I know you I can't get used to missing you I know you
You're not from here
I've waited for you to appear
To take my breath away
And make me weep
You're not from here
Not from this here and now
Just a touch of yours
And I fly... and I fly... and I fly
If this is how it's gotta be
I need an angel to watch over me
No one can hold the hands of time
But I can hold you in my mind
Over and over like a melody
For now
I'll stand still
For now
I'll be filled by the memory of your skin
You're not from here
You don't belong to lies and tears
The greatness of your soul
Makes me weep
You're not from here
Not from this here and now
Just a touch of yours
And I fly... and I fly... and I fly
The wind whipped around her, but Claire didn't care. She curled into herself on the edge of land where the woods meet meadow near Crag Nu Dunn, trying not to recall that not quite four years pass she had sat in the woods close by next to Frank watching as Mrs. Graham and the other women called the sun in a Pagan ritual. She didn't want to remember that. Didn't want to think of the 1940s and the world that awaited her when she walked away from the stones and back into Inverness and the world that she had left behind.
She wasn't even sure that there would be anything left for her. Although she had promised Jamie she would come back here and to Frank she wondered what had possessed her to. Would Frank even be waiting for her? After all, she had moved on in these past three and a half years, why wouldn't he? Wouldn't they have thought her faithless and feckless? Just another woman run off with some lover she had met during the War? Ifrinn! Hadn't Frank already accused her of having had a lover while they were apart? Hadn't she heard the rumors floating around camp that he had had a few of his own (not that she believed them; not uptight, righteous, and virtuous Frank Randall!) But a total of nearly nine years was a long time to go without companionship and human touch. She couldn't blame him if he had found comfort in someone else's arms- and it would be hypocritical of her to do so since she was returning to him pregnant with another man's- al bit her husband's child.
And how the hell was she supposed to explain that without getting herself sent to a sanitarium and losing said child, she wondered. Where the hell was she supposed to say that she had been for the last three and a half years? That was how much time had elapsed here too, she assumed. But what if it hadn't? What if it was less? Or more? The only idea she had on how the blasted stones worked was based on the bard's stories, and they only told the one part. The part of the lass who came to a world she didn't know and adapted and grew to love it until she slipped back through Crag Nu Dunn and went back to her own time- at least that's where they assumed she went. What if she hadn't even made it back to 1940-whatever? What if she was in some other world all alone and now expecting a baby she had to keep safe… suddenly overwhelmed and feeling so very alone tears started to stream down her cheeks and she buried her head in her knees praying for a miracle that would mean she wouldn't be facing this new miracle alone. She so wanted Jamie right now, but, God , she admitted, she would just settle for any familiar, friendly face, for she knew Jamie wouldn't turn from the fate that awaited him on Culloden Moor. He wouldn't even try. Not even for her…
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Frank smiled as he opened the door to his small apartment to Victoria. "I'm glad you could make it."
"I'm glad you asked me to come," she replied as she stepped in a smile on her lips and laughter in her eyes.
"I've missed you," he admitted as he shut the door and moved to follow her, kissing her softly on the lips as he walked her backwards to the couch.
"Frank," she muttered against his lips as she pulled slightly back. "Really? Can't we at least have dinner first?"
"Hmmm…" he remarked as he pulled back and pulled down on his suit jacket. "I suppose. I did get take away."
"From the little place I like down the road?" she wondered as she played at patting down his lapels, a slight smirk forming on her lips.
"Where else?" he asked stepping away from her and sidestepping to pour them both a drink.
Victoria laughed as she sat on the couch, allowing her skirt to inch up slightly higher than necessary: "you must really want to impress me tonight, Professor Randall," she teased to regain his attention.
"Oh, but I always want to impress you, Professor Hunter."
She leaned forward shaking her head as she grabbed his hand with one of her own hands and reached up with the other to bring his head down towards hers: "you know you don't have to try so hard. You always impress me."
"Hmmm… I thought you wanted dinner…" he muttered against her lips as he pushed her back and down on the couch.
"I think I want the appetizer first…"
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Murtaugh felt that he had been thrown from and then trampled by a horse as he lay on his back and stared at the silvery grey sky, a curse on his lips as he tried to move his limbs. Feeling his empty arms, he was immediately alarmed and came to full awareness of where he was and why he was there.
