Breakfast. I love breakfast and I am exceptionally hungry this morning. Sleeping well has that effect on me and I sleep well with my Sassenach in my arms. I sigh, a deep audible sigh, of contentment. My lovely Sassenach, and what a sight she is this morning. Claire, with her beautiful nest of curls, all wild about her face and her bonnie, round arse right there, ready for me to caress, has served me a bowl of porridge, with honey, while she makes ham and eggs and toast for me. As I said, I am hungry. And coffee. I like it with cream and sugar; light and sweet, Claire calls it. I am almost finished with my porridge as Claire sets the plate of eggs, ham and toast down on the table. I reach up and gently touch her cheek with my hand, in thanks. She leans down and places a kiss on my lips. I push my chair back away from the table. I wrap my arms around her waist, pull her into my lap and deepen the kiss.

"Honey," Claire whispers as she licks her lips and wraps her arms around my neck. She kisses me again.

I hear a noise, a shuffle of feet, and look up to see Lambert enter the kitchen in his pajamas and robe. Claire immediately jumps from my lap and backs into the counter. She and I exchange questioning looks. His note said he was not at home last night, that he was with his friend. I never went into the bedroom to put my travel bag away; it is still on the floor in the hallway where I left it when we came in. I never thought to check the room. "Cac," I say out loud and under my breath.

I nod at her, in indication that I will speak to Lambert about us and watch as he sets his newspaper down on the table and pours himself a cup of coffee. Lambert drinks his coffee black; this morning he adds cream and sugar, like me. He does not utter a word to either Claire or myself nor does he make eye contact with either of us.

"Would you like some breakfast Uncle Lamb?" Claire asks as she looks at me and nods her head toward her uncle.

I nod my head again and clear my throat. "Lambert," I start...

"A piece of toast would be nice," he interrupts. "Since you ask, my dear, if that would not be too much trouble." He sits down at the table, opens his newspaper and begins to read. "Did you two sleep well?" he asks as he glances over the top of the paper, directing his gaze at me. I am more than fair at reading a persons face. That's why I am so successful at cards. Lambert's face is a puzzle to me. His face shows he is none too happy about Claire and I, but his eye's, they tell a totally different story. They show merriment, that he is pleased about something.

I turn red. As red as my hair. As red as one of Claire's poisonous tomatoes and choke on my fork full of eggs. I am embarrassed for Claire, more than for myself. This is Claire's uncle, her guardian. I have dishonored him and brought shame to Claire. Forget my own shame. I have taken his niece, made her my own without declaring a word of my intentions to him. I should be ashamed, but I am not. I do not deserve to look the man in the eye, but I hold my head up and look back at him despite that. I should not have taken Claire before marriage and certainly would not wed her without his consent, but I will not be ashamed of my feelings for her and hers for me. I will explain all this to him, make him listen. I will make sure he understands. I will wed Claire before I go, if Lambert wishes it.

Claire, as if she has heard my thoughts, puts down the pan she is cleaning and comes to stand beside me, placing her hand on my shoulder in a show of solidarity. She gently squeezes it to reinforce that support and offers courage as well. "Lambert," I start again...

Lambert, now, gives me his full attention by setting both his coffee cup and newspaper down on the table. He leans back in his chair, folds his arms across his chest and says, "Yes, James?" It is then that I notice the start of a small smile in the corner of his mouth.

The sly fox...Claire and I have been set up. Played. He has wanted us together, for whatever reason, this whole time. He was in his room all night, quietly waiting for our return. He ken the hour of our return would be late, that we'd be tired and hungry. He left the note and the food and let Claire and I take care of the rest. He gambled that I would not even go into the bedroom he and I shared. He ken I'd sleep with Claire if he was not there. Praise God, Claire and I had gone right to sleep and made no ruckus. We had just laid in each others arms, happy to be there with each other, instead of separate rooms. Neither of us waking until the sound of birds chirping and the early morning's light came through her bedroom window. Why? It is so clearly obvious to me, now, that he wants Claire and I together. He has hinted at it before. Why would that be something he desires? He could not think that she would never find someone to love her, to marry her, surely? Although the thought of her lying with anyone else angers me, I ken Claire is a smart and beautiful woman, verra desirable. Randall alone, meets the qualifications and he desperately chases Claire's skirts at every available opportunity. So why then has Lambert done this? Is it in an effort to find Claire a husband? Would he arrange for us to be caught in a compromising situation, just so I could be made to wed her? That's where this trail leads to but, no, that makes no sense, no sense at all. Lambert is up to something. I smell a really bad fish.

