She means to follow Jamie, but the shock slows her thinking and her steps. By the time she makes it to the entrance of the tent, even just those few steps, she can hear him. Anger. Grief. Nothing Tyron could begin to understand. Today is a wonderful day for him. He won, after all. But Jamie's worst fear has been realized and once she hears him throw down his coat, and the men part ways, she waits for a moment. Makes sure her face is dry. Makes sure her hands aren't shaking.
No one can ever know what Murtagh was to them.
Stepping out into the daylight, she easily finds Jamie, kneeling by a fire. She walks right to him, stopping behind him, unsure of what to say.
He's never been so separate from his body before, and he feels as though he's watching himself address Tryon, knowing that he's risking his entire family's welfare, but he can't stop it. And then it's over and by some form of automatic movement, he finds himself by the fire.
Jamie looks like himself, but he isn't even there.
He's somewhere else completely, completely unaware of the presence of his wife for the first time in their marriage.
After realizing he's not going to see her, she steps forward and bends down to put a hand on his shoulder. What she wants to do is hold him. Give him comfort. Let him weep. But none of that can be done out here.
He hears her, at least, at slowly stands un unsteady legs before reaching out a hand to her.
They're in the tent before he even realizes he was walking, and he looks around for a moment in confusion before finally letting himself fall to the ground again. He should be doing something, there are things to do - but he can't.
He doesn't know what to do or say, but the moment his face is in her hands he breaks. It isn't pretty; an ugly deep sob cracking from his chest like thunder before the storm. He alone knows the last time he broke wide open this way, and it was the moment she disappeared through the stones.
And then he went to die.
But now the battle is already over and all that he can do is try to reconcile that his godfather was shot right in front of him and there was nothing - nothing for it. He was a broken man in Paris, but the pieces were still there. Murtagh is gone, and Jamie feels gutted in a way he never had the chance to feel over his own father. His sobs taper off only after Claire's top and neck are soaked through his tears and likely snot, but he's so depleted he can't do anything about it.
There it is. She loves that Jamie is a man that feels his emotions, that cries with her when he needs to, and thank god that he allows himself to weep now. She doesn't know what all happened out there, but she'll never ask. She'll listen, if he chooses to speak of it, but like Culloden it's a pain she doesn't want him to relive.
Claire rubs his back, letting him take his time. Never has she rushed his tears.
He hears her and sniffles, sitting up and a hand across his face.
But the tears mix with the dried blood on his hands - Murtagh's - and it smears across his skin. It makes him blanch when he realizes, and looks ready to vomit as he stares at his hand as if a betrayer.
She's never seen him like this before. She's seen him in terrible, dark places. Broken. But there are many ways to break a man, and this is one they've yet to experience together. He's been hurt down to his very core. His heart.
Claire takes his hand with both of hers, covering it, and pulling it to her chest.
She doesn't know how she gets lost, but she manage it and then some. All she meant to do was take a rest, catch her breath after a long day of clearing out rabbit traps. She'd come across some weird stones arranged in a circle--she'd never seen them in the weeks since moving into the farmhouse--but she'd touched them and... what? No fucking clue. All she knows is she found herself flat on her ass, head pounding, and nothing really felt right.
It's why her gun is out as she moves through the woods back towards the house, deciding enough is enough. Except the woods are wrong. The path is not where it should be, and Ellie is feeling extremely fucking confused.
"Okay... this is a new fucking problem."
Give her infected over being lost like this any day.
Claire being away helping a woman give birth to multiple bairns means that Jamie is alone on the Ridge. He isn't sure for how long, but he knows he hates it, and he'd be glad for no other women giving birth anytime soon in the immediate area.
He's out hunting; crouching low when he hears footsteps. An Indian, he thinks at first, but no.
It's a young woman, and not one he's ever seen before. Considering he knows everyone on his land, it's alarming. She's dressed in unfamiliar clothing and he stands, slowly from his crouching position.
"Lass," an over six-foot-tall Scottish redhead calls, making himself clear, rifle limp at his side, no threat. "Are ye lost?"
It's rare for anyone to surprise Ellie, especially a big motherfucker like this guy. She's immediately lifting her revolver, regardless of where his rifle is. Her finger isn't on the trigger only because he's not aiming at her.
That's a weird accent. It clearly throws her, but she remains guarded.
"I have a home, lass. A cabin wi' my wife and nephew. On the land that I own, as I said. To no' ken the land means that ye're no' from here. Where are ye from?"
Though she'd been looking forward to dyeing wool with mama and Marsali, it just so happened this morning that a herd of game was migrating close to the Ridge. It's a hard choice to make, but she realizes quickly that she'd rather be out putting her skills to use, bringing back meat for their families. She's pleased, too, that her father thought to come for her.
There will be other days for dyeing wool, so today, she opts to follow the men into the woods. She sticks close to her father, following his lead for now.
Selfishly, Jamie always would prefer Brianna come with him. He hates missing opportunities to spend time with her, but when she chooses to hunt instead of dye wool, he's elated.
They go off; Ian and Fergus are together, and Jamie and Brianna. They'll meet back up at sunset and go back to the Ridge together. For now, he enjoys that it's just the two of them and he kneels down, watching the herd in the distance.
"We'll watch for a bit and see if there are any that seem to be lagging behind." The slower the animal, the easier to take down.
