E.A. Deverell - FREE worksheets (characters, world building, narrator, etc.) and paid courses;
Hiveword - Helps to research any topic to write about (has other resources, too);
BetaBooks - Share your draft with your beta reader (can be more than one), and see where they stopped reading, their comments, etc.;
Charlotte Dillon - Research links;
Writing realistic injuries - The title is pretty self-explanatory: while writing about an injury, take a look at this useful website;
One Stop for Writers - You guys... this website has literally everything we need: a) Description thesaurus collection, b) Character builder, c) Story maps, d) Scene maps & timelines, e) World building surveys, f) Worksheets, f) Tutorials, and much more! Although it has a paid plan ($90/year | $50/6 months | $9/month), you can still get a 2-week FREE trial;
One Stop for Writers Roadmap - It has many tips for you, divided into three different topics: a) How to plan a story, b) How to write a story, c) How to revise a story. The best thing about this? It's FREE!
Story Structure Database - The Story Structure Database is an archive of books and movies, recording all their major plot points;
National Centre for Writing - FREE worksheets and writing courses. Has also paid courses;
Penguin Random House - Has some writing contests and great opportunities;
Crime Reads - Get inspired before writing a crime scene;
The Creative Academy for Writers - "Writers helping writers along every step of the path to publication." It's FREE and has ZOOM writing rooms;
Reedsy - "A trusted place to learn how to successfully publish your book" It has many tips, and tools (generators), contests, prompts lists, etc. FREE;
QueryTracker - Find agents for your books (personally, I've never used this before, but I thought I should feature it here);
Pacemaker - Track your goals (example: Write 50K words - then, everytime you write, you track the number of the words, and it will make a graphic for you with your progress). It's FREE but has a paid plan;
Save the Cat! - The blog of the most known storytelling method. You can find posts, sheets, a software (student discount - 70%), and other things;
UNEARTHED by @jewelsbrooke & @livinginafanficworld
An invitation from the Forensic Anthropology Society of Europe sets Claire Beauchamp on an exciting path of murder, mystery, and intrigue. Little does Claire know, bones aren’t the only things being unearthed in Edinburgh, Scotland.
Chapter One [AO3]
Author’s Note: Each chapter begins with a short flashback. These flashbacks are not linear and there could be any number of years between the flashback and main storyline. Additionally, we highly recommend blaming Bones if you are upset by any scientific inaccuracies you may read from here onwards. This story is just for fun! J & A x
Claire couldn’t stop staring.
“Do ye like what ye see, Sassenach?” Jamie smirked. “Or is it what ye canna see that’s got yer eye?”
Claire glanced up at his face only to look straight back down at his crotch again.
“What in the name of Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ is… that??”
“This?” replied Jamie, dramatically tilting his pelvis forward to showcase his belt buckle. “My clan motto, ye ken it. Je suis prest… I am ready?”
“Are you sure you’re ready to go out in public wearing that?” Claire raised an eyebrow. The buckle could only be described as both oversized and garish. Perhaps once, she figured, Highlanders wore the emblem as a sense of pride but where it sat now attached to Jamie’s belt... it just seemed loud and obnoxious.
“I’m always ready - for anything” Jamie blinked slowly at her in a manner she was certain he had intended to be a wink.
“Aren’t you a witty one,” she responded dryly, having no doubt that her glass face was giving away her true feelings on the matter. It was taking everything she had not to start laughing out right.
“Come on, Sassenach,” said Jamie, wrapping his arm around her and pressing a kiss into her curls, “Let’s go see what everyone else thinks about my buckle, aye?”
-----
Claire relaxed as much as she could into the stiff airport lounge chair. Closing her eyes and tilting her head back she mentally assessed the past two days.
As expected, her presentation at the 43rd Forensic Anthropology Society of Europe Annual Convention held here in Edinburgh, Scotland had been a success. The invitation that had arrived in the mail two months prior had been a surprise but a welcome one. As much as she loved working for the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner in Boston, Massachusetts, her true passion lied in archeological forensic anthropology and it seemed the recent publication of her article in the Journal of Forensic Anthropology had caught the eye of organisations around the world. While this was both flattering and exciting, she was ready to go home all the same.
Which is why she really shouldn’t have been surprised when someone interrupted her peace.
“Excuse me, ma’am? Dr. Claire Beauchamp?”
Claire opened one eye and immediately sat up to address the man standing in front of her. With just one glance Claire could see that he was not only tall but also extremely fit considering the way his black suit fit across his torso upon which a gold Union Jack was pinned.
“Yes, I’m Dr. Beauchamp.”
“I must ask ye to come with me, Ma’am,” said the man, gesturing towards the main terminal with his hand.
“What is this about… Agent?” Claire questioned in an attempt to extract any information at all.
“Ma’am. I must insist,” replied the agent, unwavering, as another similarly dressed man came to stand behind him.
Claire sighed. She may as well have been directing her questions at a brick wall and there was no point delaying the inevitable.
“Very well,” said Claire as she gathered her purse and laptop bag. “Can I at least ask where it is you’re taking me?”
-----
Flanked on either side by stone-faced agents, Claire was escorted through the flurry of reporters and spectators held back by neon yellow crime scene tape.
“Dr. Claire Beauchamp for Sergeant Dougal Mackenzie,” one of the men reported when met with a young police officer who was obviously doing her best to ignore the questions being yelled at her by the small crowd.
“Dr. Beauchamp! Thank you for agreeing to join us,” said the officer as she held the tape up, inviting Claire to step underneath. “Sergeant Mackenzie is this way.”
Claire followed the officer through a copse to where a number of uniformed and non-uniformed personnel were gathered.
“The Sergeant is the one overseeing the crime scene,” said the officer as she pointed out an older looking man who carried himself with an obvious sense of authority. “He doesn’t usually attend this sort of things in person but word is that the Captain is taking this one very seriously.”
“Thank you, Officer...”
“Mackenzie, ma’am, Officer Mackenzie” replied the officer with a smile before turning back towards the boundary line.
Claire adjusted the travel bag she still carried over her shoulder and made her way through the number of people working around the site.
“Sergeant Mackenzie,” Claire held out her hand, “Dr. Claire Beauchamp. I believe it was you who requested my services here today?”
“Aye,” replied the Sergeant, acknowledging Claire’s proffered hand with little more than a slight grunt. “This is the third case we’ve seen in just two months. We’re officially labelling it the work of a serial killer. The Captain’s called in not just yerself but also the NCA - we need to catch this person before they hurt somebody else.”
“NCA?” questioned Claire as she crossed her arm over her chest in an attempt to curb her building frustration with Scottish law enforcement personnel.
“National Crime Agency. We usually handle these kinds of cases but the NCA has a much more detailed database and the monetary resources necessary to deal with something like this. I believe ye’ve already met our resident forensic anthropologist, Geillis Duncan?”
“Yes, we met this past weekend at the FASE Convention. Perhaps it would be best for me to check in with Dr. Duncan and see where my skills would best be utilised?”
“Aye,” the Sergeant nodded. “And if ye have any questions or need anything in particular ye best talk to Senior Officers Rupert Mackenzie and Angus Mackenzie over ‘ere. They’ll see to it.”
“What’s the deal: you won’t let anyone other than Mackenzies work on the force?” asked Claire, only half joking.
“Keeping the clan tradition alive, lass,” responded the Sergeant. “Ye’ll find most precincts are much the same.”
“How every progressive of you,” replied Claire dryly before moving away to join Geillis who was taking notes in what appeared to be a leather pocket book.
“Claire! I’m glad to see ye again - although I will admit it’s much sooner than I expected,” Geillis pulled a spare set of gloves out of her pocket and handed them to Claire. “This here is my assistant Jeannie Hume.”
The young woman lying on her stomach at ground level carefully brushing dirt from what appeared to be an exposed femur paused to look up at Claire and Geillis.
“Dr. Beauchamp,” smiled Jeannie, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Claire dropped her bag to the ground and moved around the edge of the site to crouch down beside her.
“I’m happy to be working with you, Jeannie,” Claire smiled as she pulled on the gloves. She picked up an already exhumed metacarpal bone and held it up to view it with better lighting. “These bones appear to have been exposed to fire prior to being buried.”
