Authors Note: So I am posting this now. I'm not entirely happy with it, I feel like its just very wordy and dialogue heavy and I may add some more detail or a few edits here and there after I post it. I just need to post and say I'm done lol, or else I will just keep going. Either way, I hope you enjoy it!


The pillows were fluffed and the bed turned down when he arrived back to his room, the temperature is perfect. His eyes are closed and have been since he fell into bed fully dressed, he had exactly enough energy to remove his coat and the restrictive fabric around his neck. Even if he was wearing his nightclothes and under the heavy blanket, awake he would be with the thoughts and questions that have yet to cease. Perhaps if he just lays in the dark with his eyes closed long enough it will feel like sleep. His head still aches despite the whiskey and the ale with William and then the wine when he returned. Somehow it makes sense that drinking will make his head ache less, and while he's not drunk, he knows he will regret it in the morning.

Fate is a funny thing – absolutely hysterical, really. What are the odds that he is in Wilmington the one night they are here before she leaves forever? They were the last people he expected to see but alas, here they all are. If he had stayed behind at the Inn for even an hour instead of walking through town with William, he would have missed them entirely. He would be every bit as ignorant now as he was this morning.

Murtagh and Young Ian both know; John has not met Young Ian yet, but he will have to ask one day how this information affected his life – how he deals with it. Murtagh – for all their disagreements – did not seem to waver or act like this news had had any real effect on his mind. Were he alive John would ask him as well, desperate as he is for input from someone – anyone – else outside his mind.

After everything he still can't decide if he believes this to be a blessing or a curse; benevolent or malicious. Is it possible for both to be true at the same time?

For if there truly is a time that is better and safer for men like him, why wasn't he born to it? Why is he here where his very existence is a threat to the reputation of his family? To the life of any man he would attempt to see for more than just stolen moments of physical intimacy? And why on earth is he drawn to Brianna the same way?

If they had married all those years ago, would she ever have told him? Would she be leaving him the same way she is right now to avoid the conflict? Would she even tell him, or simply disappear as Roger did?

It is clear she adores him

William's observation of when for that brief moment he allowed the memory of her proposal to surface reverberates in his mind. No matter how good it makes him feel to hear such a thing he can only take it as the compliment it is. He's never known exactly why she trusted him so implicitly in those early days, and even though he saw her tenacity from the start, nothing could have prepared him for the force of nature that is Brianna Randall Fraser. And now, just when he is beginning to accept his affection may be something more, he must let her go, for he will not be selfish and ask her to stay.

A gentle almost hesitant knock on the door interrupts his thoughts. Groaning like an old man, he rolls off the bed, lighting the candle and carrying it to the door. Electricity would be perfect about now…

"Brianna…" he greets, and though its pleasant enough she looks nervous. She bows, slightly unbalanced as her hands are clasped behind her back.

"Lord John…"

"Is everything alright?"

"Yes…everything is fine, um, I couldn't fall asleep…" an anxious, quiet laugh escapes her, and now she avoids his gaze, "I'm sure you're tired of seeing me today."

He opens the door a little wider, inviting her to enter without words. She looks up at him with those hazel eyes and smiles, taking tentative steps inside. He tries to see what she is hiding behind her back, but she moves her hands to the front before he can. It appears she is in similar straits as she, too, is wearing the same clothes from this afternoon. He glances down the hallway in both directions to make sure no one is around and closes the door.

The fire still burns but is getting low, the crackling and popping of thick wood pieces as the bright flame slowly ate away what was left fills the silence. Using the candle in his hand, he lights the wicks of several more, giving them just a little more light.

"At the risk of sounding selfish, if you are leaving tomorrow, I will take every moment you can spare…" he says softly, "And I think we are well acquainted enough that you don't have to call me by my title…" he levels her with a playfully stern glare.

"You could never be guilty of being selfish, my Lord…" she responds dramatically, but for all her usually unwavering confidence she seems strangely uncertain.

"Please," he offers, motioning to the chair at the small circular table, "Would you care for some wine?"

"Just one, thank you…" Handing her a glass he pours for them both; they raise in salute but no words are spoken. Finally, she sits, her skirts settling around her as she takes a slow sip. The table is so small that if he sits with her they would be too close in proximity, so he leans back against the desk and takes a few sips of his own. There is still much he wants to ask – and even more he wants to say – but his thoughts are so chaotic he hardly knows where to begin.

"Was William at the tavern?" she asks, looking genuinely worried as to what the response will be.

"Indeed, he was…"

"He's still talking to you, then?"

"For the moment, it would appear that way."

