It involved keeping her head down. That was one of the main things that Elsie learned, when she was trying to work out a plan of escape. She couldn't draw too much attention to herself, and she shouldn't fight the norm too much. That was the only reason that she was allowing Mrs Fitz to help her bathe and dress. She hadn't had anyone do this for her since she was around eight years old. Certainly by the time she moved to Scotland to live with Granny she was already old enough that she could do these things for herself.

And another thing; there was no running water, hot or cold. So making do with a basin of water that was lukewarm at best – and Elsie would argue that it was actually much closer to stone cold – was about as close as she was getting to a hot shower.

She did her best not to fight it. Apparently it was completely normal here. Maybe because they didn't have showers so you needed someone else to dump the vat of water over your head, maybe because they were staying in the castle with the Laird, Elsie didn't know. All she knew was that being naked in front of another person was something that she considered to be a very intimate thing, and Mrs Fitz was certainly not a person she wanted to be naked in front of.

She seemed to be obsessed with the fact that Elsie's skin was so smooth. A lack of scarring, or blemishes. Sure she did have some wonderful creamy skin, but she really didn't think that it was that strange. She still had freckles, and moles, and other lumps and bumps that humans had. She would prefer if Mrs Fitz just didn't look at her skin all that closely if she was being honest.

Still, she was quite grateful for someone to help her with the putting on of her clothes. It was almost impossible to lace up a corset by yourself. And Elsie had never exactly been one to want to wear a corset back in the days before she travelled here, honestly she didn't know anybody who wore real corsets back before she was here. It was more of a lingerie thing really. Not something that Elsie had ever dabbled in.

Mostly she just went about her business, trying to work out what was happening and what exactly a 'gathering' was.

It seemed to her, like some big extended family reunion. Only it wasn't just one family, it was all the families who lived on the Mackenzie's land. And they were all going to be coming here, and that was –according to Mrs Fitz – going to mean a lot of work for Elsie. She was their 'physic' so she was going to have to deal with any ailments, be that from drunken brawls to children who had eaten too many sweeties. There were going to be eyes on her and she was going to have to do well. Because if she did well then she might somehow manage to get in favour with 'Himself'.

Elsie wanted to tell Himself where he could shove his favour, but she didn't. She just went about her business, building up her herbs and spices, reading through old medical journals. It was so strange reading through this approach to medicine, which was positively medieval. Dung and bugs and potions and leaches. Things that wouldn't even cross Elsie's mind in ordinary circumstances were things that she had to work with. She had to apply her own modern knowledge to the time period and attempt not to stick out like a sore thumb or get accused of being a witch or a demon or some other kind of folk lore superstition.

She still hated the dungeons that she had been assigned to with a passion. But it wasn't so bad once she managed to get rid of some of the most ridiculous pieces of Deacon's collection. She could do a little something to help people, heal them. Save them from going to see a witchdoctor or whatever else they were called back in the 1700s. The two 'guards' that Dougal had assigned to watch Elsie started slacking off from their duties, leaving her to get on with it, something that she was not going to complain about.

When she had to go searching for them in the kitchen, where they hid themselves away drinking, when Elsie found out about the death of a child, and that superstition was indeed a deadly thing in this time.

Mrs Fitz had sent Colum's chambermaid, Shona, home for the day, worried about her, the woman's nerves were shot, unable to go on about work, her unsteady hands dropping the dish that she was drying.

Elsie found out that it was her son, Lyndsay who had passed away the night before.

A young boy had died after going on an adventure with his friends, off to see some ruins that were known to all who was born and raised in the surrounding area. Mrs Fitz had called it the Black Kirk. They seemed to believe that spirits roamed the ruins, and would sneak into the bodies of the children who visited there, possessing them and ultimately causing an untimely death.

Of course Elsie didn't believe a word of it. She was far too logical to believe in spirits and demons and witch craft. She had seen far too much in her short life, and found it quite hard to refrain from rolling her eyes and actively scoffing at the superstition in the room. The fact that everyone kept blessing themselves with the sign of the cross just made it seem more comical to her. Only the solemn fact that a child had indeed died kept Elsie from voicing her opinions.

It did, however, make her curious to see this so called Black Kirk.

But before she could even make a plan to get out to see these ruins and if there was something there that would make these rumours of 'spirits' understandable she was called away by Mrs Fitz nephew, Tom Baxter, to see the Laird.

Elsie knew that there was nothing which she could do to help Colum, his ailment was incurable, a disease that he was born with and one that he would inevitably die from. She was already surprise that he had lived to such an age and still had the use of his legs. Most men and women in his situation would have been long since bedridden.