"I want you to ken, Lambert, that I..."

Lambert coughs. It is a forced cough. He does not need to clear his throat, he just wants to interrupt me. He takes his glasses off, puts the lens in his mouth, one at at time, and breaths hot air on them. They fog up. He then takes his napkin and starts to wipe the moisture away. When he is finished, he places the glasses back on his face, adjusts them and then places his hands on the table, fingers interlocked. "As you were saying, James..." and he again looks directly at me, no glance toward Claire. Well, he is right. It is my fault. I allowed this happen. Even though my intentions started out honorable, I bedded his niece like she was a common whore. I deserve his displeasure, his wrath.

Claire has been busy at the counter. She turns and starts to set a plate of toast next to Lambert's coffee cup. Instead she moves his cup and picks up the newspaper. She then sets down his plate of toast. She begins to read the paper. I thought she was helping me. I look at her as if to say, 'put down the damn paper and help me here', but she never looks up.

So I try again. "Lambert, I ken you understand that it has been less than a week, but in that time Claire and I have grown..."

And NOW Claire interrupts me. "Jamie." she says. NOW she looks directly at me.

I look and her, in confusion, nod my head at her, turn back to Lambert and continue, "...Claire and I have grown verra fond..."

"Jamie," Claire says with a little more force. "Jamie..."

I stop, AGAIN, and look at her in frustration. What is it with Beauchamps and interrupting people while they are talking..."Claire, I am trying to have a discussion with your uncle now." I open my hands, palms facing upward, and gesturing toward Lambert. "Can it no wait, please?" I ask then I turn back to Lambert and begin yet again..."I have grown verra fond of Claire..."

"Jamie, you need to see this. Now. I think the talk with Lamb can wait. Please." she says to me. I look up at Claire with frustration clearly showing on my face. Lambert looks at me and then to Claire. Claire steps back and leans against the counter directly behind her. Her brow is furrowed, her eyes squinting in thought, and a look of confusion beginning to settle on her face. She looks up at me and says, "Murtagh FitzGibbons Fraser is your godfather, yes?"

"Aye," I say and look back at Lambert, and try to start again. I then realize, I have only told Claire my godfather's first and sire name, not any names in between. How did she ken FitzGibbons? I look back up at her.

There is Claire, holding the newspaper, in front of her with both hands. "This is the man from my dream, Jamie. The one you were holding in your arms." she says and I am looking directly at a picture of my godfather's face. Do I know this man? The newspaper asks in print above the picture. I grab the newspaper from Claire's hands and stare at the face. It is him. I'd recognize the auld codger anywhere. How did he end up with his picture on a newspaper printed in 1946? I look back up at Claire, my mouth open in shock. I can not find my voice.

Claire sits at the table, takes the newspaper from my hands and reads the article.

Do you know this man

Murtagh FitzGibbons Fraser?

Then there is his picture. Not a very happy face, but then my godfather never smiles. For any reason I ken of. Claire continues to read...

Found in the woods just outside city limits on Monday October 27 by two hikers. He was found, dressed in period clothing and carrying weapons. The man claims he is from 1746 and has fallen through the Stones at Craigh na Dun. He is currently being held on the Psychiatric floor at Culduthel Hospital. If you or anyone you know recognizes him, you are asked to please contact Doctor Weaver at 44.7947.6195 or your local police.

"Jamie," Claire says. "Jamie."

