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Chapter Text

Blowing out 19 candles this year (one for good luck,) Brianna Ellen Beauchamp Randall made the same wish as always: to finally know her biological father. As she took a new breath after the last candle was out, she imagined their reunion. Her imagination always played the scenario out similarly, images of warmth, acceptance, and tears of joy and relief as the missing piece of her heart was slid into its place.

In her mind, he has always been the answer to all of the questions she had about herself. A tall, Scottish, red-headed answer if her deductions were correct. She ached for these answers because she knew that they existed. Whatever they were, they were too painful for her mother to offer. And despite everything she wondered about, she trusted her mama more than anyone or anything in the world.

For a time, Brianna was happy to be raised in Boston by her surgeon mother Dr. Claire Beauchamp, her Harvard professor adoptive father Frank Randall, and other close family friends who shared their kindness with her family. But after her parents filed for divorce when she was 15, everything shifted, a delicate box that had long been stored away had been cracked open.

Soon after the divorce was finalized, the only father Brianna had ever known tragically passed away in an accident. She holds onto few vivid memories from that year. Throwing dirt into the grave. Smiling at neighbors who waved with sympathy. Leaning into her mother’s protective arms. Cleaning out his office and tiny apartment.

Through it all, she never once truly had a break down until she attended a friend’s Sweet Sixteen. Graciously thrown by her friend’s affluent parents and grandparents, the party was magnificent and Brianna allowed herself to indulge, to twirl and smile, and forget. But then there was a father-daughter dance. And while Brianna never really cared for sentimental traditions, the simple realization of the fact that it would never, ever be possible for her to dance with Frank like that sent her spiraling towards the nearest bathroom.

With her head in the toilet, tears streamed down her face and vomit threatened her esophagus. Daddy is gone forever, she thought.

When she got her breathing back to a normal pace… she had another thought. A thought of a tall red-headed scotsman who might not even know that she exists. And the tears kept falling.

In the year following Frank’s death, Brianna began applying to colleges. While the two of them had once had a plan for her to join him at Harvard, for obvious reasons, that plan was no longer viable. The application process mostly consisted of research, paperwork, checking boxes and examining herself… and she found that she was no longer content with herself, or her life story.

The only clues she was given about the missing parts of her story were hidden in a romantic fairytale that her mother would tell her when it was just the two of them curled up together at bedtime. With very little creative ability and a severe lack of imagination, her mother was no story-teller, so, as Brianna grew older, it became clear to her that the lifelike characters in the story were based on real people. While the storylines often changed, two constants remained: an English healer named “Elizabeth Lambert” and Scottish hero named “Alexander Malcolm.” Two characters she wholeheartedly believed represented her mother and father. And if she was right, if this story held any factual information… Brianna knew that she would do absolutely anything to have the chance to know and love her father.

“Smudge, you seem far away...” her mother noted as she placed a large slice of birthday cake on a plate to hand off to someone else.

“I’m right here, mama,” she said, assuring her mother that everything was fine. Every time she approached the topic of him, her mother’s glass face would wrinkle in pain, ever so slightly, as tear droplets made themselves known. It was the pain that intrigued her the most. The pain that could only be caused by someone she loved so, so deeply.

Now that she was relatively grown, she decided this would be the year that she found her father, no matter what.

That night, after celebrating for hours, she sat on her bedroom floor alone, examining a paper file she created after helping her mother clean out her father's office. Within, was scrawled research about an ancient stone circle named Craigh Na Dun and various newspaper clippings of the First Minister of Scotland, one James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser.

Chapter Text

“BRIANNA!” Claire screamed up the stairs of the Boston townhouse, despite herself knowing that there would be no answer. 

Holding onto the banister, everything fell away and she could hear nothing but Frank’s voice ringing in her head. Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ.

“Not telling her… isn’t protecting her. And if you think that I’m wrong, well, you don’t even really know your own daughter.”

“I know about the little stories you tell her when you think I’m not listening.”

“She’ll figure it all out… one day. I just hope you don’t lose her because of it.”

“Fuck,” she muttered out loud. 

Opening the folded, handwritten letter again, she read the words once more. 

Dear Mama, 

By the time you get this letter, I will be on a plane to Scotland. And you know why. 

For as long as I can remember, there has been something missing. A part of myself that I do not know. And now, thanks to Daddy, I have the information I need to find him. 

I don’t know why you’ve kept me away but I need to tell him that I exist.  

I know that reading this letter will hurt you. I can picture your face so clearly. I am sorry that I am not there for you, but I am not sorry that I am going to find him. My father. Elizabeth’s Alexander.

You’ve been telling me stories about him forever. Did you know you were also telling me how much you love him? 

I don’t want you to follow me, unless that is what you want. 

I deserve answers and I think he deserves to at least have the option to know me.

I love you, Mama. 

Please don’t be mad at me. 

 

All my love, 

Bree

 

P.S. I do have a plan and will text you once I get settled to let you know where I will be staying. So please don’t worry too much.

“Oh God, Bree,” Claire cried out loud.

With no one to consult but a bottle of whisky, she called the hospital to let them know she would not be well enough to operate that evening. She sat on the couch, clutching a glass for hours before it was emptied. Not thinking about much except the meeting of her past and her present.

The meeting of her two greatest loves was never supposed to happen. She had decided that many years ago when she was at her lowest, terrified out of her mind, and pregnant.

She knew it was illogical to make important life-changing decisions while under duress, but as a doctor, she also knew that oftentimes you don’t have a choice. 

She hadn’t always been terrified. In fact, she had been happier than she could have ever imagined. And she did find happiness again when Bree was born. 

As she grew more like him before her eyes, she couldn’t help but tell her daughter stories of him, of them together. Speaking of the past went against her gut instinct, she knew Frank wouldn’t approve… but it was the only part of Jamie that she could give Brianna. Claire tried her best to cover up the truth as fiction but Bree had always been intuitive, intelligent, and curious.

Now, she was off to find him for herself. Claire dared to hope that it would all work out. Brianna was right after all, she deserves answers. Somewhere deep inside of her screamed that he deserved answers too.

The lingering terror in her brain prevented her from hoping with her entire heart.

She would follow Brianna, of course. No matter what happened, she would be there for her. So, she finally set down her glass and picked up her laptop.

How could I be so fucking daft? She thought. 

For the first time in years, she typed all five of his names into the search bar. James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser.

Her breath caught as if he was standing in front of her just now. Beautiful.

She spoke to her screen. “Our bonny lass is on her way to find you, Jamie. Oh, God, please protect her as I have.” 

As a surgeon, you have to learn to accept that certain things are out of your control but as a mother, nothing could be more difficult.

She couldn’t simply hop on the next plane to Scotland. She would need to see a few patients before she left. She would likely have to offer up some explanation as to why she would be disappearing for the first time in 18 years.

After her plane ticket was purchased, she fell asleep on the couch. By the time the sun rose, she received a text from her daughter. 

“Hi Mama, I just landed. Roger Wakefield is picking me up to take me to his father’s house in Inverness. I’m okay, I hope you are. I love you.”

She barely got through the text before water droplets bubbled, clouding her eyes. My brave girl.

“I love you, smudge. Be safe, Bree baby.”  

She sent her short text off to Scotland, hoping it would be enough for now. 

Chapter Text

Her mother behind her, Scotland below, her father just ahead. The wing of the plane dipped as the Captain announced they would be landing soon.

There were many things she looked forward to on this trip. She couldn’t wait to see the standing stones at Craigh Na Dun, breathe the smog-free air, stroll through the highlands, taste haggis.

She focused on these things because whenever she thought about the true reason she was crossing the Atlantic, she felt like she might collapse, or vomit, or both. She wasn’t known to be anxious, but alas, the symptoms were there. All her life, her imagination comforted her like a warm blanket providing rose-colored scenarios that would likely not be the case in real life. 

The thought that Jamie Fraser might not want to know her had never crossed her mind until just then, as the plane went in for its landing.

Though she knew the First Minister of Scotland lived and worked based out of Edinburgh, she chose to fly into Inverness to meet first with Frank Randall’s long-time associate, Reverend Reginald Wakefield, whom she had been in correspondence with for the past few months. 

She had heard about Reverend Wakefield from her father before, but had never been much interested until she found printed emails from him mentioning James Fraser while cleaning her father’s office.

Apparently, the Reverend had ties to many Scottish Clans, including Clans Fraser and MacKenzie, to which Brianna’s biological father belongs. From what she could tell, Frank was conducting research on Jamie Fraser for a while and maybe he had plans to share that research with his daughter one day. Maybe this research is what caused such tension between her parents for so long. Maybe they disagreed about how to handle the situation. Maybe… but she would never know the truth of it from Frank. She would have to settle for what the Reverend could provide. 

Bouncing off the plane with her rolling carry-on behind her, her flattened curls tied up and swinging, she looked out into a crowd of people. In his latest email, the Reverend assured Brianna that his son Roger (photo attached to the email) would be at the airport upon her arrival to escort her to their home. She stopped for a moment to send a quick text to her mother, to let her know she was okay and then pulled up the photo of Roger she saved to her phone.

She was then on lookout for the “dapper lad dressed in a brown tweed suit." 

“Allo, Brianna?” someone called out to her.

He was holding a sign for her, Brianna Randall , scribbled in sharpie. She strode over to him. Dapper indeed, she thought to herself.

“Hey! Roger?” she confirmed as he nodded. “It’s so great to finally meet you!” she added smiling.

He smiled back at her and reached out a hand for a friendly shake. She ignored it and responded with a warm hug. 

Breaking the embrace after a long moment, he asked if she was ready to get goin’. 

“Yes,” she was.

“Is that all ye have packed? Do ye no have luggage?” he asked her as they approached the exit. 

“This is all!” 

“It’s quite cold, ye may need to buy some extra things to keep warm.” 

“Well, good thing I brought all of my birthday money with me then,” she smirked. Then, she added seriously, “You have no idea how grateful I am for your help.”

“Och, it’s nothin’ at all,” he said, seriously.

When the two finally reached Roger’s car, he loaded up her small brown carry-on and opened the passenger door.  She made no attempt to fight his chivalry. 

Now that she’s met Roger, she was rather looking forward to spending time with him. He had already agreed to bring her to see the stones and she hoped he would also agree to accompany her to Edinburgh. 

While she still had high hopes for her reunion with her biological father, she figured that having a friend along would help quiet her newfound anxiety.

Her phone buzzed a few minutes into the drive, and she quickly viewed the notification: a message from her mother. Not knowing what to expect, she found herself appreciative of the brief, loving words. To distract herself from thinking about her mother back in Boston, she turned to Roger.

“So… do you have any advice for an American girl in Scotland?” 

“Hmm… I think ye should be more concerned about the fact that ye were raised by English people,” she looked over at him, shocked. “Nae, I’m just kiddin’. I think ye’ll do just fine. That hair and yer bonnie smile will be all anyone notices anyway.” 

“Is that right?”

“Aye, lass. Ye’ve a great smile.” 

“Well, thank you. I like yours too.”

His smile grew. “So… Are ye hungry? Tired? Ye must be jet lagged.” 

“All of the above. Can we get something to eat? I could eat a horse."

“Shhhh, they’ll hear ye,” He said pointing out the windshield to the horses grazing in the green.

Before she could stop herself, she bawled her fist and lightly jabbed him in the arm.

He feigned displeasure for a moment but then smiled again. “I know a cafe not 10 kilometers away.”

“Perfect.”

At the cafe, Brianna gobbled up a plate of burger and fries. She expected Roger would make a jab about ‘how American’ it was of her, but he didn’t say a word. He also avoided speaking about either of her fathers. Instead, they conversed about Inverness, his studies, and the standing stones. 

“It’s where my parents fell in love,” Brianna declared. “Mama has told me so many stories about them. For a while, I thought they were made up. But then, suddenly, I was old enough to Google. Once I had a clear visual, I couldn’t stop dreaming about them. I’ve felt a pull to this place ever since.” 

“And how do ye feel, now that ye’re so close to seeing them for yerself?” he asked, genuinely wanting to know.

“Well… it’s just.. it’s one thing to imagine something, or to see photos on a screen, but it’s another thing entirely to see the real thing,” she breaks off… sipping her black coffee.

“I guess I’m scared that it won’t live up to… my expectations,” she absently stirred and stared into the dark liquid.

“Well, if we are still talking about the stones, I can say that I’ve been there myself a few times and I found them to be quite magical,” he paused, measuring his next words carefully. “But if we are talking about something else… I have a feeling that it will all work out.” 

“Yeah?” she looked up at him from her mug.

“Yeah. And if no, I don’t care that he’s the most powerful lad in Scotland. I’ll give him a kick in the arse myself.”

“Well, you would have to be in Edinburgh to do that…” 

“Aye, I would,” he winked. 

“Aye,” she flashed him a brilliant smile that he already found himself counting on.

Chapter Text

“Good morning leannan, can I get ye a wee cuppa?” Mrs. Graham, the Wakefield’s housekeeper asked as Brianna made her way down the steps.

“A what?” 

“Tea, dear,” she clarifies.

Though she would much prefer a coffee, she accepted the offer not wanting to be difficult, and hoped that the warm drink would be enough to help her wake up and prepare for the day ahead. 

Today was the day she would finally see the standing stones at Craigh Na Dun. While she truly wanted to see and experience the place her mother told her so much about, she also had a logical reason for wanting to visit. Brianna believed that if she showed James Fraser a photo of her at the standing stones, he would see that he was her really, truly her father.

Officially, legally, Frank Randall was her father as he had adopted her soon after he married Claire. So, Brianna didn’t have a proper birth certificate to offer. In fact, she didn’t have much proof to offer at all, save an eventual blood test. But tests take time and she’s waited long enough. The reunion in her head wasn’t sterile. It was warm. 

She prayed that her word and her presence would be enough for him. 

Brianna followed Mrs. Graham into a dining area where both the Reverend and Roger were already seated, enjoying their “wee cuppas.” 

“Hello!” Brianna waved to the two as Roger moved to stand. 

“Good morning, Bree,” he said, pulling out a chair beside him. 

“I trust ye had a decent night of rest?” 

“Aye,” Brianna flippantly lied to the Reverend, not wanting to admit that her anxieties had prevented her from ever really falling asleep. She didn’t want him, or anyone else, to offer any sort of adjustments to her planned day.

When Mrs. Graham handed her the cup of tea, she thanked her graciously. “I’ll leave ye three alone to talk. Brianna, maybe I can read yer leaves later? Just leave yer cuppa out on the table when ye’re finished.”

“That sounds lovely,” Brianna lied again. She didn’t want Mrs. Graham’s fortune-telling to get into her head, not today.

“We have much to discuss, Brianna,” said the Reverend before Mrs. Graham was even able to leave the room.

“Yes, I suppose we do. Where should we start?” 

“Well, that is up to ye. Which father would ye. like to discuss first?”

“Can you tell me why daddy, uh – Frank, reached out to you about my father?” 

“I suppose that is the best place to begin. Well, Frank first reached out to me many years ago. Shortly after he married yer mother. Ye see, we reconnected when I declined their wedding invitation in favor of taking care of young Roger.” 

Breaking off his sentence, he pat Roger on the back in fondness. Brianna looked over at Roger, who offered up a reassuring smile. 

“Yer father was so in love with both yer mother and ye. But there was always a part of him that wondered… about yer true father. I’m sure it has been similar for ye. He knew that one day yer curiosity would surpass yer loyalty to him and ye would search. So, he wanted to make it easier on ye. He wanted ye to know yer full story. I also believe he may have been testing yer mother a bit.” 

“Huh?” she was confused by that.

“Frank knew that whatever had happened between her and yer father was deeply traumatic. But she never, ever, shared that part of herself with him and he felt as if she was holding back for many reasons. He suspected that she still carried a torch for him.”

“Did daddy ever say that’s why he wanted a divorce?”

“Not in so many words. But yer father was an astute man. He knew that yer mother’s heart wasn’t entirely his. I don’t think she was happy to find out what he was researching. His plan was to go against her wishes and deliver all of the information we found to ye on yer 18th birthday. But then….”

“But then he was killed in a car accident.” 

“Aye,” he sighed and took a long sip of tea.

Surprisingly, she didn’t tear up. She just wanted to hear more. All of it. 

Trying to change the subject, slightly she asked, “so you have a lot of research about my heritage, then?” 

“I sent most everything I found to Frank.” 

“Right, so, I have to be honest, I don’t really care about my entire family tree, or genealogy, or whatever. I know that stuff was important to daddy but I’ve never been much of a history buff. Do you have any information about my father, about James Fraser, that might be helpful to me now? Something I can’t find on the internet?”

“Weel, as I told ye in my emails… my sources close to the family do say that he is expected to be back in Edinburgh this week. But something I didna mention was that he is expected to be making a big announcement.” 

“A big announcement? Do ye know what for? ” Roger asked, so Brianna didn’t have to.

“Aye, I do…” he confirmed to bated breaths around the table. “He’s to be engaged to marry Lady Laoghaire MacKenzie.” 

“What?” Despite her flat tone, Brianna felt shock tingling through her limbs. How could he have not mentioned this in their emails?

“There is more… they, my sources, said that this marriage is quite advantageous to his political career as he will become a step-father to two young girls who lost their own father.” 

“Wow... Could you two think of a better time for your long-lost American daughter to show up out-of-the-blue, unannounced?” Brianna let out a laugh that sounded more like a sob and they were dumbstruck. "That was sarcasm... by the way," she said excusing herself from the room.

Roger followed. “Brianna, wait!”

“For what?” She turned to him. “I’ve waited 18 fucking years and NOW he’s getting married and starting a new family? I… I can’t believe this.”

“It doesna change anything. If he is who ye think he is, he will still want to know ye.”

“This changes everything! He's marrying a... a Lady. He has two daughters. He’s got a whole family now… and they’re Scottish, probably elegant... and sophisticated. What would he want with me?” She reached for the front door.

“Ye flew halfway across the world t’ meet him!”

“Yeah, well, maybe I should just go home and let him get on with his life.” She continued her wide strut away from him and the house.

“Bree,” he hurried after her and grabbed her forcefully by the arm. “Trust me, any man will be lucky to know ye. I think mebbe... he deserves the chance.” 

She actively tried not to blush at that but to no avail.

“Alright then….”

“Have I convinced ye?”

“Well, not quite. But I do still want to see the stones. Can we go now?”

“Ye don’t want to finish yer tea first?”

“About that...do you think we could stop for coffee on the way?”

“How American of ye...” he smiled. “Aye, 'course we can.”

Chapter Text

20 years ago

“I need to have ye.” “Oh do you?”

“Aye, I do, Sassenach. I want to make ye come for me right here in the heather of this faerie hill.” 

“Jamie!” she warned as he assaulted her neck with open-mouthed kisses. “There are people right over there!” Her heart pounded in disagreement with her logical brain.

“Ye just told me ye're carrying my child! How could I think of anythin’ else?” 

“Well, I was thinking we would discuss what this all means for us…” 

“What do ye mean? It means my life’s dream is coming true. Our blood, bodies and souls have created this wee miracle!” 

“I mean… what does this mean... do we... should we be married?” 

“Oh aye, that has been my plan for quite some time now, to be sure.” 

“Well you’ve never asked…” 

“Ye’re verra distracting, mon nighean donn.” He twisted a curl around his pointer finger. In the sunlight, the tendril was nearly auburn.

“Are you saying it’s my fault you’ve never proposed?”

“Weel, nae… perhaps it is my fault for bein’ distracted.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“Och, ‘course, mo ghraidh. I’ve been planning for a while to ask ye on our anniversary.” 

“You have? That’s… this week.” Skeptical, she asked, “Are you just saying that?”

“Claire. I havena lied to ye, and I don’t plan on startin’ now. I have the wee ring right here,” he reached into his jacket pocket. “I nearly pulled it out the moment ye told me ye were pregnant...”

“But...”

“I was paralyzed by the wanting of ye. And, perhaps, I was scared ye’d think I was only askin’ because ye’re with child.” 

“Is that why?”

“Nae. Before ye told me this, before our wee bairn was here wi’ us, ye know, it has always been forever for me, Sassenach.” 

“I love you, Jamie.” 

“And I, you.” He cupped her face gently and then allowed his palm to move lower, pausing on her breast, then lower, until he cupped the place their wee one would soon make itself known to the world. “And you… m'annsachd.” 

The sun was setting where the nearest hill met the sky, the light glaring through the middle of the stone circle, illuminating both of their frizzy heads.

“Jamie, I can’t wait to tell our little one all about this place. Promise me that we’ll visit at least once a year. We can make it our very own tradition.”

“These stones are verra special to us… aye, Sassenach, I promise we will make it so with our family. All of the bairns will know this place.” 

“All of them, hmm?” 

“Surely ye want more than just the one? They’ll be needing siblings to run amuck and drive us mad!”

With a decent cup of hot to-go coffee (paid for by Roger despite her resistance) in hand from the local cafe, Brianna was finally en route to Craigh Na Dun.

“My mother said one of the last times Elizabeth and Alexander visited the stones, they were engaged to be married.” She performed quotation marks with her fingers when mentioning the characters. She had told Roger a bit about the fairytales at the cafe yesterday and began sharing more today.

“Were they… Elizabeth and Alexander… ever married? ” 

“According to her stories, not legally. Though mama frequently assured me that they were very much married in their hearts, she said they even performed their own ceremony!”

“Ah, so they were handfast.”

“Handfast? What’s that?” 

“It’s a verra old Scots tradition. It’s an informal weddin’ for a temporary marriage. Basically, ye hold onto the hands of the person ye wish tae marry and announce yer intentions, exchange some vows, mebbe rings.. some would literally tie their hands together. And that’s that - ye’re married for a year.” 

“So, kind of like an old-fashioned, less glitzy, version of eloping to Vegas....”

“If ye say so,” Roger laughed. “Were they handfast here at the stones?” 

Looking out the window, she answered his question, “That’s what mama says… though I can’t imagine it would have been very private… there are so many tourists here!”

“Mebbe things were different then?”

“I don’t know…” Maybe things were different in her mother’s head. 

“Well, let’s park and go for a wee walk and see for ourselves, then,” he said, then snapped her out of her thoughts with the slamming shut of his car door. She took a slow final sip of her coffee and set it down in the cupholder, waiting for him to come around to her side to open the door. 

“Yeah, I could get used to this chivalrous crap!” 

“Crap?! Ye wound me woman, I’m simply trying my best tae impress ye.” 

Trying her best to mimic his accent, “Ye’re doin’ just fine, laddie.” 

He shook his head at that.

"Just awful," he laughed under his breath as they scaled the rocky green hill. She was grateful to be wearing the hiking boots she bought last summer. Despite the groups of tourists, Brianna forced herself to focus on the stones once they reached the top. She felt a strong pull towards the tallest stone in the center but before she moved closer, she handed Roger her phone. “Do you mind taking a few photos?” 

“I’d be honored,” he replied.

She placed her gloved hands on the middle of the stone. Unsatisfied with the lack of feeling, she removed each glove, placed them in her jacket pocket and then moved to touch the textured stone once again with her bare hands. “Oof, I need a manicure,” she noted as she wiggled her fingers against the cool, roughness. A cool breeze just then swept across her cheek, gently lifting strands of hair away from her face. “Hello,” she said to the stone. 

She imagined her mother and father standing in the exact spot, holding hands, exchanging vows, tying their hands together. Talking to the stone again, she whispered the words her mother ingrained in her heart. "Ye are Blood of my Blood, and Bone of my Bone. I give ye my Body, that we Two might be One. I give ye my Spirit, 'til our Life shall be Done."

“Turn around, Bree! Let me get one wi’ yer face!” Roger called to her. 

She quickly wiped her face clean of a tear or two before she turned to face Roger. He didn’t have to tell her to smile, she already was. She didn’t know what to expect of this place in person, it was just a bunch of rocks on a hill after all...but all of her expectations fell short of how she actually felt. It was magical.

After Roger did his best to conduct a photoshoot of Bree, a tourist approached them and offered to take a photo of them together, and the two happily took them up on it. 

After a long while of quiet, still, appreciation, Roger and Brianna made their way back to the car.

He opened the passenger door for her and she slid in with a “Thank you.” Immediately, she opened her phone and scrolled through the photos. She stopped when she got to the photos of the two of them standing in front of the center stone. She was beaming in this one, and so was Roger. The sun cast a signature golden glow across their pale faces. 

“So what did ye think?” he asked as he buckled up.

“I’m ready.” 

“Ready?” he questioned.

“To meet my father,” she said with confidence that she was only barely faking.

Chapter Text

Laoghaire watched as the news program cut to a clip of the First Minister. “Mr. Fraser, is it true that you are engaged to be married?” a reporter off-screen asked. 

“No comment,” he said quickly, but then decided to offer up a soundbite as well. “Let’s just say I am especially looking forward to our annual Christmas fundraiser this year!” He winked as he lowered himself into his black Jaguar.

The program then rejoined the lead anchor back in the studio who closed out the segment,“Could the First Minister be hinting at a holiday engagement announcement? We’ll have to wait to see. Now, let’s check in with Cam Stewart for the weather…”

Laoghaire clicked off the television, tossed the remote, and sighed. “They only covered our potential engagement fer mere seconds.” The remote landed on the floor.

At the sound, Marsali, Laoghaire’s 17-year-old daughter, ripped an earbud out of her left ear and offered some of her trademark sass, “Ma, one day ye’re gonna have tae realize that the world doesna revolve around ye.”

“Weel, I dinna ken, I thought mebbe the world cared a bit more about Scotland’s most handsome, powerful, eligible bachelor finally being snatched up is all.” 

“Sounds like we’ll just have to tip them off again before your official announcement if you want more buzz, darling,” offered her long-time friend visiting from London, Geneva Dunsany. 

Before they were able to move forward with their plot, they were interrupted by one of the housekeepers opening the door. “Pardon me, mistresses, but yer lunch is ready.” 

Laoghaire rolled her eyes as they all moved toward the dining room.

“As requested, fresh salmon, brown rice, and greens.” 

“Thank ye! It looks delicious,” said Marsali while the other ladies took their seats.

Just then, The First Minister popped his head in, “Hullo! How is everyone doin’ today?” 

Laoghaire moved to stand and meet him, “Oh Jamie! We’re just fine. How are ye?”

Distracted, Jamie caught a large blur pass by the large bay window across from the dining table. He blinked, trying to dismiss it.

Before her mother could reach him, Marsali added, “We saw ye on TV!”

Jamie looked over Laoghaire’s head toward Marsali, “Och, did ye now?” Behind Marsali, he saw the blur again. This time, there were no curtains to mask the people he now saw clearly, running across the lawn.

“What the…Laoghaire, phone security,” he said as he walked toward the window to get a better look.

“Where do ye think ye’re goin’?”

He ignored her and kept walking.

“It’s just a young lass… and a lad dressed in tweed,” he shouted back to her. Making his way to the back door, he ran into his Godfather Murtagh, “What in the hell is goin’ on?”

“There are two people making a scene in the backyard. I’m goin’ to check it out.”

“Lad, enough is enough, we haveta do something about these damn papparazzi vultures.”

Jamie picked up speed and made his way toward the gate where the culprits were squabbling. He overheard bits like “This was a terrible idea!” and “Ye’re sae stubborn!” The first words acknowledging the First Minister’s presence were from the lass. “It’s you,” she gulped. Her blue eyes nearly bulged out of her head.

“Aye, it’s me. And this is my property. Can I help ye?”

“I - Uh… Um...” 

“What she means to say, is…um…”

“Are ye truly reporters? I hate to say this but ye’re both terrible with words.” 

They looked at each other, both wanting to be rescued. The lad nodded to the lass and gave her a reassuring smile. Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward. “My name is Brianna. I’m your daughter.”

As he breathed out “Daughter?” he felt a shift in the air around him. And suddenly, Murtagh, Marsali, and Laoghaire were there too. 

“What’s going on?” someone asked.

“Please. Give me a moment.” 

“I don’t have much in the way of proof. But I am telling the truth. I'm your daughter. My name is Brianna Ellen Beauchamp Randall. My mother is…”

“Claire,” her name rolled sweetly off his tongue for the first time in years. 

“Yes, Claire. I was born on November 23, 2002. I brought this,” she dug for something in her pocket. “I thought it might help…”

“This is ridiculous…” Laoghaire interrupted. 

She handed him her phone, the screen lit up with a photo of Brianna standing in the stone circle. “It’s true. Can’t you tell?”

“Aye, I can,” he said.

“Ye canna be serious.”

“Her name… her hair… this photo. She’s my daughter, I know it.” 

“Can I have a word with ye in private? Jamie….” When he didn’t budge, Laoghaire continued in front of everyone. “Ye canna possibly believe this lass. This has to be some sort of mistake.”

“Look, maybe this is a mistake, maybe I shouldn’t have come. I know it’s bad timing with… everything going on, but I just turned 18 and all I’ve ever wanted was to meet you...”

Tears welling in her bonny blue eyes, Jamie could not resist the idea of being this girl’s father and stepped forward to gather her into his arms. For a moment, everything was right in the world. He cradled her head in his large palm as if she were just a small babe.

“How long have ye known… that I was yer father?” he stepped back, lowering his hands to hold her steady by her arms, looking into her eyes again.

“Mama never really confirmed it, she’s only told me stories about an Alexander Malcolm. My dad - my adoptive father, was the one who figured it out…” He dropped his hold.

“How could she have kept this, you , from me? For 18 years!” 

His frustrated anger radiated and Roger stepped up in attempt to create a barrier between the two red-heads. 

