"Air-plane," Jamie sounded slowly staring in astonishment at the giant metal contraption in front of him as Claire grabbed his hand. Claire had already gone over every single detail of their upcoming journey numerous times with him. They had multiple stops on their way to America allowing time for both the plane and passengers to refuel. Jamie was to stay with Claire at all times, never to go far and always in her eyesight. Jamie was slightly annoyed that Claire was treating him like a wee bairn but preferred it to the cold shoulder she'd been giving Frank.

Frank hadn't been pleased when he learned that Jamie would be accompanying them to Boston. He'd grabbed Claire– rather roughly in Jamie's opinion – and dragged her into the bedroom. Jamie sat idly by the radio clutching his hand and listening to Claire and Frank as they shouted at each other. Frank stormed out of the room close to an hour later leaving Claire with a look he hadn't seen since their last meeting with Duke Sandringham. Since then, Claire had rarely looked at Frank, putting all her attention and focus on Jamie. Jamie didn't mind, of course, but he was constantly reminded of their situation with his wife's husband trailing behind them. A sentence he thought he'd never say.

They were ushered from the tarmac onto a small staircase before being led up into the airplane. Jamie was immediately aware of the enclosed space and could feel his body tense. Claire had warned him that planes were small and they'd be pushed together, but Jamie didn't know they would be this close. The stewardess led them to the middle of the plane and pointed Jamie to the seat next to the window. He slowly lowered into the seat with Claire sitting beside him and Frank in the row across the aisle.

As the seats around him filled and the plane began to rumble the knot in Jamie's stomach tightened and his breath quickened.

"Mary and Joseph," Jamie whispered clutching the armrests until his knuckles turned white as the plane started its ascent. "A Thighearna dìon mi…" he shut his eyes.

"It's all right, Jamie, it's okay," Claire covered his hand with her own. "it's all going to be all right."

"How is this even possible?" Jamie rolled his head to look at her. "How can metal be lifted sae high in the air?"

"What you need to worry about is the landing," Frank said with a huff.

"Bastard," Jamie closed his eyes again.

"Frank!" Claire shot Frank a warning. "It's sort of like magic," Claire began lifting Jamie's casted hand up to her lips to place a reassuring kiss. "the airplane produces forces that allow it to fly. You just need to get used it to, then you'll be better."

"Aye," Jamie gulped opening his eyes to look out the window. It was such a small movement that Claire wasn't sure she'd seen it at first, but Jamie had indeed moved closer to the window. He placed his hand on the glass, "It pains me tae leave my home. I will be back, I ken it, I have tae."

"I felt the same way when I was leaving for the war on the train," Claire spoke slowly. "as I watched Oxford disappear behind me, I didn't feel whole, like I'd left part of my soul on the platform." She moved her hand to rest on his upper thigh. "We will be back, Jamie, you have my word."

"I'm holding ye tae that promise, Sassenach," Jamie said moving away from the window. "distract me, please, since I canna drown my worries in whiskey."

"I've been thinking about names," Claire said smiling down at her abdomen. "Brian, of course, if it's a boy. After your father."

"Brian is a braw name… then again, so is Dalhousie."

"Never," she smacked his chest with a laugh. Jamie joined her in her fit of laughter and Claire couldn't remember the last time she'd a smile so genuine on his face. Maybe they truly could start anew in America.

Jamie grunted as he lifted the last box out of the truck and began carefully walking up the stone steps to their new home. Claire was watching his every move from her spot on the window nook, offering him instruction whenever she felt he needed it. They'd officially begun moving into their new home a few days prior, it was an old house with good bones, but had become neglected over the years; they got a good price for the work they'd have to put into the property. Work Jamie had spent the last few weeks doing. Frank worked long hours and Claire was become increasingly tired, leaving Jamie alone to tend to the needs of the house.

