Escape: the residency years

First thing in the morning.  That’s what the box said.  

She sat there waiting for the result.  She dared not touch it.  The instructions said it needed to lay flat for the duration of the time. 

She watched the stopwatch app on her phone.  It was the longest two minutes of her life.  

In her heart of hearts, she already knew.  She was a doctor, after all.  Her gag reflex was on high alert making brushing her teeth darn near impossible.  She felt fatigue at every turn. She just felt….off.   

She peeked over at the stick as if it were dangerous.  She tried to pick it up, but her hands were shaking so badly she couldn’t hold it, so she set it back down.  

Disbelief, followed by sheer, utter joy.  A grin split her face. 

“JAMIE!”  she shouted. “JAMIE!”

Jamie stood at the bottom of the stairs.  He was afraid to go up.  Afraid of what he’d see. He knew her body had changed. Even if he were blind, he’d know it. He touched his wife far too often not to notice the tenderness, the fullness.  He desired her constantly, so he knew the rhythm of her body well.  

Yet, he’d had his hopes dashed before.  

“THERE ARE TWO PINK LINES!”  

He jumped.  That was good, right?  Ifrinn, he couldn’t remember.  He ran his shaking hands through his hair.  

Should he believe it?  Should he trust it?  He’d read about the false positives.  

The thunder of running feet over his head was a testament to Claire’s excitement. She skidded to a halt at the top of the stairs, dressed in one of his old tee-shirts, and those damn pink knickers he’d first seen her in.  Her hair was a wild mess of curls not yet tamed from sleep, face flushed with elation.

She brandished the plastic stick like a sword.  

“I want it confirmed by a doctor,” he said, brows drawn together.

“Bu- but, I am a doctor!” Claire insisted. “You bloody, stubborn Scot.  They’ll do exactly the same thing in an office!”

“No offense, Claire, yer but a resident.”  

“James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser,” Claire said, tone incredulous. “You did not just say that.”  She’d chalk it up to nerves. Or shock. 

They stared at each other across the expanse of the staircase.  He tried to stay calm.  When she started to giggle he couldn’t hold it together. His mouth twitched with just a hint of a smile.  When she laughed outright, it was music to his ears.  He couldn’t help but laugh with her.  

And with that he sprinted up the stairs, two at a time, caught his wife around the waist, and spun her around, peppering kisses all over her face.  


Ifrinn, he was nervous.  

She wasn’t.  She was as certain as she could be.  His fingers tapped restlessly on his thigh.  

She reached over and lifted his big hand into hers, linked their fingers together. He risked a glance at his wife.  She was smiling softly, relaxed and serene.

Her thumb caressed his hand.  He cupped their hands with his bigger one.  He couldn’t stand it.  How long did this take for God’s sake???

She lifted their hands and kissed his knuckles.  He took a deep breath.  

She nodded, and he nodded back.

And then the door opened….

“Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Fraser.” said the Obstetrician.  “You’re expecting.”


A Wild Night in Vegas -- Part 10

I feel like I say this with every chapter, but Ish and I enjoy this AU so much. It’s helped keep us sane in crazy days of stress and confusion and all sorts of things. Hope you like this chapter!

Catch up on all previous installments on my Master List


Fraser Bairn Watch: Month 4

Things were definitely beginning to change inside her body. She could feel it, even as she watched the changes. Her belly was beginning to really grow now, no longer appearing as if she’d eaten too much. Some mornings she would steal Jamie’s phone before he woke and flip through the photos he had of her belly. There were only a few of them, since they’d found out late, but he kept them in their own folder in his phone.

That was one of the best things about this situation. No matter how she was feeling, how many times she’d thrown up, or how many evenings she fell asleep halfway through her meal, he was happy. He was overjoyed to watch her grow.

She wasn’t getting as sick this month, though it still happened. Jamie was so good about making sure whatever had triggered her sickness didn’t make it onto the grocery list for that week.

He came home, several bags of groceries in his hands and a small bundle of flowers.

“You’re going to spoil me, Jamie Fraser. If you’re not careful, I’ll start expecting flowers every month.”

With a wink and a kiss on her cheek, he went to set the bags down. As he put their groceries away, she set the roses up in the vase where the previous three had been.

“Four roses for four months,” he said, coming up behind her. “Because I love ye more than my own life and I thank ye for carrying my bairn.”

The following day, she went to work as she usually did, armed with a cool water bottle and several frozen washcloths to help keep her cool. She’d had an idea brewing in her mind, but she hadn’t figured out how to execute it yet.

Jamie had done so much for her, given up so many things for her, and steadfastly held true since before she had moved out and back (if she was honest with herself), and she wanted to figure out what she could do for him. He wasn’t a materialistic man, he didn’t need things. She wanted to do something else, take him somewhere closer to home, but still have it feel like a getaway.

