This one-shot fic was written for @thelallybrochlibrary Holiday exchange.
A prompt from @maryooch : "How about Jamie meets Claire while she’s trying to skate (badly) at Rockefeller center during the Christmas season. Both are unattached and in the city for different reasons."
Special thanks to Anne @eclecticstarlightconnoisseur for always getting my messy ideas and improving them. For once again for making sure it's nice and readable for you guys.
Hope you enjoy and feel a wee bit festive! ❄️
AO3
New York, New York Frank Sinatra sang. The Big Apple stretched out all the way to the horizon in a milky white blanket of snow. The skyline pierced with gleaming structures of steel, glass, and concrete.
Claire stared out of the window where snow became even thicker than an hour ago and turned the buildings into giant ice cream cones.
“Honey, are you there?”
“Yes, Mum.” Beauchamp pressed her ear to her iPhone and climbed onto the high hotel bed. “I’m listening.”
“Baby, what did they tell you about the flight? Father has been calling British Airways at least a hundred times today. You know what he’s like.” Julia Beauchamp rattled around in the kitchen cupboards.
Claire dropped her head into the mass of pillows crispy scented of fresh laundry.
Of course, something like this could have happened only to her. After the three-day medical conference in New York, with bags full of gifts, sweets, booze for Dad, and cosmetics for Mum, Claire was ready to go back home for the holidays.
But this year the family tradition wasn’t going to happen because Claire got stuck in this city for God knows how long. The heavy blizzard came upon New York, forcing all the transatlantic flights to be cancelled. Red-faced, hands full of bags, and sweaty in her jumper, the English surgeon hissed “Fucking morons” when she was told she’s not flying today. And most likely not for the next three days. Her cell-phone kindly reminded her today is the 22nd day of December. Only two days left before Christmas. If not for being scared to be without a means of contact, Claire surely would have smashed the device on the white airport tiles.
“They put me into the hotel. It’s all paid.” She glanced at her suitcase, surrounded by shopping bags. “All flights to London cancelled.”
Reaching into one of the bags, Claire grabbed a chocolate bar, not caring about a proper lunch at the moment.
“What about Bristol? Manchester? Anything at all?” Her mother sighed, looking at the shopping list for Christmas dinner. “Dad could pick you up. Lamb just got the car back, all fixed.”
Chewing on the mint chocolate, Claire flicked through the menu on the side table.
“Nothing. I even checked flights to Edinburgh and Dublin. It looks like I’m stuck here.”
There was silence for a while. Claire could hear their dog Pop, an old pug, snoring in the background. All she wants to do is cry. Is it so much to ask? To be home for Christmas time?
“Oh, darling.” Her mother’s voice is soft and reassuring. She knows. “It’ll be fine. I’m certain that you will get home right in time for Christmas.”
After a brief goodbye, Claire checks the flight schedules again. Her frustration mounts and she begins to pace a circular path for at least ten minutes. Her nerves begin to fail her and she decides a cup of chamomile tea would be just the thing.
“Or better yet, a bottle of red," she speaks out loud filling the void for the room. She may as well take advantage of all this suite has to offer.
Her body relaxes into the lavender-scented bath foam, warming her chilly flesh as the fruity Sauvignon Blanc infuses her mouth. Later spurred by the TV forecast (damn the winter) Claire gets into leggings and oversized, knitted horridness of a sweater (decorated with mistletoes and festive ornaments all over it). She shortly video chats with Geillis who is hugely disappointed Claire won’t get to the annual work party at the hospital.
“I do hope ye willna waste yer time in New York, a thasgaidh,*” hummed her ginger colleague. “Go to Time Square, Central Park or… Oh, weeeel, ye can go skating! Mebbe ye’ll find some attractive American who’d lay an eye on ye.” Geillis smirked.
Checking the explosion of hair on her head in the mirror, Claire sighed.
“If that attractive American is a pilot that takes me home, I would not mind, just tell me where to find him.” She tried to secure the naughty curls into something that could resemble a bun but eventually giving up. “I feel like bloody Kevin McCallister,” Claire said as she slid into her boots.
“Weel, just dinna get in trouble with burglars.” Edgars barked a laugh and wished Beauchamp to have fun.
🎄 🎄 🎄
Claire surely could say that Christmas time in New York must be wonderful. Even though her mood sunk to the lowest level, she became determined to raise her spirits. God, all those books about positivity and visualization her Mum reads out loud to her should have a hint of truth to them. Right?
The streets were decked with glimmering lights and dazzling displays. The chill in the air burned her cheeks and Claire was swept up into the herd of people like a fluffy sheep in her soft white woolly coat.
Roads were covered in a sparkling powder that made a nostalgic crunchy sound under feet. People were dressed in layers of scarves, cardigans, and warm winter coats. Some held onto hot beverages to warm their hands as well as their bodies. Some brave tourists were sporting red noses just like the one of Rudolph the reindeer Claire had seen in a Macy’s display. Everything was bright and festive. All the Christmas lights twinkled and the colourful signboards reflected off the snow. Christmassy music played from the shops displaying their wares touting them as the perfect gifts. The sounds of Christmas could be heard coming from phones and the passing cars. It was everywhere. Claire softly hummed a tune as her feet followed the crowd leading her to Rockefeller Center. When Claire lifted her head, her heart grew tender with childhood memories. She stood right in front of the huge Christmas tree, adorned with all its lights, the star on top causing Claire to get teary-eyed. She literally felt like a movie character standing here now. Glancing at rosy-cheeked, laughing people on the ice rink, she joined the queue.