He painted, sanded, mended, oiled, and polished every ounce of the house until it looked brand new. He didn't mind the hard work, it reminded him of his childhood working on the farm and gave him a purpose. Unlike Frank, who was thriving in his new position in America, Jamie hadn't been able to find one. He had his heart set on working as a printer, even managing to get an interview for a small magazine office, but failed miserably once they placed a typewriter in front of him. He had no idea how to work it, only seeing Frank push a compartment back every once in a while. Claire apologized profusely; promising that once the house was done and she was feeling better she'd show him how to use one. Jamie shrugged the experience off, he didn't mind spending his days alone with Claire preparing their new home.

Frank would go off to work and it would be the two of them, just like it was two-hundred years prior. The first few weeks they spent their days painting the walls together, Claire wanted a fresh coat on every wall. Jamie took great pride in his work, carefully masking off each section before adding the newest layer. Claire teased him for his attention to detail, often remarking that they'd be done much sooner if he would just move his arse.

"This is no' just for us, Claire, 'tis for our bairn as well. Everything needs tae be perfect, ye ken?"

That comment had earned him a sweet reward. Claire practically tackled him onto the hardwood floor for a quick intimate rendezvous. Once the painting was done, Jamie moved on to patching various cracks in the wall while Claire started a garden in their yard. Nothing huge, she promised, she wouldn't be growing vegetables, but couldn't shake the habit of growing various medicinal herbs. Next, with the help of an electrician, of course, they'd fixed some of the faulty wiring in the old house. Jamie watched the electrician who upon noticing his interest, happily explained everything he was doing step-by-step. He'd even let Jamie wire one of the lights in the kitchen.

As Jamie walked into the kitchen and placed the box onto the counter, he put his hands on his hips and admired the freshly tiled backsplash he'd recently completed on Claire's behalf. He had a knack for home improvement so it seemed; Claire chalked it up to his natural skills while Jamie appreciated the modern tools. They were much easier to use than an old mason hammer and flimsy wrench.

He stepped aside as Claire walked into the room behind him and placed a vase onto the table, "Perfect." she smiled at him.

"Verra bonnie," he agreed kissing her temple and wrapping his arms around her. "ye ken, this may actually be home now."

"That's the point," Claire pulled him closer. "this is our home, Jamie, consider it the modern-day Lallybroch. Though I'm afraid you'll never be a proper laird."

"As long as I have ye, I'll always be laird." He dug his nose into her hair and sighed happily. He loved the special moments between them when they were alone before Frank come home and made everything awkward. "I love ye, Claire, dinna forget that."

"I promise."

Claire slowly walked over to the stove with a hand pressed on her back and reached above to grab the lighter on the shelf. She held the lighter to the gas valve on the stove and turned it on, willing for the stove to ignite, "C'mon… c'mon… Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!" she yelled when the stove refused to cooperate. She slammed the lighter onto the shelf and abandoned her task of cooking to sit on the couch in the living room. Her back ached, her feet were swollen and despite the advantage of modern-day medicine Claire didn't remember feeling this horrible when she was pregnant with Faith. Then again, she spent every day scheming with her husband against the French aristocracy to stop Charles Stuart and his rebellion. Unlike then, she actually had time to focus on her body.

Frank spent more and more time out of the house, which was fine with Claire, they'd finally settled on an agreement. Claire had Jamie; therefore, Frank was allowed to have someone too. He'd recently started dating a student of his on the down-low, the two of them spent an increasing amount of time together; Claire was happy for him. They remained married for legal pretenses only, his job provided them with indefinite residency in America while Jamie worked to became a citizen through law. He had to build a career and life in the state of Massachusetts for six years before he could become a citizen. Jamie had recently gotten a job working various handy-man jobs around the neighborhood. He stayed close to home, though they'd been in America for almost four months, Claire still wasn't comfortable with him venturing too far.

Claire sighed and rested her hands on her large abdomen, staring at the space in front of her. Suddenly, like a bolt of lightning, it hit her. She grabbed her keys and left a note for Jamie. An hour later she opened the trunk of the car and began slowly piling logs into her arms.

"Like some help with that?" A voice from behind made her jump. Claire looked up to see their neighbor crossing the street.

"Oh. No, I'm good, thank you." Claire responded but the woman had already begun to take the wood from her.