“I don’t know,” she offered gently. “There are many things she will not tell me about her past.” 

“Why don’t we invite the lass inside, Jamie, lad?” Murtagh asked.

“Aye…will ye come inside, Brianna?”

“I will. Is it okay if Roger comes too? If not, it’s fine, he can stay out here,” she pat him on the shoulder.

“Aye,” Jamie chuckled at that. Tension not forgotten, but broken. “The lad may come as well. How did ye find this place?”

“Well, we went to Bute House first… naturally. You weren’t there, obviously. So, we figured you might be at your country residence… and here we are.”

“The internet is a verra scary thing.”

“Aye and we only had to scale one verra tall shrub to get here.”

“Alright, alright, let’s get inside. I’m freezing my bollocks off out here,” Murtagh growled.

Just inside the foyer, Jamie offered Brianna and Roger official introductions to Laoghaire, Marsali, Murtagh, Geneva and the housekeepers, Mary and Finlay, who were nearby. He also spoke of his uncles, Colum and Dougal MacKenzie, who were expected soon and Laoghaire’s wee Joanie who was currently preoccupied with a nanny. Brianna introduced herself, and Roger, for the benefit of everyone who was not outside for the spectacle.

“Laoghaire, Marsali, Geneva, do ye mind giving us a few minutes?” Jamie asked, escorting them out of the hall toward the dining room, not giving them much choice. Much to his surprise, they didn't offer any words of reproach. 

After seeing them off, he motioned to the three he left behind to follow him to the main living area. “Mary, could ye bring us some tea?” 

“Mebbe something a bit stronger would do better,” Murtagh said.

“Mary, could ye bring us some whisky too, please?” 

“Aye, o’course. Just a moment.” 

Jamie and Murtagh sat in two upholstered chairs across from Brianna and Roger who sat snug in a green velvet loveseat. Once seated, Brianna took out her phone and began typing.

“Are ye texting yer mother?” Jamie attempted a joking tone.

“Um, well… yes actually. She’s been trying to contact me all day and I’ve been ignoring her.” 

“So she knows ye’re here then?”

“She does now.” 

“I have so much to say… so much to ask of ye…” 

“Me too.” 

“Will ye stay wi’ us for a wee while? I would verra much like to spend some time wi’ ye.” 

“I would like that. Very much.” 

“Roger is welcome too, ‘course.” 

Then Mary returned to the living area with a tray in hand and set it on the centered table. 

“Thank ye kindly, Mary. A wee dram all around?” 

“I’m not 21, but… I could use a drink right about now, I think.” 

“Ye’re already of drinkin’ age here, lass. Drink up,” Murtagh encouraged. Jamie poured four drams and passed them around.

“To Brianna, m’annsachd, this was not how I expected this day to go, but I am verra glad ye are here. Sláinte.” 

Raising their glasses toward each other, Brianna and Jamie locked eyes and shared a smile. Once Jamie’s dram was gone, he casually excused himself from the room, asking Murtagh to show the two visitors to guest rooms while he reluctantly made his way to the dining room.

Chapter Text

“Before she moves in with us, mebbe we can… I dunno… get a blood test? Make sure this isn’t some... some con artist.”

“Laoghaire, she’s no a con artist," Jamie said, leaving no room for an argument.

“Oh this is one way to make headlines, darling. Exclusive: First Minister Caught in a Love Child Shocker!” Geneva laughed but caught a glare from her friend for it. 

“She’s no’ a love child, either. Her mother and I were married,” Jamie clarified, earning a glare from Laoghaire as well.

“What?” Laoghaire, Geneva and Marsali harmonized in disbelief.

“Weel, it was a handfasting ceremony in Inverness. We had plans to make it official but it never happened. She...Claire, she left me.”

“So... it doesna count,” Laoghaire sighed in relief.

“‘Spose no,” he said, defeated.

“I canna believe it. I’m goin’ to have a sister!” 

“What d’ ye mean? Ye have a sister!” her mother barked at her. 

"Aye, but this one is American and cool .” 

“ Cool , eh? She does seem verra cool ...aye?” Though standing right there, Jamie sounded far away. Marsali happily nodded her head and before she could finish replying “Aye!” she was distracted by her phone, popping her earbuds in, and making her way out of the room.

“Laoghaire, I’ve asked Brianna to stay a wee while. I would verra much like to ken my daughter and I hope that as my girlfriend ye’ll welcome her, as Marsali has.” 

“Fiancée,” she corrected and bit the inside of her cheek as she continued. “And aye, Jamie, o’course. Ye have plenty o’ room here for all of us. I would love to ken her as well.” 

“Good. Now that we have that settled, I’m goin’ to go check in on her. I left her with Murtagh, I want to be sure the auld coot isna givin’ her a hard time.” 

With his back to her as he left to find Brianna, he couldn’t see the look of disgust coating Laoghaire’s face which appeared as if she were suddenly burnt by the sun.

“Hullo, Brianna?” He knocked gently on the guest room door left half open. When she answered, telling him to come in, he did. Inside, he found Murtagh and his daughter sitting comfortably together in the bay window with fresh smiles. If you didn’t know the truth of it, you would believe they had known eachother forever.

“We’ll be callin’ her Bree from now on, Jamie, lad,” Murtagh spoke to him first, and the two shared a knowing look. 

“Is that so, a leannan?” 

“If you’d like. That’s what everyone at home calls me.”

“ Bree, ” he tried it out and thought it over.

“I know it means…” she looked over at Murtagh, “a disturbance , among other things… which in my case is fitting…”

“Bree,” he said, stopping her. “I couldna imagine a better disturbance in all my life.” He hoped his words had the desired effect. Based on both the look they were both giving him, they did. 

“So, do ye like the room?” 

“Like it?! It’s incredible. I could fit three of my rooms from our townhouse in Boston in here!”

“Weel, I’m verra glad to hear it. I want ye to be comfortable here.” 

He reached out for her hand and squeezed it as she gave him a look that said “Thank you.” 

“I imagine Roger is settling in okay?” 

“I believe he’s taking a “wee nap” as we speak!” she said with a childlike giggle.

“Och, ‘course. Ye must be dead on yer feet!” 

Anyone could see that she was exhausted, but she was also terrified to fall asleep. Terrified that this was the dream, being here, and that sleep would take him away from her all too soon. An irrational fear, but still, it was there. “Honestly, I’m trying to convince myself I’m not dreaming now.” 

“If ye were dreamin’ lass, I ken I wouldna have to ask ye what I’m about tae ask ye.” 

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Can I have yer mother’s phone number?” 

“You want to speak with her?”

“I do. I want tae let her ken that ye’ll be safe wi’ me. I’m sure she is goin’ out of her mind.”

“Okay. I will give you her number, on one condition,” she paused, waiting for his go ahead and then, once he nodded said, “Please, be gentle with her.” 

“Aye, Bree. Ye have my word.”

“Give me your phone,” she commanded with an open palm. 

With a small glowing grin she said, “I’m putting my number in here too.” She handed the phone back to him.

“Murtagh, give me your phone next.”

He pulled what looked like a small brick to Brianna out of his back pocket.

She took it from him. “What the heck is this?”

“I’m an auld man. What do I need but a way to call home?” 

“Well, now I expect you to call me as well,”  she said, handing his phone back to him.

“Aye. It’s now a way to call home and my favourite disturbance.” 

Jamie felt overwhelmed, watching them interact. He needed to excuse himself. “Murtagh, why don’t we get goin’ and gi’ Bree some time tae rest.” 

“Aye,” Murtagh stood and placed his brick of a cell phone back in its place. With a subtle bow to Brianna, Jamie turned to leave the room, and his Godfather followed. The door shut behind them.

When they were far enough into the hall, Murtagh grabbed Jamie to stop him. “Will ye really be callin’ Claire now?” 

“Weel, it’s th' middle of the day in Boston and I’m no sure what her schedule must be like. I’m sure she’s a doctor now… but I feel I must try.”

“I don’t envy yer position. I bid ye good luck, lad. Tell her I said hullo and that unfortunately for her, I have a new favourite lassie.” 

Dripped in sarcasm, Jamie replied, “To be sure, that will be the first thing I say.” 

Murtagh laughed deeply as he left his godson, standing alone, feeling unsteady, in the hall. 

Somehow he made it to his study. He sat at the desk in his study, staring at the phone so hard the lit screen was blurry, and though he knew the contact she added was “Claire Beauchamp” he could no longer read the name. 

He brought his left hand up to rub his eyes in order to readjust. How is this happening right now? he thought. There was a time he would have given anything to have this number available to him. Many times, he considered going through unethical channels, but there was always something, or someone, to prevent him from doing so.

There was nothing to pull him back this time, save his own shaking hands. 

“Hello?” she answered after two full rings. Her voice wasn't tired, or hurried like he expected.

“Hullo.” 

“Jamie.” 

“Sassenach, it’s good tae hear yer voice.”

Chapter Text

“I know you must have questions…” she started carefully.

Just the one: Why? He thought. “Aye, I do but that is no why I’m callin’ just now.”

“It’s not?”

“Nae, Claire. I just wanted tae tell ye that Bree is safe here wi’ me. I won’t let anythin’ happen to her.”

“Thank you for saying that.” 

“Och, I mean it.” He brought the phone from his left ear to his right, and used his left hand to rub his eyes again. Though she stayed silent, he could now focus enough to hear familiar goings on in the background.

When he could no longer stand the silence, he started again. “Claire, I-”

She cut him off. “Jamie, I wish I could give you the answers you deserve right now but I really don’t have the time, and…”

“Are ye workin’ then?”

“No, I...my flight is about to board... for Edinburgh,” she said, glancing around at the other beings awaiting journeys to Scotland from Boston Logan International Airport. A small boy distracted by a tablet, an old couple sharing a danish, a beautiful woman wearing what had to be six-inch heels. 

“Ye’re flyin’ all th’ way here?” 

“Of course I am. She’s my daughter.”

“Aye, I know. She’s mine too.”

She deserved that , she thought, and anything else he chose to throw at her . “Jamie. It’s…”

“Ye really don’t trust me to mind her, then?” While he felt anger itching to rise, burning in his gut, he tried his best to be gentle with his words, and tone. For Brianna.

“It’s not you I don’t trust. Please…”

“I’ll text ye th’ address, Claire. But when ye get here, I expect ye tae tell me what in the world I did to deserve not to ken my daughter fer half my life.”

“I didn’t want her to get hurt,” her voice cracked. 

Each grasping their phones, a world apart, they let a painful silence linger that could have stretched 20 years. But then she heard her gate called.

“I have to go,” she said. 

“Aye, I’ll be seein’ ye, then.” 

A click. The phone went dead.

“Aye,” she whispered as she stood up and made her way towards the line for boarding.  

19 years ago

He stood in the doorway of their bedroom. “Jamie...I thought you were supposed to be gone for the weekend,” she said from her spot on the floor, surrounded by folded clothes and luggage.  

“Aye, I was, but one of the horses unexpectedly passed away yesterday, so the entire event was cancelled outright. What is goin’ on here?” He walked over to the desk where papers were crumpled all about. 

“Nothing,” she lied, moving to stand up.

Before he could examine any of the papers more closely, she made her way to him and reached for his arms. She pulled him towards her. “Nothing?” he asked. “What’s all this?” He asked, motioning to the mess of a room.

“Can we sit down?” she glanced toward the bed but he didn’t move.

“Sassenach, what is goin’ on?” He brought his large palms up to her round face. She hadn’t glanced in the mirror, but she knew she was puffy and blotchy. 

“Mo ghraidh, why have ye been cryin’?” he asked.
“Jamie, have I ever lied to you?”

“No, ‘course not. Ye couldn’t. Yer wee glass face gives ye away.”

As an aspiring surgeon, Claire Beauchamp had read about open heart surgery dozens of times. She knew that in order to get to the heart, you had to break apart the breastbone. In order to save the organ, you had to inflict pain. 

“Jamie, I… can’t marry you.” 

“What do ye mean? Yes, ye can.” 

She thought about their last time together. Her nails weren’t quite long enough to do much damage, but she clawed his back as hard as she could and pulled him deeper. “Harder,” she pleaded. In contrast with her words asking for more, she was sobbing, and he was holding back. “Please. Please.” She said, needing him to lose control. She craved the soreness. She wanted to find deep bruises on her hips. She wanted to still feel him when she walked away.

“No, I can’t…” she shook her head and broke eye contact with him. “Jamie, I thought I could, but I can’t forgive you.” 

“For...for Faith?” 

She thought she had already cracked open his chest, but no, that was her own. This was the cut that would do it for him.

“I’ve been trying for months. Pretending. I just… don’t feel the same. I don’t feel safe.”

She paused, bringing her bottom lip into her mouth with her teeth and drew blood.  When he didn’t respond… she continued to lie.

“Things have changed for me. I don’t want to live in Scotland. I don’t want to be your wife.”

“Could this mebbe just be PTSD or somethin’ from... the accident?”

“I’ve talked to a therapist, Jamie. I’m a nurse. This isn’t just PTSD.” 

His face collapsed with his body. Eerily similar to when she sat in a hospital bed and told him “I lost our baby.” Thinking about Faith left her feeling numb, equipping her with the demeanor she needed to finish the job. “I’m leaving tonight,” she said to his crumpled, sobbing mess on the floor.

Claire had been alone most of her life, certainly she could do it again. But she hadn’t known life with her soul’s mate then.

I won’t be alone for long, she thought. She had a promise that she wouldn’t. Two missed periods, two faint blue lines. 

“Where will ye go?” He asked, looking up at her through his long, wet lashes.

“America. I’ve been offered a job,” she said.

“Were ye plannin’ to just leave with nothin’ but a wee note behind?” 

“I thought it would be easier…” 

“Claire, ye said ye couldna forgive me. I understand that’s how ye feel now. But, please know. I can forgive ye for this, and anything else. I love ye.”

She wanted nothing more than to fall into his arms and assure him that of course, it was the same for her. On her knees, she would repeat their vows: Blood of my Blood and Bone of my Bone. Before she had the chance, they were interrupted by Jamie’s uncle, knocking at the door.

Dougal MacKenzie hated Claire for all she was from Day One... but she never, ever expected it would come to this. He was there to make sure she wasn’t backing out of their deal. 

Jamie cursed at him in a frenzied mix of Gaelic and English until Dougal finally walked away.

“We ken ye’re pregnant again,” he had warned her after an informant within the house found a test disposed of in her bathroom.“Ye ken we can take care of it, again. This time ye might not survive to make another.”

Was he really insinuating that the accident had been his doing? She asked herself as she felt bile rise from deep within her.

“What the fuck do you want from me?” she spit, hovering a hand low over her belly and the bean-sized gift inside.

“I want ye gone, lass. Leave Jamie. Leave Scotland.”

“Is this really all about fucking politics for you?”

“Ye ken we are invested in Jamie’s success. He will be elected to parliament, he will be the First Minister of Scotland one day. Ye’re just a distraction and he’s a fool, like his mother. He’d give up everything tae see ye happy. That willnae work fer me.” 

That wasn’t the last conversation, or threat made to Claire by the MacKenzie brothers. She was tortured for weeks with anonymous phone calls and letters. While she didn’t yet know the depth of their corruption, she knew they were serious. 

She wasn’t sure how long the offer of safety would keep. So, she made the call. To protect their child, she would go. 

She moved around Jamie, who was still on the floor. 

She hoped this wasn’t the last she’d see of him. 

She hoped one day she would find a way.

She hoped it was soon.

That night, she got on a plane to Boston, where she would be staying with an old friend from university, Frank Randall. 

Chapter Text

After he got off the phone with Claire, Jamie made a gallant effort to finish up the work he had abandoned earlier upon Brianna’s arrival. His focus drifted until he was finally saved by a knock at the door telling him that his uncles, Colum and Dougal MacKenzie had arrived.

In the foyer, he found them removing hats, gloves and jackets. “Hullo, Uncles,” Jamie said, welcoming the two brothers into his home. 

They were visiting for business purposes, as owners of a popular distillery chain in the UK. MacKenzie Whisky was contracted to service most First Minister events, including the annual Christmas Gala. 

If he was honest, Jamie didn’t care overmuch for either of his uncles. In fact, they disapproved of almost everything he stood for as a politician and as a person. It took many years of conflict, some physical, for them to finally give up on trying to work him like a puppet for the MacKenzie clan. 

Like his mother, he wouldn’t be controlled. Despite his distaste, he kept them close. Not just to keep an eye on them, but because they were his blood, and after all, they were the reason he entered politics in the first place. Their strength and support was invaluable to him after Claire left. Without them, he believed he would have ended up living alone, off the country land, with not much to his name but a horse. His life was much different than he had once imagined it, but he was grateful nonetheless. By serving his country, he had found a purpose, a reason to keep going. 

“I apologize Uncles, but this is a verra bad time for us to meet.” He wished he had instructed someone on his team to ask them not to come. He hadn’t expected another purpose to show up out of the clear blue sky that day.

“Ah, well if ye’re busy lad… surely yer bonny fiancee could entertain us.” 

“Aye, I’m sure she can. She’s in the living room.” He pointed towards the hall leading there. But spoke again before they could make any moves. “Afore ye go tae meet wi’ her, I must tell ye… I have recently learned that I have an 18-year-old daughter.” 

“A daughter?” asked Colum.  Jamie nodded. “Aye. She’s my blood. Ye’ll ken it the second ye lay yer eyes on her.”
“An illegitimate child, eh? Och, Jamie, what terrible timing indeed, lad.” 

Jamie barely let Dougal finish his thought. “I willnae be entertaining that kind of talk,” he said. "My daughter is upstairs and I expect ye both tae show her respect.”

“I hope this girl showing up willna disrupt the wedding plans or yer campaign for re-election, is all,” Dougal said, nonchalantly. “To be sure, we can find a way to use her existence as an asset, rather than a liability,” Colum offered.

“My daughter is not a disruption, asset, nor liability. She’s a living, breathing 18-year-old.” Jamie deepened his voice as if he was holding a dagger to a man’s throat. “Ye’ll no be using her for political agendas, yers or mine...or I swear to ye, it will be the last thing ye do.”  

“Jamie, please, relax lad,” Dougal laughed off his heated warning. With a pat on the shoulder, he added, “All will be well.”

While Dougal’s response did not shock Jamie in the least, his lack of surprise at the news certainly did. He watched them walk off toward the living room.

“The daughter is off limits, brathair. But the lad said nothing about the child’s mother,” Dougal whispered, out of Jamie’s earshot.

The MacKenzies would not be meeting Brianna that evening, as she was peacefully sleeping off the remnants of jet lag as well as the emotional exhaustion that came with meeting her biological father for the very first time. 

A warm sun beam woke her gently the next morning. She rolled over in the queen-sized bed and immediately reached for her phone, expecting messages from her mother. She was right, she’d texted last night after she fell asleep to let her know she boarded her flight. She smiled at the message that said “I love you, smudge.” As if on cue, another came in to let her know that she landed and would be making her way to her first stop: a hotel in Edinburgh. 

She’ll be here soon , she thought and then began wondering what to expect from her parents’ reunion. Despite the lies she told, she knew, without a doubt, that her mother still loved Jamie. She also knew that Jamie was now engaged to be married to somebody else. 

Interrupting her thoughts, there was a knock on her door. “Bree, it’s...me.” Jamie called. “I’m sorry tae wake ye.”

She pulled on a sweatshirt before opening the door. “You didn’t wake me,” she said smiling.

“Och, good. Will ye join me on a wee walk around th’ grounds, then?”

“Sure! Let me just get dressed and tell Roger… I’ll meet you downstairs?”

“Aye,” he said, mimicking her smile before turning to leave.

Not ten minutes later, Brianna met Jamie in the foyer.

“I noticed ye werenae wearin’ much in the way of winter clothes yesterday,” he said, handing her a tartan. “This is beautiful," she said, holding it one hand and gently brushing it with the other.

“It’s a Fraser tartan. It’s not original, mind, those are verra hard to come by. But it was made with warmth and the Fraser colors in mind.”

“Thank you,” she said, wrapping it around her shoulders.  He opened the door for her and together, they stepped outside.

“So… how did it go with mama?” she asked, anxiously wanting to rip the proverbial band-aid off and test the subject.

“Well, I think. As well as can be expected, to be sure.” 

“She texted me this morning, saying she landed in Edinburgh and that she would check in at her hotel first before calling me.”

“Aye, she was boardin’ when we got off the phone last night.” 

“Can I ask ye somethin’, Bree?”

“Of course, anything!”

“Is she… is yer mam happy?”

“I think so… I mean, I know she’s lonely. Especially now that daddy is gone...but honestly, she’s always been that way. She’s in her head a lot, almost like she’s living in a different world… but she’s always been content with who she is.”

“Aye. She’s always known exactly who she is. I loved that about her.”

Loved. Past tense...but still, he used the L-word. She stored that in her mind to maybe explore later.  “Me too. I used to be jealous of how strong and sure she was as a woman but... now I realize that if I was more like that, I would have never found you.”

“I think we were meant to find each other, m’annsachd.”

Blushing, warmth fled to her cheeks as she nodded in agreement. “You called me that before...What does it mean?

“Och, it means... my blessing.” 

“So you truly don’t think I’m a disturbance ?” 

He stopped in his tracks, bringing an arm out to stop her too.

“Nae, and anyone who makes ye feel otherwise doesna ken the truth of my heart.”

They continued walking in a comfortable silence until she spotted a large sectioned off part of the grounds, full of plants trying their best to survive. She noted something familiar – the stones used to decorate the outside.

“This looks like mama’s garden back in Boston! Hers was smaller, of course, but she would spend hours hand-picking stones to -”

"To protect her wee herbs," he finished for her. "It was yer mother’s.” Her face lit up at that. Another piece to the puzzle.

“Weel, actually, it was my mother’s and then, when I met yer mam, she took it upon herself tae bring it back tae life. Mary minds it now. This house used to belong to my parents, ye ken?”

“I’m named for her, you know. And your father, I’m pretty sure. Brianna Ellen .”

“Ye were, I ken it. My father was verra fond of yer mother.”

“I’m sorry, if it’s painful to talk about them… It’s painful for me to talk about my father, so I understand.”

“It’s nae painful tae talk of them wi’ you.” He glanced over at her, sympathetically. “I’m sorry, about your father.”

“He was a good man and he raised me well, if you were wondering.”

“I…” 

“But even having him,” she cut him off. “I never stopped wondering about you…he knew that.”

“I’m verra glad ye wondered.” 

“Me too. Though, I hope it didn’t hurt him too much. I did love him, very much.”

“He knew. That’s why he wanted to give proof of me to ye, because he loved ye so much too.”

Deciding to change the topic, as this particular one was all too hard to speak much more about, he started again,“There’s something else I wanted to talk to ye about. I ken yer mother is on her way and I ken it’s because she worries about ye and... I’m afraid she is right to do so. As First Minister, bein’ in the public eye as I am, there are people who want tae hurt me, but I promise ye I willnae let them hurt you. I swear it.”

“You know… you are pretty good at this dad thing.”

Now it was his turn to blush, despite the cold already working to redden his face, she noticed. “Thank ye. I’ve always wanted tae be one. I’ve settled fer being an uncle and then... I settled for being a stepfather for Marsali and wee Joanie."

“And now? Can ye settle for an American teenager?”

“It’s no settling. I’m yer Da .”

“Da? Is that Gaelic?”

“Nah, it’s only simple," he raised his large palm to hold her blushing cheek. She once imagined his hands to be rough - they were anything but.

“Okay well, then, Da, I have one more thing to ask of you...and I’m not sure if you’re gonna like it...”

“Anything,” he promised.

“Do you think… can mama stay here with us?”

Chapter Text

Awake from his wee nap late in the evening, Roger moved his car closer to the house and returned with both his and Brianna’s bags. Upon his reentrance, Murtagh lamentably introduced Jamie’s uncles, Colum and Dougal MacKenize. These men were tall like Jamie, but offered no kindness or warmth. They looked at Roger as if he was an intruder. They both shook his hand, but barely seemed sincere in their offers of welcome. In fact, it felt to him like a warning. He excused himself up the stairs as quickly as possible.

After dropping Brianna’s bag at her door with a gentle knock, Roger laid awake in the guest room for hours. He absently went through his emails, scrolled Twitter, and caught himself staring at the photos of him and Bree at the stones until his eyes were too tired to stare at the screen any longer.

When he woke in the morning, it was to Bree knocking on his door to let him know that she would be going out for a walk with Jamie. She was wearing a soft Harvard heather grey sweatshirt he hadn’t seen before, confirming to him that she got her bag last night. He fell back asleep rather quickly for a short time before waking up again for the day. Leaving his tweed suit laying on the floor, he pulled a clean cotton oxford shirt and dark jeans out of his bag. Roger then moved to look out the window, enjoying the view of two red-heads weaving through the grass below. He couldn’t find words to explain the joy he felt at the sight. 

He made his way downstairs, not knowing what the proper etiquette was. He was out of his element in the home of the First Minister of Scotland. He barely knew Brianna, let alone the complete strangers in the house.

Roger walked toward the only familiar room in the large house, which he knew after having spent some time there with Murtagh, Jamie and Bree last night. Stepping cautiously closer to the living room, unsure of whether he wanted to enter, he overheard Brianna’s name. It wasn’t pleasantly spoken. 

“Ma! Don’t ruin this fer me. She seems so cool. Ye ken I’d love to live in America one day!” he heard a much louder, energetic voice say. He cleared his throat to make his presence known from the doorway and all three women turned their heads towards him. “Morning!” he said. 

“Robert! Do join us,” Loaghaire’s friend Geneva spoke first, excitedly pointing towards a free chair. “It’s Roger,” he clarified, not moving.

“Oh, Roger! I apologize. Sit, sit! We’re just talking girl-stuff. Shopping, specifically. ” He sat across from Laoghaire in an upholstered chair. 

“Shopping?” he asked, feigning interest.

“Weel, Roger, I hope ye’ll keep this between us,” Laoghaire whispered, leaning in. “We’ll be goin’ wedding dress shopping this week!” 

“I’m buzzin’! We plan to leave in the afternoon for the city and stay for a few days to really drum up some attention.” Laoghaire swatted Geneva’s lap with the hand that wasn’t holding tea. 

“What do ye mean by attention?” Roger asked, innocently.

Marsali was draped across a loveseat as she spoke. “Ma thinks she’s Princess Diana or something. She’s obsessed wi’ having her photo taken, ye see? She wants everyone tae be talkin’ about her and Jamie and th’ big weddin’ day.” 

“Och, mind yer heid, Marsali.” Laoghaire snapped. Once her focus was turned back towards Roger, Marsali rolled her eyes. “Roger, can I get ye some tea?” she asked, not-so-subtly changing the subject.

“I’d love tea, thank ye.”

“Mary!” She called, loud enough for the horses outside to hear. Once Mary popped in, Laoghaire ordered her to get tea for Roger. 

“Right away, Mistress," Mary squeaked, disappearing from the room. It fell quiet until movement in the hallway stirred their attention. 

“What’s all that?” Geneva asked.

“Sounds like Jamie’s uncles are heading out.” 

Thank God they’re not staying, he thought. He didn’t much like the idea of having to hang out with those two, Laoghaire and Geneva were company enough. When he heard the unmistakable melodic tone belonging to Brianna, he excused himself, ignoring Laoghaire’s call after him, “But yer tea!”

Before entering the foyer, Roger hid himself in a corner and watched the interaction between Brianna and her new-found family. He didn’t want to interrupt, but he was also intrigued to see how the brothers MacKenzie would receive their new great-niece. 

“American, eh?” he heard the taller MacKenzie, likely noting her accent.

“Yes. From Boston! I know my accent doesn’t give it away… which I am told is a good thing.” She laughed, but neither of the MacKenzies softened.  

“Ah, Boston… And yer parents are just fine with ye runnin’ away from home?” he quizzed.

“I… I didn’t run away. I took a trip... I’m 18. And besides, my mom is perfectly aware of where I am.”

“Is she, then?” the other brother, Colum, spoke for the first time.

“Yes. I don’t keep secrets from my mother.” 

“But she obviously keeps secrets from ye…” Dougal glanced at Jamie and then back to Brianna. 

“Enough,” Jamie growled and moved to stand overlapping his daughter, arms crossed, biceps bulging. If I didn’t know this man, I would be scared of him, Roger thought. Actually, nae, I am scared of him. 

“Dougal, Colum, are ye leavin’ already? Can I help ye tae yer car?” Murtagh asked, casually descending the stairs. By his tone, Roger assumed he had been listening-in as well.

They responded with grunts as they made their way to the door. “Till next time,” Colum offered the room as a goodbye. Dougal said nothing.

“Alright, Roger, ye can come out now,” Jamie said once the door was shut. Roger rounded the corner.

“How did ye…”

“I heard ye breathin’, ye wee numpty!” 

“I don’t blame you for hiding,” said Brianna. Cautiously she added, “I don’t think I like my new Uncles...”

“That’s just fine, Bree... no one does,” said Murtagh as he patted her on the shoulder. 

Brianna removed a tartan from around her shoulders and pulled off her gloves. 

“Weel, now that’s done… Are we all hungry?” Jamie asked the group. 

“Ravenous!” Brianna replied. 

“Bree, can I have a moment alone with ye before we eat?” Roger asked. 

“Sure!” she said to Roger. “Da, we’ll meet you in the dining room in a bit?”

“Aye,” he replied, eyeing Roger skeptically, but didn’t stop them from heading up the stairs. 

Roger followed Brianna to her room. “Can we talk here?” she asked when they reached her door. 

