#;mod mbd

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Shielded. Chapter Nine. Week 5.

Sorry that it’s been some time, hopefully this wee chapter will help to guide me back on track <3 MBD

--

Shielded: Week FIVE. Interlude:

After a quiet few days Jamie noticed a marked improvement in Claire’s mood. She still seemed tired but he’d stayed around for most of the weekend to ensure she had someone to reach out to should the nightmares rise up and render her sleepless again. But they appeared to have abated ...for the meantime.

She certainly didn’t rise, eyes rimmed red after shedding one too many tears. Which was a positive.

Though he wanted to, he didn’t instigate any further physical contact. The hug, in fact, had remained unmentioned. Clearly it had made an impression, it had opened the door, figuratively, for their heart to heart but distance had immediately been restored and he didn’t wish to press it any further for the meantime.

It felt good to know something about her, a part of her old self that she had been comfortable enough to reveal to him. They certainly had plenty of weeks to go, plenty of time for more for him to learn more. She was somewhat of an enigma, still, but her walls had begun to crumble.

Under the circumstances he knew their bond would strengthen. It was only natural for two humans in close confines to grow closer but having attempted, unsuccessfully, to downplay his own feelings he had finally come to admit (only to himself) that his blossoming feelings were growing into something more than platonic.

As he ate the porridge he’d heated in the microwave he caught sight of the lunch she’d made and left for him on the side and smiled shyly. Though he could be seen to be reading too much into it, Claire had started making his midday meals more elaborate -and- she’d started adding a dram for him too. Whether she knew it or not, she was settling into Highland life. It was as if she was always supposed to have landed here.

--

“Do ye have the flask? Sat on small bales, Jamie sat with his nearest neighbour sharing their lunch with their faces to the rare midday sun.

“Oh, aye.”

“Who is she?” Rupert joked, nudging his oldest friend and taking a sip of his hot drink. “Clearly something is on yer mind. I’ve never seen ye so...flustered.”

“How do you ken it’s a she?” He quipped back neither confirming or denying his friend's suspicions.

“There’s something going on. We’ve known one another since we were bairns, running around the place in our clouts wi’ our mothers on our tails - no’ many can read ye, Jamie Fraser, but I can see it plain on yer face. Where did you meet her?”

He didn’t have much time to think how to explain Claire without giving away too much away but there was a certain amount of relief in the idea that he could confide in someone else about his growing feelings. So far everything he’d been feeling had been kept to himself, he certainly couldn’t share them with Claire - she’d run a mile, or hide away. It wasn’t fair to put that on her yet.

“Through a friend. We havana officially met, aye, wi’ lockdown.” He fibbed, keeping his face straight as he spoke. “But he had a friend in a similar situation, alone...mostly, and he thought maybe his cupid's arrow was on target this time.”

“Has he tried this game before?”

Jamie laughed, immediately thinking of the last time he and John had been close enough to trial his terrible dating advice. “No’ so much, but there have been some suggestions. All leading nowhere of course.”

“Aye.” Nodding, Rupert knew all too well how horrid his friends dating history was. He was, as he’d learned from overhearing his wife watching ‘Friends’, like a lobster who just hadn’t met his equal. “Ye mean yer English friend, right? The policeman? Is she bonnie?”

“She’s...shy, aye? And verra bonnie. I’m not sure she feels the same for me…”

“But yer already smitten?” It was a rhetorical question, Rupert already knew the answer and there was something pleasing about it. “I dinna think ye need to worry. At this point we’ve got all the time in the world. Just keep talking, yer a charming man, Jamie, and I’m sure you’ll continue to evolve the relationship until yer able to meet. Then, when we’re free of this madness, invite her up here.”

For once his conversation seemed to have given him a good reason to have Claire in his home. At least now Rupert would have no reason to question her sudden appearance (if and when he came across her). They had managed to steer clear of an illicit meeting during the collection of the orphaned lamb but if anyone was going to find her, it was going to be Rupert.

They were quiet again for a time, the insects humming around them as they finished off their lunches. He thought back to his lingering thoughts at breakfast. The sun was nowhere near up but he had heard her moving around upstairs as he’d prepared for the day. She was always an early riser but previously it had been because bad dreams had woken her. Jamie had the feeling this morning, though, had been different. Though he had yet to ask her honestly.

“Aye, verra wise Rupert.”

‘That yer charming?” Rupert jested, nearly pushing Jamie off their makeshift bale seats as they packed away ready to start the next portion of their day.

“Weel, no’ so much about that part and more about us having more time.”

“Is she at home too?”

“I think so, yes. Like most others.”

“Do ye wish you were home too?”

“Lord no!” He exclaimed, kicking Rupert’s filth wellies. “I’m the same as ye, Rupert MacKenzie. Canna stand to be locked away wi’ no purpose.”

As the words left his mouth, his heart skipped a beat as he thought of Claire and the freedom she’d lost in the process of moving here. Yes, it was for her own safety, but he hadn’t even thought of giving her something to keep her mind occupied. Stupidly, he’d assumed she’d keep herself busy but she was no longer in her own home and it would have surely been hard to find those distractions without more assistance.

“You alright?”

“Aye,” he lied, brushing off those thoughts, self-flagellation would do him no good now, “just thinking about how hard it must be to be trapped in your own home wi’out reason or focus.”

“I’m sure there are quite a few people whose dreams just came true. Dinna fash.”

Sighing, Jamie nodded. “Yer right, plenty of hermits out there ready to sacrifice their boring office jobs for a life of working from home, right?”

“Right”

He made a mental note, though, to return home with some productive suggestions. The garden was coming along nicely, but he knew she wouldn’t be eager to leave the house - even if it was still close to the property. Instead he would need to find something indoors that was suitable. First, though, he would need to learn some more about her. Something that would clue him in as to what kind of activity she’d prefer to occupy her time with. As much as he knew she had enjoyed learning how to cook, it had a limit, one she’d soon find herself at.

No, cooking wasn’t the task she needed.

But he would find something she could invest in.

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Shielded: Chapter Six; Spring Watch.

Anonymous said to imagineclaireandjamie:

A hard man is good to find. [Mae West]

--

Jamie woke with a start, the alarm blaring in the background.

The dream had been intense and had left him panting, a sheen of sweat on his skin as he pushed the duvet aside and stood. As always it was light outside, the sunrise half blinding him as the blasts of orange and red permeated the old curtains. Washing the night from his skin, he plunged himself beneath the pounding rivulets of water coming from his power shower, his body temperature receding slightly as the morning wore on.

Fortunately Claire wouldn’t be awake yet and he could slip from the house almost unnoticed. He needed to get a good day of work done, and to forget the memory of his dream before he faced her again. The mere thought brought colour to his cheeks, the heat in his belly reminding him of how incredibly realistic it had been.

Delicate pink skin appeared without his permission and once more he could feel the remnants of it haunting him as he slid his wellies on and closed the door softly behind him. Working in a daze, he prepared his cows for milking, the heat of the morning fading slightly as the clouds rolled in. The animals barely paid him any mind, going about their own business as he fed, watered and tended to them.

She hadn’t snuck into his bed, as she had in his dreams, but she had infiltrated his thoughts and no matter how hard he tried, sporadic jolts of her came unbidden throughout the day as he worked.

She’s married, he told himself, although the argument felt pretty weak in his own mind. In the abstract she was, he could tell that she still thought herself that way despite starting her new life. Without knowing it, she often rubbed her wedding ring finger - though the ring had long since been removed. It was obvious she was struggling with the transition and who could blame her, it had only been a couple of weeks. She was still hesitating on her name whenever he spoke it out loud to her, the subtle twitch betraying her.