"This is my godfather, Claire. My godfather is here? Really here?" I say in complete and utter disbelief. I take my eyes off the newspaper and look at Claire. I can hardly believe it. Did he follow me, come looking for me? I smile. A great, big smile and breathe a sigh of relief. I am not alone.

Claire is smiling, ear to ear as well, for me, for my happiness. "Yes, Your godfather's here, Jamie. In Inverness. In 1946. We need to get dressed. We need to go to the hospital and have him released. We need to bring him home." she says. "Back to the flat," she quietly corrects herself as her face drops. "He must be scared to death in there, Jamie."

I stand up and grab Claire in my arms and swing her in a circle. She laughs for me, is happy for me. "My godfather, Claire. My godfather is here. We are going to go and get him." I can not stop smiling. I set her down and kiss her hard on the lips. "Thank you Sassenach." I say. In two bites, I finish my eggs. I take the ham and place it on my toast and eat it as I pick up my travel bag, walk down the hall to the bedroom to dress. There is a lightness to my steps that has been missing since I arrived. I ken I am smiling; a large, daft grin is stuck on my face. Murtagh, my godfather is here. I can hardly believe it. I close my eyes and say a small blessing in thanks. My godfather somehow came through the Stones and is here in Inverness in 1946. And Claire and I will fetch him and bring him back to here to the flat. Home. And suddenly I realize, I have not been alone since the moment I met her. There has been the two of us from the beginning. I totally forget my conversation with Lambert and do'na even realize that I am changing my clothes in Claire's room. "Murtagh, I am coming." I tell Scotland as I yell out the window. Claire and I are going to get him. Together.

I sit at the table next to my uncle. I take his hand in mine and look at his loving and gentle face. He has a smile on his face. He has been my family since I can remember, my teacher, my guiding light through out most of my entire life; his is responsible for the strong, independent, tell it like it is, woman I have become. How, now, do I tell him that in less than a week, Jamie has replaced him in my heart. No, not replaced but Jamie has certainly usurped him. "I love him, Lamb." I tell him. "My darling Lamb, I have finally found the one; Jamie is the one I have been waiting for. He is my heart and my soul," I tell him and lay my hand gently upon his cheek. "It all happened so fast, I really can not remember a point in time since he arrived that I have not loved him. From the moment I walked into the kitchen and he looked up at me with those soulful, blue eyes, dripping water on my kitchen floor. With just a look and a touch, not a single spoken word, and I was his, Lamb. Body and soul. Like I had been hit with cupids arrow. I'd do anything for him, if he asked, Lamb. if Jamie had wanted it, he could have taken me right there on that wet kitchen floor that first night and I would have welcomed it, relished it. You know I have spent my whole life, waiting and kissing lots of frogs in an attempt to find my prince, my soul mate. Jamie is the one, Lamb, he is my soul. Please do not be angry with him. He stood strong. He refused my advances. Said "No". Said it was not honorable to take me before wedding me and he could not, would not, wed me because he was leaving. He said it would dishonor you, dishonor me to wed me and then leave me. Jamie said that he was bound by duty to return to his time. He says he cannot stay, even though we both know it means certain death for him to go. Lamb, I had to know, to feel what that kind of love is like...'tis better to have loved and lost, that never to have loved before', right? He gave me the one night I begged him for. I would not trade that one night for anything, Lamb. Jamie will leave tomorrow before dawn and I will never see him again; never feel his touch, smell him or hear him, again." A tear slides down my cheek and my uncle stands up and pulls me into his chest and I softly cry. "Please Lamb, you can not say anything to Jamie. I can not ask him to stay, though my heart wants me to throw myself at his feet and beg him to do just that. Jamie must do what he has to do. He must make his own choice." I look up into my uncle's face pleading for him to not say anything to Jamie. He nods his head and hands me his handkerchief.

Claire and I catch the bus to Culduthel Hospital, which is where she works. We take an 'elevator', which is a large metal box, with doors that open and close, that goes up and down to different floors so you do'na have to climb the stairs. Verra strange. I do'na like it much. It reminds me of being on a ship, makes me a wee sick in my gut. We take the elevator up to the fourth floor and walk to the nurse's station. Claire recognizes the nurse on duty, though she says she does not ken her well. The nurse, Claire says, does have a bit of a reputation, but my Sassenach does not elaborate. Nurse Ratched hands Claire papers that we need to complete and says she will page Doctor Weaver when the paperwork is complete. Claire quickly finishes the paperwork and gives it back to her. I can not sit. I am fidgety, like a wee laddie with toads in his breeks. I am pacing and keep looking through the glass in the door to see if I can find Murtagh.

"Nurse Ratched...Rachel," Claire starts. "Would it be possible for us to wait inside and visit with Mr. Fraser until Dr. Weaver becomes available? My friend is very worried about his godfather. They have been separated since late Saturday night and he is very anxious to see him. I will stay with them, if that will ease your mind any."

Claire is speaking to the nurse verra calmly. Gently. The same tone I use on her. It is working. The nurse comes out from behind the window, unlocks the door and allows us in. It is a large room with tables and chairs, a couple of settees and a large radio that is playing music. I scan the room. There are over two dozen men here. They all have funny striped shirts on and slippers, no breeks. And when one turns around I see that he is naked underneath and the shirt has a long tear in the back. Tied ribbons are the only thing holding the shirt closed. Several men immediately walk toward us. They all have unlit cigarettes in their mouths and ask us if we have a light.

Claire calmly replies, "No, I'm sorry, we don't. We have no matches." and all three walk away from us.

Another single man approaches and says to me, "You are very tall. Are you John Wayne?" and then turns and walks away as well. This is a strange place, the psychiatric floor; everybody here seems to be a bit loon. Finally, I find my godfather. I'd ken him anywhere, even without his arse show'n. He is in the far corner. Standing in front of a window staring out. I whistle. My godfather goes ridged and lifts his head. I softly whistle again and Murtagh's head whips around and he sees me. He entire body turns around, and his very dower face starts to grow a grin that ends up ear to ear. It seems to take me forever to cross the room and envelope him in an embrace.

I release him and grab both his shoulders, give them a firm shake and say, "A charaid," in a choked voice, then I grab him back into a hug. The only words my godfather has is my name "Jamie" over and over again, in disbelief.

Finally, when we separate, Murtagh gently slaps my face and leaves his palm resting on my cheek and asks, "Is it really you, Jamie? Is it really you?"

"Aye, Murtagh. IIt's me." I say but my voice still cracks with joy. "What happened to your beard and hair?

"Jamie, they held me down and shaved me. Then they cut my hair off. Can you believe it?" His face was full of anger, but he kept his voice calm and quiet. "Ya can'na loose your temper in here. They will sit on ya, poke ya in the arse with a pointed pin, that must be magic because, it makes ya go to sleep in not time. See those two glaikit goons over there dressed in white, and he nods his head toward the door Claire and I entered...they are the ones that hold ya down, and then that slursach in her shift and a wee white hat on her head shoves the pin in your arse. Sometimes they give ya some sort of magic bean they make ya swallow that does the same thing." He shakes his head. "Where have ya been? Did ya come through the stones after me, then? Have ya come to break me out of this prison? Is your Uncle Dougal and the rest of the MacKenzie with ya? Are they wait'n outside? I've missed ya something awful, laddie."

I don't think his smile could get any bigger. I grab hold of his arm and then turn my sights to locating Claire. She is still by the door speaking to the nurse and the two men in white. Our eyes meet and Claire turns to the nurse, says something and then walks toward me.

When she reaches me, she asks, "So it's really him? This is your godfather, Jamie?"

Murtagh has turned and looks at Claire with suspicion, when she first starts to speak. He looks to me for an explanation. It's her Englishness Murtagh is questioning.