“Here will do,” he said, gulping as she turned the knob.

She set her tartan delicately on the made bed and sat down on top. Then, she patted the spot next to her.

“So...how was it? With Jamie?” he asked, sitting down beside her.

“It went really well,” she smiled so wide, he knew it to be true. “We talked about mama and daddy and my grandparents… it just felt right.” 

“And yer callin’ him Da.” 

“I am. That feels right, too.” Her smile grew.

“I’m sae happy for ye, Bree.” 

“Thank you, Roger. That means a lot,” she said looking over at him. She wanted to reach out for his hand, but instead she tried to bring her smile back down to earth. “Was there something else you wanted to talk about?” 

“Aye… about yer soon-to-be step-mother, actually.”

“What about her?” she sighed, reluctant to burst her bubble.

“Weel... it’s just that… I think she’s terrible.” 

“What?!” She nearly exploded, jumping off the bed. Her reaction was difficult for him to read. 

“Aye, I mean it. Maybe not evil, but somethin’ is off.” He joined her in standing. “I caught her talkin’ about ye earlier and it didn’t sound positive. Not to mention...the way she talks to the housekeepers and her obsession with paparazzi… it doesn’t sit well wi’ me."

“Well, this is good news…”
“Are ye mad, woman?! Bree, yer father is tae marry her!” 

“Exactly… Now I don’t have to feel so guilty.”

“Guilty? About what?” he asked, mind-boggled. Before she could answer, she giggled a bit.

“Roger... I’m going to Parent Trap Mama and Da," she locked eyes with him to make sure he wasn't confused at the reference before continuing. "And I don’t have a twin... that I know of… so, I think I might need your help.”

There’s no way she could be serious , he thought. 

As if she could read his mind, she said, “I’m serious.” In a bit of shock, he said nothing.

“I have to call Mama and let her know that she’ll be staying here, with us… could you go downstairs and let everyone know I’ll be down soon?”

“Aye... Sure, I can do that,” he said, leaving her to what was likely only step one of her scheme.

Chapter Text

Claire was staring at her pale reflection in her hotel room’s bathroom mirror when she heard her phone buzz from where she dropped it on the dresser. Brianna, she thought as she went to pick it up. “Hello?” she answered. 

“Hi Mama!” 

“Oh, Bree, baby, it’s so good to hear your voice,”

“Yours too. I can’t wait to see you!” 

“Soon, love. I’m just settling into my room now,” she said, though she hadn’t settled at all, really. Her carry-on was untouched, she was starving, she hadn’t changed from her plane outfit. She only just managed to drag concealer over the darkening skin of her under-eyes when she caught sight of herself in the mirror.

“About that… Da and I were wondering if you might want to stay here with us?” 

“Da?” she asked. But, of course, he wormed his way into her heart in less than a day. It took years for teenage Bree to call her Mama with the same affection.

“Yes, Da – Jamie... Mama, I would really feel better if you were here with us.” 

“I don’t really think…”

“Please, Mama, there are so many people here that I don’t know. It’s overwhelming and I’m pretty sure Da’s fiancee and uncles hate me. Luckily, I have Murtagh and Roger on my side but it would just be so much better if you were here too.”

“Woah, woah, woah, wait… you said Uncles ? Who did you mean?”

“I mentioned Jamie’s fiancee and you’re hung up on his uncles? Really?”

“Bree, please. I’m being serious. Who were they? Are they there now?”
“Um, well… I only really met them for a few minutes before they left. Their names were… Dougal and Colum,” she recalled all too slowly. 

“But they’re gone now?” 

“Yes, why are you freaking out?”

“Bree. Please, I will explain what I can soon. Please, be extra careful around those two. Trust your instincts. Do they know that I’m in Edinburgh?”
“I… don’t think so. I didn’t tell them!” 

“Okay, that’s good. Bree, I’m so sorry I’ve done this to you.”

“Mama, it’s very clear you had your reasons. I’m sorry I had to come see for myself.” 

“I wouldn’t have you any other way. I love you.” She held the phone tight to her ear. 

“I love you too. So, I’ll see you soon and you’ll stay?”

Her hands were shaking as she said, “Yes.”

She couldn’t believe that she had agreed to stay, but of course she would do it for Brianna. She checked out of her room with an unexplained apology and a generous tip. 

After stopping quickly at Starbucks for coffee and an avocado toast to keep her standing, she made her way to the Fraser Country Estate. She was surprised at how easy it was to readjust to driving on the left side of the road and was comforted by all of the green she passed as she left the city. 

Walking up to the familiar house for the first time in nearly two decades was almost like an out-of-body experience. She focused on the feeling of the cobblestones under her feet to convince herself that it was real. Before she approached the door, she texted Brianna to let her know that she was there. She wanted her face to be the first she saw. 

When she rang the bell, an unfamiliar face answered. “Ye must be Mistress Beauchamp! I’m Mary, a housekeeper for the estate.”

“Hello, Mary. It’s lovely to meet you, you can call me Claire.”

“Can I take yer coat? Ye can leave yer bag right there, Miss...” she hesitated and smiled before calling her Claire.

Claire was able to hand over her coat before Brianna bounded down the steps. “Mama!” she yelled, catapulting herself into her arms. “Darling,” she whispered into her hair before looking up. Just behind Brianna was Roger, whom Claire recognized from photos. 

“You must be Roger,” Claire said, gently breaking away from her daughter. 

“I am,” he confirmed and reached out a hand. She took it, and thanked him for watching out for Bree.

“My pleasure, truly. I never thought I would find myself rubbing shoulders with the First Minister of Scotland, let alone a lass as bonny as this one right here.” They both looked over at Bree, who was beaming.

“Too right!” Claire said, happy to see her daughter engaged in a crush for the first time. Then she looked around to take in her surroundings.

“I told Da to wait in the dining room…” 

“Oh,” Claire was wondering where he might be. 

“Are you…?”
“Ready? No. And I don’t think I ever will be, so let’s just get on with it, shall we?”

Brianna nodded and motioned for her mother to follow them into the house, to the dining room. 

When they entered, Jamie stood up. 

“Hello,” Claire said to the room full of both strangers, and people she once knew better than anyone. 

Murtagh jumped up then and made his way across the room to her. “Och, lass. What took ye sae long?” he asked and lifted her small frame into a hug. She wished it would be that easy with everyone else. 

Jamie was silent still and Claire avoided direct eye contact with him. Deciding to start elsewhere.

“You must be Laoghaire,” Claire reached across the solid wood dining table sitting between them.

“Aye, I am. It’s nice tae finally meet ye, Claire,” she said, shaking her hand. 

She noticed the blonde was wearing a large, sparkly diamond engagement ring. Very different from her own, a silver band, delicately decorated in thistles and Celtic knots. Just then, she remembered exactly how she felt the first time she read the inscription hidden on the inside. She still wore the ring around her neck on a long silver chain.  It took everything in her not to grab for it.

Jamie felt like he was on a ship in the middle of the sea. He still hadn’t uttered a word. Laoghaire went on to introduce Claire to Marsali and Geneva, who were pleasant enough.

When Claire had tired out her options, she turned to Jamie. “Hi,” she said. “Thank you for inviting me to stay here. I do feel better knowing I’ll be close to Bree.” 

“Aye, to be sure…”

“Ye’re staying here, then?” Laoghaire asked. Claire winced, obviously Jamie had not run the idea past his fiancee.

“Um…yes?” Claire answered, shakily, she wanted to look at Jamie for help.

“She’ll be stayin’ here, aye,” confirmed Jamie.

“Well that’s just… lovely,” Geneva said with a hint of sarcasm. She stared at Laoghaire, waiting for her to react.

“Alright then… That’s settled. Mebbe we should have a big dinner together tonight?” Laoghaire suggested. 

“Wait, what about our plans?! We have appointments!” Geneva whined before anyone could agree. Laoghaire responded with a subtle kick to her friend’s shin.  

Then, Roger remembered what Bree had asked of him earlier. “Och, to be sure. Ye canna put off yer big shopping trip to Edinburgh,” he said. Laoghaire did not kick him but Brianna bumped him with her hip, trying to convey her appreciation. He looked down at her to share a knowing smile.

“I’m sure they need some time to talk about a bunch of boring stuff anyway, Ma! I dinna want tae stay here! I have plans with friends in Edinburgh tonight.”

Laoghaire relented with an eye roll, “Alright, fine.” 

“I’ll leave ye to it then,” she said to Jamie. “Let’s get goin’ ladies.” 

 She moved over to her fiancee and kissed him as possessively as she could manage in polite company before turning to Claire. “We’ll have to host ye for a fancy dinner at a later date.” 

When Laoghaire, Marsali, and Geneva were gone, Claire took a deep breath.

“That was weird.” Brianna said out loud, earning a chuckle from Murtagh. When a few moments passed, Brianna grew tired of the silence. “I’m just gonna say it… you two need to talk.” 

“She’s nae subtle at all, this one,” observed Murtagh before either of her parents could respond.

“Aye,” Jamie admitted. “Leave us be,” he said.

“Ok, I love you both,” Brianna said, quickly ushering Murtagh and Roger out.

“Are we safe to talk here, Jamie?” She looked around the dining room, unsure what she was even looking for. 

“You’ll feel safer upstairs. Follow me.” 

“Are we going to your room? I don’t think that’s…” 

“Claire, Laoghaire has her own room. Mine is the safest place for us in the house, no one will bother us. I promise I willna do anything immoral.”

She rolled her eyes, but ultimately nodded and followed him.

When they reached the door, she realized it wasn’t the same one they stayed in the last time she was here. This must have been his father’s room , she thought. He let her in first, and she stood patiently waiting for his next move. He motioned toward the far left corner of the room where there was a round rug, chaise lounge and an upholstered chair. She assumed he used this space for his pleasure reading. “Sit,” he said pointing toward the chaise. She did as she was told.

Once she sat, her resolve was gone. Words started spilling out before she could give them a second thought.

“I suppose I should start with what I’ve been wanting to say to you for 18 years. Jamie, I’m sorry. Most of all, for keeping her from you. It is my life’s greatest regret that you didn’t get to raise that beautiful girl. And I know it’s going to be difficult to let me talk. I have so much to tell you and you’re going to have questions. I promise I will answer anything that you ask, okay?”

“Aye,” he said, sitting down in the chair across from her, rather gingerly for a man of his stature.

“I didn’t want to leave you, Jamie. I never would have. Even now, knowing what I do, I can’t believe that I did. I know I’ve lost your trust, but I swear to you on everything that I am, that I made the decisions I did to protect our daughter.”

She took a deep breath. Her secrets were inflaming her gut and she needed to get them out. On the plane, she decided to think about this necessary conversation as if it were an appendectomy: just a routine surgery, lasting about an hour. There would be some pain, but she knew exactly what incisions had to be made. 

“I’ve imagined having this conversation for years and now I don’t even know where to start…” she admitted.

In this case, she was severely worried about complications.

“How about th’ beginning?” 

“Right,” she said, as she forced herself to remember waking up to blinding fluorescent lights and emptiness where her baby should have been. “When we lost Faith, something changed for me. I blamed myself because there was nothing I could do to protect her, even though I would have done anything.”

He itched to physically reach out to her. No one in 18 years had approached the topic of Faith with him, though he carried the memory and guilt of her brief existence with him, always.

“It wasn’t long after the accident that I started hearing things and seeing things. Or at least that’s what my therapist had me believe at the time. That it was all in my head. Then I started receiving strange phone calls. My therapist shrugged those off too, and I felt truly paranoid. I started fighting with you for no reason. I couldn’t focus at work. Maybe that was their plan all along... to drive me mad.”

“Who?” 

“I figured that out by accident one night... here, in this house. Your father was not doing well, so we were visiting. Your Uncles, Colum and Dougal, were here too. I couldn’t sleep, so I left you in bed and went for a walk. They were on the porch, I was in the foyer. They had no idea that I was awake, that a window was propped open, that I could hear them. They were talking about what they would do if I didn’t go away on my own. I didn’t know if it was real. And you were going through so much with your father, I didn’t want to burden you with my crazy.”

He got up then, sat in front of her on the floor, and gathered her shaking hands with his own. She was shocked at his touch, but didn’t dare move.

“Over time, I figured out their true motives. They wanted me gone so that they could ensure they could make you their puppet, specifically that you would pursue a career in fucking politics.” Gone was the gentle surgeon, as venom seeped into her words. “While they hated me for who I am as a woman, what they hated most was that all you wanted was a simple life with me. They wanted someone simple for you. Someone without a career, someone they could mold. Someone who wouldn’t distract you from their goals.” 

“But surely ye couldna believe that I would ha' let them come between us?”

She shook her head, Of course not. “It wasn’t until a few months later, when I found out I was pregnant again that I became truly terrified of them and what they would do to our family. The idea of having another chance at being a mum, to have our baby, it meant everything to me. They knew that, somehow they knew everything about me. Which I later found out was because my therapist was actually an informant.”

“Christ,” he breathed.

“Days after I took a positive pregnancy test, Dougal confronted me in person. Somehow, he knew I was pregnant and they used my fear of losing another child against me. In fact, he claimed credit for the accident that took Faith. I didn’t want to believe that to be true, even now, I’m not sure if I do, but my brain was traumatized.”

She could feel his overbreathing against her legs now. His palms were sweating and his grip cramped her fingers. 

“You were always so sure you could read my glass face, I prayed that you could tell I was leaving you against my will.”

“Ye were verra convincing,” he said, looking up at her through his heavy, wet eyelashes.

“I went to Boston, and stayed with Frank Randall, who at the time was just a good friend from University. My plan was to safely give birth and then make my way back to you.”

“What happened then?”

“A year later, I felt stronger, holding Bree in my arms. So, I emailed your sister saying that I had a lot to explain and wanted to visit. She didn’t reply until days later to let me know that you were jumped in an alley. She told me you were going to be okay, you had only broken your nose and a few ribs….but the paranoia came flooding back... I had no idea what they were capable of.”

He absently took a hand from Claire’s lap and brushed the disjointed line of his nose. 

“When I couldn’t live with it anymore, I started seeing a psychiatrist in Boston, in an attempt to numb myself with appropriate drugs. I just wanted to be okay enough to be a mum to Bree at that point.” 

“Claire... Ye’re a wonderful mother, I ken it. Ye should hear the way Bree talks about ye.”

For the first time in over an hour, her mouth inched into something resembling a smile. 

“A few years after my failed attempt at reuniting with you, I had a friend in Boston reach out to a Private Investigator for me. The PI reported back a few times, and finally he alleged that he had proof that your uncles were in deep with the newly-resurged Scottish mafia. He said their fingerprints were all over massive smuggling and trafficking jobs.” 

“Ah Dhia, I always suspected they were up to no-good… but I never…” 

“Suddenly, their investment in your political career made some sense. You were their way-in to certain circles and a safety blanket at the same time," she continued before he could say anything. "Before the PI could provide me with any physical proof, he disappeared...”

“Claire, I promise ye, I will take them down myself if I have tae. I have power now that I didnae have before.”

“Good. I’m glad we are on the same page. But...before we talk about what to do about your psychopathic Uncles… I need to tell you about.. Frank,” she said painfully. “Frank asked me to marry him when Bree was three and I said yes. I hoped that having him would prevent me from crawling back to you.”

He didn’t know how to react to her speaking of the man who raised his child. Brianna told him some of Frank, and he was able to quiet his jealousy, but hearing about him from Claire threatened to rip him apart. “Did ye love him?” he asked.

“He was my friend.. and he loved me. He loved Brianna. And...eventually, yes, I loved him too. Not in the way that a wife should love a husband but it was enough for him, for a time. Then he was asking me for too much, things that I could not give him. So, I told him to file for divorce. It took longer than I expected. Not long after we separated, he was killed in a car accident.”

He nodded, listening. Understanding.

“I thought the paranoia would come back in full-force when he died that way, but it didn’t. I’m stronger now and Brianna is grown. I’m not as terrified as I used to be. Even telling you this. I feel... relief, more than anything.”

“Claire, I promise you are safe here wi’ me. I ken I mebbe wasnae able tae protect ye before, but I’m the First Minister of Scotland now. I wilnae let anythin’ happen tae ye or our daughter.”

“I have no choice but to trust you this time, Jamie. Our daughter kind of forced my hand here. I have to believe that we can protect her together.” 

Jamie moved to stand and brought Claire by their still clasped hands with him. “We can protect her.” She brought her eyes to meet his and nodded.

“Can I ask you something?” Claire asked, gently pulling back ownership of her hands.

“O’course,” he said.

“Do you hate me for it?”

“Hate ye? Sassenach, even before I kent all of this, I never hated ye. I’ve missed ye… and I’m grateful ye kept our lass safe.” If his words didn’t shock her, him bringing her closer to him by the shoulders to place a light kiss on her forehead, certainly did. 

“I want ye tae sleep in here tonight,” he said and her eyebrows wrinkled into a confused expression.

“No like that. Just… I want tae be sure ye feel safe. I’ll sleep on th' chaise over there.” He pointed to where they were just sitting. “No one will ken.” 

When he added a “Please,” she melted. 

“Well, alright,” she said, biting back a smile.

Chapter Text

If he thought watching Claire sleep in his bed would be easy, he was wrong. So, he tried to distract himself by thinking of the time they spent with Bree and Roger after their talk.

“Were you two… upstairs?” Brianna asked, coyly, upon their return.

“Brianna…” her mother warned in a stern voice. 

She giggled then turned serious, “Is everything okay?”

“Aye, it will be, a leannan,” Jamie promised his daughter.  

Things weren’t healed between them, far from it, but he knew there was potential to find something good between them again. And he would welcome it, whatever it was.

He loved watching Claire and Brianna catch up as if they hadn’t seen each other in weeks, when it had been merely days. Their bond was truly beautiful. 

They ate dinner together, the four of them, with Murtagh. Jamie frequently reminded himself that no, he wasn’t dreaming and no, it wouldn’t last. 

Murtagh shared stories with Brianna about catching her parents in precarious situations when they were young. Jamie gave him a look of warning at first, but when Brianna begged for more information, he couldn’t begrudge her. Claire didn’t say a word, but caught his eyes over a sip of wine. 

After dinner, they retired to the living room to sit by the fire with drams of whisky and chocolate chip cookies. “She’s a Scot, Sassenach. What do ye expect?” Jamie said when Claire challenged him for pouring Bree her own glass. 

When Bree suggested they take a walk, Roger and Claire happily obliged. Jamie excused himself to his study. Alone for the first time in over 10 hours, he allowed himself to break down. Bawling his fist, he slammed it into his desk. A framed photo of Marsali and Joan fell over and shattered at the impact. He felt nothing as specks of his blood appeared on his knuckles. 

He was trying his best to keep up his First Minister facade, to stay strong for both Claire and Bree. But if he was honest, he would admit that the idea that his own uncles could threaten his wife and child made him feel physically ill. 

They had been in this house just today, he thought. How could I have no seen it?

Because I didnae want tae see it , he answered himself. 

“I could kill them,” he said out-loud, staring at his father’s shotgun displayed on the wall.

The last time he saw Claire in person, 19 years ago, he thought he ruined everything, but now he had a chance to make it right... and he would. No matter what it took.

After Claire left him, he searched for her. He wanted to respect her wishes, but couldn’t bring himself to fully let her go. His uncles ( damn them ) even suggested hiring a private investigator, but he thought that was too far. Now, he thanked God he didn’t, as he wondered what the private investigator would have done to her. 

The first word he heard from Claire was nearly a year later, through an email to his sister. Hours after Jenny told him about it, Jamie was beaten and left bleeding in an alley. While he was in the hospital recovering, Jenny told him that she had let Claire know about the attack. By the time he was released, Claire still hadn’t responded.

When Jamie finally tried to reach out to the email address himself, it bounced. The error message that popped up on his screen hurt almost as much as the day she left him.

Years went by before Jamie was elected to parliament, a position that helped him to feel fulfilled. All the while, he still ached with the missing of Claire and the life they meant to have together. He remembered a weak moment, near the anniversary of their handfasting, when he asked his secretary for help in finding her. With his limited technical ability, Jamie had until then, found only one mention of a Claire Beauchamp in a Harvard Medical School Journal. The secretary came back with an announcement of her marriage to Frank Randall. 

Jamie excused himself from work for two days after that, until Murtagh found him blacked out in a stable near his sister’s home at Lallybroch.

Thinking of the past 20 years of his life felt like he was trying to assemble a jumbled puzzle in his head. He didn’t have the energy to solve it. 

The only thing he knew for sure was that Dougal and Colum MacKenzie were dangerous people who needed to be dealt with immediately.  As First Minister of Scotland, he had many resources at his disposal, but now that he had been burned by his own uncles, he would be keeping his in-the-know circle smaller than ever.

Taking a seat at his desk, he pulled out his phone. With his secure line, he dialed someone who had more than proven his loyalty, Detective John Grey. John had saved his life on multiple occasions and Jamied had returned the favor at least once. He also knew John had both personal and professional ties to the National Crime Agency, which would prove to be useful. 

When John answered, Jamie gave him a summary of what Claire had explained to him earlier.

“Jamie… wow...I,” he stammered. “Clearly we have a lot to catch up on, what with you having a long-lost American teenage daughter and all, but first, I must tell you: the NCA are so close to taking down the leader of the Scottish mafia. You have no idea how helpful this information will be, it’s invaluable. Are you willing to go on the record? Is Claire?” 

“John, man, that’s a relief tae hear and aye, we will do what we must.”

“Good. I will reach out to my contacts and get back to you as soon as I can. I must say, I thought you would be more torn up about your uncles being organized criminals.”

“Tae be honest, I am preoccupied with th’ thoughts of protecting my family.”

“Of course.”

“Do ye think ye could help me hire extra security fer the house? Mebbe bodyguards for Claire and Brianna.”

“I can do that. I will send you an email with some contact information. Before I let you go… I am curious…how is it… with Claire and Brianna?” 

“I dinna ken, John. I feel... I feel as if my life’s blood has returned tae me.” 

“I’m very happy to hear it, Jamie.”

“Thank ye, John and thank ye fer yer assistance on this. I cannae repay ye.” 

“You can buy me a dram next time we meet.”

“Aye, that I can do.”  

Before he could set down the phone, it was ringing. He quickly scanned the CallerID before answering “Laoghaire.”

“Hullo, Jamie! I just wanted tae call and see how things were goin’?”

“Just fine,” he said. Before she could say anything else, he continued, “Look, I ken we have a lot tae talk about but I was wonderin’ if mebbe we could hold off on makin’ any big decisions or announcements regardin’ the weddin’?”

“What do ye mean?”

“I just think, mebbe... I need some time.”

“I’ve given ye all th’ time in th’ world! Ye promised tae be a father tae my children, Jamie Fraser.” 

“Laoghaire, mebbe ye could be a bit understanding of th’ current situation I am in? I didnae ken about Brianna until just yesterday. I’m feelin’ a weee bit out of sorts just now.”

“Weel, imagine how I feel!” she wailed, letting out a sob before the line went dead.

If thinking about that call with Laoghaire couldn’t distract him, then he was pretty sure nothing would. Replaying his entire life in his head wouldn’t be enough to keep his eyes from wandering to the fidgeting form warming his bed. 

He wished she would call out for him. He wished it so much he could almost trick himself into hearing his name being whispered through the darkness. 

A sliver of moonlight peaked in through the shades, outlining her perfect silhouette. He found himself standing beside the bed. Barely stopping himself from reaching out to graze his rough knuckles against the soft skin of her cheek, he instead turned to leave the room.

“Are you playing yourself in chess?” Brianna approached Jamie from behind, who was sitting alone in the living room. A lamp softly illuminated the corner where he was sitting.

“Aye, I play sometimes when I cannae sleep. I dinnae have much time during the day tae play… and weel I dinna really have anyone to play with.”

“Can I play?”

“Do ye ken how tae play chess, then?”

“I do! I learned in summer camp and used to play online with a few of the friends I made there.”

They sat together and reset the board. 

“Did you let me win?” she asked, bewildered when she beat him. 

“I wish I could say it was so!”
She laughed and asked him to play again. He obliged.

“Mama told me about your uncles. I’m sorry,” she said as she took out one of his knights.

“I am the one who should be sorry, a leannan. I’m sorry I couldnae protect ye or yer mam from them.”

“Look, we can’t change what happened. But if I learned anything from losing Daddy, it’s that we don’t have much time with the people we love. I’m here now, Mama’s here now. All we can do is move forward and hope everything will work out.” 

“Aye,” he agreed. “Ye’re verra wise.”

“I am! Oh! Before I forget…” she had her hands in her sweatshirt pocket. “I made an album of photos that I wanted to share with you! Just a few of my favorites from growing up.” 

“I would love that,” he smiled watching her face glow by the light of her phone. 

“Um… Da…” she whispered. “Don’t freak out.” 

“What is it?” 

“Dougal’s iPhone came up on AirDrop,” she said cautiously and looked around.

“What does that mean?” he asked earnestly.

“Well, unless he left his phone here earlier… it means… he’s close by.” 

Chapter Text

Jamie stood up. Hitting the table with his knee, he knocked over more than a few chess pieces. “Brianna, come wi’ me,” he said, grabbing her free hand. He pulled her close behind him as he led her up the stairs, toward his bedroom. 

He swiftly unlocked the door with his key. “I need ye tae stay here wi’ yer Mam,” he said pulling her into the room and shutting them in. 

“Mama’s in your room!?” she asked, before she made it far enough into the room to look over at the bed. He reached for her by the shoulders and drew a line: “Later,” he said. 

Jamie moved to rummage through his closet. Brianna made her way towards her mother.

“Mama,” she said gently, sitting beside her. Claire rolled over and rubbed the deep sleep from her eyes. “Bree? What…”

“Mama. I need you to put on your Doctor Face.” 

“What’s going on?” 

“I think Dougal might be in the house. I think the plan is to hide…Jamie asked that I stay here with you.”

Awake now, Claire sat up. “Where is Jamie?” 

“He’s just over there…” she pointed to the other side of the room, where he was now sitting on the floor, looking into a metal box. 

Claire flung herself from under the covers and out of the bed. “Jamie!” she called as quietly as the panic rising in her would allow.

“Sassenach, I’m goin’ tae take care o’ this.”

Jamie’s hands searched for something in his pockets. “Brianna, I dinnae have my phone. Can ye dial 999? Tell them that ye’re at the First Minister’s Country Residence wi’ a verra dangerous intruder. Do ye ken the address?” 

Brianna nodded, knowing she wouldn’t need it, and was dialing while Jamie’s thoughts spiraled. “It will take them too long tae get here,” he said, picking up a small pistol from the metal box on the floor. He glanced at Brianna, who was now talking into the phone. “Why did he come back?” he asked no one in particular while he crossed the room.

“Where are you going?!” she nearly choked on her words at the sight of the weapon in his hand.

“I cannae just wait here. I’m goin’ to get Murtagh.” 

“Then I’m going with you.” 

“Nae, ye are not," he said, meaning it to be the end of the discussion.

“Jamie…” 

“Claire, ye’re staying here wi’ our daughter. Ye’ll be safe here.”

“I don’t want to be safe… I want to be with you.”

When he thought of this moment later,  he would think of her sparkling eyes, her pouting bottom lip, the way she grabbed for his hand. He would swear he felt his heart stop before its pace quickened again.

“There’s a chance we will run intae the bastard, Claire.” 

“I know ,” she said. 

Jamie had to remind himself that her stubbornness was a trait that he had once loved most about her. Thankfully, Brianna was easier to convince to stay behind. An "End of Discussion" look from both of her parents had Brianna reluctantly agreeing.

Walking toward Murtagh’s room, they had to pass what would have been designated Claire’s guest room as it was the only one clean and unoccupied in the house. The door was cracked open. 

Noticing together, they stopped in their tracks and instinctively looked to each other. Jamie silently brought up an arm to push Claire behind him. He moved toward the door with his weapon raised.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” 

The voice wasn’t coming from the room, but behind them in the hall. As if caught red handed, they both turned slowly to meet Dougal MacKenzie’s shadowed form.

“Just walkin’ Claire tae her room, is all,” Jamie answered. “Claire, th’ gun isnae loaded,” Jamie whispered as he shoved Claire into the room. “Stay put,” he ordered and hoped she would lock the door after he slammed it shut.

“Dougal, what are ye doin’ here?” Jamie asked, pretending to be none the wiser.

“I forgot somethin’ in my room,” he lied.

“Och, did ye retrieve it then?”

“Oh, aye, I did.” 

“What’s wi’ th’ pistol, Jamie?” When Jamie stammered in response, Dougal continued. “Alright, then, let’s stop wi’ the charade.” 

“Dougal, man, I’ve underestimated ye. I willnae be doin’ that today.”

“What are ye goin’ tae do? Shoot yer own uncle?”

“I might just.” 

“All I’ve ever done was fer you, Jamie. I dinna ken what th’ sassenach has told ye but she would ha’ ruined everything ye’ve worked so hard for.”

“Claire isnae here fer me, Dougal. She’s here fer Brianna – our daughter, ye recall? Which brings me tae my real question: Why are you here?” 

“Claire,” Dougal called out in a sing-songy voice. “Why don’t ye come out an’ join us?”

The knob was turning then and Jamie wasn’t quick enough to stop her. She emerged from the room with a venomous “Fuck you,” shot in Dougal’s direction. 

Jamie reached out to push Claire behind him again, while Dougal reached for his own pistol. Upon seeing the weapon, Jamie stood taller. 

