Title: Faith (Alternative version of the episode)
Rating: T (13+)
Chapters: none (Oneshot)
Series/Books: Outlander
Genre: Drama
Disclaimer: The story of "Outlander", as well as the characters, are sole property of the author Diana Gabaldon. It's just the idea of this short alternative sequence, which I own myself. I don't earn any money with this story.

He anxiously walked into the Hôpital des Anges, running through the rooms, searching for her, though he actually was afraid to find her. How would she be, when he found her? Would she even be alive? After he managed to escape prison by the help of Murtagh, they told him she'd be here. But nobody had been able to tell him in what condition she actually was. Nobody had been able to tell him more. So he kept running, hoping to find mother Hildegarde, as she knew her so well. She must know what happened to her.

"Where is mother Hildegarde?" he asked the first man he met. He didn't even look into his face.

"She's there in the back, Sir, with the patients..." The man hadn't finished yet as he turned away and started to run again. "But, Sir,...you're not allowed to go there..."

He could hear him protesting behind his back but just ignored each word. Inside his mind he could constantly see these moments, when he saw her for the last time before he got imprisoned. They grew up to a haunting continous loop of pictures and again he could see her going down, bleeding, shouting out his name. He tried to black them out, but he couldn't.

He crossed two doors, which got into his way, slammed them behind him regardlessly and didn't care about if he startled some of the gravely ill patients. He reached another room and when he entered, he recognized the old nun, standing next to another person he didn't pay more attention to at first. At the same moment the bloodcurdling sobbing reached his ears, sounding quite familiar, though he couldn't see her behind the persons standing in front of her.

It made him freeze in motion, interrupting his hastiness, which was just driving forward every fibre of his body and his anxiety and fear prevailed again.

Slowly and without making any noise, he ventured forward. Right before he stood straightly behind the two women, the old nun turned around, seeming to sense his presence. It was mother Hildegarde, holding a bundle of white satin in her arms. He could hardly identify anything from the place he was standing. He set his eyes on mother Hildegarde's, trying to read anything inside the expression of them. He noticed the blazing glimpse, when she recognized him, remembering who he was. But her expression changed immediately. The aged eyes were telling regret and condolence. He did hardly recognize himself starting to shake his head, when she approached him. His body was just reacting automatically to his own fears, overcoming him.

The face of mother Hildegarde was reflecting his own, when she stood straight in front of him, looking into his eyes: "I'm sorry... The Lord has taken her."

Right before he would have been able to misunderstand her words, panicking, searching for the sobbing again, which still hadn't stopped, she laid the white bundle into his arms. His eyes were guttering, filled with confusion...and were searching for mother Hildegarde's expression again to gain an explanation, but her eyes just looked down to the bundle in his arms. It was only then that he also looked down himself and all his fears at one blow became an awful truth.

He looked straight in the wee face between the cosy satin, recognized the pale skin. It seemed like the sun was shining right through it. He saw the eyes, that looked like his own, even now, when they were closed. It took a moment for him to understand, then he gasped for breath, almost flinching from his own arms reverently, while they hold the wee being tightly. It looked so fragile. So he stood there for a long time without moving a muscle, just looking at her and time stood still. He was blinding out everything around him, each noise, every single sound. Until he finally dared to reach out the fingers of his right hand to touch the soft wee face. He was gently stroking the pale cheeks, kept moving upwards to the red fluffy hair on the frail head. He could feel the piercing cold covering the whole body. There was no warmth, not even a gleam of it, though she was lying there so quiet and peaceful that it seemed as everything was all right. But it wasn't.

A shiver ran down his spine as he felt the moistness on his cheeks. He hadn't even noticed the tears running down. One more time his body answered automatically without him being able to influence anything.

It was mother Hildegarde, who brought him finally back out of his trancelike state.

"I baptized her to the name Faith. This way I am able to bury her. Please,...it's time... Give her to me and I'll arrange an appropriate Christian burial!"

