give.  They had been through too much together, their bond understood.  Ian was the one person who knew exactly what Jamie was thinking and feeling.  

How life could change in the blink of an eye.

How you could be whole, and happy, feeling right with the world, and then have your heart and mind shattered like the cracks in a windshield after a crash, spreading out in front of you until you can’t see anything of the world at all. Just fragments.  Fractures.  Shattered pieces.  Or worse yet, missing.  

Jamie sat alone on the plane looking out of the window as Scotland disappeared below him.  He still had the token from Jenny in his hand.  He closed his fist around it, hard, and looked out at the clouds surrounding him. He raised his eyes higher, heavenward.  Lord that she may be safe. She and the child.  

It was all over when he arrived.  

He was ushered to a waiting room, and made to sit by himself.  Finally, a small toad-like man entered, and introduced himself as Dr. Raymond.  His first thought was, Claire said ye looked like a frog.  She wasna wrong.  Jamie’s mouth lifted in half a smile as he stood to extend his hand to the doctor.  

Raymond explained that Claire was currently receiving some units of blood to replace what she’d lost.  Once assured Claire would be fine, Jamie had asked about his child.  

The wee man barely came up to the centre of Jamie’s chest, yet his words had the power to knock him backwards, stumbling into a chair.   

His child was mort-nè.  

Still born.  

Jamie felt fragile, paper thin, like velum, that if he moved too fast or spoke to loudly he would tear in half.   

“Your wife suffered a placental abruption.  This is when the placental lining separates from the uterus.  Sometimes the mother does not feel anything, and sometimes she feels, maybe, some pain in the back.  Unfortunately, the infant was not receiving enough oxygen in utero, so….” The doctor paused, then said in his heavy French accent, “I am sorry for your loss, Monsieur.”

Jamie nodded, and swallowed.  His emotions were so raw, he found himself unable to speak.  His thoughts were a tangle, like a net cast out to sea and caught on a rocky shore.  Fear wrapped itself around his gut, making him wonder if this was, somehow, his fault.  

“Can I ask ye a question?” Jamie said.

Dr. Raymond blinked slowly, and nodded once.    

“Is this my fault?  Should I – “ Jamie stopped.  It was difficult to talk of personal things, private things.  

He thought back to the night before she left, how he drove into his wife, hard and fast, angry that she was leaving, desperate to have her knowing he would miss her, with fear in his veins over their impending separation. More like making a point, than making love. He would rather die than to have been the one to cause the tear.

He gathered his courage, began again.  “The last time, when I had, well, sex with my wife…should I have been gentler?  Maybe….maybe been more considerate of her…of her….condition?”  

The physician simply shook his head, and said quite bluntly, “No, Monsieur. That is not the cause.  You are a fine husband.  It is not possible.”  

Absolved of his sin, Jamie sat back in the chair and exhaled.

But that didn’t absolve Claire.  Jamie took a deep breath, then said what was on his mind next, a thought that was eating at him like a corrosive.  

“I never wanted her to come, ye see.  She…Claire…she doesna do things in half measure, ye ken.  I worried she’d overdo.  So.”  He looked Dr. Raymond straight in the eye, and asked, “Did she?  Did she do too much?  On her feet all hours?  Not stopping, or getting proper rest?” 

Jamie rubbed his hands together, trying to warm them.  He felt ice cold to the marrow of his bones.  “Tell me she rested.  Tell me she took care, that this wasna her fault, either,” he whispered, ashamed, “because I don’t…I don’t want to hate my wife.”  

Dr. Raymond looked at this red man.  The aura around him.  He would fight to the death for the things he loved.  Raymond understood he was fighting now. Fighting for the love that was being consumed by his fear.

“Monsieur Fraser, I can tell you that many times the cause is unknown. Sometimes the placenta does not attach in a place that provides adequate support, and it may not develop appropriately, or it may separate as it grows.” The little man leaned forward in an effort to reassure Jamie, “I can tell you that Dr. Fraser was not reckless or foolish.  Anyone could see that the child in her womb came first.”

The door opened then, and the young nurse he’d seen from Claire’s video called for the doctor. He couldn’t follow all of her rapid French, but when Dr. Raymond jumped up, Jamie instinctively followed.  

He stepped inside the room.  Claire’s room.  A Dhia, she looked so pale.  She was as stark a white as the hospital linens, the dark of her hair like an ink blot on the pillow.  Her arm thin, slack, even though the deep red liquid flowing through the tube in her arm was promising life.  

He understood a few words.  Fever.  Infection.  

Jamie watched in shock as the little man laid his hands on Claire.  Her shoulders, her arms.  Murmuring in French the entire time.  He sent the nurse for another drip, and she scurried out of the room hardly sparing Jamie a glance.  He flinched as the doctor ran his hands over Claire’s breasts, and down her torso, lightly but touching her all the same.  The healer then placed his hands over his wife’s womb, and Claire writhed in pain.  

More blood.  Jesus, God, how could there be so much blood.

And then, his name.

Ripped from Claire.  In pain.  In desperation.  Like a magnet, it drew him.  It was strange, how his name dragged from her remaining strength reverberated in his soul.  He took a step towards her before he’d realized he’d moved, and found himself stopped with a vise grip on his arm.  He turned to find a large woman, Hildegard according to the name tag, telling him, “Vous devez partir, Monsieur.”

When she woke up she was a bit disoriented.  Memory surfaced.  Grief washed over her like a tidal wave.  For a moment she could not breathe.  

Turning her head she saw her 6’4” husband folded into a tiny chair beside her bed.  She had no memory of his arrival. 

He was sketching.  He looked tired, wan, pale.  His eyes darting over his drawing as his big hand moved in strong sure strokes.  

“Do you hate me for it, Jamie?” she whispered, wanting to know.  Her biggest fear, that Jamie would blame her.  What was more pain?  Better to roll it all into one great big ball of grief, and deal with it.

He jumped.  “Didna realize ye were awake, Sassenach.”  Jamie set down his computer.  

Claire relaxed at the use of her nickname.  

“Jamie, I’m so sorry.  So very, very sorry.  I put myself before our family.  This is all my fault.”  

“Shhh, mo neighean donn.  Yer a doctor, ye ken well it’s no’ yer fault.”  Jamie moved his chair closer to her bed, and took one small, weak, long-fingered hand in his two large ones. Tears slipped from her eyes at his gentleness.  

Jamie didn’t have any words.  There was nothing to say.   He couldn’t fix what happened.  He couldn’t change the loss.  He could just share it.  

They sat like that for some time.  Glancing at each other.  Letting their hands speak for them, thumbs stroking, fingers squeezing, softly rubbing.  Jamie’s thumb touched her ring from time to time.  

Finally, Claire spoke.  “I want to see her.”

“My wife,” Jamie stopped.  Cleared his throat.  “My wife wants to see our child.” He stood in front of the nurses’ station, hands clenched into balls at his side, standing as tall as he could.

