You read that right. 15.1. This was another hella long chapter, that was just as magnificent as the rest. @outlandishchridhe finally had a little time so we plotted this one out. It won’t be as long as 14, but we’re getting close to the Due Date. @widchadidcha, no more complaining. And stop trying to recruit my cats!
It’ll be below a cut because it’s still a bit lengthy. Let me know if you can’t read it and I’ll see what I can do.
for shifted could we please get jamie and claire fluff while she's pregnant?! (idk why but this is my favorite thing)
Shifted prompt! How about Jamie getting a gift for Claire and being
worried/shy about what she’ll think of it when he gives it to her.
Something sweet and sentimental, of course!
For the next few weeks I’ll be writing one-shots in the Shifted
universe, filling in the blanks that we don’t see in the main story,
before we resume the main action with Part 7 - The Visitor.
If there is a particular scene you’d like to see, send me an ask and I’ll see what I can do!
In Shifted, the premise is simple - what if Claire had gotten pregnant with
Brianna a month or two earlier in the story, and she and Jamie had
re-evaluated their priorities and decided that the cause was lost, and
they were able to slip away from the army and quietly return to
Jamie could hear her dreaming. The nightmares had
returned again – growing in intensity as their new bairn grew within her belly.
Sometimes it was the dream he had sent her back to Frank
– the same dream that had troubled her so when Brianna was a newborn.
Sometimes it was dreams of walking on a dark, quiet
Culloden Moor, wading through the bodies of fallen Highlanders – and then
finding him cold and dead.
And sometimes it was a dream full of redcoats – burning
the house, taking Brianna away, throwing
Jamie into prison. Taking away everything she held dear.
He couldn’t tell what it was tonight – only that she
would wake soon, and that she would need him to hold her, to listen to her, to
The temperature had dipped significantly in the past week
– and no amount of extra wood added to the fire could heat the room to his
satisfaction. Brianna was like him – impervious to the cold – and only relented
to sleeping in the same bed as two of her cousins after receiving orders from
her parents and Murtagh to do so.
Claire, on the other hand – her fine skin was exquisitely
sensitive, now that she carried the bairn.
In the circle of his arms, he felt her swallow – limbs tightening
as she awoke.
“Ssshh,” he whispered. “I’m here. Ye were dreaming
Slowly, slowly she rolled to face him – pressing the
bulge of her belly against him.
“Can you light the candle, please?” Her voice was raw,
rough, two hundred years away. “I need – I need to see you.”
Swiftly he kissed her forehead and turned on his side,
striking one of the clever matches Claire had made and then coaxing the small
flame to life.
He settled back against the pillow, meeting her tired
eyes, pulling the quilt closer around her shoulders.
“I shouldn’t have had that extra helping of mincemeat –
my stomach has been rolling all night.” Her whisky eyes glowed like a cat’s in
“Ach – it’s only Hogmanay once a year,” he smiled,
stroking her cheek with the back of his knuckles. “Ye’re entitled to celebrate
a bit. Lord knows we have plenty to be happy about in the new year.”
“I feel terrible that I didn’t even make it to midnight.
Some Fraser I am.”
“Then we have something to look forward to next time when
ye can hold our newest Fraser in yer arms to greet the new year.” He bopped the
tip of her nose with his thumb – eliciting the smile he craved.
The bairn moved against his belly.
His mother’s rosebush scratched against the window.
“Hold still,” he murmured – fixing the moment in his memory.
She humored him – eyes locked. Sharing.
He smiled then – so wide – and softly pulled back the
quilt, careful to keep her tightly wrapped up against the chill.
“Jamie? What – ”
He padded over to the fire, added a log, and then stooped
to rummage through the trunk against the far wall.
“It should be past midnight by now. I have something for
“Are ye saying ye dinna want a gift from yer husband?”
His voice was muffled – teasing.
She sat up against the headboard, hands spanning her
belly, soothing their now quite active bairn.
“He’s awake, too,” she murmured, meeting Jamie’s eyes as
he returned to bed. Smiling.
The feather mattress dipped beside her, and Jamie held
out one clenched fist.
“Give me yer hand, Sassenach.”
She lay her right hand – palm up – on the mattress. And
then felt a small bit of metal – warmed from Jamie’s hand – slide against her
Curious, she brought it closer to her eyes, squinting in
“Do ye need spectacles in yer auld age?” he whispered.
She ignored him – studying the worn but beautifully made
Silver – a bit tarnished – and old, but clearly
well-made. Circular – shaped like a wreath – with carefully incised flowers and
leaves. Stylized – figural and yet abstract. The work of a master craftsman.