His tears were blurring his sight, when he glanced up and he tried to wipe them away with his right sleeve while his left arm still hold her safe and tight to his body. Mother Hildegarde was already reaching out for her. He nodded mechanically, but yet turned towards the wee bundle, soaking himself again in every detail of the wee face, which might have become so much alike his own over time... His flesh and blood... His firstborn child...

More tears ran down his cheeks while he lowered his head and his mouth was softly touching the wee head. "A leannan..." he whispered quietly, so she was the only one, who would have been able to hear it and he gently leant his forehead against the cold skin of the wee cheeks, before more softspoken Gaelic words left his lips.

Mother Hildegarde kept silence, gave him time and didn't rush him. But she didn't leave his side, conscientiously waiting that he would let her do what must have been done.

Finally he realized that he wouldn't be any longer able to avoid it and gave the wee child, wrapped in satin, to her, thanking the nun with a short nod and compressed lips.

In the very same moment when mother Hildegarde carried her away from him, the sobbing reached his ear once more and again he became aware of the reason, why he actually ran to the Hôpital, panicking.

"Mon chere, Claire..." he could hear the woman whisper. She still blocked his view and when he had a closer look now, he recognized Louise, who desperately tried to find comforting words. He swallowed noisily, approached the woman, who turned her back on him, agitated by fear again. He followed the incessant sobbing, which didn't want to cease. Louise became aware of his presence and cleared the way for him, watching him full of compassion.

Then he saw her...

She lay there on the bed, squirming, her face drowned in tears and she was convulsing with pain, which wasn't physically. She was wearing a long nightdress, soaked by sweat and tears and he could just guess for how long she has already been lying here, suffering all alone.

The sight of her made him gasping for air heavily. It broke his heart and he was hardly able to control his own pain any longer. After he managed to break over his first shock, he finally walked straight to her bed, reaching out for her...

"Mo nighean donn..." I could hear the familiar voice subliminally. I could feel the strong arms, embracing me safely, trying to lift me up. Their touch was so intimate, soothing familiar. But I couldn't bear it. I fought against it, beginning to scream and beat him, when he tried to pull me close to his body. Again and again. I was slashing around myself, so I hit him everywhere, sobbing and screaming: „No... NO...!"

I didn't care if I harmed him. I WANTED to. Not because he deserved it, but because I didn't know where to go with all my pain and rage. He was here and he was the only one I was able to wreak my anger on, the only one, who felt the same pain as I did. And I let it out using the last of my strength. But he didn't give in, kept on trying to overpower my fighting body. He was remaining silent, didn't try to prevent me from beating him actively, but just absorbed my attacks, to protect himself of getting harmed. It didn't need much effort, as my body was still weakened, so I wouldn't have been able to hurt him seriously, though I put all my strength in every beat. And finally he had me where he wanted me to. His arms embraced my sobbing body and he pressed me against his own, silent, without saying a word. He just hold my shivering body tight, letting me weep, scream, swaying back and forth gently until I calmed down a bit and stopped resisting his touch.

I could smell his familiar scent, feeling safe and yet still I didn't. My feelings were overwhelming me again and again and in the end I didn't even know why I actually was in that state of agitation. Has it been the loss,...the bliss I felt deep inside me some hours ago and that I had lost now? Or has it been the rage I was feeling because of him, this wild rage, because he broke his word? Actually there was a feeling of hate rising deep inside me. I hated him because his vengeance had been more important to him than me and even than his unborn child. And even when I actually knew that all the signs of the last days had been absolutely clear, speaking for themselves, and there was no reason to believe that the duel with Randall had been triggering anything, I hated him for letting me go through all of this on my own.

However I was glad to have him here now, holding me tight. I was longing for him to come so badly.

Still sobbing quietly I buried my face against his throat and was shuddering, when I suddenly felt the moistness on his skin, touching my cheek. I didn't notice that he was crying too. Caught in my own pain, I had been much to concerned with myself to recognize it. But now I could feel it, felt his body trembling lightly while he was still giving security to mine. I could feel his heart under me, felt its rhythm, telling me the huge effort it took him to support me and even himself. He was still gently swaying back and forth and when I opened my eyes, trying to catch a glimpse over his shoulder, I heard him speaking quietly for the very first time again...

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."

I wasn't able to answer him, was just digging my fingers into his shirt on his back, trying not to lose the comfort he was giving me. We were all alone now. My blurred eyes, gazing into the distance, couldn't recognize any other person inside the room. Then I closed my eyes again, turned towards him utterly again and laid still on his shoulder,...until I fell asleep exhaustedly...

In the deep of the night, I awoke again. My eyelids were clotty by all the tears and I could hardly open them. The first thing I recognized was the slow consistent beat of his heart under me. He was leaning on the bedhead and holding me tight to his chest. I was hardly awake, when I already felt his hand starting to move, stroking comforting up and down my arm. He was awake too and was aware of every single stir of my body. Didn't he sleep at all? He didn't say anything, just kept caressing me in silence and made me feel secure. My rage had ebbed away, but the deep void and pain hadn't. Even his presence couldn't change that. I was gasping for breath noisily, grabbing his arm, which lay wrapped around my body, just to try to hold onto something. He felt it and the words found their way unopposedly out of his mouth now, as if all my thoughts just had bared to him at once: "Do you hate me...?"

I answered fast and rashly, but totally honest in this moment: "Yes..."

He was freezing in his caressing. I could hear him breathe and his heart lost its constant rhythm. Then he started to move under me, sat up completely and tried to move himself carefully away from me.

"Don't you...dare to leave me alone now!" I was spitting at him harshly and could feel the tears again, lurking beneath the surface immediately.

He stopped in his movement abruptly, swallowed noisily again, but then obeyed and laid back down into his old position. I could feel his tensed body and knew how much my answer had stirred him up. But it took me a while until I regained my composure again to be able to speak to him.

"I hate you for leaving me alone,...for breaking your word..."

He swallowed, but didn't say anything. It seemed as he was searching for an answer. But I got there first.

"But...I also know, that I should never have been requiring that of you. I know it was way to much to claim something like this, after what happened. And I know it wasn't your fault that..."

I could feel him moving. His face was turning towards mine and he looked at me for a long time. Then he lowered his mouth on my forehead and kissed me... For the first time since he came to me to the Hôpital. And I admitted it, enjoyed to feel him that way.

Once more he tried to say something, but I interrupted him again.

"It's not your fault. It's mine..."

He looked at me confused, didn't understand obviously.

"It's my fault." I continued. "I thought I'd never be able to become a mother. And then you gave that little wonder to me..."

A quiet sob interrupted me, before I was able to go on: "But I just wasn't able to carry her to full term and deliver her healthy..."

He embraced me tighter as a deep sob made my whole body trembling again.

"No!" he said, firmly. "No, mo nighean donn! You cannot think like that!"

I wasn't able to respond anything, as my tears prevented me from every try.

"Some things just happen and we cannot do anything to avoid them. We just don't have any influence." he continued speaking quietly while he was stroking my back soothingly. "Only the Lord himself knows why they happen. But I promise,...I swear to ye,...you will experience this joy. One day. We both will."

He kissed my forehead again and laid his face onto my head, until I had calmed down fully again.

"And we will get through this...together..."

I closed my eyes, sighing from deep within and leaning into his embrace. Finally turned my face towards him and whispered: "Jamie?"

"Aye...?"

"Hold me tight!"

I could feel him nodding: "Aye,...I do..." His hands didn't move, just stayed in place.

"Tighter, please...!" I claimed quietly.

"Aye..." He pulled me closer to his body, until my face laid immediately below his neck and his arms were putting pressure onto my whole body, so there was hardly one part where we didn't touch. I was sighing satisfied against his throat and caused goosebumps on his skin.

"Don't let me go...!"

"Never..."