But she was beginning to thaw, the shocked reaction he received when he spoke to her growing less and less as time went on (which, secretly, made him smile).

The baby lambs were out in force as he pulled the sandwich from his rucksack - one Claire had made him the night before. He smiled to himself as he perched on the fence, watching his first time mums as they paraded their babies around the perimeter of the field. Food somehow tasted better when someone else had made it for him, the slight differences in style allowing him a great enough change in routine to be noticeable.

She, it seemed, had a penchant for adding multiple salad products on her ham sandwich. Whereas Jamie was always in a rush at 4am, trying to collect his thermos as well as various food items to keep him going for the day, usually he would just throw slices of meat on top of bread without much thought. Lettuce, tomatoes, cucumber and *butter*, however, made all the difference. He even had potato salad on the side and a bag of what looked like homemade crisps.

Before Claire had arrived, John had given Jamie a very brief update as to her situation. Knowing a limited amount, he gauged that the difficulties she’d encountered recently hadn’t really set in yet and, instead, she was going through some sort of nesting, using her time at Lallybroch to cook and clean, ensuring that her mind is actively kept away from thinking about much at all.

His mind needed something similar as the image of her pottering about in his kitchen whilst he was away brought to the fore those visions that had him startled awake this morning before his alarm had even a chance to ring and he shook the picture of her bare skin from his thoughts, turning back to his task list.

The orphaned lambs were thriving now. Most had been ‘adopted’ by other nursing mothers but he still had two rogue ewes who were waiting for collection - Rupert, his nearest (mostly by proximity but also by friendship) neighbour had offered to take them for him but had yet been unable to drive over to collect them. In lieu of this, Jamie had been spending time hand feeding them every day though he worried each time he left them that he might return to something unmentionable.

Luckily, they’d survived another night in the small outhouse and he crawled in between them, the straw poking and prodding him as he settled with the warm milk bottle. The first, the largest of the two, squirmed in excitement, rushing to plonk herself by his side and suckle noisily at the teet.

“Easy now, lass, there’s enough for the both of you.” He soothed, watching as she butted the bottle, falling to her knees as she fed. Sheep were notoriously terrible pets, losing their fear of humans when in contact for too long and he had worried this close contact wouldn’t be good for the ewes, but watching the smaller of the pair sit helplessly in the corner made him think of Claire.

An idea came to him all of a sudden as he moved towards the lone female. He could, if he wanted, take the lamb home that evening and leave her in Claire’s care. Not only would it give the poor wee thing a greater chance, it might give her something else to turn her attention to in the day. There was a large chance he’d lose this one if he didn’t do something drastic.

-- --- --

An odd feeling settled in her stomach from the moment she woke up. Though she couldn’t put her finger on what the issue was, she felt a strange atmosphere hovering around her. Her skin prickled as she got out of the shower and she immediately felt as though there was something she should be remembering but couldn’t quite hold onto the memory.

She’d heard Jamie leave this morning, which was odd in itself. Usually she was fast asleep at dawn, not waking until much later when the house was quiet and she was alone. But she’d been woken this morning by some forgotten thought or dream that she couldn’t picture from the second she’d opened her eyes.

After barely speaking for two weeks, the weekend had been a welcome change.

Conversation had not been forced or odd, Jamie had allowed her time for quiet reflection and had seemed really quite pleased with her suggestions for the upcycling of his old furniture.

She felt useful, finally. A feeling she hadn’t had in some time.

Putting herself to work, she opted for cleaning downstairs for the best part of the morning. There was still a lot of dust residue from the sanding epic they’d had on Saturday, even spending most of Sunday dusting and hoovering hadn’t removed it all, so she pulled the dyson from under the stairs and tried to be as thorough as she could be.

Like cooking, she had never considered herself to be fluent in the art of housewifery. Before...when she had been able, her time had been dedicated to studying. There had been a cleaner for such tasks and, even afterwards, she hadn’t *needed* to be useful in that way. Here, though, there was nobody else to clean, do the dishes or cook and she found that losing herself to each task kept her mind (and body) active.

Sitting with the remnants of her crisps, she decided that was the dish she’d been most proud of since her introduction to the kitchen. She found herself thinking of Jamie and hoped that he was enjoying them too.

Their food deliveries now consisted of a greater variety of produce and she’d been able to add some colour to his lunch - which she had been making every evening and putting into the fridge for him to take when he left in the mornings.

She felt pleased as well as shocked at how easily she had moulded to fit her new life here.

Happy with her efforts, she turned her attention to the bookshelves in the back living room. There were titles dating back hundreds of years. Thick leather covers with yellowed pages sat proudly amongst the newer softback novels. She could tell which books had been read just by glancing at the spines, though there had been fingerprints in the thin layer of dust that had been there only hours before.

They were categorised, it seemed, by the surname of the author, carefully and methodically organised so that each time a new title had been purchased, it had been added in the right spot though there wasn’t room for many more.

His taste was eclectic, from non-fiction books on farming, agriculture, holistic medicines and horticulture to the classics (neatly bound with multiple editions ordered together, oldest first) including Jane Austin, Victor Hugo, Descartes, Melville and Hemingway. Jumbled in were some biographies but she’d assumed those belonged to either his parents or sister as none had been touched for some time.

Her fingers ran over the spines, stopping to hover over the drawing and painting books she’d first read when learning to doodle on the post-it notes in the first few weeks. She didn’t stop until she reached a relatively new title that she hadn’t noticed before. There was ruffling on the edge, a clear sign of frequent use, and some damage to the corners. Pulling it from the shelves, she settled into the comfy armchair, her cup of tea now cool enough to drink, and began to read.

It was modern, eloquently written with intricate plot weaving from the moment she turned the first page. The front cover clearly denoted that of a romance but there was intrigue and art as well as carefully homegrown characters. Before she’d had time to digest the prose, the front door opened and closed and she blinked. The clock on the desk ticked loudly and she noticed that hours had passed without her knowing.

Placing the book back on the shelf, she decided to leave it where it was for the time being and come back for it before bed. Though the visuals she’d imagined for herself stayed with her as she stretched and went in search of Jamie.

A loud noise caught her attention and she burst out laughing as she walked into the kitchen to find him wrestling with a small lamb.

“A new friend?” She said, her shock fading quickly.

“Ah; lass, I need ye!” His words were breathless, his cheeks a vibrant pink from the exertion of keeping the lamb from darting off and wrecking the joint. “I have a challenge for you, if you’re up for it!?”

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Shielded. Chapter EIGHT; Call The Midwife.

Anonymous said to imagineclaireandjamie: Pandora’s box.

On time this week <3 MBD

-- --- --

The weekend whizzed by, Rupert had been held up by one thing or another and a few more of the livestock needed attending to, so she hardly saw or heard Jamie but the ewe had finally been rehomed happily. Though she was relieved to have quiet returned to the house, the fact that Jamie hadn’t been home for dinner for most of the week had left her feeling rather moudline.  

Though he’d done a great job of bringing humour back to the table during their previous conversation, she couldn’t help but dwell on the memories some of the comments had brought back to the surface.

Most nights she was woken by severe nightmares, ones that had rendered her emotional, her eyes red raw and filled with moisture as she tried to contain her sobs. Each time she’d rise, bathe her face in cool water and try to get back to sleep as soon as possible but by the end of the week she was extremely exhausted...and lonely.

