OMG!!!!! Today's post was incredible!!! PLEASE MORE MORE MORE MORE MORE!!! I'm so heartbroken I need to know more about Claire in the future. We never get to see these moments in the books because it flashes to that stupid time 20yrs later. Please continue it. Claire needs happiness.
Claire jolted awake, the force of the dream knocking her sideways as she clutched her chest and gulped in a much needed breath. She’d fallen asleep in the uncomfortable leather chair again. She’d tisked when Frank bought the damn thing, hating the very sight of it from the off. She pushed herself up, clicking the joints in her spine as she went, eager to be free of her dreams.
They’d landed in Boston three months earlier, Frank had found them a suitable house and had furnished it all within days. She’d had no say in the matter, not that she was present enough these days to make any objections. Claire had found herself an OBGYN who’d immediately put her on bed-rest after she’d told her of her issues with Faith. Now she simply sat in the house, slept, ate and merely existed. She was lost and more than a little lonely.
She’d attested her discomfort to that alone, assuming the large amount of time she spent by herself was slowly affecting her sleep. The visions had started just as she’d begun to show, the little bursts within her now growing more powerful as the baby grew. Now, at a little over five months, she’d finally started to feel actual movement. A great chasm opened in her heart as she rubbed her belly, remembering the first time Jamie had felt Faith kick, remembering the words he’d spoken to her. Tears welled in her eyes as she tried to hold them back.
It was no use, seeing him in her dreams had dredged up the memory of him and his loss burned within her, a searing hole that seemed to gape and grow no matter what she did. It was days like these when she’d find her way into the study, riffle through the overfilled desk and pull out the ‘wanted’ poster she’d taken from Reverend Wakefield’s spare room. Sitting on the floor she’d stroke the rough lines, wishing more than anything that he was here with her or that she were back at Lallybroch with him.
The baby chose that moment to kick, a strong pulse within her, almost as if she could sense Claire’s distress. She sighed and wrapped her arms around her belly, rubbing her fingers over and over her sensitive skin.
“I’ve promised that I won’t talk about him to you, that Frank would be your daddy, but I hate it. I hate that I can’t tell you who he was. I know it’s for the best, at least I thought it was before. But now I can’t seem to stop thinking about him. He’s haunting me – Christ, I’m going mad!” She pushed herself up, dusting bits of fluff from her dressing gown before pacing the small room.
The last vestiges of daylight were filtering through the small slits in the blinds, making the dust motes almost sparkle as they fluttered in front of her eyes. She should be grateful of the safety the twentieth century afforded her, but she wasn’t.
Finally she locked the pictures away once more, slamming the draw and locking it, determined to shake it off. She’d promised after all.
Days turned into weeks and the inner-peace Claire was seeking never came, she often found herself sitting by the locked draw, aching to open it but not allowing herself to do so. The idea of a whole new start hadn’t worked, they’d travelled far away from Scotland and its memories, but they’d followed her. She couldn’t sleep without seeing him. She’d promised she wasn’t going to live with a ghost of a man, but every night she revelled in it. She stopped fighting it and longed for the night when he would show himself to her once more.
Frank had left a few days earlier, off on another one of his lecture tours. He’d invited her to tag along but she’d been so relieved that she’d get some time alone that she had rejected him, stating that it wouldn’t be good for the baby. He’d had to agree, and had made her promise that she’d rest. That wouldn’t be an issue, she’d thought grimly, all she did these days was rest.
The moment she’d had the bed to herself she’d begun to dream more deeply, she’d become almost immersed in her dream-world. On intense days she’d wake in other rooms of the house, occasionally surrounded by Frank’s books as if she’d been searching for Jamie in her sleep. She couldn’t shake it.
She’d been walking through the open Scottish fields, small fires were lit all over the place, Lallybroch stood strong in the background. The smell of death and destruction surrounded her. He was there, as he always was, stood on the brow of a nearby hill, sorrow in his eyes as he surveyed what had become of his lands. Claire’s hands shook, she wanted so badly to kiss away the pain she saw etched into the harsh lines of his face, but she couldn’t get her legs to work.
Calling out she tried to get his attention, but her cries went unanswered, almost as if he couldn’t hear her. Finally his eyes caught hers, she could see the hope light behind the bright blue iris’, she was sure her gaze mirrored his. He smiled, a small thing that eased some of the lines around his eyes. His lips moved, but no sound came. She watched, intent on his mouth, hoping to decipher his words.
“Find…me…” He said, clearly this time, as if he were stood right next to her. She cried out, her vision of him fading before her eyes as she called back, “…always…”