8 August, 2154

Castlebay, Isle of Barra, Scotland

CATRÌONA POV

I was about to finish my rounds for the day when I was told that I had a visitor at the front desk. Confused, I made my way over from the ED to find Maevis, now seven years old and looking every bit like me at that age, dressed in her school uniform with her backpack on her back. "Maevis?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Hi, Mama," said Maevis, waving at me from the front desk. "Mrs. Lewis was just tellin' me aboot her kitty!"

"Oh, was she now?" I asked her. "And what are ye doin' here? I thought Miss Muirreach was supposed te come and get ye from school."

"Oh, she did, but I told her ye wanted me te come here instead," Maevis replied to me.

"But I didnae want ye te come here, Maevis Anne," I told her in a mildly scolding tone.

"But I wanted te come Mama. Ye said ye'd show me the operatin' theatre!" Maevis whined to me, and I let out a heavy sigh.

"Aye, I did, didnae I? Well, let's see if there's one open, aye? Come wi' me, lass," I said, holding out my hand to her, which she gladly took, and mouthed a 'thank you' to Mrs. Lewis. "So, how was school?"

"It was fine," she said. "Miss Connors told me I'm readin' too good fer her class."

"How can one read 'too good'?" I asked her with confusion. "Well, ye dinnae listen te her, hen. Ye ken tha' yer verra smart, and just because the other bairns arenae as smart as ye doesnae mean ye should be held back from it."

"She says 'slow and steady wins the race'," said Maevis.

"Aye, in some situations, it does, but not all," I told her, passing the doctors' lounge. "Why dinnae we pop in here fer a second? Ye can meet some of Mama's coworkers." I led Maevis inside, where we were greeted by two doctors and three nurses, who were excited to learn that Maevis was interested in medicine.

"Have we a future doctor on our hands?" asked one of the nurses.

"Aye, ye do!" Maevis said excitedly.

"Maevis has been dreamin' of bein' a doctor ever since she could talk," I chimed in, running my fingers through Maevis's slightly wavy hair. It was certainly much straighter than mine, but still just as thick.

"I want te be a trauma doctor, like Mama is," Maevis replied, looking up at me. "Of course, I'll do it without glasses." I couldn't help but chuckle - ever since I had gotten glasses the year before, Maevis teased me for having 'old lady eyes'. Playfully, of course - she was never mean about it, but she wasn't wrong. I was now thirty-eight, definitely getting close to being middle-aged, and my eyesight wasn't nearly as good as it used to be. Suddenly, the television, and all of our mobile phones, screeched out an alarming tone, drawing all of our attention to either the television or the phones. I pulled out my mobile phone and glanced at the screen:

EMERGENCY ALERT

BALLISTIC MISSILE THREAT INBOUND TO GLASGOW. SEEK IMMEDIATE SHELTER. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.

"What in the hell?" I heard one of the other doctors, Dr. MacPhearson, say.

"Mama, wha's happenin'?" Maevis asked me, not frightened but definitely uneasily.

"I dinnae ken, hen," I said, looking up at the television as a news anchor appeared on the screen speaking in an urgent tone.

"This is breaking news, seek shelter immediately! A ballistic missile of some kind has been launched from Aldermaston in southern England, seemingly on its way te Glasgow. It is unknown at this time what sort of ballistic missile is headin' fer us right now, but Aldermaston is kent fer storin' nuclear warheads," said the news anchor, and two of the nurses gasped. As the anchor continued to speak, the screen switched to a visualisation of a missile as it flew over southern Scotland, destined to hit its intended target within minutes. All of us watched in horror as the missile drew nearer and nearer. "Residents of Glasgow, if ye havenae sought shelter yet, please do so immediately . This is not a drill, this is a verra real threat. This missile appears te be a nuclear warhead. Remain calm and dinnae leave yer shelters until-" The screen went black. For a few moments, all was quiet, until the ground began to shake and the sound of a very loud 'boom' shook the building.

"Maevis, stay here! Dinnae move!" I told my daughter, running out of the doctors' lounge. I followed several other doctors, nurses, patients, visitors and other personnel outside of the hospital who were looking in the direction of mainland Scotland, where, way off in the distance, a large mushroom cloud could be seen approximately where Glasgow was located. I covered my mouth with my hands, utter shock taking over me as I pictured the utter destruction that Glasgow must be enduring in that exact moment.

We had all seen photographs of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, two Japanese cities which, before today, were the only cities with living citizens that were destroyed by nuclear weapons. Buildings were levelled, homes were destroyed. All forms of life had been obliterated. The temperatures reached such high levels that people in the immediate blast zone had been vapourised, leaving nothing but a shadow behind, staining the ground where they once stood. I grew sick to my stomach, having once thought the threat of nuclear war a thing of the past, but this absolutely monstrous act of war had just been committed against my own people, in my own time.

Reporters began flocking to the hospital, though there weren't many on Barra. They assumed that because we were the largest hospital that could handle such a volume of casualties simply because we were a retired military hospital that once did handle such a large volume. Once they saw that mushroom cloud, they, too, were stunned into silence. Nearby me, one reporter pulled herself from her shock and approached me, recognising that I was a doctor from my white coat and scrubs. "Excuse me, Doctor, but do ye have anythin' te say in terms of… what's just happened in Glasgow?" she asked me, and without looking at her, I just shook my head, dropping my hands to my sides.

"I… I dinnae ken if I can…" I said quietly. "This… this is an unprecedented catastrophe." In the days that followed the bombing of Glasgow, that became the tagline used to describe the bombing across the globe. Several people in the surrounding towns of Glasgow were brought to us with serious burns and radiation poisoning, and many of them died. It was estimated that about 500,000 people died on immediate impact, with another several thousand dying from related injuries in the surrounding area. Glasgow had a population of near 750,000 in 2154, and so, so many of them had been killed, hardly knowing what hit them. There had been no warning, save for the alert that came only mere minutes before the bomb hit Glasgow, and there just hadn't been time for the majority of the population to get to safety. The next question became, who was responsible for this atrocity? Evidently, King Edward IX had died, and Prince Alexander, now King Alexander I, had decided that his first act as king would be to attempt to regain Scotland under British territory.

