You Are My Home Now

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RENT | 1X05

Try not to hit any more trees. —Dinna worry. Trees are safe, Sassenach. 

Echoes through time.

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- Masterlist.

Part 17.

 Claire hadn’t yet had the chance to tell Jamie her news. With one thing or another, she simply had not found the right time. They had all been busy helping build makeshift homes in pieces of Fraser land Brian had generously offered. With winter on their doorstep, there was not much that could be done but get everyone as comfortable and settled. Having no warning of their arrival, there had not been time to gather enough food and supplies. Everything, however, it had been agreed, would be shared as best as possible.

What time Claire and Jamie did have together was spent mostly sleeping. As it was, they were more like two ships on a foggy sea, as one tended to what sickness and injuries arose, the other helped with building the shelters. It was a tentative settling-in period, a coming together of new rhythms and personalities.

On one rare night they found themselves in bed together, wrapped in each others arms, bodies leaden with exhaustion - too tired to move, minds to awake to sleep - they lay listening to the hailstorm clattering against the roof of their sturdy, makeshift shelter just off to the side of the main house.

Soon, they’d be permanently settled. They had found a place to call home and build a life. It had been more than Claire could’ve ever have asked for, and yet she couldn’t help but worry. They had known each but a few months, months fraught with danger and adventure, and burning passion - each touch and word still a discovery. What would happen when they had become thoroughly accustomed to each other? Living day by day in a routine of mundane tasks. She felt that flutter in her belly once more - was it nerves or the life she carried, she could not tell.

“Jamie?” she whispered into the darkness. She knew he was still awake - his finger tracing whorls over her back.

“Hmmm…”

“Will you…” she began, “Will you grow tired of me, do you think?” she breathed. “Once we’re settled?”

“I was just wondering the same thing about you, Sassenach.”

“Were you?”

“Aye. Once we’ve become completely accustomed to each other. I canna help but wonder if… This life will be enough for ye.” She heard the silent words he could not bring himself to say. Will I be enough?

Claire propped herself up on her elbow to better get a look at his face, eyes adjusting to the darkness, before she spoke again. “Jamie,” she said, running a finger down his cheek. “Love, you’re…. Everything to me. Always.”

He leaned up and kissed her, feeling her lips trembling against his.

“And I willna tire of ye either, my Sassenach. That I can promise ye,” he said into her neck as he brought her in for a hug.

“How do you know?” she asked quietly, settling down once more, her nose inches from his on the pillow. His eyes twinkled, that cheeky smile she loved so much touching the edge of his lips.

“Because I wanted ye from the first moment I saw ye. But I loved ye when ye patched me up that first time in the woods.” He rolled on top of her then, cupping her neck in his palm, his thumb tracing her jawline. “But now I wake up everyday and I find that I love ye more than I did the day before,” he said, kissing her slow and deep. “That is how I know. And know it of ye as well.”

She took his face in her hands, a tear rolling down the side of her face and into her hair. “I love you,” she whispered, her body arching towards his, aching for any and all contact to be had.

His body responded in kind, and in the dead of night, all exhaustion was forgotten, as they found a renewed vigor in each other’s naked embrace.

***

The next day, Claire found herself knee deep in mucky snow, helping Elin salvage what vegetables they could from the winter frost. The men had all gone to help raise the roof of a temporary longhouse the new settlers would be using for the winter. Every able hand that wasn’t helping gather food and supplies, was needed.

They worked in an amiable silence for a while, but Claire could feel Elin’s eyes flick towards her, as they so often did since she had arrived. There wasn’t any malice in it, just… a wariness. Claire wracked her brain for something to say, something to break the growing charged silence.

She cleared her throat, the cold making it croaky. “Jamie told me he has a sister.”

“Aye,” Elin replied, digging deep to uproot a cabbage. “Jenny. She’s wed now and lives with her husband, Ian, on his family’s farm. We sent word of Jamie’s return, but she’s with child - her second - and it would not be safe for her to travel now.”

“Perhaps when things are more settling here, we could visit. I know Jamie misses her terribly and I would love to meet her as well,” Claire offered.

“And being a healer, you could perhaps share your expertise?” Elin asked, looking over at Claire who was having a tug of war with a carrot.

“Of course!” Claire exclaimed. “I’d love to help in any way I can.”

