I do not own TVD or TO or Outlander

I'm sorry about the delay in updating. I wanted to get Unobtainable finished before going back to work this week.

1968, Boston

She slid around the milling students and adjusted the heavy bag on her shoulder. She still wasn't sure what had possessed her to start taking classes at Harvard; maybe she was just bored.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she was searching; searching for answers. She was searching for the patterns she could trace into the present. Surely Kol's siblings had left footprints in time; they had lived long enough that there had to be a trace.

Maybe that was why she was taking history classes.

Her shoe caught on one of the cobblestones while she was lost in thought. She stumbled and bumped into another body. She managed to keep herself upright but the books in both of their arms went down spreading papers across the ground.

"I'm so sorry," she apologized profusely. Kneeling on the ground she started gathering up papers and textbooks.

"Nah, it was partially my fault. I'm really distracted today."

"So am I," Lexa chuckled.

"Hey," the woman tilted her head, "I know you. You're the girl in my WWII class. You were correcting the professor."

"Well," Lexa eyes flashed, "I don't like it when people deny the truth."

"You got into quite the debate today." She held out her hand. "I'm Brianna by the way."

"Lexa," she shook the proffered hand.

"How many were you saying were killed?" Brianna fell into step beside her on the way to the library.

"Millions," Lexa frowned. "The numbers were in the millions; it had to be at least six. I don't like people who denied the Holocaust happened."

"Clearly," Brianna nodded, "I thought you were going to haul off and smack Professor Green. Not that the man doesn't deserve it; he's a bit of a pig; I'm not really sure how he got the job."

"Anti-Semitic pig," Lexa nodded. "That tracks." She glanced through the corner of her eyes to find Brianna watching her critically. "What?"

"Nothing," Brianna shook her head. "It's just that… you were so passionate about it. It was almost like you lived through it. Obviously not the case, but it was amazing to watch."

It was something, Lexa's breath caught in her throat. Her eyes took on a haunted look when she remembered the Second World War. Images flooded her mind: gaunt children, hollow eyes, and mass graves. She could almost smell the stench of burning flesh and putrid disease.

"Are you alright?" Brianna reached out and took Lexa's arm.

Lexa swallowed and dispelled the images and smells while cursing her perfect memory. She never could seem to forget anything. She still remembered the smell of the herbs and the gentle caresses of his fingers. She could summon the brilliant turquoise of her mother's eyes and see the petals of her favorite dress that had long since turned to dust. She still saw the hard set of Mikael's jaw and felt the way her shoulder had been wrenched from its socket.

"I'm okay," Lexa closed her eyes and exhaled. "I was just thinking about it. Have you ever seen some of the images? They're haunting; it sticks with you."

"I have," Brianna frowned, "I try not to think about them too much."

Lexa turned to face her when they paused outside the library. She couldn't shake the feeling that she had seen Brianna somewhere before. Her red hair, slanted dark blue eyes and high cheekbones pulled at her memory, but for the first time in centuries her mind was not cooperating.

"You look really familiar," Lexa tilted her head.

"We are in the same class, Lexa," Brianna chuckled.

"I don't think that's it," Lexa shook her head. Her hair was the colour of a red deer's pelt; incredibly familiar to her and unknown at the same time.

"Well," Brianna smiled, "maybe you've seen me wandering around the campus."

"Maybe," Lexa agreed. She knew that wasn't it though.

Lexa pursed her lips and examined the brick building in front of her. The soft strains of Christmas carols floated through the window that had been opened to cool down the house. Colourful lights glinted on the tree displayed in the center of the window.

She adjusted the full red skirt of her party dress and took careful steps across the ice strewn path that led to the front door. Raising her hand she knocked tentatively.

The music grew louder when the door was opened by a tall man. She blinked in surprise when she recognized his heavy accent.

"Good evening," he greeted and offered to take her coat.

"Hello," Lexa shed the black wool and brushed the snow from her heels. "I'm Lexa, a friend of Bree's. She invited me. Is she here?"

"Aye," he smiled and nodded to the main room, "she's talking to her mum."

Lexa followed his gaze. She could easily see Brianna where she was facing the entry way. Her vision was partially obstructed by the slim back of the dark haired woman facing her friend.