She smiles, "Good, I'm glad to hear that. I would have felt guilty if a rift formed between you two because of me, especially since it is over something fake." Her use of the word fake suddenly reminds him that she is actually leaving, and he wonders what lie he will tell his son to explain her disappearance.

"Yes, well, for all his impetuous behavior, I forget sometimes…but he is a good man."

"That's not surprising, given who raised him." He can't help but smile and maybe his cheeks feel a little warmer, just like every other time she mentions how good of a father he is.

"Being his father…has been the joy of my life, Brianna." A joy he didn't have any right to.

"I know…Despite everything, it makes me really happy that you guys have each other." She takes another sip of her wine. He notices how fidgety she is, that since she walked in she has been nervous and near trembling.

"So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company? I thought I was the only one with cause to be restless tonight…"

"Hey, I have reasons as well, in just a few hours we're leaving for the stones. It's a long journey there and then the actual leaving and not knowing what will happen – to any of us. Before we leave, though, I just want to make sure you're ok. We told you a lot earlier."

"So you did…I am touched by your concern, Brianna, but I assure you I will be fine. One way or another, I'll make sense of it."

"I am so sorry; I didn't even think before telling you about what's coming. I forget not everyone wants to know. Once upon a time I didn't want to know either." Once more she looks genuinely grieved.

"It's alright, I will just never be able to drink another cup of tea again, or see the moon without laughing." He is trying to joke with her, but she looks even more remorseful.

"I'm so sorry,"

"You do not need to apologize." He tells her again, then sips his own wine slowly, "Can I ask you what might be considered a personal question?"

"I think we have been acquainted long enough that you don't need to ask that question…" she teases, her eyes practically daring him to ask.

"Do you believe in God? That all of this was meant to occur exactly as it has?" he leaves off the direct question of including the fact that she had been raped and Roger tortured. Her smile falters slightly, taken by surprise at the complete change in subject.

"I don't think it's that simple. I'm not sure if it was meant to happen this way, but it happened, and here we are."

"Have you ever resented or blamed your mother for…any of it?"

"I don't blame her, specifically. I really was furious when she first told me. But Daddy knew, he always knew about Jamie and the stones, and that Mama would return here one day. He found that same obituary almost immediately after she came back."

John huffs quietly, "Frank is an even better man than I thought. From the beginning he knew that, and remained married to Claire and raised you anyway?" They haven't spoken much of Frank since their time at River Run, but anytime they do it makes her smile in a way that makes him hope William will smile the same way when speaking of him.

"Well, like you with William, raising me was the joy of his life. I regret for Jamie's sake they didn't get to raise me together. All the research that went in to finding him though – arrest records and prison reports. Even if I had stayed here, Da was a fugitive for six years before he ended up at Ardsmuir and then all the years he served at Helwater. He would have missed a lot of my childhood, or we would have been on the run more often than not. With Frank, there was stability and safety I probably would not have had here."

"It is regrettable to say, but I believe you are right. It's also what allowed your mother to become a surgeon and for you to get your education in engineering and meet Roger."

"Exactly." Her eyes drift to the dying flames, that same nostalgic but near vacant look in her eyes, "You know, Roger was very young, but he was there when my mom first returned. He has vague memories of Frank and what he saw, but he didn't forget. I feel like he, more than anyone, deserved to go through. But I…I just wish he never followed me. I hate how he was harmed here because of me, but I'm happy for him that he got to experience the traveling at least and know that it is real."

"But Jamie believed as well, before anyone, with no prior knowledge or experience of it," he replies, a bit too defensively, "Why isn't he allowed to go?"

She shrugs her shoulder, eyes filling with fresh tears, "I wish I knew…" she clears her throat, taking another long sip of wine. "But to answer your question, if I had stayed in my own time, yes, I would have been safer, but I'd also be alone. If Jem was born in that time he would have grown up alone, too. I can't regret the time we spent with Mama and Da here and getting to meet Ian and Fergus and Marsali and you and William. Having been so loved and surrounded these last years I know I will feel more alone than ever – and that is saying a lot."

"Did you ever feel crazy in the moments when you started to believe it?"

"Yes, but then the more I saw not believing was also crazy…"

"Am I overreacting?"

"Um, I don't think there is any one way to react to this information. I, too, sought out the nearest bar and…Roger was there to talk me down. But that actually probably had more to do with the fact I just found out my father wasn't my real father and I thought Mama made this story up just to cover up an affair that resulted in my existence."

He can't help but smile, not a happy one but that would be a lot for anyone to take in. Knowing both of their personalities he can only imagine how the conversation itself went. It's hard to imagine Brianna just going to a bar and drinking in anger, or that she and Claire have not always been as close as they are now.