“To hell with it.” She could make her own Christmas memories here, alone in NYC.
Claire had to admit she underestimated herself, thinking that skating is like riding a bike. But, she found that it most assuredly wasn't. She tried to keep her legs as steady as possible, trying to get used to gliding on the ice. Holding onto the rail, she wobbled around before she braced herself to finally go into the middle, and actually skate.
She surely thought that she looked like a penguin trying to find its friends, as she awkwardly moved around in the crowd. Occasionally, she squealed and even closed her eyes when particularly fast skaters passed her by. The moment Beauchamp thought she had got it, she pushed harder and began to glide on her skates. Before she knew it, she crashed into someone else. Clenching her fists and closing her eyes before her body hit the ice.
“Jesus. H. Roosevelt Christ!”
Falling down on her bottom, surgeon hissed at the burning feeling of her palms meeting the ice.
“Here, let me help ye.”
After no needed pause, Claire opened her eyes, glancing at the owner of the soft burr. The stranger whose hand was stretched out to help, smiled, a pair of blue eyes studying her intently.
“Thanks.” Giving a faint nod, Claire accepted the man’s hand. A swift pull and she was back on her feet, trapped between the arms of this bloody good looking man.
He was handsome from the depth of his cobalt blue eyes to the gentle tilt in his voice. A face with striking features Claire was sure she likely won’t forget. The strong jaw with a shadow of stubble and lips that took the soft shape of a smile. A scent of expensive cologne swirled around him. And the hair of the brightest red she’d ever seen.
“Yer didna hurt yerself, lass?” The man steadied her with both of his hands firmly on her waist.
Claire’s cheeks turned into a lovely shade of pink and she could feel the heat of his touch growing on her skin. Beauchamp dropped her gaze down her feet, mumbling.
“I’m fine. Though it takes some time for the pain to settle in and I can only hope I will be able to walk tomorrow.” She waved her hand in no particular direction but rather in frustration.
The stranger smiled as they awkwardly skated to the rail. Claire glanced at him through her lashes smiling back.
“So yer a Sassenach then.”
“Excuse me?” Claire furrowed her eyebrows, unable to stop looking at him. Damn him, he was attractive.
Her saviour let out a soft laugh.
“Yer English, no?” Besides his remark about her Englishness (Claire figured he was a Scot in mere seconds), his tone was kind. “It means an English person or an outlander.”
“How lovely.” Claire snorted examining her palms.
“I didna mean to offend ye.” He leaned to touch her shoulder gently. It took Claire longer then it should to speak up, the words burning against her dry throat.
“You didn’t.” The surgeon gave him a lopsided smile, stretching out her hand. “I’m Claire. Thanks for saving my arse.”
The Scot barked a laugh and took her hand in his. Claire wasn’t sure if she imagined it or not, but the way his skin felt upon hers gave her the rush of goosebumps all over it. Did he feel it too?
“I’m Jamie. And I’m more than glad to save such a lovely arse.”
What an eejit, he thought to himself. Who says that to a lass ten minutes after meeting her?
He already opened his mouth to give her a stream of apologies but she bit her lip and the bell of laughter warmed his heart. A Dhia, she was lovely.
Jamie had noticed her almost immediately when she entered the rink. That mass of curls that made her look like a fairy that stepped out the Scottish legends. He had to smile at the lass when she tried to skate (and very badly to his own good luck). Jamie watched her for a while when he could catch a glimpse of her absolutely horrid Christmas jumper and her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Her arse did not escape his attention either, perfectly round in those leggings.
As they made their way toward the lockers to gather their belongings, he learned she was from London. A surgeon visiting here for a medical conference. And no, she has never been to Edinburgh.
Catching a glimpse of herself in the window, Claire mentally admitted there were times when she had looked better when a man approached her. She could feel Jamie’s eyes on her back as she did her shoelaces, slowly she brought her head up, eyes locking with his.
The blue oceans met the whisky rivers. Claire wanted to say that she should go, it’s getting dark, and this day had got the better out of her. But instead, she took a step as if an invisible magnet was pulling her towards him. There was a silence that drowned them both into the abyss of unknown but much-needed connection.
“Jamie, I -” Her tongue, feeling like sandpaper, moved ever so slowly.
She felt hypnotized, barely registering that she started to walk the opposite way to the exit. But the next second, she found herself staring at their linked hands and his eyes travelling to her face.
“Wait, Claire.” Jamie wet his lips, the corners curl into an almost apologetic-like smile. “I ken it might be daft as we just met, but would ye do me the honor of joining me for dinner?"
She glanced at him, with eyes warm like a fine aged scotch.
“I would not mind a company.”
“I ken a perfect spot.” His hand on the small of her back, leading out of the crowd.
🎄 🎄 🎄
Claire was sure the air crackled with electricity or chemistry (or whatever they call it) as she and Jamie walked through the snowy streets of New York. The roads have been only partially plowed and cleaned. Beauchamp found her legs drowned up to the ankles in the fluffy mass. Jamie carried her over the asphalt where the snow began to turn into mushy puddles from the trampling of an endless stream of pedestrian traffic. Claire giggled as he carried her across each puddle, and felt the tips of her ears turn scarlet red.
