Featured Gaelic and Pronunciations:

- Tiugainn (choo-geyn) - come along

3 April, 1744

Versailles, Paris, France

Things were all right, for a while. Jamie had moved back into our bedchamber and we slowly worked on repairing the rift that had come between us. Twice, I woke up to him touching me, but when I tried to return the favour, he wouldn't let me. Another time, I awoke to his head between my legs, teasing me with his tongue and making me groan and growl his name through gritted teeth. He still wasn't interested in the same being done to him, but the fact that he was reaching out to me on his own was enough for me. Baby steps were needed in his recovery - for a man as proud as Jamie Fraser, it could take quite a while for him to recover his pride. At least he stopped pushing me away, and he always kissed me before he left.

He promised he would be around more, and at first, he held true to his promise, until he slowly started being absent from the house for longer and longer periods during the day. When I brought it up to him, he told me that Charles was demanding his attention more and more each day. "I'm sorry, mo ghràidh. Really, I am, but ye ken how important this is," he'd said to me, taking note of my irritated expression.

"Can't ye tell him ye'd rather be home with yer family then out running aboot with prostitutes?" I demanded from the bed, my knees pulled up against my chest.

"Charles doesnae think like that, mo gráidh . Ye ken tha'," he said. "Why don't ye come te Versailles with me when I meet Duverney fer chess tomorrow? Ye can bring the lads."

"I'll no' have them anywhere near that actual shithole of a place," I said. "Ye ken the royal family just shits and pishes wherever they please?"

"Then you come with me," said Jamie kindly, sitting down on the bed beside me and leaning over to kiss my cheek. "Will ye come?"

"I'd rather ye spend time with yer sons, Jamie," I said, taking the bait but still putting up a fight.

"When we return, we'll spend every second of the rest of the day with them. I promise ye," Jamie replied. "Please?" I let out a sigh, giving into him.

"All right, fine," I told him. "But fer tha', ye owe me." He chuckled, then pulled my legs out and pushed me back down onto the bed.

"I think I can pay my dues," he said, subtly pulling the hem of my shift up to expose me. "I'm glad te see yer hair come back. Fer Christ's sake, dinnae ever rid yerself of such a lovely bush ever again!"

"I'll be glad te spare meself the pain," I told him with amusement.

The following day, we rode in the carriage together, my ungloved hand held tightly in his as the carriage bumped over the cobblestone streets of the city. I kept my eyes out the window, a nasty feeling beginning to burn inside of me. I didn't know what was coming, nor when it would, but whenever something bad was going to happen, I could always sense it.

"What are the names of your sons again, Madame Fraser?" Duverney had asked me. I was standing behind Jamie, my hand resting on his shoulder, while Jamie played Duverney in chess.

"Archie and Brian," I answered Duverney. "Archie was named fer my father and Brian fer Jamie's."

"How very… Scottish," said Duverney.

"Brian, I believe, is a French name," said Jamie.

"The lads are also named fer Jamie, fer Jamie's brother, William, and my brother, Cailean," I told Duverney. "Verra Scottish indeed, considerin' we're all from Scotland."

"Dalhousie would have been a good name," Jamie suddenly chimed in as he moved his pawn to claim another of Duverney's.

"Dal…hoosie?" asked Duverney, and I couldn't help but scoff.

"Dalhousie? Like after Dalhousie Castle?" I asked him incredulously.

"It sounds like a sneeze!" Duverney exclaimed as he examined the board for his next move.

"It's a braw name!" Jamie defended his decision. "A braw name fer a braw lad!"

"It's a lowland name," I told him, and then I looked at Duverney. "Jamie is a highlander and I am from the islands. The lowlands are famous fer bein' more supportive of the English. I'd never give my lad a lowlander name." I gave Jamie's shoulder a squeeze, and he scoffed.

"Is Fowlis no' a lowland name?" Jamie asked me, raising an eyebrow at me.

"See, there's where yer wrong," I told him. "Fowlis originates from the name 'Foulzie', it is in the parish of King Edward in Aberdeen. There is an English branch of the family in Yorkshire, but they spell their name differently, like Foulis - like 'foul' English supporters, if ye will. There were some in Ireland, too, but then ye have the branch that agreed te aid Donald of Islay in his claim fer the Earldom of Ross in the fifteenth century."