“Aye, just like the two previous sets of remains that have been discovered,” replied Geillis. “It was determined that on both occasions the victim had been deceased when placed into a hole before being doused in accelerant and set alight. It was hours later that the remains were buried beneath a pile of earth.”
“And you suspect this is what also happened to whomever these remains belonged to?”
“Aye, there appears to be a pattern,” replied Geillis.
“A serial killer, they’re saying” exclaimed Jeannie excitably.
“Well, I must say I prefer conclusions based on detailed scientific analysis rather than the assumptions of law enforcement personnel,” Claire set the bone back down and stood to take off her gloves. “I really won’t be much help until I am able to examine these bones in a sterile environment.”
“I agree, Claire, there’s nothing more we can do here,” said Geillis before turning to address Jeannie directly. “I will leave it to ye to see that everything is shipped back to the Marion Institute of Science where we can examine the remains properly.”
-----
Claire picked the camera up and started documenting the bones laid out on the table before her. She knew that the Institute was both well staffed and adequately equipped but she intended to send some images back to Joe Abernathy, her partner in Boston, all the same.
“What do we know so far, Mr. Mackenzie?” Claire asked Willie, Geillis’ apprentice whom was yet another Mackenzie. She suspected this job would become very confusing very quickly if she didn’t pay attention to those around her.
“Initial findings suggest female, caucasian, early 30’s. Just like the two bodies found previously, blunt force trauma to the skull is evident despite the body being burned,“ Willie listed as he handed the file over to Geillis. “Police report says the remains were found early this morning by a couple hiking through the woods. The husband had left the path to relieve himself only to literally stumble across the bones.”
“I doubt he felt very relieved,” Claire chuckled distractedly as she crouched down to capture a particular angle of the victims’ clavicle.
“Aye, I doubt it verra much,” said a voice behind them, noticeably thick with Scottish accent.
“This,” Geillis started as both she and Claire turned to face the person whom the voice belonged to, “is a closed examination room! I told security specifically to....”
Geillis kept speaking but for Claire time came to a halt. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t even feel the heavy camera in her hands.
It couldn’t be him. It couldn’t. For years she’d been working to avoid seeing - or even remembering - his face.
And yet…
“Jamie?”
She hadn’t spoken his name out loud since the day they parted yet it left her lips almost involuntarily, as if she had never stopped.
“Aye, Sassenach,” he smirked as he leaned casually against the door frame, left thumb tucked behind that garish Fraser Clan belt buckle of his. “I hear there’s a murder ye need help solving.”
“Och!” She heard the sound coming from the attic, his makeshift office for the last few weeks.
The exhibition was tomorrow, and many sleepless nights had culminated in the racket above her.
They needed the commission. Even more-so now.
Claire looked down to see Perdy and Pongo curled up on their oversized dog bed, ears perked in alarm. With a sigh, she crouched beside them, Perdy’s nose poking her stomach. Pongo whined, and she scratched behind his ear before giving them both kisses on their noses. “It’s ok Pongo. I’ll go see what’s wrong. You better stay here with your lady.”
She tiptoed up the steps, looking around the disheveled room. She found him hunched against a leather chest. His paintings were strewn about.
He’d stood in that spot for days- judging each painting’s brush strokes and color combinations. He had painstakingly pointed out each flaw to Claire, who squinted and studied every color and texture but could not see them herself. She had stayed patient and calm, giving encouragement to him and helping him see the beauty in his work.
When he had finally relented and agreed, his words would come quickly and his accent would thicken- fresh worry and concern only now it was over the critics and published reviews he knew would come.
“Are you alright, love?” She asked softly, as not to startle him.
“Aye,” he said with a sigh. “I was just finalizing the collection for the exhibition...”
He lifted a painting and she signed. It was his favorite, the pièce de résistance of his collection. Right in the middle, amidst a beautiful cascade of color, was Pongo’s nose print.
She padded over towards him, wrapping her arms around him, placing her head against his chest. “I kind of like it,” she said gently. “It’s a one of a kind piece, right?”
His arm wrapped around her waist as he cocked his head, holding the painting out at arm’s length for inspection. He let out a Scottish grunt and blinked hard for a moment before looking down at her. “Aye. I suppose it has its own sort of charm.”
Jamie kissed her forehead and sighed into her hair. She squeezed him once more before releasing him. He turned back towards his work, muttering bits of Gaelic as he picked up the next painting.
She smiled and shook her head, watching her husband’s fingers fidget at his side as he tilted his head, examining each piece again. Feeling faint, Claire grabbed the table next to her for balance. She closed her eyes, focusing on her breathing.
Jamie turned to see Claire hunched over, panic in his voice as he asked, “Are ye alright, mo nighean donn?”
In a few long strides he was at her side, his hands on her shoulders to steady her.
She opened her eyes to see concern painted across his face- eyebrows creased and jaw clenched. Her smile was soft and reassuring, “Yes, just a bit dizzy, really. I’m fine.”
“Ye really do have a glass face, mo chridhe,” Jamie quirked an eyebrow at her as his eyes scanned her face. Reached his hand to her stomach, a small smile formed on his lips. “But I promise ye- our child isna gonna want for anythin’.”
Her eyes met his and she gasped. She had just barely found out… “How did you know?”
His smile widened as he reached for her hand. His voice was soft and low, full of love and happiness. “Yer cheeks are rosier than ever and no’ from my whiskers.”
She laughed and stepped back into his embrace. His warmth encompassed her and she felt their heartbeats find their rhythm. His face was glowing as she asked, “Are you happy? I know this is sudden, and with the exhibition-“
“Aye Sassenach! Of course I’m happy!” His arms tightened around her and he picked her up, spinning in a circle that forced a noise from her as she laughed. “Aye, I do love yer squeaky noises lass!”
They leashed Perdy and Pongo and took a quick stroll around the neighborhood. Walking hand in hand, Jamie and Claire watched wagging tails bouncing along the pavement. Soon they would be a household of five, and these walks would include a stroller and baby giggles.
Settling the dogs into the flat, Jamie looked at Claire. “What do you say to a celebratory dinner, Sassenach?”
“That sounds like a great idea!”
“Dinner was just wonderful! Thank you, Jamie.” Her head rested against his shoulder as they closed the last few steps to their door.
Fishing for his keys in his pocket, he stopped. The front door was ajar. Slowly pushing it open, he flicked the switch and the entry way lit up. It was quiet- too quiet. No pitter patter of paws on the wood floor or barks of happiness from the living room.
“Perdy!” Claire cried out. “Pongo!”
The sound of whimpering came from the pantry. Jamie ran to the door, swinging it open quickly, and Pongo and Perdy spilled out of the cramped space. They whimpered, barked, and licked both Claire and Jamie’s faces.
“Jamie, have we been robbed?” Claire’s voice was filled with dread as she pulled Perdy close, her fingers intertwined in her blonde fur.
“I dinna ken,” Jamie’s eyes darted around the room. “Stay here, I’ll go search the flat. Come on Pongo.”
Pongo trotted alongside Jamie as they moved from room to room, but nothing seemed out of place. “So far so good, Sassenach. Better check the attic, just in case.”
Perdy whimpered as Pongo and Jamie trudged up the steps and Claire kissed her nose. Trying to calm Perdy as much as herself, her heart raced as she whispered, “It’s okay Perdy, we’re alright.”
“Claire!” Jamie’s voice echoed from the floor above, thick with panic.
Her heart leapt into her throat and her heart stopped when she heard her name. Adrenaline coursed through her veins as Claire rushed up the stairs, Perdy right behind her. Breathless, they found Jamie and Pongo standing in an empty attic.
“Gone.” Jamie ran his hands through his hair and locked them behind his neck. His eyes scanned the easels and bare tabletops. “The paintings… They’re all gone.”
Fic collab by @kkruml, @smoakingwaffles and @whiskynottea
Hey guys, @whiskynottea Pongo here, bringing you the fourth chapter of Barks and Glances! Woof (enjoy)!