“Jamie – I – ”
“It was my Da’s,” he whispered, reaching one tentative
finger to trace the smooth surface. “Mam gave it to him as a wedding gift – she
took it from her own father’s bedroom, at Leoch. My grandfather had had it made
in Edinburgh, you see – and Mam didna think he would miss it.”
He so rarely spoke of Ellen Fraser – or the family she
had so scandalously left behind – that Claire bit back her questions.
“When Mam met Da – it’s true they ran off together, that
night. But Mam was practical – she kent weel that she’d have to bring some
things wi’ her. So she had Murtagh help her prepare – he helped her gather a
wee bag of her possessions, because she also kent that she would never go back
Jamie lifted his eyes to meet Claire’s startled gaze. “Oh,
aye. He helped her escape wi’ my Da.”
Tears suddenly sprang to Claire’s eyes. “For he loved her
so much that he helped her sneak away with the man she chose.”
Jamie bent to kiss her cheek. “Aye. And then followed
behind, to witness their handfasting. Have I never told ye that before?”
She shook her head – but that was a story for another
time. “But how does this brooch fit in to the story?”
“Mam was busy packing her personal things – but she
realized she didna have anything to offer Da. So she asked Murtagh to find
something of her own father’s to give him.”
“How in the hell did he get into the Laird’s chamber? I
remember there were always men hanging about Colum’s room – ”
“Weel, in the auld days, they werena so careful – or else
they wouldna have let their prized daughter sneak away wi’ a selkie, now, would
She shook her head, amazed. “So Murtagh chose this?”
“Aye, he did. He knew my grandfather was wearing his best
brooch, with his plaid that night – so he picked the second best. And that’s
what Mam gave Da on their wedding night.”
“I guess I could make a joke about second best – ”
“Mam always did. But Da was just honored to have it. He
wore it wi’ his plaid every day when I was growing up. And now I want our son
to have it.”
Jamie splayed his hand over her belly – fingers tangling
with hers – delighting in their bairn’s acrobatics.
“You’re so sure it’s a boy?”
His fingers tightened in hers. “Aye. Ye are, too – so is
Brianna. And Jenny. And Mrs. Crook.”
Claire theatrically rolled her eyes. “Well then. That
*must* mean it is so, if so many Frasers are convinced.”
He pursed his lips, and swallowed. Thinking.
“I ken the lad will never be able to wear his plaid out
in the open – at least not while he’s a bairn, anyway. But I want him to learn
our traditions – learn the way things were. The way they should be.”
His eyes lighted on the floorboard under which they had
so lovingly stored their Fraser plaids in the dark days after passage of the
“The way it will be again, Jamie.”
His lips twisted in a wry half-smile. “Aye. Ye’d ken that
now, wouldn’t ye?”
Gently she lay the brooch on her bedside table, and
opened her arms.
He came, and rested so closely beside her – tangling his
legs in hers.
“Thank you,” she whispered after a long while. “I want
him to be raised as a true Fraser – in your own image, and with the memory of
his grandparents. Surrounded by love and family.”
He burrowed his face in her neck – inhaled the hair at
the base of her skull.
“I love you,” he whispered.
She held him close – as she would the baby, when it came.
“You are the breath in my body – my blood – my bone.”
She kissed the crown of his head.
“In this child – and in Brianna, Jamie – we are united.
We will live forever now, you and I. And your parents – and my parents – they continue.”
He shifted against her, burying his face under her chin.
“I need you.” His voice shyly vibrated against her
sensitive skin – so soft she felt it more than heard it.
She undid the neck
of her shift, and he opened the laces, and they softly, sweetly celebrated one
more year together.
I'm reading my Outlandish Companion Vol 1 right now and Diana just mentioned telling Ron about why the forget me nots are at the stones and why the ghost was there and mentioned we'd find out later like we already knew. Do you think we'll find out why the forget me nots are the flower at the stones in the last book just like how we'll be finding out about Jamies ghost seen in first book. I so want to know why his ghost was there but at same time i'm like do I want to know. LOL.
Hi Anon! Both the forget-me-nots and Jamie’s ghost seem to tie in to the endless loop theory. When we see Jamie’s ghost it’s when he’s being “pulled” to Claire. There’s not really a clear explanation of when that time is, that might be something Diana reveals in a later story, but it’s my belief that this is when he’s laying on the battlefield at Culoden and going between life and death. At that time he is recently parted from Claire and it’s believable that his spirit would be searching for her.
The forget-me-nots are an interesting piece. They really are what brings Claire to Jamie. She is going to investigate the flowers and attempt to identify them when she travels through the stones. There has been speculation about who planted the flowers, Jamie or maybe even Brianna. I don’t think it’ll be Claire, but hopefully that will be one of the story points that Diana clarifies and brings a sense of conclusion to.
