#number19

I don’t really know why I am doing this…just an experiment, I guess.  I am off work today and, well, I just wanted to see if I could write something to go with a bit of music.  I like to play around with Bear McCreary’s musical themes and thought I’d try to write something that goes together for the scavenger hunt, ‘cause I never play along, I just consume.  

So here goes…

This is part of a…well, I can’t really call it a fanfic. A drabble? I don’t know what it is really.  The story (?not even sure if I can call it that?) is set before the Civil War in the US. No time travel involved.  I don’t really know if it can be called a fanfic because it mostly just uses Jamie & Claire as characters/names and that is about it.  This bit is after Jamie has spent weeks traveling to return to their home in West Virginia.  The timing is post war, which Jamie fought in, and he has finally made his way to their farm and, as he walks down the lane toward the house, sees her for the first time in 3 years.

 Jamie closed his eyes and felt himself sway a little bit.  Despite the waves of relief that washed over him at the sight of the farmhouse and then Claire, he began to feel confused at her lack of a reaction to his presence.  He wanted to run to her, hold her, kiss her, but she seemed frozen where she was and in no hurry to welcome him home.  Once again, he felt his emotions in conflict.  As the silence wore on, he began to worry that maybe his relief was premature.   

Finally, Claire spoke, “Are you badly injured?” 

Jamie opened his eyes and was nearly overcome by all that he was feeling: relief, joy, grief for all the time spent apart from each other and his growing worry that there was some other unexpected change that the war had wrought.  

He could barely answer her by saying, “No, my arm is mostly healed.”  That was a bit of a stretch, but it was all he could manage.   

Still, Claire hadn’t moved an inch toward him but her eyes bore into his.  Her eyes were one of the first things that he noticed about her years ago.  The golden flecks in the amber pools were still there, but they weren’t dancing with amusement or flashing with anger as he had seen them do so many times before.  Today, though beautiful, they seemed still and silent, as though some light had been extinguished.  Jamie felt his countenance falter at that thought.  He began to worry in earnest and, with his weary mind racing, he haltingly said her name again, questioning this time. 

“Claire?” 

She replied, somewhat haltingly, that she thought that he was dead.  Jamie immediately realized that his sudden arrival must have utterly shocked her.  He keenly felt the years of worry about her survival and the fears that he had faced each day and a part of his empty heart filled with sadness for what she must have had to face, thinking that he was dead.  It was almost too much to bear, even now, with each of them knowing the other was alive.  

He could feel the choking tears that had been threatening fill his eyes as he whispered, “I’m here.  I’m alive, only just, but I’m…”  

He couldn’t go on.  His voice broke as he choked on the emotion behind the words.  And still, he had yet to touch his wife, to place his hand on her cheek and tell her that he loved her.  He couldn’t begin to imagine what she was thinking and feeling, and his own feelings were so jumbled and raw that it was becoming exhausting just standing there.   

Finally, she put her hand on his chest and, as if afraid that she might hurt him, gently wrapped her arms around him.  He circled his good arm around her and drew her to him, as tight as he dared.  He breathed in her scent, sweet and beautiful, even now, after all she must have endured. Jamie felt her arms tighten around him as well.  He tried to say her name again, but the tears that had been threatening began to pour down his cheeks and into her chestnut curls, loose around her shoulders.  He lost all thought except the feel of her in his arms, her face pressed against his chest.  Three years of longing and loneliness swept over him as he cried.    

Claire, in a voice now thick with her own tears, murmured “You’re home.” 

TD_1314_08 Wet Tip Hen Ax by Aphex Twin

TD_1282_06 Come On You Slags by Aphex Twin