There were quite a few options that they could afford that were nearby, but she hadn’t been able to make a concrete decision yet. As she finished her shift, she watched a young family wander through the gardens. The man and woman held hands as they walked, their eyes content as they looked at each other. Their little girl toddled around them, eager to explore everything around her. Both parents looked at their child with such tenderness and fondness that Claire felt tears pricking her eyes.

The whole drive home, the image of the young family played in her mind’s eye. When she walked in the door, she stared around the front room with her mouth open. She wasn’t a messy person by nature, but with her odd cravings at times, she ate food just about everywhere. Jamie never complained about it either, which was comforting. Frank had hated if she’d had a snack somewhere other than the kitchen table.

But the entire apartment, from what she could see, was spotless. The carpet was freshly vacuumed, she could still see the lines in it, and everything had been dusted. When she put her bag down and headed into the kitchen for the extra washcloth Jamie kept frozen for her, she noticed that he’d even mopped and wiped down the counter. The bathroom was also probably wiped down and scrubbed as well, if he’d gone to this much trouble.

He was moving about the kitchen as if some exciting tune was playing that only he could hear. As he did, he hummed something she didn’t recognize. Sometimes when he was in a really good mood, he’d hum or chant something he’d heard growing up in Scotland. Given the cadence she thought this thing he was humming might be along those lines.

A pot sat on the stove, Jamie stirring its contents. She thought she smelled chili powder, but wasn’t sure. He had a few other bowls sitting out on the counter filled with a few different things and she realized what he was making. Meatless taco salad. It was something he’d tried a few weeks back and she’d loved it. None of the things in it had made her sick or given her heartburn.

Watching him swaying to his own music, an overwhelming sense of fondness flooded her and she began weeping.

“Claire?” He turned suddenly, surprised to see her standing behind him and noticed the tears flowing down her cheeks. “Christ! Are ye alright lass?! The bairn?”

Unable to form words, she just stared at his blurry image and wept.

“Is it something in the kitchen bothering ye? I thought it was alright last time and ye liked it so much… If it’s too much I can make something else.”

“No! No don’t do that!” she said, suddenly finding the words. “It’s just… You’re such a good man, Jamie. I know you had training at work today and you still had the time to come home and clean our whole apartment and make dinner. I just… I’m just…”

When the words fled from her mind again, she reached for him and brought his lips down to hers. He was surprised at first, but quickly melted into her embrace and returned it.

“I love you too, mo chridhe,” he whispered when she let him go. “Are ye sure the bairn’s alright?”

“Yes,” she said, spreading her hand over the small swell. “We’re both alright. I was just a little emotional. These goddamned bloody hormones. I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, laughing, and went back to them stove.

“Dinna apologize for that, Sassenach. It comes wi’ the territory of you being wi’ child.”

She smiled. “How long until dinner is ready?”

“Only a few more minutes. Just need to heat the beans and corn back up and throw it all together.”

The idea that had been forming in her mind came suddenly to life and she knew what she needed to do.

“Alright. I just have a few things I need to do on the computer.”

Before she turned away, he took two steps toward her and stole another kiss.

Sitting down at her desk, she opened up her laptop and began researching Lake Mead. It was about an hour from their apartment and would be a perfect thing for them to do. They could get away without really going anywhere and have some time just to themselves. She knew Jamie would love it.

Friday night, she snuggled up to him and began playing with the hairs on his chest.

“Have you any plans this weekend?”

“Ah… No, I dinna think so. Why?”

“What if we went to Lake Mead for the day tomorrow?”

Craning his neck, he looked down at her, brows raised.

“Oh? For the day? We dinna have a boat.”

“No, but we can rent one.”

He leaned down and kissed her forehead.

“Aye, I’d like that verra much, Sassenach. Thank ye.”

“Well, this is sort of my way to say thank you actually. You’ve done so much for me since I told you I was pregnant. You’ve taken such good care of me, so I’ve got a whole day planned for us.”

“Have ye now? Been planning this for some time, then?”

She shrugged.

“Not really. It’s been brewing in my head for a while, but it only just fell into place.”

“I look forward to seeing what ye’ve planned for us, then.”

With a smile, she hugged him tightly and relaxed into sleep.

The following morning, she packed a few things into a large bag and they drove out to Lake Mead. They picked up their rental boat and Jamie set out to find a spot of beach just for them. It was hot, but being out on the lake was more fun than she’d expected. She stayed under the awning with him while he drove the boat around.

He looked good out here, dressed only in his swim trunks as he’d shed his shirt as soon as they’d gotten on the boat. She wore the only swimsuit she owned, but had put his shirt on over it.

