Hey all. So I know it's been awhile, but I'm hoping that the absurd length of this update will make that up to you all. Fair warning, I go very far off the reservation in this one and very much into my own imaginings. More to come later! R/R always appreciated.
November 1948
"Push, Claire, you have to push now!"
Claire could hear the doctor yelling at her to push, but the world felt like it was swirling around her. She could barely make out the doctor's face and despite the air and gas they'd forced her to use she could still feel everything. It felt like she was on fire. She could feel the pressure and knew she had to push, but she didn't have the energy. She didn't have the will. Jamie was gone. Frank had made her promise to forget about him, but how could she do that? She could no sooner put out the sun. For that was what he was to her. Her sun. The light that kept her warm; that set her on fire. Her light that scared the darkness away.
Suddenly she could see a face in front of her. It was a warm face. It had blue eyes like him. Claire felt like she was going under water.
The face yelled at her, "Don't you dare, Claire! Don't you dare die on me!"
The face's voice was female. Claire wondered why the face cared if she lived or died. She dropped her and it fell to the side. She took a breath. There was a man in the corner of the room. She took another slow breath. She couldn't see him clearly, he was all blurry. He reached for her. The man looked dirty, but there was a glorious frame of Brilliant red around his face.
"Jamie," Claire breathed out in barely a whisper. She reached for him.
"Ye can't give up, Mo Nighean Donn. Fight. For me. For our bairn. Don't give up."
"Jamie," She whispered again. The man started to fade away and she reached harder for him.
"Jamie!" She screamed and pushed with all her might.
The doctor was startled, but started rattling off his usual phrases of encouragement. He'd never seen anything like that. She was on the verge of death. He was getting ready to yell for an OR to do an emergency C-seciton, but she was fine now. He wasn't about to ask who this Jamie was.
The nurse who had been standing over Claire cocked her head and smiled. She had been doing this for years and seen all sorts of different labors. Every single mother had that one thing that they would do anything for. For most of them it was to get the pain to stop, for others it was food, for Claire it seemed to be this Jamie. Funny, the nurse could have sworn her husband's name was Frank, but that was not for her to say. She grabbed Claire's hand and went back to coaching her through her contractions.
Claire felt someone grabbed her hand and looked up hoping to see Jamie. It wasn't. It was the face from before, but now Claire understood that the face was her nurse.
"Welcome back, Claire. Now hows about we get you through this so you can meet your little one?" The nurse said.
Claire nodded and squeezed her hand.
The hours went by like molasses in the winter. The pain never let up. But still she kept pushing because she knew that was what Jamie would want her to do. Because if she gave up, not only would she die, but so would their child and she refused to let that happen again. So she kept pushing and breathing, pushing and breathing, until she heard the doctor say, "There's the head, Claire, just a couple more!"
Claire felt the tears start down her cheeks. She pushed as hard as she could. She put all of her pain and frustration and fear into the next three pushes. Then a baby's cry broke the silence of the delivery room and Claire's tears started flowing freely.
"It's a girl," the doctor said, "a beautiful girl with a head full of red fuzz."
The nurse handed the baby to Claire and Claire sobbed as she held the proof of her and Jamie's love. This precious child. This gift that she had been given. She sobbed for joy and for sadness. For the loss of a husband and a father. For all the things Jamie would not be there for. As she was sobbing she felt something move inside of her and looked at the doctor.
He had his head between her legs and for a moment Claire thought she should be embarrassed, then she scoffed at herself. After all, that's where he'd been for the past five hours.
"Doctor, is everything alright?" she asked. Then she felt it; another contraction. They shouldn't hurt that much anymore, right? She made eye contact with the doctor. His eyes were worried.
"Claire, I need you to not push. No matter how much you want to."
Claire nodded. "What's wrong?"
"Nurse, take the baby from Mrs. Randall and call in another nurse to get her washed up and sent to the nursery please. Then I need you to help me get Mrs. Randall to the OR," he looked back at Claire, "Claire, you are carrying another baby. That baby's cord has prolapsed, meaning tha-"
"I know what it means, doctor, I'm a nurse at this hospital." Claire may have known what it meant, but her mind was struggling to comprehend that she had been carrying twins completely unaware and now she may lose a second child.
"Then you know, that if you push, the baby's head will compress the cord and cut off its oxygen supply."
Claire nodded.
Three more nurses came in and took her baby girl from her. Her arms felt empty. As they were wheeling her out the door, one of them asked Claire what she had named the baby.
"Brianna. Brianna Ellen."
That was the last thing that she remembered. The rest was flashes. Pain as she screamed through a contraction that she couldn't push with. The mask coming down over her face. 100. White walls. 99. Faces all around her. 98. A scalpel. 97. Darkness.
Claire opened her eyes slowly. It was hard, the drugs must still be wearing off. She was in a hospital room. The plain walls gave it away. There was a weight on her bed. She turned her head and looked down.