He might not have any clue of what time he was in, but he knew what he had to do. Pushing to his feet, he immediately looked round for his young charge, a lump forming in his throat when he didn't see her at first glance in the clearing- but then he stood trying to take in the area, his senses on alert, and heard the slight whimpering being carried on the wind over the howling of the peculiar stones. Moving quickly, he rounded the closest one and found Faith lying on her father's plaid crying. "Well of course she's crying, it wasn't exactly easy on your body. How do you think she feels?" he chastised himself as he went to her and picked her up, making sure the plaid was wrapped around her to keep the chill away. "Much, mo naoidheachan, much" he said rubbing her back soothingly as he stood and waited a few moments for her to nestle into his shoulder comfortably. "Let's go see if we can find your Mam, hmmm?" he said into her hair as he took in the area and got his barings. With no other clues as to how to find Claire he headed in the direction she had taken the last time and headed to where he thought the spot where he found her was. He wasn't sure if he was in the right time or could find her, but he did have some information.
She had been a nurse and was married to a descendent of Black Jack Randall's- a man who was apparently even more of his double than his brother Alex had been- named Frank Randall. In this time and world she was Claire Beauchamp Randall. It was his job and duty to find her and reunite her with her daughter and to stay and protect them. He had sworn to his godson he would, the only problem was the Clot-heid hadn't taken into account that her other husband probably wouldn't take kindly to another man being assigned the task of protecting his wife. He doubted Jamie would if he was in this Randall's shoes and, from what he had heard of him from Claire, he had the distinct impression that the man was an arse. It didn't matter to him what the man thought, though. He had made a vow and the only one who might be able to make him break it was Claire herself, and that would only be if she asked him to go back and try to save Jamie…
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"Ciamar a tha thu?" a voice asked Jamie as he started to take off his sword. Stopping short, he spun round to see his uncle Dougal in the doorway. Shaking his head he spread out his arms and stood staring the older man down.
"Come here to finish the job? Go ahead? I won't stop you," he challenged standing there calmly.
"Don't be daft boy. I'm not going to kill you!" Dougal scoffed.
"Ye tried hard enough to earlier."
"You were planning to kill Prince Tcharlach with that witch you married!"
"Do not call her that!" Jamie said moving quickly to stand toe to toe with his uncle. "And we were doing nothing of the sort. We were talking of foolishness. Ideas born of desperation!" he explained deflating slightly.
Dougal shook his head in exasperation: "we will win tomorrow!"
"How? Tell me how you think we're going to win tomorrow, Dougal? Ifrinn! We have no horses of worth because they've been eaten. The soldiers' are starving. Morale is almost nonexistent. There are deserters all around us!"
"I have to say I'm surprised you aren't one of them."
"I gave my word to fight. I will die on that field tomorrow with your or Simon's troops."
Dougal walked around the room to the small table and sat on it: "did you get the child to safety?"
"Murtaugh is getting her to somewhere where she will be safe."
"Good." Jamie raised an eyebrow at that as he turned to look at his uncle who shrugged: "so I have grown fond of the lassie"
"You thought this was no place for her."
"And it wasn't. War is no place for any child."
"And where should we have left her? At Lallybroch? To never even get this short amount of time with her?"
"Claire could have stayed behind with her like a proper wife!"
"And how many of the men who will be fighting beside you and I tomorrow would already be in their graves if she hadn't been with us?"
"Och," Dougal grunted. "You would have been better with a woman who knew her place- or who ye have taught it!"
Jamie shook his head: "you would have had less luck then I in that department, Uncle. At least she learned to heed me from time to time," he replied testily. "And she never would've gone to your bed. Had I not been saved from Wentworth there was already someone who was willing and planning to marry her to keep her from ye."
"You know about?"
"Aye, Claire and I rarely kept secrets. From the beginning we agreed to honesty. We might have kept things to ourselves but we never lied to each other and told each other of possible dangers."
"And she saw me as a danger did she?" Dougal asked slightly amused.
"Why?" Jamie demanded. "Why would you have me marry her and then ask to bed her? What could either of us have done to you to have you… I wanted her from the moment I saw her and loved her from the first night we spent in Leoch, when she tended me and ended up crying in my arms due to her lonieness."
"Do ye think I didn't see how you two looked at each other?" Dougal asked. "It was convenient and expedient that I had you two marry. You saved her from Randall and I blocked you from becoming Laird of the Mackenzies."
"I never wanted that. I always wanted to go home to Lallybroch and my own land and people- which your lies about Jenny kept me from."
"Would you have liked to be hangit!" Dougal roared as he cuffed Jamie on the back of the head. "It was the easiest place for Randall and the others to find you and find ye there they did!"
"I was betrayed!"