Their conversation continued along casual lines, but Claire could clearly feel the unspoken words beneath.

“Jamie tells me you were a shield maiden before settling down with Brian here?”

“Aye, but it was naught compared to being a wife and mother.”

I had the nurturing and the loving of him as a boy. What will you do with the man I help make?

“He tells me you’re a rare fine healer. Unlike any he’s ever seen.”

“I mended a gash across his stomach when first we met.”

Yes, I’m capable, and gentle, and will care for him.

“Ye say ye married soon after meeting.”

Did you wed my son for his lands and money?

“I would not exactly say soon - we had traveled for many a month and got to know each other rather well in a very unorthodox way - but yes, it may seem quick. Beyond knowing he was nephew to Kalman and Dufgall though, he was but a young man I’d met and fell in love with, in a land that wasn’t our own, but one we would have made our home if we’d had to.”

I didn’t care if he was laird of the place; I can only have loved and married him for himself.

And so it went, taking each other’s measure throughout the day. Exchanging bits of information and opinions. Filling in blanks that only they could, about his history and the lost time.

As evening began to set in, baskets full of vegetables for the stores, The two women made their way over muddy paths, the brisk wind whipping their hair around.

“When will you tell him?” Elin asked suddenly, going four steps before realizing Claire had stopped dead at her question. She turned to see blank shock on her face. “That you are with child?” she said, tilting her head to one side, assessing.

“How did you–?” Claire blurted, shaking her head.

“You do not live as long as I have and not be able to tell,” Elin replied, studying the look on Claire’s face, for a moment unsure she’d read her right. “You knew, surely?”

“Yes, yes I did,” Claire replied, quickly trying to regain her composure.

“How long have you known?”

“Not long. Only since we arrived.”

Elin nodded and began walking again, slow enough for Claire to quickly catch up.

“Why haven’t ye said anything to the lad yet?” Elin asked.

“I just haven’t really found the right moment. We’ve all been so busy,” Claire said, keeping her eyes on the slippery path.

Elin smiled. “There is no such thing as the “right moment”, Claire. All you really need is him. Everything else is just details. He’ll be mad wi’ joy whether you tell him in the pig pen or on a perfectly moon lit night,” she said, giving Claire’s shoulder a comforting squeeze.

“You’re right,” Claire said, a bit sheepishly, smiling from ear to ear. “Him being awake long enough for me to tell him is most essential, I suppose,” she added with a laugh, Elin quietly joining in.

Raucous laughter heralded the men’s return, Claire easily spotting her husband towering over all the others. He beamed unabashedly at the sight of her, his grin touching his eyes. A smile she knew matched her own. No matter how small or grand, Elin was right, every moment spent with him would always be the perfect moment.

- Masterlist.

Chapter 15.

 The beams of their flashlights crisscrossed as the walked into the cannery, a mere husk of what it once was. The sun had began to set when they arrived but the deeper they went into the abandoned building, the sun might as well have been nonexistent. There was a hollow silence as the light breeze from the nearby coast hummed through the building’s skeleton. No glass adorned the windows, pieces of broken off metal conveyor belt scattered the floor and graffiti lined the walls from what the local sheriff had called the teenagers of the small island’s rites of passage. Everything from who could brave the spooky building’s haunting aura, to high-school raves, the cannery had seen it all.

Their flashlights crisscrossed again as they scanned the main level. For a moment, the only sound was that of the howling wind and the distant lapping of the ocean, but the deeper they got, an agitated and furious voice began to rise. They got to the centre of the large atrium where a large spiral staircase led to yet more lower levels and peered down to see Geillis holding a knife to the throat of a terrified young woman.

“They have desecrated sacred land!” Geillis bellowed. “They have defiled something precious and ancient!”

Claire and Jamie made their way down the crumbling staircase, Geillis too irate to notice their descent or the light of their flashlights. They both noted the gun in Geillis’ belt at the same time.

Geillis finally spotted them when they’d cleared the last step, coming level with her. She drew the gun, cocking it as she did so, but continued her tirade as if she’d been speaking to them all along.

“They have stripped it of its power!” she screamed at them, waving the gun at the ground. “It’s been diluted. I can hear but the faintest hum! Nothing of the well of power that should be!” In her wrath she brought the knife’s tip down so violently into the crook of the young woman’s neck, it took her moment to register she’d even been stabbed at all.