She arrived to the Laird having a conversation with the tailor, not something that Elsie particularly cared to listen to. She was busy watching the mannerisms of the tailor, idly wondering if they man was just camp or if he was gay and hiding it with the wedding band on his finger. She supposed that it must be hard in this time, to be gay, or even curious. There was no such thing as the LGBT+ community in 1700's Scotland. From what she had seen so far and what she had gathered from her ex boyfriend's research, it was all a bit of a joke.

Knowing that she now lived amongst this attitude had bile rising in the back of her throat.

Elsie was brought back to the present by a thick tension in the room, Colum was accusing the tailor of mocking him, something to do with his frock coat being longer than the average frock coat. Elsie didn't really know what the average length of such things were, but she could clearly tell that this was something which had gravely offended Colum.

Enough so that he had drawn a dagger. Elsie's heart was pounding in her chest. Such casual threats of deathly violence. How could this be normal? How could this be something that just happened? If this had been back home, home in her own time, she would have been on her phone to 999 emergency services within a split second. She would probably have to make a long statement to the police, be a witness in a court case. It all would be very formal and very dramatic. Instead this was just normal. No one would reprimand Colum for this. No one would think it odd or ill that he had drawn a dagger against a man for an infraction of thinking that the Laird may wish to hide his sickly legs.

Elsie waned to say something, say anything, but want for her own freedom was stronger. She needed to have the Laird on her side if she ever wanted out of this place, and she so badly wanted out of this place. Sadly, sometimes self-preservation was stronger than her want to be a good person.

Thankfully no deathly urges came across Colum, merely threats. The tailor scuttled out of the room, the offending coat bundled up in his arms, muttering thanks for the opportunity to make a new, shorter, frockcoat by the next day.

The whole situation left a bad taste in Elsie's mouth but she didn't mention it, instead asking of her a massage. It wasn't something which Elsie had much experience of. She had never massaged anyone in her life. She had massaged the belly of a pregnant cow, though she imagined that it was not the belly which the Laird wished to have soothed. Instead she was working on the base of his spine, hoping to give the man some relief from what must have been at best constant discomfort, at worst agonising pain.

While she massaged him they managed to get onto the topic of the dead boy.

"It's the devils work. Foolish boy, he went after the Black Kirk." Colum told her, leaning back into her massage as he crossed himself. "Sometimes I wonder what I did, to make the devil punish me like this."

Elsie frowned, it was sad that the Laird before her thought that this affliction was something that he had brought on himself, that a disease that he was born with that he could do nothing about. She pitied him.

"What? You don't have demons where you're from Miss Duncan?" He rebuked, wincing in pain as she touched a nerve in her massaging.

Elsie smiled tightly and chewed over her words carefully before replying. "I suppose we do, though the demons which I'm more accustomed to seeing are foxes who steal chickens from farmers, and plights of bugs which ruin perfectly good crops. Never those which kill little boys." Or take the use of a man's legs, though she did not dare say that out loud. The man made a noise when Elsie kept on with her massaging. "I'm sorry is that hurting you?"

The Laird shook his head. "No lass, to the contrary you are easing the pain."

She wished that her cheeks didn't glow with a little pride at that. She liked being able to help people, she liked knowing that she had done something which made someone feel better, or at least less awful.

Colum continued on to ask her to join him as his guest in the great hall that evening, advising that there would be music, a singer famous in those parts.

It was more of a summons than a request, but Elsie thanked him nonetheless.

This was a good thing for her, she considered, this could mean that she was in favour, or at least getting towards being in favour, with the Laird. He wanted her to join him in an evening of festivities. Perhaps regularly massaging the base of his spine would be beneficial to them both. She could deal with seeing his bony arse a few times a week if it bought her her ticket back to Inverness and potentially back to her own time.

She knew that there wasn't anything waiting for her back there, but it was still what she longed for. The familiar, a hot shower, wearing jeans, or a sundress. Being able to get on a bus and be at the beach, forty miles away, in under an hour. She missed the internet, and memes and she missed having other people's knowledge to defer to at her fingertips. She missed being able to read the comment sections on the Daily Mail and get angry that she lived in a country with so many idiots. She also missed reading some of the insightful and wonderful comments that other people in her country had to make.

She just missed her community, one that didn't think less of her because she was a woman. Or because her accent didn't sound like it was from the Scottish Highlands.

Still, getting back there was dependant on being in good favour here. So she made herself pretty and went to the singing. She had on a pretty dress that Mrs Fitz helped her into, and she took her hair down out of their French braids, allowing the waves to fall down around her face and shoulders, only pushing some of back with pins. She pinched her cheeks in the way that granny said women did before rouge was widely available.