"How fascinating! Do tell me more, Madame Fraser!" said Duverney, excited to have a chance to distract Jamie from the chess game so he could try and plot his win.

"Well, Robert Stewart was a younger son of the Scottish King Robert II who ruled until the year 1390. Bein' a younger son, unless his elder brothers died without issue, he would never hold the throne of Scotland, so he had te find some way te keep power. He did have some as the regent of the young King James I, but tha's never enough, is it? He'd taken control of the Earldom of Ross as guardian of his niece, but Donald of Islay, Lord of the Isles, also had a claim, havin' married Robert Stewart's niece's aunt, I believe. He invaded with intention of claimin' Ross fer himself, but then the Earl of Mar - not the same as Lord Mar who participated in the '15, this one was called Alexander Stewart and wasnae related te Robert Stewart - heard of this and tried te stop him. Donald wasnae doin' well so he sought help from none other than my ancestor, Aonghas Mhòr mac Fowlis, who was kent fer his brutality in war. His ancestors had fought alongside Scottish nationals against King Edward I, so Donald of Islay wanted his help. But true te his highlander nature, Aonghas wanted somethin' in return fer helpin' Donald of Islay - he wanted the Isle of Barra, which was under MacDonald ownership. Donald of Islay agreed, and in 1411, went te battle at Aberdeen in what was called the Battle of Harlaw. There wasnae an official victor, per say, but Donald of Islay eventually lost and was forced te surrender, but the Fowlises didnae care because they had been granted the Isle of Barra and thus, there are Fowlises in the isles. So ye see, the Fowlises are not lowlanders, we were born highlanders and migrated te the isles."

"Fascinating! It is no wonder the Fowlis family is so feared! They are a fierce kind!" Duverney exclaimed.

"Tha' they are," I said. "But we've been livin' in the isles fer centuries now, so all of our highlander blood is in the distant past, and we are now islanders."

"I do know something of the Fowlis family. I am acquainted with a man by the name…" Duverney began, trailing off as he tried to recall the name. "I have seen the man recently, but I do not recall his name…"

"Alasdair Fowlis?" I asked.

"Ah! Oui! That is indeed the man! Is he related?" Duverney asked me.

"Somehow, but I dinnae ken how. I suppose he's my second cousin, as he is the nephew of my grandsire, the Laird of Cìosamul," I told him. "I am the daughter of Archie Fowlis." Again, not a lie - that was my father's name. Not my fault another existed in this time and had disappeared.

"I did hear something of the man. He disappeared, did he not? Leaving this Lord of kissy-mool without an heir…" I heard Duverney say, but my mind was distracted by something else catching my eye. Entering the room, holding his head high and mighty with his nose stuck way up into the air, was the Comte Saint Germain. His eyes swept the room as if he were scoping out his prey when they landed on me. His eyes narrowed, but I kept my face steeled. Jamie and Duverney resumed their game, and I made my way to a servant that was carrying flutes of champagne on a silver tray. I accepted one from the servant, who then disappeared, and turned my attention back to Saint Germain. His features hadn't changed and he watched me carefully, so I raised my glass to him and took a sip from the champagne. I turned to exit the library with intentions to make my way to the gardens for a bit of fresh air, but I didn't get too far when my stomach started gurgling. I could feel a burning pressure in my throat and I began to cough, my throat seemingly closing as I struggled to breathe through all the gagging and coughing.

"Catrìona!" I heard Jamie's voice call, and before I could collapse onto my knees, I felt his hands grasping my arm. I reached for my throat and struggled to clear it, and the edges of my vision became fuzzy.

I woke up sometime later dressed in my shift and lying in a large bed. I gasped for air and flailed my arms out, trying to sit up so I could vomit over the side of the bed. "Catrìona! Get something! Quickly!" I heard Jamie's voice shout, and then a bucket was shoved into my hands for me to vomit into. I felt a gurgling in my bowels and a very uncomfortable pressure, which only told me one thing.

"Get out! Jamie, get out! Quickly!" I shouted, crawling from the bed with the bucket in tow.

"Catrìona!" Jamie cried.

"Get out of here before I fucking shit all over you!" I hissed at him in Gaelic. He seemed to take the hint, and thankfully, he and the servants left me to my own rather disgusting devices. When I finally stopped expressing horrid, foul-smelling liquids from both ends sometime in the middle of the night, I sent for a servant to help me clean myself up a bit before I would allow Jamie back into the room. When he appeared, he was horribly pale and clearly worried sick, but extremely thrilled to see that I was still alive.

