A blinding light was the first thing he saw when he woke up. He'd never seen such a bright light contained in such a small place. Jamie blinked several times tilting his head to move his eyes away from the light above him. His head seemed to be the only thing he could move. Jamie lifted his arms and legs only to find them constrained to the cushion below him, white leather straps holding his limbs in place. Jamie struggled against them, hoping he'd be able to get at least his hands loose, but he couldn't. He threw his head into the mattress below him in defeat. Where was he?

He didn't know where he was but the smell of the room… he'd been here before, at least a place similar to it. Jamie closed his eyes and took a large whiff of the nauseating smell– it reminded him of the place Ian had stayed in after losing his leg. Hospital. He was in a hospital. Hospitals were different now than in his time. He was completely alone, for one, not shuffled off in some corner while tens of men were placed around him. He was sure of his location now, but why?

The last thing Jamie remembered was standing on the road and Claire screaming his name before it all went black. If he was here then she must be too. Their history proved she would never leave him, especially while he was injured. Jamie flexed his wrists again gauging the tightness of the bonds which held him. Then he heard her. His Sassenach. His head turned towards her voice only to see her through the window arguing with a man.

Whatever they were discussing clearly had her upset. Her hands were moving quickly, a habit she fell into when distressed. She would talk for a few seconds only to be cut off by the man to who she was speaking. His interruptions as much as his words seemed to be the cause of her uneasiness.

"Claire?" Jamie called trying to get her attention. His voice was hoarse and incredibly dry. "Claire?" He tried again but with the same result, she couldn't hear him. Jamie watched as Claire ran a hand through her hair and shook her head. The man disappeared and Claire stiffened with the approach of another, but this one he knew, Frank Randall.

Claire had once told him about the resemblance Frank shared with his distant not-direct bloodline relative "Black Jack" Johnathan Randall. Jamie knew realistically that this man was Frank, he had to be, but that didn't stop the chills from racing down his spine as the man who appeared to be Johnathan Randall, his personal tormenter, reached out a hand and gripped Claire's elbow. She immediately pulled herself from his grasp only for Frank to grab her by her forearms.

Frank held her tight and to Jamie's surprise she listened to what he was saying. She didn't interrupt or look away from Frank, all of her attention was aimed at him. Until Frank pointed at Jamie, her eyes instinctively followed in his finger's direction and their eyes met through the window. Claire smiled and finally pushed Frank away before she rushed into the room.

"Jamie?" she was at his side in seconds.

"Claire," he leaned his head into her hand as she stroked his hair. "where are we? What's happened?"

Claire's eyes ran down his body before returning to his own, "You were hit by a car, Jamie."

"Car?" he repeated.

"The metal horses," she corrected herself. "It wasn't going very fast, thank God, but it knocked you off your feet, that was a few days ago."

"What about ye and the bairn? Y'er all right?"

"We're fine," Claire nodded placing a hand on her abdomen. Jamie heard the scoff before he saw the source. They turned to the door to find Frank standing just inside the threshold holding a fedora in his hand with a scowl on his face.

"They're not fine," Frank began. "she's extremely malnourished and dehydrated. What? You couldn't be bothered to feed her?"

"A mhic an diabhoil!" Jamie struggled against the straps. "Once I get out o' here you'll pay for those words! O' course I took care of her. What kind of mind must you think me to be not to take care of my wife?"

"Your wife," Frank muttered.

"Jamie, calm down," Claire placed one hand on his chest and the other on his shoulder to keep him firmly on the bed. "Frank," she turned to Frank. "stop before you get him all worked up."

"I dinna want to be here," Jamie said letting Claire's bodyweight push him into the bed.

"I know, I know," Claire moved her hand from his shoulder to his hair. "you have a concussion. You need to calm down or they're going to give you another sedative. Please, Jamie."

"All right," Jamie nodded. "for ye, I shall calm myself." Jamie looked over Claire's shoulder to stare at Frank.

"Frank, can you give us a moment?" Claire asked not turning to look at him.

After a few seconds of hesitation, "All right, but I'll be right outside. Watching." Frank turned from the room and shut the door behind him. True to his word Jamie could see Frank staring at them intently through the glass window.

"We're in 1948, April 16th to be exact," Claire said as she began to loosen the straps from Jamie's wrists. "The time seems to parallel though off by two years."

