Telemachus (Odyssey) haters, I want you to know that you have the absolute right to hate him because A: Anyone can hate any character they want; you don't need a reason. B: Telemachus in Odyssey is a complete piece of shit. But you need to understand that Telemachus Epic fans are Telemachus EPIC fans. Come on, this show has been around for three years. You should have understood by now that they're different media. Besides, there's no problem in liking shitty characters (as long as you recognize that they're shitty).
Personally, I like to think that Telemachus from Odyssey evolved as a person after the events of Odyssey. Also, because it's either that or getting slapped in the mouth so hard by Odysseus that your jaw will dislocate.
PARIS! The city of love in the summer! ,, Gregory spoils christophe once again with a new fancy clothing,tickets to visit Paris, and a new golden necklace/pendant that Christophe surely adores. (Despite him not really a jewelry person, he loves and cherishes all the gifts Gregory gives him. Christophe should give Gregory something back .. 🥺🥺) 🫶🫶🫶
Beta-d, as always, by @theministerskat! Thank you, love!
And thank you all for sticking with me and for the love you’ve shown to these two kids!! ❤️
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Chapter 55. Paris
I always loved traveling. Every time Lamb announced we were moving to another country, he made it seem like an adventure. And all I could see was another world waiting for us to explore -- new tastes, new smells, new people. And always an archaeological site with new findings to visit. That was living with Lamb. My trip to Zambia was the same. An adventure, yes, but always with an underlying purpose behind it. I had never traveled for the sake of it, for fun. Never, until Jamie took me to Paris.
Jenny knew. Of course she did. And she hadn't said a word, looking at me with disappointment instead, when I told her Jamie wanted to stay at home once he returned. Lamb had known as well, and he funded the trip together with Brian. A gift, they had said, because we both deserved it.
Jamie began teasing me about my plans for a road trip through Scotland the moment he freed his lips from mine. “Maybe you’d rather cancel Paris, Sassenach?” he asked with a mischievous grin. “Go to this road trip to the North Coast instead?”
“It was a great idea, you know.” I narrowed my eyes, daring him to utter one more word. “But Paris is…”
“Paris,” he finished for me, and pulled me into his arms again.
I claimed the seat by the window when we boarded, ignored how the armrest between us squeezed into me just below my waist and leaned into him. Jamie rested his head on top of mine and we watched Edinburgh get smaller and smaller, until puffy cotton clouds danced around us. He slept soon after, his excitement finally superseded by fatigue and jet-lag.
I found it impossible to settle down. Paris. We were going to Paris and my boyfriend was the best conniving liar I could ever ask for. I snuggled closer to him and let his warmth pulse through my body. Just having him beside me, feeling my unruly curls dance with each of his breaths, was enough. He tightened his arms around me in his sleep, and as we soared away from Scotland, I knew I was home.
--
The first thing we learned about Paris was what a maze the Métro de Paris was. Lines -- blue, yellow, red, purple -- crisscrossed the map on the wall opposite the ticket office, challenging us to find which of the 16 lines would take us to the station closest to our hotel.
Jamie was murmuring names of metro stops, showing off his nearly perfect French accent, while I scanned the region around our hotel on my phone, throwing names at him while he tried to find them on the map. We were getting nowhere, when a man came up to us, free maps in his hands, speaking English with a beautiful French accent. He introduced himself and asked if we needed any help. I could have kissed him.
“Yes!” My immediate reply came together with Jamie’s decline of the offer. “What?” I looked at him over my shoulder. “We’ve been staring at this map for five minutes!”
“I need one more minute…” he murmured, his eyes still scanning the innumerable stops on the map. I tried hard not to roll my eyes -- and failed.
One more minute my arse.
I showed Adrian the location of our hotel on Google Maps and five minutes later we jumped on train, panting from running down the stairs, Jamie still not talking at me. There were no empty seats, so we squeezed behind two huge blonde men with backpacks, while trying to move our luggage out of the way.
“Jamie,” I tilted my head towards him after we pulled away from the second stop, hoping that his indignation had subsided. I kept my eyes on him, waiting for a reply, wanting him to look at me. It didn’t work. He kept looking out the window, as if whole landscapes were unfurled in front of him. I would not allow him any time for egotistical male pride while we were in Paris of all places, and seeing that he left me no other options, I pinched his side.
