#relayteam

The lovely @whiskynottea has volunteered to take the job of delivering the next chapter! Afterwards, we will follow the remaining list (if you don’t want to take part, please let me know in advance). 

@romancoin

@notevenjokingrightnow

@lenny9987

@thescarlettpeacock

@internallydeceased

@nandan11

@yanceyrenee

@diversemediums

@faeriesfanficemporium

@technicallysizzlingcloud

@owlish-peacock36

@what-would-hermione-granger-do

@jesushrooseveltchristsuperstar

@hardblazesong

@notyobeerwench

@westerhos

@cagedbirdsong

Hey, this is @kalendraashtar here! Just to let everyone know the writer’s list has been updated, so you can catch up with the updated team for the relay here!

Heya everyone, this is @suhailauniverse for #7 of the Outlander Fanfic Relay!

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6.

 She woke with a bone rattling jolt, her heart racing, ears deafeningly ringing and a film of cold sweat coating her skin, her breath coming in painful gasps. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the pitch darkness, her body and mind coming back to her as a car horn blew in the distance.

Jamie. The name scorched through her as she fisted her hands in her sheets. Jamie. He’d stood there, amidst the carnage, a look of unutterable sadness on his face as he gazed back at her. At once she sat up and stared at her hands. They’d glowed, as he’d done, and she could have sworn on everything she was the faintest of glimmers faded right before her eyes, but as she blinked, it was gone. Her hands lay upon her lap as unremarkable as they’d always been.

A dream, she told herself, shakily, it was just a fucking dream. Yet she could still feel the crisp night air caress her skin, the smell of death pricked her nostrils and an ache coursed through her as she’d never felt before. An ache that ripped her insides as finely as a surgical blade. An ache so acute, it took her breath away. She pressed her fist to her chest, a feeble attempt to slow down her heart rate, to stifle the pain that threatened to burst from within. Laying back down, she tried taking a few deep, steadying breaths, but nothing helped. Just a dream.

She pictured him then, as she’d known him - full of life and energy, despite his illness. His smile and gentle touch, a touch felt so sparingly as she tended him. His soothing voice and comforting presence, a balm. Without realizing it, her body had at once relaxed in the thought of him. How could the simple thought of a man she hardly knew have such an instantaneous effect on her? He seemed in that moment more real than anything she’d ever known. And before she’d even known that she’d decided, she was bolting off her bed, and years of practice at getting dressed in record time, was already halfway into whatever she could get her hands on in the dark.

What the hell are you doing, Beauchamp? She asked herself hopping down her hallway on one booted foot, as she stuffed the other into its mate. She had no answer to what was driving her, only that she knew, without any doubt, that she had to see him, talk to him. He’d said he’d heard the screaming too. What if...

She knew his address was in his medical files she’d brought home with her that day - she’d felt an inexplicable need to review his history after the incident at the hospital, but they’d proved frustratingly unhelpful, for the answers she sought couldn’t be gleaned from blood tests and doctors notes. She needed him.

She jotted down his address roughly on a piece of napkin, a sense of familiarity guiding her hand, and paused suddenly, hearing a soft shuffling on the other side of her front door. She froze where she stood, the hairs on her arms rising. She moved quickly then, towards the door, her heart beginning to race once more, not with fear this time, but promise. Her shaking hands fumbled with the lock, but finally opened it.

And there he stood, disheveled and still in his pajamas and slippers, with nothing but a overcoat on against the chilly air. They stood silently, staring, his eyes burrowing into hers, as they’d done on that field what felt like mere moments earlier.

“How’d you--?” she began, quietly.

“I… I felt ye, Sassenach. I saw ye!”