"No," he confesses. "Truthfully, it makes me wonder if we could shoot enough to trade more valuably wi' the Indians. Pelts for crops, meat for tobacco."
Jamie has an entire Ridge to feed, and it isn't as though they're flush with money.
"It also causes me to worry." They're not non-dangerous, especially if agitated.
Nodding in agreement, she says, "It's such a large herd, I'm sure we'll have enough to trade and keep."
She has those same worries, though. "We'll need to keep them far from the Ridge." It scares her to think of anything happening to any of the children, especially.
Truthfully, Jamie's never really been sure where they've stood for sure. He did her a grave wrong, so he's understood, always, but he's had a difficult time getting to know her personality, her moods. It doesn't help that he's pulled away from the Ridge so often.
"I would like that," he says with a soft smile. "I was ah...I was wondering if ye'd like to accompany Ian and I to our next meeting wi' the Cherokee?" He's never asked her along before, but. "Roger Mac could stay, be in charge of the Ridge while we're gone."
Which should be a boost to his confidence. Jaime's trying.
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No one can ever know what Murtagh was to them.
Stepping out into the daylight, she easily finds Jamie, kneeling by a fire. She walks right to him, stopping behind him, unsure of what to say.
At least he looks like himself.
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Jamie looks like himself, but he isn't even there.
He's somewhere else completely, completely unaware of the presence of his wife for the first time in their marriage.
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"Let's go to our tent, Jamie. Please."
They both need a moment.
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They're in the tent before he even realizes he was walking, and he looks around for a moment in confusion before finally letting himself fall to the ground again. He should be doing something, there are things to do - but he can't.
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"Jamie. Jamie, darling."
She doesn't know what else to say.
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And then he went to die.
But now the battle is already over and all that he can do is try to reconcile that his godfather was shot right in front of him and there was nothing - nothing for it. He was a broken man in Paris, but the pieces were still there. Murtagh is gone, and Jamie feels gutted in a way he never had the chance to feel over his own father. His sobs taper off only after Claire's top and neck are soaked through his tears and likely snot, but he's so depleted he can't do anything about it.
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Claire rubs his back, letting him take his time. Never has she rushed his tears.
"Oh, Jamie. I'm so sorry."
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But the tears mix with the dried blood on his hands - Murtagh's - and it smears across his skin. It makes him blanch when he realizes, and looks ready to vomit as he stares at his hand as if a betrayer.
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Claire takes his hand with both of hers, covering it, and pulling it to her chest.
"Look at me."
Not the blood.
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It's why her gun is out as she moves through the woods back towards the house, deciding enough is enough. Except the woods are wrong. The path is not where it should be, and Ellie is feeling extremely fucking confused.
"Okay... this is a new fucking problem."
Give her infected over being lost like this any day.
GOOD
He's out hunting; crouching low when he hears footsteps. An Indian, he thinks at first, but no.
It's a young woman, and not one he's ever seen before. Considering he knows everyone on his land, it's alarming. She's dressed in unfamiliar clothing and he stands, slowly from his crouching position.
"Lass," an over six-foot-tall Scottish redhead calls, making himself clear, rifle limp at his side, no threat. "Are ye lost?"
He has some experience with lost lasses.
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That's a weird accent. It clearly throws her, but she remains guarded.
"No." Yes. "Who are you?"
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He's not particularly afraid of her.
"My name is James Fraser, and ye happen to be on my land. So, I'm interested to know who ye are as well."
Jamie's calm, more curious than anything, and wondering if the Ridge is to be home to all who may stumble through the nearby stones.
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Like, literally. No one's claimed this area outside of Jackson. She and Tommy had been thorough in their rides out here.
"Do you have a camp out here?"
Maybe they missed it. Somehow.
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"I have a home, lass. A cabin wi' my wife and nephew. On the land that I own, as I said. To no' ken the land means that ye're no' from here. Where are ye from?"
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"How long have you been out here?"
She assumes he found the cabin.
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Jamie makes a noise of thinking, shrugging one shoulder.
"Let's see..." He pauses again. "What year is it now, then?"
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There will be other days for dyeing wool, so today, she opts to follow the men into the woods. She sticks close to her father, following his lead for now.
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They go off; Ian and Fergus are together, and Jamie and Brianna. They'll meet back up at sunset and go back to the Ridge together. For now, he enjoys that it's just the two of them and he kneels down, watching the herd in the distance.
"We'll watch for a bit and see if there are any that seem to be lagging behind." The slower the animal, the easier to take down.
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Nodding, she crouches down a little, out of sight for now with him. "Have you seen so many buffalo near the Ridge before?"
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Jamie has an entire Ridge to feed, and it isn't as though they're flush with money.
"It also causes me to worry." They're not non-dangerous, especially if agitated.
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She has those same worries, though. "We'll need to keep them far from the Ridge." It scares her to think of anything happening to any of the children, especially.
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"'Tis a bit more exciting than bee hunting, aye?" he asks with a grin.
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She continues to follow his lead, feeling his plan is a good one.
"We should do this more often." Not hunting necessarily, but just finding some time to spend together.
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"I would like that," he says with a soft smile. "I was ah...I was wondering if ye'd like to accompany Ian and I to our next meeting wi' the Cherokee?" He's never asked her along before, but. "Roger Mac could stay, be in charge of the Ridge while we're gone."
Which should be a boost to his confidence. Jaime's trying.
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