In the early hours of Friday morning she found herself sitting in the reading room nursing a glass of whisky. Silently she’d hoped to muddle through the day alone but as Jamie came downstairs to begin his morning routine he saw the glow from the candle she had lit.

He stood in the doorway for long enough to watch a few stray tears roll down her cheek. Illuminated by the small light, she had a book clutched between her hands as if she’d meant to read it though it didn’t seem she was actually going to. It seemed as if she knew he was there but made no move to acknowledge him, instead she kept her eyes (glazed and heavy with moisture) gazing out of the window.

The sun was rising, filling the room with glorious yellow and orange. She’d caught sight of Jamie but her mind had been too focused on holding herself together to speak. The empty feeling that had been haunting her all week was reaching its peak and it felt impossible to even try to communicate with another person.

An ache rose in his belly as he took one small step into the room, across the boundary and closer to her. When she didn’t flinch or show any outward signs that this was upsetting to her, Jamie continued.

She felt his arms wrap around her, the contact strange but welcoming at the same time.

He was warm, his chest rising and falling gently as she moulded herself against him.

There was a moment of calm where neither spoke. Jamie worked hard to keep his heart rate down, the panic rising a little as he realised that he’d initiated contact so easily.

A connection had been made, his...desire...to be close to her had been growing and though he knew she hadn’t picked up on it, there was something about the way she reacted to him that suggested she felt similarly. It was too soon, though, for him to show his hand and he had been content to allow her the safety of his home.

Now, however, he worried this might expose him.

“I have to go out and milk, sassenach, but I’ll come back afterwards. Get yerself a fresh cup of tea and relax, we can talk then.”

Gripping her briefly, he then released his arms, waited for her to pull herself away and turned to leave. She didn’t speak until he was far enough down the corridor that he only caught the echo of her words, but he heard the ‘thank you’ reverberate across the walls and he smiled as he pulled himself inside the jeep and drove off across the fields.

Still in a sort of stupor, she basked in the warmth he’d left clinging to her skin for a long time after she’d heard the door close and the car drive away. Finally she made it back into the kitchen, sorted herself a cup of coffee and went back to the reading room.

Beneath the bench of the window seat, she recalled finding a couple of unopened jigsaws. She hoped Jamie wouldn’t mind, but the thought of doing too much had her stomach tied in knots and it seemed to be the perfect activity to while away the morning.

“Then if he doesn’t come back after milking, I can just continue.” She declared as she unwrapped one of the more complex looking puzzles.

Using the foldaway table she spread the pieces out, making sure to sort the edge pieces from the middle. It wasn’t long before her coffee had cooled, the sun was high in the sky and she’d organised different sections of the jigsaw in small, neat piles inside the completed outer edge.

With the scene in her mind, she didn’t allow herself the chance to overthink the morning, a sort of relaxed calm had settled and her chest felt lighter...though there was still an innate feeling of loss that she couldn’t shake.

Her skin prickled, a draught running through the room, making the hairs on her arms stand on end. She was safe, she knew she was, but there was something unsettling brewing. She hoped it was just the prospect of talking about herself, reliving parts of her ‘old’ life that she wanted to remain buried forever.

A piece of the jigsaw clicked into place, the soft card edges fitting together to reveal another section of the image.

“You’d been crying.”

She snorted before licking her lips. The coffee was stone cold now and she had yet to take even a small sip of it.

“Yes.”

She hadn’t heard Jamie return but his words were so soft that it hadn’t shocked her when he’d spoken.

“Silly, really, but I couldn’t stop myself.”

“Ye dinna have to tell me anything, but I want you to ken that I’m here if you do.”

It had been nearly a month since her arrival at Lallybroch and with April nearly over she realised that she had collected some insight on him, yet she’d given little of herself in return. He wasn’t being nosey or pushy though, his words as gentle as his general demeanour.

“It’s just memories, tough ones, but things that happened in another lifetime.”

Isolated as they were, it felt to her as if she’d been reborn with only a few ghosts of the life she’d once known.

Continuing on with her jigsaw, she chose another few pieces that fit together and felt the process soothing her, it was as if she were talking to nobody rather than to Jamie. He sat perched on the edge of the leather armchair, his eyes focused on her but saying nothing.

“I was very nearly a mother, it was nearly three years ago now...a miracle, really. And then a nightmare.”

The date felt eerily familiar to Jamie. Jenny, his sister, had gone through her own battle around the same time and he’d watched and picked up the pieces as best he could when her husband, Ian, could not. There was nothing worse than getting so heartbreakingly close only to have it all ripped away.

“Nothing was the same after that. I hadn’t really pictured myself raising a family until it happened and then, all of a sudden, I was on maternity leave from my studies without a true purpose, only my grief and a huge hole where my family no longer existed.” She paused, taking a few long breaths as she tried to stop the painful ache from rising in her chest. “It was suggested...calmly...that I didn’t return after that. I had some medication to help me sleep and it made me so groggy that I would have agreed to anything.”

Jenny had been much the same way, only her support network had been larger - he guessed.

“If I know anything, sassenach,” he said quietly, “it’s that there is always room for second chances and new beginnings. Even when it seems improbable.”

Something told her he knew something of her loss without him having to say it. Kind until the end, he allowed her time to process her own restored grief without invading emotionally.

“I’ll make us some lunch.” Sensing that she was spent for the moment, he smiled softly across at her before leaving quietly.

It took her a minute to collect herself again but she felt all the better for the discussion. It was a relief to have the weight removed from her chest and she was pleased she’d successfully managed to get through the story with very few tears.

It felt good, for once, not to be alone.

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Shielded. Chapter SEVEN. Catastrophe.

Anonymous said to imagineclaireandjamie: Prompt: Young at heart.

Morning/afternoon/evening all - sorry there wasn’t an update on Sunday, I’ve been moving house so it’s all a little messy at the moment. After next week, though, Shielded should return to normal <3 (for those who’ve asked, this isn’t posted on AO3, it may be at some point but at the moment I don't have enough time to post in both places, so sorry) MBD.

--

There should have been something endearing about being butted daily by a bouncing cloud, but the ewe Claire had taken care of for Jamie seemed to be having more fun than it should. For the third time that week she found herself chasing the bleating thing around the house as it continued to knock pictures, magazines, books, remotes and anything else not glued down over and off every single surface. Nothing was safe.

“OI!” She yelled, hoping her ‘mum voice’ would subdue the raging beast (it didn’t). “Watch the…”

Too late, she thought, as it went careering into the side of the wall. Luckily the house was made of stronger stuff, and her erstwhile companion simply shook herself and trotted off down the hallway.

‘Headstrong’ was the word she’d used in her earlier call to Jamie. He had laughed, covering his mouth so that she couldn’t hear him, as she’d relayed the story of her morning but had made a mental note that perhaps having a lamb in the house had not been the smartest move. Usually timid, sheep could pose bigger issues the more...content...they became with human contact though he hadn’t thought her large enough to pose as much of an issue as she did.

By the end of the week she (the ewe) had fully established herself as head of the house and Claire had succumbed to allowing her free rein.

Peace had been restored for which everyone was grateful.

“Clearly she feels more secure in the house wi’out the other sheep to boss her about.” Jamie said over dinner on Friday -  a night he had, thankfully, managed to get home at a reasonable hour.

“Yes, so it seems.” Claire added, without humour.

Keeping his eye on her, he tried to playfully nudge her under the table and it wasn’t long before a slight pink blush coloured her cheeks and she began laughing too.

