We Are Home
*See end of chapter for a glossary of Gaelic terms.
Note: I don't own any of the characters or the original concept of Outlander and I greatly respect those who created them and bring them to life on the screen.
Please take the time to review my writing so that I may learn to be better. Thank you.
Chapter 1: The Lie
"Jesus H Roosevelt Christ." Claire gasped as she read the words again. She hadn't meant to read Frank's mail but had opened it by mistake without thinking when she had seen that it was sent from Reverend Wakefield.
'I have found the evidence you requested, the enclosed document confirms that one James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser was indeed captured by the British after the battle of Culloden but was later pardoned after two years of incarceration along with his men after his claims that the signature on Prince Sturts decree was not his as he was not in France at the time of its creation. Having sworn his allegiance to the rightful King he was returned to his state at Lallybroch, and ordered to help the British reclaim the Scottish lands as their own…."
"He's alive!" The other letters fell to the floor as she read the words over and over again, her legs buckling from under her as she sat in the hallway of the home she shared with Frank. Holding the letter tight, tears running down her face. Frank had sworn that he had prof that he had died. Just two nights ago he had confirmed as much as we sat by the fire retracing the genealogy of another client, who had been related to one of our brave fighters so long ago. But this letter had been sent a week ago, "it is confirmed" the reverend had written. How could Frank have lied to her like that? Did he lie? He could think of no other reasonable explanation. Would he tell her? A thousand thoughts ran through her mind. Why had he kept this from her? Startled by the sound of something falling behind her, she recalled what she had been doing before the envelope had changed her life.
"Why are you crying mummy?" Her beautiful red headed Scot asked her from behind her father's piercing blue eyes. She held out her toy rabbit and offered it to her. She was barely four, but already wise beyond her years. She was tall like him, and when she laughed, she could hear his own laugh echoed within her. Reaching out to take her daughters beloved toy, she choked back her tears, wiped her face and smiled reassuringly.
JAMMF
"Mummy just got a letter from an old friend that's all." I smiled, hugging the rabbit and giving it back to her. "What shall we have for dinner? Daddy will be home soon." I asked her as I returned the letters to the front dresser and took her hand, leading her into the kitchen, the Reverends letter hidden in my pocket.
"Sketti." Brianna answered with a wide grin as she held out her hands asking to be embraced.
Taking her in my arms I hugged her tight before picking her up and placed her on the table beside me. As I tied my apron on I couldn't resist bopping her on the nose as I agreed, "Sketti it is then." I never had learned to cook, but I could make a decent version of spaghetti and meatballs. We fumbled our way through the recipe, as always, and before I knew it dinner was ready. I fed Bree as we ate together by the late afternoon light, laughing at her wild stories and playing tea parties, before bathing her quickly and putting her to bed. By the time Frank got home it was already dark, as was quiet common. We had never managed to find our spark again, not since my return, and it was taking its toll on both of us. Frank had started staying later and later at work, or so he told me, and it had been months since we had shared the same bed. Tonight, I had determined that I would ask him about the letter, to set things clear once and for all.
"How was your dinner?" I asked him, sitting opposite him at the table as I sipped on my whiskey, watching him nibble at each spoonful while he read the evening paper.
"It's good." He replied as always. Not lifting his eyes to look at me as he answered.
"Did you read the mail today?" I began, better now than never.
"No." He looked up at me briefly, "Anything remarkable?"
"We received a letter from Reverend Wakefield." I began. "He has some interesting news." With that I saw the blood fade from Frank's face as his hand froze, halfway between the bowl and his chin. He looked up at me and his eyes bore into me with an odd mixture of anger and regret.
"Claire." Frank began, struggling to find the words, but I cut him off.
"I thought we had an agreement." I asked him, "You asked me not to speak of my time with Jamie and in return you promised to find out what happened, and not to lie to me."
"I don't know what to say?" Frank looked defeated, almost relieved, why wasn't he putting up a defence?
