Molly was two days away from leaving with Dougal and his men. She was going in blind. Sure, Molly tried to study the books and notes left behind from the former healer, but none of it made any sense to her. Either the writings were in Gaelic, which she was slowly understanding, or she was studying drawings of plants and fungi. Molly wasn't a botanist. She was a college drop out and a failed writer. It wasn't like she had time to do that much studying on top of her other responsibilities that kept her busy. Mrs. Fitz had her working; everything else had to be done on her own time, which was during meals or before bed. Panic had settled in, and the young woman wasn't sure how much longer she could continue playing her role.

The kitchen was alive with other women who seemed much happier than herself. Singing, gossiping with one another as they worked to prep for dinner. Molly wished she had that luxury. Her eyes kept a focus on her hands as she kneaded dough. However, her mind was elsewhere. Taking a moment to rest, Molly pulled up her apron to wipe away flour that managed to cling to her cheek. Taking in a deep breath, she began to work the bread dough some more but immediately interrupted. A basket dropped down next to her, kicking up a cloud of flour. Molly quickly paused what she was doing, trying to wave away the floating particles dancing in the air as she looked up to see who it was.

"Can ye do me a favor, dear?" Mrs. Fitz greeted with a warm smile. "I prepared this for the Fraser boy. He missed launch, and I'm sure the lad is hungry. Can ye bring it to him?"

Molly smiled politely; while she listened to Mrs. Fitz explain what she wanted her to do. It was fine. She had no qualms about taking a break from the kitchen but, she had no idea who the Fraser boy was. "I'm sorry, who?" She finally asked after sneaking glances at the contents in the basket. When she looked up, Molly met Mrs. Fitz's quizzical look. The older woman looked about as confused as Molly was starting to feel. After a few unsure moments.

"Jamie." Mrs. Fitz clarified.

Molly quietly looked at her for a moment, and suddenly it clicked in her mind who she meant. Now she knew where the confusion was. "Oh, you must mean Jamie MacTavish." She was sure Mrs. Fitz was simply mixing up names.

The older woman's brows furrowed together. "No. Fraser." She replied in a matter of fact manner.

Molly raised a brow at the response. More confused than ever. The two women stood there, uncomfortably watching each other in silence until."Jamie. Tall, handsome, mop of red hair?" She felt as if she was missing something.

"Aye!" The older female snapped back. Everybody knew who he was. How was this so difficult?

She knew it was rude, but she really couldn't help but let the soft chuckle pass through her lips. "I'm fairly certain that his name is MacTavish." She spoke with Jamie at least twice a week. She knew who he was. Hell, he even told her his name was MacTavish.

It had become obvious Mrs. Fitz had enough of the foolishness. Her brows narrowed as she reached over, pushing the basket of goodies towards the American. "And I'm certain his name is Fraser." She would know. "Are ye feeling okay, dear?" She had added, giving Molly a strange look before walking away.

No. Molly wasn't feeling okay. Molly's eyes fell on to the basket resting in front of her. She cleaned her hands across the bottom of her apron before removing it. Molly was so embarrassed, not to mention angry. He had lied to her, but people lied all the time. But when it happens from someone you consider a friend. That hurts. In this place, she didn't have a lot of friends. She was going to need to find out why.

The walk from the castle to the stables was not enjoyable. Molly's mind raced with all the nasty things she wanted to say to Jamie. With each hurried step she took, the American became angrier. Her eyes watched her feet as she moved across the grass. She had half a mind to keep the basket and make him starve for the night. But that was just petty.

Alone at the stables, Jamie was walking a young mare in the enclosed space. The Scotsman was unaware that anyone had joined him until he heard the raddling of the gate opening. A small grin slipped across his lips, noticing the American lass. "What ye doin out here?" He asked cheerfully as Molly's back turned. Soon she turned to face him. It became clear by the cold expression resting across her brow that she was not nearly as happy to see him. His gaze followed the brunette as she approached with the basket in hand.

"Here. A gift from Mrs. FitzGibbons enjoy." Molly explained as she shoved the basket into his arms. She was so angry with him, but once she was in front of Jamie, she didn't have the guts to say anything to him. Molly figured it was because she was not truthful about who she was either. But she couldn't tell anyone she traveled from the future. He was lying about his name. Somehow that seemed worst.

"Ye're mad." More like an outward observation. Molly didn't respond immediately but instead turned on her heel to walk away. Wanting to know what was wrong with his friend, Jamie quickly dropped the basket, grabbing Molly's arm, forcing her to turn back to look at him.