"I have so many questions, and the more I ponder the answers it only creates more questions. Anytime I let myself start to believe it I feel insane…and yet I somehow know it to be true."

"I think you're looking at this the wrong way. No matter how many questions you ask, there will likely never be an answer. And even if you had them, it wouldn't make you understand what is occurring or how it works. It's less about understanding and more about acceptance. The fact is, you know now. We will likely never have the answers we want – if we get any answers at all."

"My mind is too logical to accept that."

She looks directly at him, eyes full of empathy. He holds her gaze patiently; he can almost see the gears turning in her mind, trying to decide if or how she should reply. It takes her a moment before she takes a slow, deep breath.

"So, in the future, there is a man named Albert Einstein and he kind of is one of the smartest most influential people of the early 1900s and probably the century. He basically redefines space and time as we know it. He theorizes or believes that everything is energy, the matter around us is energy and that energy is light. He says we are all light beings and one with the universe." He knows she is speaking slowly and in simple terms, but he doesn't understand a word of what she just said.

His eyes narrow, "I thought you were an engineer?"

"I am. One of my professors quoted Einstein a few times, but his favorite was, 'Scientists investigate that which already is, engineers create that which has never been'."

"Do you think he is a traveler?"

"I, uh…" at that she laughs, her eyebrows creasing as she appears to consider the question, "I could see it either way; it would explain a few things if he was. But I do know he is a genius, John and he said, 'the important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reason for existence'."

"If he redefines space and time, did he ever say anything about God?"

"Um, yes, a few things. I honestly didn't learn a lot about him for as you said I am an engineer and not a scientist. If I remember correctly, he said that he did not believe in God as presented in the bible or by the church, but given the unique and incomprehensible structure of the universe he believes there is a superior force behind it."

"But that is beyond my comprehension…"

"Einsteins theories are beyond everyone's comprehension. I'm not trying to be dismissive; I'm telling you this because he was also an incredibly intelligent and pragmatic man, but he was unlike most of the scientists in that field – in that time. He spoke often of imagination and creativity and music. So think about it, ponder your questions and imagine what the answers could be, and don't think you're overreacting or that you're going insane if you start accepting it. And if it makes you feel better, I think you're taking it incredibly well."

He smiles, "Yes, actually, it does make me feel better."

"I feel bad that I'm leaving right after you found out. I could've…I don't know. I could have been here for you, ya know?"

"Well, if you decided to stay, I would not be opposed."

"Believe me, I want to. My parents won't return to Scotland until I am safely through the stones. I promised I would make an honest attempt at starting a life there. If nothing else, I have to stay at least long enough for them to get safely home. My mother has seen enough of war…"

"Haven't we all?" He knows now she is referring to the world war her mother and Frank served in. "The battles of Culloden and Prestonpans were an egregious loss of life…all in the name of one vain and delusional prince. I can't imagine Mr. Fitzgibbons giving his life for anything less, but…is this war worth it?"

"I may be biased, but yes, I think it is."

Knowing that William is fighting on the losing side shatters his heart. He can't just switch sides and have his son understand, nor does he want to return home and wait out the years of death and suffering. And 'home' will have an entirely different meaning; he can't help but wonder if being a constant disappointment and threat to his family is simply his lot in this life.

"Oh, and I also wanted to return this, you left it on the table in our room." His jaw clenches reflexively as he glares at the sapphire in her hand.

"Yes, that was deliberate. It's for you, Brianna. It has lost all meaning to me. Let some good come of it at least…"

"Oh. Okay, thank you."

"Is that what you were hiding behind your back upon your arrival?"

"I didn't think you noticed…"

"You were quite obvious…"

"Well, actually, I was hiding these…" from where he does not know, but she pulls out what looks like an old scroll and starts unfurling it, "Um, Mama asked me once to draw portraits of us before we were supposed to leave with Roger. I drew some new ones since Jemmy is older now; I don't know if you want them but–"

Setting his glass of wine on the desk, he takes them from her hand as he sits beside her, not wanting to appear too eager to get his hands on them. The paper is wrinkled in a few places from how she hid it, but the drawings themselves remain untouched. The first one is of her, her curls draped to one side and secured by a ribbon. It's almost an exact replica of the image in his mind.

"Is this one you had already drawn or…is it for me, specifically?"

"You mentioned once that you liked my hair like that, with the ribbon."

"I do believe I said you never looked lovelier than you did that morning. I did not mention the ribbon or your hair specifically…"

"Hey, it's ok. I think you like the ribbon just because you use them to tie your hair all the time…" her eyes are bright and mischievous, playful with him in a way that most people aren't. Even though he and William had their moments while he was growing up, so much of their relationship has been spent preparing him for the responsibility of his title. He wonders if the way she looks at him now mirrors the way he was looking at her when William made his comment about his eyes being jovial.

