#;mod gotham

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Scream!

Modern Glasgow AU

--

For all the time that Claire Fraser had spent at Lallybroch over the years, the silence of early mornings still surprised her.

Newly settled as they were at the house - the bairns were adjusting well, enjoying unpacking their boxes and finding new homes for their favorite books and toys and spending much more time with their Murray cousins - and glad as she was that they’d made the change from the hustle and bustle of Glasgow and their lovely but cramped flat...Lallybroch mornings were so bloody quiet.

She hadn’t been sleeping well lately - and in the half-light of silent dawn, she absently rubbed her belly and the ever-growing swell of Bairn Five. Jamie (and Fergus) had been watching her like a hawk, stubbornly not letting her lift anything heavy, pushing her to sit on a stool and supervise both the packing and unpacking of all their things.

It didn’t matter that she wasn’t fragile. It didn’t matter that she could pick up a book or a vase or fold Brianna’s jumpers in a box.

They worried for her. And she loved them all the more for it.

Downstairs the house was still asleep. They had chosen the large guest room on the second floor as their bedroom - William and Fergus were thrilled to share Jamie’s boyhood bedroom on the third floor (though Fergus, at seventeen, would be leaving for university before they knew it and William would have the room to himself), Bree and Faith had settled into their own room on the fourth floor, next door to their cousins Maggie and Kitty. It was still a bit unsettling to be so far apart from the bairns - accustomed as they were to sleeping off of one long hallway in their Glasgow flat - though the privacy did have its appeal...

Claire stretched, and rolled on her side to face her sleeping husband. Gently she touched the furrow between his brows - he was still bearing so much stress, even though he’d relinquished much of his responsibilities at the printshop in order to move here full-time. For the dear man worried about her, and Bairn Five, and her health, and how well the other four bairns would adjust to their new life, and whether Fergus would be accepted to his uni of choice, and how he could integrate himself into the day-to-day running of the farm without stepping on Ian and Jenny’s toes...

...today was his birthday. Today, of all days, he deserved to relax.

Slowly, Claire traced kisses on Jamie’s face. His forehead, the bridge of his nose, his fluttering eyelids...

...when she reached his lips, he kissed her back. Slow. Deep.

His hand rucked up her sleep shirt, settling on her bare hip, thumb tracing the skin stretched for Bairn Five.

“Are ye well?” he breathed against her lips.

She smiled. “Very well.”

His hand darted lower, cupping her. “Mmpmm. I can tell.”

She gasped, and he swallowed it.

“Do you have any idea what you mean to me, Claire?” he whispered. “Do you?”

She quivered. Shakily raised one hand between them, and dug her fingers into the thick hair at the base of his neck.

He pressed a bit harder. Bit her parted lips.

“Yes.” Her eyes closed, the words almost a struggle to form on her lips. He nuzzled her neck, licking, sucking, biting. Humming in contentment against her racing pulse.

“And do you...have any idea...what you mean to me, Jamie?”

Her eyes snapped open, and she pulled his head up so that she could see him. Face flushed, mouth parted, breath heaving. “Do you, my love?”

“I hope to prove it to you every day, Claire.” His eyes suddenly serious, pupils dilated in the growing dawn.

With every ounce of her will she reached between them to push away his hand. Threw back the quilt. Crossed her arms and pulled off her shirt. Her skin prickled in the cool air.

“Bolt the door,” she instructed.

He sprang up, licking his hand as he crossed the room, turned the lock, and pushed down his boxers almost in one fluid motion.

She pushed his pillow to the center of their mattress. He lay on his back, looking up at her. Smoldering with love and want and deep, deep joy.

She settled on top of him, and his hands rose to cup her belly.

“Happy birthday,” she whispered. Then slowly, slowly bent down to kiss him. “And stay quiet.”

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Prompt: Forever young.

Claire stared down at her hands, splayed across the dark blue quilt of her and Jamie’s bed.