Claire’s eyes flashed. Within a millisecond her mind had assessed the injury - minimal bleeding, the knife creating enough pressure within the wound itself to prevent her from bleeding out. Despite being in clear pain, so long as the girl didn’t move and Geillis didn’t pull out the blade, Claire could save her.

From the corner of his eye, Jamie saw Claire point the muzzle of her gun at the ceiling, her hands splaying in surrender.

“I hear it too,” Claire said, trying to get Geillis’ attention. “Like the buzzing of a swarm of bees, only here… It’s muffled. Diminished, somehow.”

Geillis paused. Her ranting momentarily forgotten as she looked at Claire properly for the first time. “You… hear it too?” she asked.

“Yes,” Claire replied, taking a step forward. One eye on Geillis, the other on the knife in the girl’s neck. “I heard it on Tryon’s Ridge too.”

“Then ye ken!” Geillis perked up. “Ye ken what power we possess. The power they have desecrated!”

Jamie took the opportunity to slowly begin circling round Geillis while Claire had her distracted.

Feed the delusion, Claire’s diagnostic mind screamed, even though she knew now it was more than just delusion. Give Jamie time!

“I do,” Claire said, stepping forward and to the opposite side of where Jamie slowly crept. “A power both frightening… and fascinating. The power of possibility.”

A manic softness stole into Geillis’ gaze. “We can do anything. Make kings of fools. Bend history to our will. We can be Gods.”

“But that hasn’t been the case, has it?” Jamie spoke up, much to Claire’s surprise. “You haven’t managed to change a damn thing, have you?”

Without breaking eye contact with Claire, Geillis raised her gun and pointed it at Jamie. “Tell yon wee fox cub that’s far enough.”

“But he isn’t wrong, is he Gillian?” Claire retorted, gaining back Geillis’ attention by using her real name. Anger and disgust flashed across Geillis’ face at its mention.

The sound of distant fireworks echoed through the night.

“I can’t expect ye to understand. Ye canna understand unless ye’ve felt the unparalleled power that comes from crossing over,” Geillis said, tightening her grip on her pistol and taking hold of the knife’s handle in the girl’s neck. “But one day… one day I may just show you what it feels like.”

“That’s never going to happen,” Claire spat back, gripping her gun more tightly and taking aim at Geillis once more.

A devilish sneer crossed Geillis’ face, head tilting to one side. “Never say never, Claire,” she said. And before either Claire or Jamie could react, Geillis yanked the knife from the girl’s neck, sending a spray of blood and screams of agony into the air.

Claire’s own scream ripped through Jamie’s insides, but as he took a step forward to grab Geillis, a bang went off and a sharp, searing pain went through his left thigh. A few more pops rang in his ears as he blinked furiously to try and clear his vision. He lost balance and landed heavily on his right knee, his left hand pressing down on the gushing wound, but managed to quickly regain his faculties long enough to see Claire kneeling down and applying pressure to the panicking girl’s injury, as she let off a couple more shots towards one of the doors leading out of the building. He got up and made to run after Geillis who was nowhere in sight now.

“No!” Claire screamed again, as she saw him hobble away. “Jamie! Get back here!”

But he ignored her. Pushing through the pain he made his way to the exit and out into the night.

Claire frantically dropped her gun, hand sticky and shaking, still holding firmly down on the girl’s wound, she fumbled for her phone and dialed 911, putting it on speaker as she did so.

She heard gunshots coming from outside and was barely able to hold back the sob that threatened to undo her, just as the operator’s voice chimed, “911, what’s your emergency?”

Just then, Claire heard Jamie bellow “Ifrinn!” moments before coming back through the door he’d run out of, leaning heavily on the door frame.

“911, what’s your emergency?” the operator repeated.

“My name is special agent Claire Beauchamp,” she replied, watching Jamie slowly slide down onto his backside, pulling his belt free as he did and tying it tightly around his thigh. “And I need immediate medical assistance…”

***

Claire, arms crossed, paced while the EMT put the finally touches to Jamie’s bandaged leg. The stubborn Scot had adamantly refused to be taken to the hospital.

“It isna serious, Sassenach,” he said, shifting his weight where he sat at the back of the ambulance. “Ye said it yerself, it’s a through and through.”

“She’s right though, detective,” the EMT put in, “you should get it checked by a doctor.” When he’d finished up, made his way back to the front of the rig.

