Feb 25, 2020
“I’ll always be with you...always.”
“...go. Please. Be hard to find.”
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“I’ll always be with you...always.”
“...go. Please. Be hard to find.”
Jamie x Claire
1x3 “The Way Out” Aesthetic
//1
25 Days of JAMMF, Day 14: Favorite Friendship
Murtagh Fitzgibbons Fraser`
Oh my sweet goodness. How does one even describe this precious lan?
He is the EPITOME of a loyal, faithful, and steadfast friend. He will defend Jamie, stand by Jamie, serve Jamie, uplift Jamie, correct Jamie, and fight for Jamie: no matter what, no matter the cost.
Likewise, he loves and stands by who Jamie loves.
He has remained steadfast to Jamie at all times as the ferocious guardian and friend that he is.
He has stood by his godson even unto death.
(AND I LOVE HIM FOR IT. AND I MISS HIM SO BAD.)
1x3 “The Way Out” Aesthetic
//2
arm in arm with his favorite people in the entire world.
the frasers slaying at social gatherings since 1743
s1/s2/s3/s4
Outlander Moments of Impact: Goodnight Mistress Beauchamp
There is something to be said for delayed gratification. The ability to wait—to truly endure—is severely under appreciated.
It is the revelation that as real as our desires may be, the object of our longing is worth whatever road we may have to travel to win it—to keep it.
For then, when we finally do grasp what we reached for, it makes any pain, any suffering, and any delay seem as but a mere blink of an eye. All agony eclipsed by the awe of obtainment.
Jamie Fraser is a man who understands the ability to wait: the capacity to bear much.
From the moment he encountered the mysterious Claire Beauchamp he desires her, yet when a situation presents itself to act upon it, he declines the opportunity.
Such interaction is when Claire checks Jamie’s wounds in 1x3 “The Way Out”—behaving as a man of respect, and steadfast in honor, Jamie loves her enough to put his own desires aside and prefer someone above himself.
Let’s break down this scene for context, shall we?
It is evening and the hall is alive with activity, bustling with people. Claire walks in alone and takes a seat next to Laoghaire Mackenzie. Attempting to make small talk, shortly after arriving Claire becomes distracted and glances over to the entrance. She spots Jamie. As if his radar clicked on just by sensing her eyes on him, the young Jamie returns her gaze.
He then swiftly makes his way over to Claire…and Laoghaire. The three of them clumsily dance around a conversation when it becomes all too clear that Jamie has ears for one woman and one woman only: Claire.
And Mistress Beauchamp, relaxed and at ease with drink, has eyes for only one, one man in the room: Mr. MacTavish.
Laoghaire may as well join the stone columns of the hall for all the interest she stirs in him. Suddenly, Jamie grows aware of Claire’s current state: she is quite intoxicated after Colum’s rhenish. Although she is holding herself together quite well, it is obvious to him that he should see her safe.
Seeking an appropriate and discretionary excuse to walk her back to the surgery, Jamie quietly mentions his bandages are bothering him: “This dressing has been chaffing me for days. Do ye mind helping me with it?”
Naturally concerned for his well being, Claire swiftly offers her aid, “Yes of course.” And the two of them escape down below leaving everyone behind them. Once they reach the solitude of the room, Claire states, “Alright, let’s have a look at that shoulder.”
Jamie slyly admits that it was not in actuality any relief of infliction that he asked for her help, but rather a ruse to make certain that she made it securely back: “Och, I dinna need yer help. I just thought I should see ye back to the surgery—while ye could still walk upright.”
Chuckling, Claire confesses, “Oh, thank you. I supposed I did overindulge slightly.”
Brushing the gesture aside, Claire brings the conversation back to Jamie: “I should’ve known though. If it was really making you uncomfortable, I imagine you’d have ripped off the bandages yourself.”
Flirting with her: “Oh, I was afraid to. I thought I’d get my arse scalped if I touched it.” What’s so charming about this is that he isn’t intimadated at all by her power, her presence as a woman and a healer. In fact, he lives for it.
And Claire plays right along with him: “Too right. I am the healer after all; I’m in charge.” Delivering the final nail in the coffin of the adorable banter mixed with sexual tension, Jamie affirms, “Never doubted it.”
His endearing praise of her reduces Claire to giggles and a grin that could slay a man dead on the spot.