“Put the gun down,” Jamie ordered.

“Ye first,” Dougal responded. Jamie hadn’t even realized he was pointing his weapon at him. He was focused on something else, just over his shoulder.

“Please, Uncle. I’ll do whatever ye ask of me. Just put the gun down. Leave Claire alone.” 

“Whatever I want, eh? Ye ken, maybe I’ve been goin’ about all of this wrong. If only I had kent it would be sae easy tae manipulate ye wi’ her standin’ here.”

“You’re not manipulating him. He’s playing you.”

Before Claire could finish calling him an “arrogant fucking bastard,” Brianna was behind him, hitting him over the head with an expensive lamp.

It wasn’t enough to take him down, but it was enough for Jamie to get the upper hand. Brianna ran to Claire, who was bending over to pick up Dougal’s dropped weapon. Dougal had Jamie by the neck when Claire fired a warning shot into the door of the adjacent guest room. Both men looked up at her from the floor as she screamed at the top of her lungs, “STOP!” 

Standing behind Claire was Murtagh and Roger, both out of breath and disheveled. 

“It’s over, Dougal,” she said, pointing the gun at her target.

“Is it?” He asked, reaching for the other pistol. 

He pulled the trigger. So she did too.

Brianna crumpled to the ground before her brain was able to process what happened. 

Claire was still standing until she fell to her knees next to Bree to bring her into her chest. “It’s okay, I’m okay,” she whispered and kissed the crown of her head.

Jamie let go of his uncle’s shallow breathing body and crossed the hall where he too fell to his knees next to Bree and brought both curly heads into his own to breathe them in.

“It’s over,” he said, reaffirming Claire’s earlier words. 

Roger was shocked into silence while Murtagh inspected Dougal’s body. “He’s still alive,” he said to Claire. “Do ye want me tae finish the job?”
“No, Murtagh, I don’t want that. I... want justice...and I want to move on.”

Jamie couldn’t help but note the way she said “move on.” She was exhausted. 

A few long moments passed before Mary was bringing police officers into the hall. The group, save Dougal, was escorted downstairs by Detective Logan McDonald as the hallway was turned into a crime scene. In the living room, the detective stood silently, watching as the First Minister interacted softly with the others. In the background, Dougal was rolled out of the house on a stretcher. 

The detective cleared his throat and shifted his posture. “Eventually, I will need tae start takin’ statements. We cannae do it all together. Let me ken who would like tae be first.” 

“I’ll go first,” Jamie said. 

“Thank ye, Sir,” he said, sounding a bit nervous. 

While Jamie was gone, Brianna and Claire sat holding hands. They must have thought they were whispering, but Roger could make out pieces of what they were saying. 

“What if he doesn’t love me anymore?” Claire asked, sounding insecure for the first time since he’s met her. 

“Mama! It’s now or never!” Bree declared passionately. He would be surprised if Mary didn’t hear that part.

Roger couldn’t believe the evening’s traumatic experience didn’t deter Bree from her matchmaking plot. She was incredible.

An hour later, after they all had corroborated each other's stories, the Detective seemed satisfied. “We will be followin’ up with all of ye tomorrow. And we will be reaching out to the NCA. Until then, we will leave a car and two officers here at the residence.”

“Aye, sounds good tae me. Thank ye,” he said, shaking the detective’s hand. 

As the commotion was clearing out the front door, Mary began pouring drams of whisky. She handed the first one to Claire, who was the most shaken. 

“Thank ye, Mary. I’d like ye tae have th’ rest o’ th’ week off,” Jamie said as he took the next glass.

“Sir, I couldn’t possibly–” she started to shrug off the offer but Jamie would not let her. She gave in, nodding before making her way out of the room.

Brianna was taller than her mother, but somehow found a way to make herself comfortable in her lap. Jamie watched them intently, scared to look away should they disappear from the living room couch.

Though the threat was gone, the tension in the room had not dissipated. Roger decided to speak up to cut through it. 

“Bree, would ye mebbe walk wi’ me a bit?” He asked. She looked at her mother first, who nodded to say “go on,” before answering him. She carefully lifted herself off of Claire, pressed a kiss to her forehead, then took Roger’s hand.

Jamie stood against a wall, arms crossed. He looked like he was about to go to war. “I’ll keep an eye on them,” Murtagh said to Brianna’s parents. Then added quietly, only to Jamie, “Take care o’ Claire, I’m worried about her.”
Once they were gone, Jamie beckoned for Claire to follow him. “Let’s go upstairs and rest a bit,” he said. She made her way to her feet slowly. 

As he did earlier, he let her into the room first. 

Just steps in, she turned to him. “I can’t believe you were bluffing! With an empty pistol!”

He ignored her. He had something else on his mind. “Did ye mean what ye said earlier?” he asked.

“What did I say?” she asked, truly not knowing what he was referring to. 

“That ye didn’t want tae be safe... that ye wanted to be wi’ me,” he said, locking their eyes.

“Jamie… I… just meant… I didn’t want you to be alone,” she brought her bottom lip into her mouth with her teeth. 

“Oh,” he said, defeated. “So ye do mean tae be moving on?”

“What?” 

“Claire…” he breathed, closing the distance between them. Their bodies were close enough to produce a static charge. Her skin felt hot, burning, pulsing everywhere. “Jamie, we can’t,” she said but didn’t move a muscle.

“What do ye mean?” he said, bringing his hands to rest on her hips.

She gulped, twisting her neck away. She fixated on a small tassel hanging from a pillow on the bed though her sight was blurring due to forming tears.“It’s not... right… You have a life here.”

He let go of her hips, lifting his hands to her face, bringing her focus back to him. He was red and shaking his head.

“Sassenach, you are my life.  The truest part of me. All these years, I’ve been living as half a man. Living only fer my sister and the weans – fer the duty of my country. When Bree showed up, it felt like I was coming back tae life. When ye walked into this house, my heart started beating again.” 

“But… Laoghaire… And your daughters…”

“Did I no understand why ye married Frank?” 

She nodded and swallowed a sob.

“Weel, I can explain why I thought I should marry Laoghaire. I promise ye, it wasnae fer love.” 

Her head was spinning as he popped her bottom lip under his thumb. “Claire, I havenae asked ye fer anythin’ ye couldnae give me but I am beggin’ ye tae gi’ me yer body.” He dragged a finger down her neck, tracing her collar bone. “I need ye, mo ghraidh.” 

She wondered briefly if this confession would have happened had Dougal not threatened her life in front of him. But she would never know the answer, and she wasn’t sure if she really cared. His presence alone had breathed life into a part of herself she thought was long dead. She thought she might truly die if she didn’t let him touch her.

“Lock the door,” she said. He did. 

Worried she would lose her nerve, she started pulling off her cardigan before he made it back to her. When he stood in front of her again, she was wearing nothing but a thin nightgown that was slipping off of her shoulders and barely fell past her knees. 

“I havenae done this in a verra long time,” he said. 

“Kiss me, Jamie,” she smiled as she leaned into him. She expected him to be ravenous, based on his declaration of need for her but instead, his kiss was soft and slow. She allowed herself a moment to savor the feeling of his lips on hers. Tiny sparks fired in her brain as she grew frustrated with his tempo. She wanted to taste him. When she couldn’t take it anymore, she pulled back.

“Jamie, are you holding back?” she asked. She needed more.

“Why do ye say that?” 

“You’re being very gentle with me,” she said. “Very unlike you, if my memory serves me.” 

“I just dinnae want tae scare ye. The last time we were together, it was…” 

“Oh,” she knew what he meant. She had thought about that night often: the bruises, the ache he left inside of her. “Jamie, I wanted it that way. I was hurting so much and I knew that I was going to hurt you… I just wanted to feel you for as long as I could.” 

“Oh,” he said. So much of his perspective of the last two decades of his life, and his relationship with Claire had shifted in the last few days. This was just another revelation for him.

“Jamie, I want you so badly,” she said, pulling at the hem of his t-shirt. “Let me see you, please.”

He pulled his shirt off from the back of his neck and tossed it to the floor. She reached out to touch his solid pale chest. “Beautiful,” she said before reaching to lift her nightgown over her own head. 

“Beautiful,” he said, in awe of her naked body. He reached out to touch the scars on her belly. “Ye’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen Claire.” 

His hands itched for more as she guided him to cup her breast. Wetting her lips, she pulled him into her and their tongues danced together, exploring and tasting each other. He wasn’t gentle. This time, he took everything she offered to him. Together, they stepped backwards until she felt the back of her legs hit the bed. 

Gently, he pushed her to sit down, then craned his neck to kiss her again. “Take these off,” she said to him, regarding his sweatpants. “These look great on you, by the way. I’ve found myself quite fond of your arse in sweats.”

“Amid all of the chaos, ye found yerself admiring my arse, huh?”

“Aye,” she said, swatting him on the bum. “Now I’m admiring something else.” 

He looked down at his visible hard on. “Hmm, verra admirable indeed,” he said, pulling at the elastic to remove the final barriers between them. She reached for the length of him, stroking him a few times and then pressed her lips to his tip. 

“I need ye, Claire.” 

“I know. I need you too. So much.” She ungracefully maneuvered herself further backwards into the unmade bed where she had been sleeping just hours ago. “See for yourself,” she said, letting her legs fall apart. He crawled to meet her and swiped his fingers between her folds, grazing her center. “Ye’re ready for me, then?” 

“Yes,” she whined as he dipped a finger, then two, inside. He pumped, as she continued to whine. “Please, Jamie.” 

He removed his fingers and turned his attention to her belly, where he placed a kiss on one of the scars he had been admiring earlier. Moving further up, he placed a wet kiss on her sternum before he brought a nipple into his mouth with his teeth. 

“Jamie, please!” She yelled, begging him, but she knew, this is exactly what he wanted. He was being driven mad by her wanting. He swiped his tongue along a vein in her neck, finding her pulse. He was able to nip her gently before she lifted her hands up to grab his face, and bring it to hers. “Jamie, do it now,” she ordered. Before sliding into her, he gave her another open-mouthed kiss on the lips. “Oh Claire,” he moaned, over and over, hovering just above her. One of her hands gripped his arse as he thrusted, while the other went white-knuckled grabbing at the sheets.

Despite the years apart, they were happily surprised to learn that their bodies were not unfamiliar with each other. None of the lies, complications or danger mattered here. They were simply lovers who desperately needed to be joined again.  

Warmth captured them. Jamie swiped his tongue across her forehead, where droplets of sweat were pooling. She giggled at the sensation, but then followed suit, licking just above his top lip. The saltiness reminded her of something else she very much wanted to taste again. He paused his movements and smiled, unknowingly thinking of the same.

His pause gave her a chance to maneuver her leg to hook around his waist. With the new angle and a particularly deep thrust, an unbridled scream escaped Claire's throat. Noted, he continued on in the same way until she fell apart. Her jaw fell unhinged and she was buzzing from her head to her toes. Once she told him to “let go,” Jamie let out chaotic grunts, then went boneless on top of her. She welcomed the weight of him and whined when he rolled away. She didn’t have time to voice her complaint, because he immediately pulled her to him and entwined their fingers. 

“You know, our daughter told me earlier that it was now or never ,” Claire smiled into his chest as she recalled how passionately Brianna had encouraged her to follow her heart.

“Ye talked to our daughter about makin’ love tae me?” 

“No!” she swatted him. “Just about… telling you the truth…” 

“And what’s that?” 

“I love you, Jamie Fraser.”

“Ah, ye do?” he asked cheekily, so she swatted him again. 

“I love ye, Sassenach,” he breathed into her ear. “I always have,” he kissed her nose. “I am verra glad ye told me now, instead of never.”

Chapter Text

Claire was warm. Maybe warmer than she had ever been. Her eyes cracked open to a dimly lit room. Something heavy draped over her middle, preventing her from moving. For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine it was Jamie’s arm hugging her into him. As she had done many times in the past, she screwed her eyes shut and reminded herself that she would likely never see Jamie again. And if she did, he would hate her. So, she attempted to rip herself from the unfamiliar bed.

“Sassenach, what are ye doin’? Dinnae leave me just yet, the sun isnae even up,” she heard a familiar voice call out to her from the darkness.

“Jamie?” she asked, turning back to the bed. She knelt on the edge and forced her eyes to focus. “You’re real?” 

“I think so,” he said.

She touched his face with her fingertips and let out a sob. “Oh God, you don’t know how many times I imagined waking up next to you… only to realize…” 

“Mo ghraidh,” he cut her off and reached for her. “I’m here… ye dinnae need to imagine anythin’ anymore.” 

“Hold me,” she said, though it was unnecessary as he was already pulling her into him to spoon her with the solid warmth of his entire body.

“What are we going to do now?” she asked, anxiously. 

“Shh,” he quieted her words, but not her thoughts. “Let us save th’ worries fer when th’ sun is up.” 

She wished she could be still with the simple knowledge that he was here, holding her, but it wasn’t enough. She twisted out of his grip to face him, and he opened his eyes to meet hers. “Claire?” he whispered. “What do ye need?” 

She gulped and hooked her leg over his hip. With her heel, she pulled him closer. She hoped her gesture would speak for itself. 

“Sassenach, do ye want me to love ye, then?” he asked, as he innocently twirled a stray gray curl around his index finger.

“Jamie,” she responded, nuzzling his nose. “I always want you to love me.” 

“I need you to convince me that this is real,” she added with a long, dry kiss to his lips. 

“It’s real. I’m real. Ye’re real. Bree is real. We are real,” he said. With each pause, he kissed a new spot on her neck. She moaned when he reached the base of it, so he continued on, silently placing wet kisses down the center of her body until he reached her mound. 

Her breath hitched as he placed a light kiss there too. Unconsciously, her pelvis lifted slightly, chasing his lips. He took that as an invitation to stay right where he was. With his hands, he spread her thighs apart as he brought his tongue out of his mouth. She focused on her breathing as he sucked on her. A few exaggerated licks coupled with two of his fingers finding her center had her scraping hard at his scalp. He didn’t complain, nor did he stop for a second. When she thought she couldn’t take anymore, his fingers took over for his tongue, drawing quick delicate circles until she fell over the invisible edge. Swallowing hard, she closed her eyes and allowed her entire body to sink into the mattress. “Jamie…” she tried to say. 

“Was that real enough for ye?” he asked her after licking his fingers clean. 

“That wasn’t real. That was magic,” she said laughing. 

“Weel, I happen tae believe in magic, mo ghraidh,” he said, kissing her lips.

They made love to each other until the sun did finally rise for the day. 

At 9 a.m, Claire’s phone was buzzing and glowing with Brianna’s name and face. She took a moment to catch her breath before sitting up, pulling the sheets up over her chest and answering the call. 

“Bree? What’s going on, darling?” she asked, confused and slightly concerned as to why she was calling so early from inside the house.

“Well, I’m glad you’re alive! I just went to what Mary said was your room and you weren’t there! Are you okay? Where are you?” 

“Um…” she hesitated, looking at Jamie who was looking back at her, not offering any help. “I’m…” She couldn’t, for the life of her, come up with a decent lie to tell her daughter. 

“Oh my God... No way!” Brianna squealed. Claire hoped that wherever she was calling from, she was alone.

“No… it’s not what you think,” Claire said, trying to maintain a calm cadence. 

“What do I think, Mama?” she egged her on. 

“I don’t know. You’re very imaginative,” she said. 

“Did you sleep with Jamie?” Bree asked, point blank and Claire could do nothing but stammer while her face flushed. Before she could stop him, Jamie took the phone from her hand. “Bree, yer mother is fine. I’ll thank ye to keep her whereabouts between us. We will see ye later.” With an “I love ye,” he hung up the phone and reached over Claire to place it on his nightstand. 

“Oh God!” Claire brought both hands up to cover her face. “This is why I asked you what we should do! I’m a terrible liar.” 

“I ken that,” he said, reaching to remove her hands to place a kiss on her furrowed brow before rolling away. “It will all be okay, I promise ye. I will have a talk wi’ Laoghaire whenever she returns from the city.”

“How do you think that will go?” 

“If I may be honest? Not well. She is verra committed tae th’ idea of bein’ married tae me.” 

“I don’t blame her,” Claire said, scooching closer to him. “And you? You are not so committed to the idea?” 

“Do ye want tae hear th’ truth of it, Claire?” 

“I think so…” she said, though she was worried how she might react to hearing about their relationship.

“I never wanted tae marry again, Claire. If I had it my way, I would ha’ been living in a cave by myself.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” she said, hoping he was joking a bit. While it made her sick to think of Jamie with someone else, it broke her heart to think of him alone forever. It made no logical sense, but then again, things between them never were logical. 

“Jenny introduced me tae Laoghaire nearly five years ago now,” Jamie recalled. “We were at a Hogmany party at Lallybroch. Everyone was dancing, save me and Ian. In th’ middle of it all were two small lasses jumping around, smiling so wide it was contagious. They must ha’ noticed me smilin’ and watchin’ because soon they pulled me intae the middle tae join ‘em.” 

Her eyes were welling at the idea of Jamie dancing with Marsali and Joan. She couldn’t help but think of Brianna, specifically a night she came home from a friend’s sweet 16 sobbing about how she would never get a chance to dance with her own father. Jamie didn’t mention the tears, instead he wiped at one that fell, and continued his story.

“Later on that evening, Jenny made it verra clear that she intended tae set me up wi’ Laoghaire. I brushed it off fer as long as I could but then she invited her tae a family dinner without tellin’ me. Eventually, I gave in and asked her out properly.”

Claire nodded at him to keep going.

“The date was awkward and I didnae ask fer a second. Mostly because I could tell she was lookin’ fer a husband. I didnae think that I would be able tae, in good conscience, fulfill that role.”

“But something changed…” she deduced.

“Aye,” he reluctantly admitted. “Years went by before I saw her again. She showed up at our Christmas Gala last year on the arm of her friend Geneva, whom ye met briefly, if ye recall… Apparently Geneva’s husband, who serves in parliament, was ill and sent her along without him. When we met this time, it wasnae as awkward. I thought it was mebbe a sign that I should ha’ tried harder wi’ her. We danced together a bit...and after, I couldnae get my family tae let the idea of th' match w’ her go. Jenny was going on about how good we looked together... my uncles were going on about how much better it would be for re-election if I were married. The only person who didnae say a word about it was Murtagh. So, I asked her out again.”

“Did you…” 

“Aye, Claire. We slept together a few times but…” 

“I wasn’t going to ask that! It’s not like I expected you to be celibate the last 19 years! I was going to ask if… if you fell in love with her.”

“Och, no. Claire, I told ye, I didnae ask her tae marry me out of love. It was out of duty. After a few dates, it became verra clear that she was only lookin’ for someone tae take care o’ her and her daughters. I thought I could do that just fine. I admit, I do care deeply fer Marsali and Joan.”

“So you never…?” She couldn’t bring herself to ask the question. Had he fallen in love with anyone after she left him? 

“Claire,” he said directly, lifting her face. “I have never loved anyone the way I love ye, and I never will.” 

Her worried frown stretched into a cautious smile he just had to kiss. 

Before she could take him and show him how much she loved him, too, forever, her phone was buzzing again. This time Jamie answered the call. “Bree, yer mother is busy at th’ moment,” he said, giggling into Claire’s neck.

“Da... Laoghaire is back!” she said whispering into the phone.

Chapter Text

Before Laoghaire could hang up on Jamie, Geneva was sitting beside her on top of the soft Queen duvet. 

After a full afternoon of shopping and dinner, they returned to their hotel to rest.  If Geneva was honest, she was exhausted from smiling so hard for the few paparazzi that showed up to follow them around today. Marsali and Joanie were already showered and were scrolling through TV channels in the adjacent suite.  Based on the few words she caught from the phone conversation and the frown lines forming on her friend’s face, Geneva could tell this was going to be a long night. 

“He... wants tae put th’ weddin’ on hold,” Laoghaire’s voice cracked open.

“What? Because of the American girl? He must be joking. Love… are you quite sure he’s worth it?” 

“Worth it? G, I’ve loved Jamie for years. O’course he’s worth it. We are meant tae be together.” 

Geneva reached out for Laoghaire’s hand and nodded for her to continue. 

“This is all that wretched girl’s fault. She appears out o’ nowhere an’ suddenly I need tae change my plans?” Laoghaire was up and pacing as a tear tracked a course through the foundation on her face. “I need tae make another call,” she sniffled after falling silent.

“Okay, once that’s done, we’ll figure something out. There’s no way I’m letting you lose this one if he’s really what you want.”

The phone was up to Laoghaire’s ear and ringing before Geneva could finish her promise.

“Oh, Laoghaire,” a growling voice answered, sounding unsurprised. “Tae what do I owe th’ honor?”

“Dougal MacKenzie, ye promised me that if I did what ye asked… I would be marrit tae Jamie by th’ end o’ th’ year… and no a month before we are even able tae announce our engagement... this long-lost daughter of his shows up?”

“She doesnae change anything.” 

“What do ye mean? I just got off the phone wi’ him. He says he needs "time"… and what of his ex-wife?”

“Who? The girl’s mother? A nighean, they were never married. I made sure o’ that a long time ago.” 

“Doesnae matter. I need ye tae tell me that her presence will no’ be causin’ any problems fer me now.”

“Claire is at th’ Country House?” He was trying to keep his shock at bay, for her sake. 

“Yes, she is at th’ house… probably cozying up by th’ fire wi’ Jamie as we speak!” 

“She willnae be a problem,” he whispered into the phone.

“Ye sound so sure,” she paused to roll her eyes, hoping he would assure her. When he didn’t, she continued, “And what of th’ teenage brat?” 

“I promised Jamie I wouldnae bother wi’ the lass. But to be sure, after I’m done wi’ Claire, ye will ha’ nothin’ tae be worrit about.” 

“I hope ye’re right, Dougal MacKenize,” she paused, allowing a chill to run down her spine. “Or I’ll tell the police everythin’ that I ken.” 

Uttering the words, she wasn’t even sure if she meant them. After all, she was likely in too deep herself. She hung up the phone before he could respond. Once upon a time, Laoghaire was afraid of the MacKenzie brothers. Everything changed when she found out that they were responsible for making her a widow. Her husband and father of her children, Simon MacKimmie, was the only person she truly feared. She knew he was involved with the Scottish Mafia when they wed, but had no idea that he would bring the violence into their home. 

Dressed in black, like everyone else, Dougal and Colum came to her at the funeral as friends would. Unlike everyone else, they didn’t offer shallow words of sympathy, no, they simply told her that she didn’t have to pretend to mourn in front of them. They had earned her loyalty , she thought. And in time, she earned theirs. 

Laoghaire slammed her phone onto the dresser and groaned audibly, allowing her frustration and anxieties to flow through her body.

“So...that sounded like it went well…” Geneva started after giving her a moment to collect herself. “Do you really think Jamie still fancies his ex? Even though she kept his daughter from him?” 

Laoghaire took a look at herself in the mirror and fixed a stray wisp of blonde before turning to face her friend. “I dinnae ken, G! But what I do ken is that after she left him, he closed himself off. It took years of pestering from his entire family tae even look my way. And now she’s going to tell him the truth of why she left him… and everything will be taken away from me.” 

“And what is the truth?” 

“That his uncles forced her tae leave!”

“Forced, hm? So, she’s not as strong as she seems…” Geneva said as if she was making a mental note. 

“It doesnae matter! I cannae compete wi’ his first love and child of his blood, Geneva.” 

“What did I say earlier? We’ll come up with a plan…”

“What are ye thinkin’?” She asked, curious beyond reason.

“I’m thinking this could very easily turn into a reunion story if we don’t change the narrative.”

Laoghaire stared at her with a blank expression. 

“Love, what does Jamie care most for in this world?”

“Family.”

“Yes, family... which does include you, Marsali, Joan, and now, this Brianna… and what else does he care about?”

She hesitated before answering, “Scotland.” 

“Right. So, we don't have weapons, or big threats like your MacKenzie brothers, but what we do have is the press. I think our best shot at keeping Jamie right where you want him is to manipulate his country a bit to be on your side. Let me handle Claire, darling. I’ll get my people to find some dirt on her. All I need you to do is ask Marsali to help you plan a party.”

“A party?” she asked, confused. 

“Yes, a party. Jamie may have asked you to hold off on announcing your engagement, but he never said you couldn’t throw a “Welcome to the Family” party for your soon-to-be daughter.”

Laoghaire remained confused, but didn’t dare interrupt.

“You see, everyone in Scotland is already speculating and, for the most part, rooting for the two of you to be married. It won’t be long until the photos from today go live,” she reached out for Laoghaire’s left hand to admire the diamond. “Combine those photos of you dress shopping while wearing this ring with you publicly playing World’s Best Stepmum…and… voila! You didn’t have to announce anything at all.”

“I dinnae understand…” 

“Laoghaire, we have to manipulate Scotland, to manipulate the bastard. We have to make it so that it’s a scandal for him to not marry you. The First Minister cannot abandon his fiancee and two fatherless step-children for a sassenach that took his child and left him 20 years ago,” Geneva emphasized the word sassenach, despite knowing that she was one herself.

“Weel, hopefully Dougal will take care of it like he said he would and we willnae have tae worry...”

“Darling, we can’t count on men to take care of our problems,” Geneva scoffed as she rubbed the soles of her feet, having just removed her heels for the day.

Laoghaire nodded and made her way into the shower. She wanted the hot water to comfort her in a way that no man ever had. 

In the morning, after a fitful night’s sleep, a news alert broke the news regarding Dougal’s failed attempt to handle the situation. According to the article, he was not only in the hospital recovering from a gunshot wound, but he was also under investigation by the NCA. 

“Are ye fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” Laoghaire shouted at the small screen of her phone. Before Geneva could ask, she turned the phone to show her what she was cursing about. "What the fuck do I do now?"

“Like I said, we’ll have to handle this ourselves. I think we did enough shopping yesterday, wouldn’t you say?”

“Aye, let’s go back tae the country. I would verra much like tae be there for my fiance during this trying time,” she said, placing her phone gently on the dresser, feigning calm.

Once she was dressed for the day she called out to Marsali and let her know that the plan had changed. They would return to the Country residence to spend time with Jamie and Brianna. 

“Really?! But I thought ye didnae want me to be friends wi’ her.” 

“I had a change o’ heart. I want nothin’ more than fer ye to bond wi’ yer new sister while she’s here.” 

“Ma!” she exclaimed, bringing her into a hug. “I think this will make Jamie sae happy!” 

“I think sae too,” she said with a kiss to the crown of her blonde head and then pulled away. “I was also thinkin’ maybe we can plan for a big party to welcome Brianna to the family. What do ye think?!” 

“Weel, tae be honest wi’ ye, I think a big party might scare her away...” 

“No! Why would ye say that?”

“She just doesnae seem like the type tae want tae be center of attention? Ye ken?” 

“I cannae believe ye’re sayin’ no to a party! My Marsali? Are ye okay, a leannan?”

“I think a party to bring you all together is just what your family needs right about now,” Geneva cut in from the corner of the room where she was tapping away on her smartphone. 

“No! No! No, I’m not sayin’ no. Let’s do it!”

Geneva lifted her head again, for a moment, to wink at Laoghaire who was already asking Marsali to get Joanie ready to go.

“Aye, Ma! On it,” Marsali said and turned to get her sister ready. For the first time, she was looking forward to heading back to the middle of nowhere. With her mother’s blessing, she couldn’t wait to spend time with Brianna.

“What are ye doin’ over there? You look like ye’re up to no good,” Laoghaire looked over at Geneva and then made her way to the mirror to apply a fresh face of makeup.

“I think you should probably get used to that look…” Geneva said with a smirk. “I may have just leaked the news of Brianna’s existence and Welcome to the Family Party next weekend to my contacts at The Scottish Sun.”

“What?! How am I goin’ tae explain that tae Jamie!?” Shocked, she nearly poked her eye out trying to apply mascara.

“We can just say they were chasing us down, asking about the situation with Dougal, and Marsali accidentally let it slip that she was worried about her new sister.”

“So we’re just goin’ to throw Marsali to the wolves?”

“Jamie adores her! There’s no way he can hold a grudge against the girl.”

“Alright, and what of the news of the party? Are we blamin’ Marsali fer that as well?”

“Oh, no. We have to give you full credit for that one. I’ve asked them to refer to you as "Stepmum of the Year" in their eventual write-up.” 

“I hope this doesnae backfire, G.”

“How could it? We’re controlling the narrative, love. That’s all these politicians care about.”

“That’s what has me worried. Jamie Fraser is no politician.”

“Laoghaire, don’t be naive. He’s a good man but you can’t become The First Minister of Scotland without being a politician. He might be wired a bit differently, but ultimately, they’re all the same.” 

Laoghaire silently nodded, though she remembered the look on Jamie’s face when Claire walked into the dining room just days ago. Something shifted. Though it was subtle, it was as obvious as the look on his face when he told Brianna that he believed she was his. Suddenly, she wasn’t sure that they had properly accounted for Claire’s importance in the equation. 

This might turn me intae somethin' ugly , she thought, apparently out loud. 

“It will be worth it,” Geneva answered. “To keep Jamie. You said so yourself.” 

Chapter Text

For a moment, Brianna worried it might be too early to be knocking on Roger’s door. But the moment was fleeting as she continued to rapidly tap her knuckles to the solid wood. 

“I’m comin’! I’m comin’!” she heard Roger’s tired voice approaching. 

When he opened the door to her, she barely registered his untied robe which exposed a white ribbed tank, or the chest hairs peeking through, before she grabbed him by the chin and planted a quick wet kiss to his open mouth. 