“Nothing that’s worth having in this life comes easy,” he quipped, winking as best as he was able, “including the raising of sheep, sassenach…”

There was a moment of silence as Claire cocked her head to the side. “Nope,” she said, a glint of humour behind her eyes, “you’re going to have to explain that one.”

“One what?”

“Sass-a-what now?”

“OH!” For a moment he seemed abashed, his eyes glancing away from hers as he tried to find an effective (and non-insulting) way to explain his comment. He had been thinking of how to address her. It was clear she was finding it difficult to adapt to her new name (more so than her surroundings, though, he was pleased to note). “Well, it’s a bit of a...slur...really. But I didna mean it that way. Only I didna want to keep calling ye ‘lass’ all the time, and it seemed to suit you.”

“...so, what does it mean, technically speaking?”

“Literally it means ‘foreigner’, but it’s usually only used to describe the English.”

“Fitting then?” The sweet smile on her face betrayed her and he knew she wasn’t angry at the assessment.

There was a certain automatic understanding; he was right, she was struggling to connect with her new identity and he’d clearly picked up on the hesitation she had in answering to her new name. She felt like a foreigner in her own body so it seemed natural that her nickname should be linked with such a phrase. And, even though it was meant to be derogatory, she had immediately felt a kinship with it.

“Do you have any Scottish slurs for a cantankerous lamb?”

Having been ill-prepared for the immediacy of her humour, Jamie choked on his drink as he tried to contain his shocked laughter. “Being a notorious farming community, I’m sure there must be something but usually when the animals are misbehaving we just use Gaelic curse words.”

“Maybe you should be the first to coin one - it can be your legacy.”

Raising his eyebrows, he took a sip of his  tea and made an indistinct low noise in the back of his throat. Settling back into a comfortable silence, he watched her take a bite of a biscuit, his interest piqued as she dunked it carelessly into her hot drink. Although she was mostly still an enigma, he was starting to get a sense of her. Certainly she’d been raised well, in a middle class household. From her dress to her manner and the way she spoke and carried herself, he guessed she’d been privately educated.

But there was also something incredibly earthy about her, an aura of something more down-to-earth than that and he was drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

The dreams hadn’t stopped, he’d had one free night but he was niggled persistently by something just beyond his reach and he would wake (usually before his alarm) breathless and needy, sweat often rolling down his back. The cold showers had become a regular occurrence and he felt a little embarrassed when he looked at her - even though, hopefully, she had no knowledge of the inner workings of his mind.

He’d been told on a number of occasions that his face gave nothing away and he couldn’t have been more grateful for that now.

“If you think much harder, Jamie, your brain might fall out of your ears.” She joked, pushing the plate of biscuits across to him as the orphaned ewe bleated loudly in the background. She found that the noise made her giggle and she couldn’t wipe the smile off her face as she watched him dismantle the jammy dodger. “Though that may be preferable to dealing with that furry bully.”

“She’s just a lass with spirit, that’s all.” He returned, watching as she dipped her head, the shorter parts of her hair falling from the bobble she had it tied loosely in to hide away her face.

“Lord knows we need a few more of those in our lives.”

“It can’t hurt, can it?”

As the atmosphere in the room changed, Jamie pushed the half empty plate back across the table, his little finger sliding ever so softly against hers before pulling back. He saw the second her confidence dipped and wanted to calmly reassure her without openly baring her insecurities.

“So,” she said, shaking off her downturned mood relatively quickly, “she probably needs more skilled hands than mine to continue raising her?”

“After the weekend my pal Rupert will come and take her, he has an older ewe he thinks might be able to take her on. But dinna think too much of it, she likes you, she feels comfortable wi’ you that she’s able to-”

“Run me ragged?”

“Aye.”

“It does feel like one of those high school experiments made to put you off becoming parents.” She was stood now, looking into the back utility room at her newest friend, who’d given up making noise to, instead, lie sleepily on the small smattering of hay Claire had placed down for her to munch on.

“She’s probably a wee bit more intense than an egg?”

That image made her snort. “Did you have to take care of an *egg* like a baby?”

“Oh aye, I drew a face on it.”

“It!? No wonder they only gave you poultry produce with that attitude.”

With contentment settling between them once more, Jamie allowed the weight of the last few minutes to fall from his shoulders. He felt proud that he’d been able to turn it around with a humorous quip borne from his own experiences. At the same time, he could see that she too felt relieved.

As the lamb stood sleepily and began to suckle gently on Claire’s outstretched fingers, a delicate moment passed between her and the little ewe.

“See, I told you she liked you.”

As he got into bed that evening, Jamie tried to recall the look of pure pleasure on her face as she’d noticed the bond that she had cultivated. Having been a city dweller for most of her life, she’d spoken to him over dinner about the pet cat her uncle had owned when she was very young but she’d hardly had much chance to engage with animals before or after that point. He’d suggested that he didn’t have to send the ewe away with Rupert but that’d both agreed it would still be better in the long run and he sensed she wanted to keep hold of the good memories she’d made (albeit few and far between) before she grew any bigger and caused anymore damage.

“Sleep well, sassenach,” he whispered, the ghost of a smile pulling at his lips as the image of her nursing the ewe was replaced by Claire with a small red-haired child - the vision appearing unbidden as he fell softly to sleep.

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Shielded. Chapter One

ANON: Courage is being scared to death but saddling up anyway. [John Wayne]

Since the beginning of lockdown here in the UK, I’ve been making little notes here and there and I’ve finally put something together that is hopefully interesting. It’s set from the start of our isolation back on Friday 20th March and will work its way forwards in time <3 enjoy! Mod MBD.

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The Daily Briefing:

She left under the cover of darkness, the atmospheric sheet rain appearing out of nowhere to conceal her as she hid the doorway of a boarded up shop. The ‘closed’ signs that littered the windows of each and every shop on the highstreet illuminated as the lights flickered on, the daylight fading as night enveloped the south of England. It should have been a regular Friday evening, but it wasn’t. And despite the shock of the rest of the nation, she was more than happy for the lockdown to take immediate effect.

A couple of the pubs were still open, the last of their punters being ushered out by groups of policemen and women as the 9pm curfew approached, and though there was still some footfall through the small village, it wasn’t enough to worry her greatly.

She remembered reading YA fiction that started in a similar way and the idea that the whole population might be reduced to some dystopian teen nightmare seemed more than plausible. But at least she’d be far away from society by the time it did. Wondering whether Suzanne Collins and Veronica Roth were somewhere together, raising a glass to their literary insight into such things, she pulled her jacket tighter around her neck to stop the droplets of water running down her chest.

The honk of a horn brought her out of her thoughts as she grabbed her meagre belongings and hid her face from the rain. Getting herself settled in the back of the blacked out van, there was a part of her that scoffed at the idea of danger lurking within as the plain-clothed officers escorting her smiled softly, passing her a towel to wipe the stray drips of moisture from her face. As a child she had, of course, been warned about strangers in vehicles. Now though there were more monsters lurking in her own home than there were anywhere else in the country.

“You might want to get some sleep, if you can, miss.” One of the younger officers said, breaking the silence even with his moderately quiet statement. “It’s a long drive, we’re aiming for eight hours if we can, but it will all depend on the roads.”

Nodding, she pulled a woolen blanket from one of her bags, removed her coat and curled herself against the window. Though she thought sleep impossible, she did manage to doze a little as the car made its way towards the motorway. Her mind went blank as they sped up, she’d spent weeks agonising over this choice, the solid notion of it taking root in her subconscious as the country seemed to spin towards chaos and confusion.