The distance between them grew closer and closer until eventually, their shoulders were brushing against each other. She had learned that Jamie was born in the area of Inverness. He had a huge family, a sister and a brother which included many nieces and nephews as well. Claire smiled when she noticed his proud tone when he spoke about his father and the particular tenderness when he mentioned his older sister Jenny. Jamie had worked for the last three years in the US and at 34 years old he was a successful entrepreneur.
Claire mentioned the nomadic lifestyle she lived when she was a child. Her parents worked a lot and she had spent two years travelling with her uncle Lamb. She had a best friend, a Scottish lass named Geillis. Beauchamp liked to read and spend time in the garden with her mum. She sadly recounted that she had made the mistake of getting married only to find herself divorced after four months of the young marriage. Her ex-husband’s name was Frank. The memories made her uncomfortable and she did not want to remember more. Jamie did not ask further, only stating he never married.
“And yer telling me ye have no boyfriend?” Fraser’s hand curled over her delicate shoulder, encouraging Claire (to her own delight) to nestle closer against him. It was such a casual move that she had thought she knew Jamie for ages already. The warmth that was radiating from him rooted deep in her belly and was rising up and up, making her ache at the very core of her being.
“Seeing no one.” Claire shook her head, peeking at him through her lashes. “And how is that my fellow Brit is not with a lassie? ”
Jamie made a sound deep from his chest, something typically Scottish she’d gathered.
“I am with a lassie, and a verra bonnie one, I must say, am I not?” He smirked, though his voice was painted with seriousness.
“Flatterer.” Claire dropped her head, pretending her boots were much more interesting than anything else she’d seen. In truth, it was to hide a smile.
Later their hands merged together, fingers entwining. The strangeness and absolute familiarity of their palms fitting together was something neither of them could explain. Everything seemed to be suspended around them causing the time to become disjointed. Finally, they arrived at their destination.
“Highlands NYC?” Claire read out loud the name of the place Jamie had brought her. “Really? Out of all places in New York, you brought me to Highlander bar?”
The tips of Jamie's ears burned, the red matching his hair. Letting a shaky breath, his lips leaned over to her ear.
“Sassenach, ye should experience Scotland to its fullest.”
That moment Beauchamp went weak in her knees. The raspiness in his voice and… God damn, all of him almost forced her to drag Jamie to the nearest toilet and indeed enjoy one of Scotland's sons to his fullest. She did not.
They sat at the bar since all the tables were booked. The barstools migrated as close as possible for Jamie’s fingers to run freely at the expense on her back, sending goosebumps all over the skin. Her knees accidentally touched his. She laughed, loud and infectious at his stories. Throwing her head all the way back, exposing the pale skin on her neck, placing the blue of her veins in full view. The sight made his cock twitch. She laughed heartily, smacking her palm on his thigh when she found his joke particularly funny. Jamie's breath hitched becoming shallow and broken. She licked her lips. Claire slid her hand over the cold glass containing her cocktail. Her movements were deliberate, slow, down and up over the patterned glass mimicking... What did Geillis say about the unconscious signs?
Fraser shifted in his seat, more than ready to suggest they go somewhere where they find their way to each other. The hot air inside the pub and between them made both ache for each other.
But the food arrived distracting them from their lustful thought. They dined on Haggis dressed in whisky butter, and warm quinoa with crispy spiced chickpeas. They laughed and joked, speaking of this and that learning about each other. As the evening wore on, Claire found her heart beating its way out of her ribcage. She leaned in planting a soft kiss on Jamie's cheek fearful of having to whisper words of parting lying on the tip of her tongue. But she found she was not yet ready to say goodbye yet.
“Would ye like me to walk ye to yer hotel?” His voice was hoarse, scented with the whisky he had drunk. Claire leaned into him whispering:
“Yes.”
They hadn’t said goodbye in front of the hotel. Not in the foyer, either. Certainly not in the lift. As they stood in front of each other surrounded by glass cubicle she moved first.
Before he knew it Jamie’s mouth was claimed by hers. Chest heaving and gasping for air, both parted and stared at each other until the lift announced their destination with a soft Ding.
Claire’s hands shook, the room card almost slipping out of her sweaty palms. The second her feet entered the room, Jamie had pulled her closer by the waist. The lengths of the bodies pressing, Claire’s cheeks flaming hot. He breathed heavily as he left a trail of burning kisses down the column of her neck.
“Christ, I want ye.”
Cupping her arse Jamie’s lips traveled up, taking her bottom lip between his. She smiled against his mouth, hands pulling at his nape, closer and closer, until the kiss could actually hurt. She could feel the length of him, hard and ready through his jeans and it made her almost blind with animal-like want.
“Take this off,” Claire whispered pulling at the hem of his shirt. Aching for him became powerful to the point where she could not bother unbuttoning his shirt, Claire just yanked the soft material over his head.
She could swear she heard him growl when her sweater followed the same destination as Jamie’s shirt and landed into the fabric puddle on the floor. No bra in the way, Jamie did not hesitate to kiss his way down Claire’s cleavage, stopping for the thorough exploration of each breast. Her mouth dropped open in a silent plea when his lips captured the nipple. Almost burning with the heat that grew between her thighs and made her belly ache, Claire reached down, to unbuckle his jeans. Tongues danced, lips bitten surely to swell come the morning, teeth raking over the soft skin of the neck. Pulling the leggings with underwear to her ankles Jamie definitely left blueish trails where his fingers pressed. But it was a delicious feeling that bordered with painful pleasure. They stumbled upon the bed, falling into it, a suppressed laugh emerging between their mouths. Gently but firmly Jamie had pushed Claire flat on her back, letting his hand trace the invisible paths all the way from the high hills of her neck, down to the valley between her breasts, the plain expanses of her belly, all the way down to the hidden secrets between her thighs.