She didn’t allow him to respond to the kiss before she made her way into his room. He stayed silent as he closed the door and turned to face her. 

“Bree? What…?” he started, cautiously but was cut off.  “Roger! My parents slept together!” she tried to keep herself calm, but it was proving impossible.

“So ye kissed me because yer parents slept together?” he asked, allowing his question to appear into words as if he were thinking out loud. He had never been in a situation quite like this one before. 

“Well, no… I mean… yes. Kind of? I had been wanting to do that for a while. I just finally decided to follow my own advice.”

“And what advice was that?” he asked, inching closer to where Brianna was standing just in front of the bed. His clothes from yesterday were neatly folded, but discarded on the floor.

“To follow my heart,” she said. Reaching for a tie on his robe in an effort to be seductive. Something she had never tried to be before. She looked up at him through her eyelashes. 

“Yer heart led ye tae my front door, then?” he asked, lifting his hand to tilt her face to an angle more suitable for a kiss, she thought. 

“It appears so,” she said, leaning into him. It felt good to take charge, but she wanted to make sure this was something he also wanted, so she let him close the final centimetres of distance between them. When he finally did, she hummed into his mouth. Dropping the tie of his robe, she reached behind his head and forced him even closer. She opened her mouth to let him inside but before he took the initiative, he pulled back. Looking into her eyes, he was searching for something. She was sure all he would find was her desire for him. But apparently, she was wrong.

“Do ye want tae talk, maybe?” he asked. 

“I thought I was making it clear that I would rather be kissing you,” she replied, closing her eyes and tilting her head the same way he had before.

“Bree, I want tae talk,” he said, stopping her. 

“Okay,” she said, trying not to sound hurt by his rejection. 

“What happened wi’ yer parents?” he asked, moving towards the unmade bed. He pulled the duvet up towards the headboard and then sat in front of the neat stack of pillows. One leg hung over the side of the bed, anchoring him to the ground. 

“Well, I don’t really know. All I can say is that I called Mama this morning, when I didn’t find her in her room… and when she answered… she sounded different… she sounded happy . Who the hell sounds happy after almost getting shot?!”

“Well, maybe she was just relieved that the bastard is finally goin’ tae see justice,” Roger offered an alternate explanation, trying to manage her expectations.

“Yes, well… sure... But then Jamie took the phone from her and it sounded like they were laughing together! And I just… have a feeling,” she said excitedly, and then took a seat in front of him on the bed.

“So, is this th’ end of yer “Parent Trap” plot, then?” he smiled broadly at her, placing finger quotations around the title of what he considered a truly silly film.

“Well, I can’t be sure until I see them! They might need some more push to make it permanent. I don’t want them to try to brush it off like it was just some kind of mistake.” 

“Hmm,” he thought to himself. “Tae be sure, there are quite a few complicating factors at play here. They do live on two separate continents, fer one. And of course, there is th’ other matter of yer father bein’ engaged tae someone else.”

“Ugh! You’re right. Am I truly awful? I haven’t even thought about any of the consequences... ”

“Weel, Bree, they are no yer actions…. Yer parents are adults…” 

“But still… none of this would be happening now if it weren’t for me. If I hadn’t come to find him...” 

“Bree, I’ve seen the way yer father looks at ye, and not tae mention yer mother. He doesnae regret yer coming tae find him. I would be surprised if Laoghaire wasnae already preparing herself fer things tae change.”

“Thank you,” she said, reaching out for his hand.

“Fer what?”

“For being here, for making me feel like I’m not a terrible person,” she looked down at their intertwined hands. She wanted to tell him how not terrible he made her feel, but she wasn’t sure yet how to put those emotions into words.  

“Brianna, yer a lot o’ things. Terrible isnae one of ‘em,” he said as he brought her hand up to his mouth. 

“So you don’t hate me for kissing you like that?” 

“Nae, I’m only sorry ye were able tae work up th’ courage before I did,” he said, kissing each of her knuckles. 

“So… you’ve been thinking about kissing me?” 

“Aye, verra much. Pretty much since I saw ye struttin’ over tae me in the airport wi’ yer hair bouncing to and fro like a horse’s tail.”

She smiled at the memory of their first meeting, and all of the kindness he had shown her in the days since. “Well, are you thinking about kissing me now?”

“Aye, Bree. I am,” he said, letting go of her hand, he placed it on his thigh, right above his knee, and then leaned in to kiss her with all of the care, awe, and attraction, that he had been storing up for her the past few days. 

They didn’t part until her stomach growled louder than the sounds their mouths were making. She was laughing at herself as he asked her if she would be interested in breakfast. “Why, are you hungry?” she asked him. 

Before they made their way downstairs, he pulled on a long-sleeved maroon sweater and he kissed her quickly on the lips, once more: a promise of more to come. 

Brianna and Roger were able to make their way through a few warm rolls and over-easy eggs before they were disturbed by a stramash, (which is what Roger had called it,) in the foyer.

“Jamie!” they heard a familiar voice call, followed by the sound of rolling bags and energetic chatter.

Roger looked over at Brianna before she could look at him, but they simultaneously uttered the same name: “Laoghaire.”

With that name escaping her lips, the now familiar anxiety she had felt building in her body on her flight from Boston returned. She wouldn’t get a chance to confront her parents the way she wanted to or discuss what their plans would be going forward. Before they could move to the Foyer, Brianna dialed her mother’s phone for the second time in as many hours. This time, her mother didn’t answer. 

It was her father who answered this time, all but confirming her earlier suspicions. “Da,” she said, whispering into the phone, locking eyes with Roger. “Laoghaire is back.” 

It was a warning. She hoped it would do to prevent some of the damage that would inevitably be caused by her parents joining.

“Let’s just stay in here for a few more minutes,” Brianna said, turning her attention back to her plate of half-eaten eggs, not wanting to completely burst the safe bubble they had created. 

“Weel, maybe we should go on and distract them tae keep them from goin’ tae look for Jamie?” 

“Are you always so logical? You truly are the best sidekick a girl could ask for,” she winked at him playfully, despite wanting to throw up at the idea of facing Laoghaire just now.

"Sidekick? That's all I am tae ye?" he asked cheekily, as they pushed their chairs out. 

"Sidekick... with benefits?" she said, landing a kiss on his cheek.

Hand-in-hand, they abandoned what was left of their breakfast and made their way towards the voices. 

“Hey! You’re back!” Brianna said as they ran into the crew of ladies in the hallway. She was trying to sound half-surprised, half-pleased. She was half-successful.

“Yes! We had tae come back once we heard the news!” 

“The news?” Brianna turned to Roger, panicked. She had completely forgotten about the night prior’s events. She had too much else on her mind. 

“The break-in, Brianna… Jamie's uncle didnae hurt ye, did he?” Laoghaire answered before Roger could offer her anything. 

“Oh! Wow! No he didn’t hurt me… I don’t know why I didn’t expect it to make the news so quickly,” she said, hugging herself.

“Weel, yer Da is the First Minister…” Marsali said. “A lot of people care about him here!” 

“Yes, a lot o’ people. Including us. That’s why we had to come back! We couldnae possibly continue to shop around Edinburgh knowing what happened here last night. Was anyone else hurt? Is yer Ma okay?” Laoghaire asked, sounding genuinely concerned. Before Brianna could wonder why Laoghaire had singled out her mother, Claire made herself known. 

“I’m just fine,” she said as she approached the group with a tight smile.

To everyone else who turned to look her way, she would appear so: just fine. But to Brianna, she was something else. Something she only got glimpses of throughout her life. Though she clearly hadn’t had time to shower, (her hair was pulled up in a messy bun, her mascara was barely there, and she was wearing the same clothes she wore yesterday,) she was radiant.

Brianna wanted to focus on her mother’s soft glow, but there was something else there: a bit of worry hidden in the lines between her brows and the crinkle in her chin. 

“Weel, thank Christ, ye are!” Laoghaire said, offering Claire a weak smile. “Where’s Jamie? How is he?” she asked no one in particular.

When no one offered an answer immediately, Marsali asked again, impatiently, “Weel then, is he okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, he’s fine,” Brianna answered finally. “He’s upset, obviously… he’s probably still sleeping...” 

“Sleeping?!” Joanie spoke up, in shock. “But Da always says sleep is a waste of his time! That dreaming willnae make it real. And he makes me get up before the sun sometimes to help with the yard and stuff!” 

“He must have been verra tired. He had a long night, lass,” Roger offered wee Joanie in his kindest voice, not even realizing the connotations his words held.

Brianna and Claire did realize, however, and instinctively looked toward each other. 

“You all must be hungry from your journey from the city? Shall we eat some breakfast? I’m sure Jamie will join us when he’s ready,” Claire broke her lock on her daughter. 

“Aye, I’m sure he will,” Laoghaire responded. “However, I think I’ll go check on him just now. I’ll feel better once I see him.” 

Claire tried her best to hide her grimace, pulling her cardigan tighter to her body, but Brianna caught it. “Of course,” Claire said, defeated. 

Somewhere deep inside Brianna, there was a scream that wanted to escape. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go, she thought. They needed more time. 

“Why don’t ye go ahead and eat,” she motioned tae her daughters. “I’ll go find yer Da. Marsali, ye can tell Bree all about our idea fer her Welcome to Scotland-slash-Belated Birthday Party!”

“A party?” Brianna asked. Trying to pretend as if this wasn’t the worst possible time for a party celebrating her appearance in their lives. If they only knew… 

“Aye! A party! It’s goin’ tae be sae fun. Ma promised I could have more say which means it won’t be as boring as usual…” Marsali continued without a breath, all the way to the dining room.

Though Roger had earlier tried to assure her that she was anything but, Brianna couldn't help that she felt like a terrible person as she sat down to finish her breakfast.

Chapter Text

Jamie stepped out of his minutes-long shower to a buzzing phone. The text from Claire had said “We’re eating breakfast. Laoghaire is on her way to you.”

He couldn’t help himself from smiling at the idea that she was texting him. After all of these years, such a simple communication, a tiny gray bubble, made him feel like he was about to shatter into a million happy pieces. He wished more than anything that the context of her text had been different. He wished they could exist on their own plane, far away from this house full of responsibilities. Even if only for a wee while. 

Nothing would change how he felt for Claire, he had been sure of that for nearly 25 years. His deep-seated feelings for her were the least complicated aspect of their situation.  As he ran a towel through his dripping curls, he heard a knock on the door. A towel hung from his hips, he quickly decided that wasn’t the best way to greet his soon-to-be ex-fiancee. So, he yelled out for a minute as he pulled on fresh sweats. 

“Laoghaire,” he said evenly, as he opened the door. “I wasnae expecting ye sae soon.” He didn’t move to let her in. 

“What do ye mean, Jamie! I saw th’ news. Are ye alright?” 

“Oh! Yes, yes, I’m just fine.”

“Claire said the same thing downstairs. Is it true? No one was harmed?”

“He wasnae able tae harm anyone . Claire shot him.”
“Did she now?” 

“Aye, she did.” The pride in his voice was unmistakable.

“So what is goin’ on now?”

“Weel, both of my uncles are currently under investigation.”

He thought it might be a bit strange to her that they were still standing in the doorway, but he couldn’t invite her into the room that still smelled of him and Claire. 

“Och, Jamie, I’m sae sorry I wasnae here for ye. It must ha’ been just awful. I’m sae glad everyone is alright,” her voice was sweet and she brought her lips to his cheek.

“Aye, I am glad as well,” he said, hesitantly accepting the kiss. “Shall we go for a wee walk?” he asked as he crossed the doorframe and motioned for her to follow him through the hallway.

“Outside? It’s a dreich day!” 

“Aye, but it’s private,” he said, and she continued to follow him. 

“Laoghaire, I must talk tae ye about somethin’ verra important,” he started as they reached the foyer. Once they were bundled up, he sent a quick text to Claire to let her know he was taking Laoghaire for a walk. Based on their earlier discussions, he hoped she knew he meant tae tell her the engagement was off.

“Weel, alright.” Laoghaire said as they descended the front steps. “But I have somethin’ tae tell ye first…” he stopped in front of the house and stared blankly at her, waiting for her go on. “Marsali and I have decided tae throw yer Brianna a wee party tae celebrate her 18th birthday and welcome her to the family.” 

“Wait, what?” This was certainly not how he was expecting the conversation to go.

“Aye, I wasnae sure how long she would be staying wi’ us so we decided tae throw it next weekend. We hope she can stay that long!” 

If he was honest, he hadn’t thought about Brianna leaving. It was foolish, tae be sure, she did have a life back in Boston… but she could have a life here too. Before he could let himself think on it further, Laoghaire tapped him on the shoulder.  “Are ye even listening tae me?” 

“Sorry! I just wasn’t expecting this, Laoghaire. Is now the best time for a party? Wi’ everythin’ goin’ on? I’m no sure…” 

“O’ course it is! We need tae show Scotland that our family is strong and I think Bree deserves a proper welcome! Besides, we’ve already told the press, so we cannae back out now!” “Laoghaire!” He sounded as if he were scolding a child. “What do ye mean ye told the press?”
“Weel, it all happened sae fast. After news broke about the break-in, journalists were approaching us in Edinburgh, calling our hotel room. Marsali let it slip that she was concerned fer her new sister and then the flood gates were open. She didnae mean tae tell them about Brianna but ye ken how she is!” He did ken Marsali to be a free spirit, but she was never reckless with her words in public. Laoghaire continued, with barely a breath. “I want tae take credit fer th’ party idea but it was truly Geneva’s. Ye ken how she is... she used tae work in public relations before she was married. She thought a party would be a great deflector. And I agreed, because I wanted tae do something kind fer the lass.” 

He didn’t know how to respond, so he didn’t. Instead he brought his warm hands to his chilled face, in an attempt to hide his frustrated expression from the woman standing in front of him.

“Are ye upset wi’ me?”

“No, no, no’ with ye.” 

How could he be upset with her? It appeared that she was trying to make a terrible situation better. The only person he could be upset with was himself. And the way the world around him was shaping out to be. 

“Weel, okay that’s settled, Marsali and I will take care o’ everything. Right down tae a dress for Brianna!” Moving away from the cobblestone path that led to the house, they were silent for a few moments before Laoghaire remembered why he had brought her outside in the first place. “What was it that ye want tae talk tae me about?”

“Och...umm...just our phone call, I wanted to apologize fer th’ way we left things. But… what I said hasn’t changed. I need some time tae figure things out.”

“I didnae tell anyone about our engagement, Jamie.” 

“Aye. Can we keep it that way? I just dinnae think now is the best time for us tae be jumpin’ intae a marriage. Wi’ Dougal and Colum and Brianna and Claire… it’s all too much.” 

“What does all of that have tae do wi’ us? Dougal and Colum will be brought tae justice soon. And I will accept Brianna as my own, as ye do with my girls. I’m trying tae show ye, and th’ world, that wi’ this party!” 

“Laoghaire…”

“Is it Claire, then?” She asked, her eyes watering. She knew the answer. 

“I love her.” 

“So what is it Jamie, do ye not want me tae tell people we’re engaged... or do ye not want tae be engaged?”

“I… wasnae expecting this tae happen. Fer her tae come back tae me. Having her back, it changes things fer me.”

“Are ye feckin’ kiddin’ me? She hasnae been back more than 48 hours and yer ready tae throw everythin’ away? She left ye! And she kept yer daughter from ye fer 18 years! How could ye be in love wi’ a woman like that?” 

“Laoghaire, ye dinnae ken the truth of it.”

“Aye, I ken enough. Her husband died, so now she’s decided tae steal mine...”

“She’s no stealin’ anything. I’ll ask ye tae no talk about her like that. Ye dinnae understand.”

“Jamie, ye cannae do this. Ye’re goin’ tae ruin yer career, yer entire life, fer this woman? Have ye even discussed what yer life would look like if ye were together?”

“Weel, no, but...” 

“Jamie, ye should give yerself some time tae really think on this. Like ye said, there’s so much goin’ on. I’m no eedjit. I ken ye were never in love wi’ me. But I think we do just fine together. I love ye, Jamie and I love our family together.”

“I do too...” He did, in fact, love her daughters as if they were his own. They didn’t give him much choice in the matter, with the way they weaseled their way into his heart. He had once wanted nothing more than tae be a good husband and father. He thought they were his final chance. But, he was wrong. “It’s just… ” 

“Jamie,” she cut him off. “Let me throw this party for Brianna, it’s too late tae cancel it. It would crush Marsali. Not tae mention the press coverage would be just awful. Give yerself th’ week. Think about what ye want yer future tae be.” 

Laoghaire was gone from his line of sight before he could say a word in response regarding his future. With the press involved, he knew there would be much pressure from his cabinet to confirm the engagement and keep up a strong, happy, family facade, especially while his uncles faced trials for their very serious crimes. If it was just him, he would run inside, take Claire by the hand and escape from this place on horseback. But it wasn’t just him. It was Claire, Bree, Laoghaire, Marsali, Joan, Murtagh, Jenny, Ian, the weans, and… his country. How would he be remembered by Scotland if he were to just run away? How would he be perceived if he were to break off his engagement now? He wished he didn’t have to care about these trivial things, but after years as a politician, he learned better. There were too many hearts involved in his decisions going forward. Too many lives would be affected. 

While he had a decent relationship with the press, his story with Claire was severely complicated, full of pain and misunderstandings and to put it simply: he didn’t trust them to tell it right. If they were to move forward together, they needed to find a way to explain enough of what happened to protect Claire from coming under fire. 

He pulled his phone out to text Claire. “Where are you?” he asked.

“In my proper guest room. Getting washed up.” Good, he thought, she can avoid running intae Laoghaire fer now. Then he allowed himself to imagine her standing, naked, under the shower, as he had done not long ago. Allowing the water to wash away their sins. 

“How did it go?” she texted again. Maybe she wasnae in the shower, then.

He made his way into the house and up the stairs toward her guest room without notice.

“Claire?” he simultaneously knocked, and called out for her at the door. 

“Jamie,” her voice was quieted by distance, but he heard her and was opening the door as she said “Come in.” 

He found her in the bathroom, but not standing in the shower. She was sitting in the bath, surrounded by tiny bubbles.  

“I cannae tell ye… how beautiful ye look…” He knelt next to the clawfoot tub, not caring about the puddle of water soaking his knees. 

She brought her hands up to her head to smooth the crown of frizz forming thanks to the humid air. He reached out to trace the skin of her breasts peeking out from the water line.

“Jamie,” she meant it as a warning, but he didn’t stop exploring the lines of her body. He moved his attention to her nose. Her nose was innocent enough, he thought. That earned him a sweet smile. 

He knew she used to take baths when she was feeling particularly stressed, which made sense given their current circumstances. It upset him to think that he was only going to add to her stress with the news of his conversation with Laoghaire. So, he decided he would hold off for now. Instead, he rolled up his sleeves, reached for the handshower and turned it on.

“Let me help ye feel good, mo nighean donn,” he said, beckoning for her to sit up toward the middle of the tub. He began spraying her curls and running his fingers through each one. “Do ye have conditioner?” he asked. Her eyes were closed as she responded “Hmm?” Once the question registered, she opened her eyes and pointed to the nearby table. He handed the hose to Claire for safekeeping as he reached for the bottle from his spot on the floor. He squirted some of the liquid into his palm and then worked it through each curl. Taking his time to scrub her scalp with his fingertips earned him a few delicious moans. Taking the hose from Claire again, he watched as the white liquid ran from her head, down her back, and disappeared into the soapy water. 

“Sit back,” he said, then aimed the handshower towards her middle. “Can I make ye feel good this way?” he asked. Had she ever tried this herself?

“Yes,” she said as she planted her feet, her knees popping up for air. He pointed the stream lower until he was satisfied with the look on her face. She grabbed onto the sides of the tub to hold herself steady as his blue gaze bore into her. 

Just watching the subtle reactions, he was throbbing with need. Her noises were certainly not helping matters, but he was determined to see her to completion this way.

When he adjusted the setting on the head, she jerked out of the water, sending an overflow of bubbles to the floor. “Jamie,” she panted. “I want you inside me.” 

“No, I want tae watch ye,” he lied. He wanted nothing more than to be selfish in this moment, to take what he needed from her. But he couldn’t. 

When she finally let go, her back arched so that her breasts were fully out of the water. 

“So beautiful,” he said, admiring her. While she was smiling at the ceiling, he moved to put the hose back. 

“That was nice,” she said. Reaching for him to face her.“Better than nice. To what do I owe the pleasure? It either went really well, or really bad with Laoghaire.” 

“We’re goin' tae figure it out together.” 

“I trust you, Jamie.”

He really hoped she did, because he was under no impression that what was to come would be easy. Especially for her. He placed a kiss on the top of her head, which now smelled of coconuts.

“I love ye,” he said. “Finish washing, then we’ll talk.”

Chapter Text

Not ten minutes after Jamie left her smiling in the tub, Claire emerged from the bathroom where she found him sitting on the edge of her made bed. She knew by the look on his face that whatever was about to happen definitely wouldn’t feel as good as what had just occurred between them.

As she flipped her head over to plop her hair dry with her towel, he asked her what would be first of many tough questions. “Sassenach… what does our future look like tae ye?” 

She felt her entire body go rigid at the thought of her future. For so long, her plans didn’t include the love of her life. They couldn’t. So, now she didn’t know how to think of her future with him. She hadn’t had enough time to retrain her brain. 

“Well, I’m not sure…” she started, because that’s how she felt: unsure about everything. “Bree and I have a life back in Boston. We have a home, friends… I have a job that I love…”

“So ye want tae go back tae Boston?” he asked hastily, not even realizing he was cutting her off.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying… I’m just trying to start a conversation.”

“I cannae leave Scotland, Claire. I’m the First Minister.”

“I know that,” she assured him. “I’m just saying that we have a life to consider, too.” Claire could feel the conversation drifting off-course. Her heart was screaming at her to pump the breaks. To stop heading in this direction. To say that all she cared about was being with him. But her brain, ever the protector, was preventing her.

“I’m sure ye can find another job here...”

She didn’t know how to respond. On one hand, she was thrilled that he wanted her to move to Scotland, but on the other, unsettled by his seemingly flippant suggestion.

“Is that what you want? For me to find a job?” she asked, hesitating before she continued to drift, this time into oncoming traffic. “Or would you prefer I stay home and play housewife?” 

This wasn’t fair to say to him, she knew. Jamie had never made her feel insecure about her goals or passions. Those insecurities were coming from years of consistently disappointing Frank as his wife, from Dougal telling her she wasn’t a good fit for his nephew, from a society that told her she was somehow less of a mother for finding joy in her work.

“No, o’ course not,” he was offended, and his best facial features were turning red in defense.

“Are you sure? Isn’t that partly why you thought Laoghaire would be a decent choice to marry?” 

Do you want a fight, Beauchamp? She asked herself.

“I dinnae care about Laoghaire,” he stood up then and made his way toward her in two long strides. “Sassenach,” he said, lifting her chin, forcing their eyes to meet. “I’m talkin’ about us.” 

“Oh, you don’t care about her?” She pulled away from his grasp. “Then why couldn’t you break off your engagement?” 

“I.. It’s not that simple, Claire.” 

“So, I’m right. You didn’t do it,” she scoffed. 

“If it was just ye an’ me… things would be different. This is all happenin’ sae fast… she asked for time, I could at least give her that.”

“What does she need time for? To accept reality?”

“Nae, she only asked that I wait tae make a decision until after the party she’s throwing fer Brianna. I am inclined to agree, because of the press…” 

“The press?”

“Aye, there’s sae much goin’ on. They ken about Brianna. They ken about Dougal and Colum. The engagement between me and Laoghaire is all but confirmed by my office… I just want tae protect ye from them.”

“I don’t give a fuck about the media, Jamie. I’ve lived half of my life in fear at this point. I shot my demon in the gut. I think I can handle a bit of internet criticism…” she inched closer to him now. “Or is it you that can’t handle it?”

“It’s no just about criticism! It’s about protecting you and our family from those vultures!”

He sounded so genuinely concerned, all she wanted to do was reach out to him with her hands and soothe him, tell him that of course, she could wait. I’ve already waited nearly 20 years, what was another week? But she couldn’t force the words out. Instead, she retreated.

“Maybe I should go home while you figure this out… I don’t want to be in the way. I can’t just wait around here...”

“No, Claire. Please, dinnae leave me. I want ye tae stay for Brianna’s party…” 

I want to stay Forever, she thought.

“Jamie, I don’t want to leave you but I also don’t want to make this harder on everyone. From what you’ve shared with me about Laoghaire… she seems like a kind person. And now I’ve gone and become something I’ve hated.”

“What do ye mean?” he asked, stuck on her latest revelation.

“I mean that I’ve been cheated on, Jamie. Frank cheated on me. Frequently. I constantly felt betrayed, but also guilty because I knew I wasn’t the right person for him. That the right person was still out there. Now, I’m on the other side of it and... it feels just as bad.”

“I’m sorry I put ye in this position, mo ghraidh… but I cannae be sorry that ye came back tae me. I am no sorry for lovin’ ye so.” 

Some of the anger and guilt she was desperately trying to hold onto melted away at his words, how could it not? She knew exactly how he felt. She couldn’t truly be sorry for her actions because then she would have to be sorry for who she was. Loving Jamie was simply part of her being. 

When she was silent for a time, he spoke again.“Do ye… do ye think if Frank hadnae died ye wouldha ever made it back tae me?”
“What kind of question is that?” she asked, shocked he was trying to raise anger in her again. What she didn’t understand was that, due to their parting, he held severe insecurities too.

“I just was wondering... if maybe ye were still married now, ye wouldnae ha’ bothered coming here… following Bree…  tae see me. ” 

“Do you think all this time I was staying away because I couldn’t be bothered?”

“Nae… Claire, I ken why ye felt ye had tae stay away. It just… doesnae make it hurt any less.” 

“Jamie, I wish more than anything that things happened differently… that I was strong enough then to fight back.”

Jamie went silent, he wouldn’t say how badly he wished it too. The depth of the wounds to their souls were well hidden. 

When he stayed silent too long… she continued in defense of herself. “It’s not like you came after me! How could you think I actually wanted to leave you? Did you have no faith in me, in us, at all?” By the time she finished spitting her half-hearted allegation, she was crying.

At the sight of her tears, Jamie couldn’t resist closing the chasm between them. He took her into his arms and rubbed her back to the rhythm of her breathing. He gradually slowed his pace, hoping it would encourage the same from her lungs.

“All that time…” she breathed into his chest. “I spent most of my days praying that Brianna would be safe… that you would be safe. But I also prayed that you would come find us.” 

He pulled away enough to look her in her eyes. “ I had no idea…mo ghraidh” 

“I can’t leave you again, Jamie,” she said, bringing herself back into his warmth.

Kissing the crown of her still damp head, he said, “Weel, good, ‘cause I wasnae goin’ tae let ye.” 

His phone had been buzzing quite frequently in his front pocket throughout their conversation, but this time she felt it too. At the vibration, she pulled back again and gave him an inquisitive look. After pulling it out, he showed her the name and photo that popped up on his screen. Before he answered, she knew that despite their current position, he wouldn’t let it go to voicemail.

“Janet?”

“Ah he is alive! James Alexander Malcom MacKenzie Fraser... If I wasnae nursin’ a wee bairn I would be there in person tae scold ye properly just now. I need ye tae explain tae me what in God’s name is goin’ on! Why does all of Scotland ken about my own family before I do? Ye think I might like tae ken that yer apparently engaged tae be married? That my own uncles are verra dangerous criminals? Or... how about how I have an American teenager for a niece?”

"I... can explain," he said, rather timidly, into the phone.

"Weel fer yer sake, I hope ye can!" Claire heard Jenny's once familiar, sisterly voice shout through the phone. 

Chapter Text

“Where do ye want me tae start?” Jamie asked his sister.

“How about ye tell me how it is that ye have a daughter that ye didnae ken about?”

“Her name is Brianna Ellen Beauchamp… Randall,” he said. Dragging out the last of her names, despite its inevitability.

“Brianna… Ellen… Beauchamp,” she paused, recognizing more than one of the names. “Claire,” she whispered.

“Aye, Claire,” he said, locking eyes with the mother of his child who still stood in front of him.

“I have sae many questions, brother. I kent things didnae end well, but how on Earth could she manage tae keep yer own daughter from ye?! What kind o’ diddy –”

“Janet,” he cut her off before she could say something she would later regret. “Believe me, it is verra complicated… but the truth of it is: Claire didnae want tae leave me.” 

From the look on Claire’s face, he could tell that she knew this was coming. Years of imagining what would happen if she were to ever tell the truth had prepared her for this. She knew the essence of what she had done to survive was awful… and that everyone she cared about would require an explanation before understanding.

“Has she explained it all to ye, then?” 

“Aye, she has.” 

“And ye’ve forgiven her?” 

“Aye, I have,” he confirmed with no hesitation.

“Okay, that’s enough fer now, then. When I see her myself, she can tell me. And I will be wantin’ tae meet my American niece, Brianna Ellen as soon as possible.” 

That was easier than expected, he thought. “O’course.” 

“Brathair, ye’ve been here, but truly gone for a long while now. Ye dinnae talk tae me or Ian. Ye’ve been acting like a proper eejit. Can ye please tell me what in th’ hell is goin’ on wi’ our bastard uncles and yer bride-tae-be?” 

“Hold on,” he said, placing the phone on mute.

“Sassenach, she wants a full report. Do ye maybe want tae go get Bree while I try tae explain? I think th’ three of us need tae have a conversation.”