“It’s a beautiful day,” he said, staring out at the blue water.

“It really is. I was worried it might rain, but it looks like the sky has cleared up.”

“Aye. Thank ye, Sassenach. This is a verra nice thing to do.”

They ate lunch on the beach, laying out on the towels she’d brought with them. It was too hot to be too near each other, but they were comfortable this way.

“We canna make love on a public beach, can we?” he asked some time later.

Claire snorted.

“This corner might be secluded, but it’s not that secluded. See?” she nodded to someone flying by on a jet ski.

He sighed.

“Someday I want to take ye somewhere and make love to ye on a beach.”

“Why?”

“Dinna ken. Something I’ve never done and I suspect ye havena either. Always thought it would be verra romantic to do that.”

She smiled at him.

“You really are a romantic at heart, aren’t you?”

“Aye, maybe I am. Ye said ye had other plans for us today?”

“I do. We’ll need to head back soon so I can get started on our dinner.”

Nodding, he helped her up and gathered her into his arms for a very thorough kiss.

“Then let’s return the boat and head home.”

On the drive back, she dozed off a little. Jamie woke her when they got back to their apartment.

“Can I help ye wi’ the meal?”

“No, you can’t. Go and read or watch TV or something. It’s my turn to appreciate all that you’ve done for me.”

Pursing his lips, he grunted and went to the couch to read. She got to work on a full dinner for him. Pan-seared steaks, his favorite garlic mashed potatoes, and cheesy broccoli. The last time he’d had cheesy broccoli had been over a month before and it had ended with her vomiting in the bathroom. But she knew how much he’d loved it, so she made it for him.

When the meal was all done, she set the table and looked proudly at all she’d done.

“Christ Sassenach, this looks amazing!”

“I hope so. It’s all your favorites.”

“And the cheesy… Claire, ye dinna need to cook things ye canna eat.”

Shaking her head, she motioned to his seat and he took it.

“This is something you like, Jamie. I wanted to do this for you.”

“It isna fair for me to eat it and you to-”

“I made you these bloody cheesy broccoli to say thank you, damn it! Will you not just eat them?!”

He blinked and looked down sheepishly.

“You’re right. I’m sorry, Sassenach. I appreciate that ye made them for me.”

“Good. Now eat up. I have one last thing planned for tonight.”

After they finished, Jamie insisted that she leave the dishes for him to take care of the next day. Reluctantly, she agreed.

“So what are we to do next? Dessert, perhaps?”

The glint in his eye made her giggle a little.

“Maybe later. How are your shoulders?”

He moved them stiffly, as if his shirt didn’t fit him quite right.

“Still sore. But no’ so bad as they were a few days ago. Ye’ve a good touch.”

“Lie down on the bed. Take off your shirt and trousers.”

As he did, she caught the wince he tried to hide. No matter what he did, all of the tension and soreness from his work ended up in his broad shoulders. He lay down on their bed arms folded beneath the pillow she’d moved for him.

“I’m glad we did this today,” she said, running her hands up his back.

He shivered a little, gooseflesh rippling over him

“Aye, me too. It’s always good to get away wi’ you. Helps to get away from the city and the strip. Sometimes I think…”

Squeezing the bottle of oil, which she’d gotten specifically with this in mind, onto his back, she began to work it into his muscles.

“Think what?”

“You’ll think I’m daft.”

“I live with you. I already know you’re daft.”

One blue eye opened a crack to glare at her. She smiled at it and started digging her fingers into his tense back.

“Weel now I’m no’ gonna tell you.”

“Please? I like to hear what you’re thinking.”

A knot in his lower back gave way and he let out a deep sigh.

“Weel… Sometimes I find myself thinking that if the whole world fell away, I would be alright. Because I have you.”

Again, she felt tears in her eyes.

“Oh Jamie, that’s very sweet. I couldn’t think you daft for that.”

“Thank ye, Sassenach.”

Working slowly, she released the knots in his lower back and middle back before reaching his shoulders. His breathing was slow and even, but he wasn’t asleep. She climbed onto the bed and held herself above him to get a better angle.

Putting as much pressure into her hands as she could, she compelled the knots to release. Closing her eyes, she imagined the muscle held beneath his skin. She thought of how they should look, how they should feel, how they should move. Kneading and pressing in the places her hands told her, she continued until she felt the tightness give. Jamie let out a mighty gasp, his body flinching beneath her.

“Oh… Claire that…”

“Did it work?”

“Aye, lass. It worked verra well. I dinna think my shoulders have felt this good in weeks.”

With a pleased smile, she got off the bed.

“Good! That was the whole point of doing this, after all.”

Jamie rolled onto his back, staring up at her. His eyes drooped, but they glittered with desire and mischief.