"Murtagh, this is Claire, Claire Beauchamp. Claire, may I introduce my godfather Murtagh FitzGibbons Fraser. Claire's uncle found me walking in the rain the night I arrived. He took me back to Claire's, his niece, as he lives with her. I had been shot in the skirmish with the British soldiers and I hurt my shoulder, as well, when I fell through the Stones. Claire is a healer and fixed my scratches. It is to her home we will be going to when we get you out of here."

"Aye?" Murtagh says and looks Claire over from the top of her head to the tips of her shoes. "Well, I am grateful to you for having taken care of the lad, when I was not able to."

"It is very nice to meet you, Mr. Fraser," Claire says and holds out her hand to shake his.

"A Sassenach, Jamie?" Ignoring Claire's offered hand. Murtagh raises an eyebrow at me, "A friend ya say? Or maybe a wee more?"

"Aye, I call her more than that a charaid, but Claire will do for now until we have a chance to speak." I tell him and shake his shoulder again. The three of us walk back to Nurse Ratched.

"Would it be alright if we accompany Mr. Fraser back to his room to help him change his clothes and gather his things?" Claire asks. Nurse Ratched is in the middle of explaining why she can'na allow this, when Dr. Weaver comes through the door.

"Claire Beauchamp, as I live and breathe. You are a sight for these old sore eyes. What brings you to the 'Psych floor? Thinking of transferring, dare I hope?" he questions as he shoots a look of frustration at Nurse Ratched. "We'd love to have you..." the Doctor says and give Claire an embrace much too long for my liking.

"Dr. Weaver, it is wonderful to see you again, as well. No, not transferring, sir. I still really enjoy the work in the ER. We are here about Murtagh Fraser. We saw the article in the paper. My friend, James Fraser," and Claire lightly places her hand on my arm and continues, "is Murtagh Fraser's godson. We have been looking everywhere, since we returned from a short trip and discovered him missing. We are so grateful that he is safe. We'd like to take him home, if that would be alright." Claire stops talking and gives Dr. Weaver one of her prettiest smiles.

"That's odd, the police have said that no one has filed a missing persons report. That's why we decided to run the picture in the newspaper," Dr. Weaver, looking slightly confused, states.

"We were off to do that verra thing this morning when we happened to read the paper. We came here straight away, instead." I quickly add and pat Claire's hand which is starting to grip my arm.

"Mr. Fraser," Dr. Weaver states, as he turns and faces Murtagh, "Do you know these people?"

"Aye," Murtagh responses. "At least I ken the lad. Jamie is my godson, after all. I'd have to be daft not to recognize him." Murtagh laughs. Claire and I go a little tense when my uncle uses the word 'daft'.

"You don't recognize Miss Beauchamp, Mr. Fraser?" Dr. Weaver asks, looking a little concerned.

"My godfather has no met Claire until just a few moments ago," I answer.

"Oh?" Dr. Weaver mutters in an acknowledging response. "Oh. Well, Mr. Fraser, if you would like to go home with your godson, then we'll get the release paperwork started. In the mean time, if you would like to go back to your room, change clothes and collect your things...that would be fine. I'd just like to talk to your godson for a few minutes, if that would be alright." Dr. Weaver says. "Mr. Fraser, why don't you have a seat over there" and he nods at a chair by the window, "and Mr. Fraser...oh that is a bit confusing isn't it...Murtagh, if I may call you that for the sake of clarity, if you will wait for your godson over there, please. James, if you will allow me to reference you by your first name as well, if you and Claire will come with me, I would like to go over some things with you before Murtagh leaves us. Follow me, please." and he turns to walk off the ward.

I turn to Murtagh and place a hand on his shoulder. "I will no be gone long, a charaid. I will be back before ya ken it and then we will leave together, aye?"

Murtagh shiftes back and forth from one foot to another. I can tell he does not like that I am leaving through the door he kens will lock behind me. I squeeze his shoulder and shake it lightly. "I will be right back. On my honor."

Claire steps forward and lightly kisses Murtagh on the cheek. She whispers something to him, that I can'na make out but it makes Murtagh look her in the face and smile. I take Claire's hand and we turn and follow the Doctor back out the doors.

