1 October, 1766
Edinburgh, Scotland
ARCHIE POV
"I did not , ye damn fool!" Archie snapped at Fergus playfully, who laughed at and teased him. "I swear it! My first time was a lass at the brothel!"
"Julia say she bedded you," Fergus said to him with a laugh. The two fully grown men, thirty-one and twenty-two, rode together on a wagon bearing supplies for A. Malcolm's print shop, the business that Archie and his father operated together. Fergus stayed away from it, as he was involved in the other illegal side of their trade - the smuggling of liquor and French wine into the country to avoid the high tariffs. They had just come from Glasgow, as their competitors bought out all of the supplies in Edinburgh, and were about to cross the South Bridge when suddenly, Archie felt a strange urge to urinate.
"Hold just a moment, I need te pish," he said, stopping the horses and hopping down from the wagon.
"Hurry up! Milord will be waiting for us," Fergus told him, and Archie scoffed as he followed the path down beneath the bridge.
"Yeah, yeah, ye cack-handed frog," Archie teased him, finding a good place well out of view of Fergus for him to undo his breeks and pull out his cock. He relieved himself against the stone of the bridge, and after he finished and was tucking himself away, he heard a soft groan, causing him to jump in alarm. "The hell?" He buttoned his breeks and followed the groan, freezing when he saw, lying on the ground, the limp body of a brown-haired woman dressed in… strange clothes… But what was even stranger was the fact that she was covered in a Fowlis of Barra tartan. "Er… Hello? Are ye well, ma'am?" The woman didn't answer him, so carefully, Archie approached her, glancing around to see if anyone had dumped her here. "I… I see yer wearin' a Fowlis of Barra tartan… I'm kin, ye ken. My mother was a Fowlis of Barra, and I grew up there… I'm the nephew of the Laird. Ye can get it into a lot of trouble fer wearin' a tartan…" The woman didn't answer him. "…ma'am?" He knelt down next to her body and moved the tartan from her face, letting out a gasp and jumping away when he thought, for a moment, that he saw the face of his mother. But his mother had red hair, not brown, and she was dead! Or in the colonies… Either way, this woman couldn't be his mother! No… No, he was just seeing things… He slowly approached her again to roll her onto her back and removed the tartan again, letting out another soft gasp. "My God… My God, it… It's you…" Archie felt tears stinging his eyes when he realised that this indeed was his mother - she was the right age, the right height, and she even had the scar on her neck that she claimed she had gotten during the uprising. It had faded over the years, but it was the same scar. "Oh, Mama…" He pulled the tartan away, suddenly alarmed by the amount of blood that was covering her abdomen. "Shit… Fergus! Fergus! Get down here!"
"What do you call me for?" Fergus demanded as he made his way down to where Archie was, and then he froze when he saw what Archie was kneeling down next to. "Is that… Milady?"
"It is! She's hurt!" said Archie, and suddenly, he felt her move on her own beneath him, giving another soft groan. "Mama? Mama! Are ye awake, Mama?"
"Who… What…" she breathed out quietly, and then Archie scooped her up into his arms, careful not to hurt her even further.
"We must get her home," Fergus told him.
"Help me get her into the wagon!" Archie exclaimed as Fergus ran back up ahead to make room, and Archie followed him up, placing his mother gently in the wagon and unwrapping her tartan from around her to lay it on top of her. "She's out again, hurry!" Fergus cracked the reins of the horse and then they were off, rushing across the bridge and then through the streets of Edinburgh.
"Move aside! Urgent!" Fergus shouted as people leapt out of the way as the wagon came careening by. Once the wagon turned onto Carfax Close, Fergus pulled it to an immediate stop, jumping out of the wagon and assisting Archie as he climbed down from the wagon with his mother in his arms.
"Go on ahead and get Da! I'm goin' te get her into a bed," Archie told him urgently, and Fergus nodded, running up the stairs two at a time and into the print shop. Archie followed with his mother cradled in his arms, careful not to fall, and pushed in through the door as Fergus urgently shouted down to Da, who was hard at work at the printing press while Archie made his way into the hallway leading to the stairs of the flat upstairs above the shop.
"Milord! It is Milady! She is injured!" Archie heard Fergus shout as he climbed the stairs, but Archie didn't stop and wait as he ran past Mistress MacCleary, startling her, and went straight into his father's bedroom, which was the closest, and laid his mother down onto the bed.
"Mama! Mama, ye'll be all right, yer safe now…" Archie told her unconscious form as he removed the blood-soaked tartan, grimacing at the wounds on her abdomen. "God, what happened te ye?"
"Archie!" Da's voice suddenly called, and then his pounding footsteps echoed off the walls before he appeared in the doorframe. "What the hell do ye mean-" Da froze in the doorframe when his eyes fell upon Mama's bleeding body on the bed, seemingly choked up as he realised that this indeed was his wife, and he slowly approached the bed.
"Where… Where did ye find her?" Da asked Archie quietly.
"Beneath the South Bridge," Archie replied. "Is she goin' te be okay, Da? Should I send fer a physician?"
"I already sent Fergus," Da replied, using one hand to brush Mama's now dark brown hair out of her face.
"Catrìona," Da muttered quietly. "What's happened te ye?" More footsteps, and then Mrs. MacCleary appeared in the doorframe.
"Is everrathin' all right?" she asked, and then she let out a shocked gasp. "My goodness! I'll boil some water!"
"Thank ye, Beth," Da said to her, not taking his eyes off of his wife. "Archie… I need ye te give us a moment."
"What?" Archie demanded. "No! Tha's my mother! I'm not leavin' her!"
