Chapter 3

Murtaugh couldn't help but think that knowing something and seeing it were two completely different things as he stood in the doorway of Claire's hospital room. It had taken the good graces of Mrs. Graham to get him here as the good Reverend couldn't see his way to allowing him to be with Claire, and now he knew why. The doppelganger of Black Jack Randell was with her, and clearly was not pleased to have their reunion interrupted. Quite frankly, he could care less, especially as it seemed that Claire wasn't comfortable with his being near her. He wondered if it was because it was unannounced or of the fact that he looked like his ancestor, as his charge rushed pass his side and to her mother all the while he held the man's stare. Wasn't one to stand down easily, he noted unimpressed as Claire caught his eye: "yes, I suppose explanations do need to be made," she said causing Murtaugh to take a step forward and close the door.

Frank Randall frowned as he turned towards his wife, noticing the toddler for the first time: "wha… what in bloody hell?"

Faith cocked her head to the side and looked up and him, narrowed her eyes and huffed, before turning her attention back to the doll she was playing with at her mother's side. Claire swallowed: "Frank, this is Faith- my daughter."

"Your… daughter?" he asked looking from the child to his wife, trying to put the pieces together. For a moment he had a slight shred of hope that maybe something could be recovered from their- situation- a child could mean many things for them…

"She's three and a half, Frank," Claire said in clarification at his look, dropping her eyes to her daughter's head. Catching on that they were talking about her, Faith looked up, and smiled at the man she didn't know: "I this many," she said holding up three tiny fingers.

"I see," Frank said stepping back as if he had been slapped. "And her father?" he asked, shooting an accusatory look at Murtaugh, who only answered with a gruff: "dead," before turning his attention to Claire.

"They said the lass slept through the night and ate all her breakfast," Murtaugh told her as he kept his distance from Frank and rounded the bed, approaching her from the other side. "She was all smiles when I went to get her."

"I'm sure she was," Claire said in a monotone as she watched her. "What happened to Jenny?" she wondered as she noted that Faith wasn't playing with the doll that they had brought with them- the one named after the aunt who had lovingly made it for her.

"Mrs. Graham is giving her a cleaning. Lent Faith this one of her granddaughter's to play with."

"Oh."

"Excuse me my ignorance, but just who are you?" Frank demanded of Murtaugh.

"Murtaugh Fraser."

"Yes, because that explains a lot."

"Murtaugh is the one who found me at Craigh Nu Dunn four years ago when I was being attacked. He took me to safety and took me in and under his wing. He has been keeping me safe ever since," Claire explained.

"Yet he couldn't contact the police or me. Wouldn't allow you to either, is that it?" Frank half demanded and half accused.

"I had amnesia from the attack, Frank. I didn't remember you. We traveled for his work so I didn't know you were looking."

"And now you sudden remember," he retorted, his anger starting to slip through.

"They believe it was the trauma of losing Jamie," Claire answered refusing to look at him.

"Jamie?"

"He was Faith's father and- well, my husband…"

"How the hell can he be you husband when I am?" Frank demanded as he slammed his hand down on an end table.

Faith looked up at him and crossed her tiny arms over her chest. She pushed herself to her feet and balanced awkwardly as she challenged him: "Stop saying bad words and being mean!" Murtaugh bit his lip as he tried not to laugh and scoped the little girl up: "Bi samhach a Nighean," he started as he put her on the floor and swatted her lightly on her but before reaching over and taking her doll from Claire. "Go play with your dolly in the corner."

Faith looked around the room, her lip protruding slightly and quivering as she had no idea what was going on around her. Everything was odd. She hadn't even gotten her goodnight kiss and story from Da and while Unkie and Mommy where here he wasn't. He was always with Mommy and Unkie and Fergus and Ougal were gone too… everybody she knew was gone. Shaking her head she threw down the doll and stomped her foot. "Want Da! Want Da NOW!" she cried as Claire buried her head in her hands with a muffled "Oh God."

Murtaugh bent down to her level with a simple "Seas," as he picked her up into his arms and carried her over to a nearby chair: "Da is with the angels now, Lass, but your Mam and I are here and we won't let anything or anyone hurt you or take you away from us. "Much, mo naoidheachan, much," he continued to soothe her as he rock her gently from side to side.

"I can't. I just can't," Claire muttered as she looked up, her expression showing how shattered and defeated she was. "There's no way around it, Frank. Yes, we were married. I loved you. But what Jamie and I had… he was… was my heart and soul. He gave me Faith- and the baby I carry. Can you live with that?"