“Though, now that ye have me thinkin’…”

Claire snorted, already opening the bottle of oil again.

“What? Are you going to tell me your cock has a certain stiffness as well?”

He smirked at her and shook his head.

“It doesna yet. But I think other bits of me could use yer touch.”

As she looked his body over, she thought it would be most enjoyable to start from the bottom and work her way up, skipping sensitive areas. With the majority of his body now covered in oil, she felt her own desire stirring. How could someone be so perfectly formed? In the waning light of the room he looked like a sculpture of a Greek god, in the living flesh.

Her eyes darted down to his crotch and she smiled. Living flesh indeed. Flesh that she needed to feel. Hands back on his chest, she made the mistake of looking up to meet his eyes.

She was drawn to him by some invisible force. He made no move for her and said nothing. Yet he compelled her to bring herself closer. Was it the eyes? Perhaps. But it was also more than that, as if his soul was calling to hers and it was calling back.

Before she even realized how close to him she was, her mouth found his. Both of his arms came around her waist then and pulled her up onto the bed. Feeling his body beneath hers shortened her breath.

At some point, he’d begun to pull her jeans off. Forcing herself to get off him for a moment, she stood and finished what he’d started. Jamie was not one for remaining idle, though. Hopping to his own feet, he pulled her to him and kissed her hard.

His skin was smooth to her hands, oiled as it was. She couldn’t help but smile when his hands found her buttocks, squeezing them excitedly. Then he pushed her panties off before removing his boxers.

“I must have ye now, Claire,” he said, voice strained with his desire.

“Then have me,” she answered.

He brought her back into his arms and began to tug at her shirt. She shied away from him, pulling it back down. His brow furrowed at her, eyes narrowing in question.

“Just leave it.”

“And no’ see your beautiful body in all it’s naked glory? I think not, Sassenach. Off wi’ it.”

Reaching for it again, he had her stomach exposed before she started to pull it back down. For a moment, she thought about insisting, but that would lead to questions. Instead, she lifted her arms so he could take the last bit of covering from her.

He laid her down on their bed, pausing briefly to kiss her stomach. Then he moved back up to kiss her lips.

“Thank ye, Claire, for all you’ve done today. Taking me out for a day on the lake, cooking me a verra fine dinner, even wi’ things ye couldna eat. And then ye tend my body? I’ve never kent a woman like you.”

“I don’t think there’s ever been a woman quite like me before,” she sighed before stroking his face. “Or a man quite like you.”

“I’m glad I found ye.”

She opened her mouth to say something back, but was cut off by his sudden thrust. Whatever she’d done to help relieve the tension in his back and shoulders had clearly made him feel better. He moved with a frenzy she hadn’t felt in some time, like he was making love to her for the first time.

Her legs couldn’t lock around him, constantly slipping off his body from the oil as much as his vigor. She let her head fall back onto the pillow. His lips visited her neck, biting gently. Her back arched off the bed in response, hands clawing at his back uselessly as they slipped and slid against his skin. Lifting her head up, she bit his neck in kind, spurring him to rear up and continue his merciless attack on her body, hands exploring every piece of her as she did the same.

Overwhelmed by the animalistic feelings aroused in him, he pushed on, growling into Claire’s ear, “Ye’re mine, mo nighean donn. Now and forever, yer mine.”

He gripped her hips to hold her body in position while he continued on. The end was coming nearer, her body preparing for that release it needed desperately. Taking a grip on his hair, she pulled him back down to her and bit his shoulder hard to mute her scream. Then he too cried out, his own body bucking against hers.

They lay together for several minutes, neither able to move after the climax faded. Jamie gave her a very sweet kiss before rolling onto his side. She curled up in his arms, observing the bright red mark she’d left him.

“Sorry about that one,” she said quietly, poking it.

He hissed a little.

“Dinna fash. Was worth a little pain to hear ye squeak like that.”

With a contented sigh, she pressed her ear to his chest and let his steady heartbeat sing her to sleep.

###

The following night, Jamie was nudged awake by his wife. Grunting, he forced his eyes open.

“Are ye alright?” he mumbled. “The bairn?”

“We’re alright. Would you mind… Maybe going and getting us some hot wings?”

“Are ye daft? I dinna even ken what the time is.”

With a heavy sigh, he looked at the clock on her bedside table.

2:31 AM

“Wings? Ye want hot wings? Now?”

She smiled sheepishly.

“Pregnancy cravings?”

“If ye start craving pickles wi’ yer ice cream, I’m moving out,” he said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “But if it’s hot wings ye need, it’s hot wings ye’ll get.”

“Thank you, darling.”

“Anything for you.”

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he tried to ignore the clock inside his car. He drove around for nearly half an hour until he found a place that was open and sold hot wings. As he pulled up to the window, his phone buzzed.