"I need te change her into somethin' else and see what these wounds look like! Have some respect fer yer mother, lad!" Da scolded him, clearly in distress, and Archie, wiping an angry and frightened tear from his eye, let out a huff, then bent down to kiss Mama's head.
"I'll be back soon, Mama… I love ye," he said to her quietly, and then exchanging a glance with his father, silently left the room, closing the door behind him.
JAMIE POV
God… it was her. It was most definitely her! Catrìona… She was aulder, definitely, and her hair had been coloured a dark brown instead of her natural red, and concealing her eyes were a pair of spectacles with a bit of dried blood on them. But despite all these changes, this was his lass - his wife, his beloved Catrìona. God, what happened to her? Where did she come from? There was blood on her face running from her mouth, and her abdomen was positively soaked. "My darlin'… Mo chride … Please, dinnae leave me now…" Jamie muttered quietly, bending down to press his lips to her forehead, and then resting his forehead against hers. "I'm here… I'm here, mo nighean ruadh . I'll take care of ye… though I dinnae ken how."
He started by removing the vest she wore, made of a rather strangely thick material, and set it aside on a chair, then gently lifted her so he could remove the blood-soaked shirt, revealing two frightening-looking wounds and a strange piece of cloth concealing her breasts, also soaked in blood. He reached around her back to see if it was kept on by laces, but it was not, so he opted instead to pull it carefully off over her head. Unable to stop himself from glancing at her breasts, he was surprised to find them still perky and round, despite her age, but then he turned his attention back to her clothes. There were these strange sleeves on her arms and legs, so he removed those, and then removed the breeks she wore, which had this very strange contraption that moved up and down where buttons should be. Once she was naked, Jamie grasped the bowl of water and rag he'd used to wash his own face that morning to clean the blood off of her, pausing when he heard a knock at the door. "Mr. Fraser?" It was Beth.
"Come in," he said, resuming cleaning Catrìona up. He carefully avoided the wounds on her abdomen, finding another of her outer thigh, and Beth gasped when she saw them.
"Goodness… Is it really Mistress Fraser? What happened te her?" asked the woman, now in her mid to late thirties.
"I dinnae ken," Jamie replied. "Has the physician come?"
"He is at a troubled birth, sir," Beth replied, and Jamie let out a frustrated huff.
"And what aboot my wife? She could be dyin'!" Jamie exclaimed angrily. "Would ye mind fetchin' a bottle of the whisky? It's the purest alcohol we have."
"Oh, aye, sir. From Madame Jeanne's?" asked Beth, and Jamie nodded.
"Tell her it's fer me personally," Jamie told her as she left, and then he turned back to Catrìona, who was suddenly breathing heavier. "Catrìona? A ghràidh …" She surprised him by suddenly letting out a cry and grasping his shirt, pulling him closer to her with a strength that absolutely frightened him, given her state. "Christ!"
"Bag… Get… the bag… with the… red… cross…" she muttered to him in a strained tone, and Jamie nodded, releasing her hands from his shirt so he could dive into her things, finding the bag in question and being blocked by that same mysterious contraption that was on her breeks. "Give… give it here…"
"What are ye doin'?" Jamie asked her as he handed her the bag, and she weakly fumbled with it, pulling the tab to open the bag slowly and unfolding it to reveal more of those bright orange things that she had used both on his hand and on Saoirse, but she grabbed something else, pressing something on it and then plunging it into her abdomen. "Christ, Catrìona!" Jamie exclaimed with alarm, trying to stop her, but when she set it aside on the bed beside her, he saw that there was no new injury. "What've ye done?"
"St… stitch the wounds… I'll… I'll be f… fine… in a… few days… but stitch the wounds…" she told him breathlessly, squeezing her eyes shut as she grimaced from the pain.
"Should I fetch ye some laudanum?" Jamie asked her, and her expression morphed to show some confusion.
"I… I'd prefer… morphine… but… the nanomeds will… put me…" she muttered, and her eyes opened a little, revealing them to be very bloodshot, and then she closed them again, laying her head on the pillow and seemingly falling into a deep slumber.
"Catrìona? Catrìona! " Jamie exclaimed, lightly shaking her shoulders, but she was unconscious. He pressed his ear to her chest to listen for her heartbeat, finding it faint, but present. He lifted his head - nanomeds… That was what she called those things she injected into his hand. But she'd said they weren't enough for such extensive injuries, unless… unless she used a larger amount. He picked up the object she'd stabbed herself with, carefully avoiding the needle as he turned it over to examine it and finding a label:
NANOMEDS, 15 CC. TO BE USED ONLY BY TRAINED MEDICAL PROFESSIONALS. USE WITH DISCRETION. SIDE EFFECTS INCLUDE, BUT ARE NOT LIMITED TO: VOMITING, DIARRHEA, FEVER, PAIN AT INJECTION SITE, INFLAMMATION AND SWELLING, AND IN RARE CASES, ALLERGIC REACTION OR DEATH.
Good god, was Catrìona going to die? What if she did? Jamie couldn't stand to lose her after he'd only just gotten her back… What the hell happened to her? "Archie!" Jamie called. "Dinnae come in, but… Can ye run te the apothecary and fetch catgut thread?" Thankfully, Archie and Beth returned at the same time, and Beth assisted Jamie while he cleaned and stitched up Catrìona's wounds. There were four in total - one on her thigh, one of her side, one just beneath her ribcage and another on her back, which Jamie found when he realised there was blood on the sheets. Beth rubbed a salve on her bruises, and there were some fairly large ones the size of stones on her back.