“Ce n’est pas possible, Monsieur,” said Nurse Hildegarde.  It wasn’t the answer Jamie wanted.  He had been powerless to this point.  This, however, he would control.  

“I didna ask yer permission.  I didna say can she, I said she wants to.  So she doesna have to imagine.”  He willed himself not to raise his voice, to keep his anger in check.  

The young nurse, Louise, looked up at him.  She looked at her superior. Stand-offs like this were rare.  Usually no one questioned Nurse Hildegard. Everyone stopped to look at the large, grieving, red haired man.  Nurse Hildegarde opened her mouth to speak again, but caught sight of the little practitioner behind Monsieur Fraser.

“Soeur Hildegard. Presénter l’enfant à Dr. et M. Fraser.  Vous avez ma permission.”   

Claire was sitting up in bed when he entered the room.  The bundle in his arms was so tiny.  A pink blanket.   As he came nearer she could see the tiny face peeking through.  Sleeping.  No, Claire remembered, not sleeping.  

“Her hair,” Jamie said, smiling sadly, “she’s got my hair.”

Claire raised her arms for the baby, and Jamie gently handed her their child as if handling fragile glass.  There was that awkward bobble of a new dad not sure what he’s doing to a new mom too eager to hold her baby.  They both chuckled at that.  Jamie sat on the edge of the bed, his arm around his wife, the other under her arms that held the baby.  They stayed like that, silently, as Claire unwrapped parts of their bairn, counting ten fingers, and ten toes. Stroking the luminescent skin.  She chuckled at the tiny ears, which stuck out a bit, like Jamie’s.  He nudged her in understanding, chuffed.  So beautiful.

And then Claire began to sing.

When Nurse Louise came in an hour later she was moved by the tableau before her.  Her friend, Claire, rocking slowly, humming.  Jamie, her husband, sitting stoic beside her.  Neither taking their eyes from their child.  

She approached the bed. 

“Ma Cher, Claire.  Il est temps.”

When Louise left the room closing the door behind her, Claire thoroughly and completely went to pieces.  

Jamie held his wife across his lap.  

And did the same.

Sitting on the private plane to go home Claire looked out the window at the terminal traffic.  Everyone so busy, oblivious to the people they were shuttling on to planes, the bags they were loading, the lives they were moving along. Jamie sat beside her, holding her hand.  They spoke little.  She still couldn’t believe they were alone on this plane.  Jamie insisted.  He said he’d had enough of strangers.  

“I don’t want to forget her face,” Claire whispered, head back, curls pressed against the head rest.  “I’m afraid I’ll forget her face.”

Jamie let go of her hand.  “I ken it may be strange.  I’m sorry if it bothers ye. But I had to,” he said, quietly, apologetically.  He fumbled in his pocket.  “For Jenny.  For my sister.  She would want to see, ye ken.  She’s all I’ve got for family, other than you, Claire.”

There, on his phone screen, looking as if she was sleeping peacefully, was Faith Elizabeth Fraser. 

One year later

They walked slowly through the cemetery.  Jamie’s hands deep in his pockets, as he did when he was nervous.  Claire’s arms were crossed in front of her, as she did when she was nervous, a bouquet of tulips gripped in her hand.  They walked as if they really didn’t want to arrive at their destination, lost in their own thoughts, steps hesitant.  

It was the first time they would visit her grave.  One year to the day when she passed.  

“She should be over here.”  Jamie hung back and let Claire step up first. Claire’s gasp was audible from where he stood.  She dropped to her knees, and laid a hand reverently on the stone.  A stone.  She hadn’t expected a stone.  They hadn’t ordered one.  She expected a simple marker, not this beautiful, pale pink granite slab. 

Jamie crouched beside her.  He cleared his throat.  “A Da can only give what he can to his bairn.  I’m an artist.  So.  I gave her a resting place, wit’ her name and our names, and placed her in the care of her grandparents.  Yers and mine.”  He brushed a leaf off the corner of the stone.  “And I left a bit of Scotland wi’ her.”

She traced the tiny gold medal imbeded in the stone under Faith’s name. “What is this?”

“It’s St. Andrew,” Jamie said.  “My father used to carry the medal around in his pocket. It would remind him to pray, to ask for intercession when he needed it. It became mine.  Jenny gave it to me when I left for France.  When I ordered the stone I gave it to them, along with the design.”  

They stayed for a long time, holding hands, lost in their own thoughts.   Jamie stood, and pulled his wife to her feet.  Wrapping his arms around her shoulders he buried his face in her sweet smelling curls.  The sun shone warm on their faces, as Jamie swayed from side to side.

“So.  Now would be a good time to tell me something, Claire Fraser,” he said, next to her ear.  “Anything ye like.”  

Claire butted backwards and hit her husband in the crotch.  He let out a soft “oof” and laughed.

“I have nothing to say, James Fraser,” she said, in her haughtiest tone.   

“Hmpf,” Jamie made a Scottish noise, and turned Claire around to face him. “Yer sure, then?”  

Claire stood on tiptoes and kissed her husband full on the lips. “Five days is not a long time, you know that.”

“Aye, but yer never late.”  He grinned at her.  “It’s fine, Sassenach.  I’ll wait. Besides,” he said softly, “I have you.  And faith.”  

Beautiful !!!!!

Fic: The key in the garden

Part 5 of my Heartlines AU

All other parts can be found here

As always I’d love to know what you think.

——————————————————————————-

Jamie awoke with the sun shining in where he had failed to draw the curtains the previous night. He felt mildly hungover but elated. Last night with Claire had been wonderful. And she’d agreed to see him again. He had butterflies in his stomach at the thought of seeing her again, of holding her in his arms, of kissing her. He dare not consider more. She had been not only willing, but eager to take him to her bed last night, but they’d both had a lot to drink. He shivered slightly at the thought of having her here, lying next to him, touching him, under him. He shook his head to try and clear it and winced slightly at the whiskey headache. He leaned over to grab his phone. Thirty eight missed calls. He sighed. He checked them, but he knew who they were from. Geneva. It had been a while since the last batch of calls and he had hoped that she had finally stopped. In the past, driven by guilt he would answer her calls, or call her back. He would apologise over and over again for the fact he couldn’t be what she wanted him to be. The fact she had wasted so many years waiting for him, for him to walk out on her after only six months. She would yell abuse at him or sob and beg him to reconsider. It had been nearly 5 years since he left. They had been divorced for three. For the first time he considered his responsibility to Geneva and realised that he had none. She was a grown woman in a relationship with another man. He was a grown man. And he was in love with someone else. If they were to move on he needed to stop feeling so guilty. Sever things more cleanly. He considered what Claire had told him about her ex husband. How she had found a clean break and helped her move on more quickly. That after the initial tears and recriminations, she had simply walked away and had nothing more to do with him. Maybe it was time that he did the same. He cleared the calls and rose to meet the day.