Frank.
He had fallen asleep. It wasn't the face she wanted to see. She didn't want to admit it, but sometimes when she looked at him, she could still see Black Jack. She knew it wasn't him; that they were completely different people. Sometimes though, she saw flashes of Black Jack in Frank and it terrified her. She lifted her hand and rested it on his head. Still, he was her first love and deserved her loyalty.
Frank jerked awake.
"Claire!" He exclaimed as he grabbed her hand and kissed it. "I thought I was going to lose you."
"The babies?" She asked.
"You hemorrhaged while you were on the table. You lost so much blood."
"Frank, the babies?" she asked again.
"You were so pale when they brought you back here. Claire, I couldn't bear to lose you again."
"Frank! Are my babies ok?" She said as loudly as she could. She was exhausted. She moved her hand out of his grip.
Frank looked startled. "They're fine. Both of them. Healthy." Almost as an afterthought, he added "It was a boy. The second one. A girl and a boy."
Claire choked on a quiet sob, "A boy?"
Frank looked at her with sad eyes. "A boy. With red hair, just like his sister."
"Did you name him?" she asked quietly.
"No. I thought that would be best left to you."
"Thank you, Frank." She thought for a moment, "Alexander Franklin Randall. If you're ok with that, Frank." She looked up at him pleading with her eyes.
Frank looked down. "A strong name," he said before standing up. "I'll go see if the nurses will bring them in for you to see."
He walked across the room, but then stopped at the door. Without turning around he said quietly, "Thank you, Claire." With that he left.
Claire breathed a sigh of relief and then smiled as she felt the tears begin again. Two. Two little pieces of Jamie to love and cherish.
March 1955
They were in the hospital. They shouldn't have been. If only Claire hadn't been late her baby girl wouldn't be here. That stupid baby sitter, what was she thinking leaving the children alone for any amount of time. She knew them! She knew how rambunctious Brianna and Alex could be. They were in the road!
"I'm quitting school. Pulling myself out of the program. It's the only answer," Claire said, "I'll watch over the children while you're at work."
"No, Claire, don't. You can't quit the program it's your dream," Frank said.
"She was hit by a car, Frank!"
"It was barely moving. She only has a minor concussion."
"A concussion that I could have prevented!" Claire exclaimed, both of them completely oblivious to Alex.
Alex squirmed on the cot. He didn't like it when his parents fought. It seemed to be happening more lately. He looked down at his feet. His mom was blaming herself, but Alex knew he was really to blame. He was there, he should have stopped her, told her it was silly to go look for mom; that she'd be home soon. But he had been worried too, so instead, he'd followed her. Neither of them had seen the car and now they were here and the doctors were doing tests on his sister.
He sniffled.
Claire looked over at Alex. "Baby? What's wrong?"
"I'm sorry momma, I should've stopped her and now Bree is hurt and it's all my fault." Alex started crying. He hated crying. Bree always made fun of him.
Claire took him into her arms, mortified at herself for not seeing this earlier. "No baby, no. It's not your fault at all. We all know that once Brianna sets her mind on something, she's going to do it no matter what. It's no one's fault."
"Including you, Claire." Frank said. "You can't blame yourself."
Claire sighed and nodded. She knew he was right. She had just been so terrified.
Alex sat up on her lap and got off. Sitting, Claire was face to face with her son. He was growing so fast.
He wiped the tears off of his face with the back of his sleeve and looked at his mother.
Claire gasped. His eyes, blue like his father, were full of an emotion that she had seen so many times on Jamie's face. Steel resolve. In that moment she was sure she knew what a young Jamie had looked like.
"Mom," Alex said, "I promise I will never let anything hurt Brianna ever again. I will keep her safe no matter what." He clenched his little fists at his side and stared her straight in the eye.
Claire nodded, "I believe you, Alexander. I promise that I will always be there to protect BOTH of you."
Alex hugged his mom and she hugged him back. They stayed like that for a few minutes. In that moment, Frank felt like an intruder.
May 1960
It was her graduation and she felt like she was soaring. Their house was abuzz with life. Bree was running around taking pictures of everyone and everything. Alex was following her trying to be in as many pictures as he could without her noticing. It was infuriating the little red head.
Frank was actually being pleasant top her. It was nice. They'd been fighting a lot recently.
"Mom!" Bree called her, "Come here, I want a picture of you!"
Alex crawled up behind Claire and squatted, hoping his sister didn't see him.
"Alex I see you. Get out of there I just want Mom and Dad in the picture. Daddy, move closer to mom."
Frank awkwardly did as she instructed. She had him wrapped around her little finger.
The camera clicked. The doorbell rang. All hell broke loose.
He had asked a woman to pick him up at their house, on her graduation day! How dare he!
