mine: sashay

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Sasha Pieterse and Shay Mitchell attend the Warner Bros. Studio Tour Hollywood Launches Special Exhibit Celebrating Final Season Of ‘Pretty Little Liars’ at Warner Bros. Studios on June 14, 2017 in Burbank, California.

anonymous asked:

Jenny and the Ghost: She is able to stay in the church, but Jamie is not able to continue with the wedding (Claire is too strong), even for Laoghaire´s girls sake´s. I would like to read the confrontation/argue between Jamie and Jenny about his denial. „I was, I am and I ALWAYS will be Claire´s and no one else!“

Pacing through the thin branches of the thicket to the left of the kirk, Jamie ran his sweaty hands through his cropped locked, his heart pounding in time with his feet as he tried to shake that irrepressible feeling.

She had been there, Claire, her ghost hovering by his side as he’d entered the church, ready to take his vows to Laoghaire. Ashamed of his fugue like state, the same one that had led him here, he tried desperately to rid himself of the vision.

He *should* go back in there. He *should* fulfil the promise he’d made to his sister. To Marsali and Joan. But he couldn’t.

Somewhere, still, Claire lingered, the presence of her clouding his already fractured judgement.

“I canna believe you, James Fraser!” Jenny huffed, her harsh whisper cutting through the silence and pulling Jamie from his internal fumblings. “You canna–” she continued, her cheeks flushing red in anger as Jamie cut her off mid flow, a simple rise of the hand towards her face as he turn on his heel towards her.

“Dinna tell me what I can and canna do Janet Fraser!” He spat back, his own ire increasing at the -not so subtle- intonation of his sisters’ furor. “This is wrong and I willna do it, no’ for you and no’ for Laoghaire.”

“Why?” Jenny returned, stomping her foot in the detritus and placing her hands angrily on her hips. Her eyes were trained on Jamie, unyielding and unforgiving as she challenged his logic. Never one to back down, she was readied for battle, ready to win. Whatever the cost.

“Because of–”

Now it was Jenny’s turn to interrupt, her vision narrowing as she sensed the next words to fall from his lips, “…and dinna ye dare say her name, Jamie. I’ve lived wi’ you these years, I’ve seen what’s become of you in the aftermath of that horrid battle. The scars you’ve acquired that arena visible to human eyes…she…is…gone!”

Jamie’s fists clenched as the words pummelled his chest as if she’d thrown rocks directly at him. But something in her voice wavered, and in that moment Jamie kent that she’d felt something too. Something that had shaken her very own confidence in the marital proceedings she’d pushed so hard for.

“Ye saw her…you did,” he accused, seeing a flickered behind her eyes as she tried to hide whatever she’d been privy to from him. “Tell me, Jenny. And be honest now.”

His words left no room for argument and Jenny dropped her hands from her hips in acquiescence.

“Aye. I did…see her I mean.”

“Dhia,” Jamie cursed, the breath leaving his lungs in one swift gasp.

“Stood by ye in the aisle,” Jenny continued, unable to stop now she’d begun. “In a wee off-cream gown wi’ leaves on.”

“Her wedding gown,” Jamie clarified, certain now that his decision to flee had been the correct one. “She’s it for me, Jenny.” He said, his words ringing out clearly in the desolate forest surrounding them both. “It doesna matter that she’s gone, that she isna coming back and that I have to live by myself wi’ that knowledge. None of it matters because she was mine…is mine.”

Sashaying forwards, her dress catching some of the dead leaf mulch at her feet, Jenny walked towards Jamie and placed her solid warm one of his large clammy one. “Jamie, I’ll ask ye one last time to reconsider. Ye dinna have to be alone.”

“No.” He replied, his confirmation disappointing Jenny, but there was no more room for argument. “Da lived out his days wi’out mam. She was his only just as much as Claire is mine, Janet. Do ye ken that?”

“Aye,” Jenny whispered, her tone airy and light as she twined her palm with Jamie’s now, their thumbs meeting awkwardly as their pulses thrummed against one another soundlessly.

“Would ye consider anyone else if ye lost Ian?”

“I…” Jenny began, contemplating a lie and then dismissing it just as quickly, “no. I dinna think I would.”

Nodding, Jamie pulled his well-meaning sister into a hug, his arms wrapping around her waist as he sighed deeply.

Pushing herself away only a moment later, Jenny chuckled lowly as she wiped fresh tears from her eyes. “I guess I’d better go and break the bad news to her, aye?”

Dipping his head in apology, Jamie nodded, his eyes focused on his feet as he crossed his arms and burrowed his hands under his armpits, trying – in vain – to keep the anguish of Claire’s sudden memory at bay.

“Better make yerself scarce lad, ye dinna want to be close by when I do, ken?”

Parting ways, Jamie skittered off into the forest, his keen senses detecting the way to home, and to safety. In the distance, as he rounded the last of the dense underbrush, a piercing wail echoed through the highlands, Laoghaire’s feral anger chasing the birds from the trees even as far as the edges of the woods. Clenching his eyes shut, Jamie buried deep the feelings of regret as he took the reins of his horse from the pommel where he’d been tied only hours before, hoisted himself up and rode off towards Edinburgh, far away from Laoghaire’s painful wrath.

– — –

Closing the book, Claire placed her hands into her lap to still the shaking. Her heart, beating as it was, seemed to be pounding at the base of her throat, trying to make a bid for freedom as the words jumped and danced before her eyes.

Alive.

Alive and so very nearly…

“Mom…” Bree clicked her fingers impatiently in front of Claire’s eyes, her voice cracking on the one word as she tried to bring her mother back into the present, “did you find it? The story?”

“N-no,” she answered, her eyes suddenly re-focusing on Brianna’s, her whisky irises trained on those vibrant blue ones. Fraser eyes. “No, darling. Sorry. I didn’t. But I’ll keep looking, promise.”

Smiling shakily, Claire placed her hand on Bree’s cheek as he daughter returned her tentative smile, nodded and left the study.

The pages of the forgotten letter had been placed haphazardly between the pages of an old storybook. Frank had obviously been in some sort of rush when hiding Reverend Wakefield’s correspondence to him and it had since been abandoned. Left for anyone to find.

“Jesus. H. Roosevelt. Christ,” she cursed, her foot tapping nervously against the plush carpet that lined the busy study.

How many times had she felt him by her side? How many times had his ghost appeared to her? And now, it seemed –though could an ancient folk tale be believe, she wondered rather belatedly– he’d had similar visions of her as well.

If what she’d read was true she only had one option. He’d waited for her, Jamie, he had declined to wed, abandoned his *duty* to that foul witch in favour of withering away on his own. But he *was* alive…

“I love you, Jamie,” Claire sighed, her eyes watering at the prospect of her next almost-silent confession. “I-I have to go back.”

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