"Aye! Soft hearted and soft headed!" Dougal denounced. "Like your mother, God rest her soul," he paused and looked at Jamie after automatically making the sign of the cross at mentioning his late sister. "How you felt about Lallybroch- that and more is how I feel about Leoch. I am War Chieftain only because Colum was so ill. I gave up my own lands to help his flourish. I didn't get to watch my daughters grow because of my vow to him. To be his body. To collect his rents. To protect what was his. And how did he repay me?" he huffed. "He took credit for you. Turned you away from me."
"Any turning away I might have done was ye own fault, Uncle, because my loyalty lied with my name first and what I believed in."
"But, you had to vow to do his bidding. He took both my sons. The one I fostered and the one I sired. And then- then to add to it, he killed my mistress. And it wasn't just her he had prepared for the pyre."
"I could only save one of them," Jamie admitted.
Dougal nodded as he looked down at the floor: "and you saved your wife. I can't fault you for that. Geillis was a murderess, and perhaps in time would've killed me as well, but he put my child to death as well. He banished us knowing what he was going to do!" he said as he pounded the table with a fist. "Gave them no recourse…" Dougal turned angry eyes on Jamie: "him ye can forgive these trespasses, but me- ye forgive none?"
Jamie swallowed hard: "I hold no ill will for either of you."
"Oh aren't you the good Catholic!"
Jamie shook his head: "You are my uncles. My mother's brothers. There are things you have done that I don't understand, but… tomorrow you and I will fight together on that moor. Side to side. Back to back. We will more than likely die there. I would like to know some of the reasons why things were done before then. I can't ask him as he has already gone. But you… you were my foster father. You taught me to fight. You taught me what it was to be a Mackenzie. If people thought I'd make a good Laird it was from what I learned from you and- though you might not like to hear it- me Da. I am the man I am today because of the two of you. I can't ask my Da questions tonight. I can't ask him if I did right by him. If I made him proud, or if he was ashamed of me. If it was my fault that he died. I tried to do right by all that I could. My family, my clan, my tenants, and all others who counted on me. I wanted to be a good husband and father and protect my wife and child from harm but more times than not brought them into danger…"
"Gu leoir!" Dougal interrupted him. "Your wife got into more than her share of trouble on her own and she dragged you into it with her. If ye remember it was her not staying put that had us raiding Fort Williams to get her back from that bastard Randall."
"She returned the favor by storming Wentworth to get me out."
Dougal shook his head: "You take too much on yourself, a Seamus," he went on as he placed his hand on Jamie's shoulder. "Your father didn't die that day. Yes, he fell then, but he survived long enough for us to get him home and into your sister's care and for a day or two he fought, but he was too ill…."
"Claire said it had nothing to do with the flogging; that it probably would have happened anyway…"
"For all her faults, she is a good healer. Believe her, boy."
Jamie just nodded: "there is so much unsaid."
"There always is," Dougal admitted as he dropped his hand and stared across the room at the wall: "Brian was proud of you. How could he not be?"
"I was locked up in Fort Williams being flogged almost to death when he died!" Jamie admitted with a touch of shame.
"For trying to protect your sister!"
"And I spent years on the run as a murderer."
"We cleared your name."
Jamie turned slightly in his seat on the table: "but I have killed, Uncle. And I've lied and I've stole… I've committed many a sin he would not be proud of."
"You found a way to survive," Dougal redirected as he turned his attention back to Jamie. "You found a woman who you loved- maybe I forced the timing, but he would have been happy that she was your choice and so would have your mother."
"Why did you force the timing?" Jamie asked shaking his head. "It was more than Randall. We could have moved further on and avoided him and his men."
"Sometimes I forget you have a very strategic mind. Fine. Colum had already picked out a wife for you. She was a child and as I once heard Murtaugh say, you needed a woman to match you to reach your full potential. By forcing the time and having you wed to her I gave you what you wanted, foiled Colum, and made it so you couldn't be Laird because of your Sassenach. Would've worked out for all of us," Dougal admitted.
"But Colum was angered enough to think of a way to do away with two problems at once."
Dougal laughed: "oh no, he actually liked Claire. I heard tell one of your spawned lasses had heard Geillis was to be arrested and made sure that she was there with her. Colum just took advantage of the situation," he explained lapsing them into momentary silence.
"Are you afraid to die uncle?" Jamie wondered, as he picked at the warped wood of the table with his fingers
"No. And I don't believe we will. The Stewarts will rule again," the older man answered, his posture automatically strengthening with authority as he clapped a hand over his shoulder.