She moaned into his lips when his fingers had found her apex between her thighs. His bold caresses drew sighs, moans, and keening that he longed to hear. With the right pace and rhythm he drew those sounds out of her. Claire’s curls flew all over the white pillow. Air! She needed air and began to take deep lungfuls. Writhing as the sweet torture continued, Claire took large fistfuls of linens as an anchor. Arching into his hand, she had lost all the train of coherent thoughts.
“Jamie…” Gasping for air burning hot in her throat, she finally broke into the million atoms finding herself thousands of light-years later, breathing heavily, the sweat trickling down her nape.
“Ye’re so beautiful when ye become undone.” Jamie murmured, lips pressing a soft kiss at her brow.
Still shaking Claire reached between them finding a condom and gladly placed it on him. She’d found herself again in Jamie’s embrace. Still, she kissed him hungrily with the remnants of her own satisfaction yet to fade, asking for more. Jamie did not need much encouragement and with the slightest nod of her head, guided himself into her. The sudden, hot sensation of him made Claire throw her head back. Seized lungs could not produce any coherent sound. As Jamie’s hips moved fast into her, reaching that right spot, again and again, she could only cling to him for dear life. When Jamie’s own breathing became slow and shuddering, it wasn't clear where he began and she ended. The world expanded beyond itself. It grew into a million colourful stars shining brightly around them.
Well into the night, as Claire slept, he drew tender paths with his fingers mapping the lines and valleys of her body.
Later she awoke from her sweet slumber by the quiet rustle next to her. Jamie sat upright, hands roaming on the floor in the search of his underwear and jeans. For some reason, it bitterly stung. Claire slowly brought her hand up, gently touching his back.
“Please stay.”
🎄 🎄 🎄
Claire was sure it’s all had been a dream. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve and in ten minutes her mother will call her downstairs to help start making dinner preparations. The brussels sprouts and mashed potatoes are not going to cook themselves. Her still sleepy mind started registering unusual noisy traffic outside, quite the opposite of the calm London neighbourhood where her parents lived. She turned to her side, eyes still tightly shut. Claire wasn’t sure now if she wanted to open her eyes and find herself home (where she so desperately wanted to be just twenty-four hours ago) or to wake up to the reality of finding one particular Scot next to her?
The mattress felt unfamiliar and too comfy. Her old bed in Beauchamps house surely did not feel that way. Moreover, the heat radiating from her left side was more likely from a person than the furnace. Claire’s eyes snapped open and she had to blink several times to get used to the bright sun, bouncing off the snowy scenery outside.
“Weel, hello to ye, sleeping beauty. I was afraid ye’d been cursed and would never wake.” Jamie rolled onto his belly, propping himself on the elbow. “Though it’s rather a nice sight to observe”
He ran his fingers down the line of Claire’s jaw before leaning in to kiss her.
“So you’re not a dream.” She smiled and pulled the blanket up higher than her waist, suddenly feeling shy. “What’s this?”
Her brows furrowed in confusion as Jamie fished his phone out, nodding to the screen.
“I don’t understand.”
“Ye’re going home, Sassenach.” He chuckled, feeling quite proud that he’d managed to find them both tickets to Edinburgh this evening. Jamie rather never did say out loud the price he paid but the look on Claire’s face was worth much more than that.
“Bloody hell!” She squealed, not believing her eyes. “How can I ever repay you?”
Jamie smiled when her hands wrapped around his neck.
A huge thank you to @holdhertightandsayhername who submitted this prompt to @thelallybrochlibrary’s Holiday Prompt Exchange:
‘Reader prompt: write a short article about a great fic UNDER 100 kudos!’
In the spirit of 12 Days of Outlander, here are not one but eleven fics under 100 kudos that, we think, are totally worth reading these holidays. Enjoy!
Wee Shadow. by @redstarfiction
A wee one shot of Jamie and Claire fluff with Jem and Mandy set around ‘Tell The Bees'
Note: A short but lovely in-canon moment between Outlander’s leading couple. If you have only a moment these holidays to read something ‘new’ - click on the link above. You won’t regret it.
Before Light by @westerhos
Murtagh comforts Jamie after Faith’s death.
Note: This one-shot is a perfect accompaniment to Season 2 in helping fill the lengthy gap between the end of ‘Faith’ and the beginning of ‘The Fox’s Lair’. It simultaneously pulls at heartstrings while helping both Jamie and readers find a little [much needed] closure. Highly recommended to anyone in the mood for some short-lived emotional turmoil.
Of Kith and Kin by @ianmuyrray for @otheroutlandertales
Jenny returns to Lallybroch from delivering a grandchild and Ian tells her about Brianna. A missing moment from 4x07.
Note: A short one-shot that - not only those who love Jenny and Ian, but - all fans of Outlander will enjoy. This conversation between husband and wife is likely to bring a smile to your face and perhaps even prompt a happy tear or two. If, after reading this, you find yourself in need of even more Jenny/Ian, we recommend checking out Muy’s A Deal for some fake/pretend relationship goodness.