He arrived at her door at 7pm sharp and by the speed that Claire answered his knock it was clear that she had been stood behind it waiting.  She looked wonderful. Her dark curls were loosely pinned on top of her head so that her face was dominated by those mesmerising golden eyes, and she was wearing a navy blue dress which cut low at the front revealing just a hint of cleavage and her delicate collar bones. He had to fight the urge to kiss her there. Instead though, she stood on tiptoes and pressed her lips very gently to his.

“And hello to you too, Sassenach” he replied slightly breathlessly. He wondered vaguely if Claire was a witch, so strong and so powerful was his attraction to her. So fast and hard had he fallen. Seeing the hectic colour in her cheeks and the glint in her eye when she looked at him, he had an inkling that his feelings might well be reciprocated and his stomach flipped slightly, the butterflies once again waking up.

They chatted idly and companionably on the drive to Jamie’s. He told her about his day and his meeting with a potential partner in order to expand the brewery business, she told him about her friend Geilis’ latest boyfriend drama and how he had burst into the hospital in the middle of the shift and declared his undying love only for Geilis to tell him to bugger off as she had a bowel to resect and that was quite enough shit for one day.

They pulled up outside Jamie’s house on a quiet street outside of the city centre. Claire admired his little garden and laughed at his gnome.

“His name is Angus” He told her seriously. She raised an eyebrow at him. “He was a gift from wee Jamie, my sister’s eldest, when I moved in. He’s had pride of place ever since. Plus he guards my spare key” Jamie winked largely at this last statement and Claire laughed and his heart lifted at the sound. Opening the door he pulled her into the house behind him and feeling reckless and light drew her to him in a kiss. The kiss went on a while and Claire’s hands had found their way under his shirt. He kissed his way along her jaw and down her neck the sound of her little gasp which turned into a moan going straight to his groin. He lifted her slightly from the ground as he returned to her mouth and she surprised him by wrapping her legs around his waist. He turned and sat her on the side table, the bowl where he kept his keys falling to the ground in the process. He was dimly aware that if he didn’t get a grip he might well end up having her on the the highly unsuitable surface of his Ikea Fjallbo sideboard. She had him pulled tight to her and he thrust his hips towards her instinctively. Her other hand moved to the back of his neck, pulling him closer and he moaned into her mouth. His hand moved slowly up her thigh, ruching the fabric of her dress as it went. Her skin felt so soft and smooth and her wanted nothing more than to kiss the expanse of creamy white, lily soft skin.

Claire had moved her attention the buttons on his shirt now and had already undone half of them.

“Jamie” she sighed, her lips moving now, kissing, sucking and nipping his neck. He growled in the back of his throat, barely mastering the urge to yank her from the sideboard,  throw her to the ground and have her on one of Jenny’s good turkey carpets. Claire had his shirt fully undone and was slipping it down over his shoulders. What little sense of propriety still remained to him was quickly being worn down as Claire took his nipple between her teeth.

“Jesus God, Claire,  I want ye so bad” He had her lifted again and contemplated carrying her into the living room which at least had a sofa and was less draughty than the hall way.

He pushed open the door and came to an abrupt halt as the figure of his ex wife turned to face him.

‘Nooooooooooooooooooo……’

😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱

Here comes trouble !

Fic: Kisses on the door step

Part 4 of Heartlines AU

Part 1 - Whiskey on a pink dress

Part 2 - Breathing in the half light

Part 3 - Walking in the deep blue night

———————————————————————————

She had him pinned against the door. Considering her size she was startlingly strong. She was on her tiptoes, one hand tangled in his hair, her other  had a very solid grip on his arse. His own hands were tangled in her her soft brown hair. They kissed with fervour and she relinquished the grip on his backside to have another attempt at getting the key in the lock. This time she was successful and the front door swung open with the force of their combined weight upon it, depositing them very messily on the hall floor.  Giggling they attempted to untangle themselves from the other.

“Well, Sassenach, you know how to make a fella feel welcome” He staggered to his feet and extended a hand to help her up. She swayed slightly and he caught her by the elbow.

“Mi casa es su casa” she waved an arm airily, and drunkenly around the hall way. She dragged him down the hall and into the living room. She walked over to a trolley and poured them a very intemperate measure of excellent single malt.

“I reckon you’re worth the good stuff” she smiled at him, holding the glass out to him. He took it and raised it to her. She looked a little worse for wear. Her hair was a riot around her head, no doubt from him having his hands in it, her face was flushed with a combination of whiskey and desire. He suspected he might be in very much the same state. He felt like a teenager. Excited and a little bit afraid. He had never felt this way and to be hit at thirty eight years of age with such a cri de coeur, his heart and soul reaching for another with such intensity, it made his blood pound and his breath catch in his chest.

They stood in the center of the room, glasses in hand. Her eyes never left his. As if drawn like magnets they both closed the gap between them. He took her glass from her and set both on the sideboard. He drew her to him and kissed her again. Whilst it lacked the bruising force of their kisses at the front door, he sought to convey exactly how he felt through it. It was too soon for words, for declarations, but his actions could say what he could not speak out loud. It went on for a long time. His hands were on her face and he gently stroked her cheeks with his thumb as he kissed her. Claire, in turn, melted into him, one hand warm on the back of his neck whilst the other moved softly through his hair. They broke apart and they stood, foreheads pressed together, eyes closed breathing each other in. Her hair smelt of of something vaguely citrusy, and he caught the scent of her perfume, a light, fresh scent.

“Mo Nighean donn” he murmured, running his hands through her hair. She leaned back slightly and cocked an eyebrow questioningly.

“It means my brown haired lass” he said this with such reverence that her color heightened.

“Will you stay, Jamie?”

Her words seared through him, the thought of staying the night, of being in her bed. God, he wanted to her. He wanted to sweep her off of her feet and carry her up the stairs and lay her down and worship her. He wanted to feel her soft skin against him as he made love to her. He wanted to hear her cry and sigh and moan his name. But it was too soon. Had they not had so much to drink it might be different, but he was drunk enough to botch it and she was drunk enough to regret it. When he had her first he wanted to be present, physically and emotionally. And he wanted her to be too.

He took a step back and stroked her face.

“I dinna think that’s wise, Mo Nighean Donn. We’ve had a lot of whiskey aye?”

She looked hurt. “Oh, oh, I see” Jamie could see she plainly didn’t.

“Sassenach. Claire, I want you more than I ever knew it was possible to want another person. I want ye so much I can scarcely breath. And I want to know you feel the same way. When the time comes, I want to know it’s no just because ye’ve had too much whiskey.” He lifted her chin so that their eyes met.  She nodded shakily and he kissed her again.

“Will you have dinner with me tomorrow, Claire? I ken it’s not much space but.. “

“Yes, yes, I’ll have dinner with you, Jamie” she answered before he could finish.

“Will you come to my house? Or would you rather go to a restaurant?”

“It depends” she retorted starting to recover her humour “can you cook?”