I didn't sleep for days. For several days, I worked hard to save lives along with several doctors who abandoned their regular practices to assist us, as we had the largest surge in all of Scotland of survivors of the incident, being that our hospital was designed to cater to so many. It was awful… So many innocent men, women and children had their skin melt off of their bodies, blood pouring out of every crevice they had.

And I still didn't know the fate of Tom, or Maidie, or Don, or Rory, or their young daughter, Morgan, who had been born only a year and a half before. The Tanners had moved back to Glasgow before Morgan was born, and Tom, of course, still lived there, occasionally visiting Maevis and I in Barra. I hadn't heard from any of them in about a week, and when I was finally forced off of the floor to rest, I couldn't sleep not knowing where they were. I tried calling, but all of the phone lines were down. We couldn't reach out to any relatives of the wounded, nor could we request assistance or supplies when we started to run out. It became a case of who had the best chances of survival - they would get the blood, the ventilators, the anesthesia, the medicine, the pain relief, and more, leaving the rest to die and suffer. We just didn't have a choice, we didn't have enough supplies to help - or save - all of those people. I, being blood type O-, the universal donor, donated where I could, but even I could only donate so many times.

Finally, about two weeks after the bombing in Glasgow, a slew of helicopters arrived, as well as a plane, bearing some patients as well as much needed supplies and blood, and, to my surprise, Tom as well. "Tom!" I cried when I saw him, running to embrace him and throwing my arms around him. "Oh, thank Christ yer alive!"

"I got lucky," he told me. "The headquarters had a very deep basement, complete with a bunker meant for attacks like this. But so many others didn't get as lucky. We couldn't get them in fast enough, there just wasn't time. How are you? Are you okay? What about Maevis?"

"The children have been sent te the school te be watched, essentially, while any parents who are medical personnel or volunteerin' are here workin'," I told him. "Have ye heard from Maidie? Please tell me ye've heard from her."

"She got lucky, too. She had taken the kids to Wales to visit an old friend of hers who was sick," Tom replied. "I ran into her when we were doing a search for survivors in the surrounding area. She'd come back to help."

"What aboot…" I began, but he shook his head.

"Don is… unaccounted for," Tom replied. "He worked in central Glasgow. The building… it was levelled to the ground, and it didn't have a sturdy enough basement. Even if he had survived, he likely would've died from radiation poisoning. I imagine he got lucky."

"Aye," I said, glancing around at the patients suffering all around us. "Aye, he did… I wouldnae wish this on my worst enemy…"

"Scotland has declared war on England fer this atrocity, and we've been given support by America, Canada, France, Spain, Norway, Sweden, Italy, and even Russia, if you can believe it," Tom told me. "But that's all they're giving us. They don't want to get involved in a bloody war between England and Scotland."

"Ye'd think they would, considerin' this is the third time England has attacked us," I said with a heavy sigh. "What'll we do? We're at war again?"

"Unfortunately," Tom replied. "Alexa wants you to head one of the army medical divisions, given your experience both as a soldier and a doctor."

"I'm not a soldier anymore," I said. "And I cannae do that. I've got Maevis."

"That's another reason I wanted to talk to you," Tom told me. "Do you have a place we can talk privately?"

"Not here, everra room, even offices, have been converted te patient rooms," I told him. "My car, but we need te hurry. I cannae stay away long."

"You need to rest a bit, Catrìona. America, Ireland, Norway and France are sending doctors here and to other hospitals to help with the casualties," Tom told me as I led him to my car in the car park. "Have you even slept?"

"A bit," I replied. "Not much, I must admit. It's hard te, when everraone around ye is in so much pain. And it'll likely get worse. If Alexander can resort te nuclear warfare and no' give a damn… Who kens what he'll do next?"

"Actually, he won't use even the threat of nuclear weapons again," Tom told me. "Russia and America both threatened to bomb the living shit out of him in London and the UN has threatened to try him as a war criminal if he engages in such a crime again."

"That's it? Tha's all they're doin'? How many people has the bastard killed? Why does no one care?" I demanded angrily.

"The estimate is 520,000 dead, approximately, and that number is only rising," Tom replied, and I let out a heavy sigh.

"Aye, we've lost close te a thousand already here," I said. "We dinnae have the room. We've had te request local builders te start diggin' a mass grave. The morgue is overflowin', and there's nothin' we can do aboot it."

"The whole world is talking about it, about how England is an evil force, like Russia was to Ukraine a century ago," Tom told me. "America has offered all sorts of assistance again… including a program to protect the children of Scotland." I didn't answer him - as soon as he brought that up, I knew what he was going to say. "Cat… With war starting again between England and Scotland… Richard is going to come after you. You cost him his parents, it's gotten personal with him."

"He cost me mine. It's been personal wi' me," I replied bitterly. "I'm not sendin' Maevis away… She's all I have left of him."

"Of who? Jamie?" Tom asked me, causing my heart to drop into my stomach at the mention of Jamie's name. "You know, I looked into him. There's no evidence he existed."

"He did," I told him without emotion. "Just because ye dinnae believe me doesnae mean he didnae exist."

"I believe you fine," Tom said. "But that doesn't matter, Cat. He wouldn't want Maevis to be in danger, and she is , so long as she remains where Richard can get to her."

"I'll protect her," I spat at him. "I'm her mother, it's what I do!"

"I have no doubt you can protect her, the same way you claim to have protected those other children that also have no evidence of existing," Tom told me, and I turned on him.

"There is! Go te St. Margaret's Cemetery, where the Lairds of Cìosamul are buried. There's the grave of a wee bairn there - Faith Fraser. She was my daughter, too. She's the one that was born still," I told him, and he scoffed.

"What, do you mean to say you'd been here in Barra that whole time you were gone?" Tom asked me.

"Have a look fer yerself," I told him. "Out of my car now. I need te get back te my patients." With a huff, he got out of the car, following me as I made my way back to the hospital.