Hello darling. Could you maybe pick up some cheesy chips too? Thank you!

The speaker squacked and a woman yawned.

“What can I get you?”

“I’d like an order of hot wings and cheesy chips, please. Thank ye.”

“One order of hot wings and one order of nachos. That’ll be-”

“No, miss. I’m sorry. I mean cheese fries.”

“Hot wings, nachos, and cheese fries. That’ll be…”

Jamie rolled his eyes. He was too tired to argue with the woman at three in the morning.

He tripped several times as he went up the stairs to their apartment, but he kept the food from dropping. She was in bed, wiggling like an excited puppy. Her nose flared when he walked in.

“Did you get nachos too?”

“I forgot to say cheesy fries rather than cheesy chips, so she thought I meant nachos. But I got you proper chips too.”

Laying out a napkin on the bed, she pulled the things out of the bag and began shoveling them into her open mouth, still wiggling happily.

“Why did it take you so long?” she asked, licking hot sauce from her fingers.

“It isna easy to find a place that sells hot wings at three in the morning.”

When she smiled at him, he sighed and wiped the sauce from her chin.

“You’re a good husband.”

His heart leapt, hearing her say that, though he chose to keep that feeling to himself. Instead, he stole a cheesy and slightly spicy kiss from her.

“Here,” she said, setting the nachos out. “Share with me.”

“I wouldna dream of taking a pregnant woman’s late night cravings,” he said with a chuckle.

“Well this pregnant woman is sharing them with you. You went out at three in the morning to get them for me.”

With a nod, he gave in and split the nachos with her. They weren’t bad, he thought. When she finished, he gathered up the wrappings and took them to the kitchen trash.

Despite how tired he was now, the look of satisfaction on her face was worth it. He slid back into bed beside her and held her close. Her breath smelled like all the things she’d just eaten, but he didn’t mind.

###

After she showered in the morning, she went out to breakfast. Jamie beamed at her and kissed her cheek.

“Morning, Sassenach. Sleep well?”

“Very. Thank you for going out last night.”

“Dinna fash. Glad I got ye what ye needed. Oh! And it’s Monday. Ready for yer weekly photo?”

She was a little surprised he wanted to take it right now. It was usually something he did after he got home in the evenings.

“Oh, um… Sure, I guess.”

Going to the same spot she always stood in, she tentatively lifted her shirt to expose her growing belly. It felt heavier somehow, like a lead weight had settled in her stomach.

“Look at ye! Finally looking verra pregnant. Christ, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen!”

Verra pregnant.

Those words echoed through her mind all through her classes that day and through her short shift at the gardens. She’d known that she would get bigger, of course, she wasn’t stupid. But she wasn’t sure she liked how she was starting to look now.

She was nursing a mug of tea when Jamie came home.

“Sorry I’m home late,” he said, locking the door behind him.

“It’s alright. I just had some leftovers for dinner.”

“Are ye alright?”

She finished the tea and nodded.

“Yes, we’re both doing just fine.”

As she reached to put her mug in the sink, Jamie made a move to feel her stomach. It was something he’d done regularly since finding out about the baby. But with her newfound discomfort, she shied away from him, backing into the wall.

A hurt expression moved over his face before he stepped back. Unable to meet his eyes, she maneuvered around him to her desk to attempt studying while he ate his own leftovers for dinner. When they went to bed that night, she chose to wear a long night dress. It felt a little old fashioned, but the cut of it hid the new shapes of her body.

Jamie observed her new sleeping outfit with lifted brows, but he didn’t say anything. He only gathered her into his arms and held her as they went to sleep. She let him rest his hands on the bump, the deep-seated awful feeling she had at pulling away from him before tugging at her heart. She knew the coming days and months would bring more changes. All she could hope, for now, was that she’d grow to accept and embrace them.

2

“I know there are things ye’d not wish to tell me, Claire. Perhaps things that ye can’t tell me.” 

You don’t know just how right you are, I thought. 

“I’ll not press you, ever, or insist on knowin’ things that are your own concern,” he said seriously. He looked down at his hands, now pressed together, palm to palm.

“There are things that I canna tell you, at least not yet. And I’ll ask nothing of ye that ye canna give me. But what I would ask of ye— when you do tell me something, let it be the truth. And I’ll promise ye the same. We have nothing now between us, save— respect, perhaps. And I think that respect has maybe room for secrets, but not for lies. Do ye agree?” He spread his hands out, palms up, inviting me. I could see the dark line of the blood vow across his wrist. I placed my own hands lightly on his palms. 

“Yes, I agree. I’ll give you honesty.” His fingers closed lightly about mine.

“And I shall give ye the same. Now,” he drew a deep breath, “you asked why I wed ye.”