He leaned over to kiss her gingerly on the cheek, and then caught her lips. “We’ll figure this out, together,” he assured her. 

Once she was out of the room, he returned to his call. 

“Janet?”

“I’m here,” she confirmed. “Just waiting for ye tae start talkin’.” 

“Dougal and Colum are the reason Claire left… they threatened her after we lost Faith and they knew she was pregnant again so they used her fear for our child’s life against her.” 

“Feckin’ devils. I always kent they were up tae no good. They’ve been treating ye like a wee puppet! An’ they’ve even convinced ye somehow tae marry Laoghaire. I had a feelin’ they had their hands where they didnae belong but I had no idea they were goddamn evil tae the bone! ” 

“Wait - what did ye mean… what ye said about Laoghaire? Ye were th’ one who introduced me tae th’ lass!” 

“Years ago! I thought th’ two of ye might help each other through yer losses. But then I realized how wretched she an’ her so-called-friends are… that’s why I backed off an’ never spoke of her again after that first dinner at Lallybroch.”

“What are ye talkin’ about?! Colum told me ye were goin’ on and on about the match…” 

“Jamie…” she said, her voice dripping with pity. 

“Oh,” his entire face fell, suddenly he could feel gravity pulling him to the ground. How much of my life has been poisoned by those two?

“I’m sae sorry.” 

“This is all my fault… how could I no see it?”

“Jamie, ye’re just as much a victim. Please ken that. They took advantage of ye. They decided they could play God. Now, th’ true God willing, their time has come.”

“I am goin’ tae do everythin’ in my power to make sure of it.” 

“Good thing ye’re the First Minister of Scotland, then.” 

“Aye.”

“And while I am verra glad ye’re First Minister, I also want my brother back. I hope Claire can help wi’ that.” 

“I think she already has,” he said, allowing a smile to crack open. 

She hummed, knowingly. “Then please, tell me: why are ye engaged tae be married tae that awful girl?! Wee Janet just showed me a photo from her Instagram page o’ her struttin’ around Edinburgh wi’ a diamond th’ size o’ my heid!” 

Jamie’s heid was spinning. The truth was, he didn’t know. He had become so used to people making decisions for him, telling him what to do, that suddenly being in control of a situation felt like something he had never done before. 

“I tried tae talk wi’ Laoghaire earlier... but it didnae go well. It’s verra complicated… she asked fer time as there’s Marsali and Joan tae think of… the press, my cabinet...” 

Since Claire left him, he had been on autopilot, going through the motions of life. Accomplishing the bare minimum, what he must for the sake of his family and country. When Laoghaire offered shallow reasons for staying engaged, he accepted them because it was what he had been accustomed to doing. 

“Don’t be an eejit! She’s taking advantage of ye! Everything is complicated, Jamie. Life is complicated. But one thing is simple: Do ye love Claire?”

“Aye, I do.”

“Weel, my brother would never let anything stand between him and the the love o’ his life if he kent she wanted him too. I think I told ye: I want my brother back.” 

“I ken ye’re right.” He was guilty for not doing the right thing by Claire before, if he had anything to do with it, he would never be guilty for that again.

“I always am! Please, dinnae wait. Dinnae let Claire run away this time, Jamie. She has nothin’ tae fear. She’s braw.” 

“Aye, I ken it.”

“And ye can help protect her…” she took a deep breath. “Brathair?” she continued, with more energy. “Can ye tell Claire that I’ve missed her? Oh, and tell my niece I cannae wait tae meet her!” 

“I can do that. Thank ye. I love ye.” 

“I love ye too,” she hung up the phone and he wondered how long it would be before she was knocking on the front door. He hoped he would have time to set things right by then.

Chapter Text

Claire reached out to the wall across from her room for stabilization. Leaving Jamie to explain the situation to his sister made sense, but each step away from him felt as though it was through cement. Thinking of Bree made it easier, but she feared what awaited her beyond the threshold of her guest room. For so long, she had tried her best to ignore her life's complications to stay sane. Now, she was unable to, as some of them were lingering under the same roof. 

Dragging herself to the base of the stairs, she heard Bree laugh out loud. So loud, it carried from the dining room. It had been a while since she had heard that kind of belly laugh from her daughter. How free, and complete, she must feel now that she had unlocked the secrets of her existence. Not to mention how Roger’s presence had been obviously affecting her. Claire closed her eyes and smiled, remembering the vivid fluttering feeling that accompanied a first love. 

When she opened her eyes, she spotted a blonde head in the hallway. At first, her form was blurry, but soon came fully into view. “Hullo, Claire,” Laoghaire smiled with a friendly, timid wave of her left hand. She wished more than anything that she had time to prepare for this interaction. Specifically, a transcription of her earlier conversation with Jamie. How much did she know?

“Hello,” Claire mimicked her tone, nodding to her as she moved to pass her.

“Are ye looking fer sweet Bree?” 

“Yes,” she said, turning to face her once more.

“She’s just in there,” she pointed to the dining room, offering information Claire was already sure of. “She’s wi’ my girls… planning her party. They’re all sae excited!” she bellowed, twisting the gaudy engagement ring on her finger.

“Well, that’s… that’s great to hear,” Claire said, reaching for her necklace, her engagement ring, in an automatic response, but it wasn’t there. A seize of panic overtook all of her senses. 

It’s probably on the sink, she thought to calm herself.

“Ye okay, Claire?”  Laoghaire asked as Claire breathed deeply, in and out.

“Yes, yes… I need to speak with Bree, so I’ll…”

“Before ye do that…” Laoghaire said, preventing her from turning away. “I just wanted to say... I ken things are complicated…”

Claire nodded, sympathetically. 

“I think everything will work out the way they should…” Laoghaire continued. “Jamie is a good person and a good father.” 

“I know that,” Claire said, pointedly. What was she getting at? 

“It’s been a long time since ye’ve kent him, Claire. He’s changed a lot since ye left him.” 

Ah, here we go, she thought. She had been waiting for something like this. Claire bit her tongue to keep from snapping. 

And you know him better? Do you know how he touched me just an hour ago? How he made love to me until the sun came up?

No, no… I will not be that person. But, oh, it would be so easy... 

And it would be easy for her to throw her still burning knowledge of Jamie in Laoghaire’s face. The scent of him still lingered in her senses from holding him so tight just minutes ago. But it was also easy for Claire to understand where this attempt at a defense was coming from.

“I’m sorry for causing you, or your family, any anguish,” Claire said, instead. 

“Anguish? Ye’ve done no such thing, Claire,” she said with confidence. So, she didn’t know anything of what had transpired over the past 12 hours, or she was just playing ignorant . 

“Besides, everything will be back tae normal once ye return tae Boston.”

Claire couldn’t bring herself to feel threatened by the girl, but that had nothing to do with Laoghaire, and everything to do with the faith she had in Jamie. However, her faith didn’t prevent her from feeling irked. Clearly, Laoghaire had taken nothing of value away from their earlier conversation. 

“Laoghaire… I don’t know if I will be returning to Boston...” she tread cautiously, wanting to be as honest as possible. But how much should I be responsible for sharing?

“Och, well… My family will be okay, I’ll be sure of that,” she said, twisting her face into a tight smile, trying to recover her confidence, as she turned toward the front door.

Claire wasn’t one to let someone else have the last word, but she wasn’t sure how to read her opponent, or how to salvage the conversation in a manner that didn’t make things more difficult for Jamie later.

So, instead of harping on it, she decided to pursue her original mission: find Brianna.

“Mama!” Bree said, beaming. Claire stood in the doorway, watching as Bree sat at the long, hardwood table surrounded by the girls who had so easily stolen Jamie’s heart on the dance floor all those years ago. The energy in the room was so positive, she was afraid to speak, fearing her shaky voice would disrupt the balance in any way.

Claire regretted never being able to give Bree siblings. She never wanted her to grow up as an only child, like she had. She wanted her to be forever surrounded by family that loved her, especially if the worst were to ever happen to her parents. Like it had happened to Claire’s parents. Like it had happened to Frank. 

Frank had wanted more children as well, but Claire couldn’t ever bring herself to try. No matter how much she wanted it for Bree. When Frank found out he was infertile, it was a blessing she literally thanked God for. She had never imagined a prayer would leave her feeling so disgusted with herself.

“Mama?!” Bree was standing in front of her now, looking concerned. 

“Sorry, smudge. I got lost in thought.” 

“Clearly. Are you okay?”

“I am. Just need to talk to you, is all. May I steal her for a bit?” she asked the crew typing on tablets and scribbling on paper.

“Aye, o’course. Just be sure tae bring her back soon! We’re working on a playlist!” The older of the two, Marsali, ordered with verve.

“And I’m drawing her dress!” the younger sister, Joan, who minded Claire of her own wee Brianna, added.

“I’ll be… here.” Roger said reluctantly, but smiled as Joan shoved a paper and pen in his direction.

As they walked into the hall, Claire grabbed hold of Brianna’s arm. 

“All seems to be going well in there…” Claire started.

“Yes… Marsali and Joanie are great. And they’re planning this big party for me… almost like a sweet 16! Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

“I didn’t realize you wanted a sweet 16…” remembering how Bree would scoff at every ‘ridiculous’ invitation she received for over-the-top birthday parties. 

“I didn’t! I don’t. Just sounds like fun now, is all. It’ll be great to meet more of Da’s friends and family, no?”

“Of course…” Claire had already been thinking of Brianna meeting her Aunt Jenny and Uncle Ian and all of her cousins. 

“What's the 'but'?…” Bree asked, almost annoyed, pulling Claire out of her head as they entered the living room. Neither of them made a move to sit down.

“But... the fact that this party has been announced publicly and is being planned by…  Laoghaire…. Well, it complicates things for me and your father.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god. I got totally swept up in it… we were just having so much fun… I forgot…”

“Bree, it’s not your fault. This is not an ideal situation.” 

“What do I do? I’ll tell them to cancel it!” she nearly roared, wanting so desperately to protect her parents’ newfound relationship. 

“No, no. I think it’s too late for that. I don’t want to crush those girls more than I have to.”

“Hm…” she thought on it, but ultimately agreed. Marsali and Joan were so lovely to her. “So does that mean… are you and Da… going to be a couple?” 

Claire tried her best not to let a smile leak through. “Bree, we want to be together. But the media is proving to be a bit of an obstacle for your father with everything going on... he’s worried…and of course, there’s Laoghaire…”

“No. No ‘buts!’ Mama, he doesn’t love her. Anyone can see that. Just like anyone can see that he is stupidly in love with you. He truly is your Alexander! And since you’re Elizabeth, I know you won’t let him go.”

Claire blushed at her daughter’s words. She too, felt stupidly in love. She had tried to pour some of her love for Jamie into her fairytales of Alexander and Elizabeth for Brianna, but she could never do it justice. Putting her emotions into words didn’t come naturally to her like it seemed to for Jamie. So, she had twenty years worth of passion and devotion stored up for the man and to put it simply: she was bursting at the seams.

Bree was fascinated by the look on her mother’s face. “This is incredible! I barely had to do anything at all to make this happen!”

“What?! What do you mean?” Claire asked, perplexed.

“Well… I may have been planning to Parent Trap the two of you.” 

“Parent Trap?! You mean like that silly movie you were obsessed with when you were little?” 

“Roger says it’s silly too. But guess what: It’s not! It worked!” 

“Roger is a logical human being. I was not Parent Trapped .” Claire scoffed at the notion of being manipulated by her teenage daughter.

“But you and Da are together?” Bree asked, beaming. Knowing the truth of it.

“Like I said, we want to be.” The word We felt so natural, like breathing.

“What does that mean for us?” Bree took the next logical step. “Are we going to move to Scotland?” 

“Does that sound like something you would like?” Claire asked, failing not to hope for an affirmative.

Brianna thought briefly of her friends, of her college applications… but was sure of one thing despite anything that could hold her back, “I feel like I’ve found everything I’ve ever hoped for right here.” 

Claire let her smile through this time, and reached out for her daughter. “I’m sorry it took so long, smudge.”

“Mama, I’m going to repeat what I said to Da a couple of nights ago: We can’t change what happened…  all we can do is move forward. Together.”

“You are wise beyond your years, my love,” Claire said, bringing her right hand up to brush a curl out of Bree’s face and behind her ear. 

“You made me this way,” Bree said, placing a kiss on her mother’s cheek. “Okay, so what is the plan?” 

“The plan is… we go talk to your father and tell him we’re all in.”

Chapter Text

Jamie didn’t leave Claire’s room after hanging up with Jenny, figuring he should wait there for Claire to return with Brianna. Instead, he made himself comfortable as a new resolve was steeled in his gut.

His sister was many things, often brash, but she wasn’t being impetuous when she expressed her yearning for her brother: the one she knew growing up, and the one she had lost decades ago. 

Jamie hadn’t always sought support in his decisions. In fact, he often went against popular opinion. His lips turned up in a smirk as he remembered his family’s shock when he first told them of Claire. How could ye? Jenny had asked, appalled that he had broken up with his well-liked Parisian model girlfriend because a Sassenach had simply smiled at him while collecting forget-me-nots on a faerie hill. 

On a holiday in Inverness, nearly 25 years ago, as a gust of wind displaced his auburn locks, his whole world shifted. No one could or would ever compare to Claire in his eyes and he was done feeling guilty for that fact. The media, his advisors and the like could go hang.

The circumstances of their parting and their reuniting were beyond his control, but God save anyone who dared try to come between them now. 

When his body began heating up at the thought of all who had and would conspire to keep him from his happiness, he made his way across the room, to the bathroom.

Gripping the sink, he stared at his reflection in the mirror, recognizing himself despite his burning flesh. James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser was no longer on autopilot , he thought as he folded his body in half to splash cool water running from the faucet to his face. 

Eyes closed, he turned the faucet off and allowed the water droplets to run free down his face, neck, and chest. A calming moment passed before he reached for a small nearby towel folded neatly on a rack. He blotted his face dry and when he opened his eyes again, it wasn’t his reflection that caught his attention, but a tiny band of silver, attached to a dainty chain. 

He instinctively knew what it was before he picked it up with his too-large thumb and pointer finger. Even so, he inspected it. He felt a tightening in his chest as he rubbed his thumb against the thistle and knots engraved into the metal. Out loud, “Mo ghraidh,” escaped his throat in a whisper.  At the sound of voices filling the room, he slipped the ring and chain into his pant pocket.

“Jamie?” Claire called out when she didn’t find him right where she had left him.

“Aye, I’m here, Sassenach,” he appeared in the doorway of the bathroom and then continued on striding towards her.

“Why do you call her that? Sassen..ach.” Bree asked, stepping out from behind her mother. 

“It’s just a wee pet name,” he said, smiling almost looking guilty.

“Don’t bother looking it up, it’s meant to be offensive,” Claire added, pouting, but before Jamie could offer any attempt at a justification, she added, “but I have grown quite attached to it. So don’t you dare stop now.” She brought a finger up to his nose, poking him in teasing. He was a bit surprised but more glad to see her mood had vastly improved, but then again Bree did seem to have that effect on people. 

“Wouldnae dream of it,” he said smiling and leaning in towards her lips, barely grazing them before Brianna interrupted.

“Okay, you two, stop being cute,” she said, finding a seat on the edge of the bed. “We have important business to discuss.”

“Oh, aye?” Jamie raised a brow and planted his feet. “Go on, then.”

“We want to move to Scotland,” Bree said, matter-of-factly. 

Jamie looked from Bree to Claire, who moved closer and hooked an arm around his middle.

“Is that what you want?” Claire asked him. As she looked up at him, she noticed his eyes were welling.

“We’re all in.” Bree said with a smile. 

“As am I, a leannan.” 

“I’ll have to go back to Boston to sell the town house, settle Frank’s estate once and for all, give my two weeks at the hospital of course, then I’ll have to find a job here and somewhere for us to live…” 

She was getting ahead of herself, she knew, but he let her rattle off her to-do list. He grimaced at her last suggestion, to live anywhere but with him. “But that’s all doable,” she said, squeezing his arm, reassuring the both of them. 

He was in awe of her. Of all she was willing to change and give up just to be here – with him. Suddenly, he was overwhelmed with shame for taking so long to figure out what he must do. But he couldn’t change what had been done. All we can do is move forward , Bree had said.

“I’ll do whatever needs tae be done tae protect th’ two of ye, ye ken that right?” 

Jamie avoided Claire’s gaze, looking at Brianna. In truth, it hadn’t been long enough for Brianna to know him, it had been mere days since she turned up in his backgreen, but somehow she seemed sure. “ It’s you ,” she had said, looking into his eyes as she was just now. He motioned for her to stand. When she did, he reached out his left hand to her. “I need tae hold th’ two of ye just now.” 

So he did. He held them tight to his chest, breathing them in. “Mo chridhe,” he whispered into the head of auburn tendrils that matched his own. 

“I would verra much like if the two of ye lived wi’ me,” he said, which to his displeasure, had both of his lasses pulling away from him. “I do have multiple places of residence, ye ken. We can take our pick.” 

“It’s not too soon?” Claire asked, genuinely sounding worried.

“And what is your plan with Laoghaire and the girls?” Bree asked, moving back to her spot on the edge of the bed.

“Weel, Bree, as I've told yer mam, it was never a matter of love between th' two of us, between Laoghaire and me. And when ye and yer mam returned tae me, all of my reasoning for proposing marriage didnae matter. Nothing matters tae me more than th' two of ye. I only want a life wi' yer mam... wi' you" he paused... hoping he was explaining himself well enough. She nodded. "I figure I can offer them a place to live as well. No wi’ us, o’course but I would like to continue caring for the girls,” he said, shyly.

“Jamie, I understand,” Claire promised with another squeeze to his arm and he nodded, hoping his conscience would believe her. 

“I do too. They’re lovely girls who have been dealt a shitty hand. I wouldn’t want to take you away from them,” Bree’s eyes were sparkling. “Besides, I’ve always wanted siblings.” 

“Do you think Laoghaire will ever truly be okay with this...erm... situation?” Claire asked, sounding almost remorseful.

“I dinnae ken, but she has nae choice in the matter.” The steel in his gut was sure that he would do what had to be done. And he said so. Especially now, knowing that they were all in – there was no turning back. He looked to Claire as he made this promise, capturing a confident but tight smile. Some of her remorse seemed to fade away.

“Just so you are aware… I did have a bit of a run-in with her in the hall downstairs on my way to collect Brianna. It wasn’t the worst, but it also wasn’t the best…” 

“Aye,” he said, in total understanding. His conversation with her had a similar trajectory. “I’m sorry, Sassenach. I ken it’s awkward…”

“It is…” she nodded. “Maybe it’s best that Bree and I stay somewhere else in Edinburgh for the time being. Give you time to resolve things properly.”

“Aye…” he thought of the idea. “Weel. I do have work to attend to in the city… so, we can stay at Bute House. The three of us.” 

Claire was pleased at that suggestion. While she was also willing to do what needed to be done, she didn’t want to be away from him for any extended period of time. 

“Ahem,” Bree cleared her throat. “Four of us.” 

“Oh, aye. I cannae forget Murtagh,” Jamie joked, knowing her meaning. Bree furrowed her brow, as her father confirmed,  “Aye, Roger can stay wi’ us as well.”  

“Perfect. I can head there after I eat something,” Claire said, relieved to have an escape. “So long as it’s alright with you, and your… cabinet?”

Jamie gave her a look, deducing that her conversation with Laoghaire must have been awkward enough to send her running. 

“Aye, it’s perfectly fine. I’ll tell the house tae expect ye.” 

“I’ll come with you, Mama,” Bree said. 

“No, no. You stay. You were enjoying yourself, smudge. Go hangout with Roger and the girls. Roger can drive you into the city tomorrow, or whenever you’re ready.” Then she turned to Jamie, her eyes locked with his. “And you, do what you need to do, and then come to me.” 

If they weren’t in the presence of their teenage daughter, it was quite clear to Claire that Jamie would have taken her right then. Brianna looked away, partly in disgust and partly to give them a semblance of privacy. Instead of acting on his straining hardness, Jamie placed a chaste but wet kiss to the corner of mouth where her smiling lips met her dimple, and then her cheek, and then one more for good measure on her forehead. 

“All settled, then,” Claire said playfully pushing Jamie away. “Now, let me pack. I’ll meet you downstairs for… Brunch?” she asked, unsure of the actual time and they nodded, obeying her by heading out.

Hours went by before Claire made moves to actually leave the Fraser Country House. They had brunch as planned, but then Joanie was begging to play games that Bree had mentioned casually during the meal. While Laoghaire was nowhere to be found, Claire had to admit that she was quite enjoying the company of her exuberant daughters. Not to mention how she relished the classic humor that Roger and Murtagh provided and, of course, the warmth brought to the table by Jamie and Bree. 

When Laoghaire appeared again, seemingly out of thin air, she disrupted a game of charades in the living room. “What’s goin’ on here?” she asked from the doorway. Marsali was on the floor, in a fit of giggles. 

Bouncing on the couch, Joanie was the first to respond, “We’re playin’ charades, Ma.” She easily broke the tension with her butchering of the name of the game. 

“Aye, we were just finishing up our last round,” Jamie said, then sipped from his dram. He handed his nearly empty glass to Claire, who was sitting next to him to finish it off. He then nodded to her to place it on the table. 

“But then Marsali completely lost it,” Bree said, pointing to the blonde who was now splayed out, breathing heavily. 

“Aye, I lost us the game,” she said, bringing herself up on her elbows. “It’s no my fault, I’ve never seen Star Wars!

“Something we must fix, immediately,” Roger said in a serious, commanding tone. 

“Did ye finish planning th’ party, then?” Laoghaire asked, directing her miffed gaze toward Marsali. 

“Weel, about that… Bree decided she didnae want a big party like ye suggested. She’d rather somethin’ smaller… mebbe…” 

“Ye dinna want tae get dressed up and dance the night away, then?” she said to Marsali, more than Bree. Marsali begrudgingly shrugged. 

“I’ve never been one for big parties…” Bree said, not lying. “I just want the people who are most important to Jamie,” she glanced at her father, who returned her smile. “To meet me.” 

“Weel, I do understand but I’m sorry Brianna, Geneva has already sent word out tae the…” 

Jamie cut her off, “Dinna fash, Bree. I’ll have my Press Secretary take care of it.” 

“Weel, then I guess the party is cancelled then. I’m sae sorry lassies,” she said, offering an awfully sorrowful look specifically for Joan.

Having finally sussed out the situation, Joan let out a boisterous whine, “But I wanted to get dressed up! And dance! And tell everyone about my new sister!” 

Laoghaire moved to physically comfort her smallest daughter. 

Before anyone could break the silence following Joan’s outburst, Claire emphatically rubbed her palms on her thighs. Her happy bubble burst, she wanted to finally make her leave. “I’ll leave you all to discuss this, I really must be going.” 

It was getting late, the sun nearly set. The Bute House was expecting her arrival hours ago.

“Ye’re leaving?” Laoghaire asked. Claire thought she sensed a twinge of hope. 

“Um, yes… I’ll be heading to the city for the remainder of my stay,” she responded, not wanting to give too much information.

Laoghaire simply nodded and placed a kiss to the crown of Joan’s head before standing up. “Weel, safe travels tae ye then,” she said and then turned to leave the room. 

“I’ll see you soon,” she said to Jamie. Not wanting to offer any overt affection, in front of the girls, she settled for squeezing his hand. 

“Take care, ladies, gentlemen” she said briefly offering an affectionate look to each person she would be leaving behind.

Claire rolled her small bag through the hall. She hoped she could make it to her car without another run-in. When she did, she sighed with relief and tossed her belongings into the backseat.

Sitting in the driver’s seat, she faced the country house and thought of everything that occurred in the last few days. She thought of shooting Dougal in the gut, of sipping whisky after doing so, of Murtagh lifting her up in his arms, of laughing with Joan and Marsali, of watching sparks fly between Roger and Bree. Then, she thought of Jamie, picturing his smile and strong arms so clearly. She thought of capturing a curl of his with her fingers – so like Bree’s. 

She thought of the near future: of being alone with Jamie in Bute House. Her thoughts quickly tumbled out of control, and heat was pulsing through her core, to her fingertips. She thought of him bending her over various pieces of furniture. Maybe a kitchen island. She felt ridiculous, surprised that a 42-year-old woman could manage to work herself up this way. A mere thought of him taking her had her sodden. She gulped hard despite her mouth being dry. She was sweating. Turning the car on, she noted that controls for the heat were all the way up, which she quickly adjusted. When the fan wasn’t doing it for her, ( was it even on? ) she rolled down her driver’s side window. The fresh air helped her to regulate her breathing. 

She shifted to reverse and backed away from the Fraser Country Residence. She would be back, she knew it. Maybe, eventually, she could return the garden to its former glory. Maybe, eventually, she would have Jamie in every room. Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ , she thought, breathing a deep breath out that she could see lingering in the cool air for seconds. She was borderline uncomfortable in her pants now as she turned onto the private street and then on towards the city.

To fill the charged silence, she reached for the radio. Her attention left the road for less than a second, but it was enough time for a sheep to wander into the street just ahead.

Later, she would blame herself. Maybe if she wasn’t preoccupied with distracting herself from further graphic thoughts, she would have noted the spongy feel of the brakes. But she wouldn’t have to blame herself for hurting any innocent animals. “Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ,” she said as she quickly swerved out of the way of hitting the sheep as it ran completely across the street. 

She wouldn’t realize something was wrong until she was slamming her foot with enough force to imagine her heel pushing through the floor. As she pulled desperately at the emergency break, she realized it was too late. If she was going to die, at least she was able to see Jamie one last time. At least she had seen her daughter reunited with her father. At least the brunt of the impact would be on the passenger side. 

She maneuvered her body in preparation for the airbag to deploy, this wasn’t her first car accident. Her last thought was of the cracking sound. Broken ribs, she diagnosed herself.

When she was conscious again, her eyes were adjusting to familiar fluorescent lights.

Chapter Text

“Hello, Dr. Beauchamp. My name is Geillis, I’ll be yer nurse. It’s good tae see yer bonny blue eyes again.” 

Claire held a long blink to focus. I’m alive, she assured herself. Her inner voice sounded surprised. Geillis was examining her vitals when Claire used her first breath to ask for Jamie. 

“We’ve contacted yer next of kin,” she looked at her chart. “But it was no a “Jamie,” lass. Brianna. Lovely name,” she hummed. “She said she would be here as soon as she can.”

Claire opened her mouth but couldn’t shake the tightness in her chest enough to speak.

“Ye might be havin’ some trouble breathing, aye?”

“Seems so,” she said. 

“Yer lung was punctured by a broken rib.”

“I knew the broken rib part before… everything... went black,” Claire said, trying to remember more. She chased her breath after each word.“What is the... prognosis?” 

“Expected to heal quite quickly. We inserted a chest tube to keep it from collapsing, and now we’re just keepin’ an eye on ye. As ye ken, there is no much we can do for a broken rib, save treat the symptoms.” 

“Yes, of course,” she said nodding, and with the movement of her head, she became aware of bandages on her face. She brought her hand up slowly, to keep from pulling on the IV and lightly touched where the bridge of her nose should be.

“Yer nose was fractured, as well,” said Geillis. 

“Dammit,” she cursed out loud.

“I tell ye yer lung was nearly collapsed and yer more upset about a wee fracture in yer nose?”

“I was rather... fond of my nose.” 

“Och, dinna fash. I’m sure it will heal just fine. Dinna tell th’ doctor I told ye that. We get in trouble for makin’ promises we cannae keep around here.” 

“MAMA!” Bree exclaimed, nearly running her knees into the bed. Geillis quickly moved out of the way to make room for the tall redhead. 

“I’ll be back later,” Geillis said, making eye contact with Claire over Brianna’s head. “Take it slow. No too much talking from ye. The doctor should be in soon.” 

Bree hovered next to the bed, staring at her mother’s laying form. “I’m scared to touch you. They said you broke two ribs! And one punctured your lung!” 

“Apparently,” Claire confirmed. “Sit,” she pointed toward the adjacent chair. “C’mere,” she said beckoning her to move the chair closer. “You can… hold my hand.”

Brianna obeyed her mother. “Are you really okay?” She asked, grabbing for said hand. She placed a kiss just next to where the IV entered a vein before she could answer. 

“Geillis says so.” At her confused look, Claire added, “My nurse.” 

“Thank God,” she breathed out deeply, bowing her head. Then she looked up, smiling, “Da was worried.” 

Claire had to laugh at her daughter’s attempt at a joke, but it cost her. She winced in pain before asking, “Is your father here?”

“Of course he is! I left him pacing in the waiting room. They would only let one of us in to see you.” 

“My baby,” Claire said, squeezing Bree’s hand. “I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to... worry you.” 

“Don’t you dare apologize! This wasn’t your fault!”

“There was… something wrong… with the brakes… I should have…”

“Stop! Stop it right now! If Da hears you talking like that he’s gonna freak out.” 

“Talking like what?” Jamie asked from the doorway, his question hung as he took the sight of Claire in. He inched toward the bed, his eyes never leaving hers.

“How’d you get back here?!” Bree asked, not moving.
He turned to his daughter, who was visibly more calm than she had been when he had last seen her. That’s a good sign , he thought. He breathed out some of the tension he had been carrying.

“‘Twas easy once I remembered to tell them who I was. No many people recognize me out o’ place and dressed like this.” He motioned to his sweats and pulled off the beanie that had been hugging his head.

“First Minister Privilege, huh?” Bree snarked.

“Aye,” he affirmed.