"This is what I meant, Cat. You're a doctor, you save people. The people of Scotland who will be soldiers in this new war need a dedicated doctor like yourself. Maevis can be saved! She won't need you to keep her safe, but there are people who do need you to live," Tom called after me, but I ignored him. I wasn't going to give up Maevis, I just wasn't.


15 September, 2154

As the weeks passed, we lost more patients, but there were plenty who were able to be treated and then transferred to a hospital that could accommodate their new status, making room for patients who were still being affected by the radiation of the bomb that had been dropped on Glasgow. Photographs and videos had flooded the news channels and social media throughout the world of a historic city such as Glasgow - the same city where William Wallace had been captured nearly a thousand years before - having been destroyed.

The next wave of patients came, this time accompanied by Maidie, who embraced me tightly when she arrived. "God, it's been so hard," she told me. "I've been trying to distract myself with saving lives, but they keep dying and then I remember that I'll probably never even find Don's body…"

"Oh, Maidie, I'm so sorry, a charaid ," I told her. "Here, let's take a brief break, go te my place fer a bit. School's back in and Maevis has gone back. Are Rory and Morgan with ye?"

"I… I left them with my friend back in Llangefni," Maidie replied softly.

"We'll get them here right away, we'll see te them. Now's not a time fer ye te be without yer bairns," I told her, leading her out of the hospital and to my car. I drove us home in silence, Maidie resting her fair, curly head against her hand. Her hair had been cut shorter and tied back in a low ponytail, likely to keep it from interfering with her work. When we arrived at the house, she froze, unwilling to get out of the car. "Maidie?" I asked her.

"Don helped to rebuild this house…" she said quietly.

"Aye, he did," I said softly. "Come wi' me. We'll go someplace else." I got back in the car and instead, we drove down to the docks, where I had a sailboat in the water for when Maevis and I would go sailing in the Bàgh a' Chaisteil during the summer. Maidie quietly climbed into the boat, and I set sail for the ruins of Cìosamul Castle, now anglicised to Kisimul Castle.

"The castle?" she asked me quietly when we arrived. "Why?"

"Because no one's been here since the bombin'," I told her, climbing out and helping her out. "When I lived here, I climbed onto this dock many times. I dinnae think it's the same, but it feels it." Maidie didn't say anything as I led her into the courtyard of the castle, sitting down on a stone bench that had been there for centuries. "This place holds a lot of memories… including memories I shared wi' Jamie."

"You don't have to talk about him if it hurts too much," Maidie told me softly, not looking at me.

"I think I need to," I told her. "Jamie and I met… shortly after I went through the stones. He and the men he was with took me with them. Two weeks later, I wed him, on the seventeenth of April. He was charmin', and handsome… He had red curly hair, and beautiful blue eyes. Maevis has his eyes. They're slanted, like his were… His full name was James Alexander Malcom Mackenzie Fraser, and he was a wonderful man. I was verra happily married te him. He was such a devoted father… He loved our bairns, all of them. He loved Maevis so much, he sent me away so I could protect her. I had… another child wi' him… Not the one that was born still. His name was… Brian. Named after Jamie's father. He… He was Archie's twin brother. It was Cailean who helped me te deliver them." Maidie glanced briefly at me, raising her eyebrow.

"Cailean?" she asked me, and I nodded.

"Aye, he was there with me. He was alive and well. He… He became a father, too, te two verra bonny bairns named Cillian and Caoimhe," I replied.

"I'm sure they were," Maidie replied, smiling softly.

"Brian died when he was six months auld… It was verra hard on me, and Jamie was there fer me, as much as he could be. And more fer the followin' seven years. The reason I'm finally tellin' ye aboot him is that… Maidie, what yer goin' through, losin' Don… I ken what that feels like. I ken what it is te… not want te be in a place that was occupied by him, that was full of his life and his laughter. I… I cannae bring myself te go te Lallybroch, Jamie's childhood home… We used it as a temporary headquarters durin' the second rebellion," I explained, and she nodded.

"I loved Don, very much… I'm sure you loved Jamie the same way," she told me softly and quietly. "And Maevis will never know him… same as Morgan will never know her father. She's just… too young."

"A part of her will always ken," I said. "Maevis, she grew up with Tom and she adores him, but… I believe she feels tha' she doesnae have that kinship with Tom as she does with me." Maidie nodded gently before she met my eyes and smiled gently.

"Thank you for telling me about him. It's a comfort knowing you know what this feels like," she told me. "Did… Did Tom mention to you about… sending Maevis away?"

"Aye, he did, and I'm not doin' it," I replied. "She's the last piece of Jamie I have, I cannae just… send her away! Well, all I have, save fer this ring…" I held out my right hand to look down at the wedding band Jamie had placed on my hand, unable and unwilling to take it off. Maidie took my hand in hers and admired the beautiful silvery Celtic interlacing.

"It's a very beautiful ring… I thought the same when he mentioned to me about doing the same with Rory and Morgan. They're all I have left of Don, but that means that I need to take better care of them. Cat, you didn't see the bomb zone for yourself… There were single parents with children that were all they had left of their deceased spouses, too… We found the bodies of so many children. If Alexander can do something this devastating… I want to do everything I can to prevent my own children from becoming one of those bodies, and I know Don would want that, too. Don't you think Jamie would want that?" Maidie asked me, forcing me to pause and think. It was like she'd met Jamie and knew what he wanted, or even spoke to him somehow; I let out a heavy sigh.

"He's done that already… He… He'd likely be verra angry with me fer not thinkin' of doin' it myself," I replied solemnly. "But I just… cannae help that fer once, I want te be selfish. I want te think of myself and keep Maevis with me."

"But you aren't like that, are you, ffrind ?" Maidie asked me, and I shook my head. "No… With your skills, you could save so many lives."

"And I'd likely not be helpin' Maevis much by keepin' her where Richard Randall could get te her," I said, and then I let out a sigh. "I just… dinnae ken how I could say goodbye. Will she even understand? What if this goes on fer years? What if I… What if I die?"