“I am just the slightest bit curious,” I said. 

He smiled, the wide mouth taking up the humor that lurked in his eyes. “Well, I canna say I blame ye. I had several reasons. And in fact, there’s one— maybe two— that I canna tell ye yet, though I will in time. The main reason, though, is the same reason you wed me, I imagine; to keep ye safe from the hands of Jack Randall.” 

I shuddered a bit, at the memory of the Captain, and Jamie’s hands tightened on mine. 

“You are safe,” he said firmly. “You have my name and my family, my clan, and if necessary, the protection of my body as well. The man willna lay hands on ye again, while I live.” 

“Thank you,” I said. Looking at that strong, young, determined face, with its broad cheekbones and solid jaw, I felt for the first time that this preposterous scheme of Dougal’s might actually have been a reasonable suggestion. 

The protection of my body. The phrase struck with particular impact, looking at him— the resolute set of the wide shoulders and the memory of his graceful ferocity, “showing off” at swordplay in the moonlight. He meant it; and young as he was, he knew what he meant, and bore the scars to prove it. He was no older than many of the pilots and the infantrymen I had nursed, and he knew as well as they the price of commitment. It was no romantic pledge he had made me, but the blunt promise to guard my safety at the cost of his own. I hoped only that I could offer him something in return.

1.07 The Wedding

helplessness

“I couldna help my wife; I suppose I thought I might help you. Not that I could,” he added, with some bitterness. “I am as useless to you as I was to her.”
—Jamie in Voyager, Chapter 5

Perhaps it was something in the attitudes of the soldiers, an irritableness of mood that communicated itself to him in the cave. Perhaps only the sense of doom that had clung to him since Culloden, as though everything in his vicinity were tainted; at risk by virtue only of being near him. Whether he had heard the sound of the saber or not, his body had tensed itself to spring before he saw the silver arc of the blade swing through the air.
—Jamie in Voyager, Chapter 6

You can’t, it said to him, a thready whisper under the fury and the horror that filled him. He has done this for you; you cannot make it senseless. You can’t, it said, cold as death beneath the searing rush of futility that drowned him. You can do nothing.
—Jamie in Voyager, Chapter 6

“I had to do something,” he said, shrugging. “And if the English were fool enough to pay good money for my lousy carcass—well, there’s nay law against takin’ advantage of fools, is there?”
—Jamie in Voyager, Chapter 26

“I don’t know,” he said. “Damn me to hell, I don’t know what to do!” His hands flexed suddenly into fists at his sides. He shut his eyes, breathing heavily.

I felt even more frightened at this admission. In the brief time I had been back with him, I had grown once more accustomed to having Jamie always know what to do, even in the direst circumstances. This confession seemed more upsetting than anything that had yet happened.
—Jamie in Voyager, Chapter 39

And yet there was nothing we could do. If the little Chinese was innocent, we could not save him; if he was guilty, we could not give him up. The best we might hope for was that he would not be found.
—Claire in Voyager, Chapter 60

I like powerful men with equally powerful women, who save each other’s asses because that’s their thing and God help anyone who harms their SO. I like the badass motherfucker with the head bitch in charge, taking over their domain like nobody’s business. I love the story of the hero who saves the world and the heroine who saves him. I love the couples who will burn down the world just to protect each other. That is my aesthetic.

lindseyylu17  asked:

This would totally be an AU fic but I would love to see Claire teaching a figure drawing class and Jamie being one of the students draws her.

So this is a bit of a role reversal from what you requested @lindseyylu17, but I’m enjoying it. 


“We have to what?” The entire class exclaimed in disbelief. The professor smirked and relaxed against the lab table.

“All of you heard me just fine. I expect to see the results from this class and Professor Montgomery is already expecting you starting tomorrow night. Don’t worry about supplies, Professor Montgomery says that he’ll have things ready for you each class, just remember to sign in on both of our rosters. This class starts at 8pm sharp tonight! I don’t want to hear about any of you being late!” Doctor Randall looked down at her wrist and waved her hand towards the door dismissing us.

I packed my bag with my head still reeling from what Doctor Randall required, Life Drawing, a class designed to embarrass all of the parties involved. Naked men and woman lounging for hours at a time while a gaggle of students attempted to draw their forms from various angles.

“Jesus H Roosevelt Christ!” I whisper yelled to myself as she made her way across the empty campus. “I can’t take a life drawing class I just… can’t! I can’t draw to save my life! Besides how does life drawing even fit with an anatomy class? I should be learning how to—”

“Talking to yourself again, Claire?”

“Agh!” I swung around nearly hitting my former roommate with her bag.

“Jenny!” I exclaimed clutching a hand to her heart, “you know not to sneak up on me like that!”

Jenny laughed and settled her hands on her hips, “Och aye but that’s the best time to sneak up on ye! What were you ranting to yourself about this time? Did fuddy-duddy Professor Whitman assign another frog dissection?”

Jenny’s strong Scottish accent lilting with each word and I smiled at the familiarity of if. “No, not Whitman…this time.”  

I laughed and Jenny snorted, linking her arm with mine as we made our way to the library.

“So if it wasn’t Whitman who and what did they do to deserve the horrible Beauchamp rant?”

“Doctor Randall. Not the history professor, his wife the biology professor,” I amended quickly. “Doctor Annie Randall, who isn’t even a doctor by the way! She dropped out of her residency and decided to teach Bio 425 and she’s forcing us to go to Life Drawing instead of our lab class for the next two months!”

Jenny’s eyes went wide, not only in shock but in the way I knew she was plotting something. “So ye have to take the life drawing classes this quarter?”

“Ugh! Yes. I really don’t see the point in this class. I’m in biology not art!”

“Quitcher whinging Claire and just go to the damn class. Ye never know what ye might find or should I say who.”

——–

The art room was small, cold, poorly lit and reeked of chemical adhesives. Was this really happening? I kept asking myself. Was I really taking a life drawing class? I groaned thinking of how my time would be better spent studying or in the lab examining specimens, rather in this dank room foolishly facing a class I felt was beneath me. Why art? Why did she have to send us to an art class, what good would this do or bring to us? Artist are careless junkies that will get nowhere in life. This chosen path won’t pay their bills or get them the type of scholarships needed to further pursue a career. I couldn’t fathom their reasons for joining a group that might lead them to ruin.

“Class! Come to order now, please!” The hippie who I assumed was Professor Montgomery said with a clap of his hands.

“Please cease your conversations and begin to find your way to an easel, then position yourself so that you may see the stage unobstructed.”

The so called ‘stage’ was compiled of ratty boxes haphazardly draped with tattered striped cloths and a wicker chair that look as though the weight of a butterfly would cause the fibers to crumble.

“On the easel in front of you, you shall find a fresh pad of newsprint. You have five minutes in a medium of your choice to do a nice warm up sketch of the popcorn kernel I am passing out now.”

“What?” I mumbled to myself as everyone around me pulled out pens, charcoal, pencils and pastels, even my fellow biology classmates had found a tin of pencils and were passing them around to one another.

“Ready?” Professor Montgomery paused, looking around. He pulled a stick from behind his ear and handed it to me. “You may begin!”

With the oddly shaped pencil I paused with it’s point on the paper, not sure how to start. The lumpy, misshapen mass in my hand did not resemble popcorn in the least. The people around me were making wild gestures with their arms, beautiful curves appearing on the easels I could see. Taking a steadying breath I mimicked their motions and had the faintest of curves when the timer went off and we were told to stop.

“Perfect! Now that we’re all warmed up I would like to introduce our first two weeks model.” He swept his hands towards a side door that cracked open slightly. “This is our model’s first time sitting for a life drawing class so please, everyone give the warmest of welcomes to Mr. Alexander Malcolm!”

The model appeared from behind the door clad in a fluffy blue robe. His steps were sluggish and hesitant, I got the feeling he didn’t want to be there as much as I did. He slowly made his way towards the stage, but not climbing into position.

“Mr. Malcolm, if you please.” Professor Montgomery said gesturing towards the boxes.

Mr. Malcolm stared at the professor. From the reactions I could see of my classmates and the professor, the model was challenging him.

“Mind if I work up to disrobing?” A deep and thick Scots accent drifted my way.

“Fine!” Came the angry reply from Professor Montgomery. “But this is for tonight only! I have you for only four sittings and tonight is a shortened class due to first day bullshit! Tomorrow I expect you to be prepared from the moment the class arrives.”

Mr. Malcolm nodded tersely. He kept his head down as he approached the stage and settled himself on the wicker chair, which creaked with his weight.

“Mr. Malcolm will sit in this position for ten minutes, before adjusting to a different pose in a different direction.There will be five different poses, each lasting ten minutes tonight. Typically we do twelve fifteen minutes poses, but tonight we shall adjust! Please capture as much as possible given the circumstances. I want your drawings labeled per pose, with your name on it, and date at the end of the class. Other students use these pads so please try not to be heavy handed. You may begin!”

From my angle all I could see was the bulky collar, the top of his shoulder blades and his shoulder-length curly red hair. I tried to capture the way his shoulders fit the robe and disappeared behind the wicker chair. However, when I looked at the drawing the paper reflected back a mass of scribbles that no matter what way you looked at it, you could not tell what it was meant to be.