"It looks as though she's been shot, Mr. Fraser," said Beth as she wiped up one of the sutures. "She's verra lucky. How did she survive this?"
"Because she's a strong lass," Jamie replied. "Would ye mind maybe fetchin' a shift fer her?"
"Oh, aye, sir," said Beth, getting up and rushing out of the room. Jamie sat down on the bed beside his wife, who still lay in a deep slumber, and took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips to kiss it.
"My bonny lass… Ye look as bonny as the day I saw ye last… Christ, I… I cannae believe yer truly here… How did ye get here? What happened te ye?" Jamie asked her, and then he let out a sigh, using his other hand to brush a brown piece of hair out of her eyes. " Mo nighean … Please, ye must get better." He bent down and pressed his lips to her forehead, then stood up and helped to dress her when Beth returned with a clean shift for her. "Can ye send Archie in, Beth?"
"Aye, I will," she said, nodding to him and leaving. As Jamie reclaimed his seat next to her, he watched her chest rise and fall. She appeared to not be in any pain, thank Christ, but he still wasn't sure how those wee beasties she called 'nanomeds' would fix her. Archie cleared his throat in the doorway and Jamie looked up, gesturing for him to come in.
"How is she?" Archie asked meekly.
"I dinnae ken, te be honest," Jamie replied, turning his attention back to Catrìona. "She's breathin', and I stitched up her wounds. She… she woke up briefly and… told me what te do."
"Did she recognise ye?" Archie asked, and Jamie shook his head.
"No… I dinnae think so," he replied quietly. For several moments, only silence passed between the two Fraser men, and then Archie broke it.
"Where was she, Da?" Archie asked Jamie quietly. "Where was my mother?"
"I told ye, lad, I sent her te the colonies," Jamie replied.
"No, I dinnae think ye did," Archie told him a bit sharper, causing Jamie to turn and look at him, and he realised that Archie was holding a white cloth ring of some sort with a red cross on it in one hand, and then a metal case in the other - similar to the one she had hidden in the floor at Cìosamul Castle. "Where was my mother, Da? Where was she really ? I'm not a child anymore, nor am I a fool… I ken ye've been lyin' te me. I'm sick of bein' lied te aboot my mother." Jamie scrunched up his face wondering how best to explain this to Archie, as well as if he should actually tell him the truth, but Archie grew impatient. "Tell me, Da! Tell me now!" he snapped at his father.
"Ye watch how ye speak te me, lad. Ye may be grown, but I'm still yer father. Yer no' too auld fer a skelped arse," Jamie told him with a warning tone.
"Until ye tell me the truth aboot my mother, I dinnae want ye te be, so start explainin'," Archie demanded, and Jamie let out a sigh.
"Archie, cannae we do this later? I'm worried sick aboot yer Ma-"
"Well, so am I! Has that thought not occurred te ye yet?" demanded Archie angrily. "That is my mother ! And I found her nearly dead, underneath a bridge wearin' strange claithes and bearin' strange items! And what the hell is that? " He pointed at the item Catrìona had stabbed herself with, which was on the bedside table.
"Shit," Jamie murmured, quickly grabbing it. Had Beth seen it?
"What is it, Da?" Archie demanded again. "What's goin' on? Who is my mother?"
"She… Archie, I dinnae ken how te explain it te ye without it soundin' mad. Can ye please give me time?" Jamie asked him, and Archie scoffed.
"Ye've had twenty-two years te figure that out, damn it," Archie spat at him. "I'll not wait a minute longer. Who is my mother?" Jamie let out a sigh; Archie was as stubborn as both Catrìona and Jamie together, and he wasn't going to stop until he got his answer.
"A… All right… Let me have tha' a moment. The case," Jamie said, holding out a hand for it, and Archie handed it to him. Jamie opened it to find numerous little images of various people or places, then finally got to what she called her ID, then pulled out his reading spectacles to put on and read it:
NAME: Dr. Catrìona Mairead Alba Muirreach Fowlis, M.D.
DATE OF BIRTH: 01/02/2116
HOME ADDRESS: 209 Rathad na Horgh, Castlebay, Isle of Barra, Scotland
COMMANDER OF THE ARMY MEDICAL DIVISION
"This… this is yer mother," Jamie told Archie, at first not showing it to him as he admired the photograph, Catrìona's silvery eyes peering out at him from behind the round-rimmed glasses that now sat on his bedside table. "She… She wasnae… born of this time…" Archie's eyes suddenly widened.
"What the hell do ye mean?" Archie demanded from him. "How could she no' be… born of this time?"
"I thought the same once. She… She travelled through a stone circle from… four hundred years in the future," Jamie told him, and Archie fell silent. "She came te me from the year… 2138, she said, and she was born in the year 2116. We met near one of the fairy hills - Craigh Na Dun. I tried te send both ye and yer mother back te her time before Culloden, but… neither of ye passed through. That was why she decided te go te Barra."
"No… Yer lyin', that… Tha's impossible…" Archie said, not meeting his father's eyes as he tried to absorb this shocking news, and then he glanced down at his mother, his eyes wide with alarm. "She… So she is a witch?"
"No, yer mother's not a witch, Archie… She's from the future, and… so is yer uncle," Jamie told him, and then Archie's head snapped back up.
"Uncle Cailean, too? But how ? If… if they're from the future, then… then Grandsire-"
"Yer grandsire was yer grandsire lad. It… it's complicated. Yer grandsire - well, yer mother's father - do ye recall that he went missin'?"