Still worried for him, “Really though, if it was bothering you, you should’ve told me. I would’ve taken it off for you the other day at the stables.” Candidly in response, “Mmm, No. I couldna do that before Alec.”
“The scars. You don’t want Alec to know you’ve been flogged.” Jamie continues, choosing not only to be honest, but to be vulnerable: “Alec knows I’ve been flogged, but he’s not seen it. To know something like that is—weel, it’s not the same as seeing it with your own eyes.”
All the while Jamie is sharing, Claire watches him intently, sensitive to every word he speaks. Jamie delves further: “It’s a bit personal, maybe, is what I mean.” Claire smiles and continues to listen in silence.
“I think if Alec were to see the scars, well he couldna see me anymore without thinking of my back.” For someone to behold his trauma, what Jamie has been through, is no small thing—not just anyone is privy to what he conceals.
Taken a bit aback as the undercurrent of what’s being said without being said dawns on her, Claire inquires, “You don’t mind me seeing your back?”
Smiling confidently, Jamie responds, “I don’t. You seem to have a knack for letting me know you feel sorry for it without making me feel pitiful about it.” You see me—not what’s been done to me. They both smile and break eye contact. The weight of what Jamie has just confessed hangs in the air. He trusts her completely and unlike any other.
The silence lingering, they both stay side by side, waiting for the other to speak first.
Looking upon Claire and distinctly aware of the circumstances, the corners of Jamie’s mouth upturn as he announces, “Anyway…I should go.” For if I stay too long, I might not be able to ever leave you.
He rises from their stance and intends to exit when a “Wait,” causes him to pause. Turning around Claire approaches Jamie saying, “Let me have a look at that.” It’s almost as if she can’t bear for him to leave—not just yet.
All too quickly, she is standing right before him. Her hands come to the cloth around his neck delicately removing it.
Inhaling ever so carefully, Jamie then loses his breath as Claire unties his shirt and slips her hand inside to check the injury.
He is completely aware of her on his skin and the affect that it has on him.
“Hmmmm, scabbed over nicely; no drainage.”
And for a moment time stops. The world stills.
The only reality either of them is mindful of is the air they share.Their eyes meet. The chemistry undeniable. The passion palpable. The tension thick. The desire mutual.
Overcome, Claire finally breaks eye contact and breathes out, declaring, “Take those bandages off in a few days.”
Without removing his eyes from her for a moment, Jamie beams, conceding, “As ye say.” I will do whatever ye wish.
Looking at again him, with an air of reluctance, she nods and bids him farewell: “Goodnight, Mr. MacTavish.”
Taking a breath of courage, Jamie smiles sheepishly at Claire and speaks three clear words: “Goodnight Mistress Beauchamp.”
He disappears into the night.
And Claire is left alone, trying to recover, adrift in what he has stirred in her.
So much could have unfolded in this moment and yet seemingly nothing did.
It is an interaction that for all appearances was normal.
And yet there was nothing ordinary about it.
Everything happens by nothing happening.
James Fraser stands before the yearning of his soul: the woman of Claire Beauchamp and tells her goodnight.
He does not linger.
He does not ask her to stay longer.
He does not kiss her.
He does not even touch her.
However do not be mistaken, what happens in this moment is quite tantalizing.
Claire is incredibly close—skin on skin. They are hooked on each other.
The connection between them is undeniable: obvious to the both of them.
And yet…the contact remains a medical hand on a shoulder.
And nothing more.
Jamie has every opportunity in this moment to take advantage of Claire and he does not. He doesn’t even reciprocate with a touch.
Try to for a mere second imagine what his hands yearned to do. Still he does not lift a finger.
He stands there, a pillar of self-control, while the woman he loves essentially undresses him.
Why?
There is no denying the depths of his attraction for her. There is no skirting around his physical response to her.
He wants her.
Furthermore, by the manner with which Claire looks at him, it is not a stretch to imagine that she would not mind his hands on her or even perhaps a kiss.
So why does he withhold?
Why does he deny himself?
Because love does not force its own will against the beloved. Love does not rush. It is not in a hurry.
Jamie knows that Claire is not his. She is not his wife.
Despite the longing he has for this woman, that does not negate the fact that he respects her more than he regards his own flesh.
Because of the extravagance of his love for her, he does not exert himself.
He waits. Jamie waits. He sees an opportunity and instead of claiming it for himself, he waits for her.
Claire is worth it to him.
She is worth the delay.
She is worth the denial of his desires.
Because love is patient.