Jamie looked at him and shook his head: "is it wrong to say that now that they're gone I'm afraid to live?"
Dougal looked stunned at that: "they will return at some point."
"No. They won't."
"There will not always be a price on your heads. Even the English will have to give up on trying to go and hang a woman who just tended to men on both sides of the fight!"
"She won't return from where I sent her," he said then sighed. "I think I need a drink or two."
"You are not going into a battle hungover."
"I won't drink that much."
Dougal rose: "fine. We'll drink to their safe journey and see if we can find something approaching a meal then say a good confession and go to sleep. Tomorrow we fight and take Culloden."
"Yes, tomorrow we fight on Culloden…"
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Murtaugh stumbled slightly as he made his way down the hill near the edge of the wood where he was following fresh footprints. As he came to a stop, he took a moment to take in the whole area and took note that it was growing quieter. Standing there, he noted the sound of weeping and looked to his young charge who was looking at him somewhat contentedly. Frowning he moved in the direction of the sound, coming to an abrupt stop when he saw the huddled form on the grown. Shaking his head slightly he bent to the ground and placed Faith on her feet. "Who's that Faith?" he asked her, causing a smile to cross over the toddler's face as she took off on chubby legs and launch herself into the figure.
With a grunt, Claire automatically caught the body of the little girl and looked at her in shock, her face shooting up and eyes scanning the area, lighting with hope before landing on Murtaugh. As she stared at him surprise, confusion, and then resignation crossed her glass face. With a slight cry of despair she hid her face in her daughter's shoulder as she held the little girl tightly to her.
Slowly, folding the plaid as he went, Murtaugh crossed to them and then sat down next to Claire. Feeling him next to her and Faith fidgeting in the tight hold, she looked up and lowered her legs so she could pull the little girl onto her lap with her grubby doll. "How?" she asked, as she used the hand not holding her daughter to wipe away some of her own tears.
"You tell me," the older man replied evenly.
Claire swallowed as she leaned forward and kissed her daughter's head: "did he even try?" she wondered.
Murtaugh sighed: "said he couldn't hear them like we can. That his place was there and on the Moor tomorrow."
"I shouldn't have expected any less," she sighed as she looked at him. "And you?"
"He asked me to bring her to you and to protect you and the bairns."
"He told you?"
"Aye."
Nodding Claire fought back more tears: "did you… did you promise him?"
"Aye. I did."
"So you'll stay?"
"If ye want."
Claire looked at him: "it's not going to be easy."
"Och."
"How are we going to do this? Explain… if we tell the truth they'll think we're crazy!"
"You know more than I do how to handle things in this time, Claire," Murtaugh told her. "You have come up with good plans in the past."
"And look where it still lead us!" she said putting them in silence. Shaking her head she looked at him. "First we need to explain you… I don't have much family. My parents died when I was young. I only knew my father's brother… I suppose we can say you're an Uncle."
"Aye."
"But Frank would know different," she sighed in resignation. "He's the one we're going to have a problem with," she looked down at Faith. "I don't…"
"Best lies have some truth in them, Lass."
Claire cocked her head at him: "you found me near here. I was being attacked. Had a head injury… You took me with you and into the Highlands…" she started as she tried to smooth down some of Faith's wild curls. "I married Faith's father and he… he died in an accident, and the shock… the shock is what caused my memory to return," she said choking up and burying her head in her daughter's head. Ducking away, Faith turned and smiled up at Claire, taking her face in her chubby hands and kissing her: "no cry, Mama," she said. Nodding, Claire forced a smile and kissed her back before letting Faith cross over to Murtaugh who allowed the girl to settle in his lap.
"Is it believable?"
She shrugged: "there is a tramatic form of amnesia."
"And if they ask for specific places?"
"Ummm… we traveled a lot. You're good with horses… we say you were looking to train them… they should have been trying to rebuild the numbers of them from after the war effort so it wouldn't surprise people that you were traveling looking for work and it would explain how I wasn't found and how we didn't know Frank was looking for me.."
Murtaugh nodded: "all right. A plan then. It's getting late in the day. Let's start heading to town. Inverness, correct?"
"Jamie wanted me to wait till morning. I promised."
"He wanted to see if he could get Faith to you somehow…"
Claire nodded as she looked over to her daughter then exhaled: "alright, to Inverness…I guess we'll find out what year it is then. Umm… we might see automobiles on the road, to prepare you…"
"What are they?"