The Midnight Kitchen by @thescarlettpeacock
A short fic featuring Fergus, Claire and the midnight munchies…
Note: A very sweet moment between mother and son in a modern-day alternate universe that is bound to leave you wondering ‘what if’ in the best way possible. Warning: late-night reading may induce cravings for jam sandwiches.
The Knife by @whiskynottea for @otheroutlandertales
Murtagh Fitzgibbons Fraser is asked to craft a knife and finds love in the new world.
Note: Life for Murtagh post-Culloden is a storyline not often explored and this tv!canon divergent one-shot can only be described as a blessing - for both Murtagh and all his fans. Nothing more needs to be said - just go ahead and click on that link above!
Without Us by @bonnie-wee-swordsman
A follow up to Season 2 Episode 13 (Dragonfly in Amber), showing Fergus’ journey back to Lallybroch
Note: As the comments will attest, this story is as likely to provoke a display of emotion as watching the episode itself. Please make sure to browse the tags before reading as there are vague references to events in Season 2 Episode 7 (Faith) that some may wish to avoid. Those willing to proceed, however, will not be disappointed.
Which Door? by thatsoccercoach
Claire intends to go to Frank’s Super Bowl party.
Note: Don’t be fooled by first impressions. These initial 256 words lead to an astounding 78 one-shots (totalling 80,829 words!) that all fit within the parameters of this post including Powerful | Wonderful | Ridiculous and The Anniversary Present. Perfect for those who, after a hearty meal, find themselves surrounded by napping family members and are in need of something both fluffy and lengthy to keep them company.
Lucky Lad by @abbydebeaupreposts
From a Tumblr prompt: Can we get a story about Jamie and Roger and Jemmy bonding?
Note: A perfect example of how even the vaguest prompt can result in the most glorious of fics. Best of all, you don’t need to be a fan of Roger in order to enjoy this domestic moment on Fraser’s Ridge from Brianna’s point of view.
The Fire in my Soul by @queen-in-the-northx
Set sometimes after the end of MOBY, Claire reflects on falling in love with Jamie.
Note: Anyone who is in love with Jamie and Claire’s love story will fall in love with this fic, too. For that extra touch, imagine Claire reading it aloud in a voiceover similar to those we have been blessed with on occasion throughtout the television series.
Cross That Line by MooseDeEvita
While traveling from town to town to lure Jamie back to them, Murtagh and Claire turn to each other for physical comfort. After all, confessions of lost love go so well with an ocean view and a sky full of stars. A bit of a deleted scene in episode 14 “The Search” after they hug in the cave by the sea.
Note: Murtagh x Claire: it’s the rarepair you never knew you needed. And trust us, you do. Recommended to absolutely everyone who is, like Murtagh and Claire, open to new [and undeniably erotic] experiences.
Clair(e)voyance 1.0 by @notevenjokingfic
Detective Sergeant James Fraser and Chief Medical Examiner Claire Randall. Both are perhaps a little jaded, and shut off from the world, until the other steps into theirs. It’s supernatural. Intrigue. Romance. Murders. Mystery. All of that and so, so much heart. It’s the telling of several different cases that span over their partnership – which is a word that comes to take on several different meanings as the story goes on. And each case is more interesting than the next.
Note: If you have ever needed an excuse to reread this well-known fan favorite, this is it! Almost every single instalment in this popular series has less than 100 kudos, so, after you have browsed the list above, head on over to AO3 to start at very the beginning - and make sure to leave kudos each step of the way!
Bonus Challenge!
There are hundreds of wonderful, amazing, incredible fics under 100 kudos on AO3. As such, we challenge you to add to this very short list by sharing one of your own favorite fics under 100 kudos, leaving a more personal message in the author’s ask box, or perhaps finding that unfinished multi-chapter fic under 100 kudos and leaving a comment to tell the author how much you would love an update one day in the near future. Whatever you choose, we are sure all authors will appreciate your love and support this holiday season!
Jamie has spent almost every night of his deployment yearning to be with his wife and newborn child. When he is given the opportunity to be home for Brianna's first Christmas, however, he unexpectedly finds himself torn between the past, present and future.
A modern day short story inspired by @thelallybrochlibrary Holiday Prompt: "Soldier Jamie returns from his deployment in time for Brianna’s first Christmas” submitted by @becc127.
Part I: Home For Christmas
Jamie looked down at the photograph resting in the palm of his hand.
There sat his beautiful wife, their brand new wean resting in her arms. The stark contrast between Claire’s dark and unruly curls lightly brushing their daughter’s red tuft was only highlighted by Claire’s dark blouse and the cream coloured crochet blanket she had wrapped Brianna in.
He chuckled to himself and raised his eyes as if to follow the sound carrying away with the wind into the mountains lit only by moonlight shining through sparse clouds.
He could still remember the moment Claire had announced her name over the phone.
“Brianna,” the mouthed to himself and smiled again. He had made a fuss at the time but it had been token, half-hearted at most, as he hadn't truly minded. How could he? After what had happened with Faith -
He shook his head quickly in an attempt to dispel the thought.
He loved Faith. A Dhia, he loved her. So much so that it hurt to think of her - their first, a daughter born too early, too silent and too still - let alone speak of her out loud and, truthfully, he could only deal with so much heartache on a dark night like this, where stars were dulled by lingering clouds and death curled around them like unwelcome hot breath.