"How are ye feeling?" he asked me, his hand resting on my forehead and brushing back my hair. "Yer warm… and yer moist."

"Bit of a fever, but I'll be fine," I told him tiredly. "I've sent fer some Marshmallow leaf tea, that should help. I've no' had an episode in some time now."

"I'm glad te hear," he told me, giving me a gentle smile. "Christ, Catrìona, ye had me worried sick… What happened? Ye didnae catch somethin' from the hospital, did ye?" I shook my head.

"No, I felt fine all day," I replied. A servant knocked on the door and entered with the marshmallow leaf tea, then left us alone. I took a sip from the tea as Jamie settled on the bed beside me, wiping the sweat off of my forehead with a cool wet cloth. "The symptoms had such a quick onset, almost like…" I paused, staring at the fire across the room. Jamie seemed to know the exact direction of my thoughts.

"Like poison," he said bitterly.

"Aye," I answered. "But I dinnae wish te hurl accusations-"

"I saw Saint Germain," Jamie told me. "Everyone else was concerned, but he seemed pleased that ye were sufferin'. It had te have been him, and if it was, I'll make him suffer."

"I suppose it's possible he could have, I dinnae ken, bribed a servant te slip some into my champagne," I replied tiredly. "But I'm alive, so whatever it was, wasnae deadly."

"Or ye got lucky." At this I shook my head, suddenly recalling a conversation I'd had with Master Raymond at the apothecary. 'The effect is almost immediate. The stomach will seek to purge itself…' 'So it makes the enemy suffer visibly, but it doesnae kill them.' 'Precisely! No one dies, and the customer is satisfied…'

" Frangula purshiana ," I said, a feeling of betrayal stabbing me in the gut.

"What's that?" I heard Jamie ask me.

"Bitter cascara," I replied, somewhat bitterly.

"Wha's that?"

"A herb that has a tendency te cause the stomach te purge itself. Quite horrible te suffer from, but no' deadly. And I ken someone who sells it disguised as a poison."

"Who?" At this, I shook my head.

"I'll deal with it. Just help me get dressed so I can get home te the lads, they'll need me. I'm positively burstin'," I told him, crawling out of bed. I stumbled a little, and Jamie was quick to grasp me and lead me back to the bed.

"Absolutely not, yer te stay until ye recover," he said firmly, sitting me back down onto the bed.

"All I need is water and maybe some plain bread and I'll be fine," I told him, but my stubborn husband wasn't budging.

"Sorry, Catrìona, but I'll no' have it. The king has been kind enough te let ye stay until yer recovered."

"And I'll be recovered after rehydratin' with water and eatin' somethin' small."

"Yer pale, ye need te rest, and it's the middle of the night."

"I'm pale because I'm dehydrated, Jamie. Just get me some water and I'll be fine!"

"Just give me until the mornin', Catrìona. I'll give ye water and whatever ye ask fer, but just stay until the mornin'," he said to me, seemingly begging me to just give in to him. Jamie never begged me for anything, so I let out a sigh and settled back into the bed.

"Fine. Water, bread, and a bit of broth will do me good," I told him. "And a small basin and a cup."

"Fer what?" Jamie asked me, cocking an eyebrow.

"Well, my breasts are burstin' with milk, and though it's a shame te waste it, if I cannae give it to my sons, then I'll have te rid meself of it te spare me a bit of pain," I told him bluntly. His eyes widened a bit, but he nodded, sending a servant to fetch everything that I requested. "Jamie," I said sometime later. "If it was Saint Germain… ye cannae do anythin' te him."

"And why no'? I'll defend ye no matter what I have te do, duelling banned in Paris be damned," Jamie told me, not firmly but definitely with passion.

"And tha's so honourable and I'll love ye fer it everra day of me life, but Jamie… if ye get involved with a scandal, Charles will distance himself from ye," I told him. "That, and we don't have proof."

"But ye said-"

"Staring at me and possessing a lack of empathy isnae proof, mo chridhe ," I told him, and he let out a frustrated huff.

"When all this is over, if it was him and I find out aboot it, I swear I'll come back and kill the man myself," Jamie told me. "Get some sleep, if ye can. It'll be dawn soon, and ye've hardly slept a wink." He bent down to kiss my forehead, then pulled the blanket up to my chin. "I'll be here, right by yer side."

