Hey Guys! This is my first foray into Outlander Fanfic. Let me know what you think?
Summary: Jamie’s point of view after he leaves Claire at Craigh na Dun after the Witch Trial in “The Devil’s Mark”, past the end of the episode.
Jamie walked down the hill with heavy steps, determined not to look back. He knew that if he did he’d lose his resolve. He’d run back up that damned hill and fall to his knees, begging her to stay. Or worse yet, he’d get there just as she passed through the stones. To rip his still-beating heart from his chest was one thing, but to watch her go… to see his heart and the other half of his soul disappear from him forever… no.
He carried on walking back towards the camp feeling himself splinter more and more the further he got from her.
He found himself back at their campsite (his campsite. Not theirs. Not anymore.) with no memory of how he got there. He could scarcely see the trees or the ground, so lost in his grief. He mechanically gathered wood, to give himself something to do. He didn’t bother finding food – his wame churned and he felt sick with loss.
The sounds of the woods echoed around him. Birds chirped. Wind rustled through leaves. And he was alone.
Jamie finally allowed himself to succumb to his grief. He sank to the ground, like a puppet whose strings had been cut, and he wept. He wept for all the could-have-beens, the nights they’d never have, croodled and warm in their bed; the mornings they’d never share, speaking and laughing over breakfast; the children they’d never have. He mourned for her laugh, which he’d never hear again. He mourned for her smile. He mourned for the feel of her breasts pressed against his chest when he embraced her. He mourned being able to talk freely and comfortably to someone he loved.
He’d never remarry. He’d never stop loving her and he’d never love another. He knew that much.
The sun was setting, the beautiful reds and oranges and pinks spackling the ground through the trees. The beauty of it seemed to mock him. He’d promised her that he’d stay at the camp only until nightfall, but he couldn’t stomach the thought of leaving. Not yet.
Would he know, the moment she went through the stones? To have his heart ripped from him with such finality – would he feel it? Would he hear the sound of his soul snapping in two, never to be whole again? Or was she already gone, lost to a future he could never reach?
Was she already back in the arms of that bastard Randall? Damn him to Hell. Damn him and his forefather and all Randalls besides.
Night was upon him now. He’d hardly moved in hours. He mustered himself enough to start a fire and hunkered down beside it. He was reminded of the night before – he’d known it would be their last night together, and he’d brought her to pleasure and had basked in her sounds, the feel on her around his fingers, the rapturous look on her bonny face. She’d wanted him to make love to her properly, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t risk getting her with child just before sending her back to him. And he didn’t think he’d have the strength to make love to her only to send her away in the morning. Besides, he’d wanted the pleasure of watching her, of listening, of feeling her without being distracted by his own physical pleasure. He had needed to breathe her in, to soak up as much of her as he could, with all of his senses. The memories of her needed to last him the rest of his days.
And now he lay in the same spot, alone.
For the first time since he was a wee lad, he cried himself to sleep.
His dreams were disjointed and disturbing. He was chasing her, but no matter how fast he ran, she remained just out of his reach.
He heard Randall calling out to her, calling her darling. In his dream, he sounded just like the Captain.
Jamie called out to her, too. He called and he ran and she couldn’t hear him. He couldn’t reach her. The sounds of the forest and Randall’s calls whipped past his ears until he was jolted by her voice “On your feet, Soldier.”
Above him, illuminated by the crackling fire, was the face of his heart.
He was still dreaming, surely. There was no way she –
She knelt slowly before him and rested her hand on his knee. It was like fire and life and the pieces of his soul fitting seamlessly back together. She was here. She was real.
She slid her hand up his thigh and said the words that mended him. “Take me home to Lallybroch.”
He raised himself on his elbows, staring up at her in hope and love and disbelief.
He smiled weakly and looked down, feeling his lips twist as fresh tears rolled down his cheeks. She came closer and he looked back up, reaching for her. He pulled her into him, and she sunk against his chest, warm and real and there. Their hands found each other’s faces as he pulled her into a kiss.
They were both crying now, tears falling between lips as they kissed, fingers running through hair and over cheeks and ears, rememorizing each other. Jamie pulled her impossibly closer before rolling her under him, resting his weight on her, surrounding her, keeping her with him. He pulled away from the kiss to rest his forehead against hers. “Sassenach…” His voice was raspy and wrecked.
She ran her fingers through his hair, over his neck and down his back, soothing him, mending him with her healing hands. He cleared his throat slightly, but his voice remained rough. “Why?” It was all he could manage.
“Because I can’t bloody live without you, can I?” She was clearly trying to inject some humour into her tone, but it came out shaky, the tears clear in her voice. He kissed her forehead, her nose, and down her beautiful long neck before working his way back up to her lips.
She overwhelmed his senses. He could feel every inch of her body pressed against his. She was all he could see, her breath was all he could hear. He was consumed by the taste of her sweet mouth against his.
She was here. She was his. Now and forever. The joy of it, the joy of her washed over him, warming him, filling him up. I love you, he thought. But he wouldn’t say it yet. It wasn’t the time. He’d tell her when they got to Lallybroch. For now, he’d let his body speak for him.
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