"Aye, it… it's all anyone talked aboot when they mentioned him…"
"He didnae really disappear… He, too, went through the stones, te the future. It's where he… met yer grandmother and had yer mother and yer uncles," Jamie explained, glancing back down at the case and pulling out the pictures. Catrìona had shown him one that she carried of her father once a long time ago, but this time, she had multiple with her. The first one was of a red-haired woman and the man she recognised together and in the arms of the woman was a bairn; Jamie smiled lightly, seeing the face of his wife's mother for the first time, and then handed the picture to Archie. "Tha's yer grandsire and probably yer grandmother. I imagine tha' wee bairn is yer mother. She said she was the auldest of her brothers." Archie's eyes went wide when he saw the little picture, and he turned it over in his hands first before turning it back around to look at the faces.
"It's… it's so realistic," Archie muttered. "Whoever painted this did a great job… But they're in such strange claithes."
"Not a paintin' at all. Yer mother said it was taken wi' somethin' called a… camera, I think," Jamie told him, and Archie raised a brow.
"A camera?" he asked. "Is that an Italian word or somethin'?"
"I dinnae think so," Jamie replied, looking at the next picture, which was of Catrìona, her hair still red and those same glasses still on her face, kneeling down next to a young lass that looked just like her, save for her slanted blue eyes - Fraser eyes. "Christ…" he muttered quietly, gently touching the face of the young lass. She must be his daughter, the one he had sent with Catrìona through the stones. She was… so beautiful. She looked just like her bonny mother. Had Catrìona left her behind? She looked much younger in the picture, so it was unlikely that the child still looked as young as the young lass in the picture. He glanced up at Catrìona, who had subtle signs of aging that weren't present in her face in the photograph. They would both be forty-five now, having been separated for fifteen years, and minus the brown hair and the subtle signs of aging that they both had, she hardly looked any different, although the brown hair seemed to age her a little.
"So… Mama's from… the future… and… Tha's where ye sent her. Fer real," Archie said, looking down at his mother on the bed.
"Aye… it's hard te comprehend at first… but it's God's honest truth," Jamie told him, looking up at his son to meet his eyes. "I swear it, Archie. This is the truth aboot yer mother."
"Does… Does anyone else ken? Does Fergus ken?" Archie asked him, but Jamie shook his head.
"No," he replied. "Yer Grandsire kent, as did yer grandmother and yer Aunt Saoirse, but tha's the extent. Oh, and Alasdair."
"I see," said Archie a bit meekly, looking at his mother again. "Why… Why didnae ye tell me?"
"How would ye explain tha' she's from the future? She was nearly burnt at the stake fer witchcraft fer bein' different alone, but from the future?" Jamie said to him, and then he let out a sigh, replacing the photographs and closing the metal case. "Now ye ken… I would have told ye sooner, but I didnae ken she would come back te me. I thought…"
"Ye thought what? That she'd move on?" Archie asked him. "Da… Mama loves ye, I dinnae ken how she possibly could. You never could."
"Aye, I ken," Jamie replied, taking Catrìona's hand in his and giving it a squeeze.
"Will she… She'll not…" Archie said, unable to finish his sentence.
"I dinnae ken," Jamie replied honestly. "I sure hope not. I suppose we just… need te wait."
"Did the physician come?" Archie asked, but Jamie shook his head. "Then… how will she get better?"
"She took this… medicine… I dinnae ken truly what it does, but she says it'll help," Jamie replied. "She used it on me once. A much smaller dose than this, but it healed my hand."
"So what, we just wait?" Archie asked him. "What if yer wrong, Da?"
"If I'm wrong, then… there's no savin' her," Jamie said, bringing Catrìona's hand to his lips to kiss it and squeezing his eyes tightly to prevent the tears from escaping. "God, I hope I'm no' wrong…"
CATRÌONA POV
I didn't know where I was, when I was, how I was… All I knew was that I felt nothing. All around me was silence, darkness, pure nothingness. There was no pain, at least, but there was also no warmth, nor was there cold. I could not feel the cold of the stone, nor could I even move to reach out and feel for it. It was like I was completely paralysed, locked inside of my own mind, left to go completely mad. This was Richard Randall winning, finally succeeding in killing the last of the Fowlis family that he had targeted that cold April day in 2131.
"War is comin', Eilidh. I dinnae ken how I can protect ye all…"
It was my father's voice; An echo of an old memory, not too long before my family was killed. Was this my life flashing before my very eyes? I still could not see anything, but I could hear it…
"What do ye think we should do? Should we go? Should we send the kids away? Maggie did so wi' her bairns."
"Perhaps it's… somethin' we should think aboot. I dinnae want te run from my home. If I must, I will fight. I'll no' let those lobsterbacked bastards take away my home…"
The voices grew fuzzy, so I strained my ears to hear. The voice, it sounded not only familiar, but personal… Who was that? It…
"Come and let us live, my Deare; Let us love and never feare. Then let amorous kisses dwell On our lips, begin and tell A Thousand, and a Hundred, score An Hundred, and a Thousand more…"
"Lord, protect my beloved… My white dove, the child she has borne me, and the child that she may one day bear. Preserve her from violence and from harm. In this place, and every place; on this night, and every night…"
"Preserve her from violence and from harm… though ye've failed in that sense… Protect her from further harm, in this place, and every place; on this night, and every night. My Lord, I ask fer yer forgiveness, te forgive my sins and hers, te spare her life… If ye must have someone, take me instead…"
Who was that? That voice, it didn't sound like that of a ghost. It didn't sound like the echo of some long distant memory of my long distant past. It sounded clear as day, soft, melancholic, dismal, sorrowful… full of amorous love, from lips on which many amorous kisses may dwell. Suddenly, I could feel a hint of warmth on my hands, like the first heat given off from a recently started fire, and then it grew, engulfing the entirety of my hand. It felt… hopeful, harmless… Like a helping hand, one of a saviour, or a lover. I wanted to somehow reach out, give it a sign so that it knew I was here inside listening. I gathered every ounce of strength I had in my frail body and directed it to my hand, giving the solid object that was the source of heat a soft squeeze.