He laughed. “I’ll have you know I am an excellent cook. My mother made sure of it”

“Well in that case, I’d be delighted to sample your culinary talents”

She walked him to the door where they kissed again and he very nearly took back his earlier decision not to take her to bed. This was woman was more intoxicating than the whiskey.

The kiss broke and she gave him a gentle shove.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Jamie.”

He wasn’t sure why, but he turned and gave her a little bow before blowing her a kiss and walking out into the cool, damp night.

Love this @awesomeeyeroll  !

Each new chapter is just wonderful !

Fic: Whiskey on a Pink Dress

Part 1 of my new Modern AU series, Heartlines.

As always let me know what you think.

————————————————————————————————

“I am too old for this”

This thought had run through his head about a hundred times since they’d arrived at the club and it didn’t get any less true the more he thought it. He hated nightclubs. He hadn’t been a huge fan of them in his teens and twenties but at least he’d seen the point of them then. Drinks with your mates, a bit of bad dancing, flirting with some girls. But he was in his late thirties now and here he was again. His mates had insisted that he needed to have a ‘proper night out’.

“You’ll no meet any lassies down the local, Jamie lad” had been his cousin Rupert’s rationale.

“Ya’ll have been divorced now for nearly three years, and no a sniff of a woman around you since then. It’s no natural” had been his friend Angus’ contribution. Eventually, the sheer grind of trying to deflect them from their plans, as they conscripted an ever increasing circle of Jamie’s friends and family into the mission, had worn him down. A phone call from his sister Jenny, had been the final assault.

“Come on now, brother. You can’t be living your life all alone. You’re only 38, there’s still time for a relationship, a family. I know you want these things. You’ve always wanted them. Sure, you’ll never admit it, but we both know it’s the only reason you married Geneva in the first place. You’d been together for years and you felt like it was what you should be doing. She was just the wrong woman to be doing it with.”

“You could have said this to me at the time” came his sullen reply. There was nothing like a mild rebuke from his big sister to bring out the bolshy teenager in him.

“Aye” was the measured response, “I could have. But you’d no have thanked me and you’d even less have listened to me. You’re a grown man and your mistakes are your own to make. My job is to be here for ya when you’ve made them.”

Slightly shamed by this exchange and by his sister’s clear concern for the near monk like existence he had lived since his divorce, after only two years of marriage, he had text Rupert and told him to make some plans for the following Saturday.

And now here he was. In hell. Assuming of course hell played terrible electronic dance music, served watery, slightly warm lager and was inhabited by rowdy twentysomethings in varying states of inebriation. Several women had thrown some very hot looks in his direction and two had approached him when he went to the bar and later as he weaved his way through the masses towards the washroom. But they just weren’t of interest to him. The were lovely girls, no doubt, fresh faced and youthful, beautiful for sure. But they did nothing for him. He didn’t know what he was looking for in a woman, or if indeed he was looking for anything at all, but he simply knew that they were not it.

He was on yet another foray to the bar. He’d volunteered to go simply to get away from the constant pressure of his friends urging him to talk to this woman and that. To buy that one a drink, the being nudged in the ribs every five minutes as Rupert, Angus and even the usually more reticent Murtagh and Willy tried to persuade him to make his move.He checked his watch wondering if it was late enough for him to make his excuses and leave. 11.30. He rolled his eyes and contemplating an escape attempt. He wondered if the windows of the bathroom were adequate to accommodate his massive frame. As he looked up from his watch his made contact with something. Someone.

“Oh sorry” he said automatically before looking to see who he had made contact with. As slender brunette stood in front of him, dabbing what appeared to be whiskey from the front of her pink dress with a napkin.

“Oh lass, I am sorry” he repeated with more meaning this time. The woman looked up from her ministrations and smiled at him with humour in her eyes.

“No harm done, the whiskey they serve in this place is only fit for spilling anyhow”

He got a proper look at her then. She was beautiful. She had clouds of curly dark hair that were cascading arounding her face and shoulders and her eyes… He couldn’t quite make out their colour under the neon lights of the club but there was something about them that spoke to him. A warmth, a humour and something else too. Something that made his stomach flip over slightly as he looked at her.

“Are you ok?” she asked him and he realised he had been staring. Possibly open mouthed. He visibly pulled himself together and she laughed.

“My name is Claire” she smiled at him and held out her hand.

“Jamie” he took her hand. It was warm and soft and he very much regretted having to release it.

“So what brings you here” He cringed inwardly as he spoke. Was that the best he could come up with?  It was only one rung up from “What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?”

She hadn’t seemed to notice the cheesy line though.

“Oh, it’s Mary’s birthday. One of my friends from work. She’s only 24, hence the choice of venue” She indicated the club with a wave of her arm.

“And you? Are you a regular here at ‘Altered Images, Glasgow’s premier night spot!’?” She made heavy air quotes with her fingers as she made the last statement, mocking the club’s tagline and the irony contained within it.

“Ah, err, no” He stuttered a bit. How was he going to explain why he was here? “Umm, lads night out you know. Change of scene from the local”

Claire raised her brows at him skeptically, whilst clearly trying to rein in a laugh.

“Can I buy you another drink? Since I’m the reason yer wearing that one?”

She laughed. “Honestly, I think you might have done me a favour. From the smell of it I might have gone blind had I actually drunk it.”

There was a pause.

“Well anyway, I best get back to my friends. I plan on making good my escape at the earliest opportunity and the only way I’m going to be allowed to do that is if I throw some serious shapes on that dance floor before hand” She vogued a little to illustrate her point and they both laughed. A curl tumbled forward and flopped over her eye. Unthinkingly, Jamie reached forward and tucked it gently behind her ear. Her eyes widened and he pulled back as if he’s been slapped.

“Oh God, Claire. I’m so sorry. I shouldna be touching you like that. You dinna know me. I don’t know what came over me. I’m so sorry…”

She cut off his apologies my reaching forward and very gently running a finger down the side of his cheek. He felt like all air had been sucked out of the room at the feeling of her hand on his skin. He tried to make out her expression, but the flashing lights made it impossible to

“There,” she said with a slight shrug. “I guess now we’re even.” A beat. “ And I probably won’t have karate chop you in the throat for being forward.”

The looked at each other for a moment before she reached down and began rummaging in her bag. Retrieving something, she grabbed his arm and pushing up the sleeve of his shirt turned her wrist towards him. Before he fully realised what was happening she had written a telephone number, hers he supposed, on the inside of his wrist. There was something so intimate about that it sent a small shiver down his spine.

“Why don’t you call me sometime? It was lovely to meet you Jamie”

And with that she was gone, pushing her way through the throngs of Saturday night revellers in the direction of the dance floor. He stood staring after her for a moment.

Turning he headed back towards where he’d left the lads. As he approached he discovered the booth was now not only filled with his friends but also a gang of about 6 women.  Veering away at the last moment, he turned towards the entrance, opening the uber app on his phone as he went. Just before he reached the door he turned back, scanning the dance floor for a glimpse of her before he left. And there she was. Arms waving, hair wild, laughing and singing along to the song. She was so lovely. Like a force of nature He glanced down at his wrist where she had written her number. Maybe this night out hadn’t been such a terrible idea after all.

