In the morning Jamie seemed more cheerful, or at least more peaceful, as though a difficult decision had been reached. He promised me hot tea for supper, which was small comfort then in the frigid air. Sleepily I followed him back to the path, brushing pine needles and small spiders from my skirt. The narrow path faded during the morning to no more than a faint trace through rough sheep’s fescue, zigzagging around the more prominent rocks.
I had been paying little attention to our surroundings, as I dreamily enjoyed the growing warmth of the sun, but suddenly my eye struck a familiar rock formation and I started out of my torpor. I knew where we were. And why.
“Jamie!”
He turned at my exclamation.
“You didna know?” he asked curiously.
“That we were coming here? No, of course not.” I felt mildly sick. The hill of Craigh na Dun was no more than a mile away; I could see the hump-backed shape of it through the last shreds of the morning mist.
…
“It’s your place,” he said roughly. “Isn’t it?”
“Yes.” I stared as though hypnotized at the stone circle. “It looks just the same.”
Jamie followed me into the circle. Taking me by the arm, he marched firmly up to the split rock.
“Is it this one?” he demanded.
“Yes.” I tried to pull away. “Careful! Don’t go too near it!” He glanced from me to the rock, clearly skeptical. Perhaps he was right to be. I felt suddenly doubtful of the truth of my own story.
…
“I walked round the circle, looking at things. Just randomly, though; there was no pattern. And then I came near to the split rock, and I heard a buzzing, like bees—”
It was still like bees. I drew back as though it had been the rattle of a snake.
“It’s still here!” I reared in panic, throwing my arms around Jamie, but he set me firmly away from him, his face white, and turned me once again toward the stone.
“What then?” The keening wind was sharp in my ears, but his voice was sharper still.
“I put my hand on the rock.”
“Do it, then.” He pushed me closer, and when I did not respond, he grasped my wrist and planted my hand firmly against the brindled surface.
Chaos reached out and grabbed me.
The sun stopped whirling behind my eyes at last, and the shriek faded out of my ears. There was another persistent noise, Jamie calling my name.
I felt too sick to sit up or open my eyes, but I flapped my hand weakly, to let him know I was still alive.
“I’m all right,” I said.
“Are ye then? Oh, God, Claire!” He clasped me against his chest then, holding me tightly. “Jesus, Claire. I thought ye were dead, sure. You…you began to…go, somehow. You had the most awful look on your face, like ye were frightened to death. I—I pulled ye back from the stone. I stopped ye, I shouldna have done so—I’m sorry, lassie.”
…
At last he turned to me and grasped both my hands. He raised them to his lips and kissed each one formally.
“My lady,” he said softly. “My…Claire. It’s no use in waiting. I must part wi’ ye now.”
My lips were too stiff to speak, but the expression on my face must have been as easily readable as usual.
“Claire,” he said urgently, “it’s your own time on the other side of…that thing. You’ve a home there, a place. The things that you’re used to. And…and Frank.”
“Yes,” I said, “there’s Frank.”
Jamie caught me by the shoulders, pulling me to my feet and shaking me gently in supplication.
“There’s nothing for ye on this side, lass! Nothing save violence and danger. Go!” He pushed me slightly, turning me toward the stone circle. I turned back to him, catching his hands.
“Is there really nothing for me here, Jamie?” I held his eyes, not letting him turn away from me.
He pulled himself gently from my grasp without answering and stood back, suddenly a figure from another time, seen in relief upon a background of hazy hills, the life in his face a trick of the shadowing rock, as if flattened beneath layers of paint, an artist’s reminiscence of forgotten places and passions turned to dust.
I looked into his eyes, filled with pain and yearning, and he was flesh again, real and immediate, lover, husband, man.
The anguish I felt must have been reflected in my face, for he hesitated, then turned to the east and pointed down the slope. “Do ye see behind the small clump of oak down there? About halfway.”
I saw the clump, and saw what he was pointing at, the half-ruined crofter’s cottage, abandoned on the haunted hill.
“I shall go down to the house, and I shall stay there ’til the evening. To make sure—to be sure that you’re safe.” He looked at me, but made no move to touch me. He closed his eyes, as though he could no longer bear to look at me.
“Goodbye,” he said, and turned to go.
…
He stepped off the ledge and made his way down the steep incline, bracing his feet against tufts of grass, catching at branches to keep his balance, not looking back. I watched him until he disappeared into the oak clump, walking slowly, like a man wounded, who knows he must keep moving, but feels his life ebbing slowly away through the fingers he has clenched over the wound.
My knees were trembling. Slowly, I lowered myself to the granite shelf and sat cross-legged, watching the swallows about their business. Below, I could just see the roof of the cottage that now held my past. At my back loomed the cleft stone. And my future.
…
As the evening star began to glow among the black pines’ branches, I concluded that in this situation reason was of little use. I would have to rely on something else; just what, I wasn’t sure. I turned toward the split rock and took a step, then another, and another. Pausing, I faced around and tried it in the other direction. A step, then another, and another, and before I even knew that I had decided, I was halfway down the slope, scrabbling wildly at grass clumps, slipping and falling through the patches of granite scree.
…
I stood watching him for a moment, filled with an unutterable tenderness.
—Outlander/Cross Stitch
Photos: Starz, Season One, Episode Eleven, April 18, 2015
Photo: safer-place.de (Goodbye)
Gif: gneppyuniverse.altervista.org (Jamie)
Gif: outlanderamerica.com (Jamie & Claire)
Book: Outlander (Cross Stitch), Diana Gabaldon, 1991
Tumblr: September 19, 2018, WhenFraserMetBeauchamp 🏴❤️🇬🇧
WFMB’s Tags: #Outlander #Season One Episode Eleven #S1E11 #The Devil’s Mark #Outlander/Cross Stitch #Chapter Twenty-Five #It’s your place, isn’t it? #Chaos reached out and grabbed me #There’s nothing for ye on this side, lass! #I stood watching him for a moment, filled with an unutterable tenderness #Claire Fraser #Jamie Fraser #60 #091918