The virus, however, had not been her primary concern. Only her mental and physical survival had taken precedent. It was the prime minister's announcement yesterday that schools and pubs would close the following week that spurred her onwards, and she’d (rather rapidly) responded to the offer she had been levelled with.

If she wanted to disappear, now was her chance.

“John wants you to know that he’s processed the documents you’re going to need and included a shielding letter with that. This should take you until the end of June as well as the furlough payments. He also says you did the right thing.”

Making incomplete thumps against her chest, her heart stopped for a moment as the police officer spoke. She’d been warring with herself for weeks, uncertain of the best course of action. She had, of course, lived with the increasing threat for years before it had finally erupted. John had seen the outcome and had begged her to reconsider his previous offer of assistance having watched her descend into a less than perfect relationship. But she had been convinced that she’d be able to manage.

She hadn’t. An obvious change had taken hold of her husband. He wasn’t the man she married, not by a long shot, and as 2019 came to a close, so did any of his positive attributes. He was a professor, a professional man with many books to his name and he refused to believe his actions had become that of a less than ideal partner.

The first stay in hospital, however, stated otherwise.

“Will I be able to speak to him?”

The officer shook his head sadly. “No, if this is to work, you have to sever all contact with anyone you previously knew, even John. Anything that puts you at risk or could enlighten the wrong people into knowing your whereabouts would jeopardize all of the work we’ve all put in to assure your safety.”

Having had the mood suitably dulled, she lay her head against the window and let several hundred miles pass her by.  

As they crossed the border around midnight, the rain finally began to ease and she smiled at the irony. She hadn’t spent much time in Scotland, but she knew it wasn’t famous for its notoriously glorious weather. Part of her was desperate for some coffee but the further they travelled up the country, the less likely it was that the service stations were 24 hours - nor did she think her drivers would be willing to stop until they’d reached their destination.

Once off the motorway and onto the single track roads that led them further into the highlands, she started to guess at where their final destination might be. When the proposition had first been offered to her, John had given her a number of options of a safe haven - one being a flight away (by that point he had started to take her safety quite seriously). As the grey scenery passed them by, a slight pinking of the sky signalling that dawn was close, she was trying to recall the names of the places he’d suggested though her mind was as much of a blur as the greenery whooshing by the back window.

“I don’t suppose you have anything caffeinated to drink?” She asked. 

Reaching forward, she took the unopened bottle of coke from one of her escorts and relaxed back into her seat.

“Not far away now. There aren't any toilets, though.”

Fatigue was running deep, she could tell by the tiredness in his voice as he spoke and she nodded as she took a sip. The warning was clear; drink it all quickly and there would be no stopping for a break. But she was too thirsty to worry too much.

“Can I ask where we’re going?”

“Just north-west of Inverness. It’s a farm so it’s as remote as they come. It’s single occupancy, the guy who lives there runs his family business. He’s an old contact of John’s, so although there is to be no contact between you, he trusts you’re in safe hands. All shopping is pre organised and will be delivered once every two weeks to ensure neither of you are put at risk leaving the property for supplies.”

“Should I leave the house at all?” At this point she couldn’t tell whether she was being sarcastic or not but there was an honesty to her question that made the officers answer her quickly.

“No. You have your letter, not that there is anyone around to ask for it, but for the next 12 weeks you should remain inside at all times. No matter how far we take you away from civilization there is always the risk - even during a national pandemic and lockdown - of someone being around, seeing you and passing it on. Where we’re taking you, the owner hasn’t had another friend or family on the property for a number of years. Small communities talk so you should stay inside and out of the view of any members of the local village.”

“Noted.” Replying sadly, she replaced the cap on the half finished bottle of cola and ran her fingers along the inside of her leg. The scar there was still fresh, the heat of it making the hairs on her arms stand on end. She knew that if she wanted this to work, if she wanted to remain hidden, then she would have to obey the rules set.

They drove through Inverness just as 5am hit and the sun rose across the extensive lochs and mountains.

“It might seem far-fetched, the idea that you’ll be located, but we can’t take the risk. We did look through your file, though, and found a name we hope has some resonance to you.” *but nobody else* he thought, but did not say.

“Thank you, I really appreciate it. Please pass that on to John, I didn’t even get the chance to tell him how grateful I am. For everything.” Her intrigue had been piqued about her new identity but once she knew who she was going to be for the next few weeks, it would all become real. Whilst they still hadn’t arrived, she could sit and pretend to be existing in an in between - half way between fantasy and reality.

As they pulled off one side-road and onto another her driver passed her an envelope. She could see a small smile lift the side of his mouth as an archway came into view in front of them. “Of course I will, Claire.”

“Claire?”

“Yes,” he returned, bringing his arm up and pointing his finger at the brown packet in her hands, “it’s all in there...the rest of it. Read it, keep the ID documentation and then burn anything you don’t need to use later.”

“Claire.” She whispered to herself.

And in one breath, as a rather large white brick farm house appeared beneath the now large ivy coated arch, Elizabeth Randall died and she instantly became Claire Beauchamp.

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Shielded. Chapter Five: The Repair Shop.

Anonymous said to

imagineclaireandjamie: Ask and you shall receive.

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After a break last week, we’re back with Sunday Shielded. I hope you enjoy <3 MBD.

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On Saturday, much to her surprise, Jamie was down in the kitchen -his pyjamas still on- frying up some bacon. Having smelled the food, she had woken later than usual and quickly gotten herself dressed to come and investigate.

“Morning.” He said, cheerfully.

“No work today?” She asked inquisitively. It had been two weeks since her arrival and not once had he taken a day off to rest.

“I thought maybe we could spend the day together, if ye like?”

He hadn’t exactly planned on staying in, but having her open up to him made him feel as if she were now ready for company...and he found he was interested in getting to know her. His neighbours had often joked that he’d find himself missing human company at some point but it hadn’t been until he’d had Claire in his house that he finally realised that they were right.

“Oh, well,” she replied looking a little shocked. She’d paused for so long that it gave him time to think and regret his decision, maybe she still needed time by herself…

Replying, finally, she looked down at her blank phone, “I’ll have to check my busy schedule and see if I can fit you in - I’m in demand, you know?”

Chuckling under his breath he passed her a breakfast sandwich before turning back to take a bite of his own. “Feeling humorous today, are we?” He jested, immediately panicking that it might have been the wrong thing to say.

Smiling around her sandwich, she blinked slowly and made her longest assessment of Jamie since meeting him. He was much taller than she’d remembered. She could see that as he ducked through the doorway into the pantry to collect the tomato sauce. It felt as though the house hadn’t been built with such dimensions in mind.

Sensing her eyes on him, Jamie poked his head around the door in time to see her hair settle back against her shoulders. She’d been quick to avoid being caught, but not fast enough. Biting his lip to stop the laughter from bubbling up he watched her fingers rest gently against the skin of her neck. The first thing he’d noticed was her height, small shoulders and a long shapely neck. The curls of her hair had been pinned up, but this morning she’d left them bobbing just shy of her collarbone. Somehow it gave emphasis to the muscles that ran seamlessly from her arm and up to stop beneath her ears. Pretty, he thought, more striking when she turned and he caught the deep blue hue of her irises. They were almost golden at the edges, like the tip of a wedding ring as the sun catches the metal.

He couldn’t stop the image of her in a long white dress springing to mind as he stumbled over a rogue stone on his way back to the sink and he had to shake his head to rid himself of the vision.

Silly, he thought as he sat in front of her.

Jenny, his sister, had been on the phone the night before talking about memories and he tried to play it off as if those conversations had merged though a strange spinning in the base of his stomach continued to bother him.