Oh I am intrigued great story!

Love this !!!!

A Far Away Infinity

Part 1 2 3 4

Part 5 // Swallow those tears, baby girl. //

Keep reading

Reblog for later.

Fanfiction - Happier

I wrote this short thing for the needle wizard, pencil sorceress and all around magnificent friend, the lovely @outlanderedandoverhere. Master Seamstress shares with me the love for Ed Sheeran and I couldn’t resist the urge to have her doing a happy dance over this. Enjoy! X

Happier

I entered the small coffee shop, unfolding my scarf as soon as I felt the merciful warmth of the heating system, aiming towards a quiet table at the corner, as I shook off snowflakes from my curls.

As I waited for the small waitress to bring me my cranberry scone and a large cup of steaming tea, I opened my notebook and started reading the notes I had taken. It was a very hard case, a young patient with a rare tumor compressing his bile duct – presenting with jaundice, looking like the most recent character of The Simpsons. The previous surgeon in charge of the case had announced it to be unresectable, which gave him about three months of life expectancy. At the age of thirty, you are seldom ready for your life to end – least of all without throwing a good fight.

And that was what I was planning to offer him – a risky procedure, only done in the past by a handful of surgeons in the country. If it worked, he would be cancer free – and it was my job to guarantee it worked. I had barely slept the last couple of nights, immersed in planning the surgery to the finest detail.

I loved my job, fiercely – even in the moments I hated it. I never lost the tingling on my palms when I held the scalpel or the sudden feel of a jump inside my belly, like I had missed a step, whenever I finished a hazardous procedure. Besides, it was a very welcome distraction from the wreckage of my personal life.

I sipped my tea, delighted with the smoky taste of the Highland blend, strong and homely on the back of my tongue. It reminded me of the taste of his skin against my lips and I swallowed hard, slightly shaking my head to disperse unwelcome memories.

The bell above the door rang, a small tornado of snow allowed in as new customers entered the cosy place. I bit the back of my pencil, tilting my head to better discern an approach, as I mobilized the invisible pancreas before me. I smiled, seeing the vessels and ducts so well exposed in the eye of my mind, ready to be conquered, and raised my eyes to ask for a second congratulatory scone.

I saw his back but recognized him immediately – I had kissed that spot just behind his ear, where his hair curled at the nape, countless times.

He was wearing his pilot uniform underneath his overcoat, the flight captain’s hat placed next to his elbow on the table. I had a sudden flash of his hands placing that hat on my head, a playful smile on his full lips, his slightly callused hands roaming my otherwise naked body. No.

Without thinking, I was already making myself small on my table, shrinking to the point where I could almost hide under the tasteful tablecloth – wishing I had gone to another place, in another time, in another world.

Only then I noticed he had company - a cute blonde girl wearing stewardess clothes, her lips painted red to match the satin scarf prettily tied around her neck in a bow. She sat in front of him on the table, a complicit smile plastered on her face, as he talked – probably sharing something about a recent trip.

He was always coming and going, flying around the world – I remembered all too well setting my alarm to the middle of the night, just so I could listen to his voice in Tokyo. Kissing him goodbye – there had been so many goodbyes, not enough hellos – before he left to New York. Texting him, unsure where in the world he was exactly – but painfully aware it wasn’t by my side.

The nights became so long, always craving, always wondering. I felt split in two, half of myself scattered in the wind, travelling on the air - while the other half was forced to anchor it, bearing down, struggling with heaviness. There weren’t enough kisses to ease the constant ache, as much as he tried – and he had tried.

“Do ye not want me anymore?” He had asked me on the final night, broken – Oh, so broken.

I hadn’t answered him and in my silence he took his leave, shoulders hunched in pain. In truth, I couldn’t fathom a time when I wouldn’t want him – and that was the problem, wasn’t it? I kept wanting and wanting and wanting, wanting so much everything hurt, wanting so much I feared I would physically break.

The flight attendant touched his hand – to my horror he didn’t shy away from it. It lingered there, natural and possessive, and I felt the scone doing cartwheels inside my stomach like a flour acrobat.

She leaned over and told him something, slightly sticking her tongue out in mischief and he laughed. Throat and lungs and vocal chords, clapping and singing, an orchestra on a perfect rendition of amusement. Standing ovation from the crowd. Claire Beauchamp dead in the audience.

He used to laugh like that with me. Jamie always laughed with his entire body. He was that kind of man – whole in everything he did. I recalled the sensation of his laugh as I laid my cheek on his chest, a scientist studying the mechanisms of happiness. For a moment I closed my eyes and covered them with my hand, foolishly disturbed by the realization I didn’t hold his laughter in exclusiveness.

Jamie looked happy. I could see the outline of his smile, the corners of his mouth turned up in contentment. Had he been that happy with me, once? Before I filled our lives with insecurities, demands and frailties?

She squeezed his hand – fingers touching, skin meeting, hearts melting? - and got up, putting on her elegant coat. With a swish of blonde hair, she kissed his cheek – clearly no amiable kiss demanded such duration, in my opinion – and with a light caress on his forehead, left him finally alone.

He looked around, searching for the waitress to ask for a refill and – of course – spotted me. It was like standing on stage, two spotlights beaming on us, everything else left in darkness. Jamie glanced at me and I proudly endured his gaze, asserting that I saw his happiness and wasn’t shaken at all by it. Liar.

Slowly I made my way to his table, a slug crawling on a lettuce leaf, ugly but brave. I seemed to be ken on eating every crumb of my cake of sorrow and then smile, pretending it was sweet.

“Hello, Jamie.” I greeted him, bracing myself on the notebook I carried. His hair was somewhat shorter than the last time I had seen him, a couple of months ago, his uniform impeccable, the tie on his neck just a bit loose. I used to make his knots and suddenly panicked, fearing that the blonde girl was a master of turns and twists, able of fixing his heart as well as his tie.

“Hello, Claire.” Jamie replied, his voice cautious. “How are ye?”

“Good.” I smiled nervously. “Are you back from work?”

“Aye.” He fidgeted with the mug in front of him, a soft hesitant smile on his lips. “Just got back from Brazil. It was a wee furnace there.”

“Ah.” I swallowed hard, struggling to come up with other pleasantries I could share with him. Do you smile in your sleep when she touches you? “You look good. Happy.”

“What are ye asking me, Claire?” He avoided my gaze, his face abruptly serious.

“Nothing.” I replied in a hoarse voice, well aware that he could spot the tears forming on the corners of my eyes, in the fountains of my soul. “Just that. You looked happy with her.”

“She’s a good lass.” He glared at me, his eyes outrageously blue and intent. “She understands what life is for me. I feel that I can talk to her.”

“As you couldn’t talk to me?” I tried to smile again and failed miserably, the glass of my face polished and glistening, reflecting the thousands of small sorrows hidden in the corners of my eyes.