"That won't happen, Cat! If I know anything about you, it's that you are far too stubborn to die," Maidie told me, giving me a kind smile. "I don't want to send my children away, either, but… it's for the best. We don't know what the future will hold, but at least, if they're sent away, we can be sure that their futures are secured."

"Aye… Aye, yer right," I said, not meeting her eye. "I just… I dinnae ken how I'll find the strength."

"You don't need to find it, Cat. You already have it," Maidie told me. "Come on, then… We're needed in hospital."


17 March 1757

Cìosamul Castle, Isle of Barra, Scotland

CAILEAN POV

At Cìosamul Castle, there was a St. Patrick's Day celebration, perfectly timed with Captain Reynolds's visit to England. He'd left an Irish corporal, Corporal Thomas O'Rourke, behind to ensure that Cailean followed the rules of his house arrest, but being Irish himself, Corporal O'Rourke was only too happy to join in on the celebrations. Saoirse, however, had turned in early, and when Cailean noticed, his and Saoirse's bedchamber was the first place he looked. "Sersh? Are ye all right?" Cailean called into the room, looking for his wife, when his attention was drawn by a cough to the separate room where the copper bathtub was located. He knocked subtly on the closed door. "Saoirse? Are ye well?"

"I… I'm fine, just… a little nauseous," she answered him a bit weakly.

"Do ye want me te send fer Thora?" Cailean asked her.

"No… No, I'll be fine, just… Go and enjoy the festivities," Saoirse replied.

"No, lass, I cannae do that when I ken yer so unwell," Cailean told her. "Can I come in?" He heard the sound of her vomiting and took that as an invite, so in he went and found her bent over a bucket. "Oh, mo ghràidh ," he said, sitting down beside her and rubbing her back. He raised a hand to touch her clammy forehead, noticing that it was warm. "Yer in a fever. I'll be sendin' fer Thora."

"No, Cailean, please," Saoirse replied tiredly. "I… I dinna need anything, just… maybe a bit of ginger tea, like yer sister made when I was carryin' the weans."

"Ginger tea? Aye, I can send fer that," Cailean replied, immediately jumping up to make his way back to the corridor, but when he was halfway to the door, he froze, then returned to the side room; leaning against one hand on the doorframe. "Wait… Ye… Ye dinnae mean te say that…" he began to say, and she looked up at him and gave him a weak, but happy grin.

"I've not had my courses in weeks," she said. "I think it'll be… two months now?"

"But… isnae it dangerous? Cat said ye… ye'd likely need another bairn cut out of ye… We've been careful! Ye've been on the herbs and… and I've been pullin' out…" Cailean cried, concern laced in his voice.

"Oh, quit actin' the maggot," Saoirse told him tiredly. "I'll be… I'll be fine. Thora knows what she's doing. Everything will be fine."

"I sure hope so, but I cannae help but be concerned," Cailean replied. "A bairn… We're havin' another bairn."

"Aye," Saoirse replied with a smile. "We are."


Summer 1757

ARCHIE POV

Scribbling away at a letter to his mother on the desk in the old room that she had once occupied, Archie enjoyed the solitude. ' Brèagha just made me sit for yet another portrait. I wish she would use someone else as her subject, as I am tired of seeing my eyes in different sizes or my nose larger than it should be,' he wrote. Archie was thirteen years old at this point, while his sister was ten, and she had taken on painting for a hobby. Archie, on the other hand, found himself struggling to find a way to entertain himself. He had tried music with Cousin Liùsaidh when he was younger, but after Cousin Beitiris died a few years prior, she found it hard to be passionate about her instruments. He had also given painting a try, but he just didn't have the same skills as Brèagha when it came to mixing colours. He'd tried medicine as well, spending a day with Mrs. Thora Fowlis, but it didn't capture his interest the same way it once had for his mother. He was, however, an excellent sailor, and he was relatively skilled with horses - same as his father had been.

Archie let out a heavy sigh, resting his hand on his chin and his elbow on the surface of the desk. He hadn't heard from his father in six and a half years. Was he even alive? He'd written a couple of times to Aunt Jenny, but she never made any mention of him, despite Archie asking her specifically - but she had mentioned that there was an English captain in the vicinity, so if his father was there, she wasn't going to mention him in a letter. No father, no mother… Only Uncle Cailean, Auntie Saoirse, Auntie Maisie, Cousin Alasdair, Cousin Seàrlas and Grandsire to keep his mind busy. A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts, and he let out a huff.

"Brèagha, I'm no' interested in another portrait just now," he called to the door, his once childlike, high-pitched voice having faded with puberty. It wasn't quite a baritone and frequently cracked, but his voice was well on its way to hitting a lower pitch like his father's.

"I'm not your sister, dear boy," said the English accent on the other side, and Archie raised an eyebrow.

"Captain Reynolds?" Archie asked. What did he want? Ever since he was young, Captain Reynolds had been a thorn in the side of his grandfather, his mother, his uncle, and the rest of Clan Fowlis, and his presence annoyed Archie despite the man never personally offending him. Archie got up from the desk and answered the door, brushing a red curl out of his grey eyes to meet those of Captain Reynolds. "Is somethin' the matter, sir?"

"Not at all," said Captain Reynolds strangely nonchalantly. "I have simply come to invite you and your cousins to learn how to shoot."

"I thought weapons were banned fer Scots?" Archie asked him suspiciously.

"Aye, so they are," said Captain Reynolds. "Still. I have only daughters, and would have enjoyed teaching a son the skills of a gun. I have known you and your cousin since you were very small."

"What does my uncle say? Aboot Cillian and Calum learnin' te shoot," Archie asked him.

"Your uncle thinks it is a fine idea," said Captain Reynolds, probably lying. "Your cousins are already excited to learn, but I told them I would not teach them unless you were there by their side. I would hate to disappoint them." Archie let out a soft huff - so basically, the decision was already made up for him.

"Verra well," he replied, following Captain Reynolds to the battlements, which overlooked the bay and pointed them in the direction of Vatersay.

"Has your father ever let you shoot before?" Captain Reynolds asked Archie, Calum and Cillian, and little Cillian - who wasn't all that little at nine years old - shook his head.

"No, sir, but I've seen Auntie Cat practice archery," Cillian squeaked out.

"I… I not hold a gun before," Calum replied, the remnants of his Dutch accent still poking through the Scottish one he was starting to develop.

"I was verra young when Culloden happened, sir," Archie told Reynolds. "I didnae see my father again until after the Acts of Proscription were passed."

"I see. So you've never had the chance to hold one of these?" Captain Reynolds asked, placing a pistol in Archie's hands. Was this man insane? Giving a lad who openly disliked and distrusted him a weapon? The guards behind them with their own muskets reminded him that no, this man wasn't daft - he was testing Archie, daring him to try something foolish. "Go on. Point it out at sea and give it a fire." Still suspicious as to why Captain Reynolds was doing this, Archie did as he was told, listening to Reynolds as he instructed Archie on how to hold the pistol, how to aim with it, and then how to fire without much kickback. The bang of the gun almost made Archie jump, not having expected the gun to be so loud. "Not bad, if I do not say so myself. You will make a fine soldier someday."

"A soldier?" Archie asked him, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, yes. There is talk about unrest in the colonies. There may come a day when the King's subjects will be called upon to protect what is rightfully his," Captain Reynolds replied as he took back the pistol and loaded it again.

"I… I'm not a soldier," Archie said to him.

"No? Your father was, and I believe your mother was awfully skilled with a weapon, for a woman," Captain Reynolds replied. "It sounds to me like you would be a fit soldier."

"I wanna try!" Cillian cried impatiently.

"Here you are, dear boy," said Captain Reynolds, giving Cillian the gun, and Cillian excitedly pointed it over the top of the battlement.

" Bidh faicheallach! " Archie hissed at him as he stepped backwards, nearly stepping on Calum. "It's not a toy, Cillian!"

"Yer no' my father!" Cillian said to him, sticking out his little tongue.

"No, but I am!" came Uncle Cailean's voice, and all three lads turned around to see Cailean at the door to the tower, how brow scrunched up in annoyance. "Cillian, put that down right this second. Carefully ."

"I'll take it," Archie said, taking the pistol from his cousin and giving it back to Captain Reynolds.

"What the hell is goin' on up here, Captain?" Uncle Cailean demanded from Captain Reynolds.

"I was just teaching these three young boys how to shoot, and I was just saying to your nephew how he would make a very skilled soldier someday," Reynolds replied to Cailean rather smugly.

"He'll no' be a soldier. His mother would never allow it," Cailean spat back at him.

"I do not see his mother anywhere," said Captain Reynolds. "Besides, your nephew is nigh on thirteen years of age and he has not been taught to shoot."

"The lad was scarcely three years auld when the English took away all our weapons. Ye cannae expect us te teach our lads how te shoot if we arenae allowed te discharge any weapons," Cailean spat back at him. "I'll thank ye te stop. The sound of the gun is distressin' my wife, and she has a history of difficult pregnancies. I'll thank ye te not cause a miscarriage."

"Oh, you must forgive me, Mr. Fowlis. I was not aware Mrs. Fowlis was expecting," said Reynolds with mock sympathy.

"Aye, she is. Due in September, so I'll thank ye te keep the gunfire te a minimum until then," Cailean told him. "Though the verra thought of her own son holdin' a weapon would send her into early labour. Come, lads, inside ye get. It'll be lunchtime anyway."

"Yes, Uncle," said Archie, giving Cillian a shove and urging Calum to follow him. He glanced back to see a fierce stare between Reynolds and Cailean.

"Scotland's next generation of soldiers will be illiterate in war," he heard Reynolds say as he led his cousins inside. "Suppose that's a good thing."


21 September, 1757

CAILEAN POV

"I've just been informed this mornin' of a law that I didnae ken of before," said Eairdsidh Ruadh to Cailean in the Laird's study, having summoned him early that morning. "Evidently, ye cannae take on yer rightful role as Laird of this estate upon my death if ye arenae pardoned."

"Please, Grandsire, no mention of death. No' this close te Saoirse's due date," Cailean said to him. He had grown more and more increasingly nervous as Saoirse's due date drew nearer and nearer, and now, the bairn was due at any moment. For the entirety of her pregnancy, she had been ill, confined to her bed for most of the time while Cailean did his best to keep an eye on the children.

"It is somethin' ye must consider, lad. I'll no' be around forever. Everra day, I grow aulder and aulder," Eairdsidh Ruadh told him, and Cailean let out a huff.

"Do ye think me incapable of figurin' out shite fer myself, Grandsire? I'm thirty-four now, I'd say I'm fairly grown," Cailean said to him, and Eairdsidh Ruadh gave him a look as if to say, 'seriously?' "Dinnae answer that."

"I worry aboot ye, laddie. If yer sister were here, I'd trust that the castle and the clan wouldnae fall into the wrong hands-" the Laird began, and this very statement pissed Cailean off. He turned around and slammed his palms down onto the desk, startling his grandfather.

"Well, she's not here, is she, damn it? What must ye think of me if ye think I am so incapable of bein' Laird? Why did ye make me yer heir, then, if ye dinnae trust me? Why not make Archie yer heir? Clearly, ye think him capable, ye tell him everra day how like his mother he is! How mature and grown he is, like she was… Well, I'll tell ye this. She had te grow up. She was fifteen when our parents died, she had no choice, but what ye forget is that I was still but a lad myself," Cailean told him, lowering his voice as he spoke, and he turned and began to pace across the floor. "Everraone forgets that I was just a lad, too… They applaud Cat fer gettin' her and myself out of Barra safely and growin' up while she was still a lass, but I had te grow up, too. So what if I sometimes like te retain just a wee bit of the childhood that I was robbed of when my parents were killed? Everraone forgets that I was there, too, that I saw the brains of my brothers and my parents bein' splattered against the ground, too."

"Cailean, I… I didnae mean te imply ye… werenae capable of bein' Laird," Eairdsidh Ruadh said rather meekly. "Ye… Ye've done well fer yerself, lad. Ye've a wife, and three bonny bairns, and ye did well, gettin' Archie and Brèagha back here safely. I just… I worry aboot ye. Yer father had a verra similar attitude, when he was younger, and I lost him fer good."

"Aye… I suppose it's easy te forget that while I lost my father, ye lost yer son, even if ye didnae see it," Cailean replied quietly. "I couldnae imagine the pain of… kennin' my child had died, even if all I did was hear of it. Not te mention, he died in another century. Ye cannae visit his grave, ye cannae see him. It's like he's just… a myth, loosely based on reality." Cailean turned again to face his grandfather, sharing a similar face to the aging man, who was now sixty-nine years old and possessed snow white hair. In two years' time, Eairdsidh Ruadh would be dead, and the very thought of his impending death sent a shock to his heart and gut. For years, he had been guided by his grandfather, the closest thing to a father figure that Cailean had had since he was thirteen, and soon, he would be gone. There was no time for such trivial arguments. "I'm sorry, Grandsire, I didnae mean te snap. I promise ye… I will do right by ye. I'll take care of this castle and of this clan."

"I ken ye will, lad," Eairdsidh told him, approaching Cailean to take his hand and give it a light pat. "Ye are yer father's son, and yer more capable than you or I or anyone gives ye credit fer."

"Daddy! Daddy!" Cailean suddenly heard echoing in the corridor, and both Cailean and Eairdsidh Ruadh turned as the door swung open and little Caoimhe, her golden hair springing loose from its plait, appeared in the doorway. "Daddy! Mama sent me te tell ye the bairn is comin'!"

"The bairn?" Cailean exclaimed, looking at his grandfather with wide and frightened eyes.

"Go, lad," Eairdsidh Ruadh told him, and Cailean ran out of the study, Caoimhe on her heels. Once they were outside of Cailean and Saoirse's bedchamber, Cailean stopped and glanced down at his daughter, noticing that Brèagha, Archie, Cillian and Calum were all there as well.

"Is it time, Uncle Cailean?" Brèagha asked, her eyes widening when she heard Saoirse's moan on the other side of the door.

"Aye… So it seems te be… Caoimhe, a leannan , stay here, all right?" Cailean said to his daughter, who stubbornly stamped her foot and crossed her arms.

"No! I want te be with Mama!" she said stubbornly, sticking out her bottom lip in a pout.

"No, lass, ye'll just be in the way. Mama needs te concentrate on havin' the bairn safely and she needs peace and quiet," Cailean told her.

"But I will be quiet! I promise!" Caoimhe whined, but Cailean shook his head.

"No," he said with finality. "Archie, keep an eye on yer cousin, please."

"Yes, Uncle," said Archie as Cailean went into the room, finding Thora, much plumper than she had been a few years before from having so many children, already with Saoirse and accompanied by her oldest daughter, Caitlin, who was eight years old and already apprenticing as a future midwife along with her mother.

"Oh, Cailean!" Saoirse cried out, reaching a hand out to him. She was very pale and feverish, sweat dripping down her forehead and soaking her shift and her blonde hair.

"I'm here, mo ghaol , I'm here," he told her, grasping her hand and giving it a kiss, then turning his attention to Thora. "How's everrathin'?"

"Movin' smoothly fer now. I believe we've already been in labour fer several hours," Thora replied. "Caitie, would ye mind fetchin' the stethoscope?"

"Yes, Mam," said wee Caitlin, doing as her mother said.

"Ye… Ye have that one trained well," said Saoirse weakly. "Would ye mind… training mine?" Thora chuckled gently.

"Caitlin is more meek and obedient, like I am, but Caoimhe is so much like her father," Thora said, giving Cailean a smile and accepting the stethoscope from her daughter. She then lifted Saoirse's shift and pressed one end of the stethoscope, which was more of a long metal tube, against her belly, listening for a heartbeat.

"I… I hope there's… just the one… this time," Saoirse puffed out.

"I'm only hearin' one heartbeat this time," Thora told her kindly. "And it's not nearly as strong as I'd like it… I suspect the cord's wrapped 'round its neck."

"Oh… What… What can we… do?" Saoirse asked her.

"Encourage this wee bairn te come out faster," Thora replied.

"What, tha's it?" Cailean demanded. "Didnae Cat teach ye how te… cut a bairn out?"

"Aye, she did, but we dinnae have enough time te go and fetch the sweet vitriol," Thora told him.

"Oh, I… I think my waters… have gone…" Saoirse said, interrupting them, and Thora pulled back the sheets to confirm, only to find a massive bloodstain on the sheets. As soon as Cailean saw it, he felt faint, the blood draining from his face. That was so much blood that had come out of Saoirse, how… How could she survive that?

"Caitie, fetch the forceps and the scalpel," Thora said more urgently to her daughter.

"Cailean…" Saoirse muttered quietly. "Wait, please… I… I want to… say goodbye… to the children…"

"Yer not sayin' goodbye te anyone, Saoirse. Ye stop that now," Cailean told her, regaining his strength and giving her hand a squeeze. "Yer not goin' te die, yer not allowed."

"Still, I… want te see… the children…" Saoirse said, and Cailean glanced up at Thora and Caitlin.

"Can she? Before ye do anythin'?" Cailean asked Thora.

"Quickly," she replied, and Cailean got up immediately to fetch Archie and Brèagha first, wanting the older children to set an example for the younger ones.

"Auntie, are ye well?" Archie asked Saoirse once he was beside her, and she smiled at him, gently touching his face.

"Aye, I'll be fine… a buachaill rua ," Saoirse told him, calling him 'red-haired lad' in Irish. "Lookin' at ye… is like… seein' yer mother again."

"Ye'll see me again, Auntie. Ye have te," Archie said, his lower voice cracking into a higher pitch.

"Auntie, dinnae be sad," Brèagha told her, embracing Saoirse's shoulders.

"Oh, wee lassie… Yer my favourite… painter of all time… Do ye know that?" Saoirse said to her niece.

"I havenae painted Ireland fer ye, Auntie. I'll do it now, I promise ye. Ye'll love it," Brèagha told her, and Saoirse gave her a soft smile.