Previously Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3
poster by @smoakingwaffles
Chapter 4. A home for four (by @whiskynottea)
(Ahhh let me stretch for a while… I've spent the last thirty minutes sitting by the window with my beautiful Perdita, looking at the passers-by. But a dog has to move once in a while, you know.
Okay, I’m ready to start now.)
Hey guys! It’s Pongo again!
Did you miss me?
Oh, come on, confess it. You did miss me.
It’s okay, you know, because I missed you, too!
I have so many news to share with you, that you better sink into a couch and make yourself a cuppa. Is this what you humans call it? I think so.
Coffee, tea, or a whisky - drink whatever you like. I would personally go with milk, in case you have some to spare.
Ready?
Okay, let me take this from the very beginning…
After my ingenious idea to drag Jamie to the park earlier than usual so he would meet Claire, these two goobers couldn’t take their eyes off each other.
And let me tell you all it took me was a minute (okay maybe two) to charm my beautiful Perdita. She couldn’t resist to this adorable, wet, chocolate lab, you see.
Anyway.
Jamie brought Claire and Perdy back to our house - which was a world’s first - and he made Claire tea while she waited for her clothes to dry. The clothes never dried, however, so both lasses left our place with the promise to meet again. Maybe my charm - and Jamie’s - played a role on this decision as well, but the clothes were the perfect excuse.
And now, between you and me, I have to admit that I hadn’t thought of getting them all wet in the pond beforehand. But it turned out pretty well, don’t you think?
Jamie started whistling the day he met Claire. I’ve never heard such a sound before, but his tuneless, poor imitation of a birdsong didn’t seem to dishearten him. Next thing, he got obsessed with his phone. He never let it far from his gaze and he texted like a maniac. As a result, he had banged his toes onto every furniture in our house, waking me up more than once with his boisterous shouts and swears. The man has a loud voice! The same voice, however, transformed into a smooth, deep and low one when Jamie was on the phone with Claire. It was the first time I heard him murmuring sweet nothings to the wee machine, with his cheeks and neck blooming red.
My ginger human was very much in love with Perdy’s curly one, and luckily the Sassenach, as he called her, returned his feelings.
After that first day, I met my beautiful blondie every day at the park. Our walk schedule became irregular after meeting them, and if it wasn’t for Perdy I would protest, barking loudly to wake everybody up when Jamie woke me up at six o’clock in the morning to go for a walk.
More than once.
Claire and Perdy, you see, didn’t have standard hours for their walks because of Claire’s shifts and we - lovesick puppies as we were - just followed their schedule.
It took approximately one month of sleepy walks for Jamie to realize that Claire was the human of his life and that there was no reason to wait anymore. The truth was loud and clear from the very beginning; she was his and he was hers. So he decided to put a collar on her. Humans don’t wear their collars on the neck - the choose tiny ones and they wear them on their fingers. They are strange creatures, indeed.
In front of the same pond I bound them together that first day, Jamie proposed to her. Claire said yes, jumping on him and taking him off guard, only to end up in the pond once again. This time though, they were kissing.
And kissing.
And kissing.
And I honestly thought we would never go home.
But, eventually, they stopped.
So we had a wedding.
The bride was the most beautiful lass I’ve ever seen. Her golden fur was shining under the sun, each hair glittering like it was made from little diamonds and -
Wait, what? You’re more interested in Claire?
Perdy was wonderful but since you insist… Claire looked nice, too. Okay, I’m lying. You got me!
Claire was captivating.
She wore a simple white dress and had tiny flowers pinned in her hair. Don’t ask me for more details, I’m just a dog, I don’t care about fashion. But I think it was a miracle that Jamie’s eyes didn’t pop out and fall on the floor, being so wide open when he first saw her. One would imagine that he was staring at a gigantic stake or a bucket of pasta, but no. It was just Claire.
At this moment I thought that Claire might be a fairy - and Jamie was enchanted by her. Judging from the foolish way he smiled as she was coming closer, he was absolutely fine with it.
And like this, two lonely bachelors became two family men - okay a man and a dog - starting their new lives.
Everything changed from the moment Perdy and Claire moved to our house.
Remember what I told you about Jamie’s paints and drawings, strewn all around our living room? Well, you can forget that now. Jamie has moved all his stuff in the attic, where he spends almost all day, preparing for his exhibition. With every passing day, Jamie becomes even more anxious about it. The drumming of his fingers against his thigh almost never stops, unless Claire takes his fingers in hers and kisses him softly. She does her magic then, I’m sure, because Jamie smiles again, looking peaceful and relaxed. With renewed vigor, he heads back to the attic.
This is exactly where he is right now.
Claire came back home about an hour ago and now I can hear her in the kitchen, humming along with the cabinets’ opening and closing, as she prepares tea. She is filling the kettle with water and now… yes. She’s going to the attic to bring Jamie down. Good, because we always get to play when it’s tea time!
Apart from the days when he comes. He calls Jamie’s name with an accent similar to Claire’s, but his voice is slimy, dripping and disgusting.
The Duke of Sandringham.
He has an air of superiority around him, wearing his expensive clothes and having his own driver waiting outside our house for as long as each visit lasts. He walks around our small house, fidgeting with our things and all I want to do is to bark his ears off until he vanishes completely from our lives. But I try my best and keep myself under control. Being a good boy is so hard.
The Duke always comes around tea time, orders Claire to make his tea as if she’s working for him, and once the tea is ready he goes straight up to the attic to find Jamie. They close the door and he values Jamie’s art while Claire digs a trail on the carpet with her feet, waiting. I know she’d swear if she could, but Jamie asked from all of us to be patient. He says the Duke is just weird.
I think he is an arsehole.
There is something evil in this man, and I can see it clearly when Jamie accompanies him downstairs after they’ve finished the inspection. He’s usually praising Jamie for his masterful, inspiring artwork as he descends the stairs, talking about a fabulous exhibition to come, but he has a strange glint in his eye that I don’t like. I can sense that he’s hiding the truth and Perdy agrees with me. Women have better intuition anyway, and I trust her. And I’m sure that Claire hates the way the Duke kisses her hand every time before heading to the door.
But Jamie… Oh, Jamie lives in a parallel universe. He says the Duke might be eccentric but is his agent and that he trusts him. Jamie insists that these visits are necessary, to make sure that the exhibition will be successful. And while he says all that, his fingers keep drumming against his thigh, his lips just a thin line.
My ginger is anxious and scared. He is more afraid than what he shows. One night that I heard noises coming from the attic, I went there to find Jamie sitting in the darkness, in the corner of the room. In my rush to ran towards him, I bumped head-first onto a painting and felt the fresh paint coloring my nose. That was disgusting, I’m telling you! Whining, I finally reached Jamie and lay next to him and with my head on his lap. I was sleepy, but I couldn't leave my human alone. We stayed awake until the first morning light, when Claire came back home and took us to bed.
Claire had her hair in a messy bun that day. Now, as she’s coming back into the living room, her curls fly free all around her face, framing her beautiful smile. She comes towards us, patting my head and scratching Perdy’s ear and I let a content woof as I snuggle closer to Perdita.
Ahh, love. It feels so good.
“Jamie, tea will be ready in five minutes!” Claire is saying as she moves up the stairs, before she opens the attic door gently. “Love?”
“Aye, Sassenach. I’m coming.” As Claire turns to leave, a stray sun beam colors her brown hair a beautiful auburn. “Mo nighean donn,” Jamie whispers, and his voice is barely audible, (but I’m a dog and as you know I can hear much better than you). Jamie always sees colors around him, waiting to be touched by his brushes, but nothing entrances him more than Claire. He raises from his stool and goes to meet her at the door, taking her in his arms while he kisses her lips.
I don’t think we’ll have tea any time soon.
“Jamie,” she says softly. “The kettle…”
“The kettle can wait, Sassenach. Everything else can wait.”
The attic’s door closes softly, hiding them from us and the world.
I don’t hear any nervous drumming of fingers behind that door anymore. All I can hear is two drumming hearts, and that makes me feel that everything is going to be alright.
A/N: A big thank you to @muykonos and @whiskynottea for making this possible because without your guidance this would’ve been a mess. (not Rachel’s portion, I am speaking of my portion only) Thank you @sassy-sassenach for your patience on this, the writer’s block appeared insurmountable at times. Some more PTSD for our Scot :( It’s been a while folks and I didn’t want to force this story. Hope you enjoy. Happy days are headed this couple’s way.