As she yelled at him, Frank calmly told Bree and Alex to go to their rooms. As they were climbing the stairs, Alex stopped half way up to listen.
"Alex, come on! You're gonna get in trouble." Bree said.
"No, I want to hear what's going on."
"Nothing good," Bree responded as she ran the rest of the way up the stairs leaving her brother. Whatever it was, Bree didn't want to know. She was better off not knowing.
Alex sat quietly and listened as his mother accused his father of inviting a whore to her party. She yelled as loudly as she could while still whispering.
His dad just looked sad. "Claire, our relationship was over a long time ago. You know that. She makes me happy."
"And what about the twins?" His mother asked, "How do you think this will make them feel. They love you!"
His dad sighed, "I will always be there for Bree. She's my princess. As for Alex, he'll be fine. He and I were never that close. How could I be close to him when I know how much he looks like Jamie? Yes, I know. Your face gives it away every time you look at him. I've done my best, but you can only ask so much of me. I will continue to be their father until their 18th birthday as we agreed upon, but I refuse to spend that time without love and if I can't get it from you I will find it somewhere else."
With that the man that he had thought was his father, walked out of the house and shut the door quietly. His mother stood there in shock before quietly asking the guests to leave.
Alex sat on the stairs for a couple of hours, not knowing what to do. Should he tell Bree? Should he just go to his room and forget he ever heard that conversation? Should he go talk to his mom?
He finally decided on talking to his mom because if Frank Randall wasn't his father he wanted to know who was. So he got up and began searching.
It was a relatively short search, she was only in his Da- Frank's office. She was sitting in his chair, facing the wall, holding a glass in her hand. Alex looked over to where the man whom he'd thought was his dad kept his liquor decanters. One was open and had a lot less in it than he remembered. His mother was mumbling to herself. Alex decided to move closer to hear.
"S'all falling apart, Jamie. Everything. I tried. I did what you told me to. I left. I went back through the stones. I tried to let Frank love me and I tried to love him. But is so hard." Her words were slurred and didn't make much sense. How do you go through stones, let alone come back through them?
"He stopped lovin' me, but he still loves Brianna. His princess he calls her. That ass. Promised he'd love 'em both, but can't bring himself to feel the same for Alex. Oh Alex. How I wish you could see him, Jamie. He's so smart and kind and ridiculous and, Frank's right, he looks just like you do. Same eyes, same hair. Sometimes I wonder if any of me is in him, then he fights with his sister and I see it. Why'd he have to get my temper? Both of 'em have it. Stupid.
She put the glass up to her forehead and moaned. Alex knew now was not the time to talk to his mother. So he quietly backed out of the room and climbed the stairs to his room thinking about a man with red hair like his and blue eyes like his named Jamie. One day, he'd find him, he thought as he fell asleep. One day he would meet his father and ask him why he had made his mother leave him.
April 1966
"You most certainly are not!" Claire exclaimed.
"What are you thinking, Alex!" Brianna shouted at him.
Alex sighed. He should have known they would react like this. Especially Bree. She was still raw from their Dad's death last year. It had hit her hard. Harder than him. But she was always a daddy's girl, while he had always felt the wall that Frank had put up between them.
Alex sighed, "Yes I am and I'm thinking about doing my duty to my country, Bree. We all know it's only a matter of time before they start drafting people. Isn't better to beat them to it and get in now while the fighting still isn't that bad?"
"You have no idea what war is, Alex, and I will not let you go. I will not let you do it," Claire said, her eyes panicked.
"I'm eighteen, Mom. I don't need your permission anymore," Alex grimaced as he said that knowing it would hurt her. But he needed to go. He needed to know what he was made of. He's opened the newspaper this morning and had seen pictures of Vietnamese children, dead, and had felt this insane urge to protect them. They weren't form his country, but that didn't matter. They were children and he had the power to protect them. He had a duty to try.
Claire sucked in her breath before she plopped down into one of the kitchen chairs next to her. She rested her head in her hand. Why did he have to be so much like his father?
"Please, Alex," Bree whispered with tears in her eyes, "I can't lose you too."
Alex pulled her into his arms and comforted her.
"Don't worry, you won't lose me," he pushed her back, "but how will I be able to face myself in the mirror every morning if I can do something about what's going on over there, but don't."
Claire closed her eyes. There it was. She shook her head. Just like his father. She could still remember Jamie telling her much of the same thing when she asked him to run away with her instead of going to the battlefield. It was time to let her baby go. To let him grow up into a man.
She sighed. "Can I drive you to the recruitment office?"
March 1968
"Mom, I'm home!" Bree yelled out as she came through the door. Claire smiled. She had taken a short vacation from work, just a weekend, to spend some extra time with Brianna.
"How was class, love?" She asked her daughter.
"Meh. It was class," she kissed Claire's cheek and headed for the stairs, "I'm gonna go write Alex a letter real quick. Call me when dinners ready!"
