Fanfiction - Anamnesis
I started this as a little present for lovely @iwanttodriveyouthroughthenight‘s Tumblrversary.
The seamstress master @outlanderedandoverhere also
blackmailed enticed me, saying that a
continuation would inspire her to finish the raven dress. And she did – and I do!
This story started with Cassiopeia (Constellations series) and is preceded by
The Captain. So grateful for such an amazing feedback on the College AU! See you on
the other side with much much love <3
Jamie sorted through the small squares made of blue cardboard and gave her an evil smile.
“Fever, jaundice and right upper quadrant pain.” She replied without hesitation, giving him a smug smile. “You’ll have to do much worse if you want to get me.”
“Well then.” He shuffled through the cards and gave her a victorious glare when he found a suitable one. “Differential diagnosis of fever of unknown origin. All.of.them.”
“Now you’re just being mean.” She sighed and threw herself in listing numerous diseases with gruelling enough names to make one feel very sick indeed.
“…Amebiasis, Bartonellosis, Brucellosis, Malaria, Catscratch disease.” Claire gave him a hesitant look. “How many am I missing?”
“Just about a couple of hundred.” He offered her the card with a smile. “I consider myself avenged after you quizzed me on the Odyssey. I’ll have nightmares with that for years to come – ye’re fairly harder on me than Mr. Rice, the actual teacher.”
“I like being thorough.” She replied tersely, neatly stacking her flashcards on the library’s mahogany table.
“Aye.” He gave her a sweet smile. “And that’s why you’ll be the best doctor in the world. I wouldn’t have you any other way.”
“Hmpf.” Claire grumbled, but she surrendered to a warm grin, while he kissed her kuckles. “I’m just worried. I’ll have a practical test this week with Doctor Potter – yes, the “male chauvinist pig”; I was a little sloshed that night! – That will count for thirty percent of my grade this semester. I need to get it right.”
“Ye will, mo nighean donn.” Jamie lightly caressed her cheek. “I have nay doubt about it.” And he kissed her eager lips.
“Mister Fraser,” The librarian, a small but commanding woman called Mrs. Fitz, hissed above their heads. “As much as I admire you, do I really need to remind you that you are in a library?” And striking them with an admonishing look, she roared. “No kissing!”
“I am sorry, Mrs. Fitz.” Jamie presented the middle-aged woman with a guilty and humbled look, capable of melting the stoniest heart. “But this woman makes me forget all sense of propriety.”
Claire gave him a narrow look.
“I remember how it was – being young and in love.” For a moment her eyes lost focus, her mind wandering into a land of dreams and memories. “But,” She snapped out of it. “That doesn’t allow for debauchery in this study place. Keep your tongue inside your mouth in my library!” And she moved to warn a couple of students nearby to lower their voices while talking.
“Nice move.” Claire applauded, laughing. “You almost had her. What?” She asked, noticing his look had suffered a transformation alike Mrs. Fitz’s.
“I was just wondering…” He said softly, giving her a dark and disarming glare that made her blood boil instantly, her knees weakening – luckily she was already sitting. “The potential of these enormous and verra strong tables. That plump…” He smiled with mischief. “Gluteus maximus leaning on it.”
Claire licked her lips, suddenly very dry.
“That thought just occurred to you?” She said amiably.
“Nay.” He grinned. “Actually it was a recurrent thought back then – when I admired ye from afar. I liked to watch ye – thinking, biting your lip in concentration; smiling to yourself when ye realized ye had it figured out; writing with your free hand placed in a slightly crocked way on the paper. I was content with knowing the wee mechanisms of ye.” He gave her a shy look. “But sometimes in the summer time ye’d come with a floral dress, yer naked legs all visible under the table; the curve of yer shoulders showing, so tempting. In those times I had thoughts of a….baser nature.”
They had been together for almost a month at that point – and Jamie had been nothing short of chivalrous during that time. After that first night they had slept together in his room, they had seldom find opportunity to share a bed again – and in those rare occasions they would kiss, teasingly caress the exposed skin and talk to each other in seriousness or playfulness. But he had never made any attempt or suggestion that they should push their relationship beyond the already known limits. He wanted her, Claire knew. But he was holding back – and she wasn’t entirely sure why.
“Do tell me more about it.”
“Perhaps someday,” He hummed near her ear. “I’ll show ye.” And he kissed her neck, the tip of his tongue darting to taste her skin.
“Mister Fraser!” Mrs. Fitz screamed behind them.
“Miss Beauchamp, you’re to take the medical history of the patient in curtain four. He’s complaining of abdominal pain – I’ll expect you to come and discuss differential diagnosis with me in thirty minutes.”