Once in the Doctor's office, he states, "Your godfather was in pretty good shape, physically. He did have lice and fleas, but we have managed them. We had to shave his beard and cut his hair for those reasons. He gave us a pretty hard time about both. He has shown some hostility toward staff and fellow patients during his short stay with us. We had to sedate him several time to insure compliance. You understand, Mr. Fraser?

Claire nods her head so I mimic her. I rub the top of her hand I am holding with my thumb, to thank her for all of this.

Dr. Weaver continues, "Do you live with your godfather, Mr. Fraser?"

"Aye." I answer. "We are new to the area, that's probably why Murtagh became lost. He is not familiar with Inverness. We are staying with Claire, Miss Beauchamp and her Uncle, until we make other arrangements." and I feel Claire squeeze my hand.

"Oh, well that does change things." Dr. Weaver says, wiping the concern off his face with a smile. "Claire, is a wonderful nurse, one of the best this hospital has ever had. I would have no reservations releasing Murtagh to you, with the understanding that he will be under her watchful eyes." He actually breathes a sigh of relief. "Your uncle's behavior is a little concerning. While here, he claims he is from 1742. That he "fell" through the Stones at Craig na dun. You can understand why that would concern us."

"How very odd" Claire says. "Yes, they will be staying with me until things become settled. I will accept full responsibility for Mr. Fraser's care while they remain here in Inverness. When I am at work, Jamie will watch his godfather, very carefully, I can assure you. Murtagh is in good hands, Dr. Weaver."

"Well, I am glad to hear that." Dr. Weaver states. "You know when he was found he had two swords on him. Quite old according to the Police. Museum worthy, they said. He actually attached one of the responding officers with it. Mr. Fraser said he was not afraid to use the weapon to defend himself."

"Ooch," I say in response. "I will have a wee talk with him when we get him home. Maybe we should hide that bottle of scotch, eh Claire? The swords are old ones, from our family, handed down from father to son."

Claire smiles weakly and nods her head.

"Just where are the swords now?" I ask.

"Oh, we have no way of keeping such weapons here at the hospital, as Claire can tell you. They are at the police station. You can go by and pick them up, I assume." the doctor adds.

"Weel," I say as I stand up. "I'd like to get my godfather back to Claire's if you don't mind. A good soak in the tub and a hot supper might help rejuvenate his soul, I should think. Where are his clothes and I will help him dress and collect his things, if Claire, you would please finish the necessary paperwork, aye?" I give her the sincerest look of gratitude I can muster. What would I have done without her?

I go back through the locked ward doors, carrying Murtagh's clothes. One of the goons in white takes Murtagh and I back to his room and then leaves us. "Where have ya been Jamie?" Murtagh asks in a whisper. "When I woke up it was dark and raining. I called for ya, but no answer."

"Not here Murtagh. Wait until we get back to Claire's. We can talk about it there, aye?" I whisper to him. "Are you hungry?" I ask.

"I could eat a horse." he says.

"No horse, but ale and steak and kidney pie I think I ken do." It is good to see Murtagh smile.

"Are ya gon'na tell me about the English lass as well? Why don't ya do that while I change, my wee lad." Murtagh says. "Something tells me, even though I have been here the whole time, I have missed a great deal. Claire, aye? Bonnie, verra bonnie indeed. Start talk'n Jamie."

We take the stairs. No time to explain the elevator to Murtagh and I don't want to scare him. Finally, we exit the hospital. Our own wee little clan of three. I take Claire's hand in mine as we follow Murtagh to a nearby patch of grass. He stretches his arms out wide and turns his face to the sun, a rarity unto itself, and allows the light and it's warmth to embrace him. "God, I hope never to be imprisoned in that damn place again. You say you work here?" he asks as he turns to Claire.

I smile and pull her tightly to my side. "Aye, that she does, Murtagh. She is an amazing healer. I have a lot to tell ya; to explain and show, some verra wondrous things. Let's go get ya something to eat and drink and then we'll take ya home."