“I told ye all my soul and heart.” Jamie lowered his eyes, grabbing his hat. “In the end it wasna enough. That is my utmost regret, Claire - that it wasna enough.”

I stood there, speechless, as he gathered his things and left. I thought of the bleeders that elude the most capable surgeon, the cardiac arrest that lasts forever, the hands inside where we are most private, touching the core of what we are, unable to reach what had been lost. I slammed my heart at him as he closed the door behind him – “Jamie!” – knowing all too well I had no one to blame but myself. I had traded all for nothing, convinced it was a worthy bargain – blind, blind, fool.

I crawled home, shaken to the very marrow of my bones, oozing love and loss – sticky and queasy with it. In medical school they had told me how the brain works to protect itself – the clever barrier surrounding it, the plasticity, the temperature regulation – and yet my brain seemed decided to finish me, incessantly playing memories of Jamie, smacking me with my own recklessness. I had no self-preservation left, for I loved him to the atoms of me.

I had seen him happy without me – there was joy there to be sure, in knowing him well. But the pain was almost unbearable, no last redoubt of magical thinking left, where I could hide and pretend we would find our way back to each other. He was gone. Pushed away by my own two hands.

I collapsed on the couch, curling into fetal position, making myself small and smaller. My ears were filled with the sounds of my own heart and I willed him to stop, to let go of beating, to be still and let me be.

He kissed my cheek on our first date. I kissed his lips on the second. Loved all of himself by the tenth. My heart leapt when I saw him, tall and gallant in his uniform, almost running to hold me in his arms at the hospital. When he told me flying was his second favourite thing. When he told me I was first. Red Jamie, my Jamie.

A knock on the door, fast and rhythmed. A secret code for the lover coming.

I padded to the door, afraid and wanting. Hopeful.

I opened the door and he was standing there, snowflakes turning into rivers on the brim of his hat. He reached out with his hand and I took it, already knowing I’d never let go again.

“I was happier with ye.” He whispered in a husky voice. And I remembered it all, the happiness and love I’d known, waiting in him as kisses on his lips.

Loved this @kalendraashtar  ... especially  “I was happier with ye.”

Fanfic - Just Across the Park, 2.

Well, it would´t be Jamie and Claire, if they didn´t have some obstacles on their way, would it? This chapter leaves you with some open questions, but I´m already writing the next one, so you`ll get the answers soon enough.

I´m still overwhelmed by the positive feedback for chapter 1. Thanks a million to you all for your comments, messages and shares. And my friend @tammywt, thank you for beta-reading this chapter, as well as for your wonderful ideas. You´re the best around!

Jamie remembered clearly when he had seen her for the first time. It was six months ago, on one exceptionally cold autumn morning as he was running his usual route at Meadows, earbuds in his ears, listening to some silly old disco tunes that always made him feel energetic and alive. “Gotta have some hot love baby, this evenin’..”  His sister Jenny had made a new list to be played at the Fraser Fitness, the gym he owned, and had absolutely managed to pick the best songs of soul and old disco.

Trying hard not to sing along out loud - knowing his voice wasn’t quite suited for public performances - he glanced over and saw three women, approximately 20 metres away, with their wee dogs playing on the frosty lawn.

The image of her was burned into his mind so vividly he could still remember the details. She was laughing full laugh and throwing back her head, and even though he could only hear Donna Summer moaning Hot Stuff in his ears, he knew for certain how infectious her giggling would´ve been.

She was backlit by the early morning sun, creating a halo around her long riotous curls that were shining in all possible shades of brown. Breath was steaming out of her mouth, her white teeth were gleaming and she looked like an impersonation of joy - shameless, even impudent joie de vivre - who didn´t owe the world an apology for being alive. For a second he had wanted to join her, just to share that joy and to know what she was laughing about.

Since that morning, Jamie had gradually learned her routines. More than once and even during the winter, he had seen her sitting on the old bench under the cherry trees, talking to her wee dog and looking rather embarrassed as he run past her as if he´d caught her doing something inappropriate. He had also seen her throwing a ball to her pooch and jumping with excitement like a five-year-old as the wee animal returned with the toy. He had witnessed her walking there so distressed as though the whole world was on her shoulders and she was just about carrying the weight. Observing her, he had studied her moods, all written so clearly on her face, and become more intrigued each day.

But she never saw him.

She was never paying any attention.

It was as though he had turned invisible.

This had been a whole new experience for Jamie as he was well aware of his usual effect on the opposite sex. Not that he´d taken advantage of it, on the contrary, he hadn´t had any relationship for five years and had decided to keep it that way until someone special enough came along. But he was used to women paying attention to him, as did the ladies at the the gym, who were desperately trying to flirt with him on a daily basis. But not this curly-haired woman in the park, no, she walked past him as if he didn´t even exist.  

He had played with idea of approaching her, inventing different plots and plans in his head, but when the moment arrived he just chickened every time. All his replies started to sound clichéd in his own ears and for some reason he just knew she would be far too smart for daft and sleazy pick-up lines.

But then had come that blessed morning when the cloak of invisibility had been taken off his shoulders. Why that particular morning? Perhaps the stars aligned; he would never know, but what he did know was that her gaze, focused on his lower body, had shot through his groin like a physical touch, almost giving him a cock-stand right there - even though he had seen well enough she was deep in her thoughts and was not doing it on purpose. The next morning, when the wee creature had stubbornly lifted up her chin to meet his eyes, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment… Well, he´d thought he could fall in love with the woman for that impression only, so defiant yet rather fragile and shy.

And since that day Lady Fortune had been on his side.

Jamie had no idea how he had ended up that side of the park, walking home from Murtagh´s house warming party that night. It may be that in his drunken state his subconscious mind had taken over and he had started to look for her as he calculated she must be living in the neighborhood. Luckily he hadn´t been too plastered to screw up everything when the impossible happened and he actually saw her, looking for her keys, her nose to the ground and her, well, rather nicely shaped arse up in  the air.

That night he got to know her name and was able to look at her at close distance -Claire… A Dhia. Her lips - they had looked so moist and pink, as if begging to be kissed. He really struggled with himself not to try anything stupid and scare her away. His patience paid off, as well as his bold suggestion to see her again, and after she had given him her number everything had evolved better he could ever have hoped for.

They had actually exchanged several messages during that first night and he´d blushed reading them the next morning. He´d been more flirty and daring than he would ever have been sober, but Claire had dealt his clumsy lines and jokes with grace and dry humour. He had been right - she was very quick-witted. And the best of all, she still wanted to see him and had promised to go out with him the next weekend. 

Sitting at the reception desk of his gym, Jamie thought about the past days and planned where he would take Claire for their first date. He was truly fascinated by this woman, enchanted by her beauty as well as by the intoxicating and rare combination of strength and vulnerability. He wanted the place to be out of the ordinary, like she was exceptional, not just some common restaurant where anyone could take her. No, he wanted it to be special as he wanted her to find him worthy of her.