“Yes, Doctor Potter.” She said gracefully and grabbed the chart from his hand.
As she walked in the direction of the curtain she breathed deeply, trying to find the calm centre required to practice good medicine. She gave a quick look to her white coat and identification card, making sure she was presentable – sometimes patients tended to disregard her inquiries if they didn’t think her professional or mature enough, as she clearly wasn’t a doctor yet. Claire made a mental list of questions to ask the patient – occasionally she neglected to ask about their sexual history and intestinal habits, which always drove Doctor Potter to an endless speech about the importance of a thorough anamnesis and the catastrophic outcomes expecting a “sloppy doctor”.
“Good day sir, I’m Claire Beauchamp.” She greeted while opening the curtain, her eyes fixed on the chart. “I’m here to ask you a few questions…”
“Ask away.” Jamie’s voice replied cheerfully, making her jump. She raised her eyes to watch him happily seated on the gurney, his legs bouncing like an excited child’s.
“What the hell are you doing here?” She exclaimed, attracting the looks of nearby nurses and a couple of elderly patients. Blushing, she quickly closed the blue fabric around them, shielding them from prying eyes. “James Fraser, what are you up to?”
“Och.” He extended his hand and caressed her cheek. “Ye were so concerned with doing well with this evaluation – I just wanted to help.” Jamie shrugged.
“I imagine you’re not really sick – after all those pancakes you ate this morning you seemed in good enough health.” She gave him a wry look. “What did you tell them you were feeling?”
“Cramping in my belly. Fever. Vomiting.” He gave her a naughty smile. “I was going for the appendicitis thing, ye ken.”
“Well,” Claire glared at him. “I might end up giving you a rectal exam – or worse, Doctor Potter will - and you’ll learn your lesson. Probably won’t ever meddle with my business again.”
“Ye’re not impressed with my attempt of helping ye, I gather.” Jamie raised a brow. “At least ye can be at ease asking me yer wee questions.”
“If my professor finds out you’re my boyfriend,” Claire hissed, but the corners of her mouth betrayed the temptation of smiling. “I’ll probably fail this. Eternally.”
“Is that what I am?” Jamie asked slowly, his eyes serious and intent on hers. “Your boyfriend?”
“Well,” She answered in a careful tone, biting her full bottom lip. They still hadn’t had the talk – it had seemed pointless to define their relationship with a label, when they were both perfectly aware of the depth of their mutual feelings. But alas – some things were meant to be said out loud, sooner or later. “We spend an awful lot of time snogging. You helped me make flashcards themed by colour. I watched an entire documentary on a man named Seneca, which I didn’t even knew had existed until a week ago. You grabbed a second pair of socks for me to wear the other night when we were studying, because you knew my feet would be cold and I can’t focus when I’m chilled. So I guess you must be my boyfriend.” Claire blushed slightly. “You know…If you want to.”
“So all it takes to hold yer heart is to make sure yer feet are warm?” He shook his head in feigned disbelief. “Ye really know how to make a lad feel special, aye?”
“You’re ruining it.” Claire folded her arms, squinting at him. “Say yes before I take it back, James Fraser.”
“Yes. God, yes!” Jamie grabbed her free hand, lacing their fingers together. “But I was hoping to be the one to ask, ye ken.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “I have the pride of a man, after all.”
“That you are.” She gave a quick look around and, not finding anyone peeking through the curtain’s folds, lightly kissed him on the lips. “And that you have.”
He hugged her and nuzzled her neck, humming against her with pleasure at their contact and her scent, which was always stronger there.
“Now, can you make up some answers to my questions?” Claire asked, tapping the pen on the blank paper sheet. “I’ll skip the sexual history part.” She said haltingly, her fingers fidgeting with a curl falling over her forehead. “I’m sure I can devise something to say to Doctor Potter about it…You don’t need to tell me anything…”
“Oh, Lord.” Jamie closed his eyes in mortification and covered them with his opened palms. “That wasna really how I intended to have this conversation.” He growled. “At all.”
“What?” She swallowed hard, stopping in the process of writing down the absence of any known allergies. “Look Jamie, I knew you had a past. Everybody has one. It’s fine.”
He shook his head, still not looking at her.
“Well,” Claire continued nervously. “Is it a scandalous number, then? I’m sure with your personality and looks there were plenty of girls who…”
“No.” He removed his hands and finally looked at her, blue glinting with carefulness and – mischief? -, raising his chin in defiance. “Claire, there’s nothing to talk about - there’s no one.”
“What do you mean?” She muttered, the suddenly forgotten chart bobbing on her hands.
“I mean,” He smiled coyly. “Your recently proclaimed boyfriend is a virgin.”