"Why was I bound?" Jamie asked rubbing his wrists.

Claire sighed, "The man who hit you with his car drove us to the hospital. Once we arrived, I told them my name, as I'm known here, Claire Randall. Somehow… I can't explain it but Frank saw you, Jamie."

"What do ye mean?"

"He knew what you looked like. After I went missing he and the police believed I'd been kidnapped by some Scottish Highlander, by you, and they put out wanted posters– uh, broadsheets. Your face is on them, and when the staff recognized you they insisted on binding you. It took persuasion from me to even treat you, I couldn't talk them out of the straps, they called the police who in turn called Frank. He arrived only a couple of hours ago." Claire explained taking his hands in hers.

"Och," Jamie tore his eyes away from Frank and looked at Claire. "What did ye tell him?"

"I told him about the stones, Paris, the Jacobite uprising, Prestonpans, Culloden Moor– everything," Claire said.

"Everything?"

"Yes," Claire confirmed. "I told him we were married and that I'm pregnant with our baby. But I don't think he believed me until he saw your sword. After the defeat on the Moor the British disarmed Scotland, they banned all weapons. Apparently, finding a genuine Scottish sword from the 18th century is a rare occurrence, that and our clothes seemed to convince him enough."

"Where is it? My sword?"

"Your sword was confiscated by the police,"

"And my tartan?"

"I'm sorry, Jamie," Claire shook her head. "it must've fallen when you were hit. I went back to try and find it but I couldn't." She cupped his cheek. "I know how important it was to you."

"Aye," Jamie nodded not bothering to hide the tears that had come to his eyes. Despite his wife sitting in front of him Jamie couldn't help but feel as though he'd lost everything. His family and friends were dead; his culture completely obliterated, only known to those interested enough to look. "I need a moment." Jamie laid back into the mattress and gazed at the wall beside him.

"Jamie…"

"Please, Claire, just a moment."

"All right," Claire stood from the bed. "I'll be right outside, okay? Call me if you need me." She went to run a final hand through his hair but he moved away from her touch. Claire walked out of the room and joined Frank to watch through the window.

"Is he all right?"

"Do you honestly care?"

"No, but you do."

Claire bit her lip, "I'm worried, Frank. Jamie is a stubborn man, and though he lives a life of uncertainly he thrives on stability. I'm not sure how he's going to adapt if he will at all."

Claire's fears proved to be correct. Over the next few weeks, Jamie had an increasingly hard time adapting to the world around him. Once he'd been discharged from the hospital, Jamie absolutely refused to step foot inside of a car, Claire didn't blame him since his first interaction with them had ended badly, but walking around Inverness proved to be a bad idea. The city had grown over ten times the amount from his time and Jamie had gotten lost almost instantly. The landmarks, buildings, and roads he once used to find his way all had vanished, only a single familiar place remained; a Catholic church which Jamie insisted on visiting every morning. Claire soon learned that Jamie and cars didn't mix well at all, after five minutes in the car they'd had to slam on the breaks so Jamie had enough time to get out of the vehicle before vomiting. He hadn't gotten in one since.

A new wardrobe had been the first thing Claire wanted to procure for him, and he'd been sorrily disappointed by the lack of kilts in the tailor's shop. "What kind of tailor in Scotland has no kilts?" he'd loudly screamed at the poor salesman. Though he had worn pants in Paris, Jamie preferred the freedom and breeze kilts offered. Claire won the battle on pants but couldn't convince him to wear boxers. He'd taken one look at them and refused to try them on. Claire decided that was one battle she'd let him win outright.

Her favorite moment so far was the first night Jamie had been released from the hospital. Claire had been waiting for days to introduce him to the wonders of indoor plumbing. A hot shower was just what he needed to settle him– he'd practically fallen asleep under the relentless stream. The toilet had been his greatest fascination. After its introduction, Jamie spent the next hour flushing the toilet over and over again watching the basin empty and refill much to Frank's annoyance. Claire refused to leave Jamie's side and Frank refused to leave hers; they were an unhappy trio; though Frank had been helpful on more than occasion much to her astonishment.