"They're ummm… they're a bit like a carriage, only they aren't pulled by horses. They are run my something called an engine. It's a machine inside the front of the car- andother name for an automobile. You ride in it to get from one place to another. If someone sees us walking and they're in one they might stop to offer us a ride into town," Claire babbled as they rose to their feet and she took Faith by the hand. Murtaugh frowned slightly at that, but shrugged. He supposed if she could learn how to live in the 1700s he could learn to live in her time.
"You are going to help me figure this time of yours out, aren't ye?"
Claire nodded: "Yes."
"Fine. But know I want to be useful as something more than a protector to you and your bairns. I need to be useful."
"There are still farms and horses still need training. There are cattle- although you can't rustle them without getting arrested," she said as they started walking. "I'm sure we'll find something you can do, Murtaugh. You have many skills, we just have to figure out how to apply them to this time."
"Like you did."
"Yes, like I did."
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Victoria laughed as she tried to put her earing in but Frank distracted her by kissing her neck. "I really do need to get dressed you know," she said as she leaned back into his chest.
"We could just skip breakfast," he remarked.
"Oh, like we did dinner? I don't think so mister," she said as she turned around and kissed him lightly on the lips as someone started knocking on his apartment's door. "Saved by the knock," she remarked as she pulled back.
"For now," he teased, as he grabbed his suit coat off the bed and headed into the living room. "I'm coming," he called out to the insistent knocking as he shrugged into the coat. Shaking his head and muttering under his breathe, he opened the door and stared at the man on the other side in surprise: "Detective?" he said in recognition of the man who was handling Claire's case in Inverness on his doorstep.
"Mr. Randall…"
"What… what can I do for you?"
"It's what I can do for you, sir. It's about your wife's case. Perhaps you should let me in so you can sit down."
"No. You can tell me right here."
The detective looked at him and shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot as he turned the hat in his hands round and round by the brim. "Your wife showed up in Inverness last night…"
"She… Claire… Claire's alive and in Inverness?" Frank somehow managed to get out pass the lump in his throat.
"Yes sir."
"Was she… was she with the man I saw?" he wondered, grasping at straws that would allow him to keep the life he had formed for himself.
"No sir, but…"
"Where is she now?"
"She's being treated in the hospital in Inverness, but you should know…"
"Know what? That my wife is alive and she didn't run off on me like I told you all along, but you couldn't be bother to believe me so you wasted time chasing down a ghost that didn't even exist?" he asked angrily, as his hands balled at his sides, because surely there had to be a logically explaination to where she had been rather than what he was told.
"Sir."
"No. Thank you for telling me. I'll make arrangements to go and see her myself. You've given me the news. Your services, such as they are, are no longer need."
"Mr. Randall, you should know…" he protested as Frank shut the door on him and turned to see Victoria standing in the doorway to the bedroom, the frame of it holding her up as unshed tears shown in her eyes. Frank looked up and saw her there and cursed. "How much did you hear?"
"Enough," she replied shakily as she pushed away from the support and put as much strength into her spine as she could manage. Inhaling, she took a step towards him: "It's not like we didn't know this was a possibility. I'm happy for you, Frank. Honestly I am."
"Victoria, this doesn't mean anything. Things between us don't have to change…"
"Of course they do. Your wife is back Frank. You said so yourself…"
"What the hell else was I supposed to call her!?" he demanded as he stepped towards her. "In nine years I don't think we spent more than six months together!"
"It doesn't change that she's your wife and she's back," she replied stiffly as she started to grab up her purse and coat from the couch.
"She left me. For three and a half years she has been gone without a word!"
"But she didn't run off with the man you saw."
Frank looked down at the floor and then back up at her: "I was waiting to the end of this year… I was going to ask you to come to Harvard with me. Start over with me there as my wife…"
Victoria gasped and shook her head as she put a hand over her mouth and let the tears start to fall: "and I would've said yes. But it's not the end of the year, Frank, and you already have a wife. Start over in Boston with her," she said as she moved to him and placed a hand on his arm and kissed his cheek. "I did love you, Franklin Woverlton Randall," she said softly as she rested her forehead against the side of his for a moment as his hand came up to trap the one on his. Carefully she extracted it and pulled away, trying to ignore how he deflated as she walked out of his apartment and out of his personal life…
Victoria Hunter is an author created character. I pictured her played by Kelly Sullivan
Pictures and other multi-media can be found on the story's pintrest board it can be found with my others by searching for MissDevon Fanfiction
Song Credit: "Not From Here" Lara Fabian
Gaelic and Scott from: . and wiki/Gaelic