"I bet I will… Ye'll have te… Get right on that…" Saoirse said to her softly. "Yer Auntie… loves both of ye…"

"We love ye, too, Auntie," Brèagha told her. "Mama said that, before she left. Are ye leavin', too, Auntie? Please dinnae leave!"

"Oh, Christ," Cailean muttered, having to wipe a tear from his eye. Of all people in the room, he needed to be the strong one for each of the five children that loved Saoirse. "Come on, ye two. Let's give yer cousins a chance te see yer Auntie…" Brèagha and Archie both gave Saoirse a kiss on the cheek before hopping off of the bed, Archie whispering a quiet 'goodbye, Auntie, rest well' before he left. Cailean then brought in his own children, who all climbed up on the bed with Saoirse.

"Mama, is the bairn hurtin' ye?" Cillian asked her.

"Oh, no, mo stór … Everrathin' will be fine," Saoirse told her son, brushing a brown curl out of his green eyes.

"Is the bairn still in yer belly, Mama?" Caoimhe chimed in, touching Saoirse's still firm belly.

"Aye, it is," said Saoirse quietly.

"I hope it's a wee sister. I have enough brothers already!" Caoimhe replied, making Saoirse laugh, and Cailean began to see the blankets covering her legs staining red.

"We have te hurry," Thora said somewhat urgently.

"Cillian… Caoimhe… Calum…" Saoirse muttered, closing her eyes and trying to hug all three of them. "Yer Mama loves ye all…. dinna… ever… forget that…"

"I love ye, too, Mama," said Cillian as he started to cry.

"Shhh, mo ghille mear … Dinna cry," Saoirse told him, wiping his tears away with her thumb. "No matter… what happens… I'll always… be with ye… always…"

"I… I love you, Mama," said Calum, tears forming in his own eyes.

"I… love ye, too… wee Calum… Ye've been… such a… blessin'…" Saoirse replied, her voice becoming progressively weaker.

"Cailean," Thora said with a slightly urgent tone in his voice.

"All right, a' chlann , let's give Mama time te rest," Cailean said to them, urging the two lads out, but Caoimhe stubbornly clung to her mother sobbing.

"No! No, Mama, I'll no' leave ye!" she cried out.

"Shhh, mo chailín álainn … my… beautiful girl… Just… have a look… in the mirror… and ye'll see I'll… always be… with ye…" Saoirse told her weakly. "Go with yer father… He'll take… good care of ye…"

"I love ye, Mama. So much," Caoimhe said as she hugged her mother tightly one last time, and then she allowed Cailean to usher her out.

"Cailean," Saoirse muttered as Thora began to get to work on delivering the bairn.

"I'll have te cut it out," he heard Thora mutter quietly to Caitlin as he bent down near Saoirse.

"I… I love ye…" she whispered to him.

"I love ye, too, mo chridhe… Yer my heart and soul, everra ounce… I cannae imagine my life without ye… Must ye go?" Cailean begged her, and she weakly raised a hand to touch his face.

"Ye'll… be fine… Yer strong, Cailean… I want ye… te… find someone… that makes ye… happy…"

"No one will ever make me as happy as ye have," Cailean told her, kissing her hand.

"Well… try…" she replied, smiling weakly. "Dinna bury me… I… I've always… been afraid of… dark places… I want ye te… burn me… Spread my… ashes… Some here… Some in… Ireland…"

"It's illegal te cremate someone, my love. Ye ken that," Cailean told her.

"I dinna… care… Find a way…" she replied. "Kiss me… Cailean…" Honouring her request, he stood up to hover over her and pressed his lips against hers, then rested his forehead against hers.

"Go te sleep… Nothin' will hurt ye in yer sleep… I promise I'll take care of the bairns, all of them. Ye have… nothin' te worry aboot," Cailean told her, fighting off the tears in his eyes.

"I knew I… wouldna," she muttered, meeting his silvery eyes with her green ones and smiling at him. Her lips were already turning purple and her face was so pale. "Ye… Ye'll be a… good Laird… it's a shame that… ye'll do it… without me… It's so… warm… and I… I'm so tired…"

" Cadal, mo ghràidh ," Cailean told her, encouraging her to sleep, and those gorgeous green eyes, once so full of love and life, closed, and her chest rose and fell for the very last time. For a moment, it seemed that the whole world had gone silent when Saoirse took her last breath, and when her heart gave its last beat. As if it were far away, Cailean could hear the faint cries of a newborn baby, but Cailean couldn't bring himself to look. Where the sun had once shown filled with a dark void, cold and lonely as his soulmate left him behind. Would his heart have the strength to beat when hers did no longer?


28 September, 1757

ARCHIE POV

It had been a week since Auntie Saoirse had died. The bairn was born healthy - a little girl - but she didn't yet have a name. Cillian, Caoimhe, Brèagha and Calum were all inconsolable, and Grandsire simply didn't feel it was right to bother any of them. He offered comfort where he could, but when he had lost his own mother, he didn't want to be bothered, and when he had lost the love of his life, he didn't leave the place where she had died, either. The wet nurse hired by Grandsire took on the care of the bairn, but all the child did was cry and cry. She longed for her mother, who lay cold in the chapel, and she longed for her father, who refused to see her. Like Archie and Brèagha, she had been born with red curly hair, and she had Auntie Saoirse's beautiful green eyes. She was small, but still sizeable, and she was one of the prettiest bairns Archie had ever set eyes on.

"He needs te decide soon," Grandsire said to Archie in the nursery, resting his hand on the bairn's wee belly. "Saoirse cannae stay in the chapel forever. He's not left his room."

"Ms. Thora said she wanted te be burned," said Archie, and Grandsire raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Burnin' a corpse is verra much looked down upon… but if it's what she wanted, I dinnae wish te deny her that request," said Grandsire. "We'll have te do it when Reynolds isnae near. Thank Christ he's got sense enough te leave us be durin' this difficult time."

"Do ye think Uncle Cailean will name the bairn? What'll happen if he doesnae?" Archie asked his grandsire.