Seeing a strange confusion pass over his face, she coughed, wiping the crumbs from her mouth as she finished her breakfast. “What did you have in mind?”

The atmosphere that had subtly hung in the air vanished as fast as it had developed and, looking out of the window, she glanced at the clouds as they hovered overhead. It felt like rain, a day for being indoors no matter whether you were allowed out or not. Turning her attention back to Jamie, he tilted his head very slightly. She had no plans, obviously and had only thought as far as getting herself downstairs for a cup of tea.

“I could do wi’ some help, if ye dinna mind?”

“Of course!” The smile that spread across her face was honest, her eyes lighting up at the prospect of being some assistance. “I can’t promise that I’ll be great, it depends on what you need help with, but I’m all yours for the day.”

As it turned out, Jamie had a few pieces of furniture in the back of his bedroom that had various issues. One table with a missing leg, a chair with some damage to the woodwork along the back and some shelves in need of serious renovation.

“I saw yer books sitting in the suitcase you have, I thought maybe we could sand these down, gi’ them a new coat of varnish and put them on the walls in yer room. That way you can unpack, make the space your own?”

Holding the planks up, Jamie twisted the wood between his hands. There was a lull as he sized up what he’d got, making sure they were wide enough to hold a set of books. “Or we could paint them, if ye fancy some colour? I’m no’ totally averse to covering up the original oak but I ken enough about ‘Changing Rooms’ style that it can go horribly wrong. What do ye think?”

“I feel like a heathen for covering wood - varnish would be wonderful, though.”

“Do ye think designers are hidden behind the panels, just waiting for you to commit some crime against interior design?”

That thought remained with her through mid-morning and into the afternoon. When they finally stopped for lunch, the back utility room was covered in shavings, as were Jamie and Claire. Washing her hands, she tried to pick as many of the larger chunks of wood from her jumper and leggings. They’d managed to revitalise the former shelves and give them one coat of varnish. Now they were drying Jamie had suggested a cup of tea and something to eat before moving on to the other items.

“Have you ever thought of engraving?” Blowing across the warm liquid, she had in mind some of the more discrete carvings she’d seen on wooden furniture whilst frequenting antique shops in Oxford. “Not just initials - we could come up with a logo of sorts. Or a crest? Your family has one, doesn’t it?”

It had been one of those long nights a couple of days ago when she’d found his family crest. At first she had been amused, pulling the secret door open where it sat at the top of the stairs to find an array of hidden gems including a complete knight of the realm suit of armour. The crest had been embossed into the metal, its stylish swirls standing out clean and proud on the breastplate. She had been tempted to put it on for about a second, but had then relented, closed the door and moved on with her search.

It wasn’t until they were knee deep in their project that she’d had the idea.

“I suspect I’d need some practice if I were going to try and add that, there’s quite a bit of detail on it.” There was no surprise in his voice, but she did notice the subtle change in his face as he put his sandwich down for just a moment. His almost undetectable shock soon turned to amusement as he took a crisp from the bowl between them.

“Take a rubbing, that way you already have an almost identical copy of it.”

“Aye, good idea. What next to get it on the wood?”

“You use something sharp. I’d say a compass would probably work alright. Et voila,” with a flamboyant flick of her wrists, she pointed towards where the half broken items sat waiting their turn for sanding and fixing. “You have yourself the beginnings of your own engraving. A personalised signature on your recreations.” She looked excited at the prospect, which, in turn, made Jamie feel similarly joyful.

“My mam would have liked you.” He said without thinking. For a second he felt abashed at his words but when he saw that it hadn’t phased her, he took a deep breath and a gulp of his tea.

“She wouldn’t have been worried about you taking in waifs and strays, then?”

“Nah. She would have encouraged it. Especially since yer so handy wi’ hints on how to continue the Fraser legacy - it’s something she would have been keen on too.”

Sitting back in her chair she tried to picture what his mother might have been like.

“I’ll get out the albums later, if you like? Show you some pictures of her and da.” He said, answering her silent question.

“Sounds perfect. Now,” sitting up straighter, she put her hands flat against the table, “let’s get these chairs mended and back on form eh!”

“Couldn’t have put it better myself, Claire.”

With purpose, she nodded and stood, the name (though natural on his tongue) still feeling unnatural to her ears.

“You start the sanding, Jamie, and I’ll go and take the first rubbing of the crest.”

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Shielded. Chapter Four

Happy Sunday all, back to the usually scheduling this week. I hope you enjoy the next week of lockdown with Jamie and Claire <3 Mod MBD.

Anonymous said to imagineclaireandjamie: 

It does not matter what you bear, but how you bear it. [Seneca]

CHAPTER FOUR: WEEK TWO - Home and Away.

As Monday rolled around again, the weekend having passed by in a blur, Claire sat at the breakfast table with a fresh cup of coffee in her hands. Having ventured down during the day on both Saturday and Sunday, she had hoped to bump into Jamie and pass on her thanks to his generosity but he had been out before sunrise each day and she had been asleep before he’d returned home.

Resolute, however, she chose to spend her day downstairs and hopefully get something on for dinner before he came back so she could at least start the week off right.

Fate, however, wasn’t on her side. By 10pm, with the lasagne tucked away, wrapped in foil, in the fridge, she covered her mouth with a yawn and pulled herself up the stairs to bed.

The crash and smashing of a glass bought her out of her sleep as the clock beside her bed clicked over to 3am. Pulling herself from beneath the sheets, she crept downstairs, eager not to scare him as she approached the kitchen.

“Couldn’t sleep?” She asked, knowing full well he had only just returned home.

He was stood by the sink, cold lasagna on the countertop and his mucky boots still on his feet. With the fork held to his mouth, he smiled as he took another bite of the pasta, chewed and then shook his head. “I havena ever been the best sleeper but it’s lambing season, aye? One of them got into bother and I couldna leave her until I knew she was safe.”

“And she made it?”

“Aye. I was luckier tonight than I was at the weekend.”

“Oh, dear...that doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s the job, I’m afraid. If I didna lose at least a handful a year I’d be shocked.”

It was the first real (and longest) conversation they’d had since she’d arrived and she was suddenly grateful for the company. He was calm, grounded and relaxed in the way a lot of city dwellers weren’t. She could tell in the slump of his shoulders that it didn’t matter how long and awkward his day was, how messy or how little sleep he had gotten the night before, he was still weightless almost, free of the constraint modern living brought to most.

“I wanted to say thank you,” she broke in, remembering the reason she’d half-blindly stumbled down in the middle of the night, “you’ve been so amazing - to get me materials for a garden, that’s...above and beyond the call of duty.”

“Ach,” shaking his head, he finished the last of his supper, balled the tin foil up and placed it in the bin, “dinna fash yersel’ about that. It’s no’ a problem.”

He was embarrassed, she could tell. Abashed, his accent had become incredibly thick and almost impossible to understand. But it was quiet enough here that there was no background noise to blot out his sentence and luckily she didn’t have to ask him to repeat himself.

“Well, nonetheless,” ignoring the slight reddening of his cheeks she continued, “I am very grateful to you. For everything.”

With nothing more to say between them, she waved, smiled and backed off, feeling strangely pleased with herself for breaking the silence between them. Hopefully, she thought as she climbed the stairs back to her room, there would be some evenings in the future when they could eat together and she could show her appreciation by making him something warm and fresh.

-- --

By mid-week, she had yet to see Jamie again. His work was intense, and yet, despite that, he had still managed to begin construction of her tiny garden.