The hall was filled with people, the bustle and warmth was a nice change to the dank and bleak dungeon that she spent so much of her time in.

Elsie was people watching, it was a game that she and Graeme used to play whenever they were in a bus restaurant or a large party. You picked a group of people, or a couple, or generally anyone in the room and you made up a back story for them, deciding on what was being said between them in that moment.

She was in the middle of assigning a confrontation about an affair to what appeared to be a bickering couple when Dougal came up by her side, causing her to jump slightly. She tried to keep the frown off her face, and a bit of distance between them, but the older man was right in at her side whispering into her ear about how Colum looked on good form that evening, thanking her for her help in that.

Elsie kept trying to edge away from him. She couldn't help but wonder how he could be thanking her for helping his brother while also coming across as a lecherous creep. Oh yes, she knew men like Dougal Mackenzie, and didn't hold much stock in them either. She was just here to listen to the music, not to have him push her hair out of her face. That made her wish that she had left it all up in her braids.

She was saved by the artist entering the room, allowing her to make her excuses to get closer and see the music. She had a glass of wine, or mead, or whatever they wished to call it, but it made her belly warm and her anxiety lower, and she sat down on a bench to watch the music. A young blonde girl sat down beside her, the one that she recognised from the great hall, who Jamie had taken a beating for. She looked at the girl with interest.

"I don't think we've ever been formally introduced," She began, giving the younger girl a smile. "I'm Elsie Duncan."

The girl nodded, her long blonde curls bouncing slightly as she did. "Laoghaire Mackenzie," She introduced herself, clearly distracted. Elsie let her eyes follow to where the younger girls were clearly preoccupied, catching sight of Jamie. The blonde was quite clearly taken with him, something that Elsie could understand. Tall, redheaded, muscular, and rather charming, that and he had taken a beating and public humiliation for the girl. It was certainly enough to warrant a crush.

"He's not bad to look at, Jamie, is he?" She commented, taking a sip of her drink.

"Aye," Laoghaire replied, still watching him from afar. "But it's no me he fancies." She said bluntly.

This took Elsie's interest. She made eye contact with Jamie across the room and gave him a smile and a wave, all but gesturing for him to come over and join them.

"I wouldn't know about that," She said to the younger girl. "But I'll tell you that men rarely know what they actually want, I wouldn't give up hope just yet."

Jamie arrived at their bench and greeted the two women, sitting down between the two girls.

Elsie flashed the redhead a bright smile. "I was just telling Laoghaire here how beautiful she looks tonight, wouldn't you agree?"

Jamie didn't even give the girl a second glance. "Aye, she's bonnie."

They were saved from any further awkward small talk by the start of the music. Elsie had never heard such beautiful and majestic live music. The harp combined with the man singing, it was almost hypnotic. He was singing in Gaelic, which caused Elsie to struggle to follow the story, though she wished that she could.

She leaned across to ask her two companions. "Has the musician been at the castle long?"

Laoghaire looked as though she were going to answer, but Jamie leaned in closer to her first.

"Aye, a good many years. I spent a year here when I was around sixteen and he was still here then. Colum pays him well, so he does. He would have to, for the man would be welcome at any Lairds heart."

Elsie nodded her head and went back to watching the music. The blonde girl interjected.

"I remember when you were here before." She told him with a tilt of the head.

When Jamie didn't reply Elsie asked, "Do you?" Having a sip of her drink and encouraging the younger girl.

Jamie looked somewhat uncomfortable. "You couldn't have been much more than seven or eight yourself." He commented, making the blonde girl smile and look down.

Jamie leaned across and said to Elsie conspiratorially. "I doubt I was much to see then, so as to be remembered."

"But I do remember though," Laoghaire said, boldly. "You were so… I mean, do you not remember me from then?"

"No," Jamie said, though not harshly, Elsie felt herself cringe for the girl. It was clearly not the answer she was wanting. "No I don't think so."

Laoghaire's face had fallen. "Still, I wouldnae be likely to." He commented, more to Elsie than the Laoghaire. "A young bucky of sixteen is too taken up with his own grand self to pay much heed to what he thinks of as a rabble of snot nosed bairns."

Elsie elbowed him in the side at that. He was clearly so oblivious to the fact that the blonde was trying to flirt with him, or at least get some kind of attention. He looked at her, and she raised her eyebrows and shook her head slightly, before looking back to the performer.

Laoghaire looked as though she may cry at any moment.

They watched the music for a few more minutes, before Jamie commented on the glass of wine in her hand.