Quietly she looked up at him with a quizzical look. Her eye's looking in the opposite direction as she thought about how she wanted to approach him. After a few moments, she decided a direct approach was the best option. "Jamie… what's your name?" Molly asked. Jamie furrowed his brows. His mind spinning as he let out a nervous chuckle.

"I know your name isn't MacTavish… Jamie Fraser." Molly admitted once she realized he wasn't going to say anything. Though, to her surprise, the Scotsman didn't deny it.

His scowl softened as he took in a deep breath. "Aye," Jamie replied. "How did ye find out?" He replied as calmly as his nerves allowed.

"Mrs. Fitz. I stupidly referred to you as MacTavish, and she corrected me. I have never felt so idiotic in my life." The moment Molly started talking, she couldn't help but let it all out. Jamie had reached out for her, but she had brushed him away. "Why did you feel you had to lie to me?" She started, finding it difficult to keep her eyes from swelling with tears. "I'm new. I don't know very many people. You and Murtagh have been more than kind to me and…" Being cut off.

"I can explain everythin…" Jamie pleaded. He watched as the brunette wiped a tear from her cheek.

"Okay, Talk."

Jamie let out a deep breath giving a small nod. They were alone, and he knew they were, but he still found himself looking this way and that to make sure. Soon the two found themselves hidden in an empty stall. Jamie had propped himself up on a stool, first looking down at his hands folded in his lap, then up to Molly, who stood, back pressed up against the wall with her arms crossed along her chest. "I think ye should sit."

"No," Molly stated. "I think I'll stand." Her stare became more focused than ever on the Scotsman. Though, his own kept nervously looking away from her. Jamie was quiet; he was for a long time. An obvious sign he didn't want to talk about what it was he was going to tell her. They both knew Jamie didn't have a choice. He caught in a lie. Jamie knew lying some more was not an option. Finally, when Jamie did speak, he started like with any story at the beginning.

"Four years ago, the Redcoats flogged me…" He started. Molly didn't imagine this would be how his explanation would begin, but it certainly grabbed her attention. He continued with how they did it twice and in the same week. When asked why? Jamie explained how the first time was for escaping Fort William, and the second was for theft. And without being prompted, Jamie explained how it was Captain Randall who did the floggings. Suddenly, Molly found herself taking that seat after all. Her eyes grew wide, a lump formed in the back of her throat.

"Why did you escape Fort William Jamie?" She asked as calmly as she could. Trying to ignore the fact that the very mention of that monster's name ran chills down her spine.

"I was a prisoner," Jamie explained. He glanced up with a far-off gaze as every painful memory came flooding back. The smell of iron, the cracking of the whip, and Randall whispering in his ear. It haunted him every time he closed his eyes, along with the hideous scars painted across his back; Another gift from him.

"On what charge?" Molly questioned, still studying the male.

Bring his focus back on the brunette "Obstruction." He simply replied. It seemed like such an absurd answer that naturally, Molly had to ask what that meant. The only response Jamie gave her was a slight shrug of his shoulders, meaning it was whatever the hell they wanted it to mean. Complete unjust use of power and control.

The two fell quiet for what felt like a long time. Mostly it was figuring out what happens now. It was a big deal that Jamie told her that. She didn't take that lightly. Molly also knew that there was more he probably wanted to say to her, but he told her the truth; that's all she wanted. The rest will come in time.

"Jamie… I don't understand. I'd like to think we have become good friends. Why couldn't you share this before?"

Feeling a bit more relaxed now. The male ran his hands through his mop of red hair, releasing a breath as he leaned back. "I have a price on my head. Not a lot of people I can trust."

That was a fair enough point. People will do anything for a little taste of wealth, and that was true anywhere. Taking a moment to comprehend everything Jamie had told her. One thing kept crossing her mind that she didn't pay much attention to until this moment when Jamie revealed his dark history with Randall. A small smirk slipped across her lips, glancing over at the Scotsman. "Everything makes perfect sense now."

Unsure by what she meant. Jamie gazed up with a quizzical look hoping she would expand more on that thought of hers.

"I'm sorry." She offered. Letting out a small chuckle at his confusion, she explained. "It's just when you offered to let me ride with you, then sat with me around the campfire… you were trying to ask me about Randall, weren't you?"

"Aye." His cheeks became flushed from being called out.

"What about when you tried to lay next to me?" She added. Now she was just toying with the poor lad.