Scotland, Winter of 2006.
Lately, time seemed to go by slow as melting snow. Away from Jamie, the days still carried purpose and challenges of their own, but I was bone tired. My rounds at the hospital blended together, indistinguishable clumps of morning and night shifts. My body ached, my sharp mind felt dull.
Thankfully, after too many days of praying and hoping for his recovery, the time came for Jamie to be released. He was ready; we all were.
Feeling slightly nervous, I made my way down the stark, harshly lit hallway to witness Jamie saying several goodbyes to the staff and other patients in one of the many recreation areas where the TV was muted and games littered tables. Word had spread that the kind-hearted Scottish soldier had been discharged, and he was surrounded by a crowd of patients and hospital staff. Every space Jamie inhabited was made warm and jovial when he wanted it to be, and the air around him boomed with laughter as he talked. He was telling a story of a prank he had pulled on one of the nuns in Catholic school. I was quite familiar with the story, and I might even be able to recite it back to him, word for word. He told it the same way every time, demonstrative and expressive. One night, Jamie, his Da, and his rugby teammates carried the nun’s car into the gymnasium just in time for a school assembly early the next morning. His exaggerated hand movements emphasized his pride in being able to convince his Da to play a role. Before he saw me, I hung back, observing him. My chest swelled with love and pride for this man, and I found myself smiling.
Between shaking everyone’s hands and receiving well wishes, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to find Mrs. Fitz with tears brimming her kind, soft eyes. “He’ll be missed, ye ken. He has made some tremendous strides.”
I nodded, my own tears forming in relief and he managed to come back to me.
Mrs. Fitz, the nurse in charge of Jamie’s medicine, had been integral to his recovery. They became two peas in a pod during Hhis darkest days at the hospital. At the beginning, Jamie, stubborn Scot that he is, and hurting like he was, frequently refused to eat and, take his medicine. Mrs. Fitz knew he loved rugby, whisky, and cranachan, things he had shared with her in their passing conversations about the Scottish highlands. A very perceptive woman, Mrs. Fitz decided to strike offer him a deal-- she made him cranachan and snuck a wee dram of whisky inside her lunch pail and studied the rugby schedule. Every day, Mrs. Fitz would lunch with Jamie, and if he ate his whole meal, and took his medicine, she shared the delicious Scottish dessert and made sure he could watch his rugby games undisturbed by other staff or tests. On Fridays -- and only on weeks where he held up his end of the bargain -- she brought him whisky. As a result, Jamie ate his way back to his normal weight and took the required medicine. He opened up more during his psychotherapy sessions, too.
Eventually, it became unnecessary to bribe Jamie. Even he noticed the changes in his body and mental state. Mrs. Fitz was a saint in this hospital, and a guardian angel for us both.
I embraced her tightly one last time and let go to say, “Thank you. Thank you for all you’ve done. You brought him back to me.”
“Och, it was nothing, lass. You were all he spoke of. He wanted to get better for you.”
Making my way toward Jamie, my eyes lingered on the man in the wheelchair, saying goodbye to my smiling Scot. Jamie and I had met John Grey in one of the many group counseling sessions months ago. After several discussions, it was revealed that Jamie and John grew up not far from each other. There was an immediate kinship and brotherhood. They were both strong soldiers battling physical and mental demons. It was John who convinced Jamie to finally tell me some of the horrors he had witnessed.
“Sassenach, I woke up like it was any other day but quickly got the sense that something was amiss. Ken? My unit loaded up in the vehicle and I immediately spotted the Taliban. There were so many, Claire. So many. Our vehicle came under fire and I urged everyone exit and run. The enemy group began to scatter and I had already lost some of my fine men. Then I heard more shots and yells from the other side of what I thought was a refuge and I climbed the wall expecting to see a room but it was just wall. I hoped to surprise them but my boot betrayed me and I fell some twenty feet. It was the fall ,ye see, that broke my leg. The pain was unimaginable with the bone coming through the skin. I dropped my weapon, quickly, and pleaded for mercy with these cruel men. I was alone, Sassenach, and I didn’t know what to do so gathered myself up to my knees. The men must’ve thought I was surrendering but praying and thinkin’ of you and I saw yer face...Yer face shone so brightly like the sun and amongst the enemy yelling I heard Gaelic. The shouting was coming from a a vehicle crowded with soldiers and they gunned down the Taliban soldiers. I knew in my heart that that wasna my last day Sassenach. I knew I would see ye again.”
Realizing John was still weak, Jamie found a chair and pulled it right next to John. The farewell tears raced down his cheeks. John placed his hand on Jamie’s forearm and I soon saw John’s shoulders begin to shake. The two men embraced and began talking. I remained along the perimeter of the room so as not to interrupt their moment. I didn’t know what they were saying but I knew it was difficult for them both.
Shortly after revealing what happened and meeting John, Jamie told me I had been the anchor to life and his sense of ,home, but John was the captain. He helped navigate Jamie through treacherous waters of physical therapy, fatigue, continued pain, survivor’s guilt and more. John could relate to Jamie on a level that I couldn’t. I could be there to mend his heart but the bond between soldiers is just as deep. Things didn’t need to be said all the time, there was an unspoken understanding. John and Jamie were direct, honest, and could sense when the other was holding back physically or emotionally. When Jamie tried to cower and give up, John got Jamie to tell stories of childhood adventures, building projects, of meeting me. He knew Jamie could never pass up a story.
John and Jamie reached for tissues on the table but the box was empty. I managed to place some in my pocket before I left this morning and handed them over to the blubbering men. John and Jamie began to chuckle.
“It’s no like I won’t see ye, John. Ye live half an hour away,” Jamie said wiping his eyes. He sniffled bringing another tissue to his nose.
“You will have to visit me at home when I get all settled,” John sighed trying to get composed again.
“Of course we will John. I can’t wait to see what you’ve done with your new house.” I bent down hugging the man who meant so much to me I couldn’t even gather words to express my gratitude. “Thank you for everything, truly.” I stood back up, blinking back my tears.
Jamie grabbed his belongings and paused for one last moment with John. “Thank you John Grey. I am grateful. Farewell, my friend.”
The men shook hands and Jamie walked over to me with the crook of his arm out. “Ready?” I didn’t know if the question was more for me or for him. I snaked my arm into his and he firmly nodded.
Jamie was silent during the drive. We had decided that he should stay at Lallybroch for a while, before resuming his “normal” life, whatever that may be.
I kept glancing at him from the driver’s seat, afraid that this was all a dream, and he would disappear in an instant.
We finally arrived, and my heartbeat softened at the image of the manor in front of me. Lallybroch looked beautiful in winter, a soft blanket of snow covering the land, the last rays of sunset coloring the sky.
I could see the children waiting outside the house, young Jamie looking more grown up that the last time I saw him, wee Maggie and Kitty as adorable as ever.
They were too eager to stay inside waiting for their beloved uncle. Jenny must have planned a big meal, not listening to me as I kept saying that Jamie didn’t need all that fuss, just his family by his side.
“Nonsense,” the black haired woman had said, with a knowing smile, “My brother deserves the best.”
Jenny had become like a sister to me. She was there for me during those terrible days, where we didn’t know whether Jamie would return to me or to her.
We got out of the car and the children came running to us, giving him bear hugs.
Jenny came behind them. “Alright kids, live your poor uncle alone.” Her nose was red from the cold and she was cradling her pregnant belly, carrying her fourth child.
“I’m glad yer home, brother,” she hugged him and smiled with unshed tears in her eyes.
We went inside, Mrs. Crook and Ian waiting for us, the old woman unable to contain her tears when she hugged Jamie.
“Welcome home, brother,” his best friend said, a bright smile on his face when he hugged him.
Dinner was more than good. Everyone was talking around the big table, trying to make Jamie feel at home. Sometimes he got quiet, lost in deep thought, but he quickly came back to us, especially when Young Jamie told him jokes that made him laugh out loud.