"Yes, that is precisely it…" He says, setting the portrait down carefully. The next ones are of Jemmy, both as an infant and the way he looks now. Then the two of them together, happy and smiling side by side. It amazes him that a thick black chunk of charcoal, in the right hands, is capable of creating such fine detail, "Thank you, Brianna. These are…truly lovely." He freezes as he sees the last one, looking at his own face as if in a mirror. It's an incredible likeness, they are smaller in scale as she drew two on the same page, one with him wearing a tricorn hat looking serious, and one without it, smiling and seemingly more relaxed. "I appreciate this one, but I know my own face well enough…"

Her eyes widen and she blushes an even deeper shade of red. It is quickly removed from his hands and she rolls it back up.

"I drew that one for myself mainly, and Jemmy when he's older…"

"You flatter me, but I am sure Jeremiah will have no need of it. He has a father…"

"Yea, well, assuming we do find Roger, he'll be good to Jemmy but, I won't go back to him, no matter how desperate…"

"I wanted to ask earlier, but will you tell me what happened between you? I got the distinct impression you were holding something back in the presence of your parents and your son."

"And you call me perceptive…" she teases. When he doesn't quip back or respond, she looks at him and shakes her head, "I really don't want to talk about him right now, John. There isn't much to tell."

"Well perhaps I just need to hear it. You said in the end, you wanted different things…" he reminds her, hoping if he gives her a place to start, she'll finish it, "Was it because of the events at Alamance?"

Locking her gaze intensely with his, she gives a curt nod, "That was part of it." He feels slightly guilty because he has never pressed her when she didn't want to talk about something. Whatever happened, she has not told her parents the whole truth of it and for some reason he cannot let it go. "Roger and I, even from the beginning we were always on shaky ground…"

"I noticed…" her gaze drifts back to him with a questioning glance, "There were times when you spoke of Roger, before he returned while you and I were still getting acquainted, you would get a particular look in your eyes. There was concern, love, and nostalgia, but there was something belying, almost dubious. I don't claim to know or understand all the facets of love – and I'm not saying you did not love him – but at the very least love is certain…and in those moments you, my dear Brianna, were not."

"You're not wrong. It didn't seem to take much to make him disappointed or mad at me for something and that only got worse by the end." She swallows hard, closing her eyes and her eyelids tremble. He hates to think it, but if she won't say it, he has to ask.

"Please tell me he did not harm you…"

"What? No, of course not!" her eyes plead with him one last time, before releasing a tired sigh, "I told you earlier that Roger never intended to stay here, and that was before everything went wrong. On our wedding day…we had been married for less than an hour and already he was talking about going back. So, after Roger regained the ability to talk, he decided it was time to go. I said goodbye to you that day and Young Ian made the two week journey with us to the stones. We tied a rope around us, as if that would stop us getting separated…" she cuts herself off, shaking her head with a sardonically bitter laugh.

"And you separated anyway, because you wanted to stay while he did not..." he finishes for her. But her gaze remains far off, the sound of her nails drumming slowly against the crystal of the glass is all the response he gets. He decides not to press any further, it is clearly something she does not want to speak of. But given all she has told him already, he is not certain what it could possibly be that she would not tell him, and that only worries him more.

If they are to be believed, they all describe traveling through the stones as an often violent and disorienting experience. To think of Jeremiah at so young an age going through that while tied to his parents and not knowing what was about to happen is a truly terrifying thought. Jemmy seems perfectly fine in spite of it, but he fears what will happen if they go through again – this time traveling the span of 200 years.

"We were finished, John, before we even left the Ridge it was over. When I was at River Run, after Bonnet, um, before you…I had a lot of anger and grief and pain – and the nightmares. I had way too much time on my hands, so I would draw portraits of people in the house, and all kinds of other things I saw there just to keep my mind occupied. More than once I would look down…and it was his face. Lizzy thought I was possessed…" it makes her chuckle, but he can see the darkness in her eyes even in the candlelight.

"I know you like her, but Miss Wemyss would not have lasted five minutes in…well, any of my households." He didn't intend for it to be a joking comment but she laughs anyway.

"Aww, don't be so mean."

"It is not mean. She was in the room less than thirty seconds and revealed everything in front of a total stranger."