"Now just you never mind– I remember when I had my first, my back ached something fierce and the handsome, but lazy sack of bones I call a husband would never lift a finger."

"No, really, I can manage."

"Of course you can manage, my dear, but why should you if you can have help?" She took the last log from Claire, "Millie Nelson."

"Claire Fras– Randall." Claire shut the trunk of the car and walked into the house with Millie behind her. Millie placed the wood into the fireplace while Claire disappeared into the kitchen; once the fire was lit Millie sat back onto the loveseat. She watched in confusion as Claire reappeared with a steel rack and stew pot. Claire carefully put the rack over the logs and place the pot of stew on top.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" Millie asked a few minutes later sipping the cocktail Claire insisted on making her for her help.

"My uncle taught me how to cook over a campfire."

"Sounds dirty. All the ask and soot?"

"It gives the food this wonderful smoky flavor," Claire took a deep breath. "Smell that?"

"Yeah, smells like smoke." They both chuckled. "Your husband must like it, that's all that really matters, I suppose."

"Oh, yes, Jamie prefers food cooked over an open flame, reminds him of home."

"Jamie? The Scottish fellow? I thought you were married to Frank."

"I am," Claire corrected herself, "what I meant is that our tenant, Jamie, spends more time at home with me than Frank does. He might as well be my husband at this point, at least he acts like it."

Millie nodded in understanding, "Tell me about it! Jerry spends all day at work and I just have to have pot roast, meatloaf, or baked beans with cabbage waiting for him when he gets home. He'd have a heart attack if I did anything different," Millie grinned. "Hey, now there's an idea…"

"Jamie appreciates everything I do for him, you see, we're really his only family. Frank doesn't really like surprises as much, but, well, Frank can be very progressive, very open-minded… I'm sure he'll enjoy something different for a change."

"Smells like Heaven in here!" Jamie yelled announcing his arrival to the two women. He kicked off his shoes and walked into the living room bending down to get a better whiff of the dinner Claire was cooking. "I have no' eaten all day," he placed a hand on his stomach. "I canna wait tae try this." It was then that he seemed to truly notice Millie sitting near him.

"James Fraser," he held out his hand. "I dinna think we met yet."

"No… we certainly have not."

Claire rolled her eyes as Millie very obviously eyed Jamie up and down.

"What is it that you do, Mr. Fraser?" Millie reached out and placed a hand on Jamie's bicep giving him a firm squeeze. "You clearly keep in good shape."

"Och, I dinna do much. Just work around the house and such, ye ken?"

"Jamie's a handyworker," Claire explained.

"Oh, really? You know, I could use some help around the house, Jerry is useless," Millie laughed. "I'd happily pay you to come by and do some work."

"Aye, I'd be happy tae," Jamie stood stretching his arms and sighing when his back popped. "I'm gonna take a wash. I'll be down soon for supper, Claire." Jamie told Claire. "'Twas nice meeting ye, Millie." Jamie gave her a short bow before walking up the stairs to shower.

"My God," Millie whistled watching Jamie disappear. "How is your husband okay with him being alone in the house with you all the time?"

"Frank is… very trusting." Claire stirred the pot.

"Oh, well," Millie stood from her seat. "I should get going, I have dinner for my husband to start. It was nice talking to you, Claire, we should have lunch soon." Claire stood with Millie's help and walked her neighbor to the door. "And please send that delicious Scot to my house soon, if you don't want to take a bite of him, I will." Millie winked at Claire. "Goodbye now!"

Claire waved farewell before slamming the door shut behind Millie. Her neighbor seemed nice, but her blatant attraction towards Jamie drove Claire mad. She hated that she couldn't claim Jamie as her husband, they had to stick to their story; she and Frank were a happily married couple, and Jamie was simply an old friend from the war staying with them. Claire checked the food over the fire one last time before climbing up the stairs and stripping naked. She walked into the bathroom and pushed open the shower curtains.

"Christ, Sassenach! Ye scared me have tae death." Jamie yelled with his body covered entirely in suds.

"Shut up, and fuck me."