I also appreciate how Diana seems to research flowers and the meaning behind each. I found this about the meaning of forget-me-nots and thought it highlighted their importance in Jamie and Claire’s relationship.
Forget-Me-Not plants symbolize true love. The forget-me-not flowers are a medium, “true blue”. And as the name suggests, they are given or used to decorate gifts with the hope the recipient will not forget the giver. It also symbolizes faithful love and memories. x
Ian woke up the morning of December 27th around 4:45 AM, feeling rather warm–but not hotter than usual.
5:00 AM: He stepped into the shower, quickly rubbed a bar of soap over his body before shampooing his hair and jumping right back out again.
5:15 AM: After changing into his clothes, he ran down the staircase, brushing his teeth. He reached for a banana on the counter.
5:18 AM: His uncle rounded the corner from the study, looking intently at his nephew as he attempted to brush his teeth and eat at the same time.
“What in God’s name are ye doing, man?” He implored of his nephew, setting his newspaper down on the counter and leaning against it, eyebrows raised.
Ian looked from his toothbrush in one hand to the banana in the other, thinking of a proper way of explaining himself. He shrugged slightly, with a sheepish grin on his face. “Killin’ two birds with one stone?”
Jamie shook his head, a smile gracing his lips.
5:23 AM: Ian bid farewell to his uncle, and went to head out the door. Jamie stopped him, however, as soon as he hit the doorframe.
“Ian, the back of yer shirt is drenched.”
“Well,” Ian replied, “I did take a shower, Uncle.”
“I ken that, ye dolt. I mean that ye’re sweating, wi’ it bein’ freezing outside.” Jamie shook his head, then gestured his hand towards himself. “Come ‘ere, then.”
Ian, rolling his eyes slightly, and, shoulders slouched, walked towards his uncle. Jamie put the back of his hand against his nephew’s forehead, pursed his lips tightly before instructing the young lad to cough.
The boy did as he was bid, and a bunch of mucus seemed to jump from his lungs to his throat. The sound was thick and disgusting, and Jamie rose his eyebrows at his nephew.
“Looks like ye’re not going to work today, after all,” Jamie smiled, then pushed his nephew lightly on the shoulder towards the staircase. “Back to bed wi’ ye. Make sure you tell yer mother I told you to stay here.”
“Alright,” Ian agreed. He took a step forward but then turned back to his uncle, eyes wide. “What about Geordie?”
“Dinna worry about that, lad,” Jamie smiled. “I’ll take care o’ yer route for you.”
Nodding, Ian turned back to the staircase and took them two at a time, a wide smile on his lips as he went back to his room. Little did his uncle know that Ian was not sick, and just had taken a very hot shower.
And thank God for allergies, he thought to himself as he curled up in his bed, ecstatic at the idea of being able to sleep in.
Despite several attempts to get himself on his nephew’s bike, Jamie instead opted to drive his truck around the suburban neighborhoods of Boone, throwing the papers out the window as he passed. He was able to finish the route in just under an hour, which was much different than poor Ian Murray Jr.’s two-and-a-half-hour biking escapade.
When he pulled into the small subdivision of Simon’s Landing, his heart started to pound. Not from nerves–of course not from nerves–but just from the sheer knowledge of her presence.
He had tried, multiple times, to pick up the phone book and search for her phone number, skimming the yellow pages for Beauchamp, C. And amongst the Lambert’s and John’s and Harrison’s, his finger had hit that inked letter C–with the eight digits following–and he would slam the book closed. Both of the Ian’s had chastised him multiple times over the matter, and even his sister joined in the proceedings once or twice.
“Ask her on a date, ye clotheid,” she frustratedly muttered to her brother over breakfast one morning. “If you dinna want to do it, then I will do it for ye.”
The opportunity had presented itself to him this morning with Ian’s sickness. Whether this was a sign from God or not, he didn’t know. But he took it graciously, and asked Him not to let him screw this up.
With his nerves clogging up his throat, to the point he was almost suffocating, he walked up the few steps to her porch and approached her door. He rang the doorbell once and heard the shrill ring of it echo through the house. Rocking back and forth on his heels, he shoved his hands in his pockets, the newspaper squeezed between his arm and his side.
Every second that passed seemed like years. Each new breath that he exhaled came out in faster waves as his heartbeat increased, the cold morning air causing them to form into mist in front of him. Getting slightly impatient–and worried that she wasn’t inside–he looked through one of the front windows of her porch in search of her.
As soon as he did this, however, the door swung open and there she was.
“Good morning, Mr. Fraser,” she greeted, a warm smile on her face as she pulled her cardigan closer to her body against the brisk morning chill. She looked from his face to the newspaper in his arm and nodded at it. “Is that for me?”