In her haste she had forgotten that she wasn’t allowed outside the house and, as she’d watched the greenhouse foundations being laid, she had become almost inconsolable about the fact that she probably wouldn’t get the chance to tend to any of the produce grown in it.

She knew, however, that safety was more important than new hobbies and she chose, instead, to make detailed lists of the daily needs of each of the seeds and plants Jamie had procured for her.

She started with the tomatoes and grapes, which needed to be contained within the glass walls in order to collect enough light and heat to survive. She noted water levels, soil PH and balance and daily rituals which would need to be abided by in order for the best crop to be formed. It filled most of her days and when the sun went down, she’d swap her notepad for the computer as she researched all the differences she might see in her fruit and veg determined all by the way they were treated as they grew.

Though she had never been an artist, she started to search for youtube videos on how botanical art could be created. Having no coloured pencil crayons or watercolours, she stuck to pencil sketches and began to leave more post-it’s, this time with future predictions on what the garden might produce for the household.

Once again Jamie enjoyed coming home. There had only been a few days lapse in her communications but when he didn’t see her for days, it was the one thing he could rely on to buoy his spirits.

They were different, in so many ways, but on a subconscious level, he pondered to himself at night as he held the drawing of some rare cabbage in his hands, Jamie felt as if they had very many similar quirks. He’d been pleased that his idea to leave her be for as long as she needed had been a success and was grateful she felt at home enough to reform her life around his. Her asking for the garden made him realise how easy it might be for someone else to fit into his own life without causing him much grief.

It was only a small thing, but to him it had made a huge difference. Having lived alone for so long, he had almost forgotten how malleable people could be. Though, he thought as he rifled around in the fridge for more pre-made meals, he had probably just gotten lucky with Claire.

The thought also occurred to him that she had been inadvertently raised more suited to this life than her old one, but he didn’t know enough about her to advance on the notion.

It wasn’t until late on Thursday when they came face to face together. After another heavy day and late night, Jamie finally toe-ed off his work boots at nearly midnight and made his way, quietly, through to the kitchen.

He had not expected to nearly bump straight into Claire has she dished up what looked like a very tasty stir fry.

“I thought you might be sick of reheating pasta dishes, so I thought I’d try and wait for you this time.”

“Ye didna have to, it’s very late.” He scratched the back of his neck bashfully, even she couldn;t find the truth in his words and she smiled as she placed a fresh bottle of soy sauce in the centre of the table. “But this does smell delicious.”

“It’s taken me a few attempts to hone it, but I’ve been practicing most evenings this week to try and get it perfect, flavour as well as how long I need to cook the veg for.”

“What’s the meat?” He asked, watching as his stomach rumbled audibly.”

“I used the duck, I hope you don’t mind. I used chicken earlier in the week but I couldn’t seem to get it as tender as I wanted it and a few forums online suggested that duck might be a better substitute if I wanted meat with a bit more moisture.”

“Perfect. Use any meat you want from the freeze, for anything. Honestly, I forget most of the time what I’ve got in there.”

Placing several bowls filled with various meats, vegetables and sides, she went back to the sink to wash the remaining stickiness of her hands before beckoning him to start without her. “I had hoped you weren’t saving anything for a special occasion.”

“Ach, I think the virus has put pay to anything like that for a while,” he began, filling his plate with noodles, duck and beansprouts, “my sister - she lives in Canada now - had planned a summer visit, but we’re no’ sure of anything at the moment.”

“Is she the one in the photo,” Claire enquired, taking a mouthful of her own concoction and swallowing back the relief when it tasted nice - a mixture of sweet and savory that wasn’t as overpowering or as dry as it had been earlier on in the day when she’d made the first of the final tests. “The one with brown hair?”

“Aye, she is. Her partner, Ian, got a job out there a few years ago and they emigrated. We talk as often as we can on Skype and FaceTime but it’s become sporadic recently wi’ my erratic work hours. She’s a nurse, ya see, and works odd shift patterns too. But we try and keep in touch at least once a month.”

“Do you miss her?”

“I didna really think about it, we were close....until we werena. Then they moved away and I fell into a new routine.”

He had begun to speak without thinking, filling up the silence with answers to her questions as they ate in between conversation. He had, though, had the forethought to stop before giving too much away. The thought hurt his heart and he had to inhale between a bite of his dinner to gather himself back up. He knew, given time, that he would be alright with sharing his past (as he hoped she would be with hers) but tonight wasn’t the night for revelations.

Sensing his reluctance to continue, she moved on, understanding that she herself wasn’t in a place to open up about her own family life.

“I can imagine Skype is about the only way most are communicating at the moment.” Sighing, she started to collect the empty dishes and load the dishwasher. “I’m quite grateful, actually, that I don’t have anyone to keep in touch with. It’s all...quite scary.”

It was the first time Jamie had consciously thought about the pandemic, being cut off from the outside world had its benefits and he felt relieved that he could separate himself from the constant barrage of news that he supposed others would be exposed to. He realised that both he and Claire were unique now, part of a smaller section of society where being remote was almost a blessing rather than a curse.

“If you ever need to talk, lass,” standing, he helped to clean up the remaining mess from dinner, his hand almost brushing against hers as he wiped the countertop down, breaking only to hover for a second before returning to his job, “ye know where I am. Please dinna think you have nobody...if yer concerned, aye?”

“Thank you Jamie.” Pulling her fleece cardigan across her chest she walked slowly to the kitchen door, pausing for a second in the doorway just to make sure she’d left nothing out to go cold and mouldy overnight. “The same to you. I’m a good listener, I promise, if you ever need to talk, or if you need any help.”

She’d been thinking about his life on the farm for a few days now, watching the rolling hills out of her window, seeing the sheep and cattle on the horizon and -very occasionally- seeing the silhouette of him roaming his land. There was little she could do from indoors, she knew, but there had been chores around the house that she could potentially complete. Putting herself to task, she had learned new basic kitchen skills but only this morning she’d noticed the beginnings of a hole on the seam of his trousers as they dried on the rail in the courtyard and she thought it might be something she could tend to...should he be alright with it.

Leaving with the quiet settling calmly between them, she noted the relaxing of the muscles in his face as he smiled and nodded as she turned and carried herself to bed.

Resting against the faux-marble worktop, Jamie closed his eyes as he waited for the soft slam of her bedroom door before he followed her up. She just might, he thought to himself as he undressed himself, taking a towel from his radiator and making his way to the shower, be better equipped for this life than I am.

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Shielded. Chapter Two.

Anonymous said to

imagineclaireandjamie:

We cannot direct the wind, but we can adjust the sails. [Dolly Parton]

Happy Sunday all - Chapter Two is up and ready, I hope you enjoy. You can find Chapter One HERE. MBD

War and Peace:

It was sunny outside, she could see the clear blue sky through the thick white netting. Having let themselves in to the property with a key in one of the officers back pockets, they were waiting in the small lounge for John’s mystery friend to appear. With the long winding roads down to the house they had taken longer than originally planned to arrive and the gentleman, one James Fraser, had been forced to leave and attend to his milking duties before he’d actively met his new house guest.

Not that any of them minded. In her own head she was still rolling her new name, saying it over and over again as if to make herself believe it. At least when she was introduced she’d be able to return the greeting gesture with some authenticity.

“You can leave you know.” She had said this to the officers on several occasions. Knowing little about milking, she did assume it wasn’t a quick job and had been quick to allude to the face that Mr Fraser might be out for some time. Shaking their heads, though, they had pointed out that they were required to do handover and were not going to simply leave her without properly passing off to Mr Fraser.