Music was thundering and a group of women in colorful fitness clothes - that weren´t exactly  designed to hide much - walked past him like a flock of exotic birds, giggling and sending him hopeful glances. Yet, he didn´t seem to see or hear anything, not even his phone until Jenny came from the back room, poked him on the shoulder, frowning her brows and passing him an annoyed gaze.

“Wake up, ye eejit! Ye´ve been so strange the past two days! We´ll be running out of customers if ye dinna start answering that phone!”

“Och?… aye…”, he answered absentmindedly, his tone so mild it made Jenny to scrutinize him more closely.

“Are ye ill, brother?”, she asked, trying to reach his forehead with her hand.

“Nay! Dinna fash yerself. I´m fine”, he impatiently pushed her hand away and finally answered the phone that had rang god knows for how long.

His expression turned serious as he listened to the voice at the other end of the wire. Jenny would have been willing to continue their conversation as he closed the mobile, but he immediately stood up and reached for his jacket.

“I´ve got to go. It was Willy´s teacher. He´s hurt his head and they´ve taken him to the Sick Kids to be stitched. I have to get the lassies from school and go there. Will ye take care of …?” he called out, one leg already out of the door.

“Aye, sure, I´ll be fine here, just go! Call me when ye get there!”, he heard Jenny yelling after him as he was running to catch the elevator.

William…again. That boy will put me in an early grave, Jamie sighed, speeding his Ford Mondeo towards the secondary school, calling the principal on the way and asking him to have Marsali and Joan ready once he got there. It wasn´t the first time the wee rascal had gotten into trouble and surely not the last one either. As a three-year-old he´d burned himself on the teapot, being four broke his leg jumping into the sandpit near Lallybroch and a year later almost got drowned as he suddenly jumped off the boat for a swim - forgetting that he didn´t have the necessary skills to keep his head above the water.

“Da! What has happened? Is it Willy again? But you´ve promised to take me to Anna´s house after school. We have to practice our dance program!” 14-year-old Marsali whined as she stepped into the car in the school parking lot, clearly irritated at this unexpected disturbance.

“Aye, ´tis William, he´s hurt his head but I dinna ken much, just that they´ve taken him to the Sick Kids A&E”, Jamie said, ignoring the displeasure of the teenager.

“Da, hope ye recall my riding lesson is tonight”, 12-year-old Joan announced as soon as she jumped into the back seat and slammed the car door shut.

Another discontent teen, then…Sounds like a pleasant evening, he snorted inwardly… “I do recall all yer dances and wee ponies but we have to see Willy first, how badly he´s hurt himself this time, aye?”, he muttered as he started their car and headed towards the hospital.    

Looking for your child in the accident and emergency department is always rather shocking - even if you know there´s no real life danger. When Jamie and the girls arrived at the main entrance to the hospital, an ambulance with flashing blue lights drove into the yard. It suddenly gave him chills and made him say a silent prayer for that unknown patient. How fragile life is, he thought, directing the girls towards the waiting room and leaving them there with quick assurances that he´d be back soon. Then he half ran behind the friendly nurse, who was guiding him towards the consulting room.

“Mr. Fraser, you don´t have to be too worried”, she comforted him before he even had time to ask anything. “The doctor will be with you any minute and she´ll tell you exactly what happened to the little fellow and give you the regimen as well. William, your father is here”, she said, opening the door.

“Da! Look what I´ve got!”, the red-haired boy yelled excitedly, waving his hands. “Here´s Spiderman on a motorbike! And here´s his web! And flames!”

“Now, stay still and lie down, as you were told, young man. He just got some temporary tattoos on his arm because he was such a brave patient”, the nurse explained, gently pushing William on his back into the hospital bed.

“Look at that lad, bonny tattoos ye´ve got, but it looks like ye´ve got something else as well”, Jamie glanced at the bandage on his forehead, feeling relieved his son appeared to be very much alive. “What happened at school today? Why are you here?”, he asked, gently tousling the curly hair that looked so much like his own.

“Well, da… he didna mean it, really. And it was my fault as I punched him in the tummy first”, William started, suddenly remembering the original reason for this visit.

“Hey hey, hold on. Who didna mean and what? And who did ye punch? Ye ken well enough what I´ve said about punching, aye?”

“Aye, I do da, but Jerry said that I–”,

Their talk was interrupted by the clear and friendly female voice from the door. “Well, little William Fraser, everything seems to be alright here. I was told your dad has arrived–”

Jamie turned around just to see the plethora of emotions flitting across her face. Warm smile was replaced by confusion, then anger or disappointment, until she quickly arranged her face into a professional mask. She was smiling again, but the stiffness didn´t leave her face and the smile didn´t quite reach her eyes.

The doctor, she was Claire.

“H-hello…Claire. Doctor”, Jamie stammered a little, totally overwhelmed by her sudden appearance.

“Mr. Fraser. I´m Dr. Beauchamp and I´ve treated your son as his teacher brought him here for his head injury”, she came forward and very formally gave him her hand.

I´m Claire, by the way, he heard another voice in his ears, as he took her hand to greet her. Holy Mary, this just happened, except she was in her pajamas, her hair a dark, an untamed storm.  

Now her hair was pulled back into the tight bun. Dr. Beauchamp. Not that he had anything against this strict professional look either, but his brains just refused to process this all. For a moment Jamie wondered if it was him who had hit his head instead of William.

Fortunately, Claire didn´t work in the emergency department for nothing. No matter how nervous she was in her personal life, she was a hard-boiled professional, and as a doctor, fully able to control herself.

“William”, she turned to talk to the boy, her smile genuinely warm this time. “Perhaps we should tell your father what happened to you today.” Then she turned to face Jamie again and the smile disappeared. “We had to put ten stitches on his forehead. Apparently another boy pulled him down from the jungle gym, but that´s something the school has to deal with, it´s not our business. We have treated William for his wound and as he hit his head on the ground, there´s always a risk of concussion as well.”

Jamie frowned and tried to force himself to concentrate on her words - and tear his gaze away from her lips that still looked very kissable even though her voice sounded strangely cold.

“I´ve examined him and he didn´t have any problems in our neurological tests so there´s no reason to be too concerned. I´ll give you the list of symptoms, anyway. You should observe the boy for the possible changes in his behaviour. The common symptoms are nausea, tiredness and headache”, Claire continued as she would have talked to any father, not to Jamie. Not to a man, she was about go out with in a few days time.

Jamie wasn´t so worried about William any longer. The wound was stitched and most likely the lad had as thick of a skull as his father - Jenny used to call his head an iron pot; as many times he had hit his head as a wean and without any serious consequences.

Instead Jamie started to worry for himself. Claire was so politely distant as if they´d never have met before. At first he had been so baffled himself that he thought it was just her professional role but now he was certain it wasn´t. He couldn´t ask her while William was there, so he desperately tried to catch her eyes - without succeeding. It was as if she had erected a wall around her, transparent but still very much existent and hard as stone.