"You could start by telling me why you lied to me." I begged, my hands now curled into fists as I leaned forward, ready to pounce. "You told me he was dead."
"For god's sake Claire. What did you expect me to tell you?" He finally bit back, "He's always going to be there between us, hanging over our heads." Frank stood up now, leaning hard on the desk as he tried to control his anger.
Matching his stance, I stood up unable to control my own. "And that's my fault?" I bellowed at him.
"Yes. No. God I don't know." He shook his head, then turned away a moment.
There was an air of blame, of accusation in his tone like I had chosen to disappear all those years ago. "I didn't ask for any of this." I reminded him.
"Neither did I." He yelled back, "But he's a part of our lives now whether I like it or not." He vexed, glancing toward the hall leading to Bree's room. I stood back, disgusted, angered, he'd never taken this out on Brianna before, never showed anything but affection for her, but now there was a flicker of resentment, of jealousy in his eye as he mentioned her.
"We'll no one is forcing you to stay." I reminded him, I had money of my own, I could support Bree and myself well enough if need be. It was clear to me by now that Frank and I would never be to each other what we once were. "If it's that hard for you why do you stay?"
"Damn it Claire." He swore at me, pushing the bowl away forcefully as he threw his napkin down and headed for the door. "Sometimes I ask myself the same question." He reflected as he grabbed his coat and headed for the door, as he often did after one of our brawls. Only to return hours later, stone drunk and broke, smelling of cheap perfume. I didn't even try to stop him this time, I just let him go.
As the familiar click of the front door latching echoed down the hall I sat at the table and took the letter out of my pocket, reading it over and over again. What was I going to do? I searched through the hallway table to find the number to Reverend Wakefield's cottage in Inverness. I needed to speak to him, I needed to seek council from Mrs Graham, I prayed she might have some answers for me. But as I dialled the number and waited for the call to connect, my hand shook and I found myself mute. The voice at the other end of the line enquired as to who was disturbing them so late at night, but I couldn't answer. Instead I found myself hanging up forcefully and looking to the closed door at the end of the hall.
JAMMF
Surprised hardly covered the expression on Reverend Wakefield's face as he opened his door six days later to find me and Bree standing on his doorstep. I had decided against telling him of my plans in case he had tried to talk me out of it, or had informed Frank in the hopes that he would stop me. To my delight Mrs Graham was still in his employ and had greeted us with great joy as she embraced me tightly then grabbed a nervous Brianna by the hand ad offered to show her where the cookies were hidden in the kitchen. A gesture for which I was most grateful. I told him about the letter and about Frank, he wasn't surprised that we had found it difficult to make things work. He told me everything he knew about Culloden, Lallybrook and I listened with baited breath as he spoke of Jamie and his men.
"The wee one is off with the fairies." Mrs Graham informed me as she brought in a fresh pot of tea and some cake. "I put her in Rogers room for the night, I hope you don't mind."
I reached out and grabbed the cup she offered, "Thank you." I acknowledged as I took a sip. I hadn't realised how long I had been sitting there, the hour was quite late but I had no desire to sleep.
"What do you intend to do?" Mrs Graham asked me bluntly as she sat down beside us, a look of dread mixed with excitement on her face. "Surely you don't mean to try and go back?"
I had thought of nothing else since I had read that letter. "I can't see any other way. If he's alive I need to go to him."
"But what about your wee one? Surely you don't mean to leave her behind?" She stared at me with disapproval.
I looked to the Reverend and then to Mrs Graham, "I was hoping you would be able to help guide me. I aim to take her with me."
"You what?" She appeared quite shocked at the suggestion, "It's too dangerous." She shook her head, the tea spilling from her cup as she placed it down in the table.
"Why?" I asked, seeking the answers, "She deserves to know her father, her real father, and he deserves to know her as well."
"It doesn't work like that." She roared at me, "We spoke of this before, not everyone can travel through the stones, you know that better than I." She warned me, "When you first returned, you told me Jamie had tried to come with you, but that the stones had prevented it."