"Catrìona?" I heard the voice say - my name. I tried to gather more strength to respond, but my batteries were drained. I began feeling tired and sleepy, my still closed eyes and my head suddenly feeling heavy… "I'm here, mo chridhe… mo nighean ruadh… I'm here. Take my strength, take it all. I give it all te ye…" Who… What… How?
It was Jamie. The familiar heat on my hand imprinted on my memory, and that was the last I could recall before I faded away yet again.
The darkness was no more; I could see a faint light somewhere off in the distance. It wasn't like the light I had seen when I had been brought into theatre when delivering Maevis. This light was… different… It wasn't mystical or magical like that light had been, but seemed more… natural. Slowly, I opened my eyes, fighting against my heavy weighted eyelids. I took a deep breath of chilled air, smelling the faint scent of woodsmoke, and stretched out my palm against the surface I was lying on - cotton bedsheets, handwoven… That was unusual. I hadn't felt bedsheets like this in-
Oh, dear God.
My stomach lurched and I had to use all my strength to turn onto my side and vomit over the side of the bed rather violently. I coughed, then vomited again, letting out a disdainful groan of misery.
"Oh, Mistress!" I heard a voice suddenly say, and then a wooden bucket was shoved into my hands. "Goodness, ye puir thing! I'll fetch yer husband straight away! Oh, he'll be so glad te see ye awake…"
My husband? I didn't have one of those anymore. Well, technically, I was still married to Tom, and out of guilt, I still wore his wedding ring on my left hand. But anyone who knew me knew better than to call him my husband. Was I in some strange hospital? What hospital would give me a wooden bucket to vomit in? Oh, forget it, my stomach was feeling positively awful. I vomited again into the bucket, lying on my side and coughing, moaning, and trying to blow sweat off of my face. Behind me, I could hear heavy footsteps, but for the moment, I couldn't care less about them or who they belonged to, I just wanted to sleep again.
"Please… tell me ye have morphine…" I begged the person behind me. "Or… ketamine or propofol, etomidate, anything ."
"I… I dinnae have anythin' like that," said the voice, and I was about to be shocked by the recognition of a voice I hadn't heard in fifteen years when I suddenly vomited into the bucket again. I felt a wet cloth suddenly wiping away some of the sweat on my forehead, then another large, warm hand touched my shoulder and pulled me slightly onto my back so the person could wipe my mouth clean. "How aboot a bit of laudanum? Maybe a bit of… ginger tea."
"Ondansetron would be better," I muttered, closing my eyes as the headache started to attack. "Oh, blessed Bride, mo cheann …"
"Beth, would ye mind fetchin' the laudanum," said the voice again, and I gathered the strength to open my eyes, looking up at the hazy figure sitting above me and looking towards the other side of the room.
"Yes, sir, Mr. Fraser," said the voice called Beth, and the fuzzy figure above me turned its head to look at me again.
"G… Glasses," I muttered. "I… I cannae see ye…" I could see the figure move again to pick something up, then I felt the chill of the metal frames of my glasses on my face and the fuzzy figure cleared up, revealing him to be- "Jamie…" He smiled at me, that sweet, handsome, perfect smile I knew and loved and had seen only in my dreams for the last fifteen years, suddenly within my reach, but I was too weak to reach for him. He took my hand in his and brought it to his lips, kissing it gently.
"Ye gave me quite the scare, a nighean ," he told me.
"What… how…" I muttered, still in complete shock as I tiredly stared up at him with wonder. "Yer here…"
"Actually, yer here , in my time," Jamie said to me. "I cannae travel, do ye not recall?"
"Aye," I said quietly.
"As fer 'how', I dinnae ken either. I was hopin' ye could answer that, but first, what on earth happened te ye?" he asked me, and I gave a slight shiver as I thought back to the last memories I had. Killing Randall, his bullet ripping through me, coughing up blood, following Jamie's voice to one of the vaults…
"R… Randall…" I muttered as he laid a hand on my forehead.
"Christ, lass, yer burnin' wi' fever," he told me.
"S…side effect… of the… nanomeds," I said a bit sleepily. "How… How long…"
"Three days," Jamie told me. "Yer pishin' orange, if tha' says anythin'. I remember ye told me my pish would be strangely coloured after ye used those wee beasties on my hand."
"Three… three days…" I muttered, finding it difficult to fight against my heavy eyelids.
"Get some rest, a nighean. I'll be right here by yer side," I heard Jamie's voice say as I closed my eyes again.
"Stay wi' me," I murmured, and I dozed off yet again. When I awoke again sometime later, it was dusk and I was alone, and I then glanced up at the bedside table beside me to see a bottle of laudanum. Fighting off the urge to vomit, I grasped that little bottle and drank a good third of it, then slipped away into a deep, restful slumber for Bride knew how long.