She heard the rustle of his shirt as he pulled it over his head and threw it on the floor.

“Jamie?”

Now one boot thunked to the floor, too. “Aye?”

She counted the tendons, dark spots, and dark blue veins visible beneath her skin. “When you look at me, do you see an old woman?”

His other boot thunked to the floor, and the mattress dipped as he slid beside her, naked.

“What’s this?”

She clenched her fists, not looking at him. “I’m past sixty. My skin sags. I have spots.”

“So? I’m near sixty. My hair has silver in it. I get winded now more than I like.”

“Yes, but you’re still...you. Just older.”

He rested his hand - the tendons and veins prominent, too - atop hers.

“As are you, my Sassenach. You’re still you. Older. Wiser. And the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

She huffed, pleased. “You don’t have your spectacles on.”

He squeezed her hand, then slid off the bed, opening the bureau and searching for his nightshirt. “I dinnae need them. When I see you in my mind, I see the half-naked woman bringing my shoulder back into joint. Only now I have today’s and yesterday’s memories to go wi’ it.”

She watched him dress. Remembering the first time she’d seen him do so - the morning after their wedding. and remembering the thousands of mornings in between.

She pulled back the covers. Crossed the room to hold him. “I feel young when I’m with you,” she whispered.

He hummed happily. “You remind me to never stop being the lad who won your heart.”

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Over my dead body.

(set shortly after this story, in the aftermath of 05x12 “Never My Love”)

Fitful sleep would be a generous way to describe how they had passed the night - coiled tightly around each other, sharing breath, sheltered from the storms outside and within.

Safe.

Jamie peppered her face with tiny, breathless kisses. 

“Today - you and me,” he breathed into her ear - knee between her thighs, arms wrapped around her waist and shoulders, an anchor in the dark. “Wi’ the door locked and the window open.”

His voice - his touch - electrified her. Hairs on her arms stood on end, breath shallowed, ankles curled around his. “Yes.” Her lips formed the word, but she didn’t bother using her voice. For he knew.

He shifted then, careful of the sticky salve he’d rubbed into the wounds on her breasts, thumb stroking her shoulder. “Do you remember...” 

She turned her face, butting the end of her nose against his. “Paris,” she whispered. Felt his pulse quicken.

“The day we spent, like this.” He dug his thumbnail into the bone of her hip. “After your ordeal.”

Sumptuous drapes, and gilded plaster on the walls, and a bedroom the size of the Big House. Food left on trays outside the enormous doors. 

“You know I do.” She kissed the cleft in his chin, rasping her cheeks against his stubble. “You always know how to care for me.”

He pulled back a bit, suddenly serious. “I vowed to care for you and protect you when we wed, Claire.”

Faintly against the starlight pouring through their open window, she could just see the outline of his shoulders - always burdened with so many worries - and the wild tangle of his hair. She sat up, reached to cup his cheek.

“I know, Jamie. You do. You don’t need to tell me. I know.”

“Until the last breath in my body.”

He was coiled tight - with exhaustion, with rage, with fear.

“I’m very glad of it, Jamie. I am.”

Still he seemed unsettled. So gently she pushed him onto his back, there on their mattress. Rose above him, guided by touch. Brought their bodies together. Leaned down to kiss him. Showing him - as he had shown her - what both their hearts knew to be true.

--

Dawn.  

Jamie had placed the bench from her mirror in front of the windowsill, so that she could lean her elbows against it, and watch the sun rise, and smell the rain that had fallen in the night.

It was still early - nobody was out in the dooryard yet, though before too long Missus Bug and Lizzie would make their way to the barn, swinging empty pails for the day’s milk and eggs.

The breeze lifted her hair from her shoulders, and carried the scent of pines to Jamie, sprawled naked in the bed.

He was still, but clearly awake - and he watched her turn around to face him.

“What are you thinking about?”

