#ltm7

“He’s fucking married, G.” Claire wipes her sleeve across her eyes, but it isn’t enough. She leans back against the couch, letting tears course down her temples into her hair.

“What?!”

“I was at his flat. He took me there after… well, some arsehole tried to mug and grope me when I left the hospital—” Geillis lets out a groan and sits next to her on the floor, but Claire waves her away—“I’m fine! That’s the point, Jamie was there, somehow.”

“Fucking stalker,” Geillis growls.

“That’s what he said.” Claire hiccups, holding more tears at bay. “But he saved me, G. I went into shock.” She ignores another of Geillis’s grunts. “We went to his flat, he gave me whisky and was making tea in the kitchen when I discovered he had hidden his wedding picture.”

“What does she look like?”

“Really?” Claire wants to laugh at Geillis’s inane non-sequitur. She knows it’s also G trying to distract her. “Blonde, I think? I didn’t really stop to look closer. I left the picture next to my glass on his living room table and left.”

“Nice.” Geillis wrapped her arms around Claire. “I’m so sorry, love. That he was such a prick, I mean. I feel partly responsible. I gave him yer number and pushed ye to go out with him!”

“I made my own choices, G. None of it is your fault. I just never thought I’d be that woman.” Claire glances at her mobile, silent and useless on the table. She had turned it off when she left his flat, after using it to call Geillis. She had missed calls, voicemails, and a few texts; she had responded to none. She is unfortunately familiar with betrayal, and doesn’t want to hear the usual excuses, platitudes, lies. It seems he isn’t going to show up at her home, and for that Claire is glad—he has a small sense of shame, after all.

“What happened to yer attacker? Did the police show up? Did ye file a report?”

Claire pauses. “No. There was—I didn’t even stop to think, but Jamie, he… he made a call. I don’t know. I don’t know what happened to the other man.” She breaks down sobbing.

Geillis holds her a long time. Over her friend’s shoulder, she can see bruises dotting her wrist. If it hadn’t been for Jamie…

X-x-X

“There’s a patient for ye in four, dearie.” Mrs. Baird hands Claire a chart. “Some sort of accident involving his hands, he wasn’t very forthcoming with information.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I’m off at six today, and please let me know how the concussion does through the night.” She walks over to the recessed exam area and pulls the curtain back. That glint of hair is unmistakable and Claire stops in her tracks. It’s Jamie.

He looks as though he hasn’t slept, eyes hollow, unshaved and unkempt. Something tugs at her heartstrings, but she immediately tamps it down, steel in her spine and in her glare.

“Sassenach, please, I must—”

“No.” Such a simple word, no. Claire turns heel towards the nurses’ station, where Mrs. Baird stares at her in confusion.

“I can’t treat this patient. Is there anyone—”

“I’ll do it.” Geillis, out of nowhere, marches to the room and slides the curtain shut. Claire can make out the barest of venomous whispers, including fuck and prick. G is apparently ripping him a new one; the sound of a sharp sudden smack has her speeding back to the exam area against her will.

She peeks inside and Jamie is sitting there meekly, head hanging down, a reddish imprint fresh on his cheek. Claire feels a small vindictive thrill of satisfaction, but that is gone when Jamie glances up and catches her eyes.

“Seems I probed a little too hard,” Geillis says sweetly, hands on her hips. “His hands are a bloody mess. Serves him right.” Jamie nods in agreement, his gaze holding fast.

Claire steps in, unable to stop herself. “But they didn’t look so bad, last night…” She clamps her lips shut, remembering last night. She remembers the shadowed face of her assailant, too. “What happened to him? In the alley?”

“What?” Jamie looks confused.

“The bloke that tried to mug me! There were no police involved, who did you call?”

“Oh. Aye. There’s a colleague at Leoch… his job is to fix things. Anything ye need. Legally. Or otherwise.” Jamie looks sheepish. “Dinna fash, the man is safely behind bars.”

Claire huffs, arms crossed defensively. “So what happened to your hands?”

“I… I met a tree. In Hyde Park. I was upset. Not at ye, of course, never, but at myself. At whatever possessed me to think I could lie to ye,” Jamie says, quiet and ashamed.

“I don’t give a bloody fuck,” Claire hisses, livid at the nerve of the man who thought he could just show up at the hospital and expect her to drop everything and listen to a single word he had to say. “You’re married, and you bloody well should have told me before I slept with you!”

“I tried, but—”

“Jesus H Christ, you tried? My own husband cheated on me! Did you honestly think for a second—” Claire sees him wince at this information and she stops cold. She doesn’t have to explain, she doesn’t have to make him understand.

“C? Let me bandage him up and then I’ll have security throw him out.” Jamie opens his mouth to protest but a single look from Geillis makes him reconsider. “I’ll put the prick on the blacklist, ye willna have to—”

“I married her to protect my family,” Jamie says in a low tone. Claire and Geillis both turn to him, stunned at the admission.

“What?” Claire asks flatly. She is still protective of herself, but caught off-guard by his words.

“Will ye let me just explain why I didn’t tell ye? It wasn’t to trick ye, I swear on my mam’s grave.” Jamie looks at them pleadingly, and Geillis is the first to move.

“Ye ken, I think I hear Mrs. Baird calling. C, I’ll be right outside if ye need me, aye?” With a quick squeeze of Claire’s hand, she leaves them alone once more. Tension hums thickly in the air, and Claire decides the sooner he speaks, the sooner he’ll go.

“Doctor-patient confidentiality?” Jamie asks, and Claire nods curtly. “Her name is Laoghaire. She is my wife in name only. We dinna even wear weddin’ rings, I—she entered into this arrangement knowing it would be a sham marriage. I ken she loves someone else, Joseph Cameron. But we dinna go around advertising how we manage our relationship.”

“An open marriage, is that it? Or why is it a sham?”  

“I was… forced to wed Laoghaire. There are circumstances beyond my control. What I said before is true, I meant to protect my family, our livelihood. I ken it all sounds suspect, but—please. If ye dinna believe me, I’d like ye talk to Murtagh Fitzgibbons. He’s my godfather, Chief Superintendent for Glasgow Police Scotland.”

Claire fights against the lump in her throat. She finds herself wanting to believe him, but is much too tired to make sense of it all. “Police? What is this, Jamie? Why?”

“Ye make me feel things I haven't felt, want things I shouldna want—and dinna deserve.” Jamie swallows hard. “I’ve never met anyone that comes close to ye and I’m afraid to reach out and have ye, knowing I’ll lose you.”

Claire bites her lip. “How can I trust anything you say?”