They were quiet for a while, the sounds and lights of the police cars and ambulances blaring around them. Jamie could see by the tightness of her pursed lips how annoyed she was.

“Claire…” he said quietly. “How’s the girl?”

Claire let out a deep sigh, running a hand through her mass of messy curls. “Pollyanne Cameron. She was stable when we got her into the helicopter. I think she’ll be alright, but you can never be sure with those kinds of injuries.”

A harried looking officer approached them, bursts of crackling sound coming from her radio. “We’ve found the small get-away speedboat detective Fraser described, run aground a few miles down the coast - which was registered to the victim,” she said without preamble. “No sign of the suspect. We did find spots of blood in it, though.”

Claire nodded. “I think I caught her with one of my rounds as she fled.”

“Bad enough to need a doctor?” Jamie asked.

“No,” Claire replied, “she was still pretty mobile after the hit.” She turned to the officer and said, “Still, have all the hospitals and clinics from here to the mainland on high alert, and have officers canvas any and all stores that carry any kind of first aid supplies.”

The officer nodded and hurried off, relaying Claire’s orders over the radio.

Claire resumed her pacing, Jamie quietly watching on. He breathed out forlornly as the silence stretched between them.

“Mo nighean donn,” he finally said when he couldn’t take it anymore. “I’m sorry I didna heed ye earlier.”

Claire whipped round to look at him, a look of confused surprise on her face. “Heed me…?” she repeated. Then it dawned on her what he meant. “You think I’m mad at you for—?” she asked, incredulous.

He nodded.

“Jamie…” she said, taking a step towards him. “I was - am - angry. But not with you. Exasperated, maybe,” she joked, “but not angry.” It was his turn to look at her confused. She smiled and carefully stood between his knees. “I’m angry we couldn’t get to Geillis sooner and that girl got hurt. I’m angry she got away,” she cupped his face in her hands and brought his forehead to hers, “but most of all, I am livid you got hurt - again. That’s the second time that bitch has shot you, Jamie, and I’ll be damned if I let her ever get the opportunity to do so again!” she finished fiercely.

His arms came around her waist pulling her closer, and with a cheeky look around, kissed her quickly but thoroughly.

“Is that all then, Sassenach?” he asked, sensing that it wasn’t.

“It’s just…” Claire began, “what Geillis said. About showing me what it’s like to go through…” she said, not meeting his eye.

Jamie’s hands tightened around her instinctively. “Ye’ve been skeptical this whole time, yet that ye choose to believe?” he asked her with a laugh.

“Don’t you laugh!” she said, playfully hitting his shoulder. “After everything we’ve seen, there’s some truth to it. I can’t keep denying it, even though I can’t explain it. She knew my name. How did she know my name?” she sounded more worried than he’d ever heard her be before, which made Jamie’s stomach toss uncomfortably. “The thought of being parted from you, Jamie… petrifies me.”

“All I ken is that yer wi’ me now, Claire. I dinna care what the fuck that whackadoodle has to say on the matter, I willna be parted from ye - or ye from me. Ever. D’ye hear me?” he added, giving her a small shake. He meant it, with every fibre of his being. She nodded but didn’t look all that convinced. Seeing her so genuinely worried, squeezed his heart painfully. He quickly searched for anything to say that would distract her away from thoughts of them being separated.

“You know, Sassenach, these were my favourite jeans, you didna need to butcher them so,” he said fingering the tattered pieces of torn, bloodied fabric around his exposed thigh. “Ye only ever need ask, and I’d drop them for ye anytime ye like,” he added cockily.

“Don’t get saucy with me, Fraser,” Claire said, pursing her lips trying - and failing - to stop herself from smiling. “Are you in pain?” she asked, concerned, hand pressing against his forehead checking for fever.

“Och, not so much,” he replied.

“You’ll need antibiotics, at the very least, and some painkillers—”

“Well then, it’s a very good thing I have a physician of my own at hand, aye?” he said, giving her bum a squeeze, making her whelp and whirl around to make sure no one was watching them.

“Christ, Jamie!” she breathed, but letting him pull her back between his legs. “You have got to be by far the most pig headed, stubborn—”

“—Scot, aye, I ken,” he smiled and buried his nose into the crook of her neck. “Now will ye take me back to our room and warm me?”

FAITH | 2X07