He stretched and yawned. “Fergus had asked for my help wi’ the roof of his cabin. There’s a leak to fix. I’d send Roger Mac, but - ”

“But what? Send him.”

He pursed his lips, scratching his belly absently. “I suppose. He needs to learn sometime.”

“Dare I say - I think it would be easier for him to learn without you being there to teach him.”

His brow furrowed. “Are you saying that I’m intimidating, Sassenach?”

She smiled, and his heart soared to see it. “Perhaps. Sometimes.”

He opened his arms to her, and she raced into them, dropping Jamie’s plaid from her shoulders to the floor. They held each other, breathing, listening to the birds greet the new day.

“Never wi’ you, I hope?” he whispered.

She kissed the side of his neck. “You protect me - and your family - by all means necessary. I love you all the more for it.”

He sighed.

Somewhere downstairs, a door slammed shut.

She pulled the quilt up and over their heads.

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Devil Woman [Song, Cliff Richard]

set shortly before the end of Book 1

Slowly Jamie sipped his spoonful of soup. I sat beside him, warm in the afternoon sun streaming through the window of our room. Watching. Joyous.

“This tastes better than yesterday’s,” he remarked, stirring the mixture of broth and barley and beef.

“It’s the same as yesterday’s,” I replied softly. “Brother Anselm told me as much, when I fetched it for you in the kitchen. It just means that you’re aware of it more. Enjoying it more.”

He swallowed another mouthful. “It’s no wonder - since you bewitched me wi’ that lavender and dirk and opium and God knows what else.”

I knew it had been risky, even foolish - but I couldn’t regret what I’d done. Because the result was right in front of me, the sun creating a fiery halo in his hair, his free hand clasped gently in mine.

“It was laudanum,” I chided softly. “And I’m not a witch. I told you as much, after Cranesmuir.”

He set down his spoon - the bowl empty - and tilted his head, looking at me thoughtfully. “Magic potions. Magic stones. From a time wi’ metal birds in the sky and pictures that talk and move. I dinna ken what ye are, Sassenach.”

“I’m yours,” I said softly.

He grinned. How my heart leapt to see it.

“Ye are. And I thank God every day for it.”

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Like father, like daughter.

Alone Together: Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 || Chapter 11 || Chapter 12 || Chapter 13 || Chapter 14 || Chapter 15 || Chapter 16 || Chapter 17 || Chapter 18 || Chapter 19

Claire crossed her legs on the couch in the living room, mindlessly leafing through a magazine. Watching - and listening - as her husband and daughter played on the carpet, Jamie sprawled on his elbows to be at eye level with Bree.

“Doh!” Brianna exclaimed, handing Jamie a square wooden block.

“Thanks,” he said sincerely, and piled it on top of the four other blocks she had already given him. “What’s next?”

Brianna’s tiny fingers grabbed for her rubber giraffe - a favorite, especially now that she was teething - and handed it over to Jamie.

“Hmm. Are we building a house for Giraffe?”

Already Brianna had grasped the next object - a board book of Goodnight Moon - and handed it to her father.

“Is this for us to read to Giraffe?”

He opened the book and began reading. 

“In the great green room, there was a telephone.”

Bree scooted closer to Jamie, now clutching her favorite toy bunny, eyes intent on the book.

“And a red balloon. And a picture of - the cow jumping over the moon.”

She leaned against Jamie’s shoulder, spellbound.

Quietly Claire pulled out her phone to take a quick snapshot of the two red heads together.

“ And there were three little bears sitting on chairs. And two little kittens, and a pair of mittens.”

A siren floated through the open window, along with the September breeze. 

Claire wished that time could stop.

“And a little toy house, and a young mouse. And a comb and a brush and a bowl full of mush.”

Jamie wrapped a strong, steady arm around his daughter’s back. Holding her close. His greatest gift.

Claire set down her magazine, and joined the two of them on the rug.

“And a quiet old lady who was whispering “hush”,” Jamie and Claire read in unison. Watching their daughter’s eyes slowly drift closed.