“The media…”

“I dinna care,” he cut Claire off before she could waste any more precious breath. “Ah Dhia, Sassenach, are ye truly alright?” 

“According… to Geillis... ” 

“Her nurse,” Bree clarified for her confused father and winked at her mother.

“How do ye feel?” He inched closer to the bed, opposite Bree. He didn’t wait for an answer before leaning down to place a kiss on her forehead. “Christ, yer wee nose! They didna tell us!”

“I know…”

“I feel as though I must kill someone just now.” She had no idea that he loved her nose as much as she did.

“I’d rather… you stayed... with me.” 

“Aye, o’course. I couldna leave ye.” 

“Good,” she said reaching her hand up from her elbow for him to capture with his own.

Looking at her parents, Bree decided it was time to give them a moment alone. She excused herself by saying she wanted to update Roger.

Jamie looked as if he was caught between a rock and a hard place, approval and disapproval of her leaving. But he ultimately nodded, wanting most to focus on Claire.

“Ye didna answer me before… how do ye feel?”

“Tired… it does hurt a bit…but I’m okay.” 

He nodded, and moved around the bed to where Bree had been sitting. 

“Tell me something... please.” Distract me from the pain, she begged with her eyes.

He sat, and thought of what to say, grabbing her hand in the meantime. “I caught yer daughter kissin’ that numpty!” 

“Roger?” she choked.

“Aye, Roger,” he rolled his eyes and grumbled through his name.

“And?” she smiled, amused by his reaction.

“ And? What do ye mean “ and ”? He’s kissing my daughter in my house? Who does he think he is?!”
“I seem to remember… us doing a lot worse at 18.”

“Weel…” he blushed. “I dinna like it one bit. He barely kens th’ lass!” 

“Neither… did we… when you… kissed me that first time...” 

“Och, c’mon, Sassenach. Dinna punish me fer no bein’ able to resist ye. I’m just tryin’ tae protect Bree.” 

“Strange how... easy it comes, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“Worrying.”

“Does it ever go away?”

“Never.”

He smiled at that. A cross he would be grateful to bear for eternity. “I love her,” he said. She knew it well. “I love you, I am sae glad yer alright… I canna tell ye how it felt when Bree told me what had happened…I thought I lost ye...” 

“I’m okay," she gave him her best attempt at a smile despite the bruising pain in her face. 

“Thank Christ,” he said as his phone started buzzing. He apologized while he dug for the device in his pocket. It was John Grey. He didn’t want to answer, but since he had requested his assistance in finding out information related to Claire’s accident, he couldn’t resist. 

“John,” Jamie stood and turned from Claire. "I didna expect tae hear from ye so soon." 

“Once I heard from you, I spoke with the Chief Constable. This will be a high profile case, after all."

"Mhm, weel, what do ye have fer me?"

"Jamie, the other driver was barely over the legal limit." Jamie opened his mouth to say it didn't matter, they shouldn't have been driving... but John spoke again, too quickly. 

"There's something else..." he said, gingerly. "Claire’s brakes, among other things..." he paused, thinking over his words. "Jamie, the police are suspecting her car was sabotaged."

Jamie could hear nothing else but his heart pounding in his ears. He clenched his jaw and spit out orders at his friend. “Text me everything ye ken,” he said, hanging up the phone. 

When he didn’t come back to her, she called out to him. “What… is it?” 

He took a deep breath, in attempt to cool down and then turned to face her once more. At the sight of her in the hospital bed, he was reminded of the last time he had been forced to look upon her in this position. When they had lost their first child. He was ashamed that he hadn't known what was truly going on then, that he couldn't protect his own family. That he still couldn't.

Though he wanted to shrivel up in a corner to die at the thought, he didn't dare give into those feelings.

Not when she needed him to be strong.

“Dinna fash, mo chridhe.” I will make my uncles pay for this, and everything else, if it is the last thing I do.

Every inch of his exposed skin was more red than it had been when he first arrived. She wasn’t satisfied with his answer, but she was too exhausted to fight him on it. 

As if he could read her thoughts, he whispered for her to rest. “Sleep, mo nighean donn, I’m here. No one will harm ye.” 

On command, she closed her eyes and drifted away. He sat beside her, keeping an eye on her strained, but steady, rising and falling chest.

He stewed in his anger and gratitude, in silence, until the doctor interrupted.

Chapter Text

“I’m so fecked,” Laoghaire shouted into her phone as she paced just outside the Fraser Country House. She had just made her leave of Claire, immediately picking up the phone for counsel. 

Thinking over their first solo conversation, it had, objectively, not gone well. She had not done enough to appear confident, nor had she done enough to knock her off of her high horse.

“You need to calm down,” Geneva, who remained in the city, taking advantage of their first class hotel reservation, was on the other line and noticed her heavy breathing.

“Calm down? He told me tae my face that he loves her!” Laoghaire gripped the wooden banister enclosing the porch. “Ye shouldha seen her face just now, G, the woman was practically glowing!” 

Mimicking Claire’s accent and a dramatically high pitch, Laoghaire continued. “Oh, Laoghaire, I’m sorry, I don’t know if I will return to Boston. I may just stay here and ruin your entire life.” 

“Laoghaire, darling, you’re not out just yet. We just need to up our game.” 

“Up our game? I dinna ken if I have any game left. He loves her and she’s making herself quite comfortable… walkin’ around my house in her bare feet…” She took a breath, then asked her friend desperately, “What would ye have me do, G?” 

“Well, I don’t know.” Geneva ransacked her brain for ideas to manipulate Jamie with the press. “You could… fake a pregnancy and leak it to the media. That would stall things a bit.” 

“How would a lie like that salvage my future… my family?” She paused before continuing, “Besides, Jamie would ken immediately that it’s a lie.” 

“You two haven’t…?” She let the questions hang and Laoghaire wanted desperately to ignore it. Knowing the truth of their very limited sex life was upsetting to say the least. She had placed the blame solely on herself for a while, on everything she had gone through with her previous marriage. But now...

Finally, after a questioning grumble from the other line, Laoghaire answered the best she could without coming off pathetic. This was not a topic she often approached with her friend. “No, we have! Just… no recently.” 

“Well, no wonder he’s looking elsewhere, Laoghaire!” 

If she was honest, Laogahire had truly wanted Jamie for years but then… when she finally had him… it was like he wasn’t even there.  “I’ve tried many times tae seduce th’ man…”

“Hmm, okay… well, what if we just killed her?” Geneva deadpanned.

“GENEVA!” Laoghaire nearly yelled into the phone, and ran down the steps and as far away from the house as the walking stone would take her. 

“What?!” Geneva responded. “I was only kidding.” Laoghaire let out a breath. “Kind of. I mean… Isn’t that basically what you were hoping his uncles would do? Take care of her.” 

“No! I hadna expected them tae harm her, truly. I only wanted them tae scare her enough that she would run away again.” 

“You can keep telling yourself that, darling.” 

“Geneva!” 

“I’m just saying that you seem very willing to do some fucked up shit to get Jamie, not that I’m judging, but you were involved with the Scottish Mob for Christ’s sake! I know you’ve done...”

“Shhh! Dinna say that out loud!” Laoghaire looked around, as if she were expecting an agent of some kind were about to pop out and place her under arrest. “They’re useless to me now, so dinna mention them again.”

“Right,” Geneva concurred, having just read an article regarding the ongoing investigation. “Well, we likely can’t scare the ex away. If she’s not sent packing by a home intrusion, or nearly getting shot…” Geneva drifted off. “ Maybe we’re focusing on the wrong trollop,” 

“What do ye mean?” Laoghaire questioned her lightbulb moment.

“Maybe we need to focus on scaring the daughter away.”

“I dinna ken… she’s a kind lass! She’s been sae good wi’ Marsali and Joan.!” 

“She’s the daughter of the woman trying to take your future husband. If we get rid of the girl, we get rid of the ex. There’s no way either of them will stay in Scotland without the other.”

“And how do we do that?”

“By twisting knives that already puncture her heart. With one father dead, and the other just finding out she exists, she’s got crazy daddy-issues, Laoghaire. We just have to expose them and use them to our advantage.”

When Laoghaire said nothing, Geneva continued. 

“We can start planting seeds of doubt of her father’s true nature… of his intentions with you. Then we can play on her insecurities. I’m sure it’s not been easy to see him with Marsali and Joan.”

“I have suspected a twinge of jealousy in her eyes at a few of the stories Marsali has shared of Jamie…”

“Of course. We have to sell the image of him having a family. Not just in the media, but at home. We have to surround her with it. Suffocate her with it.” 

“Suffocate?” 

“It will all come to a head at her party… we’ll be sure to take family photos without her, introduce her to guests as Jamie’s other daughter. Show her how American she is, how she doesn’t quite fit in… Her kind heart won’t be able to take it. Twist, twist,  twist.” 

Laoghaire was doubtful of her scheme, but instead of voicing her concerns, she said, “Christ am I glad yer on my side.”

“By the time we’re done with her, she’ll be begging her mother to take her back to America where she belongs. And where Jamie Fraser, The First Minister of Scotland, could never be.” 

Laoghaire smiled at that.

"We'll talk more later? I have to go," Geneva said when Laoghaire took too long to respond. 

"Yes, thank ye, G."

"You got this," she said before hanging up the phone. Laoghaire was feeling less confident that Geneva had sounded.

Before heading back inside, to start planting seeds, Laoghaire turned to the drive where multiple cars were parked. She knew which was Claire’s rental as it was the only one without any personal items littering the back seat. 

Laoghaire had done many things for the MacKenzie’s, indeed. After a year of working for them, she was sure she had managed to learn how to sabotage a vehicle on her own. 

Geneva didn’t have to know about this part of her plan. With everything she was doing to help her, she could give her this. Plausible deniability.

If she were ever suspected, she could easily blame the MacKenzies. She imagined herself sitting at a metal table, facing a wall, but looking at a reflection of herself: a two-way mirror. 

“Ms. MacKimmie, you have the strongest motive of all. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned!” She wasn’t sure why, but the faceless officer in her mind had an American accent.

“Multiple witnesses saw you outside, near the vehicle,” it was a finely dressed lawyer pointing at her this time.

Shaking her mental images away, she went out to the shed to grab necessary tools. All the while, her conscience fought against her body. After pulling on dirty gardening gloves, she picked up a large pair of metal pliers she found leaning against a table. 

Walking back to where she had come up with this plan, she hoped these cuts she was about to make would be the ones to cut Claire Beauchamp out of her life for good. 

But what if Jamie is in the car? 

No, if they were going anywhere together, he would drive his own car or have his driver pick them up.

It was as if two parts of herself were at war with each other. 

She laid out her scarf on the ground so as not to dirty her clothes and then slid herself under the car. 

What about your girls?

She closed her eyes at the thought of them growing up with a mother in prison. 

Is Jamie worth it? Geneva had asked her in the hotel room.

“Not my life,” Laoghaire answered, out loud to the undercarriage. What am I doing? A tear, then three, ran from her shut eyes into her ears. 

When she opened her eyes again, she looked up and saw that the brakes had already been cut.

After disposing of the gloves and pliers where she had found them, Laoghaire ran into the house and hid herself away in her room for hours.

She was ashamed of what she had almost done.

She was ashamed of what she was going to do.

When Claire said she was leaving for the city, Laoghaire wished her safe travels.

Chapter Text

“Jamie… stop fussing,” Claire said, in search of his hand that was tucking her blankets tight under her bum, despite her pleas.

“I’m comfortable,” she said and when he finally looked up at her, she smiled. “As long as you’re here.” 

“I’m no goin’ anywhere,” he said, promising though his mind wandered. He settled in his seat, clasping her hand again. 

After John called, Jamie texted orders to his head of security to comb the footage from the cameras outside the house on the night of the intrusion. Instead of an affirmative, he got word that the cameras had been tampered with. They didn’t know if anything from that night on was salvageable. Of course , he thought, his uncles had known about the cameras when they planned their break in and they had never meant to be caught. With that information, Jamie was sure that he could no longer trust anyone who worked for him.

At least they were safe here, in the hospital.

As he started a text to John, to inquire about additional background checks for his entire staff, Claire’s doctor walked in. 

“Good evening, Dr. Beauchamp, my name is Dr. Raymond. I have been in charge of your recovery since you were brought to us. How are you feeling?” 

“I’m feeling better... every minute,” she said with a tight smile.

“That’s very good to hear,” he smiled warmly before continuing in a more professional manner. “We were worried that your lung might collapse, but you are holding steady as we had hoped. We would like to keep you overnight to monitor you, but as long as everything stays as is, we can likely discharge you tomorrow. As long as you promise to be cautious and have someone to care for you at home, that is.”

Dr. Raymond looked at Jamie, expectantly, lifting an eyebrow as he waited for a response. 

Claire wondered if her doctor knew that he was prodding the First Minister of Scotland.

“Aye, she’s got me,” Jamie nodded, squeezing Claire’s fingers.

“Wonderful,” he said and turned back to Claire, satisfied. “Do you have any questions?”

“Just… was anyone else hurt?” 

“The other driver was treated for minor cuts. You carry the brunt of the damage, I’m afraid.”

“Good,” she said, breathing out as if that had been weighing on her.

“Anything else?” Dr. Raymond, asked, looking from Claire to Jamie, who both shook their heads. “Great, if you need anything, just… well you know how this works, Dr. Beauchamp.” He smiled warmly, once more before turning to leave.

“Being on the other side of the bed is so weird,” Claire said once her doctor disappeared past the nurse’s station.

“I can imagine,” he said. “Does being here make you miss work?”

“Not really. Just reminds me of the worst parts of the job.” 

“I canna imagine working in a hospital… the sounds… the smells… just awful.” 

Claire laughed at that. “I can’t argue with you there.” 

“Ye’re incredible.” 

“Because I can deal with the awful sounds and smells?”

“Weel, because of that and because ye’re selfless and brave and kind and... verra beautiful.” 

“Oh, please,” she said. With her free hand, she swatted where he was tangled with her fingers.

“I am verra serious. Yer only question was about the bastard that hit ye…” he shook his head, incredulously. “Christ, ye’re a brave wee thing.”

She said nothing, only blushed. He kissed her where her skin was warm and pink. 

“Claire, when ye’re discharged, I’m going to take ye tae Lallybroch.” 

“Lallybroch…” she muttered slowly, like a question. 

“I dinna ken who I can trust here but I do ken we can trust Jenny and Ian. And Murtagh, o'course.” 

Claire’s face twisted into a worried knot. He knew why.

“Dinna fash about Jenny, she’s grown softer with age.”

“That is very hard to believe,” Claire said sternly. 

“She told me she misses ye and canna wait tae see ye.” 

Claire’s mouth fell open in a slight shock. “I thought she would… hate me forever.”

“Not forever...” he said and his smile told her she really had nothing to worry about where his family was concerned but the knot twitching between her brows only softened slightly. "Besides, Sassenach, how can she hate ye now that ye're a wee bit broken?"

When she didn't laugh, he had to ask, “Is there somethin' else, mo nighean?” 

Before she could deny it, he said, “Ye can tell me anything.” 

“It’s silly, really, I just... I had a lovely dream while I was... out…  and I want it to come true.”

He nodded for her to continue. The way he listened to her, was like nothing she could ever say was silly or not worth hearing. She never had that before.

“I want Bree to have the big party…” 

His face twisted in concern at that, but he could tell she wasn’t finished, so he didn’t interrupt.

“When she was sixteen… she had her first real break down about Frank… about not having a father anymore. It killed me to see… her so heartbroken… knowing that she still had a father out there...knowing she could have you...” Claire paused to catch her breath. Jamie stayed quiet. “It happened at a friend’s birthday party… it was a big sweet sixteen… during a father-daughter dance…she called me crying to pick her up...”

Jamie nodded, understanding. 

“I want her to have that, Jamie. Family, friends, happiness… I don’t want all of this…” she motioned around the hospital room “...to stop it.” 

Jamie nodded, but couldn’t bring himself to agree. 

“The dream was of her dancing with you,” Claire said, wistfully as droplets clouded her vision.  

“So ye dinna want me tae call off Laoghaire’s plans?” 

“No, I don’t. Even if I can’t be there to see it…” she motioned to herself. “I want you to give her that dance.” 

“I’ll do anything ye ask o’ me, Claire, as long as I live." He spoke with the dedication of a soldier who would lay down their life for their country. He would fight for her, for their family, and even though she lay in a hospital bed, she trusted him with everything she had. Ever since their first conversation, when she told him everything, Claire felt the pieces of her heart and soul that were taken from her slowly find their way back to her. No matter what part of her was broken now, she would have that: her heart and soul. 

Then, he reached into his pocket to retrieve the final piece. “I found this on yer sink,” he said, holding the silver band out for her to see. Her breath caught at the sight of the ring, remembering the panic she felt when she didn’t find it hanging from her neck this morning.

“I ken we never made our marriage official but I have been yours, forever."

Mine, she thought. Mine. Her heart pounded in her ears, and even though she hadn't uttered a word in a while, she struggled with her breath.

“I would like ye tae wear this wee ring on yer finger again, and I would like tae be yer husband, officially, as soon as possible... if ye’ll have me.”

“I'm yours, Jamie,” she said, stretching her left hand out to him. "Always."

Sliding the ring on her finger, he whispered, “Always,” before kissing each of her knuckles. She wished she could take him in her arms, but she knew it would hurt too much. So she settled for touching his face and wiping his tears.

"Kiss me?" she asked. Concerned for her nose among other broken things, he was too gentle for her liking.

Sensing her discontent, he said, "I promise tae make it up tae ye." 

She trusted that he would.

Chapter Text

Bree could tell her father still hadn’t gotten over the kiss he witnessed by the look on his face when she excused herself. She hoped it had more to do with the idea of his newfound daughter being grown than with Roger himself. Because she was really starting to like Roger and hoped her Da would like him too, eventually. 

Leaving her mother’s side was difficult for her to do, but she wanted to give her parents some time alone.

She then remembered a few times growing up when she had felt the need to excuse herself from a room or dinner table when she sensed tension between Claire and Frank. From her room, she would hear slamming doors, threats to leave, loud cries. She couldn’t remember a single time she felt the need to leave them alone to simply be with each other. With that thought, she felt a pang of sadness in her gut for the father who had raised her.

Rounding the corner to the waiting room, Bree found Roger and Murtagh sitting next to each other. Their personalities dimmed as they waited patiently for news.

She approached them cautiously. With each step, her smile grew and by the time she reached them, her teeth were showing. They looked up at her expectantly and softened as she told them the good news.

Relieved, Murtagh breathed out a thank you to “the Almighty!” before rising to meet Bree. “I told ye she would be just fine, lass.” 

“You did,” she said and hugged him tight. At first, he was stiff, but then he melted, lifting his arms to hug her back.

Over his shoulder, Bree caught Roger looking at her. He nodded to her as she let go of Murtagh and quickly moved to him. He stood before she could reach him and caught her in his arms. 

“I was so scared!” she cried into his chest.

“I know,” he said, rubbing large circles on her back. “She’s okay.” 

Pulling away to wipe her nose on her sleeve, instead of his, something caught her attention on the table. “Is that… me?” 

“Oh.. that’s… nothing,” Roger tried to pull her back into him, but it was too late. She was reaching for the tabloid on the table. 

“Shocking Love Child Twist! Happily Ever After Ruined for First Minister,” she read the headline out loud. “What the fuck is this?” 

“It’s just rubbish, Bree.” 

Bree ignored Roger’s proclamation and flipped through the glossy pages to find the article about her inside. After skimming the full spread, she fell into a seat. Roger sat beside her. Murtagh was sitting across from them, watching. 

“How do they know so much about me?” She felt exposed. They wrote about her life in Boston, her parents’ divorce, her father’s death, her lack of a plan for her future. She closed the copy of The Sun on her lap and stared at her face on the cover. “Also, why are they making me out to be a homewrecking villain? The way this is written… it’s like I’m plotting to take Jamie away from Scotland and this perfect little family they’ve constructed in their heads… and who are these so called “sources” anyway?!” 

He watched her eyes move through the words again, this time they bubbled with tears as she finished reading. “They write what sells, Bree. People eat this kind of drama up,” Roger said, reaching out for her hand that wasn’t gripping the paper. 

“Sucks for them. The real story is even better,” she said, thinking about whatever romantic scene was likely playing out in the hospital room between her parents. “Mobsters and tragedy, decades of separation and longing, magical stones and true love… it’s beautiful.” 

“It is,” he agreed. “And dinna forget yourself. Ye’re a big part of the beautiful story. And I think one day ye’ll be able tae share it properly.” 

“I hope so. This is ridiculous,” she said, dangling the tabloid in front of his face. “And they’re probably digging stuff up about my mom as we speak.” He grabbed it from her and tossed it back on the table, face down. 

“You know… I’ve never Googled myself before,” she said, sounding almost intrigued, as she pulled her phone out of her pocket for the first time since answering the call that told her that mother was in an accident.

“Why start now?” Roger asked, concerned. He knew what she would find and he almost wanted to knock the phone out of her hand. 

He should have knocked her phone out of her hand because in addition to the article she had just read, there were many others using similar clickbait headlines as well as feedback from many users of the internet.

All of the articles she saw used the same photo of her standing in the middle of the stone circle at Craigh Na Dun in Inverness. It was the photo she used to help prove her identity to Jamie. It was also her most recent Instagram post. 

She scrolled through an article from Daily Record. At the bottom, there were a few comments. The first was about her “bonny hair” and obvious likeness to Jamie, the second looked like spam, but it was the third that caught her attention. 

“One would think the daughter of a powerful political figure would have some sense of purpose, or direction. I hope her father isn’t too embarrassed of her.”

She cringed, but before she could verbally react, she saw that someone else replied to the comment, “Right? And what about her mother?! What kind of woman keeps a child from their true father?! So awful!” 

In the time it took to read the reply, she went from upset to pissed off. Thinking of her mom, in a hospital bed, unable to defend herself, she quickly killed the tab. 

“They have no idea what they’re talking about!” she said to no one in particular. She then looked up shyly at Roger who had in fact been reading over her shoulder. He nodded and rubbed her back with large circles again. “I should put my accounts on private… that’s how they got these photos,” she said, opening her Instagram app. 

When she did, a notification bubble let her know that somehow, in the past few hours, she had amassed hundreds of new followers, comments, likes, and tags.

Before she could change her settings, a new comment appeared, one she couldn’t bring herself to ignore. 

A faceless account with 0 followers wrote “whore” on a post that was over a year old.  It was a photo of her at Cape Cod with friends, wearing a bikini, drinking a mocktail. The caption was just a bunch of emojis evoking happiness. At the time, she had felt so confident, but now, looking at the photo with Roger, she felt nothing but self conscious. She deleted the comment, blocked the account, and then kept scrolling. “Bree…” Roger started, not knowing how to stop her. 

There were so many comments that weren’t there a few hours ago. 

On her Craigh Na Dun photo, “americans are so stupid lmao this is literally a sacred spot.” On a photo from her birthday, “ur 18 and u just found who ur dad is? sounds fake.” On a photo of her and Frank, “Jamie is hotter for sure!” 

She was also being tagged in posts. One was a photo of Marsali, Joan, Laoghaire and Jamie with the caption, “I feel so bad for their little family :(” 

She couldn’t help but notice the smiles on each of their faces.

“Wow… so many people…  are mad at me....” she said, turning her screen off. She had seen enough.

“The internet can be a toxic place, Bree. I’m sure there are more positive comments than negative ones, but it’s always the negative ones that stand out.” 

She nodded, unconvinced. 

“Bree, I dinna ken much about the… internet… but what I do ken is that ye’re a Fraser,” she hadn’t noticed Murtagh moved to crouch in front of her. “That means somethin’ around here. Unfortunately, it means there will be plenty o' people rootin' fer ye tae fail. But ye’re a brave, intelligent, bonny lass wi’ a Da who absolutely adores ye. No one can take that from ye.”

“And what about you? Are you rooting for me?” she asked, bringing her eyes up to meet his, she would swear they were almost sparkling.

“Oh lass, I’m bettin’ on ye,” he said, smiling with his teeth.

Chapter Text

“Thank you for making her go,” Claire said as Jamie passed over the threshold. He had just escorted Bree back to the waiting room, where he instructed Roger and Murtagh to see her safely home for the evening.

After giving her parents some time alone, Bree returned to her mother’s side and said not a word about anything she had read, hoping to keep the articles and comments on the backburner while her mother was healing. She didn’t necessarily like the idea of keeping a secret, but she didn’t want to give her mother something else to worry about. She also assumed her father would find out from one of his aids soon enough. 

Bree also didn’t say a word about the new placement of a silver band that had once dangled from her mother’s neck. But she did smile to herself about it. 

Jamie sat beside Claire once more, and patted her on the leg where he thought her knee should be. “She looked like she was ready tae fall asleep on ye!” 

Claire let out a small giggle that quickly turned into a sigh.

“What is it?” Jamie asked.

“Nothing… it’s just… she smiles in her sleep – like you.”

“Oh,” he said. She wanted to trace her fingertips along his cheek bones where he was blushing.

“I almost wish she had fallen asleep… so I could have shown you.” 

Claire had seen flecks of Jamie in her daughter from the moment she was born. 

Whenever Bree smiled with her teeth, furrowed her brows in deep concentration, allowed her hair to curl naturally, or lost her temper – it was like she was wedging a window open that Claire had meant to keep shut.

“We have plenty o’ time fer us tae creepily watch her sleep, mo ghraidh.”

A punctured lung couldn’t rival the pain brought on by the thought of the time that they had lost, but Claire was fit to burst at the thought of sharing her with him now. 

“It’s not creepy!” she protested, then faltered a bit. “ ... Is it? Oh God, am I a creepy mum?” 

“No! No, I was only kidding. Sassenach,” he laughed, trying to prove it. “It’s beautiful tae see ye wi’ her. She loves ye sae much.”

“I love her. So much,” she said, and he nodded with a knowing smile.

“I hope she’ll be okay with all of this.” Jamie motioned between them, and then to her ring.

“Okay with it?” Claire laughed again, but winced this time. “She was plotting for this.”

“Plotting?” he asked, taken aback. “What do ye mean?” 

Claire thought briefly about explaining the plot of The Parent Trap to the wide eyed Jamie who sat in front of her, but decided against it. Explaining pop culture to him would be like explaining airplanes to someone from the 18th century.

“Well, it’s my fault. I told her stories about us throughout her childhood. I wanted to tell her about you... but I couldn’t, so I thought I could at least give her the story of us.." She paused a moment to catch her breath. "So I did, in a way. I told her The Adventures of Elizabeth and Alexander …”

“Aye,” he was thinking back to when he had first met Bree. “She mentioned knowing me as Alexander Malcolm …”

“She’s too smart, that one... she saw right through it… she knew that I was telling more truth than fiction.”  

“She kent yer mind was no made fer dreaming up fairy tales, aye?”

“Too bloody logical and obvious for my own good.”

He laughed, flashing a toothy grin: the grin she loved so much. 

“She knew I loved you… all along." Claire continued, "And so, when she came here and I followed, she decided that she was going to... play matchmaker. That’s why she pushed for me to stay at the house... ” 

“She didna have tae do much, aye?” 

“No... we ruined her fun.” 

His grin fell to something a bit more bashful then. They sat shyly in the moment, each staring into a pair of blue eyes. No, Claire thought. It didn't take much trapping, or plotting at all. It was all quite simple once all of their cards were on the table. 

“I’ve asked Murtagh to watch over Bree while I’m here wi’ ye.” 

“Thank you. And what about Roger? Did you ask him to watch over Bree as well?” They both knew she was prodding him on purpose.

“Can we no talk about him, Sassenach?” 

She shook her head, and wanted to push him on his disdain, but was again finding herself too tired to put up much of a fight. “For now, we can put the topic to bed.” 

“Speaking of bed… ye need tae rest.” 

“And what about you? Do you not need to rest?”

“Oh, aye. I can rest once ye're asleep and I've spent enough time watching yer wee bosom rise and fall.” 

“I suppose I won’t be convincing you to sleep in this bed with me?”

“I suppose not! Yer ribs are broken and yer lung is punctured!” 

“Alright,” she said, pressing the call button. “Then I’m going to get you extra blankets and pillows and you are going to hold my hand, at the very least.” 

Before dragging his chair closer to her, he smiled. “Aye, Doctor Beauchamp, that I can do.” 

“So ye make yer lad call ye Doctor Beauchamp, hm?” Geillis said from the doorway, her eyebrows raised.

“No,” Claire said with a snicker. “Actually, I can’t even get him to call me Claire.”

“I thought we discussed this, Sassenach. I ken ye like my wee pet names.” 

“Does he make ye call him First Minister?”

Claire didn’t laugh, or answer, she looked over at Jamie with concern written all over her face. 

“It’s okay, Claire. I dinna care who kens about us.”

“Dinna fash, I willna say anything, Doctor Beachamp.” 

“While I might not be able to... get him to call me Claire... I insist that you do..” 

“What can I do fer ye, Claire? ”

“Umm, well… Jamie would like to stay…” she hesitated before continuing, expecting Geillis to cite policy. When she didn’t, Claire continued with her request. “Can we get him some blankets and pillows to make him comfortable?”

“We dinna let visitors stay over night, Claire…”

“I know, I tried to tell him…”

“I’m not leaving,” Jamie said, with his chest puffed out. 

“Ah, there’s the First Minister I ken and voted for,” Gellis said with a smirk, before turning to leave. 

Jamie turned to Claire, who was smiling to herself, still watching the door that her nurse had disappeared through. Her fingers absently brushed circles in the soft blanket on her lap.