After dinner his nephew and nieces dragged him to play with them, begging him to tell them stories.
“Alright kids, time to go to sleep.”
“But Ma, tomorrow is Saturday,” Maggie said, pouting.
“Don’t argue with me young lady! To sleep I said, your uncle is tired.”
After the kids went to sleep it was time for the adults to relax and catch up on things.
Hours went by, and Jamie had talked more than he had asking about his family, the mundane everyday things. He wanted to be filled in on the missing pieces as if he hadn’t been recovering for six months. He asked about Jenny’s teaching and Ian’s job at the bank. He asked me about former patients and my current stresses. All that time at the hospital when I thought I was speaking into a void he was listening. He remembered. We were sitting by the fire in the living room, Jamie, Jenny and Ian sharing stories of when they were children and, all the troubles they got into.
Jamie was smiling, the joy reaching his eyes. I was glad too, now completely sure that we did the right thing by coming to Lallybroch, instead of staying at our apartment in the city.
Around midnight we excused ourselves, and went up to our room. It had been a long day and I knew Jamie needed rest.
When we reached our room, Jamie hugged me suddenly, startling me. “Thank ye Sassenach, today was a good day.”
Fic collab by @kkruml, @whiskynottea, and @smoakingwaffles
A/N: SORRY for the delay in the posting of this chapter. Life happened and my writing had to be pushed on the back burner for a little bit. I’m so thankful everyone was patient with me and I hope it was worth the wait.
XX-Waffles
Previously
Her eyes met Jamie’s once more, and they shared one last smile before she turned back towards the direction of her flat. Claire and Perdy walked home together, their gate a bit slower than usual. Claire recounted the flurry of events that afternoon, smiling as she replayed his laugh and easy smile in her mind. She shook her head and laughed a little as she thought of the mess of artwork strewn about the flat.
She heard a soft whine and when she looked down at Perdy, she saw her tail unusually calm, and her brown eyes looking up at Claire.
She tilted her head as she took in Perdy’s face, nodding, “I know love, I’d like to see them again, too.”
Chapter 3: The Painter by @smoakingwaffles
The black canvas was staring him in the face. Gently he dipped the paint brush into the white paint, drawing with a delicate touch, the landscape he was painting - or rather supposed to be painting- but it was not how he wanted it to look.
Sighing, he closed his eyes, turning his head towards the clock.
4:20.
Dropping the paintbrush onto the tray of his easel, he heard Pongo let out a small whine.
“I ken, Pongo, we will go fer a walk in a wee bit.”
His chocolate lab released a small whimper, and rested his head back out the window.
The noisy streets of Glasgow were hustling with the commuters taking their commutes home -- the trains, the car honks, the soft mumble of the voices, normally would give Jamie inspiration to finish this piece.
Except -- artist’s block is a real thing, and currently, Jamie was struggling, hard.
“Och. Boy. Tis’ not turning out how I would like it to.”
Pongo turned and titled his brown head, sticking out his tongue and licking his nose, resuming his spot at the window. Jamie smiled softly at his furry companion, and picked up the paint brush once more. The soft strokes finally finding a rhythm as he painted the canvas.
The whimsical chime of the clock struck five and was accompanied by a pitter patter of paws as Pongo ran across the room biting his leash and putting it at Jamie’s feet.
Jamie chuckled as he dipped the paint brush into the water, and back onto the tray of the easel. Pongo continually whined at his feet as Jamie scratched right behind his ear.
“Alright, alright, ye furry dolt! We’re going for a walk.”
Pongo barked at him and sat still as Jamie attached the leash and grabbed his jacket as they made their way to the door.
Pongo trotted faithfully next to Jamie’s left hip -- like always. Ears perking as they rounded out of the building, and crossing the street to the park.
They took this walk daily, and at this point, Jamie was sure Pongo knew exactly where to go: the leash- just a formality as to not scare other people in the park who might not like a canine.
Jamie’s grasp on the leash was light, and Pongo lead them down through the east entrance, straight towards the the pond.
He felt the small buzz of his phone in his pocket and looked down for just a second and then felt a mop of brown hair in his face. His pants soaked by the cool water of the pond.
““IFRINN!” Jamie stammered.
“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!” an English accent murmured at the same time. He brushed a piece of his red hair out of his face to find a lass next to him- her teeth chattering and body trembling in the cold water.
““Ah Dhia! Are ye alright?” Jamie asked. He grabbed her by the shoulders taking a quick glance over her body.
“It’s s-s-so cold!” The sassenach stammered, her wet clothing sticking to her petite frame.
“Och, aye lass, let’s get ye out o’ the water and get ye dry.” The lady nodded at him, and then a look of shock ran over her face.
“P-P-Perdy!”
Jamie scurried around both of them, looking for his own dog.
“Pongo! Look what ye did ye wee dolt!” He laughed as he found his chocolate companion next to a lovely yellow lab. Jamie shook his head and placed his palm on his forehead in exasperation and a slight embarrassment. “I’m sorry lass, seems my dog was lookin’ to meet a lass, aye?”
Jamie shook his head and opened his eyes to find warm, whisky colored eyes staring at him, warming the depths of his soul. She laughed and his core warmed in the center even more. Her laugh was music to his ears.
“I hope this doesna seem too forward, but my flat is just around the corner. Can I offer up a cup of hot tea and some dry clothing?” Jamie asked as they stepped almost in unison along the path behind the dogs.
“That would be lovely, thank you.” The thick English accent said.
Jamie smiled at her, tilting his head slightly to the side and sticking out a hand, “I’m Jamie.”
Her hands found his - warm and solid- sending a spark through his body. “I’m Claire.”
He gestured to the right, as they made their way towards his flat, trailing behind two dogs as their tails danced in unison.
The fire crackled in the distance and a new found friend, he dared to admit, joined him on his couch. She was dry in his old university sweatshirt and lucky enough for him had a pair of his sister’s yoga pants in his flat. Claire- he reminded himself, was sipping a cup of oolong. Her company made him the happiest he had been in a long time.
“… And then, out of nowhere, Pongo just bolts down the pathway, towards Perdy,” He laughed as he watched her sip on her mug. “Next thing I know, his leash is wrapped around my legs and I’m staring at the top o’ yer head as we splashed into the water!”
He watched as she laughed and it made him blush. It was slightly alarming to him, just how natural this was for him- whatever it was between him and Claire. He liked it- enjoyed how it made him feel so much so, that he didn’t want her to leave.
They talked for a while, exchanging formalities and small talk, telling stories about their lives. She told him how she was a doctor-- but truly she was a surgeon, and how she enjoyed the adrenaline rush of surgery and how she could change people’s lives in the own two palms of her hands. He talked about his art and how he was preparing for the large gallery show in a mere couple of weeks. He showed her the half finished canvases scattered throughout his flat- some better works than others, but seemingly with her whisky eyes large and a small smile she had seemed to love them all.
He rolled a belly laugh as Claire admitted that she and Perdy walked by his flat daily, and how it was shocking how they -- nor the dogs, had ever run into each other.
He caught her finishing the last bit of her tea, and it caused her to blush in her cheeks, the soft tips of ears turning red, too. Claire let out a breath he thought that sounded of one in disappointment and placed her mug on the coffee table.
Ah dhia, it is time for them to leave.
Claire stood, turning to the clothes as they dried in front of the fire and Jamie held up his hand. “Ye better wear what you’ve got on. Yer clothing would start yer teeth rattlin again.”
She let out a sigh and gathered her clothing, placing it in the bag he handed her.
“Come on, Perdy.” Claire said as they started to head towards the door. They both looked at the dogs, and as Claire grabbed Perdy’s leash Pongo let out a small whimper, and Perdy reluctantly trotted to the door.
Feeling brave, Jamie placed a light hand on Claire’s shoulder, causing her to turn and face him. “I… I canna say I enjoyed the early springtime swim, but it was sae lovely meetin’ ye, Claire.” He admitted as he grinned from ear to ear.
Claire smiled back it him, as Perdy sat by her feet. “Yes, I agree.”
“Maybe next time we can meet somewhere a bit dryer, aye?” He blurted out with a hint of hope as he reached behind Claire and opened the door.
“Yes, I’d like that.” Claire responded as she tugged on Perdy’s leash and she followed right behind her. Pongo let out another whine as he came to sit by Jamie’s feet. “And it was lovely to meet you too, Pongo!”
His eyes met hers once more and he gave her a lopsided smile and they turned to leave.
Jamie closed the door as he rubbed Pongo’s head.
“Pongo, I think we’ve found what we’ve been searchin’ for.”
Thank you to everyone for your support of this collaboration!
@whiskynottea knocked it out of the park with Pongo in chapter 1! Chapter 2 comes to you via @kkruml! Chapter 3 will come from the mind of @smoakingwaffles!
poster by @smoakingwaffles
Previously
Chapter 1
Curly brown hair, jeans, plaid shirt…
Plaid shirt?! That’s the one!
Where are they going? They’re heading to the park! We have to hurry up!
Oh God, it’s still four thirty. Jamie won’t let his brushes down until five o’clock. We’re screwed – don’t tell Jamie I said that.
It’s four thirty, but what if it was five? What if I move the pointer just a little bit…
Yes that’s it.
The clock chimes and I’m jumping around Jamie, before going to stand in front of our door.
Let’s go, Jamie! Leash in mouth, paw on the doorknob.
Move your lazy ass!
It’s so good that Jamie doesn’t understand me when I talk like this. He would ban me from going out if he did, I’m pretty sure he would.
Is he coming? Yes, he’s coming. He finally got up from his stool.
Jeans, sweater, long coat… Perfect. That hair, though… Well, hers was not better! She could hide a month’s treats in there!
And off we go! We’re going to meet them!
My perfect blondie, we’re coming for you and your curly wig human!
Chapter 2. Brown and Blonde Haired Lasses (by @kkruml)
“Well, what say you, Perdy?” She smiled as she held two bouquets to Perdy’s wet, cold nose. “Shall we go with the Forget-me-not or the Scottish Primrose?”
Big brown eyes looked up at her, her tail wagging in the air as her nose nudged the Forget-Me-Nots.
“Excellent choice, love.” She stroked Perdy’s head, soaking up the warmth of her yellow fur.
They had been inseparable since they found each other. Gail and Joe’s yellow Labrador, Sandy, had a litter, and they surprised her with a puppy as a birthday gift. She had her choice, and she gravitated towards the runt- she was happy and bounced around on her puppy paws, seemingly unaware she was half the size of her siblings. She fit Claire just perfectly- they were two peas in a pod.
Their post-shift walk was her favorite part of the day. They always took the same path, Alexandra Parade. The buildings were a charming mix of brick and stone, with a line of buildings with oversized windows framed by stonework. Streams of sunlight flooded those windows, and she found herself wondering what the insides of those flats must look like. What gorgeous light, she always thought.
They would wander the park, meandering from the path to the various flower beds, before eventually ending up at the flower stand. They bought a new bouquet each week.
Perdy would have her say and Claire would nod, give a good scratch behind Perdy’s ear and then she would hand over the money to the vendor, the same one each week for the past three years. He wore a flat brimmed cap, always touching the brim in greeting as he saw them walk down the path towards his stand. He was an older gentleman with kind eyes that had become a part of their routine, and always gave Perdy an extra pat on the head, and kept a pocket full of treats just for her each day.
Today she was let out of work surprisingly early, a quiet day and impressive list of overtime hours for the week put her at the top of the list to be cut. Not that she minded, it was a beautiful day and the flowers were just coming into bloom. She was grateful for the fresh air and the walk, the perfect way to empty her head from the stress of the hospital and replace the sterile smell of surgery with the aroma of freshly cut grass.
Perdy would be happy for the early walk. Claire strolled the few blocks from the hospital to her flat, stopping just long enough to change her clothing and leash Perdy before continuing onto their favorite park. It was a warm spring day but she felt a slight chill with the wind, and grabbed a plaid flannel from the front closet as she whistled for Perdy.
“What do you say, shall we head towards the pond? I saw a few new ducks taking up residency by the lily pads.” She smiled as she turned back towards the path, Perdy bouncing alongside her. While the flowers were Claire’s favorite part of their walk, she knew Perdy loved the water, a Labrador in every sense of the word- she loved to jump in, splash around, and chase the ducks through the lily pads.
They padded down towards the water, Perdy’s steps quickening as her tag wagged with anticipation. It was at that moment that out of the corner of her eye, Claire caught the flash of brown fur as she felt something tangle around her legs. She was knocked off balance as a solid figure with red curls pushed them both into the cool spring water.
“IFRINN!”
“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!” Her teeth chattered as she splashed around, trying to find ground under her feet.
“Ah Dhia, are ye alright?” A thick Scottish voice boomed next to her. Large, warm hands grabbed her firmly by the shoulders, and she looked up to see big blue eyes and red hair, drenched but still curly.
“It’s s-s-so cold!” She muttered as she shook, clothes soaked and clinging to her.
“Och, aye lass, let’s get ye out o’ the water and get ye dry.” His voice was warm and she nodded as she felt the cold creep into her bones.
“P-P-Perdy!” She looked around, seeing her yellow Labrador at the water’s edge, tail wagging in unison with a dog next to her, a charming chocolate lab.
“Pongo! Look what ye did ye wee dolt!” His voice was a mix of humor and exasperation as he eyed the dogs standing together. “I’m sorry lass, seems my dog was lookin’ to meet a lass, aye?”
They looked back to each other and laughed. His arm steadied her as they made their way towards the path, both dogs watching them- tails wagging.
“I hope this doesna seem too forward, but my flat is just around the corner. Can I offer up a cup of hot tea and some dry clothing?”
She paused for a moment, contemplating the walk back to her place in her current condition and shuddered. “That would be lovely, thank you.”
He held out one hand, smiling, “I’m Jamie.”
She reached for his, slightly shaking, grateful to find a warm palm. “I’m Claire.”
Leashes in hand, they made their way towards his flat. All the while, she watched their dogs’ tails dancing in unison.
She was warm, dry, and drinking a perfect cup of oolong tea, her favorite. A small fire cackled in the fireplace as he joined her on the couch, a respectable distance from her, but close enough where they could speak in a slightly lowered voice.
“… And then, out of nowhere, Pongo just bolts down the pathway, towards Perdy,” his Scottish lilt caught the name and it made her smile. “Next thing I know, his leash is wrapped around my legs and I’m staring at the top o’ yer head as we splashed into the water!”
They laughed together and she noticed how easy it came, how their voices mixed together in perfect unity. She caught him looking at her more than once, a smile forming on his lips each time and it made her blush. It had been some time since she’d felt flush from a man’s attention, and she smiled back as she quietly enjoyed the flutter of her heart in her chest. Claire cupped the tea with both hands, savoring the aroma, the heat from the fire, and the company. It was a perfect mix, and she didn’t want it to end.
They made small talk, exchanging small tidbits about their lives. She was a doctor- a surgeon; he was an artist, currently preparing for a large gallery showing in the coming weeks. Canvases of half-finished work were stacked everywhere and she eyed an easel in the front room, set squarely in front what must be his favorite chair. She smiled to herself as she caught the glow of light pouring through the expansive front windows- painter’s light.
They mused at the frequency in which she passed by his flat, never having run into each other. How funny that the two dogs seemed to want to meet each other, and they were helpless to stop them.
When she finished the last sip of her tea, Claire exhaled- part contentment and part disappointment. It was time to go home. She slowly shifted from the couch, eyeing her clothing still strung in front of the fire, small pools of water just barely drying against the tile.
He caught her stare, holding up one hand. “Ye better wear what you’ve got on. Yer clothing would start yer teeth rattlin’ again.” His voice had a humor to it and he smiled.
She sighed in relief. She was cocooned in heat and the smell of what must be his aftershave, and happy to stay there. She gathered her clothing, placing it in a bag he offered. “Come on, Perdy.”
They padded towards the door slowly, eyes on the dogs as a distraction. When she reached for the handle, she felt his hand light on her shoulder and she turned to face him.
“I… I canna say I enjoyed the early springtime swim, but it was sae lovely meetin’ ye, Claire.” His smile reached his eyes and she smiled back instinctively.