"I'm sorry," Lexa turned back to him with a smile, "I didn't catch your name. And I'm assuming if you're answering the door that you're someone I should probably be familiar with."

"Roger Mackenzie," he offered her his hand after hanging her coat in the closet.

"Lexa Ricci," she tilted her head. "Are you from the highland Mackenzie's by any chance?"

"You recognized my accent," Roger chuckled. "My family did hail from the area." He led her into the living room and offered her a glass of punch.

Lexa had barely swallowed down her first sip of punch when Brianna took her arm.

Several hours had passed talking and laughing with Brianna and the family friends. She was just getting ready to pull on her jacket and leave when Brianna caught her arm and pulled her back into the living room where Roger was sitting with an older woman.

"Don't go running of on me now," Brianna laughed. "I want you to meet someone before it gets too late."

"Yes," Lexa shook with laughter, "I do tend to get crabby as the hours drag on."

"Not what I meant," Brianna murmured.

It was clear Lexa was not meant to hear that, but she had. She had heard many things not meant for her ears over the centuries; it was one of the many things she had gotten from him. At least, that was what she assumed.

"Lexa," Brianna stopped by the tree, "I want you to meet my mom. Mom this is my friend…"

"Alexandria?"

Lexa's eyes grew round when she finally got a clear look at the woman she had been skirting around all night.

"Claire Fraser?" Lexa's eyes swiveled from Claire to Brianna and back. "Dios mio," she whispered with her hand over her mouth. Her free hand lifted of its own accord and fingered a few strands of hair. "Dios mio…"

"You two know each other?" Brianna's eyes fell to the fingers now in her hair. "How do you two know each other?"

"She was…" Claire trailed off as she stared at the blonde. She couldn't get the image of the 18th century dress out of her mind.

"She called you Fraser," Brianna took a step back from Lexa.

"I… I…" Lexa's mouth opened and closed a few times.

Claire ignored her daughter's quick questions and the inquisitive eyes of Roger. She stood slowly and came to stand in front of the petite blonde. She hadn't known her that well, but Lexa had very distinctive eyes. It wasn't possible for a descendant to look so much like their ancestor. Besides she had called Claire by her married name.

"How are you alive?" Claire tilted her head.

"It's a long story," Lexa crossed her arms over her chest. "One you wouldn't believe. How are you still alive?"

"It's a long story," Claire returned with a smirk. "One you wouldn't believe."

Lexa shook her head and sighed. "I've been walking this earth a long time Mrs. Fraser…" she arched an eyebrow, "… you'll find there is very little I won't believe."

Lexa turned her gaze from Claire to her daughter. "Brianna? Scottish in origin. Would I be correct in assuming her hair and eyes are very familiar for a very specific reason?"

She caught the way Claire's heart skipped a beat. "I thought so," Lexa rolled her eyes heavenward before smiling at Brianna. "You look just like your father."

Brianna stared in shock at the woman she had become friends with over the past year. "I'm confused," she murmured quietly, "you knew him?"

"I knew him," Lexa turned her gaze to the tree. She had to assume Roger was up to date on the situation; he probably knew more about it then she did. "I'm glad to see he found you Claire. I assume Jamie found you. I found him you see, and sent him after I'd sent Ned Gowan."

"You sent the lawyer," Claire nodded for her to sit on the couch. "That was very brave of you."

"No it wasn't," Lexa shook her head, "if I were being brave I would have stayed and helped you myself, but I ran."

"You ran?" Claire smoothed down her skirt when she sat. "I'm still reeling with how you're alive… and the same person."

"Like I said you wouldn't believe me," Lexa sighed. "I'm sorry Claire. I should have stayed. I should've broken you out of that thieves hole and helped you get away, but I was scared."

"You know each other?" Brianna raised her voice and interrupted Lexa's musings.

"You're friend here lived in the village beneath Castle Leoch," Claire sighed before turning to Brianna. "She hasn't aged a day."

"I stopped aging long before that," Lexa laughed. "Those were the early days though when I tended to get this big ball of lead in my chest whenever I heard a mob yelling witch."

"There is no such thing as witches," Brianna kicked off her shoes and crossed her legs.

"There is no such as time travel either," Claire gave her a pointed look.