"Where ye belong," I told him. He gave me a subtle smile, then bent his head to kiss my lips, then snuggled up right beside me.

5 April, 1744

Master Raymond's Apothecary, Paris, France

I promised Jamie I'd rest the day we returned from Versailles, but only on the condition that he stayed home with me and the lads, which he agreed to, much to the dismay of the prince, according to Cailean. The following day, after Jamie and Cailean had left for the warehouse, I dressed and made my way to Master Raymond's shop, eager to have a conversation with him about the 'poison' he sold in his shop. As I opened the door, the bell rang above my head and Master Raymond himself, who was behind the counter accepting payment from another customer, lifted his head to greet me.

"Ah, Madonna! Just a moment, I will be right there," he said to me as he finished up with this customer. "This, Mademoiselle, should help your mother with her headaches," he said to the young girl in French.

" Merci, Monsieur," she said back to him, accepting the wrapped package. As she passed me on her way out, she curtsied to me, then went through the door.

"So, Madonna, what is it I can do for you today?" Master Raymond asked me cheerfully.

"Two nights ago, I was violently ill," I informed him. "Vomiting, nausea… evacuation of the bowels. Not te mention, severe hydration."

"Are you well, Madonna? Do you need a bit of mentha piperita or zingiber officinale ?" asked Master Raymond, surprised at my admission and offering me peppermint and ginger.

"No, what I need is te ken if ye sold bitter cascara te anyone, namely… Le Comte Saint German? " I asked him to "All of my symptoms were brought on verra suddenly after one sip of champagne - a glass of champagne that appeared before me shortly after the appearance of Saint Germain himself at Versailles, who was watching me verra closely."

"Bitter cascara to Saint Germain? Oh, Madonna," said Master Raymond, clearly in a bit of shock. "I… I have only sold it once in the last several months, to a servant I did not recognise. I suppose it is possible she could have been working for Monsieur Le Comte but I swear, I did not know!" For a moment, he paused in thought. "Come with me, Madonna."

"And where are we going?" I asked him suspiciously as he turned.

"To a safe place," he said. Intrigued, I followed him to his hearth, and with the removal of a box from the shelf, a hand crank was revealed hiding behind it. Master Raymond cranked it, opening the brick wall behind the hearth, then replaced the box and stepped through it, beckoning me to follow. I ducked my head and stepped through, dragging my skirt through the ashes, standing as Raymond closed the wall with a similar hand crank on the other side.

The room I had entered was filled with the skulls of various animals, reptiles, and even humans. I was surprised by this collection of skulls, some of them appearing to be ancient. "What… what is this?" On a shelf built into the wall, I saw an altar had been made, featuring an image of… "Is that… Brigid?"

"Goddess of the hearth, of fertility, of medicine… Oui , Madame, it is," Master Raymond confirmed. "You are familiar with Pagan deities?"

"I'm a Pagan meself," I told him. "Celtic Paganism, specifically."

"Then surely, you shall understand the need for this room," said Master Raymond. "The gendarmes pass by with prying eyes, and the king is not enamoured of the mystical art, nor of deities not worshipped by the Catholic faith. We must be wary not to invoke his ire."

"No, of course no'," I agreed, admiring the room, which was filled with symbols that I didn't recognise. "But ye dinnae just practice Celtic paganism, do ye?"

"Your eyes are sharp, Madonna," he told me, picking up a skull from a table on the other side of the room and turning to show me. "A very old and rare species," he said. "Such beasts are no more. I find that I am fascinated by things that are… not of this time." There was a strange look in his eye, and I raised an eyebrow curiously. "Is something else on your mind?" He placed the skull back on its stand.

"No, of course not. Well, er… I suppose there's always somethin' on my mind," I said. "My son, Brian, he… He doesnae have the greatest health. I worry fer him. And Archie, too. They were both born early."

"Let us see if we can take a peek into their future," said Raymond, picking up a small velvet sack and giving it a shake in both of his hands. "These bones shall give us an answer. They are sheeps' knuckles. Bring your question to mind, and they shall have the answers." He opened the small velvet sack, then spilled the bones onto the table, surprising me a little. They clattered all over the table in various positions, and I stared at them as if they would tell me what it was I was looking for, but to me, they only looked like, well… bones on a table.