The next time I awoke, it was morning and I was left by myself. I didn't know how long it had been, but I felt stronger than I had, and no longer nauseous, though still a little feverish. I lifted my head first, then pushed myself up to sit, grimacing with pain. I glanced down expecting a hospital gown but instead, found myself in a cotton shift. "What the hell…" I muttered to myself. I lifted up the shift to take a look at the wounds, finding them to be stitched up. It definitely wasn't done by a professional, but it wasn't bad. Next, I glanced around the room, finding it to be wood from floor to ceiling, then caught a faint whiff of raw sewage. I scrunched up my nose and glanced towards the window, seeing wooden roofs from the bed, and then I pushed myself up to stand, stumbling first and catching myself on the bedside table, grabbing my glasses to put them on and then limping my way over to the window. I gasped quietly when I realised that I hadn't been dreaming… I really was in the eighteenth century. But how… The last thing I remembered, I was in a stone vault that had been blown to bits. I was nowhere near a stone circle. How did I manage to fall through time yet again and not even notice? I became startled by the door suddenly opening, and when I turned to look, I felt faint at the sight before me. There, dressed in a leather coat and black breeks carrying a black tricorn hat, was my very own Jamie Fraser, his hand on the doorknob as he first glanced at the bed, then up at me at the window. For a long moment, we stared at each other in silence, and then he quietly cleared his throat.
"Ye should… get back in bed… Ye need yer rest," he told me quietly, and I raised an eyebrow at him.
"The… The first we've seen of each other in fifteen years… and ye tell me te get back into bed te rest?" I asked him meekly, taking him off guard, and then he smiled lightly.
"Aye, well… Ye came te me wounded and dyin', and have been these last four days, though yer doin' remarkably well," Jamie replied, coming into the room, closing the door and setting both his hat and coat on the coat rack by the door.
"Four days?" I repeated, feeling myself push up against the wall as he approached with his hands outstretched.
"Come. Ye must lie down. Ye were badly injured," he told me, and for a moment, I stared at his hand before nodding and placing my own in his. Once I no longer had the support of the wall, I nearly collapsed, but Jamie caught me and lifted me off of my feet, carrying me back to the bed and setting me down on the mattress. "Now, how're ye feelin'? Are ye hungry? Sore? I've go' laudanum and white willow bark and rosemary fer tea, and Mrs. MacCleary can make ye some broth. Do ye remember her? Beth MacCleary?"
"The… the lass who… accompanied us te Paris, aye," I said meekly, still staring wide-eyed at him.
"Aye, the verra same," he replied. "She's widowed now and her auldest bairns have left home, but I found her strugglin' te feed her youngest bairns and she works here now, servin' me and… and Fergus and Archie."
"Archie," I repeated quietly. "My… my wee lad, is… is he here? Can I… can I see him?"
"I've sent him on an errand te keep his mind busy but aye, soon as he's back," Jamie replied, giving me a smile. "Though I think ye'll find he's no' so 'wee' anymore. He's a full grown man now."
"Grown?" I asked, rubbing my eyes and continuing to stare at Jamie, as if I were somehow hallucinating him. His curls, though tied back in a short queue, still had that rich red colour, and his eyes were still the bonniest sky blue I'd ever seen. He had subtle wrinkles up by his eyes and on his forehead, and some around his mouth as well. "Ye… Ye look auld…" He chuckled.
"Ye dinnae look three and twenty anymore, either," he told me with amusement, then raised a hand to touch my face. "Still… Yer the most beautiful woman I've ever seen…" I felt my cheeks flush a little pink and glanced down briefly, then glanced up at him again.
"What aboot Brèagha?" I asked him, wondering where our daughter, who was likely grown as well, was.
"On Barra wi' yer brother. She… didnae want te leave. She's happy there," Jamie told me. With my brother… Did that mean Cailean was the Laird now?
"What… What's the date?" I asked him, wanting to ask him a million questions all at once.
"The fourth of October, 1766," Jamie replied, sensing the sudden pain I felt at realising that my grandsire had been gone for seven years by this point. "He was surrounded by those he loved. He didnae suffer. Cailean's been doin' well as Laird, or so I've heard. We write occasionally, but Archie writes wi' him more, and wi' Brèagha as well. We call her 'Bree' now." At this, I raised an eyebrow.
"Like the disturbance?" I asked him, and he chuckled.
"Aye, well. I dinnae ken its origins, but it may lie in that," he said, smiling warmly at me. "Do ye… Do ye mind if I ask ye somethin' now?" I nodded, awaiting his question. "It's been so long… I… would verra much like te kiss ye. May I?" The question caught me off guard, and frankly, I wasn't expecting such a request. My heart told me to say yes, but my brain, fearful of everything and still not sure if I was hallucinating or not, told me to say no. I swallowed my fear; Without thinking, I nodded my head. He smiled again, then slowly bent down and moved closer to me, suddenly inches from my face.
"We… havenae done this in… a verra long time," I said a bit meekly, interrupting him, and he chuckled lightly.
"Aye," he replied. "Dinnae be afraid… It's the two of us now." I closed my eyes as he continued on his path, then I felt him press his lips firmly against mine. It felt… exactly like I remembered. It had always felt right when we kissed, like we were two pieces of a puzzle and our lips fit perfectly together. His kiss ignited an old flame inside of me that I had thought had gone out a long time ago, when I had decided to move on, that Jamie was lost to me. But here he was, before me yet again in the flesh, kissing me as if no time had passed between the last moment we saw each other and this one. My brain became fuzzy and light - likely the effect of the nanomeds still working on my insides - so I didn't really have control over my arms coming up and wrapping themselves around his neck. This was my Jamie… Back in my arms safe yet again. He had once been a gift to me, someone I treasured dearly, who's love I did not question, but now… Things were different now. Who I was before when we were wed was not who I was now, and if he found out and didn't like this new me…
I broke the kiss, pulling away and letting go of him, scooting a little away from him on the bed. "Sorry, I… Difficulty breathin'," I lied, huffing and puffing from anxiety, not exertion.