"You also told me that there was a way to test if a person could travel or not." I reminded her, "I need to know."
"It's too dangerous." She refused again "What if it doesn't work? What if she can't travel?"
"Please Mrs Graham, I need to know. I owe it to Jamie to try." I stared at her, begging, longing to be in his arms again. I was so close I could already feel myself reaching out for him.
"I cannot hear any more of this." The Reverend excused himself, "I'm sorry my child but the hour is late, I think I shall retire to my bed chamber." He apologised as he headed for the stairs, "Please Claire, think about what you're doing. You were lucky once, but I'd hate to see anything happen to you or your little one." He counselled me, knowing my mind was already made up. He stared at me a moment, as if saying his goodbyes, and then made his way slowly up the stairs. I knew his faith had been tested by my situation, and I regretted the strain I was putting him under, but I had no other choice. He was my only link to Jamie and my future.
After a long uncomfortable silence Mrs Graham leaned forward and took my hand in hers, "There is a way." Mrs Graham whispered softly as she pulled out an old chest, covered in a knitted doyley and placed it on the table. "If you are determined to do this then I will help you, if not for your sake but the child's. This belonged to my grandmother." She began as she opened the lid, my skin crawled and my heart froze as I heard the sound familiar sound of the wind calling my name as my bones hummed, involuntarily reaching out to touch it. "It's said to have mystical properties."
"You can say that again." I whispered, trying to catch my breath, a tear escaping down my cheek.
"You hear it. Don't you Claire?" She asked, looking up at me and taking my hand. She seemed sad, almost envious and I realised, she had grown up with the stories, even danced at the stones, had she dreamed to one day be a traveller herself only to find herself rejected like so many others.
"It's calling to me, just like..." I stopped myself, no need to taunt her any further.
".. before." She finished for me. "Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't dream of stopping you from finding your beloved Jamie, but it is a dangerous journey you are about to set upon. Not only the trip through the stones, but how will you find him once you get there? It is not a safe place for a young woman on her own, as you well know yourself, let alone for a child."
"I have that all covered." I assured her. "It's only a five day journey to Lallybrook by horse and once there I'm sure Jenny will be able to get word to her brother, if he isn't already waiting for us."
Mrs Graham seemed to relax a little, no longer intent trying to make me change my mind, she began helping me to plan my journey. "What about provisions?" She asked.
"I have Jamie's pearls. I'm sure he'll understand if I sold them for coin." Even saying it filled me with regret, they meant so much to him, and me, but finding my way back to him was more important. "And Jamie taught me how to live off of the land if need be."
"Oh my sweet girl." I thought I saw a tear in her eye as Mrs Graham excused herself a moment and fussed with something in a nearby cabinet.
"I'll be all right, I promise." I assured her as she came to sit back beside me, a small cloth in her hand.
"I want you to take this." She said, thrusting it into my hands, "No argument." I took it begrudgingly from her and unwrapped it.
Inside was the most beautiful golden brooch with red rubies. It was clearly of great importance to her and a family heirloom. "I can't." I tried to hand it back but she refused.
"I have no daughters or sons of my own to pass it down to and those who are left do not appreciate the sentimental value of which it holds." She said softly as she took my hands in hers. "You are as if you were a daughter to me Claire, and if this gift can help you find your one true love, your Jamie, then it will make me happier than you can imagine."
"I don't know what to say?" How could I ever repay her for such a gift?
"Just tell me you'll be safe, that you will always remember me."
"I will." I promised her as I hugged her tight, the realisation dawning on me that I may never see her again. We held each other tight, two kindred spirits about to take on the world.
Gaelic Dictionary:
Dinna Fash: Don't worry
Mo nighean donn: My brown haired one
Mo Gradh: My love
Sassenach: Outsider / Englishman (term of affection by Jamie)
Je Suis Prest: I am ready
* Please Review