Laughing, she nodded, “Yes, I agree.”
“Maybe next time we can meet somewhere a bit dryer, aye?” His voice was hopeful as he held the door open for her, waiting.
“Yes, I’d like that.” She smiled as she gently tugged on the leash, Perdy slowly following behind her.
She heard Pongo whine softly, and she looked down at him, “And it was lovely to meet you too, Pongo.”
Her eyes met Jamie’s once more, and they shared one last smile before she turned back towards the direction of her flat. Claire and Perdy walked home together, their gate a bit slower than usual. Claire recounted the flurry of events that afternoon, smiling as she replayed his laugh and easy smile in her mind. She shook her head and laughed a little as she thought of the mess of artwork strewn about the flat.
She heard a soft whine and when she looked down at Perdy, she saw her tail unusually calm, and her brown eyes looking up at Claire.
She tilted her head as she took in Perdy’s face, nodding, “I know love, I’d like to see them again, too.”
Hey guys! This new story is the result of a collaboration between @kkruml, @smoakingwaffles and @whiskynottea and it’s inspired by the 101 Dalmatians!! Hope you’ll enjoy it as much as we do!
Chapter 1. Chocolate and Ginger (by @whiskynottea)
Hello!
My name is Pongo, and I am the most adorable chocolate Labrador you’ve ever seen, if I may say so myself.
My ancestors were retrievers from the north. They lived in a faraway land, called Canada. You know, beautiful lakes, snow, waterfalls. I’m sure you’ve watched documentaries about it. I certainly have.
What was I saying?
Oh yes. My ancestors. They were trained to bring game back to hunters and this was what they mostly did. That’s why I have a soft mouth. But I don’t do that. Dead birds and rabbits are not my kind of game, thank you very much. Thank God, Jamie – my human – isn’t a hunter. But he does have a small red squeaking ball and I retrieve it faster than any other dog in the park.
Not to boast, but I’m the best. And he knows that, every time I return the ball to his feet, wiggling my tail.
Ah… Jamie. Let me talk to you about him, shall I?
I’ve know the man all my life. Three years and I think I counted more than 1000 days in them. But I might be wrong. I’m a dog after all, not Albert Einstein.
Anyway.
Jamie found me when I was a little puppy, deserted on the street. The people that bought me, they surely didn’t know that dogs bark. And cry. And pee. And poo. I think they believed I was like a moving stuffed animal or something. Every time I tried to talk to them, they hushed me. And when I was lonely at night and I cried… Well, they abandoned me. During winter. In the cold, freezing Glasgow.
Sometimes humans are worse than lemurs. Do you know the lemurs, that steal your food? Not the one that stars in ‘Magadascar’ and likes to move it. The others, the real ones. How do I know what they do? I’m a dog! I love watching TV!
So yes, some humans are worse than lemurs. And I don’t like having my food stolen AT ALL, mind that.
Fortunately, these people left me outside Jamie’s apartment building. He found me crying at night and he took me in. Next day he plastered posters with my picture – and I was looking adorable – and the word ‘FOUND’ on top of my head, but no one sought me. So Jamie kept me. The man was lucky, wasn’t he?
Lucky, but sometimes stupid.
He thought he was funny, but I’m saying stupid. Why? He almost named me Cotton from the Cottonelle toilet paper advertisement! And I say almost, because Murtagh, his godfather, hit him on the head when he voiced this thought. I guess that hitting a human on the head brings some sense back to him, because Jamie named me Pongo after that. And we’ve stayed together in his little apartment in Glasgow ever since.
I love our house. It is such a mess, with canvases around the living room and an easel on the corner, in front of Jamie’s chair. He has many paints and he calls them all with different names. The acrylic paint, the oil paint, the watercolor paint. But if you want to know, they are all the same. And he hates when I eat them. If you ever meet Jamie don’t try to eat his paints. The pencils either – he hates that as well.
Jamie is an artist. And I am a kind of an artist myself, you know. I’ve done this masterpiece with my paws – one purple, one blue, one yellow and one green. It was beautiful. Jamie thought that he might bring something of himself in it as well, so he brushed both hands with black paint and placed them between my paws. It is so good that we hung it above the couch, where we snuggle every evening. Even Jamie’s sister, Jenny, was speechless for a moment when she first saw it. Then she said “Are ye out of yer mind, brother?” She definitely liked it, to think that Jamie got out of his mind when he thought of this. As you may understand, I couldn’t let Jamie take all the fame for our work and I barked that it was my idea. Jenny scratched my ears, acknowledging my brilliance.
Every second weekend, Jamie and I ride to Lallybroch to see Jenny and her family. Being in the car is awful, but I always stick my head out of the window and feel the wind.
Have you ever tried that? It feels GREAT!
Anyway, Lallybroch is a doll. I can be free there, running on the green grass and eating all the wildflowers without anyone yelling at me. Jamie never lets me eat the things I spot in the park. He says it’s not safe. But in Lallybroch everything is safe!
The only human that really understands my happiness when I roll or run down the hill is the little one – wee Jamie. He runs with me – sometimes he rides me but I’m not a big fan of this particular game – and we play together. These weekends are the best. And I get far more treats from everyone, especially when I give them my foot. I don’t know why, but that gets them excited and they make the funniest faces. Wait until I turn around myself, I always think. Everybody is squeaking when I do that trick and Jamie gets so proud that his chest expands so much I believe it will tear his shirt up.
So… yes. My life is great. I guess you love me already but hold your horses. My human is Jamie and I don’t change him for the world.
There’s just one thing…
It would be great to have a mate. All these hours that Jamie paints, I have no one to play with. And I can’t deny that the possibility of my own little furry balls running around the house is quite enticing. I am a grown dog, you know.
As we speak, Jamie’s painting on a black canvas. A series of lines and smudges dot the surface… Oh now he’s huffing, and his red locks have shaded his eyes – that’s always a bad sign, I’m telling you. I think he needs a mate too, to take his hair away from his eyes.
What am I doing right now? I’m lying on my fluffy black pillow, watching out of our long window.
What time is it?
Oh, still four twenty. I have to wait for the clock to chime five o’clock, to take my beautiful black leash and push Jamie to the door so we can go out for our evening walk.
Living with Jamie is usually fun, but when he’s drawing his things paying no attention to me I get so bored!
We have to find company. But if I wait for Jamie to do that… We would stay bachelors for the rest of our lives.
Not that he’s not handsome. Well, he’s not as handsome as I am, but for a human I’d say he’s pretty great. He’s taller than the most, with more muscles. I’m sure he can beat everyone up if I get him into a fight. And the girls, they all look at him like he’s a big catch. He can’t see that, but I can. I’m not a bulldog – no offense mates but you’re not that smart.
But Jamie is stubborn. Have I told you that? Very stubborn. Every time he comes back home from a date and we’re alone on our couch he rubs my belly and says “No, Pongo. She wasn’t the one either.”
Where is this one? I’m getting frustrated.
But wait a minute! If he can’t find her, I will do it! And I will choose my own mate, too. Let me see what’s going on at the street.
Hmm…
Old lady with her little Maltese – no, too old.
Young girl with – Oh why do I even consider it? Too young!
Well, let me see this one. She is… different. The long brown skirt, the turtleneck black blouse… No. She won’t do either.
Now what is this?! High heels, long coat, hair perfectly coiffured… Let me see my mate as well… No. She’ll definitely not roll with me in Lallybroch. I have to say no.
Oooh. That isn’t as easy as I expected! We’ll stay alone in this flat forever!
Just... Wait a minute! What do my beautiful round eyes see?
Oh yes, she’s perfect. Blonde, long legs, perfect eyes…
Let me see the human, too.
Curly brown hair, jeans, plaid shirt…
Plaid shirt?! That’s the one!
Where are they going? They’re heading to the park! We have to hurry up!
Oh God, it’s still four thirty. Jamie won’t let his brushes down until five o’clock. We’re screwed – don’t tell Jamie I said that.
It’s four thirty, but what if it was five? What if I move the pointer just a little bit…
Yes that’s it.
The clock chimes and I’m jumping around Jamie, before going to stand in front of our door.