His hold on the photograph tightened as his throat constricted and heart thumped in his chest.
It had been a standard patrol. Standard. There was a scoff bubbling up from within but he hadn’t enough energy to dispel it, instead opting to let it simmer in the barely controlled but well-concealed anger that had been plaguing him for hours. It was supposed to be standard, damn it! Instead, they had stumbled across an IED.
Unmarked. Unexpected. Deadly.
Now, instead of continuing their assignment as planned, they would be departing at first light to escort Angus' body home.
Christ, how he wished he could speak to Claire. Touch her. Feel her. Wrap his arms around and just hold her.
During her time as a Combat Medical Technician, she had been on two tours of her own and had seen such violent harm up close and intimately more times than he would wish upon any soul. Unlike any other Tech here in this God-forsaken desert, however, she had the ability to heal a lot more than just physical wounds. She had hands that wove stories across the skin, lips that formed words to heal the soul, and a heart more loving than anyone - including he - could ever deserve.
From the very first, when she had come and laid a hand on him to reset a dislocated shoulder, he had known - she was everything.
Everything he knew he wanted.
Everything he hadn’t known he needed.
Leaving her, just weeks pregnant with their second bairn, to go on this tour had been one of the hardest things he had ever done and news of a happy and healthy daughter had provided incredible relief. For a moment in time, he was devoid of the burden that had been tying him down ever since he had step foot on the aircraft and the weightlessness had left him giddy with the feeling he could do anything - achieve anything.
But all too soon that feeling had been replaced with something new. A yearning, almost.
A calling.
On nights he managed more than an hour or two of solid sleep, he would dream of Brianna. Shifting within her swaddle, asleep in her crib. Small fingers wrapped tight around one of Claire's. Crying out blindly in hunger only to be soothed by her mother’s scent shifting closer.
The following day the images would linger, there in the background of his mind, as they cleaned their rifles and organised equipment, long after shifts changed and there were no words to fill the silence that fell down upon them, and every time they paused to take refuge from the hot sun beating down upon them.
Despite their continued occurrence, he resisted speaking of them out loud, too afraid that the sound might interrupt the ethereal connection that existed between the two of them. That he might be left even more alone than he already was.
The mere thought made him grit his teeth.
In his youth loneliness hadn’t bothered him - if anything he had welcomed it. First, it was the solitude that came with working in the Highland fields as a teenager and, then, the freedom that came with being an entry-level soldier travelling between various stations and training grounds, never staying anywhere long enough to put down roots or form any serious relationships outside of work.
Then he had met Claire.
While, from that point onward, he had spent his days afield eagerly awaiting their next reunion, their intimate relationship had had very little impact on life in the Armed Forces. It was one that the two of them were used to and one that continued on even after they had wed. When Claire, pregnant and suffering from terrible morning sickness, was released from active duty, however, things changed. It was then he had come to truly understand what it meant to be ‘away’. Away from his wife. His family. His home. And now, another daughter.
One that would be there when he returned.
The thought gave him hope - a small flicker somewhere deep down beneath the bone-weary exhaustion and budding sense of desperation.
The sound of worn boots upon dusty gravel grew nearer and he turned slightly, more so due to a long instilled need to keep anything and everything within his line of vision than simple curiosity.
He shifted again as Murtagh sat down next to him and waited.
It wasn’t uncommon for the two to sit side by side in comfortable silence from time to time but he knew the man, both godfather and superior, had sought him out with purpose.
"Received confirmation from Stuart - schedule remains unchanged,” Murtagh stated casually. “Dougal's putting together the last of the equipment. Thought it would be best to leave Rupert be fer now."
Jamie nodded his approval. While Rupert had not been severely injured by the blast, he remained in the medic station for a long while before making his way to Angus' cot to start packing his best friend's belongings and it had been second nature for the team to unofficially take the man off rotation, wordlessly absorbing any and all remaining jobs between them.
"I should double-check the paperwork's been lodged," Jamie replied though he made no move to stand and Murtagh did the same, having obviously decided it was his own turn to wait. Minutes went by unchecked until he finally said aloud, “I always thought this job couldnae get any harder,” the words spontaneous and providing little to no detail for their use.
Still, his Godfather understood.
“Tomorrow may be harder than most, aye," Murtagh brushed a hand over his bearded chin and then waved it towards Jamie’s own, "but at the end of it, you’ll be home. In time fer the bairn’s first Christmas, no less.”
"Christmas," Jamie echoed, mostly to himself, nodding his head slowly before looking back down at the photograph. “I'll be home for Christmas.”
When Murtagh put a hand on his shoulder and stood, he dipped his head in acknowledgement but continued looking a moment longer, before tucking it back into his chest pocket and rising himself. He rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck - a long practised method used to replace the battered armour he had worn for far, far too long but destined to wear a little while longer yet.
He would be home for Christmas but until that day came, he reminded himself, he had a job to do. And a promise to keep.