"Oh, I was truly cold." Offering up a mischievous grin. Playfully Molly rolled her eyes at her friends' response. She didn't believe that, but truthfully, he didn't strike her as a man who would force himself on her or any woman.

The kidding aside, Molly wished he had told her this sooner. She tried hard to forget her own experience with Randall, but the man was going to kill her; that wasn't something you forget. Hearing Jamie's horrific tale put in perspective how truly unhinged the Captain was. She had been lucky to get out of that situation alive. If Murtagh had not been there, the story would be different. That man risked everything for her. She felt like she didn't thank him enough.

She wasn't sure how long they had been talking, but she felt exhausted. The sun hung a little lower, and there was still plenty to do. Letting out a sigh, Molly slowly pulled herself to her feet. "I should go now." Her eyes followed Jamie as he completed the same action. "You can trust me, Jamie." She told him. Jamie, who was in the middle of putting his jacket back on, paused to look at her smiling warmly.

"I do," Jamie admitted. And that was the truth. Once they were out near the stable gates. "Will we see ye after dinner?" He asked casually. There was always some form of entertainment after they ate dinner, usually music. Molly never missed it, she enjoyed it, and Murtagh always seemed more than happy to translate for her.

"Not tonight. I'm tired, and I have things to do." Molly explained after thinking the question over. Jamie gave a gentle nod as he proceeded to open the gate for her when she suddenly turned on her heel. "If you see Murtagh… can you tell him I say hello?" the brunette asked with a soft smile.

"Of course." He offered. He kept his gaze upon her as she turned and walked away. Interesting. Jamie found himself thinking. He didn't see that coming. He knew that look. The wide-eyed gaze, and the longing hidden in her words. It was how Laoghaire always seemed to look at him and admittedly how he wished Molly would but never did. Their paths had crossed for an entirely different reason, but he felt a sense of pride for his dear friend. The poor bastard probably didn't even realize how smitten she was with him.

The night went on as usual. Dinner had ended. Everyone had their fill of pork and wine as they gathered together. The night full of life. The wine continued to flow as everyone waited for the entertainment to begin. Jamie snuck into the crowd in search of Murtagh, making sure to avoid certain people if he could help it. Just like their American friend had promised, Molly was nowhere in sight. Slowly moving behind a small group of women, Jamie caught the unmistakable Murtagh hiding in the back. The bearded male perched himself securely against the wall, arms folded in typical fashion. His brows furrowed like angry caterpillars, his head turning this way and that in search of someone. In a split second, the two made eye contact with Murtagh offering a slight nod of acknowledgment.

"The lass isn't here." Jamie addressed as he took his rightful spot next Murtagh. He wasn't stupid; Jamie knew who he was searching to find. Murtagh didn't say anything in fear of admitting to something. Jamie looked down towards the floor, adjusting his stance when he glanced back over towards Murtagh. There was something noticeably different about him.

"What!" Murtagh barked, becoming a little too self-aware for his liking. Jamie continued to observe him until he unfolded his arms. Quickly the younger lad grabbed his wrist, studying his unusually clean nails. Murtagh pulled his arm back only for Jamie to grabbed the bottom of his kilt, exposing his knees. Causing Murtagh to brush the red-headed male away. "What's wrong with ye lad?"

"You washed!" Jamie replied through stifled laughter, irritating the older male further.

"What a man does is his own business." Closing himself off once again by folding his arms and looking forward. He stared at Jamie from the corner of his eye, waiting for the lad to collect himself. "So... Ye've talked to Molly?"

"I have," Jamie added. This time more serious. Clearing his throat, he moved in closer, leaning in, making sure their conversation stayed between them ."I told her about everything." He admitted. Naturally, met with overwhelming concern from Murtagh.

"What on God's green Earth made you do that?"

"She figured out I was lying. I had no choice it was the right thing to do." Jamie continued.

Murtagh took a deep breath, rubbing his beard in thought. After a short moment. "You care for the lass do ye?" He asked plainly.

There was no hesitation from Jamie."Aye, I do." He raised a brow. That wasn't what the other male wanted to hear. But he wasn't done yet. "But… it is not I she fancies." Jamie had Murtagh's full attention. Jamie offered a smirk, patting him across the shoulder, stepping away from the conversation.

Instinctively Murtagh quickly turned on his heel wanting to catch Jamie before he disappeared. He wanted to know what he meant by that, but what he got was the back of his head.

Jamie never did give him Molly's message.