Let’s go, Jamie! Leash in mouth, paw on the doorknob.
Move your lazy ass!
It’s so good that Jamie doesn’t understand me when I talk like this. He would ban me from going out if he did, I’m pretty sure he would.
Is he coming? Yes, he’s coming. He finally got up from his stool.
Jeans, sweater, long coat… Perfect. That hair, though… Well, hers was not better! She could hide a month’s treats in there!
And off we go! We’re going to meet them!
My perfect blondie, we’re coming for you and your curly wig human!
A/N: Jamie struggles with PTSD and trauma from war.
Autumn of 2006, Scotland.
I walked through the familiar path of the hospital facilities, among the soldiers and civilians who were there to see their loved ones. It was so beautiful to see the soldiers with their families. I saw so many reunions, introductions, birthdays and other impromptu celebrations for every milestone. Walking paths surrounded the property. The gardens typically drew large crowds because of the vast flowers and plants. But lately the quaint duck pond was popular. Everything was properly maintained and nurtured. Each patient was responsible for a section of the garden.
Autumn started making its presence noticeable. The colors of the leaves reminded me of Jamie’s hair : auburn, bits of of rust mingled with sandstone. The leaves were scattered upon the ground, crunching underneath my feet as I made my way inside. Autumn proved itself to be a safe haven over and over again. Memories of laughter, happiness and love soothed my heart. Jamie and I had met on an autumn day, five years ago. I remember I was studying outside a cafe feeling the crisp in the air with my laptop perched on my lap. The crisp had turned to a chill so I began to rewrap my scarf when the wind caught my scarf. The wind carried it with the leaves. I ran after it until I ran into large arm with a firm grasp on my scarf and that arm was attached to my Jamie. The changing of the seasons allowed a sense of consistency and normalcy against the backdrop of an unpredictable Jamie.
He had come home, finally, badly wounded by war, with a scarred back and a severely injured leg. I was by his side every day seeing his slow recovery, tensing with the way he pressed his lips as he was doing exercises to walk properly again. His physical therapy typically lasted an hour but that bloody Scot was determined and stubborn, always overdoing it. He would go on for at least ten more minutes after his session ended and as much as I admired his tenacity, his mending body needed rest.
Thankfully I wasn’t alone. Jenny was a familiar and steady presence as well, bringing him drawings from his nephews and nieces. We reminisced and talked about plans for the future, in hopes of spurring on his recovery. I don’t know who is more adamant about Jamie’s steadfast recovery - Jamie or his sister. Once that woman put her mind to something, there was no changing it. Exactly like her younger brother.
The early days in the hospital were quite alarming because Jamie wasn’t fighting, he wasn’t determined to get better. He argued with the staff, became gaunt from not eating and refused medication. The healing wasn’t important to him, something that impacted everyone around him. He was curt with Jenny and I but he didn’t really listen to us. Until one day Jenny turned right back on him. She angrily grabbed the handles of his wheelchair and pushed him out, into the hospital garden. Before exiting she said over her shoulder, “Excuse us for a minute Claire, I have to help my brother remove his head from his arse.” I never found out what Jenny did or said exactly, but from then on Jamie’s anger subsided, he started eating properly, gained weight and took the necessary medication.
Even though the progress in Jamie’s physical health was obvious, his mental health was the thing that worried me. It was too much to handle at the young age of twenty four. He wouldn’t talk about what he had witnessed, nor speak about what he had actually done. I knew carrying all that weight was beginning to suppress him. The horrors of war he had witnessed haunted him day and night. Thankfully the staff knew how to calm him at night and I could do the same during the day. The facility had so many unexpected sounds and those would often send him to the floor shaking.So I made him promise that one day that silence would be broken. I would wait, until he’d be ready.
Making my way inside I was greeted with a few familiar faces. Visiting so often I got to know a few of the patients here interacting with them was a welcomed bonus. I spotted him outside one of the hospital corridors, sitting in his wheelchair, with an empty look on his face. I didn’t know if he was lost in thought or just tired.
I took a deep breath and walked to him. I didn’t know what version of him I would encounter today. I always treaded lightly in my movement and topic of conversation.
Some days he was more unresponsive than others, not giving me more than a glance. Other days he even smiled at me. No matter what he did, I persisted, trying to help, knowing that he would get better in time. The smiles that he did give me were worth the sorrow and pain.
Today seemed to be a good day. Jamie turned his head, smiling, he saw me. I approached him with a grin on my face, coming to sit on a bench next to him,. He didn’t talk but at least he acknowledged I was there, he took my hand into his, and squeezed it gently.
I closed my eyes, feeling him as I thought about the topic of our conversation.
Sometimes I would talk to him about my day. “I mended a broken arm today” or “I helped deliver a baby this morning”.
Most days, however, I talked to him about the time before, when we met.
Today, I decided to tell him about a patient who was too scared to let me place an IV through her veins, and the ingenious way I got to do it.
“And I told her if I don’t do this now…” suddenly I was interrupted by Jamie grabbing my hand, with a determined look on his face.
“Sassenach… I want to…” he began to say, trying to get up from the wheelchair. A feat I just seen a few weeks prior.
I held his hand, steadying him as he pushed off the armrest of the chair. He exhaled hard, finding his full height and his eyes met mine. We stayed together motionless as time stood still. I saw the light in his beautiful blue eyes, something I hadn’t seen since his return.
Feelings came all at once and I couldn’t keep track- gratitude, elation, joy, relief, comfort, satisfaction, pride, and love. The man I fell in love with all those years before was coming back to me. Jamie hugged me and I could feel his tears falling onto my shirt.
We went for a short walk around the hospital, keeping our steps small for Jamie to be comfortable. Seeing him smiling and engaging into conversation brought a flicker of hope in my heart. He never let our entwined hands separate.
When it was time for me to leave, it didn’t pain as much as before. Today was different. Jamie was different. He was engaged with me and sought me out more than before. His touch never left during this visit too.
“Thank you, Sassenach.” he didn’t need to tell me why he was thankful, the fact was unspoken as well as my response.
The Outlander Fandom Project is a side blog open to everyone in the fandom who has collaborated, is collaborating or plans to collaborate with like-minded bloggers.
Have you always wanted to collaborate but never figured out the logistics of such a project?
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It’s time for the tale of @scotsmanandsassenach to be told…
We are three young bloggers that are each as different as can be. We work, we study, we have young families. We have different interests, different opinions, different ideas, different skill sets. Each of us even live in different countries. Yet, all three of us love Outlander. More specifically, we love the love between Jamie and Claire. We can (and do!) talk and cry and yell and squeal about what it is between those two. We decided that our skills sets would compliment each others and that we should collaborate… as a result SANDS was born.
It’s a wonderful story, right? If we’re to be completely honest we have to admit that this blog is actually the result of our inability to successfully create a side blog that all three of us could access. The good news is that the time that has passed since this blog came to be is time that we have used wisely. We now know how to create and utilize a side blog and this time we want everyone to join us.
The Outlander Fandom Project. A collaboration within a collaboration. Let us explain:
The @outlanderfandomproject is a platform for members of the Outlander fandom to come together, create and share… to collaborate (put that on a t-shirt, yeah?).
The concept is simple: you get in contact with someone that you would like to collaborate with. Create something together. Post it on @outlanderfandomproject.
The type of content created and posted can be anything from gif sets to fan fiction, light-hearted comedy to character analysis… truly anything so long as it is Outlander-related.
We know that Droughtlander can be… oh, we’ll just say it shall we? It can be boring. But, this is our fandom. We need to make it what we want it to be. So let’s make it interesting. Let’s make it entertaining. Let’s collaborate.
Send us a DM and we will add you to the Outlander Fandom Project. Alternatively you can simply drop content in the submission box to be posted at any time.
The Finer Details:
There are only three rules. 1) The content posted must be the result of a collaborative effort between you and at least one other person, 2) any confronting content must include relevant warnings or tags, and 3) there must be no personal opinions posted on this side blog (if you are not sure about whether your content meets these requirements simply send SANDS a DM and we can discuss).
When posting content you may do so anonymously or include links to your own personal blogs. Either is fine. There is no such thing as too much self-promotion.
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