[imagineclaireandjamie]

The strongest hearts have the most scars. [Jeff Hood]

Sometime before dawn, Jamie Fraser gave up trying to sleep.

Quietly he slipped out of bed - careful to not disturb Claire, curled up under a pile of quilts - and crossed the floor of the Laird’s room, adding another log to the fire. Swiftly the log became alight, casting a warm glow into the room - just enough light for Jamie to lay out his plaid, pleat it, roll it, tuck his shirt into it, and buckle it around his shivering body.

Sliding into his boots, he brought the tail of his kilt around his shoulders, and returned to Claire’s bedside to kiss her temple. She stirred sleepily. “Sleep,” he murmured into her ear. “Sleep. I love you. Sleep.”

She exhaled, and settled deeper into the feather mattress. Jamie drew the quilts tighter around her back, quietly drew back, and was gone.

--

In sleep she’d turned to face the window, and she opened her eyes just as the soft gray light of dawn filtered into the room.

Already she knew Jamie was not there. In sleep she knew. 

Slowly she sat up against the headboard, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Watching the fire crackle, pushing out the late February chill.

February the twenty-seventh. 

Jamie had been quieter than usual as the date approached. And now that it was here, all she could do was give him the space he didn’t know how to ask for. And to make sure he knew just how much he was loved.

She stretched and pulled back the quilts. Steeling herself against the day.

--

She knew exactly where to find him. And he wasn’t surprised when she did.

She knelt beside him in the frozen grass. Grasped his cold hand tightly between hers. 

He wiped the frost from his mother’s headstone. Gulped a deep breath to steady himself.

“God help me, Claire, I miss her.”

Claire silently squeezed his hand.

“I miss my Da. I miss Willie. I miss my wee brother who was born asleep. And I miss our Faith.”

His nose was red - from the cold, from the tears falling down his cheeks.

The wind picked up, and she huddled against him. 

“We have their memories to strengthen us. And we are the better for it, Jamie.”

He nodded absently, not looking at her. “Aye,” he rasped. “But why does it hurt so much?”

She lay her head on his shoulder. “Because it means we are still alive.”

He crushed her to him, and wrapped his plaid around her. Shaking with emotion.

“This date has come and gone so many times now. This year it...” his voice trailed off.

“How could it not, after the year we’ve had?” She kissed away the salt on his cheek. “And yet, we endure.”

He kissed her forehead. “We do. We will. And it’s a good thing to stop and to grieve, aye?”

She nodded. “It is. We would know, wouldn’t we?”

He closed his eyes, and she gathered him to her. “I wish she could see the man that you’ve become.”

“She does, mo nighan donn. She wouldnae have sent you to me otherwise.”

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Prompt: Tapestry.

“Do you know anything about these tapestries?”

Jamie rolled over in bed to face me. “What tapestries?”

I rolled my eyes theatrically. “The ones covering the walls in this bedroom.”

“Oh. Those. We have some downstairs in the dining room, too.”

“I know. That’s a different conversation. I’m curious about these ones in here.”

Jamie lay back against the pillow, folding his hands atop his chest. “Weel, they’ve been here as long as I can remember. Da must have had them hung when he and Mam moved into the house. But they must be old.”

I sat up a bit in bed, peering across the room at the patterns leaping across the walls, drifting gently in the spring breeze wafting through the open window. “Yes - they’re a bit worn around the edges. I wonder if your uncles gave them to your parents as a wedding gift.”

Jamie snorted. “Perhaps. I’m sure my grandfather had set aside some things for her, in the eventuality of her marriage. Though he’d assumed she’d wed a Grant, or Campbell - anyone except my father.”

“I remember seeing old tapestries in castles and museums, in my time.” I had seen them - with Uncle Lamb, of course, and then periodically in my adulthood. Memory flared - a chateau my unit had taken refuge in, not far from the front lines in France, and the gorgeous tapestry fluttering in the cavernous entryway, resplendent with horses and tigers and all manner of wild beasts.

