It happens before he can truly think about what he's doing, really.
Jamie's tired, running, sleeping in caves abandoned by animals that carry lingering scents of their dragged back kills. Wearing clothes that were rags to begin with, tattered now from living in the woods, washing blood out, beating them on rocks. His hand aches; it shouldn't anymore but maybe it's the constant cold in his bones.
He hasn't been warm since swimming back from Selkie Island, broken anew. He was given hope, La Dame Blanche, and he wanted it to be true so badly he's angry when it isn't, wants to kill an already dead man. He did find some things, gems, three sapphires, and he has them now, with nowhere to put them save clutched in his hand. That's where they stay as he sleeps, when he walks. He may as well be missing a hand for as little as he uses the right.
In the back of his mind he knows why he needs them, but it isn't until he gets to the stones that he realizes fully.
He's going to go.
He's going to try to go.
He has no more than a dirty white shirt, a full beard now since his journey as far from Ardsmuir as he could run. He's had no bath, he has no money. He has nothing but the gems and a prayer on his lips.
Claire.
For seven years he hid, for four he was a prisoner. He has no meat on his bones, everything sharp-edged and dirty. But for eleven years he's lived without her; he's not going to be an indentured servant, to spend his days in the service of the rich. And if he's found and taken he'll die before letting himself go. If he can't get to Claire, he'll go to Lallybroch once more and either live out his days or die the death he meant to have at Culloden.
Standing in front of the stones now, it's raining, dark and gray, and he finally can hear the sound Claire said was all around her. He thinks for a moment, if this is what he wants. To leave Jenny and Ian, their bairns who don't even know him anymore. Jenny will be safer. He left a letter with Murtagh, the only one who knew the truth.
I have to find Claire.
That was it, that was all; his godfather would know.
Stepping forward, Jamie remembers the last time he touched the stone, only rock then. Now it feels almost alive, and he doesn't know how he'll find her. She's English and surely she's not still in Scotland. Or is she? Did she try to stay close to a place that reminded her of him or would it be too painful? Does she have a bairn now, healthy and happy?
Did she return to Frank?
There are things that are impossible to know, but their entire lives have been exactly that - impossible - so why should this be any different? He will find her, he'll figure it out; nothing is going to keep him from her again.
When he touches the stone he lands in a clear, sunny day with a sky as blue as her eyes. On his hands and knees, he opens his fist and counts; he's gone from three to two sapphires and he knows without looking the missing gem will not be found. Slowly, he stands to his full height and steels himself for the things she told him of; paved roads, carriages that move without horses, lights but no flame. Still, Inverness is there, he can see it in the distance and it seems so familiar he wonders if he traveled in time at all.
It's made abundantly clear to him that he is indeed two-hundred years in the future when a car rounds a corner and all he can do is stare as it speeds off into the distance. Christ, she'd explained it but not well enough for him to not be so gobsmacked he simply stands for a moment staring after it, well until the lights on it fade away. But eventually, he continues and as he steps into the town proper it's unlike anything he could have fathomed. Buildings taller than he's seen before; new but somehow familiar mixed in. There isn't a kilt to be seen, the dress is...he stands out. Mostly because of how dirty he is, obviously not fitting, clearly the Sassenach now, even on the land he'd bled for.
He doesn't realize he's been approached. A priest, asking Jamie if he needs help.
"Nah," comes the instant reply until he realizes that's not entirely right. "My wife," he begins, swallowing thickly. His head feels like it might split.
"Your wife? Is she hurt? Are you?"
Again, Jamie shakes his head but the movement makes it swim. The shock, the cold he's felt for days, the hunger. It all combines in that movement, his vision coming to a pinpoint.
"Claire."
If the priest speaks again, Jamie doesn't hear it before the world goes black.
With alarm, the priest shouts for help, an ambulance arrives, and Jamie is taken to the closest hospital. It isn't long before rumors fly about a man who looked like he'd been living in the woods; maybe he was a ghost, for all he looked gaunt and pale. Rumors spread, in taverns and inns, in lines at the grocer, among ladies getting their hair colored and set.
He's been in this hospital of strange machines and wires hooked to him for three days. He hasn't said a word of who he is because he doesn't exist. People have come, told him things about his own body; hypothermia, malnourishment, dehydration. None of it matters. Police have questioned him and Jamie can only reply he doesn't know the answers to their questions. He has a newfound appreciation for the way Claire'd stayed as calm as she had in those early days.
The sapphires, he's assured, are being kept safe; a trace for missing or stolen jewelry in the area comes back empty and so at least he's deemed not to be a thief for now.
He asks every nurse about a Claire Randall, they're the only words he does say clearly. Asking if they've heard of her. No one can confirm it, and he doesn't know if that's better or worse. If he has to walk and swim and nearly die to get to her wherever she is, he'll do it.