"Time travel?" Lexa cocked an eyebrow. Realization dawned on her face. "The standing stones in Inverness? What are they called…? Craigh na Dun? I've heard of people disappearing from stone circles." She turned her head to face Claire. "I always knew there was something off about you. You and Geillis Duncan."

"She travelled through the stones as well," Claire frowned at the memory.

Lexa lapsed into silence for a moment before remembering what Brianna had muttered under her breath.

"Are you going back? Is that what Bree meant by 'before it's too late'?" Lexa's eyes flickered over Claire's face.

"Could we maybe get back to you?" Roger cleared his throat when Brianna nudged him. "We've established that you were there with Claire but how come you haven't changed or aged?"

"It's not a story I want to share," Lexa swallowed. "Just know that I didn't go through the stones. Claire skipped through time while I endured it."

"You lived through history?" Brianna leaned forward. "You lived through the world wars?"

"And many more I'd rather not discuss," Lexa shook her head. "You want to know why I got so passionate about the Holocaust, Bree? It's because I was there. I saw one of the death camps the week before the end."

She could still remember the screams. She could still remember the migraine she had given herself putting every officer to sleep and clearing a path along the tracks.

"I saved fifty people that day," her sleeping spell hadn't lasted long enough, "and woke up in a mass grave." She had never been more grateful for the spell she had learned for short range transportation. "They shot me," she answered the unasked question. "Here," her finger traced along her ribs. "Enough about me," she shook herself, "back to you: are you planning to go back? Because if you are you should know what you need."

She should have known better than to step from the room that night. She should have stayed there and closed her eyes. She should have waited out the dream until waking.

She should not have strayed.

That was all she could think when she stepped through the door. She blamed her subconscious and the discussion she'd had with Brianna earlier that day. That was the only reason she could think of for why she found herself in a mass grave beneath several bodies.

Panic settled in her core when she couldn't move. The words for the spell flew away as the stench of death permeated her nose.

She closed her eyes tightly and tried to move. Her limbs struggled against the weight of the dead crushing the air from her lungs.

The screams for help were muffled, and she was certain they were pointless but scream she did. Screaming seemed to be the only thing she could do.

The sound died in her throat when she felt strong hands close under her arms. The weight of the dead shifted as her body was torn from the pit. She was prepared to struggle against the hands when they pressed her to lie back in the softest grass she had ever felt and retreated.

Peeking through her eyelashes she opened her eyes completely and caught his hand before he could stand.

"Where do you think you're going?" The horror of the grave was quickly fading away as the smell of lavender and honeysuckle rose from his hands.

"I was under the impression you wished for me to leave," he smiled and stretched out beside her.

"Never," Lexa swore. "I never want you to leave."

"Then here I'll stay," he ran his thumb lightly over her knuckles and stared up at the stars.

She sighed at the ghostly touch that was more like a whisper against her skin. Her eyes found his profile in the light of the crescent moon hanging overhead.

"This isn't real, is it?" She should have stayed in the room where her subconscious didn't respond.

"It's as real as you want it to be," he lifted her hand and kissed her palm.

Unlike the nights they had shared in her bedroom his kiss was cool; the echo of a memory from a day long ago.

"I want it to be real," she smiled sadly, "but it's not. I'm starting to think I'll never actually see you again."

"You see me every night in your dreams."

"It's not the same, mi amor," she rolled onto her side. "I want to see you. I want to lay my head on your chest and feel your beating heart. I want to hear your voice and the breath in your lungs, but I don't think I ever will."

"Yes you do," he whispered. "If you didn't you wouldn't be taking those classes. You wouldn't be looking everywhere for a sign of my siblings. You know you'll see me again."

"How do you know that?" Lexa rolled her eyes at his response.

"Sometimes you know things."

"Sometimes I'm delusional," she scoffed, "and prone to wishful thinking."

"That's not it, little witch," he rolled onto his side and gently tapped her temple. "This is something you know."

She released a breath of air when the sun rose and he disappeared. She sat up when he was gone and stared at the soft blue ribbon on her white dress before standing and walking through the tall grass until she found the crashing waves of the ocean.

What do you think?

The next chapter is going to mostly take place in her dreams. I'm thinking it will be June 22, 1992... the first of the prophetic dreams that start leading her to NOLA, but not before meeting the sisters in San Francisco... we're getting close.