And he has way too many dangerous secrets…

She nods in agreement with a fond smile, "Yea, I had to talk to her about discretion more than once, but she was there when..." the darkness returns to her eyes and he near holds his breath waiting for her to continue, "I never told you what I said to Bonnet that day, but before I left, he gave me a small jewel to take care of the baby. I felt so filthy. I only took it because I knew we might need it to get back through the stones…"

"You are not filthy, and it has never mattered to me what you said to him. I was in complete and utter awe of you that day,"

"Well, it mattered to Roger, apparently. One day, while I was outside with Jemmy, Roger was looking for something but instead he found those drawings…"

"You kept them?" she shifts in her seat, reaching for the wine. Apparently 'just one' means that she doesn't intend to let the glass become empty before refilling it, "Do you have them still?"

"No, I burned them when I realized he had seen them. But before he had a chance to say anything about it, a few days later he found the jewel from Bonnet and recognized it instantly."

"Recognized just a small jewel?"

"It was before everything went wrong, before we even found each other in Wilmington. Roger had asked Bonnet for it in lieu of payment, knowing we'd need it to get back. Bonnet stuck it in his mouth, and so yes, Roger knew exactly where it came from. When he showed it to me, there was so much disgust in his eyes. There was nothing I could say, and then he handed it back to me and it made me feel so filthy all over again…" she releases a quivering breath and again she amazes him as she is not crying, but like her mother, her voice just sounds exhausted, "I know I made some stupid decisions back then, but he wouldn't forgive me. In his mind, in his eyes, the way he looked at me after that changed. He couldn't touch me, we barely looked at each other. Then I woke up one morning to an empty bed and a letter, Roger was returning home…and if I along with my bastard child wanted to follow him, he'd allow it. But that was just to hurt me, we knew Jemmy was his by then."

John shakes his head, just when he thought his opinion of the man couldn't fall any lower.

"And that is the man you are trying to get back to?"

"No, as Jemmy's father I feel like he should know that we are there. But as I said, we will never be together again, even if he has forgiven me."

"If only there was something that needed forgiveness…" a small but grateful smile forms, "How do you know Roger isn't dead, or lost…somewhere in time?" But what he is really asking is how will he know? How can he find out that they made it safely?

"I don't know. I kind of made peace with the idea that I never would. It made it…easier; not knowing for sure I can picture him happy and healthy and safe."

"You have too much compassion for him." He says without fully meaning to. But she isn't upset when their eyes lock, not angry.

"He was good once, John. Not perfect, but everything here…changed him. Changed us both."

"You both survived unimaginably cruel circumstances. There is no way to live through events like that and come out unscathed." John moves closer to her, but now it's him who can't quite meet her gaze, "I should never have taken you to see Bonnet. If we had not been there to interfere, he would have perished in his original cell when they freed Murtagh."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"There is no need to apologize. I am just relieved there wasn't much to tell," this gets a surprised and honest laugh from Brianna, and he basks in the sound.

"I think Roger was jealous of you or something."

"Jealous of me? Whatever for?"

"There were just times your name would come for one reason or another, or the few times you mailed your gifts. He never said anything, but Roger would just get this look. I think it's because you were there with me when he wanted to be. You know me as intimately as he did, faster and maybe even more so…" She is holding something back again, but this time he does not push. If this is the last night they will be able to talk so freely, there is something else he would like an answer to.

"Is it true…Jamie told me once that the name Ian is the Scottish version of John," a smirk pulls at the corner of her mouth, practically giving him his answer, "I thought, I just assumed you named him after your cousin who traded himself for Roger."

"That is true, and it's what I let Roger believe, too. But yes, I knew that would be one of his names before I settled on the real one."

It takes his breath away to hear her say it so bluntly and all he can do is stare at her. It makes him feel more than he can say, more than he should say. It was technically not a lie she told her husband, and yet she kept this knowledge hidden away for herself. Perhaps she didn't know how to tell him in a way that was within the bounds of propriety; God knows he has no idea how he is supposed to respond.

"I am…profoundly honored…"

Her eyes are watery but she is still smiling, "As much as I adore you, Lord John, I'm glad we didn't get married back then. There was so much…and I know we kind of laugh about it now but I am still so ashamed of how selfish I was and blackmailing you."

There is that word again…adore.

"I have forgiven you every time you apologize…" he replies, silently imploring her that she stop apologizing. She is breathless, though not from physical exertion and the apprehension in her body is palpable. There is more she wants to say and the conflict in her eyes makes him wait, giving her all the time she needs to find the words to convey her thoughts. Lord knows he is desperate to hear them.

"It's not just that…" she stops for the length of a breath, "When I think back to it, you could have delivered Da's letter and left or you could have just sent it in the mail. We never would have met. After I threatened you, no one would have blamed you if you walked away. But you agreed to the engagement, and even though you forgive me and say you understand, you could have chosen to never see me again. You were the one person who absolutely did not need to be there, but you were."