"I… I am no' familiar with… bone reading," I said somewhat shyly.

"I would not expect you to be, Madonna. Fortune telling is a difficult trade," he told me. "Hmm… It appears that the bones are unclear… The fate of your sons is not visible to me, but I can see that at least one of them will always be with you, never to leave your side. Tell me, is there a… Thomas… in your life?" At the mention of Tom's name, I felt my stomach drop, my eyes widening immensely as I looked up at Raymond.

"Yes, he… he's an old friend… But what does he have te do with my sons?" I asked curiously.

"The bones do not say, but this old friend of yours will, in some way, be in your son's life," said Master Raymond. Before I could ask what he meant, he swiped the bones up with one hand and dispensed them back into the little velvet sack, then approached a cabinet that had a lot of the unfamiliar symbols, unlocking it with a large key that he produced from around his neck. He opened it and removed a large stone on a black string, holding it flat on his palm. "The symbols on that cabinet are a spell to ward off those who know the mystical arts. It is a protective spell, harmful only to those familiar with it. But this , Madonna, is for you."

"It's beautiful… What is it?" I asked, accepting the stone and holding it in my palm to admire it.

"A stone for protection," answered Master Raymond. "It will change colour in the presence of poison."

"So this… magic stone… will keep me safe?" I asked. It looked like a bit of quartz, but it was light as a feather.

"Some might call it magic, others might call it nature," said Master Raymond. "I certainly do charge more for it when I do, but for you, Madonna, there is no charge. A gift, if you will."

"Blessed Bride," I said, more to myself. "I cannae thank ye enough, Master Raymond."

"You are a friend, Madonna, and I do prefer to keep my friends safe," said Raymond kindly. I looked down at the stone in my hands once more. A magic stone meant to detect poison… Let Saint Germain try to harm me now.

I returned home and gave my gloves and hat to a servant at the door, who informed me that Jamie wanted to see me in the study. I made my way to the study, surprised to hear the sound of childlike giggling inside, and when I pushed open the door, I found Jamie holding Archie, bouncing him on his lap. Beth was also in the room with Brian, but he was fast asleep - something he did a lot of lately. When I entered the room smiling at the sight before me, Jamie looked up at me, his happy expression fading just a little. "Where were ye?" he asked me.

"At Master Raymond's. I kent he sold bitter cascara in his shop and I wanted te see if he might have sold some te-"

"Ye should have let me handle it, Catrìona, and stayed home in bed. Ye were violently ill not even two days ago," he told me, not firmly but definitely scolding.

"Jamie, I'm fine now. It wasnae that big of a deal," I told him.

"Ye were poisoned, Catrìona. Ye need te be restin," he told me.

"It wasnae actual poison, Jamie. It was a herb," I spat back.

"Are herbs no' used as poison?"

"Jamie! I ken what herbs are poisonous and what ones arenae, and I ken verra well the effects of bitter cascara, now firsthand. Bodies are far more resilient than ye think. I am fine. "

"But-"

"Which of us is the healer, Jamie? Do you ken anythin' aboot herbs?" Jamie was silent for a moment, and then he sighed.

"I'm sorry, I just worry aboot ye. Ye arenae one te rest. Ye should have been restin' after havin' the lads," he told me sincerely.

"And if I had, ye wouldnae be here holdin' yer son on yer lap," I told him, approaching my husband and son, who looked identical to each other, and bending down to kiss Archie's red curls, and then kissing Jamie's matching red curls. "Where we are now… if I had te do it all over again, I would. There's nothin' ye can say or do that would make me say otherwise." I bent to kiss him.

"Will ye at least rest a little?" he asked me.

"As much as I need to," I told him. "So, how are things with Duverney? Does Charles still want te meet with him?"

"He does, and I ken Sandringham has never directly met him, too," Jamie told me. "I'm certain that once Charles does speak te Duverney and proposes this alliance between England and France, the king will be intrigued."

"It's a fantasy, and Charles kens tha' well, I'm sure," I said, leaning against the desk behind me.

"Maybe, but it's a temptin' prize. And if Charles secures the funds from Sandringham, then the king may join him as well," said Jamie. "What if… we host a dinner? Invite the Duke, the prince, Duverney, even Alasdair Fowlis, start a conversation aboot politics. I'm sure the Duke will want te take measure of the prince and decide if he's the man worth stakin' his fortune and his life on."