“Sassenach,” he hissed, but he finally looked at me.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, although I knew very well what he was brooding about.
“Nothing.”
“Jamie…” My tone wasn’t sweet this time. His name had become a warning. If his behavior lasted five more minutes, I would be the one not talking to him.
“I would have found it, ye ken. Wasna that difficult.”
“I know you would have!” He pursed his lips but didn’t respond. “It was hot in there, and crowded, and I just wanted to get done with it and go to the hotel! And Adrian offered.”
“Of course he did.”
“It’s his job, you know. You saw the vest he was wearing, didn’t you?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Asking people for help isn’t bad.”
“Mmhmm.” But the frown had left his brow, and his lips twitched at the side, as they always did when he refused to admit he was wrong.
“You’re insufferable,” I said at last, and leaned over my suitcase to kiss his cheek.
He smiled at me, his slanted eyes somewhat remorseful. “Come here?” he asked, kicking the luggage from between us so I could walk right to him.
--
The lady at the reception was polite, her eyes bored behind her rimless glasses. She certainly didn’t share our twin smiles or our excitement about being in Paris. She gave us two card keys, gestured at the tiny elevator while instructing us not to go up together because we had our luggage, and wished us a nice stay. Jamie went first and waited for me right outside the elevator door. We walked down the long corridor together and found our room at the end of it. It was simple, white with a royal blue carpet and paintings on the walls. I didn’t have time to comment on it or inspect it better, because the moment the door closed behind us, Jamie was all over me. One hand in my curls, tilting my head up to have better access to my mouth, the other roaming over my body, grabbing and teasing.
At last, I smiled against his mouth. “I need a shower,” I said, feeling the sweat coating my body. I made to sniff at him, ready to claim that he needed one too, but his perfume hit me, together with his musky scent accentuated from our travel and all thought left my mind, apart from one. I hadn’t smelled him for so long, it felt painful and comforting at the same time.
Jamie didn’t reply. He nibbled my neck and kept kissing me, slowly walking us to the bathroom while clothes were shed on the floor.
We remained under the water torrent a considerably longer time than a person needs to shower. Not that either of us expected anything different the moment we crammed into the small space together, laughing.
The water wasn’t as hot as I liked, but it was a compromise we both made after the first time we showered together. The temperature of the water though, was a trifling detail. What mattered was that Jamie’s hands slid over my body, his teeth locked onto the sensitive skin of my neck, his groans reverberating in the small room.
And my moans, if I wanted to be fair.
It was a dance, the way our bodies responded to each other. Jammed between the glass doors of the small shower with almost no space to move, my back on the wall, my legs locked on his waist, Jamie’s body was the only reason I stayed upright while his mouth made me melt. And when I felt him inside me, panting in my ear how much he missed me and that he loved me, a sensation took over me, freeing and tethering; I was connected to him with a solid, unfaltering thread, but I was still myself, and that was the most powerful feeling I had ever felt. I was his, but I was mine as well. Because Jamie knew all that I was and loved me for it. No matter how much time had passed since we felt each other last. He casted no molds to make me fit in, to make me change into something else. And for that reason I had trusted myself to him, knowing he’d keep me safe and cherish me like a gift. Even if I wasn’t perfect. We had chosen each other and that made us strong. It made us different.
We lay in bed for a long time after our shower, feeling each other, comparing the skin underneath our fingers with the one held by our memories. Refining the details we had forgotten.
The curve where his deltoid met his biceps was smoother than I remembered. His chest felt wider, his hip bones more prominent. I didn’t know if my memory had betrayed me or he had changed these past few months. The changes were small, almost imperceptible.
But the trail of auburn hair beneath his navel is the same, I thought with a smile.
When I glanced up to look at Jamie, he was studying my hair.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get bored looking at the colours of yer hair, Sassenach. They are light and dark, soft and strong. Like you.”
I laughed and shook my head, the curls slipping out of his fingers. “They are just brown, you know.”
He huffed. “Ye say the same for yer eyes.”
“Because they are brown, too,” I laughed, raising both eyebrows.
“No they’re not. They’re like whisky.”
“Amber?” I frowned, doubting him.
“Yes. Amber and whisky and gold,” he added, and before I had time to reply that I was not a wolf, he moved on top of me. A wicked grin was all I could see before he made his intentions clear and dove for my mouth.
It was two hours later, when I felt guilty enough to drag Jamie out of bed. “Come on, we didn’t come here to stay in a hotel room! We have to see Paris!”
“I have to see you,” he said in response with a lopsided smile, bringing a hand around my waist, his fingers trailing patterns on my ribs.
I tried to ignore how my heart thrummed in my chest.
How can he still do that?
“I’m here! You saw me,” I retorted and laughed. “And I will be right next to you, Jamie Fraser, even when we leave this room. Now get your arse off the bed and get dressed!”
When we finally left the room it was almost night. But it didn’t matter. The Parisian lights were everything I had imagined and more.
--
Our week in Paris held some of the most beautiful moments of my life. I had Jamie by my side, and the City of Lights to explore.
The first morning, during breakfast, after realizing that Jamie’s plans ended with our arrival and accommodations in Paris, I made up and wrote out our itinerary. Based on the map I got from the hotel reception and the “must-visit” posts I found online, I split the city in quarters and organized our trip based on which places we’d visit each day. Jamie kept silent while I babbled about our schedule, and ate his sandwich looking at the Parisians passing by our cafe. His eyes became wide when I finished my search and showed him the list of places we absolutely had to visit. Then he looked at my foolish grin, chuckled, licked the mayonnaise from the corner of his mouth and gave me a kiss that tasted of butter and cheese.
We walked along the Seine every day. We crossed the river through Pont des Arts to visit the Eiffel Tower and the Luxembourg Gardens, which felt strangely familiar after having read Les Misérables, and we waited for an eternity in the line to enter Notre Dame. We stopped to listen to local street bands, their music painting the city with colour, and kept the rhythm in our hearts for hours later.
No matter what the itinerary was for the day, the list always included eating fruit tarts, quiches, and baguettes with the most decadently delicious cheeses. It felt like paradise.
“Coach is going to kill me if I go back ten pounds heavier,” Jamie murmured, his mouth still full with the pain au chocolat he bought from the boulangerie we’d stopped at for a break.
“At least I’m eating healthy.” My blueberry tart had, at least, some fruit in it.
“Keep telling yerself that, babe. Ye’re lucky I like your arse plump.”
“My arse isn’t plump!”
“Oh, aye, ‘tis. I studied it verra well last night, aye? I should know.”
I pursed my lips, shooting at him my most intimidating glance.
“I’m in trouble now?” he asked a moment later, licking chocolate from his fingers.
“You certainly are, Jamie Fraser,” I answered, grabbed the chocolate pastry from his hand and bolted across the park from where we were sitting. I had eaten his pastry before he caught up with me, but didn’t manage to defend my tart before he took a huge bite in retribution.
After that, it was easy to convince him to join a free walking tour, following Marie as she showed us known and hidden gems in the city, and we listened to the stories behind statues and buildings, stories of the people who left their names woven into the history of this city.
Paris was magical. But I knew that feeling of complete happiness wasn’t only because of the city. It was because Jamie was so close to me again. I could reach out and touch his smile, I could rise on my tiptoes and taste it. He was here. We were together. For all the beats our hearts had missed these past months, they were still beating to the same rhythm. Six months apart and nothing had changed.
As we walked through Les Marais, staring at the art displayed in the various galleries, Jamie turned to look at me and the happiness in his eyes rendered me speechless. All my fears and insecurities melted, fading away. The light in his eyes, that loving gaze, was a promise of future days and belonging.
I had felt the future looming over us when we were apart. I had feared it, even. Feared the unknown that it brought with it. But looking at Jamie, feeling his strong arm around my shoulders as he pulled me into him, I knew.