Her living with another person brought about its own complications. For a start they both needed to be briefed on the situation, they both needed to know the implications and outcomes of anyone learning her existence (which they were bound to do at some point) and the severity of anyone learning her real name or her reason for being here.

She suspected that there was more of a backstory to come, but had waited patiently to be informed of it rather than asking. It was unlikely that John had sent her here with little more than a new name and she was ready and keen to adapt to this new situation.

He’d have the letter, she thought as she held the coke bottle tightly between her fingers. In the twenty-four hours she’d had to prepare her exit, she had written a letter to be delivered to her husband this morning so that he didn’t attempt to register her as a missing person. Though some of the force knew of her plan, naturally only a small few knew intimate details and most knew nothing at all. The last thing she needed was a group of policemen and women tracking her down and ruining the whole operation.

The sound of the key in the lock brought her attention away from her worries and she tried to relax herself so that she looked less like a deer in headlights and more like she was happy to be there. She was, of course, more than content to be far away from her old life but the trip had left her hollow and fatigued and she didn’t want to appear ungrateful the very first moment she met her unwitting host.

Smoothing down the thin material of her leggings, she surreptitiously wiped the sweat from her palms as she caught a glance of John’s friend.  Her mind, however, was torn between the present and the future and she found it almost impossible to keep herself grounded in the moment.

It wasn’t until they were all sitting in the lounge with a cup of tea did she even notice the tall stranger stood in front of her. They must have been talking for a good ten minutes, she noted internally, as the steam was still freshly piping off the brewed tea.

“So, Mr Fraser,” the officer stated, bringing her attention fully back to the room, “we’ve got a long drive home so we’ll leave you and Claire to get acquainted. The number in the envelope is the contact should you have any emergency concerns but it should only be used when really necessary. Alright?”

“Aye.” Mr Fraser responded quietly, shaking both her driver’s hands before ushering them out.

Once alone, she picked up her tea and blew across the top. The front room was tall and airy, certainly quite old, probably built around the early 18th century. She took note of the engraved sconces, the plain wallpaper and the large fireplace as she waited to be joined again. Enthralled by the rather encompassing oil painting, she jumped a little as Fraser entered the room.

“That’s a great-aunt of some description, if I remember correctly. Painted sometime in the 1890’s before the turn of the century. She was keen on highland dancing, hence the flashy tartans surrounding her. A lost art, I fear.”

A small smile pulled at his lips, he seemed calm but not yet used to human companionship.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t think I caught your name.”

“Jamie,” he replied, holding his hand out to meet hers, “Jamie Fraser.”

“And you live here alone?”

Clearly he did, she had been told as much but her mind had gone blank. Between leaving Oxford, the long drive and transforming into someone new in a few short hours, her brain was looking for conversation starters and coming up blank.

“Aye, have done for a good few years now. The farm takes a lot of work, I have a few helpers from nearby plots that come and help when needed, but I mostly dinna notice.”

“Long hours then?”

“From dawn to dusk most days, though I have been known to take a day off.”

His joke made her smile and she sipped her tea to stop it from becoming a full on fatigued laugh.

Seeing the glazed look pass over her eyes, Jamie cocked his head and pointed to the staircase at the back of the room. “Would you like me to show you to your room? I’m sure you’ve already had a long weekend. It has an ensuite so you can just rest in there until you feel human again?”

Nodding she felt grateful that he hadn’t used her new name yet. In her own head she’d had trouble making herself believe it and she wasn’t sure it was familiar enough yet for her to answer to it. As they walked, her filled suitcase in his hands whilst she hoisted her rucksack onto her back, she tried to repeat it to herself over and over. It felt strange that she could no longer think of herself as Elizabeth. Luckily, she wouldn’t have to worry about strangers calling out in public and her answering them.

It stung, though, to remember that she was locked down and unable to investigate her new home.

“This is it.” Opening the door, Jamie took a step inside.

The room was vast. Another great fireplace centred the room and there were doors either side of it.

“To the left is a closet for your clothes, I’ve emptied it aside from a couple of shoe boxes of old photos, I hope you don’t mind. To the right is the bathroom. It has a wetroom-type shower and a toilet. There is a bath, but it’s in the main bathroom down the hall, feel free to use it any time.”

Getting clean and into fresh clothes was at the top of her agenda and a calm washed over her as she saw the solid four-poster bed, all made up with light blue sheets and pre-fluffed pillows.

“Thanks, Jamie, for everything.”

Having missed her chance to thank John, she felt like all she would be able to say to Jamie for weeks was thank you.

“Nay bother. Just…” he paused for a moment, his hand resting tightly over the door handle as he moved to leave, “everything here is yours too, aye? Make yerself at home. I work a lot, long hours and long weeks, so I’ll be here there and everywhere. There’s food in the kitchen, a TV in the living area at the back of the house as well as books and more creative things.” He was talking fast, his nervousness becoming clearer as he tried to give a verbal account of the facilities without forgetting anything important. “Through the kitchen there is a door, it leads down into the cellar. That’s where the washing machine and dryer are if you want to wash yer clothes...anything else…?”

He had placed her suitcase down by the door and was running his hands through his hair as he tried to think whether he needed to mention anything else.

“Thank you.” She said again, giving him a free pass to leave now he seemed settled that he’d bought her attention to the most important appliances. “It really is extremely kind of you to open your home at such short notice.”

“It’s a pleasure,” returning her gesture, he held out his hand and took hers, shaking it lightly as she backed towards the bed and he moved back into the doorway, “Claire.”

It felt strange to hear him finally say it and the sound of his deep scottish accent stayed with her long after he’d closed the door and disappeared back downstairs. As she wandered slowly around her suite she opened and closed her right hand, the warmth of his palm still echoed in her flesh. Having had tender relationships before, it was almost as if her flesh knew the touch of someone gentle before the rest of her did.

Whatever it had been dissipated as she caught sight of the brown envelope sticking out of her purse and she took a seat on the bed before pulling a series of pieces of paper from it.

Jamie must have been introduced whilst she’d been in her haze as she didn’t remember anything prior to noticing the cup of tea and, with tired eyes, she pushed the notes aside, eager to get some rest before reading on further.

The clock on the mantel ticked, the click of the hands signalling another hour gone by and before she knew it, darkness surrounded her.

Having fallen asleep between the mass of her new life story, she rubbed her closed lids, yawned and then rose. Her limbs felt heavy, her joints stiff from being in the same position for hours. Stumbling across the room, she felt around for the light switch before investigating the small bathroom attached to her living space.

It was new, that was certain, the porcelain and white tiles sparkling with a sheen that only occurred right before they were sullied with condensation. She pulled the extractor fan cable, switched the shower on and turned up the heat before shedding her clothes and standing beneath the spray. Fortunately there was a towel neatly arranged on the heated handrail, she noticed, as she washed the journey from her skin with some nice lemon scented shower gel.

Clean and dry, she tucked herself between the sheets, carefully stacking and placing the paper back in the envelope before she did so.

That can wait, she thought, her eyes closing before her head even hit the pillow. Once more, sleep found her easily, the swirls of pixelated colour appearing behind her closed eyelids as she began to dream. Silence surrounded her, not like the hum of the city that buzzed in her ears whilst she slept in Oxford, but the blissful nothingness that remote country living afforded those who inhabited it. For that she was grateful.

Kind, blue eyes invaded the deep black nothingness and she felt warm and safe. Snuggling further down into the duvet, she let the warmth encase her as she finally allowed herself to relax.