Claire chuckled. Always moving, that girl.
About twenty minutes later Claire called Bree down for dinner. They talked about Alex's last letter, pondered what Vietnam was like, and talked about Bree's classes and Claire's work. As they were cleaning up after dessert the doorbell rang.
"I'll get it!" Bree said as she put down her drying rag. Claire smiled and watched her go.
Bree opened the door with a smile on her face, but that smile was wiped away with a look of confusion as she opened the door.
In front of her was a man. A Marine, in uniform. Bree looked at him and then to the car parked on the curb, a sense of dread coming over her.
"Can I help you?" she said.
The man looked at her with sad eyes that looked as if they had done this too many times.
"I'm looking for Mrs. Claire Randall."
Bree called for her mother over her shoulder, never taking her eyes off of the man in uniform.
Claire came around the corner and stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of a uniformed man in her doorway.
"No," she whispered. She closed her eyes hoping he'd be gone when she opened them. Instead he was just closer. He'd pushed pass Brianna to come into the house.
"Ma'am, are you Claire Randall, mother to PFC Alexander Randall?"
"Yes," she whispered. Brianna came over and put her arms around her mother, both of them bracing for the uniformed man's next words.
"Ma'am, I regret to inform you that, as of three days ago, your son, PFC Alexander Franklin Randall is missing in action, presumed dead. He was doing patrols with his platoon when they were set upon by enemy combatants. You have your nation's condolences."
Claire heard the words but refused to register them. No. Not her boy. Not her Alex. Please God, no. She collapsed to the floor bringing Bree down with her. Bree held her as she wept for her lost boy, their tears mixing.
The man in uniform let himself out and left the two to mourn their loss in peace.
Septemeber 1968
Claire stood with her daughter and Roger at the stones, waiting for the moment they started to sing to her. Months of research had led to this moment. Jamie had survived Culloden. He was alive and she was going to find him. Armed with a dress she'd made herself to fit the time, some modern medicine, and pictures of Bree growing up; she was going back again.
"Are you going to tell him about Alex?" Bree asked.
Claire sighed. She had struggled with that very question for months. Ever since she found out that Jamie might be alive still. Would she tell him he had a son and then tell him that his son had died fighting a war in a foreign land for people he didn't know and many of whom didn't want to be saved?
"No. I won't," she said, "Why tell him had a son and then make him mourn that son in the next breath? No. I won't break Jamie's heart like that. He's already lost one child, I won't make him lose another."
Bree kissed her mom. "Ok. It's your decision. I love you. Stay safe."
Claire smiled. "I love you more, stay safer."
April 1971 (the present)
Jamie took a moment to take in Lallybroch. The stables were run down and looked like they hadn't seen horse flesh in years. The courtyard was overgrown with weeds, the steps were cracked and cracking. The roof was in need of patching, although it looked as though someone had already started on that. He took a deep, full breath, filling his lungs with Scottish air for the first time in years.
He looked over at Claire and found her eyes already on him, soaking him in.
"James Alexander Malcom MacKenzie Fraser, you in your natural habitat is something to behold." She came over and kissed him. "Now, why don't you get our Miss Murray and bring her inside where we can all warm up and get out of this rain."
Sure enough, as she said the words, the skies opened and it started to rain. Jamie blinked and looked up at the sky before throwing his arms out and laughing. How he had missed the Scottish rain. The way the land smelt and the rivers ran wilder and the heather bloomed. He had missed this country.
Claire laughed at him, "Come on Jamie, you're getting wet."
He smiled as he pulled Genny into his arms and turned to try and protect her from most of the rain.
A light in the house switched on.
"Looks like someone's home, shall we go introduce ourselves, my love?" Claire asked.
"After you, Sassenach."
Claire smiled and walked toward the house. She lifted her hand to knock on the door, trying to think of a good story as to why they were there and why Genny was unconscious. Before she could knock, the door swung open and she stumbled back in shock.
"Claire," she heard Jamie say, "Are ye alright?"
She heard her husband, but couldn't register his words because there before her was her son. The son that she had thought dead for the past three years.
"Alex?" her voice quivered and her hand cautiously reached toward him as though she were afraid he would disappear at any moment.
The man in front of her smiled with tears of his own in his eyes.
"It's me, Mom."
Claire sobbed and threw herself at the son she'd thought she'd lost.
Jamie came up behind them, still holding Genny.
"Claire, ya know this man?"
Claire looked back at Jamie and then to Alex before letting go of him and stepping back so Jamie could get a good look at the man before them.
Jamie stopped, stunned. If he didn't know better he would have said the man before him was a ghost of his former self. He looked at Claire for an explanation.
Claire took a deep breath before saying, "Jamie, this is our son, Brianna's twin brother, Alexander Franklin Randall…Fraser."