The Light in the Dark
Sussex, Virginia
31st March 1858

An endless abyss of emptiness lie before me; so dark and black that I could scarcely see my hands held out in front of me.

I didn't know where I was or how I got there, only that I needed to find a way out.

I took off running in one direction, thinking that perhaps if I ran long enough I'd eventually find a way out. But for all I knew, I could have been running for an eternity.

My entire body was screaming for me to stop, begging for a respite no matter how short. I could hardly feel my legs anymore, but what I could feel, was pain. My muscles were cramping and pain ran through my every nerve, shooting up my spine and wrapping itself around my racing heart.

The metallic-like taste of blood coated my tongue and throat as my lungs constricted painfully in my chest as they struggled to take in the oxygen they so desperately needed.

Each part of my body was like an instrument in an orchestra, each one joining in a grand crescendo of pain until my vision blurred and I collapsed altogether.

When I woke I found that darkness still surrounded me, but not the same black emptiness as before.

I was in a corner of some dank room, the only light source was a small torch near the door. A cell door.

Across the room I could see the dark silhouette of a man and I could hear him struggling to free himself from the chains to which he was bound.

There were also the far off screams that echoed through the building (a prison, most likely). Bloodcurdling, heart wrenching screams of men whose souls were damned to a hell on earth.

But the man before me did not scream, and it wasn't until the light of the torch glinted off of his hair—hair the same color as the fire that lit it— that I realized this man wasn't a stranger. This man was Jamie.

I felt my heart drop into the pit of my stomach, heavy and painful. I knew that this wasn't reality, that I was in a dream of sorts, but that didn't make what was about to happen any less real.

We were suddenly transported outside with a gray sky that loomed overhead; rain threatening to fall. We were in a courtyard of some sort, Jamie chained to a post atop a platform while I watched helplessly from the audience.

I didn't need to see to know what was about to happen or to whom the hand that held the whip belonged; I already knew.

I knew the man all too well and what he was capable of— I had experienced it myself.

Time seemed to pass in slow motion, making an already horrific event that much more agonizing; but that wasn't the worst part.

The worst part was that while I watched Jamie's back being flayed to the bone, I felt it too.

Every snap of the whip was followed by stinging pain, the tiny bits of metal at the ends burying themselves into my flesh and ripping it away.

Jamie was stronger than I was, because while he hardly did more than flinch, I was screaming and crying and begging for mercy amongst a crowd of people to whom I was invisible.

While the time I spent trapped and alone in the dark with Randall was horrific and traumatizing; it was a different type of abuse.

For me it was mind games and control, power over me and my body but for Jamie…

For Jamie it was physical. He had walls that refused to crumble at the hands of that bastard, so he resorted to physical violence.

But even that did not break him.

"Claire!"

I woke to find Jamie— the real Jamie—standing over me, concern coloring every feature.

I could still feel vestiges of the lash, the gaping wounds that covered the entirety of my back; and his.

One big hand came up to cup my cheek, my own eyes drowning in his blue ones.

"Are ye alright, lass?" His voice was deep, still thick with sleep.

Images flashed through my mind: the smell of blood, sticky and wet. Wrists rubbed raw from iron cuffs that were too small. Screams of men begging for their lives that no one would ever hear.

"No." I rasped, squeezing my eyes shut as if it would erase everything I had just witnessed.

"What's amiss?" The mattress dipped beneath our combined weight as he sat at the edge beside me.

I swallowed, throat suddenly thick.

I sat up, fully aware that I was only wearing a thin cotton shift that he could see right through, but I didn't care.

"Do you remember what you were telling me earlier? About you and Randall?"

I felt more than saw his body tensing at the name, I myself winced every time I heard it.

"Aye. What of it?" His voice was careful and measured, cautious of whatever would come next.

I rested my back more fully against the headboard, my hands mindlessly playing with the hem of my shift beneath the blanket.

"What happened?" I let out a deep breath, thinking that I already knew but wanting to hear it from him first.

Jamie let out a breath of his own, and sat silent for a long while before finally speaking again.