"It's really good," Elsie nodded her head, taking another sip. "This is my second – no, third, glass!"

Jamie took the glass out of her hand, taking a drink of it himself, not offering it back to her. "Most folks who drink it with Colum are under the table by the second glass."

Well that explained why her head was foggy. "Are you implying that I am drunk?" She asked him, a little smirk on her face, and perhaps a little flirtatiously.

"I'd be impressed if you weren't." He replied, keeping a hold of the wine glass. The song came to an end and they applauded. It really was amazing that no matter the time period you were in good music would always be there.

"This dressing has been chafing at me for days," Jamie leaned close and said to her. "Would you mind taking a look at it for me?"

Elsie gave him a confused look. "What, now?"

Jamie nodded. "Aye,"

She couldn't think of a reason to say no. "Yeah, ok."

Jamie finished her glass of wine, then handed it to the young blonde who had been sitting with them. "Take that back with you, lass." He told her, before nodding at Elsie and leading her out of the room.

They walked down to the dungeon in relative silence, Elsie only stumbling a little while they went. When they arrived Elsie turned and smiled at him. "Alright, let's have a look at your shoulder then." She hopped up to sit on her medicine table, her let's swinging slightly as she dangled them.

"Ah, I don't need your help," He told her, with a rue smile. "I just thought that I should see you back to the surgery while you can still stand upright."

Elsie's jaw dropped slightly affronted. "Cheeky," She told him, running a hand back through her wavy dark hair. "Though I suppose I may have gone a bit overboard. You know I was one of the best drinkers in my halls back in the day." She told him, not thinking that he wouldn't understand a word of it.

"Pardon, mistress?" He asked, but Elsie just shook her head.

"Never mind. Thank you for bringing me back here, I should have known that you were fine. If it had really been uncomfortable you'd just have ripped off the bandages yourself." She accused.

Jamie looked mock affronted. "I was afraid to. I thought I would get my arse scelpted for touching it."

Elsie grinned a little at that, as though she had that power. "Too right," She told him, "I'm the 'Healer' after all. I'm in charge here." She giggled that last part.

Jamie was not managing to keep a straight face at her, so he just nodded. "Aye, you are."

Elsie rubbed her face. "But in all seriousness, if you were uncomfortable you should have told me, I could have taken it off for you when I visited you at the stables."

Jamie shook his head and it prompted Elsie to remember the scars on his back.

"You don't want Alec to see that you've been flogged." She realised, some of the drunkenness leaving her as she thought about it.

Jamie nodded his head, coming to sit by her on her bench. His legs did not dangle the way hers did.

"Aye, he knows I was flogged, but he has not seen it. Seeing it is different."

Elsie nodded her head.

"It's a bit… personal, maybe. I think if Alec were to see the scars, he wouldn't see me any more without seeing my back." Jamie contemplated.

That seemed sad to her. Elsie reached across and gave his knee a comforting squeeze. "Yet you don't mind me seeing your back?"

Jamie shook his head. "You have a knack for letting me know that you feel sorry for it, but not making me feel pitiful about it at the same time."

Elsie gave him a sad little smile. "I'm glad."

It was Jamie's turn to nod. "I should go." He stood up.

"Not so fast," Elsie grabbed the sleeve of his jacket. "Let me take a look at your shoulder before you go." She stood up and started playing with his jacket and shirt, undressing him slightly so that she could have a look at the wound on his shoulder. He allowed her to do it. "It's looking good." She told him, mildly. "It's all scabbed over, there doesn't appear to be any drainage. I'll be able to take those bandages off in a few days." She was still leaning up close with him as she explained.

"As you say," He agreed with her, an amused look on his face.

"Goodnight, Mr MacTavish." Elsie said, not taking a step back. She didn't know what was coming over her, was it the alcohol, was it the dark room, or was it his proximity? She didn't know what it was, but she wanted to kiss him.

"Goodnight, Miss Duncan." Jamie was the one to step away first.

It was definitely for the best, because had he kissed her, there in that moment, Elsie definitely would not have stopped him. She had wanted him to.

He left the dungeons, and then she was alone, her heart all aflutter in a way that it hadn't been in a long time.

A/N hello, it has been a very long time, I know. I don't come with any excuses, only that I've had a broken laptop and a fulltime miserable job, as well as moving cities (only to be deciding to move back to that city now so I can go back to uni to sit my masters year!). I hope that this chapter was worth the wait, to me it feels a little like filler, and sticks a little too close to the televison show. But we do have some Jamie Elsie action? So please do leave a review and let me know what you think!