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seventeenfortythree) wrote2021-06-17 12:50 pm
no subject
Jamie's tired, running, sleeping in caves abandoned by animals that carry lingering scents of their dragged back kills. Wearing clothes that were rags to begin with, tattered now from living in the woods, washing blood out, beating them on rocks. His hand aches; it shouldn't anymore but maybe it's the constant cold in his bones.
He hasn't been warm since swimming back from Selkie Island, broken anew. He was given hope, La Dame Blanche, and he wanted it to be true so badly he's angry when it isn't, wants to kill an already dead man. He did find some things, gems, three sapphires, and he has them now, with nowhere to put them save clutched in his hand. That's where they stay as he sleeps, when he walks. He may as well be missing a hand for as little as he uses the right.
In the back of his mind he knows why he needs them, but it isn't until he gets to the stones that he realizes fully.
He's going to go.
He's going to try to go.
He has no more than a dirty white shirt, a full beard now since his journey as far from Ardsmuir as he could run. He's had no bath, he has no money. He has nothing but the gems and a prayer on his lips.
Claire.
For seven years he hid, for four he was a prisoner. He has no meat on his bones, everything sharp-edged and dirty. But for eleven years he's lived without her; he's not going to be an indentured servant, to spend his days in the service of the rich. And if he's found and taken he'll die before letting himself go. If he can't get to Claire, he'll go to Lallybroch once more and either live out his days or die the death he meant to have at Culloden.
Standing in front of the stones now, it's raining, dark and gray, and he finally can hear the sound Claire said was all around her. He thinks for a moment, if this is what he wants. To leave Jenny and Ian, their bairns who don't even know him anymore. Jenny will be safer. He left a letter with Murtagh, the only one who knew the truth.
I have to find Claire.
That was it, that was all; his godfather would know.
Stepping forward, Jamie remembers the last time he touched the stone, only rock then. Now it feels almost alive, and he doesn't know how he'll find her. She's English and surely she's not still in Scotland. Or is she? Did she try to stay close to a place that reminded her of him or would it be too painful? Does she have a bairn now, healthy and happy?
Did she return to Frank?
There are things that are impossible to know, but their entire lives have been exactly that - impossible - so why should this be any different? He will find her, he'll figure it out; nothing is going to keep him from her again.
When he touches the stone he lands in a clear, sunny day with a sky as blue as her eyes. On his hands and knees, he opens his fist and counts; he's gone from three to two sapphires and he knows without looking the missing gem will not be found. Slowly, he stands to his full height and steels himself for the things she told him of; paved roads, carriages that move without horses, lights but no flame. Still, Inverness is there, he can see it in the distance and it seems so familiar he wonders if he traveled in time at all.
It's made abundantly clear to him that he is indeed two-hundred years in the future when a car rounds a corner and all he can do is stare as it speeds off into the distance. Christ, she'd explained it but not well enough for him to not be so gobsmacked he simply stands for a moment staring after it, well until the lights on it fade away. But eventually, he continues and as he steps into the town proper it's unlike anything he could have fathomed. Buildings taller than he's seen before; new but somehow familiar mixed in. There isn't a kilt to be seen, the dress is...he stands out. Mostly because of how dirty he is, obviously not fitting, clearly the Sassenach now, even on the land he'd bled for.
He doesn't realize he's been approached. A priest, asking Jamie if he needs help.
"Nah," comes the instant reply until he realizes that's not entirely right. "My wife," he begins, swallowing thickly. His head feels like it might split.
"Your wife? Is she hurt? Are you?"
Again, Jamie shakes his head but the movement makes it swim. The shock, the cold he's felt for days, the hunger. It all combines in that movement, his vision coming to a pinpoint.
"Claire."
If the priest speaks again, Jamie doesn't hear it before the world goes black.
With alarm, the priest shouts for help, an ambulance arrives, and Jamie is taken to the closest hospital. It isn't long before rumors fly about a man who looked like he'd been living in the woods; maybe he was a ghost, for all he looked gaunt and pale. Rumors spread, in taverns and inns, in lines at the grocer, among ladies getting their hair colored and set.
He's been in this hospital of strange machines and wires hooked to him for three days. He hasn't said a word of who he is because he doesn't exist. People have come, told him things about his own body; hypothermia, malnourishment, dehydration. None of it matters. Police have questioned him and Jamie can only reply he doesn't know the answers to their questions. He has a newfound appreciation for the way Claire'd stayed as calm as she had in those early days.
The sapphires, he's assured, are being kept safe; a trace for missing or stolen jewelry in the area comes back empty and so at least he's deemed not to be a thief for now.
He asks every nurse about a Claire Randall, they're the only words he does say clearly. Asking if they've heard of her. No one can confirm it, and he doesn't know if that's better or worse. If he has to walk and swim and nearly die to get to her wherever she is, he'll do it.
He'll never stop trying.