A/N: For a lot of people, Christmas is not a time of joy but of sadness, anxiety and distress. There can be an overwhelming sense of pressure to be happy and this underlying notion that expressing anything different is not only inappropriate but harmful to those around us. It leaves many - like Jamie in this AU and myself in real life - conflicted, confused and, at times, hopeless and lost. This story is dedicated not only to all service-men, -women and their families but to all of those who struggle during the holiday season. Please know that I am thinking of you and hope that you, like Jamie towards the end of this story, are blessed with a sense of inner peace and many restful nights. A x
So, this is my first time writing any type of fan fiction. I am equally terrified and excited to put it out into the world. Thanks go to @thelallybrochlibrary for hosting this fun Holiday Prompt Exchange, @fickeepingtheshipafloat for the adorable prompt, @walkinginland for her help posting this and @desperationandgin for the advice! Hope everyone enjoys reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!!
Inverness, Scotland
CLAIRE
“Oh darling, I’m so glad I caught you.”
“Me too. It’s so good to hear your voice again.” Claire Beachamp said to her uncle Lambert over the phone. “What time is it there in Tikal?”
“Oh, it’s late here, but I was hoping to get you before you went into work.”
Claire glanced at the clock that read 5:38am. She had just gotten out of bed a few minutes earlier, stretched, and was preparing for her shift as a nurse at Raigmore Hospital when she received the call.
“You did. I don’t go in until seven this morning.”
While Claire made coffee and toast for herself, she chatted with her uncle about what was going on in her life. Admittedly, outside of her job, nothing new was happening with her so that was a very short conversation.
“Enough about me, do tell about your latest adventure.”
“Guatemala is amazing, Claire. I think you’d love it here.” Lamb said. He went on for a bit, describing some of the things he’d seen in the lush rainforest that surrounded the ancient Mayan ruin he was exploring.
“I don’t want to keep you too long. I know you’ve got important work to get on with.” Lamb said sincerely. “Also, I have a package I’m sending your way shortly.”
“Oh, lovely. Thanks, Lamb. I miss you.”
“And I miss you as well, my darling. I plan to come back home and visit soon.”
They finished their conversation, and Claire washed her face and threw on some of her favorite scrubs. She pondered if she should get a tree for her place, since Christmas was coming up quickly, but wasn’t sure if it was worth the effort since she was the only one who would see it and she was rarely home anyways. Her work kept her busy and she loved it, but every now and then she wished she could come home to more than an empty flat.
This is the beginning of a two chapter tale for the Lallybroch Library Holiday Exchange.
The prompt is from @akb723 - Love, Christmas, and a bit of drama ensues when Ian has been in the VA hospital after having lost his leg. While there, he meets nurse Major Claire Beauchamp. They become friends swapping familial information, stories, etc. Ian tells how much he missed/misses being home for Christmas. Wanting to surprise her friend, Claire attempts to reach out to his listed family, James, to see if there would be any way to get Ian home for Christmas, or at the very least, bring Christmas to Ian.
@thelallybrochlibrary holiday exchange
Chapter 1 - Operation Telic
Also available on AO3
Major Claire Beauchamp was reading a report that had landed on her desk earlier that day. It began: The UK lost 179 servicemen and women during Operation Telic that followed the invasion of Iraq on 20 March 2003. Many of those who died were killed by roadside bombs or in clashes with insurgents while on patrol. Others died as a result of accidents, so-called "friendly fire" strikes, suicide or natural causes. The six-year British military mission came to an end in April 2009.
She picked up a book sitting on her desk and threw it at the wall, letting out a squeal: “And what about the poor bastards left permanently maimed by this fucking war that should never have happened!” she cried. Lying in the hospital under her command were three wards of the permanently maimed from the operation in Iraq. It was December 2009 and although the military mission technically ended in April 2009, there were service personnel who had been so badly damaged, physically and psychologically, that moving them back to their homes hadn’t been possible.
She returned to the report: 3,598 British personnel were wounded, injured or fell ill (315 wounded in action); 1,971 of whom required aeromedical evacuation.
All the service personnel in her three wards had been aeromedical evacuations. Some had lost legs, some arms, some their sight. Some had received wounds which left them in need of skin grafts and reconstructive surgery. A small group had been prisoners of war. A majority were suffering psychological damage. Those left in the wards had needed considerable medical care before they could even be evacuated. Life as they’d known it was over and they needed a team of professionals to prepare them for life after military service.
Claire and some of the other nursing staff had served in Combat Support Hospitals and Field Hospitals in Iraq. Many of their patients had suffered from gastroenteritis, skin conditions, upper respiratory tract infections and other less serious conditions. They had been treated and returned to the field when ready. The more serious injuries were people whose names were permanently etched in her memory. And the nurses they’d lost were personal and professional friends.
Back in the UK, the Op Telic veterans were housed at a Ministry of Defence Hospital Unit in Portsmouth, on the south coast of England. The unit was part of the Queen Alexandra Hospital, with specialist surgeons experienced in war injuries. It had been decided to keep the Telic veterans together in one facility for medical and social reasons. Many had served together and were known personally to the medical staff.
Almost all the service personnel had family or friends who could visit. The train trip from London took less than two hours. Claire had spoken to these visitors and arranged with many to come to the hospital for Christmas Day. She had bailed up the Minister for Defence on his last visit and secured funding for a fully catered Christmas lunch for the patients and their families. Claire was known for not taking ‘no’ for an answer. Her colleagues loved her tenacity and determination, and the patients knew that they had an advocate. The MoD knew she got results and could use her success rates for PR – provided they listened to her when she demanded support.
She had one patient who had received no visitors: Ian Murray.