"That's a verra long story, Claire." He gave me a pointed look before his face softened and continued.

"I suppose you don't really know anything about me at all, other than the bits I've told ye." He smiled, taking my hand in his. A connection.

I gazed down at our join hands, a smile creeping onto my face. "No, I don't believe I do."

"Well, perhaps I should start by introducing myself? James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser, at your service." He bowed his head over our hands before kissing mine. The room was still and black, other than the glow of the fire in the hearth on the far wall; but I could still make out the dark pools of blue that stared up at me beneath auburn lashes.

"I grew up on an estate called Lallybroch in Broch Mordha. My father built the place himself, ye ken? My mother, Ellen, died when I was young; in childbirth. My older brother Willie died shortly before my mother due to the smallpox. So I was left with only my father and my older sister, Jenny."

Jamie released my hand before standing up and crossing over to the hearth, feeding more wood into the fire.

"Anyways, one day Randall came down to our place while my father was away. I was workin' up in the hay fields when I heard Jenny scream. I ran down to find a redcoat tearin' at the front of her dress so I knocked the bugger out cold. I'd told Jenny to run but the next thing I knew Randall was standing in the doorway with a pistol to her head. I'd no choice but to surrender."

"He'd tied me up in the dooryard and beat me with his riding crop while forcin' my sister to watch. After a while he'd gotten tired and said to Jenny, 'Have you seen enough? Or would you like to go inside and offer me better entertainment?' I told her not to, even if he slit my throat right before her eyes. He took out his knife and knocked me out cold. By the time I came to, I was joltin' down the road to Wentworth trussed up in a wagon with the chickens."

He stood and made his way back over to me on the bed, but he did not touch me.

"The English; they flogged me twice in the space of a week, though it was on a different charge."

"Which was?" I looked up at him expectantly, but he kept his gaze trained on the fire.

"I believe it was obstruction?" His brows furrowed as he thought back to his past life.

"Obstruction? What's that? It doesn't sound very serious." I added, curious.

He did look at me then, with half a smirk on the corner of his mouth. "'Spose it means whatever the English say it does." He shrugged and looked away once more.

"After the first flogging and on the day of the second, they were taking me to Randall when I saw my father. He'd tried to get me pardoned, but it was of no use. It was the last time I ever saw my father, his last words to me were 'You're a braw lad, son!' and he kissed me on the cheek."

"Randall told me that my father had tried to get me pardoned, but in order to do so he'd need the signature of some duke. He said even if he managed to get it he likely wouldn't make it back in time before they flogged me. So Randall offered me a proposition." Jamie stood again and stared into the roaring flames.

"He said 'Give yourself to me. Make free of your body, and I will make sure there is no second flogging.' My back was still raw after the first, I could scarcely bear my own shirt. So, I considered it. I had no real way of knowing, but I figured that being buggered would hurt a great deal less than gettin' flogged a second time. But I could still feel my father's kiss on my cheek… So, I couldn't do it." His head dipped forward, his hands scrubbing his face aggressively.

"Apparently my father was there in the audience the second time. I'd passed out after a while, due to the loss of blood. My uncle, Dougal, told me later that it was then my father had died. That he must've thought me dead; he made a small sound before falling to the ground, dead. Dougal said he died of a broken heart."

I heard the break in his voice and thought I saw the glimmer of a tear roll down his cheek. I stood and made my way over to him, kneeling beside him and taking his hand in my own.

"I'm sorry, Jamie." I said, squeezing his hand and bringing it to my lips.

He smiled and grasped my hand with his free one and finally looked me in the eye. "Och, it's no' your fault."

"But to make a long story short, my friends helped me escape and I got on the first ship to America I could find. I haven't looked back since, I only wish I could've said goodbye to Jenny. Said goodbye to my father's grave."

He shook his head and moved to stand, bringing me up along with him. "Suppose I should let ye get yer sleep, aye?" He smiled and released my hand, making to move toward the door before I stopped him.

"Stay? Just for a while?" I smiled, hoping he would agree.