Then it suddenly hit him - of course - if there´s a son and a father, well, usually a mother is involved as well. Dear Lord, she must think I´m some deceptive bastard who has a wife at home waiting. Fuck!

“Could I call ye later?… I mean if I need to ask something… or if some symptoms appear…”, he said at the door, his eyes silently trying to convince her that he´d have explanation for everything.

The double meaning of his question was rather obvious and it seemed that Claire was considering it as she escorted them out down the corridor. Then they heard two girls yelling in unison for da and saw Marsali and Joan running towards them. With an unreadable expression on her face, Claire looked at the girls as they were hugging little William and demanding for money from their father for the candy machine, and it appeared that this scene suddenly tipped the scale to other direction.

“I´m sure William will do just fine, but if some acute symptoms appear you better call our emergency hotline, they are capable of assessing the situation. Bye then, William, get well soon. Mr. Fraser. Girls”, she said, turned around and determinedly started walking the corridor in the other direction.  

Jamie could still hear the echo of her footstep far down the corridor as he grabbed William in his arms to carry him to the car. He cursed inwardly, long and hard. He loved the kids something fierce but right now he would have given anything if none of them were near this hospital.  This time two-faced Lady Fortune had decided to play against him.

Jamie made his first phone call to Claire before they even left the parking lot, telling a white lie to the kids that he had some business phone calls to make. No answer. Well, she may not have her personal phone with her during the working day, he tried to reassure himself, and sent her a text instead. As it later turned out, it was just the first of many.

Couple of hours passed. Murtagh came to help and took the girls to their activities while Jamie stayed at home with William who had a mild headache after the accident. He was more than happy when William settled to watch the children´s channel as he found it hard to concentrate on anything. Checking his phone every other minute just in case he might have just missed the peep, Jamie tried to make some supper for them. Something simple tonight, he decided, taking the bolognese sauce out of the freezer and throwing some pasta into the boiling water. He sent silent thanks to Suzette, Murtagh´s lady friend, who was always cooking them meal-sized portions to be freezed. Then he just couldn´t take it any longer.

Another hour. Murtagh called just to inform him that he´ll be back with the girls around eight and Jamie could not quite hide his disappointment when he heard his deep brogue on the phone instead of Claire´s sophisticated British accent. After that he managed to anger Jenny, who would have wanted to talk with Willy and he just couldn´t keep the phone line busy for that long. Another message.

At eight Marsali and Joan arrived home with Murtagh, bubbling over with excitement and telling stories of horses, boys, dance clothes and all the other things that were most important in the world of teenage girls. Murtagh gave Jamie a curious look, noticing his godson´s mind was clearly occupied elsewhere, no matter how hard he tried to listen to Marsali and Joan. After William had finally gone to sleep and the girls closed themselves in their rooms, two men sat in the living room, a glass of amber whisky in their hands.

Sensing that Jamie still was rather tense, the old man tried to comfort him. “The wee lad will be fine, ye see. Ye were exactly the same at his age. Always running headlong into trouble.”

“Aye, sure he will. He´s having a wee headache now and that´s probably it. But it isna that. Will ye excuse me”, Jamie emptied his glass and suddenly left the room just to check his phone in the hall. Another message.

Jamie was just about to return the living room as his mobile finally peeped. He squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed hard until he was able to read it. Hail, Holy Queen, Mother of mercy. An old catholic prayer came to his mind as he sighed and forced himself to look what she had written.

Oh, Blessed art thou amongst women! “Yes!”, he shouted out aloud, his whole body flooding with such a sense of relief his knees bent under his weight. She was willing to listen. At least he´d have his chance to explain. “Murtagh!”, he yelled then, grabbing his jacket from the hook. “Could ye stay here wi´ the bairns, I need to go out. ´Tis an emergency.”

“Aye? What happened? No Jenny, I hope?”, his godfather peeked into the hall, but his troubled expression changed as he saw how Jamie was fizzling with restless energy. “Hmpr…”, Murtagh grunted and gave him a quizzical look. “Emergency, eh?”

“Aye. A matter of life and death, really”, Jamie grinned, lacing up his sneakers.

“Och… May I ask how long this emergency will take, then. Must I sleep on yer knotty couch again?”

“Nay, I dinna think so. But Murtagh, I think I´ve finally met her.”

“Met who? What are ye babbling about, laddie?”

“The lass my da always talked about. The right one, ken? Now I only need to convince her about it.”

I am really enjoying this @whitenightowl  !

Fic: The Window Seat

Apparently I am being assailed by plot bunnies. This one hit me as I attempted to sleep last night.

Its just a short one though.

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A cloud passed over the sun

He watched her. His wife, his Sassenach. Claire. She sat where she sat every morning, in the window seat of the kitchen. She loved that spot. She stretched herself like a cat in the sunlight and the comparison made him smile. She reminded him of a cat sometimes. At once languorous but with an air of suppressed ferocity. He’d seen her lose her temper.

It was a warm morning. The sun shone into the kitchen and a breeze danced through the room. It lifted her hair slightly and she raised her face towards it, eyes closed. He had known her for a decade. Lived with her, seen her everyday, but even so he could not help but to admire her. The strong line of her jaw, the paleness of her skin, so rich and creamy, that cloud of dark hair that he thought was brown but reflected light in a way that it shone red and gold and silver. He knew what her hair would smell like. It would smell of citrus, a soft tang. It would be soft and wild under his touch. His eyes closed as he remembered the feel of her hair on his body as they made love, the tickle of the curls against his face as they kissed, the softness of it in his hands as he held her close to him.

Sorcha. It was a wholly apt name. Not only Claire in the Gaelic, but light. With the sun shining in behind her she seemed illuminated. Like the angels he would see in the churches of his childhood. Earthly but not. Familiar, but hinting of something more, a promise as yet unrevealed.

Sorcha.

His eyes shut briefly as a tear escaped. He opened them. The window seat sat empty. The breeze ruffled the service booklets on the counter. He felt his brother in law’s hands on his shoulders.

It was time.

He squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. The scent of her was still here. How long would it linger for? Would it gradually leave this place or would he wake one morning and find that all trace of her was gone?

The memory of that day. Her voice floating through the window from the street outside. Some mundane conversation with a neighbour. Then a squeal of brakes, a scream, the hideous sound of metal making contact with brick, with something softer..

The memory of her lying there. Her hand in his but growing cold as her listened to the sirens coming closer. As he in turns reassured and pleaded. Her hand sliding from his as she left. The feeling that his very core had been ripped from his body.

He stepped out into the garden. The sun was too bright. The cars were there. Black as the wound in his soul. She was there. She was leaving their home for the final time.

‘I will find you, Claire.’ He made the vow he had made a thousand times since that day.

A sob broke free from his throat.

A red haired little girl took his hand.

He looked down at her and stroked her hair, hair so much like his own.

They walked down the path.

Beautifully written ... heartbreaking @awesomeeyeroll