“Were they all like this, then?”

“Not quite. Not so blue, that’s for certain.”

He reached for my hand and squeezed it. “It’s the color of my Mam’s eyes. Yours too, Sassenach.”

I squeezed back. “I’m glad it makes you think of her.”

“Ach. I dinna need a bit of cloth to remember her by. Just like I dinna need anything to remember you by. But it helps.”

He sprung out of bed, then - surprising me. But swiftly he lifted the hem of one tapestry to reveal the solid wall of stone behind it and - 

“What’s that?”

He extended one hand, beckoning. “Come here.”

I slid out of bed and padded across the room, squinting. 

Then clutched my heart. “Oh my. It’s their names.”

“Aye - and the year they moved here. Hand me my dirk, Claire - let’s add ours.”

When their daughter and son-in-law purchased Lallybroch a lifetime and two hundred years later - and pushed back a decaying desk from the wall that hadn’t hung a tapestry for generations - their eyes misted with feeling. Before Roger produced a Sharpie and added their names below the faint yet clear letters:

JAMES AND CLAIRE FRASER, 1743

[imagineclaireandjamie]

In order to rescue Jamie, Claire had to make a deal with the devil by agreeing to marry Dougal at Glen Rowan Cross. When they met again in Scotland, Claire told Dougal that Jamie knew about the offer and took no issue with it. Oh, mods, to be a fly on the wall when that conversation took place...

For a long while Jamie said nothing. Claire didn’t, either - and they lay side by side, looking up at the cracked stucco ceiling in the room the monks had given to Jamie after he (and Claire, and Murtagh) had arrived half-dead in the middle of the night.

He’d been having more good days than bad this week, the cuts on his body healing at a different pace than the wounds on his soul. But at least they regularly shared a bed again, and Jamie could eat solid food twice a day without vomiting. He still drifted off to sleep at odd times, though, and she thought that now was one of those times...

“I understand.”

Claire relaxed, releasing the tension she didn’t realize she had been holding. 

“Ye had to bargain wi’ the devil for my sake - like I had to, for yours.”

Carefully Claire shifted onto her side, watching Jamie’s face. He didn’t meet her gaze, and kept looking straight up at the ceiling, watching the candle-thrown shadows dance and flicker.

“I don’t think that’s a fair comparison. What you did for me - ”

“It is. You had to imagine me dead when you made your promise. I refused to imagine you dead when I made mine. That’s why I made mine.”

Feeling suddenly uncomfortable, Claire closed her eyes. “Dougal has his faults, but he’s a far cry from Jack Randall.”

Absently Jamie’s hand drifted to his side, hovering over the place where he had cut Randall’s brand from his own body. “I cannae argue wi’ you on that one. We did what we had to, to survive. You’ve helped me understand that. And I’m grateful for what you did, because it brought you back to me.”

Gently she laid her hand on his. “And yet had I not found you, you wouldn’t have had to do what you did at Wentworth.”

Jamie twined his fingers through hers. “Aye, because I would have been dead. That’s certain.” He sighed. “Dougal would have taken you by force, too.”

Claire bristled. “Not as long as I had Murtagh with me, he wouldn’t.”

Now Jamie edged up on one elbow to face her. “Maybe so and maybe no. Maybe Murtagh would have wed ye instead.”

She had to smile at that. “I’m glad you’ve recovered your sense of humor.”

He kissed the back of her hand. “I’d be nothing wi’out you.”

She blushed. “That’s not true. You wouldn’t be here, with those new scars, had it not been for me.”

He looked straight at her, voice calm and confident. “I’d do it again, if it meant I  could wed you, and care for you, and keep you with me always.”

She swallowed, flushed.

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. “Unless you were to take up wi’ my uncle, of course.”

Heart too full for words, she could only kiss him.