Young Ian looked smug about something. Jamie knew that was rarely a good sign. Having sufficiently scolded his nephew – who hadn’t even bothered to lie or twist the truth about having absconded from Lallybroch without his parents’ knowledge – Jamit turned his attention to the lass Young Ian had brought with him.
She looked petrified, poor thing. Who was she and what had Young Ian told her as he brought her here? Why had he brought her here? No doubt part of her open-mouthed fear had to do with the yelling Jamie had just done in front of her.
“Apologies, lass,” Jamie said, bowing his head in her direction. “I ought not to have carried on so in front of ye. I’m Alexander malcolm and–”
“I already told her that’s no yer name, Uncle,” Young Ian confessed.
“Iffrin,” Jamie muttered under his breath.
The lass continued to watch him carefully. I unnerved him, her gaze. There was something familiar about her… He must know some of her people – her father or a sibling perhaps.
“Ian says yer name is Brianna?” The name felt awkward in his mouth.
“Brianna,” she confirmed but with a different emphasis, a different accent. Her voice was quiet and unsteady.
“I met her on the road from Lallybroch,” Young Ian explained. “She was lost and I told her I’d help her find her way to Inverness on my way back. I told her ye’d be fine wi’ her stayin’ wi’ us as I couldna leave her to fend for herself.”
Jamie kept his face controlled, motionless as he fought the urge to wring his nephew’s neck. His rented rooms were small and cramped and he felt no guilt making Young Ian sleep on the floor when he ran away like this – just part of his punishment really. But he couldn’t let the lass sleep so rough. What had possessed the lad to make such an offer?
“Ye’re lost then?” Jamie asked, turning to Brianna, hoping her plight would help to calm and refocus him.
But she only nodded, still too nervous or frightened to speak.
“Well, Ian’s right – I’ll no turn ye away do ye need a safe place, but it’s no the lap of luxury.”
All he got was another nod.
Jamie sighed and reached past the shrinking girl to take Young Ian by the shoulder and pull him toward the back of the shop. “A word,” he demanded.
“Where did ys find the lass?” he asked under his breath, his eyes drifting to watch her as she relaxed a little and began to look around the shop.
“It was near the fairy hill,” Young Ian explained quietly. “Craig na Dun.”
A chill went up Jamie’s spine at the mention of that dreaded place. Perhaps the lass – like Claire – had been ripped from all that she knew and was truly lost the way Young Ian said… Had she confided in his nephew? Would she need more help than the lad kent to offer?
“And ye say she’s on her way back to Inverness?” Jamie raised an eyebrow at Young Ian who tried his best to look insulted.
“Tha’s where she asked to be taken,” he explained.
“And so she will be,” Jamie nodded. “Because I’m going to see here there with ye.” (With a stop at the stones if it pleased the lass.) “Then I’m takin’ ye all the way home to Lallybroch.”
Young Ian’s face fell at the prospect.
“But Da’s likely on his way to fetch me as it is and ye cannae afford to take the time away,” the lad objected. “Really, it would help you and them back home more did ye convince Da to let me stay here and work wi’ ye.”
“I’m no interested in an apprentice as doesna do as he’s told,” Jamie countered. “Stop runnin’ away, help yer mam and da for a year wi’out complaint and then we’ll see if ye’re a fair prospect for me to take on. Now, we’ll leave tomorrow if I can manage the arrangements this afternoon. Day after if it takes longer to settle. And whatever this costs me in business, ye’ll be makin’ up to me should I desire to hire ye in future.” Jamie pointed a finger at an increasingly dejected Young Ian before turning to the lass to tell her the plan.
She was standing Looking over the copy of Pamela from the shelf of popular titles he stocked for patrons to examine. And she was. There was an amazement and reverence to how she held the book, a care to how she turned the pages, a curiosity as she ran her finger over the seams and spine.
“Ye can read then, lass,” he said, unintentionally startling her.
The book fell to the counter as she pressed a hand to her chest and muttered, “Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ.”
Jamie had been reaching for the book as he saw it falling but was lucky to grab the counter and brace himself as he felt the world shift beneath his feet.
“Uncle Jamie?!” Young Ian cried, dashing over to the man’s side. “Are ye alright?” He looked to Brianna, confused.
But her full attention was on Jamie and she looked frozen and maybe a little terrified.
Jamie brushed off Young Ian’s hand as he got his feet back under him, his own gaze fixed on Brianna, looking her over more closely. The familiarity he’d felt before… how had he misplaced it? She looked like the portrait of his mother still gracing the walls of Lallybroch. He’d always found something irresistible about the way Claire carried herself – not the self-assured confidence of a vain and beautiful woman used to being flattered (though Claire had certainly been the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen), but the confident bearing of a woman who knew and was sure of herself.
Despite the uncertainty and hesitation in her eyes, Brianna stood taller, rising to meet and hold his confused and hungry attention. It was something he’d seen Claire do a hundred times.
“Ye ken who I am?” Jamie croaked, then swallowed hard against the swelling in his throat. His hands felt clammy and shook as he tried to wipe them surreptitiously on his breeks. “Are… are you who I think you are?” he whispered.
“Are you Jamie Fraser?” Brianna asked, her eyes darting briefly – accusingly – to Young Ian. “Your nephew never did tell me your real name.”
“I am,” Jamie nodded. “And ye’re my… Claire – she… she told ye then? She sent ye?”
“She told me,” Brianna confirmed quietly. “She also told me you were dead.”
“Then she is yer daughter,” Young Ian piped up, victory rising in his voice. “I kent ye must be, soon as ye said yer mam’s name was Claire and that she was English. Ye’re the spit of Uncle Jamie and everyone at Lallybroch kens the stories–”
“Ian,” Jamie interrupted sharply. “Go see to the back.”
“See to what in the back?”
“Just go.”
“Ah… right. I’ll leave ye two to get acquainted,” Young Ian rambled, color rising in his cheeks and a smug expression blooming on his face. He disappeared from the room, though, and Jamie finally looked away from Brianna long enough to move to the front door and lock it against further disruption.
“Is Claire… How is she?” Jamie asked, still too unsure what to make of the grown daughter standing before him.
“Well, she’s probably worried and pissed at me,” Brianna said with a wary sigh. “My trip here wasn’t exactly planned – I mean, not just to Edinburgh but to seventeen-whatever year this is.”
“1766,” Jamie informed her. “It’s been twenty years since I bid yer mother farewell… I’ve thought of her – of both of ye – and prayed for ye every day since then.”
His voice was quiet and sad, broken and earnest. It tugged at Brianna’s chest in an unexpected way. She’d heard that sorrowful longing before.
It had been in her mother’s voice when she’d told Brianna about Jamie – about losing him.
She took a step closer to him and reached out to rest her hand on his arm. He stilled beneath her touch like an animal spooked and debating whether to flee or play dead. The thought helped put her own trepidation into perspective. He was just as intimidated by her as she was by him – perhaps more.
Brianna reached for what they had in common and found further comfort in speaking about her mother.
“I’m pretty sure she thought about you and prayed for you a lot too,” she told him. “I didn’t know about you for a long time growing up, but since she told me… there are a lot of things about her and about her and Daddy that make more sense now.”
“Frank,” Jamie replied with a tamed disgust that gave Brianna pause. “Did he treat ye well? Both of ye?”
“Always,” she said confidently before flashes of doubt flickered in her now-untrusted memory. “At least… I know he loved me and never treated me… I don’t even know. I never doubted him or questioned that he – and I always though he and Mama were happy. Now… now I wish I’d listened to her more when she was telling me the whole story and that I hadn’t – well, let’s just say I could’ve handled the news about you better.” She flushed, remembering her behavior.
For the first time the air of sorrow and longing lifted and she noticed curiosity creep into Jamie’s face.
“Aye, I can imagine it must’ve come as a shock to ye,” he assured her, his tone slightly cautious. “I didna ken what to make of it myself when she first told me the truth of where she was from. Didna matter much to me either – I was already too far gone for her. But she didna seem to care o’er much for my askin’ her was she a witch.”
Brianna stifled a laugh as the mental image of her mother first as the Wicked Witch of the West popped into her head before it transformed into Claire as Glinda floating in her giant bubble. Traveling by bubble was far more appealing than the thought of touching those stones again.
“I may have called her a few colorful things,” Brianna confessed. “I don’t think ‘witch’ was one of them, though. No, I was thinking more about the poker I hurled through the window,” she added in a quieter voice.
His eyebrows shot up in surprise and then she laughed. The surprise faded to an amused and prideful smile.
“Well… that might be a bit of the Fraser temper,” Jamie told her with a knowing nod, then leaned conspiratorially forward. “Though yer mam did throw a bit of crockery now and again – usually at my head.”
It was Brianna’s turn to mirror his surprised and impressed expression. This time they both laughed, drawing Young Ian from the back room.
Ian had secured them lodgings for the night. They would reach Edinburgh the next day by his reckoning and he assured Claire that it was highly likely that Brianna and Young Ian had already reached the safety of Jamie and the printshop.
“Ye’ve heard it from at least three folks as have seen them making their way,” he reminded her as they ate from a tray in their meagre room. She would (reluctantly) take the bed while Ian and Roger made do on the floor with the pillows and blankets she insisted they take from the bed.
“Aye, Claire,” Roger chimed in, “she’s no alone and that’s the key thing. She’s safe and we’ll find her.”
“I don’t doubt that,” she asserted, though with less conviction than she hoped to convey. “It’s just… if I’d known he was alive and that they’d be meeting one another… It’s not how I would’ve wanted them to meet is all. For them to be blindsided by it–”
“I doubt Ian managed to keep it secret from her, did he truly ken who she was,” Ian speculated. “He’s the Mackenzie knack for plotting mischief, but no the knack for carrying it out well. More like to muck it up, that one,” he finished with a laugh.
He rose to carry away the empty tray over Claire and Roger’s objections.
Left alone, Roger still kept his voice low as he asked Claire, “Have ye thought what ye mean to say to Jamie when ye see him? What it means now ye ken he’s alive?”
Claire face told him what he already suspected – she’d been thinking of little else.
“Ye said it gets worse each time ye try to pass through the stones, aye? And ye werena sure ye’d even survive a trip back… Maybe… maybe it’s because yer place is here with Jamie,” he suggested.
“And where would that leave Brianna?” Claire challenged. “She’s still not over losing Frank and everything she’s ever known has just been pulled out from under her. What kind of mother would I be if I abandoned her now too?”
“Maybe ye won’t have to choose,” Roger replied, hope and resignation warring within him. “Maybe she’ll want to say.”
“I doubt that very much.”
Roger looked at Claire until he caught her attention completely.
“She didna just pass through the stones and run straight back,” he reminded her. “Brianna chose to come to Edinburgh. And she’ll have met a father she didna ken she had. You didna think to stay until ye met Jamie. She might surprise ye.”
“I’ve lived longer with both Brianna and the pull of life on either side of those stones,” Claire pointed out.
“And? What do ye think will come of it?”
“Heartbreak. Maybe not at first, but eventually. And the bit before the heartbreak has to be enough to help you survive it all.”
“Well,” Roger nodded and smiled. “I’ve heard ye tell plenty of yer time here before ye went back, so I think it’s a safe bet to say it will be.”
Anonymous asked: #15 a Hope we Don't Get Caught Kiss
This is a part of a series of ficlets I’m writing in answer to THIS post. Enjoy! This particular one turned into a wee prelude to THIS series.
“Shh!” she whispered harshly, closing the front door behind him. “No one’s home!”
“This is maybe no’ the best idea...”
“Shut up!”
Grasping his warm hand in hers, she pulled him through the house and up the stairs. He complained quietly the whole time, but she ignored him. At the top of the stairs, she stopped and turned to him, smiling.
“Mam and Da are wi’ Auntie Jenny and Uncle Ian. They willna be home for a while.”
“Bree... If we’re the only ones here, why are ye whispering?”
She huffed and took both his hands in hers, pulling him into her room. When Roger didn’t kiss her back, she stepped away and looked up at him.
“Ye said ye loved me,” she said quietly.
“Aye! Aye I do! But don’t ye want your first time to be... special?”
Frowning in confusion, she took another step back.
“It’s wi’ you. It’ll be special. I love you.”
Then his eyes warmed and she smiled, knowing that look. She’d won.
As his arms came around her, she grinned against his lips. With a gentleness she didn’t know he had, he laid her down on her bed. How many times had she woken up from a dream about him? Far too many. In this very bed. But this, now... This was better than a dream.
They wriggled beneath the sheets and she couldn’t help giggling. Her body tingled as his hands explored beneath her shirt. Desperate to move this along, she pulled her shirt off and began tugging at his.
“Easy there,” Roger chuckled. “I’ll no’ rush this.”
Then he was kissing her again, slowly. One hand slid around her body and fumbled with the hook of her bra. She sat up a little, trying to give him space. When she felt it release, she looked up to meet his eyes.
“Are ye still sure ye want this?”
“Aye,” she breathed, pulling the garment off and dropping it over the side of the bed. “I am. Wi’ you.”
After some awkward fumbling, she got her jeans off and over the side before moving to his. He’d just begun to kiss her again when the door burst open.
After learning the truth from Claire, a furious Brianna runs to Craig na Dun to prove her mother’s crazy only to fall through the stones herself.
Part One, Part Two, Part Three
******************************************
Roger watched, speechless as the man scrambled down from his horse and awkwardly stumbled toward Claire, who rushed to meet him in a warm embrace.
“Wha– How? Claire, where have ye been these years? We despaired of ye and thought ye dead long ago,” Ian said as he pulled back from her, wiping a hand over his face.
Roger finally noticed the man’s leg and the pieces slipped into place.
“The brother-in-law,” he said quietly.
Not quietly enough.
“Yes, Roger, this is Ian Murray. Jamie was his brother-in-law, married to his sister, Jenny. But how is Jenny?” Claire pressed on, ignoring Ian’s larger, more daunting questions. “Are she and the children well?”
Still too shocked by Claire’s appearing on the road, Ian blinked and fell into the habit of politeness. “Aye, Jenny’s well enough – and the bairns. We’ve a sight more’n when we last saw ye – grandbairns too. Claire… why? Why did ye no even write to tell us ye yet lived? Jamie never said… He must think ye dead.”
Roger saw Claire begin to sway where she stood and stepped forward, a steadying hand at her back. She leaned into him and nearly caused him to stumble.
“What do ye mean, Jamie thinks she’s dead?” Roger asked, Claire’s weight growing heavier and her breathing coming drawn and shaky.
“Who are you?” Ian asked rather than answer. “Claire, who is this lad?”
“Jamie’s alive?” Claire managed to ask, the reluctance and need to hope in each quiet word.
Ian’s face softened and the tears returned to his eyes. “Aye. Had a mind to die when he arrived, wounded in a wagon. But Jenny wouldna allow it. We thought… with the news of the battle and the army… and what they did after as they set upon the Highlands… We thought ye must be dead and Jamie… He didna say much but what little he did say was that ye were gone – lost.”
“He sent me away,” Claire murmured. She wasn’t leaning into Roger quite as heavily but he could feel her trembling with the shock. “He made me leave. He wanted to be sure we’d be safe.”
Ian looked to Roger with wide eyes but Roger shook his head and held out a hand.
“Roger Wakefield. I’m a family friend.”
“Ian Murray, though ye kent that.”
“Claire’s mentioned ye, aye,” Roger confirmed.
“Jamie’s alive,” Claire murmured again, this time with more conviction. “Where is he? Is he at Lallybroch? Do… do you think he would want to see me?”
“Oh, he’d want to see ye alright, though the shock of it might well stop him dead. He’s no at Lallybroch. Has a print shop in Edinburgh. I’m on my way there now, as it happens. My youngest lad – Ian – has up and left, scarin’ Jenny and me, though we ken that’s no his intent. I’d be more worrit did he no go to Jamie every time like a pup after its playmate. But Claire… If ye thought Jamie dead and ye didna write or come to us in the past twenty years… Why are ye here now? Did ye finally have a mind to tell us ye were safe?”
Claire blinked at Ian, awareness of the present returning to her slowly. She glanced at Roger and snapped the rest of the way back to herself.
“I’m looking for my daughter,” she admitted and, when she saw surprise and hope in Ian’s face, Claire confirmed, “She’s Jamie’s. He knew I carried a child and could see how hopeless it was by the time we reached Culloden. His name was on Prince Charles’ declaration – whatever happened he would be… So he decided it would be in battle, that he would go down fighting. But he made me go, knew I wouldn’t be safe at Lallybroch because I would be his widow. I got out and survived a journey to the colonies. I married a man there and he agreed to raise Brianna as his own–”
“Brianna?” Ian interrupted.
“I promised Jamie… It was the last thing he asked of me. All this time I thought he was…” Claire broke down and both men stepped forward to offer her comfort, inspiring a frustrated laugh instead. “The bloody man meant to die. If I’d thought…”
“Aye, Claire. I ken ye wouldna have gone and ye wouldna have kept yer distance,” Ian said. “But where’s the lass now? Now ye’re here and ken the truth, Jamie’ll want to see ye both.”
“I hadn’t told her growing up – the truth about her father. But my husband died and… He was the one who didn’t want her to know and once he was gone…”
“She didna take it well,” Roger added. “She ran off and we’ve come searchin’ for her.”
“Did ye tell her of Lallybroch? Would she be makin’ her way there?” Ian asked glancing back over his shoulder at the way he’d come.
“If you’d encountered her, you would have known her,” Clair assured him with a proud smile. “She looks too much like him.”
Ian chuckled and shook his head. “Well, I might as well help ye search for her. Young Ian will be safe enough wi’ Jamie in Edinburgh and I’d like to see Jamie’s face when I turn up wi’ his lost child for a change.”
Roger looked to Claire who had indeed somehow managed to turn paler.
“Ye’re sure she came this way?”
“We think she must be headed in tha’ direction,” Roger explained, distracting Ian from Claire till she could better collect herself. “More certain now ye’ve confirmed ye havana seen her already.”
Ian glanced back over his shoulder again, his brow furrowed.
“How long ago do ye expect she’d ha’ come through this way?” Ian asked.
“It would only have been sometime last night. We expected her to come back by morning on her own,” Roger said before catching himself – at least he hadn’t mentioned where they’d been when she went missing, Inverness being too far away for any of them to have gotten so far so fast.
But Ian led his horse over to the side of the road where the terrain began to dip again and a small, rundown cabin hid from view.
“My lad has a habit of restin’ there on his way through this stretch,” he told them. “Caught him up here once and tanned his hide by that tree. I’d guess he’d ha’ been here either last night or the day before if he’d managed to ride along wi’ someone passing through. There’s a chance… If yer lass truly has as much of Jamie’s looks as ye say…”
Claire started and Roger frowned.
“Ye cannae think… Brianna would never…” he objected.
“I’m not so sure,” Claire said. “She is a Fraser, after all.”
Ian laughed. “Aye. They dinna always do what makes sense, especially if their hearts are muddled o’er something. And my lad’s a fair bit of the Mackenzie about him or he’d no have managed to sneak away and make it to Jamie in Edinburgh so many times. Actually, if he’s a companion, it just might slow him down enough to catch him up.” Ian turned to swing himself back up onto his horse. “I’ll ride ahead a ways and try to find ye horses, then swing back to meet ye as best I can.”
“Thank you, Ian,” Claire called.
“When we’ve more time I expect to hear more of yer travels and life in the colonies,” he told her. “And Jenny will have a fair few questions of her own.”
Claire watched him ride ahead, neither her nor Roger able to take a single step from their spont in the middle of the road.
“Jamie’s alive,” Roger said at last, his astonishment written across his face.
Disbelief, hope and fear warred across Claire’s.
******************************************
Edinburgh was incredible. Brianna hadn’t been for more than a shopping trip with her mother early in their visit but that had only been a few weeks ago… for her. What would she make of Inverness? She’d spent more of the visit there and the surrounding area.
Ian had to take her hand and pull her along on several occasions so they wouldn’t be separated.
“Come along, cousin,” he said, causing her to frown. “Ye ken our uncle’s shop is this way.”
“When are you gonna stop doing that?” she hissed. It had been one thing when they were on the road and needed to project some sort of family relationship for their safety.
“Just a wee bit longer at least,” Ian teased. “There’s the sign.”
“A. Malcolm? What’s the ‘A’ for?”
“Alexander, but that’s no really his name – Malcolm either. They’re part of his given name but he couldna easily use his real name as he’s a bit notorious, ken?” Ian rambled excitedly, ushering Brianna forward through the shop door, a bell announcing their entrance.
“Geordie?” a voice called from the back room.
Brianna tried to move off to the side out of the way but Ian’s hand found its way to her back, gently guiding her closer to the counter.
“No, Uncle Jamie,” Ian answered. “It’s only me and I’ve someone I want ye to meet.”
Brianna had frozen at the name. Jamie. But there was no way… She hadn’t told Ian the name of the man her mother had claimed was her father and anyway, Jamie Fraser was dead. James must be as common a name as any and Jamie as well – look at all the Willies and Rabbies there were about.
But there was something in the way Ian was standing behind her, the energy of him, the teasing…
How could he possibly have guessed? How could Jamie Fraser be alive?
Footsteps approached and Brianna could hear the man speaking – scolding – as he made his way to the front of the store.
As soon as she saw him, she knew how Ian had known his uncle was her father.
Her mother hadn’t lied when she said Brianna looked just like Jamie Fraser
Having been raised by a bachelor, Roger sort of looks to Claire and Jamie for a model of what marriage looks like. Likewise, Bree's model was of a "marriage of obligation" until she met Jamie. In the books, they both observe Jamie and Claire having positive interactions, but what do they make of Jamie and Claire's fights?
“What is it they’re arguin’ over?” Roger whispered to Brianna.
“They haven’t said a word,” Brianna murmured with amazement.
Jamie and Claire moved about the yard in a careful dance of pointed looks and close brushes with one another. But rather than their usual reverent touches – a casual hand on the small of Claire’s back or gentle brushing of dirt from Jamie’s arm – there was a deliberate absence of such gestures on both sides.
“No a word to ye in private either?” Roger pressed.
“Nope. Mama just came into the kitchen this morning in a mood and I could hear Da muttering in Gaelic when he went by the window,” Bree explained. She shook her head and adjusted Jemmy’s weight on her hip as he lurched for Roger expecting more attention than his mother was willing to pay him in the moment.
Roger took Jemmy, untucking the ends of his neckcloth for the toddler to play with, keeping his own attention on Jamie and Claire.
“I thought yer father was teachin’ ye the Gaidhlig,” Roger teased.
Brianna snorted. “Oh I understood a few of the things he said but not because he taught them to me intentionally. Maybe you should go talk to him,” she suggested as her mirth faded. “Maybe they just need to talk to someone about it – get whatever it is out in the open.”
“And I’m yer sacrificial lamb? I don’ think so. I’m no about to come between ‘em when they’re like this. I’d say it already is in the open between them and it’s their business to sort.”
“And ours to just speculate about?” Brianna snapped and rolled her eyes.
“Would ye want the pair of them inserting themselves in a quarrel ‘tween the two of us?” Roger turned it around.
Brianna shrugged. “That would depend on the quarrel and whose side they were on.”
“Meanin’ ye’d want their support were it behind you and ye’d tell them to bugger off did they agree wi’ me,” Roger summarized with a roll of his eyes. “Aye, ye’re a Fraser alright.”
“Actually, from all I’ve heard, that would be the Mackenzie blood in action – of which, you have your fair share.”
Brianna and Roger had let their teasing draw their attention toward one another and away from Jamie and Claire but a loud exclamation from Claire quickly drew it back.
Claire was shaking off Jamie’s grip on her arm. The unspoken rule against touching had been broken but from Jamie’s heated self defense Claire managed to put herself in his face (a feat given how much shorter she stood) it appeared to have been some protective, instinctive act.
“Oh geez,” Brianna muttered, glancing to Jemmy in Roger’s arms (The toddler was still gnawing on his father’s neckcloth, soaking it with drool.) “You don’t think they’ll come to blows over whatever it is, do you? At Lallybroch I heard things got physical between them when Mama learned about Laoghaire.”
“Did ye hear in what way it got physical?” Roger asked, an eyebrow raised as he watched his wife’s parents.
Jamie looked red in the face and if Roger had to place it he would have said the color was down to the man’s embarrassment as much as anger… and given how often he’d seen that combination on Brianna’s face, he was pretty confident she recognized it too.
Claire laughed, a clear and bright sound ringing through the clearing and breaking the tense atmosphere. Jamie was clearly struggling to hold onto his anger or frustration – or maybe it had been indignation. It was impossible to tell as Claire reached up to brush something from his shoulder, the loving hand and tidying touch an olive branch of sorts.
Jamie submitted, cracking a smile and listening to Claire as she inched closer and the tidying touch became a caress, her hand sliding to his neck and up to cup his cheek.
Whatever she said had Jamie laughing a second later and sweeping Claire into his arms another second after that. He spun them around once, twice before setting Claire’s feet back on the ground and capturing her mouth in a kiss, finally releasing her for good.
“Amazing,” Roger breathed as the pair of them watched Jamie and Claire resume their same routine, this time going out of their way to touch, to keep in proximity to one another – to make up for those shunned opportunities just a few minutes earlier.
“I want to fight like that,” Brianna said with a sigh. Then she caught Roger’s skeptical expression. “Let me rephrase that – I want to be able to make up from a fight like that. They make it look so easy.”
Roger nodded slowly, finally rescuing his sodden neckcloth from Jemmy’s mouth.
“I’m sure it wasna so easy as it looked. I think they perhaps only ken each other and themselves so well,” Roger speculated. “And if that’s what it takes, I have faith we’ll fight and make up in a similar fashion in time. Though, I’d rather try to avoid practicin’ too much on the former. The makin’ up part I’ll give a go if ye like.”
Brianna laughed and moved to take Jemmy from Roger. He could use a nap and the scene in the yard no longer held her active interest.
“We can pretend to fight later when this one is down for the night so long as our ‘making up’ practice doesn’t wake him up. Otherwise any pretend fight might be less ‘pretend’ than intended.”
Imagine a still-angry Bree went to Craig na dun straight after Claire told her everything, to check out her mother's story, fell through the stones by mistake and met Jamie first.
The High Road and the Low Road - Part One
Brianna needed to get out of the house and just… away. She couldn’t stand to look at her mother just then and when she’d turned to Roger she’d been disappointed by what she found there. She’d thought they understood one another, thought he’d be on her side – the reasonable side.
But there had been something in his face as he looked at Claire Randall. If not outright belief in the ridiculous story she’d concocted to cover up an affair, then he’d at least been looking at her mother like he wanted to believe her.
And that was the last thing Brianna wanted right then.
It was Roger’s car. She’d seen him drop the keys in a bowl on the counter when they’d arrived. She looked at the gauge and saw there was a little less than half a tank left. She’d be good for a while. Not that she knew where she was going to go. It just had to be away – and preferably somewhere she could scream where no one would call the police.
Taking Roger’s car would slow them down if they tried to follow her.
Not if. When.
She didn’t mean to make it easy for them to find her.
As soon as she reached the main road, she headed in a direction that would take her away from town and began repeating aloud, “Left side of the road, left side of the road.”
The need to focus on fighting her American instincts and keep from drifting to the other lane actually helped her to calm down. A little.
She slammed on the brakes when she saw the sign, wincing when a horn blared behind her and another car flew past.
But then she was along and the rage returned. Craigh na dun. It was absurd that anyone could believe what her mother had said. It was absurd that the very thought of seeing the place was twisting her stomach into knots.
Gritting her teeth, Brianna put the car back in gear and sped in the direction of the signs. She would see these stones for herself if only to quell that feeling in her stomach, to be able to return to her mother and Roger and give them another telling off.
It was falling dark as Brianna reached the bottom of the hill and she could just make out the moon peeking between the low tree branches and the standing stones. The bravado of the drive shrank at the eerie sight.
But there was a stubborn streak that kept her feet moving toward the stones.
Her ears began to ring and her head to spin as she reached the center of the circle and touched the largest stone.
Pain. In her hand and arm and head. The buzzing in her ears became a scream and it was only as she felt her throat ache she realized she was the one who was screaming.
Her last thought before passing out was that her mother’s description of it all had fallen woefully short.
*********************************************
She wanted to throw up from fear as much as the nausea in her belly and the ringing headache that threatened to send her back under as soon as she tried to sit up.
Brianna scrambled backward, away from the stone, to the edge of the circle. The moon still shone in the sky and the stars seemed brighter too.
A few deep breaths helped to steady her enough to get to her feet. She brushed away grass and dirt that clung to the corduroy of her skirt.
Turning on her heel, she carefully made her way down the side of the hill in the direction where she’d left the car. With every step she scolded herself for being ridiculous and gullible enough to have let her mother’s tales affect her in such a way. With every step the buzzing and nausea faded and it was easier to tell herself that she had imagined the whole thing.
She’d taken too many steps. She should have reached Roger’s car by now or at least the solidity of the paved road.
Brianna turned around, peering into the darkness. Maybe she’d gotten herself turned around and had come down the wrong side of the hill. Making a quarter turn and referencing the gentle incline of the hill, she did her best to circle the hilltop.
It only made her feel more lost. She would have to wait until it grew lighter to complete her investigation of the hillside. In the meantime, she was getting cold and any chance of a blanket or additional protection from the elements was in the impossible-to-locate-in-the-dark car. (Why did Roger have to own a brown car? Why couldn’t it have been white and reflective?)
She couldn’t just lie down in the open. Looking around, she saw a faint light in the distance and made her way toward it. It didn’t appear to be moving, so not a car. It was dim, muted, so maybe a house with its curtains closed. But she didn’t think there were any houses this close to Craigh na Dun. She hadn’t noticed any as she passed to get there, anyway, but she was hardly an expert on the area and who lived there or where. She just needed someone who could loan her a flashlight or who had a telephone she could use (worrying her mother and Roger a little was one thing but she couldn’t let them go the whole night wondering where she’d gone).
Drawing nearer, Brianna was confused. It wasn’t a house – it would barely qualify as a shack. There was no door – well, no door left but old fashioned hinges clung to the frame to show there had been a door at one time. The roof appeared to have partially caved in but on the opposite side from where a short chimney stuck out with a faint trail of smoke rising from it.
Someone must be inside if a fire was lit but was it safe to casually announce her presence?
“Hello?” she called softly, approaching slowly now. “Anybody home? I uh… I’ve gotten myself a bit lost and can’t find the car in the dark – accidentally locked my flash – my torch inside. Do you have one you might… let me… borrow?”
There had been no sound, no sign of movement as she reached the door and decided to poke her head inside.
A low fire burned in a hearth that looked like it might collapse in on itself at any moment.
A figure was curled on its side on the dirt floor in front of the hearth. It was a boy – probably only a few years younger than herself. Maybe this was some play fort or campsite for him.
Brianna inched closer to the sleeping boy. “Hey… you,” she hissed but he didn’t stir. She gently nudged him with the toe of her boot.
Startled awake and confused, the boy rolled toward her with a threatening cry and a dagger in his hand, apparently ready to stab her.
“Whoa!” Brianna exclaimed, jumping back. “I don’t want trouble,” she promised. “Just looking for a little help is all.”
The boy calmed and relaxed as he woke further and realized he wasn’t actually being attacked.
“Ye scared the piss right out of me,” he told her, returning the dagger to a safe and concealed place in his belt.
“Who are you?” Brianna asked, stepping forward as the boy got to his feet.
“Ian Murray, ma’am,” he said, smiling and inclining his head toward her. “And what should I call you?”
“Brianna, but you can call me Bree.”
*********************************************
Claire hadn’t gone to bed and so Roger hadn’t either (though, he had dozed off and on in his chair by the fire). She spend most of the night staring out the window, watching for any sign of Brianna’s return.
Around five, the light finally beginning to show signs of returning, Roger rose from the chair and stretched, back cracking as he yawned. He went to the kitchen to make tea and toast, returning with a simple tray to try and get Claire to eat something.
“She couldna have gotten far on thwart was left in that tank,” he explained. Brianna didn’t know how quickly the needle could drop from half a tank to empty. “It’s likely she ran out of petrol, pulled over and spent the night in the back. She’ll have to walk a ways to a phone or wait till someone comes along as can give her a ride.” He offered Claire a steaming cup.
She took it, forcing a smile and nod of thanks before blowing on it but neglecting to take a sip.
“I want to believe you, Roger, but I’m afraid Bree is very much her father’s daughter… both of them. That display of temper was all Jamie… the running away afterward…”
“That ye think she learned from Frank?” Roger suggested.
With a sigh and another nod, Claire admitted, “Unfortunately, yes. And the last time we had a fight and he stormed off into the night, he was killed in a car accident.”
Roger felt his own teacup tremble in his hands at the thought. He set it down carefully as he apologized to Claire. “Christ, I hadna thought – I’m so sorry. If I’d realized – I should ha’ called someone to help and we could ha’ been searching for her through the night.”
Claire shook her head. “No, I’m sure she’s fine, like you said. Going after her might have only made matters worse anyhow. Frasers need to wear out their tempers a bit before you stand a chance of getting through to them.” At last she lifted her cup and took a sip of tea, closing her eyes as she swallowed and visibly willed herself to relax.
“Well, if she doesna return by lunch and hasna phoned, I’ll see if I can borrow Fiona’s car and you and I can look for her,” Roger promised. “Like I said, she couldna ha’ gone too far.”
As Claire smiled her thanks again, the telephone rang. Claire moved to get it before recalling it wasn’t her house and deferring to Roger.
He moved quickly and, expecting to hear Brianna on the other end, he answered, “Speak of the devil.”
“Roger?” Fiona’s voice replied.
Roger covered the receiver long enough to whisper to Claire, “Wrong devil.”
“Aye, I’m here,” he said louder to Fiona. “Sorry, it’s just… early.”
“Aye, tis and I wouldna have called so early – I’m a bit relieved ye answered at all. I was afraid… but ye’re there.”
“Aye, why would a not be?”
“Oh… well… Ye mayna ken but – ye see, my gran was part of a… a group. They’re… caretakers, ye might say. And since she passed, I took her place in the group.”
“Caretakers of what?”
“The standing circle at Craigh na Dun,” Fiona explained.
Roger felt himself growing colder, thought he must be paler from the step Claire took towards him.
“We take it in turns to visit them and see any rubbish is cleared up, that they’ve no been defaced and the like,” Fiona went on at a nervous clip.
Everything around Roger seemed to be slowing, narrowing to a point as his gaze fixed on Claire.
“Anyhow, I had a call this morning from… another member of the group. They said yer car had been found abandoned near the stones. I worried something might have happened to ye, but–”
“Brianna,” Roger managed to murmur.
“Brianna Randall?” Fiona asked.
“Brianna borrowed my car last night,” he explained. “She didna come home.”
I’m in desperate need of some Tagalong escapism. A happy family moment would be just the ticket. 🙏
anonymous asked: Has Tagalong Roger discovered his talent for music and singing yet? Imagine Jamie and Claire et al. realising Roger can sing like a thrush 😄
Tagalong One Shot #3
Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen, Part Seventeen, Part Eighteen, Part Nineteen, Part Twenty, Part Twenty-One, Part Twenty-Two, Part Twenty-Three, Epilogue; One Shot #1; One Shot #2
******************************************
It began as a sort of game between Roger and Fergus when no one was around, a way to deal with Roger’s homesickness, especially in those first months. What things from their lives in the future did they miss the most? Football. Bicycles. Their friends from school. Going to the cinema. Listening to the radio.
Playing in the woods when their chores allowed, Roger would imitate the broadcasters or recall commercial jingles with a clarity that had Fergus doubling over with laughter.
But the underlying sadness was more than Fergus could help his friend with alone. So he volunteered them to help Claire on one of her gathering trips in the woods. When it was just the three of them, Fergus began the game and Claire joined in.
She had spent far more time in the future. Like Roger, she was of the future in a way neither he nor Brianna were (young as she was, she had already lost her memories of where and when she was born).
When the game petered out, they continued their scavenging quietly. At least, until Roger recognized the song Claire was humming and began to sing along.
He was a famous trumpet man from out Chicago way...
Fergus recognized the tune but couldn’t remember the words and certainly wouldn’t have sounded as good as Roger did.
Claire joined Roger, grinning along and dancing a little making both boys laugh.
When they’d finished the song, Claire complimented Roger on his singing and asked if he’d picked up any of the songs Mrs. Crook knew (she always sang quietly as she went about the kitchen, though she wasn’t particularly good).
Roger hadn’t but the seed was planted and Roger had a new hobby.
******************************************
“He has a surprise for us,” Claire informed Jamie as she tidied him up. There were dried leaves in his hair which needed to be trimmed or the dun bonnet would be useless for covering the distinctive hair of Red Jamie.
“And do ye have any idea of what his surprise may be?” Jamie asked. He winced as Willie gnawed on one of his fingers.
“Hold still,” Claire scolded, smiling behind Jamie’s back as their three-month-old son gurgled in his father’s lap. She knew how much it meant to Jamie to have been there for Willie from the beginning (how bittersweet that Brianna couldn’t remember being without him). It was also a minor miracle that Jenny had goaded him into giving up the cave for the priest hole while winter bore down on them.
And it would take another for her to convince Jamie it was safe enough for him to make an appearance at the Hogmanay festivities (having been so recently arrived the previous year, they’d kept the day as a family but learned of the tenants’ disappointment soon after). It would mean a great deal to so many for a glimpse of the true laird with his family reunited as the British army continued to raid and terrorize the countryside even three years after the loss at Culloden.
“As a matter of fact, I do know what it is, but telling you would mean ruining the surprise for both of us,” Claire informed Jamie, “And it means too much to Roger for me to do that so you will attend and you will be surprised. And you will enjoy yourself,” she tacked on as an afterthought.
Jamie rolled his eyes at Willin in the mirror. The babe ceased gnawing on Jamie’s finger in order to giggle.
“Alright. Time for you to have a proper wash so we can get the rest of this rat’s nest under control.” Claire took Willie from Jamie, holding him so he could watch as his father sighed and reluctantly stripped and climbed into the lukewarm tub, the chill in the room having quickly sapped the water of its heat.
******************************************
Despite Claire’s assertion, Jamie remained reluctant to risk being seen too publicly.
“I can stay above stairs wi’ Willie and Brianna,” he told Claire. “Have Roger tell ye when for the surprise and I’ll slip down for that bit.”
“If it makes you more comfortable, I believe you can enjoy his surprise from the banister upstairs,” Claire compromised. “I’ll let him know he’ll be able to spot you there.”
So Jamie made sure he was in place as a handful of tenants arrived for the modest festivities (given the universal hardships, the family had decided to rotate who would be invited year to year).
Willie was teething and fussy in Jamie’s arms as he looked around for Roger in the small crowd below. He spotted Fergus first. The lad was helping guide a few men bearing instruments to one side of the hall, ushering folks to clear the space for imminent dancing. Roger was close behind conversing with a man carrying a fiddle.
There was something in Roger’s arms but none of the others took it from him when the group settled in their places, laughing as young couples eagerly gathered ready to dance. Roger ended up shuffled off to the side but still stood with the players.
The largest and oldest of them looked around at the others, nodding as fiddles and flutes were raised. Then he motioned to Roger who began to beat a steady rhythm on his bodhrán. Soon the others joined in and the couples began to clap along and dance.
Jamie couldn’t follow the music itself very well, but he could pick out Roger and that steady bodhrán beat, keeping time for everyone else. At the end of the first piece, Roger glanced up to where Jamie stood at the railing with Willie. Jamie gave him a proud smile and nod, then lifted Willie’s hand in a wave. Willie fidgeted and bounced enthusiastically. He squealed with delight as they began the next piece.
Jamie stood watching through three more songs before carrying Willie off to put him to bed and check on Brianna. Besides, they’d be sending the firstfoot out soon and they’d want him safely tucked away for that.
Claire ushered Roger and Fergus up to bed a short time later, the festivities downstairs winding down.
“You played beautifully,” Claire told Roger, sitting at the edge of his bed and brushing his dark hair away from his eyes.
“Alec Mackinnon said he’d continue to teach me the songs he kens,” Roger said with a tired but somehow still excited yawn. “No just the bodhrán either. Though, it doesna quite feel like Hogmanay wi’out… you know.” He raised his eyebrows at Claire who smiled in a way Jamie recognized too well. She never wanted the children to think she was laughing at them, no matter how amusing the things they said might be.
“You’ve done very well not to say anything about it,” Claire commended him. “But now it’s just us. It should be safe now and, I agree, it doesn’t feel complete without it,” she said with a conspiratorial glance to Jamie and Fergus who were both baffled.
Roger smiled and sat up in bed. Fergus lounged with his head propped up on his hand. Jamie took a seat next to Brianna’s cot where she and Willie slept. They’d take Willie to his cradle when they returned to their own room for the night.
“Softly now,” Claire reminded Roger before nodding for him to start.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot…
Claire dropped off after the first chorus but Roger remembered and sang the second and third verses as well.
“You sing as beautifully as you play,” Claire assured him. “Like a songbird.”
“A smeóraich,” Jamie agreed. When Claire gave him a confused look, he explained, “A thrush.”
“Time for bed, smor– how do you say it again?”
Jamie repeated it for Claire a few more times, eliciting giggles that turned into yawns. She gave up and tucked Roger back in.
******************************************
“The song you and Roger sang earlier… It’s of the future?” Jamie asked as he held Claire in bed a short time later. He’d be back in the priest hole the next day but refused to spend the first night of the new year anywhere but next to Claire.
“Yes and no,” she said with a sigh. “It will come to be associated with celebrating the new year in the twentieth century, but the words will be penned by a great Scots poet in another decade or so.”
“A great Scots poet,” Jamie mused, grinning in the dark.
“Mmmhmm. And it’s not just in Scotland that he’s celebrated or that song that gets sung. It becomes popular the world over… At least, to my knowledge. There’s even a night celebrating his birth that’s a sort of unofficial holiday.”
Jamie scoffed. “Now ye’re teasin’ me, Sassenach.”
She curled into him and nuzzled against his chest. “Not at all,” she yawned. “I’ve been to my share of Burns Night celebrations over the years.”
“Hmmm… Sounds nice,” Jamie murmured as he drifted off to sleep, the words of the song – which he’d had Claire repeat for him slowly – ran through his dreams.
We’ll tak’ a cup o’ kindness yet, for auld lang syne…
After learning the truth from Claire, a furious Brianna runs to Craig na Dun to prove her mother’s crazy only to fall through the stones herself.
Part One
The High Road and the Low Road - Part Two
“Ye’re called ‘Bree’?” Ian clarified.
“That’s right,” Brianna said, her tone defensive.
Ian chuckled. “Well, from what I can see of ye, ye look Scots but ye dinna sound it and ye’ve clearly got no Gaidhlig.”
“I should think that was obvious,” Brianna quipped. “Now are you going to help me find my car or not?”
“Yer what?” Ian blinked and yawned from his place on the floor.
“My car – actually, I borrowed it, which is why I need to find it and get it back to Inverness before my mom and Roger get too worried.”
Ian looked at her confused.
“Inverness? Even if ‘car’ is the name of yer horse and we found him right now, ye’ll never reach Inverness by morning,” Ian informed her. “It’s a day’s ride at least – nearer two.”
Brianna fought to make sense of what he was saying, the knot in her stomach that had untangled the further she walked from the stones was beginning to reform. “But… it couldn’t have been more than an hour after I left that I reached the stones…” she muttered to herself.
“The stones? Ye mean the fairy hill at Craigh na Dun? There’s tales of what happens there to those who get too close. If yer ‘car’ is all the fairies took from ye, count yerself lucky and dinna go near there again,” Ian advised.
“What am I gonna do?” Brianna asked in a quiet panic, voicing her thoughts aloud. “How am I gonna get back? Can I get back?”
“Calm yerself, lass,” Ian urged, relaxing into his place on the floor and closing his eyes. “Whatever it is ye decide to do, ye’ll no be able to make a start until morning, so, ye dinna need to decide till morning either. Ye can stay here tonight and share the fire so ye’re no alone.”
While Brianna was still inclined to panic, exhaustion was encouraging her to take Ian up on his offer. It was more comfortable in the cabin than outside and Ian was right – she needed the light of day to find her way back to Craigh na Dun… or whatever she decided to do. Her body screamed against going back to that stone circle – she didn’t even know what year it was or if she would land back when she’d originally left. What if she ended up further back in medieval days?
She lowered herself to the floor, eventually lying down parallel to Ian with a gap of about three feet between them and their heads pointed toward the low fire. It would be a rough night on the hard and uneven dirt floor.
She thought Ian had already succumbed to sleep but he turned his face toward her and peeked one eye open.
“Ye never said who yer family are,” he pointed out quietly.
“Yeah well you’re pretty much a stranger,” Brianna reminded him.
He chuckled. “Ye’d no object to sharing that were ye a Scot,” he told her. “And did I ken yer family name, it may be that we’re no strangers after all. Near every man, woman, and child in Scotland can claim common kin some generations back if ye talk it through enough.”
“Well I’m not from around here,” Brianna said defensively. “My mother’s English and my father… he’s dead.”
“But he was a Scot,” Ian guessed.
“That’s what my mother tells me.”
“Ye sound like ye dinna believe her.”
Brianna sighed. What did it matter if she told a stranger the shocking truth? She would be going back through the stones soon anyway (though the thought made her shudder). And she wanted – needed – to talk about it with someone who might understand and feel for what she was going through. She couldn’t explain why, but she felt that this young man would understand her.
“The man who raised me died about two years ago in an accident,” she confided. “I always thought he was my father. But, my mother recently told me that actually, she was already pregnant with me when she… married him. She’s only just told me that she was married to another man before him and that that man was my real father. He died in battle and she… It’s uh… it’s been a bit of a shock.”
“I’m sorry, lass. I didna mean to make light. My uncle fought at Culloden. Lucky to be alive. Was wounded and nearly died of a fever. To hear my mam tell it, he tried a few times and wasna happy wi’ her for stoppin’ him,” Ian shared. “I’m headed to Edinburgh to see him. He’s a printer now. My mam and da need seed and tools from the city so I thought I’d fetch them and check in on my uncle while I’m there.”
“Sounds… nice,” Brianna replied when he paused. “I didn’t grow up with much in the way of family and now it’s just me and my mom.”
“Is that why ye’re travelin’ alone? Ye dinna have kin to travel wi’ ye and protect ye?”
“I can take pretty good care of myself,” Brianna snapped. “You’re traveling alone and you’re younger than me.”
“No by much, I’d wager,” Ian snapped back. “And I’m a man, besides.”
“Do your parents even know you’re here or did you run away or something?”
Ian sputtered and scoffed, struggling to find words with which to deny her accusation.
Brianna laughed. “You ran away.”
“Well, then I suppose ye think ye’re too good for my help. Perhaps ye’d prefer to sleep outside if ye’re so capable of takin’ care of yerself.”
“I don’t care if you’ve run away or not and the first thing to know about taking care of yourself is knowing when to ask for and accept help,” Brianna told him.
“Did yer father teach ye that? Certainly sounds like what my Da would say. My mam would tell me to stop courtin’ trouble in the first place.”
“My mother says it, actually. She’s a doctor – a surgeon. She’s used to helping people and convincing her more stubborn patients to accept help when it’s offered.”
“A surgeon? Really? And yer father didna mind?”
Brianna shifted to find a more comfortable position (there wasn’t one). She was tired and not thinking straight. She’d have to be more careful. She was confident she must be some time after Culloden from what the boy said (but how long after could be anywhere between five and fifty years for all she knew).
“Didn’t say he didn’t mind it. But my mother is an unusual woman.” Brianna felt a stab of longing as she thought of her mother. She missed her desperately. Why had she let her temper get the better of her? She should have stayed and heard her mother out – of course, who could blame her for not believing Claire’s story?
“A rare woman,” Ian murmured. “Tha’s how my da talks of my mam…” He yawned. “Best we rest now. I’ll see if there’s anything I can help ye with in the morning ‘fore I go on my way,” he promised.
“Thanks,” Brianna said with a yawn of her own. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to calm her mind and pretend she was back at the Manse, that this was all a dream and the world would make sense again when she woke.
*************************************
Ian woke before her and was watching her strangely when she started coming around. She turned away to yawn and stretch, then faced him again.
“You know, it’s unsettling, you watching like that,” she said, not really ready to be awake and have to think about her predicament again.
“Sorry,” Ian said, flushing and offering her a bit of bread from the pack he’d brought. “It’s just… I didna get a fair look at ye before. There’s something… Who did ye say yer family are?”
“I didn’t,” Brianna reminded him. “But I guess you didn’t attack me in my sleep.”
“Gave ye food as well,” he pointed out.
“My mother’s name is Claire. And she’s going to murder me for getting lost like this and scaring her,” Brianna told him, hoping to sidestep the subject of her father so she wouldn’t have to think about it more.
“And ye said ye got lost near the fairy hill?”
“You mean Craigh na Dun? Yes. If you point me in the right direction, I should be able to get back on my own.”
Ian dusted away crumbs and began pulling his pack back together, readying to depart.
“I can’t let ye go on yer own – it would be too dangerous. But I also cannae be turnin’ back just now. I’ve no time to lose on my way to Edinburgh.”
“It can’t be that far away,” Brianna objected. “I wandered from there to here in less than a night.”
“And ye’re lucky ye werena set upon as ye did,” Ian warned. “It’s no a safe stretch here – not if ye dinna ken the safe places along the way, like this wee cabin here. It’ll be safer for both of us if we travel together as I do ken the safe stops along the way.”
“You want me to go all the way to Edinburgh with you?” Brianna asked, skeptical. “Even though the place I’m trying to find is the other direction…”
“I promise we’ll no stay in Edinburgh for more than a day or two and my uncle will be more’n happy to let ye stay wi’ him, as he’s used to puttin’ me up. Then, on my way home again, I’ll be able to bring ye all the way to Inverness myself.”
It was a crazy, ridiculous, and stupid idea to follow this boy all the way to Edinburgh. She had no way to get word to her mother – if it was possible for her to get back at all… Maybe her mother was unique in being able to go back and forth. From her mom’s stories, this was where she should have been born. What if the stones decided this was where she belonged and that was it? Could she risk wandering off on her own only to discover she was trapped here alone without even basic supplies? Ian seemed nice enough and was willing to help. If she let him walk away and she was really stuck here, how long would it take her to find another person and what were the chances they would be willing or able to help?
And who was to say that even with a detour, when she reached the stones and went back again, maybe she'd show up the same day she’d left. Her mother didn’t seem to know how they worked so it was anyone’s guess. Besides, having made the journey and gotten through her initial panic, she had to admit she was getting curious. She’d studied this time extensively – read about it in her father’s books countless times. But to have a chance to live it…
She couldn’t believe she was actively talking herself into it and promised it would only be for a few days – she still couldn’t imagine what (or who) could have inspired her mother to stay for almost three years.
“Fine,” Brianna muttered, rolling her eyes at the triumphant grin that broke across Ian’s face. “But if your uncle refuses to let me stay, whatever alternative lodgings are necessary are going to be found and paid for by you. And we can’t stay in Edinburgh for more than a few days.”
“I can assure ye, my uncle willna mind. Now, if ye’re ready, we can make a start and if we’re lucky, we’ll find someone wi’ a cart who’ll let us have a ride part of the way.”
“Hitchhiking,” Brianna remarked with a smile as she squinted into the early morning sun. “That I can do.”
*************************************
“If she didn’t come back through right away, then it must mean something’s happened to her,” Claire explained as she packed supplies – a change of clothes for herself and Brianna, her traveling medical kit, some food.
“Ye cannae know that for sure,” Roger insisted. “We cannae even be certain she went through the stones. We don’t know she can or why it is you can.”
“She went through with me when I was pregnant. That’s reason enough for me to believe. And she wouldn’t wander off on her own and if she found a ride with someone and was safe, she would have phoned. She went through the stones and she’s stuck or injured or scared or all three. I won’t leave her alone there for a moment longer than I have to.”
“Right,” Roger agreed. “Fiona will be here in a few minutes. What can I do?”
“Are you going to try and come with me or are you going to wait on this side for me to bring her back?”
Roger froze. “What makes ye think I could even travel through the stones?”
Claire nodded to the framed family tree on the wall.
“William Buccleigh Mackenzie. He wasn’t the child of those two listed there. Well… he was. But their son by that name died before his first birthday. The one that lived to father children was born to Geillis Duncan and Dougal Mackenzie – and I know for a fact Geillis Duncan traveled through the stones.”
“What? How?” Roger sputtered.
But Fiona had pulled into the yard.
“I’ll tell you in the car,” Claire promised.
Roger hastily grabbed a few things and threw them into a bag before ushering Claire outside and locking the door behind them.
In a later book Jamie & Claire find an orphaned baby, & discuss if Claire wanted/wants another child, whether she's still fertile, & she says she let nature take its course when she returned to Jamie etc. but it didn't happen. What if it had? Claire & Jamie become exhausted older parents - she's well into her 40s in the 18thC @ Frasers Ridge. How do they cope with young babies? What would Bree think as a 20-something arriving to find a baby sibling or two & she's also pregnant?
abreathofsnowandashes said: Hello Lennykins! A bit of a random question but do you think you’ll write anymore of that story you did where Claire and Jamie keep the Beardsley baby? Your initial piece was divine!
svoba asked: I don´t know if there was or is a similar request for it, but … what if Claire and Jamie DECIDED FOR A NEW BABY after they settled in Fraser Ridge (conversation about her sterilization or when Jamie asked her is she wants the baby-girl)? Before/after Bree come through the stones?
Anonymous asked:Imagine Claire having another baby after coming back or explore her raising the orphan she almost kept in the books and the influence of this on Brianna.
There have been quite a few calls over the years to continue my Beardsley Baby fic and now that we’ve at last reached the point of seeing that plotline brought to the screen, I’ve finally written a second chapter (not sure how many more there might be; we’ll see how next week’s episode affects the inspiration).
Roger had clearly told Brianna about why they had been held up in Brownsville, but perhaps it took seeing them with Julia for her to truly believe him.
“And her mother just… left her? In the snow?” Brianna asked, horrified and clutching Jemmy closer to her chest.
For his part, Jemmy was curious about the small, wrapped bundle occupying what he saw as his place in his grandda’s arms. He reached out and managed to get a fistful of the baby’s blankets before Claire successfully extricated his hand and distracted him by kissing it and then pretending to nibble his knuckles. Jemmy’s giggling soon shifted to squealing and Julia’s face contorted into a cry.
“She purposely left her nearby so we would hear her and find her,” Claire told brianna as she kept her attention on Jemmy while Jamie tended to Julia. “But, yes, she just left. I only hope she didn’t suffer any complications later.”
“I’m not entirely sure she wouldn’t deserve it if she did,” Brianna muttered under her breath.
Jamie made a low grunt of agreement as she loosened Julia’s swaddling blankets and brought her to his shoulder. His large hand rubbed small circles into her tiny back. The days in the saddle, held tight to his chest and stomach against the cold had gotten her used to the smell of him, the sound of his heart beating in her ear, the comfort of his warmth. She settled quickly for him and Claire glimpsed the contented smile that flickered across his face. From Brianna’s frown, Claire suspected their daughter had noticed it too.
“So you’re going to take her in,” Brianna remarked. “That’s good of you. At least you’ve room with the two of you for now. By the time she outgrows it and needs a room of her own, maybe you’ll have more of your house to yourselves again. I, for one, can’t wait to have the cabin back for just Roger, Jem, and I.” She looked over to where Mrs. Bug was busy scolding various children and lecturing their mothers about how they ought to be the ones scolding the children in question.
The space did feel that much more crowded after having spent a few weeks camping in the open air (thought the warmth so many bodies generated wasn’t entirely unwelcome at the moment).
“Thank ye, a leannan, for all ye’ve managed while we were away,” Jamie said, using one hand to keep Julia in place and the other to give Brianna’s shoulder and appreciative squeeze. “That there wasna bloodshed is a minor miracle.”
“I’ll tell you about the geese later,” Brianna replied with a sly smile. She became more relaxed as Claire took Jemmy from her arms.
“How is it you seem to have grown so much in less than a month?” Claire addressed him, earning more giggles.
“He’ll be crawling and walking and getting into everything soon,” Brianna said, resigned. “Time to start baby-proofing everything so he doesn’t fall into the hearth when we’re not looking.”
“She’ll be right behind him in the blink of an eye,” Claire said.
“More like siblings than niece and nephew,” Roger remarked, then shook his head. “Uncle and — no, aunt and nephew?”
“That’s it, I guess,” Brianna said with a bit of obvious discomfort at the thought.
“I’ll go put the wee lass down,” Jamie announced. “A basket will do for now but I’ll have a cradle for her in a day or two. D’ye like the sound of that, Julia? A warm place to lay yer head,” he crooned, shuffling off toward their bedroom with Claire and the others watching him go.
“He’s taken to the wean and no mistake,” Roger said quietly.
“Pretty quick, too.” Brianna reached to take Jemmy back from her mother.
“Do I detect a hint of jealousy?” Claire teased. “I seem to recall you requesting a baby sister on several occasions. I believe there was even a letter to Santa about it once.”
Brianna rolled her eyes. “Yeah, when I was five or six. And I’m not jealous. I’m a grown woman and married with a kid of my own.”
The kid in question began squirming and squealing loudly so that Roger took him and began floating him around the room making airplane noises.
“It wouldn’t be unheard of for you to be a little jealous,” Claire told Brianna, keeping her voice low. “Even if you are an adult with a child of your own. Emotions don’t exactly follow logic. In fact, I believe they often fly in the face of logic.”
“It’s… strange, is all. To see you and Da with a baby that isn’t one of the grandkids. To think of you starting over at your age,” Brianna admitted.
“I don’t know that it’s really starting over when you never did it the first time,” Claire said with quiet sadness.
“I mean… you did the baby thing with me,” Brianna pressed, “and Da… He’s been around babies before.”
“Never had the chance to raise a child of his own,” Claire reminded her daughter. “And it isn’t something he and I have done together, much as we once hoped to. I think… maybe that’s why we decided to take her. That and the fact that we wouldn’t trust the Browns as far as we could throw them after the display we witnessed upon our arrival,” she tried to lighten the mood. “All those little things you learn and share when you’re raising a child together… we never had that.”
“Like how the other person sounds when they’re dead tired and just want the baby to go to sleep so they make exhausted funny voices and sing ridiculous made-up songs,” Brianna recalled with a sigh. “Or when you’re about to get up and they gently push you back down to bed and get the baby for you.”
Claire smiled. “Exactly. The way they look at the baby when they don’t know you’re looking. Or the relief you feel when they lay out the punishment you didn’t have the heart to inflict.”
“Of course, there are also all the little infuriating things,” Brianna added. “Like when he says ‘yes’ after you’ve told them ‘no’ a thousand times.”
“Hmmm, Frank used to do that with you a lot,” Claire reminisced. “Drove me mad. It’s how you ended up with a car at sixteen.”
Brianna smiled. “I remember. I knew exactly which one of you to go to whenever I wanted something.”
“Mmmmhmmm, and someday soon, that’ll be Jemmy playing you and Roger off one another. And you won’t have a television you can stop him watching as punishment. Or records to take away, or—”
“I get it, Mama,” Brianna sighed. “And I’m sorry I played you and Daddy off one another… And I’m glad you’ll get to do all that with Da and this new baby.”
“Thank you, darling.” Claire hugged Brianna and cupped the back of her head momentarily. “You know you’ll always be my baby, right?”