Claire hadn't been paying attention and didn't notice Jamie's newest bit of curiosity until she'd heard Frank yell. She'd whipped around to find Frank holding Jamie's hand inches away from the swirling blades of a fan. Why Jamie thought it a good idea to try and touch sharp blades she didn't know, but she was thankful Frank had stopped him or that would've been another trip to the hospital. Claire made sure to keep Jamie in her sights after that. Even though Frank had stopped Jamie from hurting himself, it wasn't a gentle action. He'd gripped Jamie's bad hand, his face contorting in pain, until she'd pried them away from each other.

She wasn't an idiot. She knew they hated to be around each other, she didn't miss the constant daggers of disdain eyed back and forth. She also didn't miss the look of jealousy on each man's face when she paid too much attention to the other. They were impossible to balance. In fact, the only other person Jamie seemed to get along with besides Claire was Mrs. Graham. Jamie and she had become friends almost instantly, having conversations in nothing but Gaelic which Jamie was disappointed to find was a dying language. They'd only met one other person besides Mrs. Graham who spoke Gaelic and even then he only knew key phrases. Jamie was drowning in a new world and Claire couldn't bring herself to take him out of Scotland, out of his home, as Frank wanted.

Frank wanted to return to their home in England, back to his job and their once shared life. At first, he'd suggested they leave Jamie with Mrs. Graham which Claire had promptly told him off for. Then, Frank agreed to bring Jamie with them to England. They could figure out what to do once they were settled, once she was settled. Jamie talked at first about going back through the stones but Claire reminded him it wasn't a safe place for him, her, or their child. So, here they stayed in Inverness, unsure of their next move. The pressure from Frank built more and more every day and Claire wasn't sure how much longer she could put it off.

She needed time to think.

"Jamie?" Claire stood in the doorway watching him as he turned the dial on the radio. "Don't sit too close, you'll hurt your ears." She walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Aye," he nodded leaning away from the radio but not stopping the dialing until the tale-tell signs of the 'Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy' played from the speakers. It was his favorite song much to Claire's delight. She often sang him to sleep with the Scottish version she'd created with Murtagh.

"I'll be back," she placed a kiss on his cheek. "Watch him, will you?" she asked stopping to stand in front of Frank's desk.

"I heard that song enough during the war, it's tiresome." Frank sighed not looking up from his book. "Must he play it over and over again?"

"Leave him alone, Frank." Claire watched as Jamie happily hummed along with the tune. "it's better than chasing an out of time Scotsman through the square, isn't it?"

"He's not my responsibility," Frank said finally looking up. "you wanted to keep him, he's yours to look after. I'm only here for you and the child."

"I'm bloody aware," Claire cursed slamming the door behind her. They'd rented a small apartment while Jamie adjusted to the time, in the middle of the city. She walked down the street to the corner shop to pick up some groceries for that night's dinner. Jamie had grown fond of cottage pie after the first time Mrs. Graham had made it for them. They had it several times a week.

"Potatoes actually saved many Scots from your time, Jamie, some wise farmer planted them before the Jacobite uprising and his farm and tenants survived better than most."

Claire and Jamie had shared a knowing look. It seemed Jenny had taken her advice and began potato farming straight away.

Claire quickly gathered the ingredients she needed for supper and headed straight back to the apartment. She rushed through the door arms laden with bags, "Ignore the pregnant woman carrying groceries by herself." She quipped when neither man offered to help her. She placed them down on the small table and wiped the sweat from her forehead. "Jamie, can you cut the vegetables once I'm finished washing them? The sooner we get supper ready the better, I'm absolutely famished." She frowned when Jamie didn't walk over or respond.

"Frank, where's Jamie?"

"He's by the radio, can't you hear it?"

"He's not over here," Claire walked around the room. "Jamie?" she checked the bathroom. "Frank, he's not here."

"What are you talking about?"

"Will you look up from that book of yours for ten seconds to see that he's gone?"

Frank sighed and put the book down onto his desk, "He couldn't have gotten far. He can't drive."

"Jamie!" Claire yelled out the window.

"Stop, you'll attract attention," Frank said pulling her back into the room.

"I don't care! Jamie's missing and we need to find him. He doesn't know this time, Frank, he's still learning, he's scared of the television for Christ's sake."

"Alright, calm down. I'll call Mrs. Graham and Reverend Wakefield to see if they've seen him, as I said, he can't go far on foot. We'll find him, Claire."

"We better, or I'll never forgive you, Frank, I swear it."