"And yet we did meet, Brianna, I would not change that even now. The longer you were at River Run, the more I wanted to be there…"

"Oh come on, you probably saw me as some weak helpless girl who was just looking for a man to rescue her." Her reaction takes him by surprise. Instead of teasing she actually looks and sounds aggravated if not flat out angry.

"I would appreciate it if you did not presume to think you know how I see you. There are things I'll always remember when I think of you, some happier than others. Mostly, I will remember the way you trusted me with a deeply personal and devastating experience, the way you were prepared to trust me with your life and that of your child."

"Well, you're such a good father to William, I just knew–"

"You did not know I was a father yet," he cuts her off gently, holding her gaze until she rolls her eyes and smiles, "I used to think you chose me simply because you had something you could use to make me agree. Then I thought, it wasn't actually me, that if it had been any other man you would have trusted them the same way."

"It was absolutely just you. In case you have forgotten there were other men at that table… It was your eyes, though. The first night at dinner and that morning, the way you looked at me listening while I told you everything and your eyes just…put me completely at ease. There was so much empathy and caring it was kind of overwhelming..." Perhaps that is why that image of her is so ingrained in his mind. He remembers asking her, 'what is it?'; how her eyes searched his, uncertain and guarded until the moment she decided to share the full truth of her circumstances. He could hardly breathe while she spoke, both feeling rage at the vile creature that harmed her, and grief as he watched her battle the shame while struggling to explain either man could be the father, "What else do you think of?"

"Its one of the less happy ones but until the day I die I will remember grabbing your arm and running; the sheer panic that nearly stopped my heart at hearing we had barely a moment before the jail was set to explode. And somehow you still had the presence of mind to stop and make sure that guard wasn't left to die..."

She scoffs, a little more playfully, "I was afraid you'd say that. I remember thinking I was slowing us down and you should just get yourself to safety. We had just found a spot to hide then that sound and the smoke…and your whole body was shielding me,"

"Yes, because I would have left you behind to save myself but then I remembered I'd have to explain to Jamie that in one moment he lost pregnant daughter and nearly lost his godfather and his adopted son."

"And his best friend…" she says, looking at him pointedly, "Talk about bad timing…"

Then they both laugh. They have never spoken of it until today, he certainly never thought they'd ever laugh about it. Her laughter dies down to giggles, and she hides her smile behind her hand.

"It feels good to laugh with you like this…"

"It does indeed… Honestly Brianna, you have captivated me from the beginning and…" He takes hold of her hands, making sure she is looking at him, "For all the credit you give me for being there for you in those days, please do not ever forget that you are the one who lived through them. Whether I was there or not you woke up every day from your nightmares, you were not bitter or hateful towards anyone, you carried a child along with the weight of all your fear, anger, grief, and pain and you survived it all. I do not think of you, nor have I ever thought of you as being weak or that you needed to be rescued, least of all by me. In spite of your fear, you stood up to the man who violated you more than once. You are here and he is not and he will never harm another soul because of what you did. You are clever and resourceful and have proven yourself more than capable of taking care of yourself and your son. Being able to witness you continuing to grow and thrive through these years has been a privilege. And that is all I will ever see when I think of you."

"You can't say things like that to me," she giggles once more, until she actually becomes quiet. Her gaze is on the door to this room, once more he can see her questioning if she should say out loud what is on her mind, "I used to get confused with you…by you – emotionally, I mean. I did love Roger and I wanted him back and safe, but you… It made me feel so guilty because being around you just made everything better; in those moments I forgot about Roger. And I know that a lot of this comes simply out of gratitude for the ways you were there for me and that in the end we would never have been together, but…"

Now there are tears in her eyes, a mixture he can't make sense of and her hands once more settle on her abdomen as if she were pregnant all over again, "But it was you beside me the first time I felt Jemmy move, and when you placed your hand on my stomach it felt like the most natural thing. I'm pretty sure he knew the sound of your voice before anyone else's." He swallows hard the lump forming in his throat, willing the burning in his eyes to stop lest he start crying with her. "I never felt more alone or scared or broken and I'll always remember how safe you made me feel – and trust me I did not think that was possible. I knew my son would be safe with you as well. I was almost sad…" her voice trails off, and she wipes her cheeks trying to regain her composure.

"Say it, Brianna…" she looks back at him, narrowing her eyes.

"Why?"

"Because you're stronger than I am…"

"I was almost sad…when Roger chose to say."

"As was I…"

"Those were the darkest days of my life, John. I will never, ever forget you and I don't want Jemmy to either. We wouldn't be here without you…"

"I swore that I would not cry today, Brianna. Are you trying to make me break an oath?"

"You are too honorable, not even I could make you break an oath…"

"Are you certain?"

"Perhaps not…?"