Yes, I would go to Oxford and we'd be apart again. But I would wait for him. I would wait as long as I needed to, until the time would come and I'd wake up next to him every morning, nuzzle his neck and then try to convince him to get out of bed and make some coffee. I wanted to tell him that, tell him that we'd make it, that I believed in us. But I kept myself in check, as if saying the words aloud would break some kind of spell. I felt guilty and foolish for thinking that way, as I felt guilty for doubting that we would make it, but I still didn’t voice it, not wanting to dare fate to play with us.
Not that I believed in fate. I believed in our love and trust. But saying those things out loud would start a conversation about doubts and uncertainty, even though I would only claim the opposite. So I didn’t talk.
I didn’t talk about Oxford, or Michigan, about swimming, school, or the distance between us. I wanted to live each day with him now that he was close, savouring the sun’s warmth on our faces, the Paris around us and the feeling of holding each other’s hand, safe and solid on our side. So I rose on my tiptoes instead, brought his face down to mine, and kissed all my conviction into him. It was enough.
--
It was our last day and we were sitting on a bench by the Seine, looking out at the sun glittering on the water’s surface like stars that couldn’t withstand the summer’s heat and went in for a dive, when Jamie gave a long sigh.
“I think I know what I want to do with my life,” he said, eyes fixed on the water.
“Mmm?” I opened my mouth to tease him about being the best swimmer in the world, but clamped it shut again. Last year had been hard on Jamie, between his own dreams and his father’s, between swimming and the family business at Lallybroch. Michigan was ideal because it combined both prospects for Jamie’s future without forcing him to choose. Not yet.
It was a while before he spoke again. “Do you think that Ian and Jenny will be happy at Lallybroch?” he asked, his hand fidgeting with my fingers on his thigh. “If they kept the business, I mean.”
The business that his father wanted for him. I took a moment before I replied. “Yes, I think so. They are so excited about Lallider. Considering that Ian will go to business school, he will be able to run it. And Jenny…” Jenny would go to College of Arts, but that had nothing to do with Jamie’s question. It was my turn to sigh. “Lallybroch is a part of her as much as Ian is, I think. I hadn’t realized that, before staying with them after I came back from Zambia. Jenny belongs there. And even if they keep the business, she will always be able to paint.” I didn’t ask him what he was thinking, or why he would ask such questions.
Jamie didn’t look at me, his fingers now tracing circles on my open palm. “And my Da? How was he, with Lallider, with Jenny and Ian’s work?”
“Happy,” I said, and smiled. “And proud.”
Jamie’s face brightened up at that. “Maybe I can still convince him to change his plans, then. Jenny and Ian couldn’t stop talking about Lallider and their part in the whisky making every time they called.”
“Jamie?” I didn’t continue, willing him to look at me. When he did, his mouth was tight, but his eyes held hope. “What do you want to do with your life?”
A wistful smile. “I want…” He huffed a chuckle. “It might sound stupid.”
“Go on.”
“I can’t be a professional swimmer forever, ye ken. And our family business is great, and I want the best for it but it doesn’t… speak to my heart.”
“I know,” I said in a low voice, wanting to encourage him.
“So, I was thinking of teaching swimming to children with disabilities. Maybe having my own pool, at some point. I would like to help people and give them an escape, make them feel how wonderful it is to be in the water. There is no place for aquatic therapy in the Highlands, I think. Not close to Lallybroch, at least.”
My heart swelled and I smiled as I interlaced his fingers with mine. “I think that is wonderful, Jamie.”
“You do? It doesna seem like a silly dream to ye?”
I shook my head. “Silly dreams are all we have to guide us in this life. Dreams that seem impossible. But they’re not, Jamie. And I promise you that we will be together when you give your first swimming lesson. I will be there, just to remind you of what you have accomplished.”
He kissed me. It wasn’t passionate, or consuming. It was slow, reverent.
“I love you,” he said, his sapphire eyes glassy with unshed tears.
“I love you, too.”
We spent the rest of the afternoon making plans, trying to estimate how many years Jamie would give swimming classes in the same pool he’d trained as a kid while working at Lallybroch before he had enough money set aside to get a loan and start his own business. How I could apply for a position in a hospital in Inverness, or start my own private medical practice close to Lallybroch. We talked until the sun set and the lights of the city danced on the water like fireflies, keeping the smiles on our faces as we built the machination that would make our silly dreams come true.