Flustered, he fumbled with the paper in his hands and thrust it forward, unattractively and clumsily, at her face. “Aye, I–uh–yes, this is yours.”
The smile on her face grew ever wider, showing all of her beautiful white teeth. She stepped to the side and opened the door just a tad wider, inviting him to come inside. Still discomfited, he nodded once and came inside, allowing the warmth to envelope him in a blanket of comfort.
“Would you like some coffee? I just made a pot,” she inquired, gesturing to the kitchen where the coffee pot sat in his view. Shaking his head, but thanking her nonetheless, he watched her walk out of the entryway and into the brightly colored room. A moment passed before she turned towards him, a sheepish smile on her lips as she filled up a mug. “You can come in here, you know.”
He took a step, then realized that his boots were wet from the snow outside. Grimacing, he called to her as he went to place his shoes outside, “I’ll take my shoes off outside, so as to not ruin your floors.”
She waved a hand in dismissal, but he didn’t see it. He popped off his boots in front of the door and stepped back inside in his woolen socks.
“So, where’s your nephew this morning?” Claire asked as he stepped into the kitchen, eyebrows raised as she took a sip of her coffee. He committed her drink of choice to memory: Black, no sugar, no creamer.
“He’s at home sick. He woke up wi’ a fever this morning.”
A concerned look crossed over her face as she set down her cup and crossed her arms over her chest. “What were his other symptoms?”
Jamie shrugged, “I’m no’ one to ken exactly what to look for when someone is sick, but he was sweatin’ a lot; his whole shirt was soaked through. His head was hot to the touch and when I asked him to cough, ‘twas the most disgusting thing I’d ever heard.”
Her fingers tapped on her arm in thought before she asked, “Had he taken a shower this morning?”
“Aye,” He replied, eyebrows shrunk together in confusion as she chuckled lightly. “Why?”
She pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. The look that she was giving him made him nervous, which caused him to voice a nervous, “What?”
“Well…” She tried to suppress laughter as she took another sip of her coffee. “I do believe that you have been played a fool.”
Jamie, flabbergasted, left out a huff of agitation. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Since I haven’t seen him, I can’t say that I’m entirely right, but I do believe that he has nothing more than a small case of allergies.”
Getting rather annoyed, he crossed his arms and stared at her crossly. “And how do you know that, just from the wee bit of information that I’ve shared wi’ ye?”
She was trying so hard to keep her smile contained from behind the rim of her coffee cup. “Because I’m a pediatrician, Mr. Fraser. It’s my job.”
If he thought he was embarrassed before, he was downright mortified. His face flushed and words seemed to die in his throat; not a single one of the apologies he could think of were enough to excuse his error. There was nothing he wanted to do more than to kneel at her feet and beg for mercy.
As much as he thought she was mad at him, though, he could see that it was much the opposite. She seemed amused at his tongue-tied state, Damn her, and the smirk on her lips proved it.
Scrambling to find a way to make it up to her, he stammered out, “Can I take ye to dinner?”
A cringe formed on his face as he watched her eyes widen then return to their normal size, but the smile didn’t leave her face. Before she could answer, he went to explain himself, the words spilling out of his mouth in a long stream of word vomit. “I mean, not that I like ye more now that I know that ye’re a doctor. My opinion has really been the same since I first met ye, it’s just that–”
“I would love to go to dinner,” she interrupted, setting her coffee mug down on the counter. She turned from his shocked face to her refrigerator, where a small calendar rested to mark her schedule. He watched as she pulled a marker from the holder and went to find a day she had off, her slender finger pointing to the 31st. “What are your plans for New Year’s Eve, Mr. Fraser?”
Shifting from foot to foot, he shrugged. “Nothin’ much, I dinna think. I don’t start workin’ again until the New Year.”
“I work in the morning, but maybe we can do something that night,” she started to write his name down as Mr. Fraser but stopped short. She turned sheepishly to him and murmured, “I suppose since we know each other well enough now, we could know each other by our first names, right, Jamie?”
Jamie nodded with a smile, savoring the sound of his name on her lips. “I suppose so, Claire.”
A humourous, touching tribute to our favourite show’s second season! Thank you to the cast, crew and Diana for providing us fans with these fantastic moments! Credit for this awesome things goes as always to my talented sis Julia LeBlanc. ( @moduinne-and-redjamie ) Credit for content goes to Starz. Subscribe for more #Outlander vids once, sometimes twice a week!
His extreme gentleness was in no way tentative; rather it was a promise of power known and held in leash; a challenge and a provocation the more remarkable for its lack of demand. I am yours, it said. And if you will have me, then…