"I see," Jamie replied quietly. "Do ye… want me te leave ye be?"
"No, I… Maybe… Oh, I dinnae ken," I replied with a sigh, pulling my knees to my chest.
"What is it?" he asked me, but I shook my head.
"Nothin', really," I replied, and did my best to muster a smile. "Just… a wee bit tired, tha's all."
"Ah, I see," Jamie replied. "Then perhaps I should leave ye be."
"No, wait," I said urgently, grabbing his hand and stopping him from moving. "Please, I…" He gave me a soft smile and covered my hand with his, then sat back down on the bed. "What… What have ye been up to? I… found yer note. Ye said Cailean was arrested?"
"Aye, some years ago. Yer Grandsire got him out on house arrest," Jamie replied.
"And what aboot you? Where've you been?" I asked him. "There was this… American lass who told me a letter was found in the castle written by Archie, and in it, he mentioned not kennin' where ye were…"
"After we parted, I went back te Barra. I wanted te see them one last time. Then I went te Lallybroch, and… was arrested a few years after. I remained in prison fer three years," he told me, and my eyes widened a little.
"Three years?" I asked him meekly.
"'Tis nothin' on yer father's fifteen years in prison," he told me, remembering that from the few times I had mentioned it.
"Still… I cannae imagine it," I replied. "What aboot after?"
"Fer several years, I worked as a groom on an English estate called Helwater," he replied, a strange look in his eye. "And… aboot that, I… have somethin' I need te tell ye…" Letting go of my hand, he stood up and went to the hearth, picking up something off the mantle and then returning to me. In my hands, he placed a miniature painting of a young lad who resembled him a little, save for the fact that he had brown hair. I raised an eyebrow as I glanced between him and the portrait. "This is… my son." At this news, my eyes widened, but then I shook it off.
"I suppose it shouldnae surprise me," I said with a sigh. "We were apart fer a long time… Ye must have had a life. Is she… Did ye… Did ye love her? His mother."
"No," Jamie replied somewhat firmly. "As a matter of fact, I couldnae stand the lass. She was… the daughter of the man who owned the estate. She was bein' wed te an auld man and she blackmailed me te come te her room and… aye. She didnae want her first experience te be wi' an auld man. Her words, not mine. I didnae ken it… resulted in a child until the laddie was born. She died that day."
"I see," I said, still looking at the portrait. "Well, he… he's a bonny lad. What's his name?"
"William, but he prefers Willie," Jamie replied with a soft smile. "Archie met him. The two of them got along verra well."
"Oh, tha's… tha's verra good," I said, handing him the portrait back, but I didn't meet his eyes.
"Aye, he'll grow up te be the Earl of Ellesmere, so I cannae claim him. But he's bein' raised by a man I consider a friend," Jamie told me. I didn't answer him and I heard him let out a small cough, then after a moment, felt his fingers gently touching my hair; I pulled away from him, turning my head away. "Catrìona… Ye've never shied away from my touch before…"
"Sorry, I… I've no' been touched in a… a long time," I told him, returning my head back to where it was.
"Was Tom no'… good te ye?" Jamie asked me, caution evident in his voice.
"I wasnae good te him," I replied, glancing down at my left hand, where his golden wedding band remained. "But it was his own fault. I told him I didnae love him anymore, and still he… wanted te hang around. I dinnae ken if it was fer my sake or…" I glanced up at him, meeting his blue slanted eyes, the same eyes that belonged to his beautiful daughter. "…or fer Maevis."
"Maevis?" he asked me, raising an eyebrow, and then the realisation seemed to dawn on him. He reached for something on the bedside table - my metal case - and popped it open, pulling out a photograph and looking down at it. "It's her name… isnae it?" I nodded.
"She… she's so clever. Never met a lass as smart as she is, or in love with learning as she is," I told him. "I havenae seen her in a long time. I… was forced te send her away." I looked away from him, glancing down at the wool bed cover. "When I returned… the war had ended. We won, evidently, but peace wasnae long lived. The English king who was in power durin' both rebellions died and… his son… destroyed Glasgow." I heard Jamie let out a small, quiet gasp.
"How does a man destroy an entire city?" he asked me quietly.
"With weapons beyond anythin' ye could ever dream of," I replied. "Hundreds of thousands of people died. There was nothin' that could be done. All of those lives just extinguished in an instant… I had te send her away. I couldnae let her continue to live in a place so dangerous… a place where Richard Randall could get te her."
"Tha' bastard still lives?" I scoffed lightly.
"Not anymore," I replied. "All those wounds ye saw on me… He put them there. But dinnae fash, he didnae fare as well as I did."
"I see," Jamie replied, glancing back down at the photograph. "So ye… dinnae ken where she is…"
"I wanted wherever she was sent to te be secret, even from me. That way, the bastard could never find her. As far as I ken, there's no one alive who kens where she is, save fer herself. Or rather… there willnae be," I replied, glancing up at the wooden ceiling. "So… 1766. Everrathin' is… so different now."
"Aye," Jamie replied. Silence passed between us, but it was interrupted shortly after by the sound of a door opening and closing downstairs, followed by footsteps on the stairs.
"Da!" I heard a grown, mature and deep voice call, and I let out a startled gasp and looked at the door with fright.
"It's all right, a ghràidh , it's just Archie," Jamie told me, and I felt my heart start to race as I looked at him with a panicked expression.
"Archie?" I asked him, and I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard a knock at the door.
"Da, we're back! Or I am. Fergus has gone te the docks wi' Mr. Willoughby te sort out a situation," I heard the voice on the other side call - the voice of my son, who would be twenty-two, soon to be twenty-three.
"Ah… thanks, lad. Would ye mind just givin' me a moment?" Jamie said back to him.
"Er, sure. Is everrathin' all right? Is she bleedin' again? Should I fetch the physician?" Archie's voice replied, growing more panic-stricken with each question.
"No, lad, everrathin's fine. Just a moment, please," Jamie told him, and then he looked at me. "Will ye see him? He's been desperate te see ye, Catrìona. Ye've no idea how much he's missed ye."
"No! God, no!" I said somewhat quietly, ducking further under the covers. "I… I dinnae want him te see me like this!"
"He's already seen ye worse, lass. He's the one that found ye and brought ye here," Jamie told me, a mild scold in his tone, but I shook my head. "Christ, lass, are ye afraid te see him? I've never kent ye te be scared in all yer life!"
"Well, tha's the problem, innit?" I hissed at him. "Ye dinnae ken me at all, and I dinnae ken you! And even worse… I dinnae even ken my own son. He… was just a lad when I saw him last… Now he's full grown and he has a life and I… I dinnae ken him…"
"Then get te ken him," Jamie told me. "He's yer son, and you are his mother. Tha's the same lad ye carried fer nine months-"
"Seven. I was only pregnant fer seven months, he came early," I interrupted him.
"Fine. Tha's the same lad ye carried fer seven months in yer womb and the same lad ye held te yer breast. He's the same lad ye fought te protect and the same lad who loved ye - who still loves ye - and has been doin' nothin' but askin' fer ye fer the last fifteen years. Losin' ye changed him, Catrìona, and te have ye back…"
"But… but what if he doesnae like who I've become? I'm not the same, Jamie," I told him.
"That doesnae matter, because yer his mother and he loves ye unconditionally. So ye will see him," Jamie replied, standing up and going to the door.
"No. I said no !" I snapped at him a bit loudly.
"Mama?" I heard the voice outside of the door call, and I froze, staring at the door with my eyes wide. "Mama, is that you? Are ye awake?" I didn't answer - instead, I just ducked further under the covers.
"Aye, lad, she is," Jamie answered him. "Come in and see yer mother, will ye?" I watched as the doorknob rattled and the door was pushed open, revealing a tall, fully grown man with curly red hair tied back in a queue, much like Jamie's was. He had the look of my grandfather, with his soft features, silvery Fowlis eyes and even my grandfather's stance as he stood in the doorway, his own silvery eyes locked on mine. He seemed as frozen in fear as I was, but then it seemed that my maternal instincts kicked in. I slowly lowered the covers as I looked up at my fully grown son, who was every bit the spit of me, as he must have grown up hearing.
"Archie…" I murmured, and he seemed to react very subtly, hearing his name uttered from his mother's lips. It was strange seeing him grown. All these years, I'd pictured him as the wee seven-year-old lad I'd been forced to leave behind, but he certainly wasn't a child anymore. "Oh, Archie… Come here, my sweet lamb…" Finally moving, Archie crossed the room in two steps and bent down to embrace me, collapsing onto the bed beside me and sobbing into my shoulder.
"Mama…" he said between tears. "God, Mama, I've missed ye so much…"
"Shh… I've missed ye, too, my darlin' wee lad," I said to him, feeling tears stinging my own eyes as I embraced my son, who certainly was a hell of a lot bigger than he had been the last time I had held him like this. He was crying then, too, because he was saying goodbye to me in Ireland, not realising that it would be the last he'd see of me for fifteen years. "Blessed Bride, I… seem te have broken my promise," I said to him suddenly, running my fingers through his thick red curls, and he pulled back to look at me, wiping his eyes on his sleeves.
"Wh… What's that, Mama?" he asked me.
"Last time we met, I promised ye that ye wouldnae be grown when I saw ye next… Seems I didnae keep my word," I told him, and he chuckled a little. "I… I'm sorry I wasnae here fer ye, Archie. I should have been, as yer mother. Ye needed me and I… I wasnae here…"
"It's all right, Mama. Da explained everrathin' te me," Archie replied, glancing up at his father and giving him a soft smile before returning his gaze to me. "I… I dinnae understand it, but… I'm glad yer here now. I've missed ye so much. I love ye, Mama!" He embraced me tightly again, kissing my cheek and resting his chin on my shoulder.
"Oh, my sweet lamb, I love ye, too," I told him, kissing the side of his head. "We've got a lot of catchin' up te do…"
"Why dinnae ye both do that while I go and check in with this situation at the docks?" Jamie chimed in, and with one hand, I reached for him and grabbed his hand, giving it a firm squeeze and meeting his eyes as I silently begged him not to go. He nodded subtly, then smiled, joining Archie and I on the bed and taking us both into his arms. I wanted to cry again… In my arms were my son and my… my husband , safe and sound and by my side once again. All we were missing were Brèagha and Maevis. I was sure Jamie would take me to see Brèagha soon, once I'd recovered, but Maevis…
Would I ever have the chance to see her again? Would Maevis ever meet her brother, her sister, and her father? But for the moment, more importantly, would I be able to fit back into my family the way I had before? Archie and Jamie… They had no idea what I've done in the years we were separated. They wouldn't know what I've seen, couldn't even comprehend it… They were glad to welcome me back into their arms this time around, but what if they find that they don't like who I've become? I certainly didn't, and if I could scarcely live with myself… how could they?