"I suppose we'll have te give the weeun a name if he doesnae, but I dinnae wish te take that from him," Grandsire replied. "I just wish he'd look at the wee lass at least once." Hearing Grandsire say that gave Archie an idea. When the bairn was left alone for a nap, Archie gently lifted her from her bassinet and cradled her in his arms.

"Shh, shh, wee cousin. Dinnae let anyone ken our plan," Archie said to the bairn when she began to fuss. Carefully, he carried her up to Cailean's bedchamber, quietly opening the door and letting in a stream of light. Cailean was seated on the bed facing the window with the curtains drawn, his long brown curls hanging loose and his head facing up as he stared at the window. Quietly, Archie closed the door behind him. "Uncle Cailean?" he asked. "Are ye… Are ye well?" For a long period of time, Cailean didn't answer him.

"No," he said after several moments. "No, lad, I'm… I'm not well…"

"Ye should… see the bairn, Uncle… She's verra bonny. She… She has her eyes," Archie told him, and Cailean bowed his head down, then began to shake as he sobbed.

"I cannae do this, laddie… I just cannae," he said, burying his face in his hands. "This is… devastation in its purest form… How can I go on without her? She… She was the love of my life, my soul mate… and now she's gone…"

"Ye just have te, Uncle. It's the only way," Archie replied. "Though I… was verra young… I have verra vague memories of when… my mother thought… Da was lost te us… She was verra devastated, thought she couldnae go on, but… she found a way. Fer us - Brèagha and me. Now, ye've got Cillian and Caoimhe, and Calum as well and now this wee bairn. They all need ye, Uncle. They have te be yer reason." Cailean fell silent, then replied with a sigh.

"Aye, lad… Yer right," he said. "Ye've the wisdom of yer mother, ye ken that?"

"Grandsire tells me so all the time," Archie replied, approaching Cailean with the bairn in his arms. She began to cry, drawing Cailean's attention up to the lass.

"Oh," he muttered, standing up and taking the bairn from Archie's arms. "Oh, look at ye, my puir wee lass… Yer Daddy's not been verra good te ye, has he?" He lifted the bundle to his lips and delicately kissed her forehead. "Look at ye… Ye have yer auntie's hair…"

"She needs a name, still, Uncle," Archie told him, watching as Cailean made his way to the window and pulled back the drapes, letting some light into the room so he could see his daughter's face.

"Aye, she does," said Cailean, meeting his daughter's bonny green eyes. "Catrìona, fer yer auntie… We'll call ye 'Riona' fer short… How do ye like that, wee Riona?" Cailean asked her, and she made a small gurgling noise. Archie smiled as he watched his uncle bond with his newborn daughter.

"I think she likes it verra much, Uncle," Archie told him.

"Aye, I think she does," Cailean replied. The final name that he settled on was Catrìona Saoirse Freyja Fowlis, naming her after the three strongest women that he knew of, he said. Saoirse, too, was cremated, and made Archie promise to bring some of her ashes to Ireland if Cailean failed to do so.


19 October, 2154

Inverness Airport, Scotland

CATRÌONA POV

It was one of the hardest moments of my life, having to say goodbye to Maevis for what was very likely the last time. This time, I wasn't sending Maevis off to school in her little plaid dress with her hair in two plaits with bows at the ends of them - no, this time, I was sending Maevis away to live with some stranger, bearing a name that didn't even belong to her. Rory and Morgan would be living with her and they would get to keep their names, but Tom advised me to have Maevis's name changed to make it more difficult for Richard Randall to find her.

"Ye need te be a good lass, all right?" I said to my daughter, trying not to cry in front of her.

"But why?" Maevis asked me. "Why cannae I stay? I dinnae want te leave!"

"I know, hen, but ye must. It's fer yer safety. If I could keep ye here with me, I would," I told her.

"But Mama is going to save a lot of lives, and you can live safely in America along with Rory and Morgan," Tom chimed in, but Maevis only pouted in response.

"Why do they need you te do it, Mama?" Maevis asked me.

"Because Mama is a verra good doctor, hen. I'm goin' te train others te be good doctors like me, so other lads and lasses can go home te their Mams and Dads," I told her. "I wish ye could stay… but I'll not risk havin' ye in danger." A tear ran down her rounded cheek, and I raised a thumb up to wipe it away. "Dinnae fash… No matter what, I'll always be with ye, a leannan . All ye have te do is look in the mirror and there I am," I told her with a soft chuckle.

"But… But the mirror cannae talk te me, Mama, nor can it sing te me or hug me," Maevis replied.

"I ken, hen… Someday, I'll hold ye again, and I'll sing te ye, and I'll kiss those bonny wee cheeks and run my fingers through this bonny red hair," I replied, pulling her into my arms for a tight embrace. "Oh, here, I want ye te have this." I reached into the pouch that I had brought with me and pulled out Cailean's tartan, unfolding it a bit and wrapping it around her shoulders. "It was yer Uncle Cailean's. An authentic Fowlis of Barra tartan." Maevis gasped when she saw it on her.

"It's so big!" she exclaimed, and I chuckled.

"Aye, well, yer Uncle wore it like a great kilt. I'll be expectin' ye te take verra good care of it," I told her, and then I let out a soft sigh. "I love ye so much, Maevis… Dinnae ever forget that…"

"I willnae, Mama. I love ye, too," she replied, sniffling.

"And I love you, too, sweetheart," Tom told her, bending down to attempt to embrace us both. "Remember, your name in America will be Eleanor Victoria Murray…" I stepped out of it so Tom could have his moment with her while I bid goodbye to Rory and Morgan, and then it was time for the children to board the plane. I had to viciously fight back the tears as I watched Maevis, with her little backpack on her shoulders and Cailean's tartan wrapped around her, turning around to look at me one last time before she was ushered into the plane, and then she was gone. The moment those doors closed, I collapsed onto the ground and broke down into tears, Tom comforting me by rubbing my back. "It's all right, Cat… You did the right thing," he told me, but it was not what I wanted to hear.

Now, with Maevis gone, and Jamie, Archie, Brèagha and Cailean all dead for four hundred years… I was truly alone, and about to enter yet another unknown future.