They sit there in silence, the minutes sliding by. He isn't sure how many pass. It's his turn to question whether he should say the words on his mind and heart. He has lacked discretion with this family too many times. The pleading near expectant look in her eyes suggests she is waiting for him, and he just wants to know and understand her thoughts. She picks up the glass of wine and takes a sip. He could sense something hanging between them, something different. But he decides he cannot allow her to speak so openly and not match her bravery.

"I still get confused by you, Brianna. The only woman I ever loved was Isobel. I can appreciate the beauty of a woman without wanting anything more. You are the first woman I found myself…drawn to. It doesn't make me question who I am per se, it makes me question my sanity. I make it a point to not let myself dwell on you too much; to keep it under control. Bree, I am twenty years your senior, you are the daughter of a man I have had feelings for as long as you've been alive, and I am raising your brother. Even just one of those facts should…all of them together has helped to make me ignore my feelings, but it has not stopped them. Had I been brave enough to admit this to you or Jamie, what was I meant to say? He would jump to the conclusion I only wanted to use you as an extension of him, and he would be right to assume it. I myself thought that in the beginning as well, its why I was relieved when we didn't need to marry."

"Yea, I guess our circumstances are a little complicated."

"A little?" she is giving him that look again, the expectant and pleading look that suggests he is supposed to be doing something. It unnerves him because he is not certain what she wants or is expecting, and if that is the same as what's in his mind. So, abruptly, he stands and moves several steps away from her, "I thank you for the portraits, it was incredibly thoughtful of you."

"Oh, uh, you're welcome." Confusion is all over her face and he potentially hurt her feelings as well. He starts walking to the door indicating she follow him, but she does not move.

"Was there something else you needed?" his voice almost sounds sharp which he did not intend, "Are you sure everything is alright? You've been nervous since arriving here."

"Everything is fine, I'm just terrible at goodbyes." She is breathless again, looking everywhere but at him, "We're leaving first thing and I have one, um…could you…" she stops and starts several times, stumbling over her words, "I would just never forgive myself if I didn't at least ask if we could um…" finally she meets his gaze, and apparently does not see what she is hoping for, she rolls her eyes, "or at the very least, can you kiss me?"

Oh…ohhh...

"Are you asking me to make love to you?"

"I was trying to..."

"It has been a very strange day, Brianna. I feel like I am dreaming…"

"You're not dreaming."

He clasps one hand of hers in his two, holding her gaze as he places a kiss.

"That's not what I–"

It is rude to interrupt her, but he won't deny her – or himself – this moment. She does not appear to be offended. Her body physically relaxes in his arms as she wraps her arms around him, one hand moves around his back, holding him, the other reaches up to grip the back of his head. His hand moves to her hair, the soft curls wrap and tangle around his fingers as he pulls her head closer, deeper into the kiss.

He respects her experiences and allows her to dictate the pace, hoping she'll realize how much he needs her right now without hurting or scaring her. He keeps the kiss gentle, but it's not chaste. He likes the slow progression of it and almost as if reading his mind, she grips his neck a little tighter, trying to pull him a little closer. He obeys her whim and lightly dips his tongue into the warm cavern of her mouth.

A kiss is a kiss. Once he thought kissing a woman would not be much different than a man. He can't help but notice – and appreciate – that when he touches her cheek it is smooth and soft instead of rough with stubble. The color of her lips, the shape of her mouth, the delicate curve of her jaw. Perhaps it is the emotions attached, but kissing Brianna is unlike anything he has felt and sends tremors throughout his body. Things he hadn't felt in years, things he may never feel again once she's gone. Her grip on him is firm, not submissive – but yielding to him just the same.

For all their talk of time travel, in this moment time ceases to exist. Sound is limited to sighs and swallowed moans. Neither one wants to let go; it feels too good to end. But stop he does, and her eyes open.

The hand held against her lower back moves higher, holding her body close to him. His other hand moves up to stroke her cheek, the pads of his fingers running over her skin gently, turning her face up to his. Thanks to the portraits he will never forget her face, but here she is in vivid color; he can marvel in the feel of the texture of her skin, the warmth and depth of its color, committing its contours and imperfections to memory. He never wants to forget.

"Is that what you meant?" he asks, she is breathless as she nods.

"Yes, thank you…"

He kisses the back of her hand once more.

"Forgive me…I can't," her cheeks flush red and she looks near devastated; he can barely catch his own breath and continues quickly, "I have always been in awe of your trust in me, Brianna. I do not take it lightly; I never have. Even if this is something you want, if I go any further it will be a violation of that trust and I can't – I won't do it, not tonight."