I huffed out a breath and tried again, this time focusing on his hair. Again the spirals on the page no more reflected the coils of Mr. Malcolm’s hair than it did the curve of his shoulder. Our time started to dwindle down on this first pose, Professor Montgomery began to adjust a small space heater to point towards the stage. I noticed the model’s shoulders tense and his arm begin to shake.

“Stop! Readjust!”

Mr. Malcolm stood and took a deep breath before untying the front of his robe. The fabric swung to his sides. He turned and began to sit on a block directly in front of me, I finally caught a glimpse of the man I was supposed to study. His muscles were well defined, smattered with freckles and curls of fair blonde and red hairs. They made a trail that lead to a patch of even thicker curls that surrounded, while flaccid, still a very impressive penis. My clinical mind took over, examining his every muscle and curve. The way the skin was stretch taught in areas, and bulged in others. I wondered what activities he must do to maintain the way he looked. Even sitting there wasn’t a roll or wrinkle of fat. His body was the perfect biology project.

“Stop! Readjust!”

I jolted from the sudden exclamation. Looking at my easel, I realized I hadn’t sketched a single line. I had to shake myself out of this. He was just a man. A very well defined, attractive man, but still just a man. Think of him as a patient and this is how you’re to figure out what’s wrong with him! Get your head on the assignment, Beauchamp!

Three more positions followed and with each one Mr. Malcolm slowly became more and more unclothed until finally the robe was laying across the floor out of his reach. My temper rose with each minute. This man was most likely being paid for this, but still he was being put on display in front of complete strangers who are meant to analyze his every feature. I could not understand why he was putting himself through this torture, he was clearly not comfortable no matter how long the class went on and I couldn’t blame him. Not only was he being exploited but the amount of females in the class started to overwhelm even me. These girls shouldn’t be allowed to look at him this way! He wasn’t theirs to oogle and treat like a piece of meat! He’s not yours either, a small voice reminded me. Yet, he felt like he was mine. I felt the need to cover him up and hide his body from sight, to protect him and comfort him….

My internal rant lead to the rapid end of class. I didn’t even hear the final instructions nor did I care I only had two of the required five drawings. I signed, dated, and numbered them before tearing the sheet off of the pad and handing it in. Mr. Malcolm had already disappeared from sight. Slowly I returned my supplies and stared at the door he had appeared from at the start of class. Tomorrow then, I thought and hitched my bag over my shoulder just as the side door squeaked open. The lights were dimmed even further than before and I could just catch the glint of his red hair as he darted out of the classroom.

“There’s the nudest!” A bellowing, familiar, laugh sounded.

“Shut it Ian, or I’ll make ye!”

“Och, come off it Jamie! Ye ken I’m just pullin yer leg! How was it? Did your cock come out to play and make the lassies faint with desire?” The sarcastic tone was cut off by a loud thump. I slipped through the door in time to see none other than Ian Murray rubbing his jaw from where Mr. Malcolm, or Jamie, had hit him. Ian merely laughed more.

“Are ye tellin me there wasn’t a single thing good to come from that class?” Ian’s tone was similar to that of his fiancee’s, sneaky and up to something.

“Nay!” Jamie roared as they made their way to the elevators. “I canna believe ye and my sister dared me and not only dared, but forced me to do this after losing a bet! There isn’t enough money in the world to make me want to come back tomorrow night! It’s definitely not worth the sixty pounds they’re paying me!”

Ian had his arm around Jamie’s shoulder as the two of them entered the elevator. As Jamie/Mr. Malcolm turned around we made eye contact, maybe the first of the night, but his eyes went wide. He was saying something to Ian but I couldn’t hear nor make it out as the doors shut and I was left alone on the abandoned art floor.

10

2.13 ║2.11  “Red Jamie won’t get far, but… but you. I can save you, and I will.” 

I’m a dead man already, so I choose the battlefield. No. Then I will stay here with you. No, no, you won’t. At the witch trial, if I’d have gone to the stake with Geillis, would you have left me? Left you? I would have gone to the stake with you, to hell and beyond, if it had gone to that, but I wasn’t carrying your child. You can’t know that. It’s much too soon. It…

6

25 Days of Outlander - Day 4 / Favourite Line Directly from the Book 
‘I will find you,’ he whispered in my ear. ‘I promise. If I must endure two hundred years of purgatory, two hundred years without you – then that is my punishment, which I have earned for my crimes. For I have lied, and killed, and stolen; betrayed and broken trust. But there is the one thing that shall lie in the balance. When I shall stand before God, I shall have one thing to say, to weigh against the rest.’
      His voice dropped, nearly to a whisper, and his arms tightened around me.
      ‘Lord, ye gave me a rare woman, and God! I loved her well.’
(Timor Mortis Conturbat Me, Dragonfly in Amber)