"If Charles managed te convince Alasdair Fowlis te back him after Clan Fowlis has explicitly stated they'll no' participate in a Jacobite uprisin', then Charles may be convincin' when he has a mind te be," I told him.

"Then we need te stage the occasion te undercut Charles and lead him te make a mistake in front of the Duke. Expose himself fer the delusional popinjay that he is," said Jamie. It hit me suddenly that if Sandringham and Jamie were to be under the same roof, then it was likely that the Duke would mention Randall, and at the thought, my face fell. "Do ye think I'm mistaken?" Jamie asked me, seeing my face.

"Huh? Oh, no, no' at all. It's a good plan, if we can think of somethin' te upset Charles enough," I told him.

"Yer face disagrees with yer words," Jamie replied, chuckling gently.

"No, no, it's no' that at all. It's just…" I began, struggling with how to begin. I had to be the one to tell Jamie, and I had to tell Jamie right now. I didn't realise how hard it was going to be to inform him about Randall's survival. "Beth, could ye take the lads and give us a minute?" I asked, looking at the young girl on the settee.

"Of course, Mistress," she said, standing and settling Brian in one arm.

"Dinnae fash aboot Archie, I've got him," Jamie said, tightening his grip a little on his son.

"Certainly, my Laird," said Beth, and she curtsied to us both and left.

"This must be serious if ye want te speak in private," Jamie said a little playfully, giving Archie his finger to suck on.

"Once ye hear it, I think ye'll agree," I said. "Just… promise me that if ye get angry, ye'll give me Archie." At this, his face fell.

"This must be verra serious," he said. "What is it?"

"Well," I began, and then I sighed. It was better to just rip off the damn bandage and get it over with than to wait. "It… it's Randall, Jamie. He's alive." I saw Jamie's expression change quite quickly, but it didn't appear to be angry - not yet. "When we went te Versailles in February, I met his brother, Alex. Alex Randall works fer Sandringham and he said that Randall was 'injured in the line of duty', but… he's verra much alive."

"This… ye… Ye've known since February and… and ye didnae tell me?" Jamie asked me, his emotions confusing me quite a bit.

"Both Murtagh and Cailean agreed with me that it wouldnae be wise te tell ye. We didnae want ye te go after him," I told him.

"This is… wonderful news," Jamie said suddenly, and then he let out a hearty chuckle. I raised an eyebrow; wonderful news? "But ye didnae have te wait so long te tell me!"

"I… I… wasnae expectin' this reaction," I told him as he stood, and he tossed Archie playfully in the air, catching the giggling infant and kissing his cheeks.

"Ye hear tha', my lad? Daddy can finally get revenge fer what was done te him!" Jamie exclaimed excitedly, hugging Archie tightly to his chest.

"What? Jamie!" I exclaimed, standing up from the desk.

"Don't ye see, mo nighean? This has plagued me fer months, and you as well! Do ye think I dinnae see it? I thought that Black Jack Randall died and I missed it, kennin' I'd never look in his face and see the blood drainin' from his body, watch him breathe his last…"

"Jamie, ye cannae go back te Scotland!" I exclaimed again.

"No, I'm no' foolish enough te give the hangman a second chance at me," he said, holding Archie and kissing his head. "Nor do I intend te abandon our task here, but ye've given me somethin' te hold onto, somethin' te look forward to…" He looked down at Archie and smiled into his sweet little face, his grey eyes watching his father with fascination. "…and that is a gift. Another gift, in addition to the two gifts ye've given me already." He then turned his attention to me, then approached me and placed his hand on the back of my head, drawing my face closer to his to kiss me. "Thank ye, truly."

"I'm jus'… glad yer happy," I said, smiling at him. "And glad ye'll no' do anythin' brash. I'm all fer killin' Randall, but no' at the cost of you." I took his face in my hands and kissed him again. Come, why don't we take the lads fer a stroll? It's cooler today, and it'll help Brian's breathin'."

"Sounds perfect," he told me affectionately, and he kissed me a third time. " Tiugainn, mo chuisle, let us go and fetch yer brother!" he said to Archie, who giggled in response, and I watched as Jamie left the room with Archie. I was glad he wasn't going to run off and kill Randall right away, but I was still worried. Sometimes, what Jamie said was quite different from what he actually did .