"Its ok, you can say you don't want me, I'll understand. Like I said I just really would not have forgiven myself if I didn't at least ask…"

"Please, do not think it is that I don't want you. I would give you what you ask for, but I fear I would be ruined forever if we made love only once and then I had to let you go…"

"Yea, well, you totally ruined the world of men for me." He can feel the confusion on his face and she smiles, "No one in my time, or any time, could ever measure up to you."

"I daresay I feel the same about you…"

She moves towards the door and he follows her. She doesn't get far before she reaches up, wrapping her arms firm around him and hugging with an impressive amount of strength. He returns in kind, once again letting her decide when she is ready to let go. As she settles back on her feet, he presses one last kiss to her forehead.

"I wish I had been braver sooner. Saying goodbye to you is never easy. I'm actually really going to miss you."

"And I you…" he lets go of her, instantly missing the feel of her against him and cursing himself with every step she takes. She pauses as she reaches the door, but doesn't turn around to see him. Before she can grab the doorknob, his hand encircles her wrist. "Wait."


He rolls over, trying to ignore the insipid awareness of daylight that comes after a night of drinking and not sleeping well. As predicted his head is pounding; he doesn't want the day to start just yet. His hand lands on a cold pillow and he rises fully alert, as though he'd heard a call to arms.

All traces of her are gone and he thinks he dreamed it, but a letter was pushed under his door. He swallows thickly seeing the green silk ribbon wrapped around it, and an unmistakable lock of red hair.

"Lord John,

I wasn't sure I was going to leave this letter, but like I said I am terrible at goodbyes. When I awoke just before dawn, I barely had enough time to get back to our room and act as though I'd slept there. I had even less time to write this. Thank you for the gift you gave me last night – for being the truly gentle man you are. I won't lie, I am a tad disappointed but that kiss and sleeping in your arms for hours is a memory I'll carry to the future and cherish always.

I can't remember if it was part of a history lesson or something I read in a romance novel, but I'm sure you noticed the green ribbon that secures a strand of my hair to this letter. It's supposed to be a symbol of fidelity, right? I guess it's kind of my promise that I'll be devoted to you for quite some time. You don't have to keep it if it's creepy or weird – or against the blasted rules of propriety – but I wanted to leave you with more than just the portraits. We shared a lot last night – perhaps more than we should have. Would you call me crazy if I said there is still more I wanted to say? Is it the same for you?

I thought I knew what I was gaining when I came here to find my parents, and absolutely nothing turned out the way I expected. But if I take away nothing else, I will always count myself and William blessed to have you in our lives. You were a genuine and welcome surprise that there was man so progressive in such an oppressive time. Even though I'm leaving you a lock of my hair I would not expect the same from you. I genuinely hope that you find all the love and happiness you deserve and then some.

The last time we said goodbye on the Ridge, I knew I was going somewhere I'd never come back from, and we'd never meet again. But now, and after last night, I can't imagine that this is goodbye forever. But if circumstances or fate doesn't allow it, please know I meant every word I said last night. I will never forget you and neither will my son. It feels like I am leaving a piece of my heart here, though, perhaps that is what is making this so much harder.

I will miss you so much. But as a wise man once said, "Life is long, perhaps someday…"

All my love always and in all ways,

Brianna Randall Fraser

P.S. Please don't be mad, but I left the sapphire here. I know you don't want it, but I have an idea of how I can use it and I don't want the stone fairies to steal it. Young Ian is with us, he'll be staying behind and you'll find him in the dining area. Don't forget he knows where we are going, if you ride fast you may catch up.

Rolling the letter back up, he ties the ribbon and her hair around it. Luckily, he had not packed much as he didn't intend to stay in Wilmington too long. Though it feels strange to do it, he leaves on the same clothes from yesterday, grabbing his coat and securing the cravat in place.

They had never officially met, but Jamie talked of his nephew often enough that John feels as though he knows him. He is easy enough to spot, being the only patron wearing Native American attire.

"Ian?"

An impressive young man turns around, his fierce expression softens as he smiles, "You must be Lord John Grey,"

"Indeed I am, it's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"The pleasure is mine. Jamie talks of you often enough and Brianna, too. I was with them to help find a jewel. Bree asked I stay behind, just in case, ya know…" he gives a knowing look but does not imply anything more.

"Just in case I wish to chase her?"

Ian nods, "We can leave now, or are you hungry?"

"No, I'd rather not delay. I've waited too long already."


Authors Notes: Feel free to comment with any emotional outbursts. I promise to go back and edit any mistakes and add some more details but again, I wanted to post this at least. There is a bit more, it'll be more of an epilogue that will set the scene but it'll be a separate story. Again I genuinely hope that you enjoyed it and I hope it was worth the wait.