Within moments of Claire’s request, Geillis returned with two extra blankets and pillows to make the First Minister comfortable. She had offered to roll in an extra bed, but he denied the request saying that someone else might need it more than he did.

“Are ye sure? Ye’re much too large fer that chair.”

“Dinna fash,” he said, maneuvering himself out of the chair to place the pillows and blankets down. 

“Suit yerself, lad,” Geillis said as she moved to check her patient’s vitals. Preoccupied with settling in, Jamie didn’t notice her face twist from playful to professional. 

“I like her,” Jamie said when the nurse was gone. 

“I don’t think I’ll be leaving tomorrow,” Claire said with a frown. 

“Why do ye say that?” 

“Geillis is concerned about something.” 

“Surely she wouldha said…” 

“Hmm,” was all Claire could muster before Doctor Raymond returned, with a guarded look on his face, similar to Geillis’.

“What’s th’ matter?” Jamie asked before Claire could. 

“Doctor Beauchamp,” he said, speaking directly to Claire. “Your body temperature is high and blood pressure is quite low. As you know, this can be due to the shock, or stress associated with your trauma, or it can be unrelated… but we’re going to run a few more tests to make sure we didn’t miss any internal bleeding.”

In her peripheral vision, Claire watched Jamie’s face fall completely which prevented her from uttering an I told you so in his direction .

“Nurse Duncan will prep you for a CT scan.”

After the doctor made his leave, Geillis turned to Jamie who was pale as the white wall behind him. “We’ll make sure yer lass is just fine," she said, patting his shoulder as if they had been pals for years.

“Everything is going to be fine,” Claire reiterated to Jamie, as much as to herself. 

“We’ll have tae wait three hours for the fluids to pass through ye before we can bring ye tae testing. I suggest ye try yer best tae rest until then, Claire.” 

Claire kept herself from scoffing at the notion of rest because she was, in fact, tired. Before leaving the room, Geillis dimmed the lights and Claire’s heavy eyelids begged her to follow her nurse’s orders.

“Do ye want me tae call Bree?” Jamie asked, not realizing Claire had nearly drifted to sleep just then. His left leg was bouncing up and down, like a galloping horse.

“No,” Claire said. “Let her sleep peacefully tonight. Geillis is right. We should try to rest too.” She let her eyes fall shut and felt around for his hand in the dark.

Chapter Text

“Have ye heard from yer father?” Roger asked from across the dining table. He and Bree had missed breakfast, in favor of sleeping in a bit, but there were enough leftovers to satisfy their late morning hunger.

“I texted him, but no, he hasn’t responded yet. I hope that means they’re resting.” 

“To be sure, it was a long day… Can you pass the jam?” Roger reached out his hand and Bree placed the glass bowl in his palm. Silently, she watched him spread the jelly substance evenly on his scone. She then drained long sips from her cup, hoping to soak up all of the caffeine the green tea had to offer. They locked eyes as she set her cup down. “How did ye sleep?” he asked her.

“Better than Murtagh. He took my Da’s orders to heart and sat up on the couch in my room.”

“Ye could sleep wi’ him watching ye?” Roger himself had considered asking Bree to share a room last night but then thought better of it: it would be too forward. He didn't want to make her uncomfortable.

“Surprisingly yes. I felt safe.”

“Fair point.”

“I sent him to his room after I texted you this morning. So... you’re on make-sure-Brianna-doesn’t-die duty now.” 

“Dinna joke about that," he said sternly. 

“Sorry..." she said awkwardly, regretting the joke. "It's ridiculous anyways, the bad guys are gone."

Roger nodded slowly, but after Claire's accident, which he thought suspicious, he wasn't sure that was true.

"How did you sleep?” she asked him. 

"Verra well. I dinna think I've slept in a more comfortable bed in all my life." 

Brianna personally missed her smaller bed at home: her feather pillows, her quilted blankets, and her various stuffed animals she wasn’t too shy to admit to having. Suddenly, the thought of home felt painful – she wasn’t even sure if she could consider that her home anymore. It was simply the house she was raised in. The house where she loved Frank as her father. The house where she learned of Frank’s death. She cringed at the thought of leaving his grave behind, but she was sure that somewhere in Scotland would be her home soon. Though she was also sure it wouldn’t be this house. 

“I can see yer mind is racing. Do ye want tae talk about it?” 

She had no idea where to start – so much had happened. She wanted to talk about her guilt over Frank, but she didn’t want to sour the mood. She wanted to talk about how she worried about uprooting her entire life, but didn’t think it was appropriate given that her mom was still in the hospital. She wanted to talk about how happy she was for her parents, but was worried there would be listening ears. She wanted to kiss him, but didn’t want him to think she was just using him to avoid her thoughts and feelings.

So, instead, she turned the conversation onto him. “Do you miss home yet?” He opened his mouth but she didn’t let him answer.  “I just don’t want you to feel like you have to stay here with me. You didn’t sign up for hours in a hospital waiting room. I understand if … ” 

“Bree, I want tae be here… If ye want me here.”

“Okay,” she smiled, nodding. 

He took a bite of his scone and then asked a question he wasn't sure he should ask. “What about you? Are ye missin’ home, then?”

“I haven’t really thought much about Boston…” she tucked a loose curl behind her ear. “I don’t even know if I can consider it home anymore.” 

“It was yer home fer all of yer life thus far, Bree, it will always be part of ye. But I think that home can be wherever the people you love welcome ye. Right now, a lot of those people are here.” He moved the bowl of jam out of the way to reach for her hand and she reached back. His hand was a bit clammy, but she found that she didn’t mind it. Her heart started racing in the same way it had each time they kissed. She wondered if she would ever get used to it, she hoped she wouldn’t. 

To avoid leaning in and starting something she wasn’t sure was appropriate for over breakfast, she said the first thing that came to mind. “Mama told me she now wants me to have a party.” 

“Hmm,” he said, sounding slightly confused. “And how do ye feel about that?”

“I think everything going on is crazy and I think she’s crazy! But… there’s also a part of me that agrees with her.”

“Do ye no think it dangerous?” 

“Well, Da’s uncles are gone... I don’t think there’s anyone else to really fear… except the trolls on the internet, maybe. I think it would be a nice distraction for everyone. Something good for the media to cover. Also, I think it would actually be fun to dress up and dance and actually enjoy being a “Fraser.” It would give me a chance to show people that I can fit in… that I belong.” 

“Bree…”

“I know what you’re going to say...” 

“What’s that?” 

“That I don’t need to prove anything to anyone.” 

“So ye do ken it.”

“I do, but I can’t help but feel like it’s necessary. Jamie is the First Minister! So many people respect him. I don’t want my showing up to change that. I want to be accepted.”  

“How could they no?” He said taking the stubborn curl that kept falling from behind her ear between his fingers. 

Before Bree could answer, Mary, the housekeeper, walked in. “Oh, I’m sorry tae bother ye.” 

“It’s no bother," Roger said, wiping his mouth.

“Mary! What are you doing here? Jamie told you to take some time off.”

“Weel, I heard about yer Ma’s accident and thought I would be needed to help out around here.” 

“You’re a very kind person, Mary. Thank you.” 

"It's nothin’, really,” she said as she pushed chairs in at the opposite end of the table.

Bree rolled her eyes playfully before changing the subject. “Do you know where Marsali and Joan are?”

“Och, aye. They’re in the living room watching TV.”

Bree thanked Mary for her help once more before leading Roger into the hall towards the living room. Roger cleared his throat to alert the girls of their presence.

“Roger! Bree!” Marsali leaped out of her chair. “I thought I heard ye come in last night, but I didna want tae disturb ye!” She reached out to give Bree a quick hug around her shoulders. When she pulled away, she asked, “How is yer Ma?” 

“She’s well, considering. She broke a few ribs,” she sighed. “And her nose,” she added, tapping her own. “But nothing that the doctor was really worried about.”

“Och, that’s sae good tae hear. I was verra worried,” she quickly clamped Bree’s hand in her own, and patted Roger’s shoulder before moving back to where she was seated before.

“Marsali and I were praying for her since ye left,” Joanie added in, sweetly as she moved to hug Bree’s legs.

Bree pouted her lip, feeling gratitude and awe.  “Well, they paid off. Thank you so much.”  

“I’m sure ye’ve seen…” Marsali started, lounging back and pulling out her phone. “We’ve been tagged in quite a few nasty posts an’ I have been telling people off left and right on Twitter and Instagram.” 

“I did see...” 

“I’m sorry Bree,” Marsali said with a sigh. 

“It’s not your fault!” 

 “They’re just lookin’ fer clicks and a reaction.”

“Yeah... I’m planning to ignore social media for a bit.” 

“That’s a verra smart plan. Besides, ye have nothin’ tae say. It’s no like any of it is true. Ye’re one of the kindest lasses I’ve ever met. I ken ye’re not here tae break my family apart.” 

Bree’s gut fell through the floor. She looked down to find her fingers fidgeting. No, of course she wasn’t there to break her family apart, but in a way… she was responsible for the changes to come. 

She was the catalyst and it was inevitable for someone to get hurt. 

No matter what, she promised herself, she would make sure Marsali and Joan knew that she wanted to share Jamie with them. He was their Da first, after all.

She stayed silent for too long, hoping Roger would jump in at some point to save her. When he didn’t, she said, “no, it has never been my intention to take Jamie from you.” 

“We ken,” Joanie said with a bright smile. Her auburn locks were floating all over the place. 

“Ye deserve tae have Da in yer life, Bree. He’s th’ best,” Marsali tried assuring her with information Bree already knew. Within hours of knowing Jamie, she knew she could never regret coming to find him. Again, she stayed silent too long, and once she pulled herself out of her thoughts, she found Marsali staring at her. “Ye look like ye need a distraction. Do ye want tae watch Netflix wi’ us?” 

“Sure, that sounds nice. Speaking of distractions… I was also hoping you both would be willing to help with the party again..”

“Really?” Marsali seemed decently surprised. “With everythin’ goin’ on?”  

“Mama wants me, er, us to have fun… and I think it’ll be nice for the media to have something light to report about our family, don’t you?”

Marsali nodded, “Aye, we can show everyone how much we actually like each other!”

Joanie was bouncing with joy. “With fancy dresses and loud music and cute boys and all that?” 

“Yes, but I’ll need your help to look enough like a Lady to make Scotland proud,” she said motioning to her current state. She was dressed for the day, wearing her Harvard sweatshirt and leggings, hair up in a messy bun, nails lacquered in chipped black nail polish. 

“We can definitely help ye wi’ that,” Marsali boasted. Bree knew she was good for it after exploring her Instagram page - she had enough followers to be considered a social media influencer and most of her photos were #ootd (outfits of the day.)

“I dinna think my Ma had time to cancel any of th’ bookings, I’ll text her now tae let her ken ye changed yer mind! She’ll be thrilled!” 

“Oh, no… you don’t have to… she doesn’t have to do anything. My Da said he would have one of his aids help us.” 

“Don’t be daft! No one plans a better event than my Ma and Auntie G.”

Roger awkwardly swayed, waiting for Bree to offer up an excuse but she couldn’t think of one. What could she say? No, Marsali, I don’t think that’s a good idea because Jamie is calling off his engagement to your mom so that he can finally marry mine?

“Whatever you think is best,” she would have said if she hadn’t been distracted by someone yelling quite loudly in the hall somewhere. Bree looked at Roger, who grabbed her by the hand and slowly led her toward the shouting. 

“James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser! How dare ye say ye canna talk right now and then go on ignorin’ me! I swear to Christ when I see ye I’m goin’ tae smack ye sae hard…” 

When they saw it was only a petite brunette who was shouting, Roger moved to stand beside Bree, instead of in front of her. Noticing the movement, the woman turned to find familiar eyes staring back at her. “Ye must be Brianna,” she said, pronouncing her name the same way her Da had that first time – rolling the ‘r’ and taking too much time to get through the rest of it.

“I… I am.” Brianna’s smile grew in tandem with the woman who stood before her, taking her in.

“I’m yer Auntie Jenny,” she said, and then pulled her niece into her chest as if she were the taller of the two.

Chapter Text

Jamie sat on his phone waiting for Claire to return from her CT scan. Despite his title and a solid effort on his part, he wasn’t allowed into the testing area. Claire rolled her eyes at his desperate efforts. Anxiety had been present in his gut since he was told she was in an accident, but it was at ease with her in front of him, where he could watch her breathe. Now, he was finding the anxiety to be quite intrusive. He considered closing his eyes but ended up reaching for his phone instead. 

Since leaving for the hospital, Jamie had been ignoring the buzzing in his pocket (as well as his First Minister duties) for the most part which meant he now had a slew of notifications to distract him. He figured he could start by catching up on some work emails but felt immediately overwhelmed. Typically, he allowed his assistant to tell him which emails were important and in need of his immediate attention. 

So he decided to check his texts instead. Most of the notifications were from Jenny. He didn’t want to have to explain everything going on with Claire just yet, especially now that she was back in testing, nor did he want to lie to her… so he just ignored her instead. Which he was sure he would be hearing about later.  He also ignored a good morning text from Bree, for much of the same reasoning. Surprisingly, he noted that he hadn’t heard from Laoghaire at all. 

Below Bree, there were texts from John Grey, his detective friend, and Ansley Cameron, his assistant, both sent him links to a Daily Record article with variations of a “have you seen this?” message. He clicked on one. 

Seeing his daughter’s name and face next to an unkind, assuming headline sent him spiraling. After reading through a few different articles, he then scrolled through comments, which was a mistake. He clenched his jaw, as well as the hand that held his phone. Rubbing the arch of his nose with his free hand, he whispered “A Dhia” into the dark. He hoped Bree had somehow avoided seeing any of this but he knew it was a foolish hope. At least I can be sure that Claire hasn’t , he thought. They had some unkind things to infer about her as well. 

Jamie felt hot as he typed furiously in reply to his assistant about drafting a statement immediately but before he could finish his thoughts and hit send, Claire’s nurse bounded into the room.

By the look of shock on her face, Geillis was not expecting to find him sitting there in the dark. But there was something else there on her face and Jamie thought it must be something bad.

“Is everything okay wi’ Claire?” he asked, worried by the expression on her face.

“Claire?” She was out of breath. “Och, yeah. Dinna fash.”

“What is it then?”

“One of the wee bastards escaped from Peds. We’re about to head intae a full-on lockdown if we dinna find him quickly. Have ye seen a boy? He’s about this tall,” she extended a level hand into the air from her stomach. “And he has a mop of brown hair.” 

“Nae,” he shook his head. “I havna seen any children.” 

“Bollocks!” she cried. “Keep a lookout, would ye? He’s a sneaky wee thing.” 

“Will do,” he said, casually, then quickly resumed typing his message to Ansley. With a final look around the room, Geillis was gone. 

Ansley quickly responded, saying that she would contact his press team, but knew that they would prefer a live or pre-recorded video statement for this. He looked around the room, the only light was streaming in from the hallway through a crooked blind. I dinna think a hospital is the best place for me to reassure constituents that everything is fine, he texted back. 

She agreed, promised to have a draft for him within the hour and then asked if he wanted to provide a direct quote for the release. A quote, he thought. How in the hell do I sum up the past few days in just a quote? Then, suddenly, his thumbs were running wild across the qwerty keys.  

Tell them to use the following, he wrote . Like you, I did not know of my daughter’s existence until this week. Her mother had dire reasons for keeping her hidden for the past 18 years and I hope to one day share the whole truth with you all. For now, all I can and will say is that I feel as if I have known and loved my daughter Brianna all my life. She is very much like her mother: daring, intelligent, strong, loyal, and as you are all aware: beautiful. We will be formally introducing her to you all soon, but for now, I ask that you be kind and respect our privacy as we spend time together as a family. 

He pressed send, then nearly dropped his phone when he found a pair of bright eyes in the dark.

“Do you always talk to yourself?” the wee voice asked in what sounded like a french accent.

“I didna realize I was…” 

“Oh. Well, you were...and talking about girls? Ewwww.” 

“What are you doing?” Jamie asked, as he noticed the boy was rummaging through his bag. “Wait!” Jamie said suddenly, realizing he was sitting there, talking to a child. A small boy with a mop of dark hair. “Ye’re the boy they’re lookin’ fer!” 

The boy froze. “I am. But please, please don’t say anything! I hate it here! They keep sticking me with things and making me eat gross stuff!”

“They’re tryin’ tae make ye feel better, lad.” 

“No, they aren’t! My foster parents just don’t want to deal with me anymore.” 

Jamie hoped it wasn’t true, but couldn’t bring himself to fight the boy on it. “Well maybe if ye stayed put... instead of sneaking off and going through other peoples’ things…” he started, but then saw the boy flinch despite his joking tone.

“I was only joking lad,” Jamie said. He wanted to pat him on the shoulder, but didn’t know what kind of illness he was admitted with so he thought better of it.

“I know, it’s just… everyone is always blaming me…” His small voice fell off as he sniffled.

“I understand. With my job, I get a lot of blame for things that aren’t really my fault.”

“You do?” He completely abandoned the bag now, and stood up to be at eye level with Jamie. “What is your job?”

“It doesna matter. What does matter is that these doctors and nurses are trying tae look out fer ye, despite what ye may think, because that is their job -- tae make sure ye go home healthy.” 

“I don’t have a home,” he pouted and then made a move to run off but Jamie was quicker than him and caught him by the arm. Jamie brought him closer to where he was sitting and patted him a few times on the shoulder once he was sure he wouldn’t try to run again.

“Listen, lad, they’re going to sound a loud, scary alarm soon because they are lookin’ fer ye. Do ye want that? The whole hospital lookin’ fer ye?” 

“Well...no,” the boy admitted. 

“So let’s get ye back where ye belong, then.” 

“Will you go with me?”

He looked at his phone for the time. By the estimate given to him by the CT tech, he had another hour of waiting. 

“Aye, I can take ye. What’s yer name, lad?” 

“My birth certificate says Claudel but I don’t really like it. So I go by Fergus.” 

“Fergus. I like it. Verra manly,” Jamie tried winking, but it ended up looking more like a disoriented blink. The attempt gave his new companion a chuckle. “Well, Fergus… lead the way.”

He followed Fergus out past the nurses’ station where he thought they might be stopped by Geillis, or some other nurse. When they weren’t, they continued on to the lift. 

Fergus clicked the button with an arrow pointing up. Seconds went by before the boy interrupted the silence. “Hey, wait a minute…  I told you my name. What’s yours?” 

“I’m James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser.” 

“Woah! Tant de noms!

“Oui. Trop. Mais mes amis m'appellent Jamie.”

“You know French?”

“Oui. Un peu,” Jamie was being modest, of course. He was fluent in many languages, including French. 

When the door to the lift finally slid open, Jamie motioned for Fergus to go ahead. The nurse closest to the buttons asked Jamie, “What floor?” politely, but it was Fergus who responded, “5! S’il vous plait.” 

Suddenly, the nurse became aware of the boy’s presence, and brought her eyes lower. “You!” 

“C’est moi!” he said playfully. 

“They’re looking all over for you!” she retorted from the corner.

“I don’t know why. I’m right here!” 

Jamie grumbled at Fergus, in an effort to get him to quit teasing. “I’m escorting the boy back to his room.” 

The nurse pressed another button before speaking again. “So why is he taking you to the cafeteria, then?” She asked, crossing her arms. 

“Fergus!” Jamie shouted, turning to face the boy. “I dinna have time for games. My wife will be back from her tests soon! I dinna want her tae come back to an empty room. I said I would take ye tae yer room. That’s it.” His voice was louder than he had maybe intended.

“I’m sorry Jamie, I didn’t know about your wife! I swear!” 

Jamie didn’t correct him to say that technically Claire wasn’t his wife yet. He had been the one to use the word first, after all. Instead he watched how Fergus’ face had fallen from playful to full of sorrow.

“It’s okay. I’m still coming with ye.” 

“Thanks for finding him,” the nurse said to Jamie as the doors opened on floor 7. “This is Peds. You can check him back in at the front with Saorise.” 

He nodded to her, before guiding Fergus out of the lift and towards the front desk. 

Once they checked him back in, everyone was over-the-top excited to see him. Jamie thought it was a bit much, but was glad they were being kind, instead of letting any anger or frustration they might actually be feeling show.

“Can you come visit me before you leave, Jamie?” 

“Sure, lad.” He promised, though he wasn’t sure when that would be or if the boy would still be here. He pat his legs as he got comfortable under his blanket. “So, what’s yer favorite snack from th’ cafeteria?”

Jamie’s question sent Fergus on a rant about how he loves red and green jell-o, but all the nurses ever bring him is orange jell-o. Before they were even able to approach another topic, Jamie’s phone was going off. It was a full volume tone, so he knew exactly who it had to be.

Claire was back from testing sooner than expected and had enough time to text him. “Mhac na galla,” he cursed. “Lad, I have tae go.”

He expected a fight, or at the very least a whine, from the boy but was presented with neither. Just a smile and an understanding nod. Jamie tried winking again, thinking he could at least leave Fergus with a wee laugh.

Once he was out of the room, he was racing towards the lift. It was an effort to ignore the nurses who wanted to thank him again for finding and bringing the escaped patient back.

When he got to Claire, he was nearly out of breath, but he was able to ask if she was okay.

“I am…” she said, hesitantly. “However, they did find some internal bleeding.” 

“What?!” he nearly shrieked, stepping closer to her.

“Sit,” she ordered him with her softest voice and he obeyed. “Hemorrhaging, or internal bleeding, is common with trauma. From here, they could do exploratory surgery, or they could wait to see how my body heals itself. I think we’re leaning towards the latter. The concerning aspect is that the bleeding is right above my uterus which made it difficult to see the organ on the scan.” 

He looked like a child in maths class trying to understand a new equation. “They don’t sound too concerned,” she tried to reassure him. “But it could potentially be bad news for that particular organ.”

“But they dinna ken yet?” 

“No, as of right now, everything is stable.” 

“Okay, I like stable. I understand that one.” Jamie stood up to lean over and kiss Claire oh so gently on the mouth. “I’ve missed ye.” 

“I wasn’t gone long!” 

“Long enough fer me tae get intae trouble.”

“Trouble, hmm?” She teased. “Up for some more? Kiss me again.” She wet her lips, and then puckered them, expecting another kiss. He raised his eyebrows, before seemingly obliging. But instead, he bypassed her lips and left kisses on each of her cheeks. Her lips transformed into a pout by the time he pulled away. A pout he couldn’t resist. With the gentleness of a fluttering butterfly, he brushed her lips once more.

“We should talk about what could happen.”

He grunted. “I think I’d rather not.” He could barely wrap his mind around what was already explained to him, let alone what could potentially happen if things were to go bad. 

“Don’t you want more children? You always said you wanted enough for a rugby team.” Claire didn’t realize she was crying until a tear ran into her mouth. Jamie wiped away the next before she could taste it.

“Children?” Confusion faded as he let the word out. He hadn’t even thought about those implications. “I am overjoyed wi’ th’ children ye have given me, Sassenach. Faith, Bree. I couldna wish fer anything else but yer safety now.”

When he spoke to her, she believed him. She believed him because she felt the same. For so long, all she wanted was to keep him and Bree safe. 

Maybe he doesn’t even realize that he’s lying , she thought. Somewhere deep inside of him might grow to resent her. She almost resented herself. Then she thought of Laoghaire and her still youthful, child-bearing hips. She’d just love to give him a son.

He could tell she was falling over an edge with her thoughts. He grabbed for her hand to bring her back to him.

“All that matters to me is that we are together and that our family is safe, Sassenach. Are we together?” 

“Yes.”

“Is our family safe?”

“I think so.” 

“Then all is right in the world. Now, I think we have tae call Bree.” He picked up his phone to display a screen full of missed calls and texts.

Chapter Text

“Aunt Jenny,” Bree repeated out loud. 

Jenny was taken aback by her accent, unsure what she was expecting. While she was unmistakably the spawn of the First Minister of Scotland... she was raised by an Englishwoman in America, after all.

“It is quite somethin’ tae meet ye, Brianna. I canna believe ye're real.” Jenny slid her hands up and down her niece’s arms as if trying to convince herself of her physical presence. “Ye remind me sae much of Jamie.” 

Bree nodded, biting her lip. She wasn’t blind. She knew she had his hair, eyes, and height but to hear it from his sister, the person who maybe knew him best in the world… it was something else. Despite trying, she couldn’t contain her feelings.

“Yer smile…” Jenny continued, blinking away tears before turning to face the stranger she hadn’t yet met. “And who might this be? Yer boyfriend?” 

“Umm…” they both stuttered in reply, looking to each other for an answer to that question, but not finding it. When Brianna finally found her words, she introduced him by his name, no title.

“Hello, Roger,” Jenny said, skeptically. 

“Hello, Jenny,” he said, reaching out his hand to meet hers.

“Oh! Yer a Scot!” 

“I am,” he smiled, hoping it was a positive that would lead to her eventual approval. 

“So? Are ye?”

“Am I what?” 

“Her boyfriend?” 

“I… I’m workin’ on it,” he said, with a shy confidence. 

“Does my brother ken?” 

“Well he caught us kissing so I’d say so,” Brianna interjected.

“Oof, I’m sorry lass. I hope he went easy on ye, Roger.”

Roger allowed himself to think back to the moment they were caught. Roger distinctly remembered the disapproving look on Jamie’s face and his clenched fists. Had they not received news of Claire’s accident, Roger might very well be sporting hues of blue and purple on his face just now.

“It will be fine,” Jenny said, registering the look on Roger’s face. “My brother is a big softie.”

“Soft isna the first word I would use tae describe that man.”

“I would,” Bree said. “You’ve seen him with Mama.” 

“Aye, I have,” Roger confessed. “I dinna think he’ll ever be quite sae soft wi’ me, though...” 

As if being switched on, Jenny suddenly lit up. “Yer Ma! Claire,” She said, almost fondly. “Where is she? Where is my brother? Are they holed up somewhere making up fer lost time?” Jenny spewed her questions so fast, Brianna couldn’t interrupt. 

“Actually…” Brianna approached the truth cautiously. “Mama was in a car accident. She’s in the hospital now. Da is with her.”

“Ah Dhia!” Jenny cried in shock and regret. “Is she alright lass? I’m sae sorry… I had no idea… and all this time yer lettin’ me go on and on…” 

“It’s okay. She’s doing well. She broke her nose and a few ribs and she has a punctured lung.” Jenny’s face twisted with concern, but it lessened as Brianna spoke with confidence her mother would be fine. “I was sent home to rest and I haven’t heard from them yet this morning. As soon as I do, I’ll be heading back there.” 

“And I’ll be goin’ with ye,” Jenny declared.

“I’m sure Mama would love to see you.”

“Ye think so?” When Brianna nodded emphatically, Jenny continued. “Well there goes my plan fer givin’ her hell fer keeping ye away sae long! I canna yell at an injured woman!”

“Aunt Jenny…”

“Dinna fash, Brianna. Yer Da explained some of it tae me – about our filthy uncles. They are the only ones to resent… and maybe myself for no seein’ it… fer believing yer Ma would ever leave us by choice... she was my sister, ken?” 

Brianna was in awe of the depth of emotion weaved within her newfound Aunt’s words and overflowing brown eyes. With a gulp, she swallowed her own overwhelming joy at the thought of having found not only a loving father, but a loving family. Just months ago, she felt as though she and her mother were very much alone in the world.

“Mama wouldn’t want you to blame yourself. I don’t want you to blame yourself. She told me about you, you know. She told me stories growing up about her and Jamie – The Adventures of Elizabeth and Alexander. Her stories didn’t often include other characters but Alexander did have a sister named Janet… who was stubborn, loud and strong. It had to be you.”

“My given name is Janet.” 

“See? She loves you still and she wanted me to know you.” 

Jenny moved to capture her niece in her arms, but was halted by the sound of a small voice bouncing down the hallway calling out for her.

“Aunt Jenny!” 

“A leannan!” Jenny opened her arms and crouched low to the floor to meet Joanie.

Brianna took a step back to allow for the reunion.  Marsali was not far behind but she was not quite so loud about her excitement. 

“When ye didna return tae watch Netflix, we figured ye might need us… and look who ye have found!” 

Jenny stood up, letting Joanie out of her embrace to meet Marsali. “Marsali! Look at ye! How bonnie ye are!” 

“Thank ye,” she twirled her skirt a bit and used a sugary sweet voice Bree hadn’t heard from her before. Jenny looked her up and down, stopping at her feet. “Are those…?” 

Marsali pointed her toes out to show off her boots. “Aye! They’re th’ ones ye sent me!” she said excitedly before rushing in for a hug as tight as the one Jenny had offered Joanie. Instead of watching the embrace, Brianna drew circles in the carpet with her own toes.

A quiet moment passed before Marsali pulled away. “What are ye doin’ here?” she asked. 

“Weel... I was lookin’ fer my brathair.” 

“Oh! Da just texted me. He’s planning to stay in Edinburgh.”

Jenny nodded, but Brianna was struck by the news… any news from her father. “You heard from him today?” she asked Marsali. 

“Aye, just a bit ago.” 

Brianna checked her phone then, hoping to find something from him as well. When she didn’t, she tried her best to hide her grimace. While the women in the room were oblivious, Brianna’s annoyance did not go unnoticed by Roger. 

Roger and Brianna stood quietly in the circle while Marsali, Joanie and Jenny continued catching up with each other. Despite their chatter, all five of them turned to the front door at the sound of the twisting knob and voices.

“Ma! