Can you write a fic about Young Ian and Rachel? Aside from J and C they are my favorite couple!
Thank you so much for dropping in! I have a confession, Rachel is one of my least favorite characters….ever. Maybe it’s the way DG writes her, idk. She bothers me to no end. Perhaps it’s her incessant use of the word “friend.” I felt like she was never good enough for Young Ian. In my opinion, she wants to change him too much and I don’t think she understands him, nor do I think she fully respects him, his upbringing or religion(s).
With that being said, I took a step out of my comfort zone to give you this little drabble set in the Mo Chridhe universe. I do hope you enjoy!
“Ian! When did ye get here lad?” Jamie said, pulling his nephew into a hug and thumping him on the back.
“This morning,” he responded, a hand holding the back of his head. “I’m dog tired, Uncle. Do ye have a place I can sneak a quick lie in?”
Jamie looked puzzled but guided Ian back to his office, and pointed to the lumpy, paper-strewn couch. “It’s no much, but it’ll do. Have ye no gone to the house? I ken we’re a noisy lot, but Claire would have kept them quiet long enough for ye to get yer bearings straight.”
Ian laughed and shook his head. “I havena gone over there, no. Mam said to come straight to the paper and find ye, so that’s where I had the cabbie drop me.”
One hand drug down Jamie’s face in exasperation. “Jaysus. O’course yer Mam wouldna give us any warning and have ye come to work immediately.” Bending over, Jamie cleared away a few loose papers at the same time Ian slumped onto the couch, his head resting on a stack of newsprint.
“I’ll be fine, Uncle. Just give me a few minutes to…” Ian’s eyes drooped shut at the same time his words ended.
“Mr. Fraser!” A loud, high-pitched squeal shook Ian from his uneasy slumber.
“Oh!” The girl said a hand clapped over her mouth. “I’m so sorry. I was looking for Mr. Fraser.”
“Uncle Jamie, aye. I heard ye.” They said simultaneously.
“I dinna ken where he is at the moment, but I’m sure ye can find him about.”
“Right. I’m sorry really. I didn’t know anyone else might have been in here, let alone take a nap.”
Ian smiled at her, his bleary eyes starting to focus. The girl that stood before him made his heart skip, and a cold sweat broke out on his palms. He gulped, trying to wet his now dry throat.
“I should…” she pointed to the door.
“Wait!” Ian stumbled off of the couch and caught her wrist. “I didna catch yer name.”
She smiled brightly at him, stuck her hand out and said, “My name is Rachel, Rachel Hunter.”
He grabbed her hand and never wanted to let go. “Nice to meet ye Miss Hunter, my name is Ian Murray.”