On weekends, when other patients had visitors who were laughing, plying them with chocolate and showing photos, Claire would wander in to the ward to find Ian in bed with his head in a newspaper held high so he couldn’t see them and they couldn’t see him. He would receive regular letters with photos – his wife, his children, his home. It wasn’t hard to see why his wife didn’t visit – four children aged between 18 months and five years and elderly parents and a farm to care for.
“What are their names?”, Claire asked as she looked at the latest photograph.
“That’s my eldest, wee Jamie, and he’s 5. Next to him is Maggie, who’s 4 and holding her hand is Kitty, who’s 3. The baby is young Ian, who’s 18 months. The elderly couple behind them are Brian and Ellen, my in-laws. Jenny’s got her hands full caring for all of them while Jamie works the farm”, Ian explained.
“Two Jamies? Just to make life even more complicated?” Claire smiled.
“Aye, Jenny’s brother. He’s great with the bairns”, Ian smiled. “And a great friend as well as my brother-in-law. He must have taken the photo”.
“So, Jamie Fraser Senior is the person listed as your family?” Claire asked.
“Aye, if anything went awry, I’d prefer Jamie be contacted. It’s been hard on Jenny. I havena seen her for over two years, and when I last saw her, we made wee Ian. I was on leave and I hit the landmine within days of returning to duty.” He rolled his eyes: “Jenny only has to look at it and she’s pregnant.”
“And you only have to look at her?” Claire laughed.
“Fair point. She’s a bonny woman and my childhood sweetheart”, Ian said. Claire noticed his eyes glistening with tears and offered him the tissue box.
“I think you need to blow your nose”, she suggested.
Visiting Ian became a habit for Claire. She knew that medical care was only part of the rehabilitation process. She came to know Ian’s coffee order (strong black with two sugars). She also knew that if there was shortbread available, he preferred to have that with white tea and one sugar. She’d even adopted some of his strange Scots vocabulary: “You’re a wee scunner!” for the whiners in their midst, “she’s up to high doh” for the nurses who got riled up and “awa’ an bile yer heid” when he wanted someone to rack off.
Claire watched Ian as the ward’s Christmas tree was erected. He became uncharacteristically withdrawn and “awa’ an bile ye rheid” became an even more common phrase used for all and sundry. She had already been writing to the family to keep them informed of Ian’s progress, but now she decided to phone.
Getting hold of Jamie Fraser was easier said than done. She tried his mobile several times, not wanting to ring the family home for fear of alarming Jenny. When he finally returned her call, she had to listen carefully to understand his strong brogue:
“I couldna ring afore. I’m out on the farm most o’ the day. Is Ian peely wally?” he asked.
“Well, I’m not sure. What does peely wally actually mean?” Claire asked with a smile.
“Sorry, I mean is he sickly?” Jamie explained.
“Well, having the lower part of your leg blown off by a land mine does tend to make one a bit peely wally, but that’s not why I’m calling”, Claire replied. “I’m just wondering if we can arrange to have Ian contacted by the family on Christmas Day. I know it’s difficult to visit, but I wondered if I could set up a FaceTime call so he can see the children and Jenny, or maybe just a phone call so he can hear them. So many other families will have visitors – it’s a difficult time for him”, Claire told him.
“Aye. I wish we could be there but Ma and Da are both in need of care and the bairns seem to be on a cycle of illness. As soon as one gets well, another goes down wi’ something”, Jamie said sounding exhausted. “The internet drops out here all the time, but a phone call would be a grand idea. If ye let me know what time suits ye, I’ll be sure to have everyone ready. Did ye want it to be a surprise?” he asked.
“A surprise would be brilliant, but I think he needs to know that we’re organising something to keep his spirits up. I’ll let him know he’ll be hearing from you – and thank you for all you do. Ian speaks very highly of you”, she said.
“Tell him his present’ll be in the post as soon as I can get to Broch Mordha. And thank ye for thinking of this. We all appreciate everything ye do”, Jamie told her.
Claire wrote the time in her diary. She wanted to be sure she was in situ at the moment they’d agreed on. She headed down to the ward and told Ian: “I appreciate that Claire. It’ll be good to chat with them. I miss them all sae much.”
Claire and the rest of the staff were flat out preparing for Christmas. She and others without families had volunteered to work over the Christmas holiday. They ensured every patient had at least one gift and that tables were set for those who could sit up and bed serving trays who had to remain in bed. The wards were beautifully decorated in an effort to provide as much festive cheer as possible.
Claire waited by Ian’s bed with the phone waiting for the call from Ian’s family.
I started out answering this prompt with a drawing. I may still finish the drawing; but, I was on a bit of a roll with my felt ornaments. That being said, here is my contribution to the @thelallybrochlibrary prompt:
Outlander meets Pride and Prejudice. When J takes C to the stones the first time they both fall through to 1812, just after Elizabeth and Darcy marry. Whether they go to Pemberley or the Darcy's are on a wedding tour when they meet is up to you.
For @thelallybrochlibrary‘s Holiday Exchange and prompted by @holdhertightandsayhername:
Prompt 23: A “Hogmanay on the Ridge” mood board.
Jen, my apologies that I’m posting this after the deadline, but I hope I did your prompt some justice! May the Frasers celebrate many more Hogmanays together on the Ridge. AS THEY DESERVE.
Thank you to the Librarians for hosting this exchange, for all of the writers and creators who gave us so much beautiful Outlander content this holiday season, and to Jen for the wonderful prompt (and for all of the diverse prompts that she submitted!).
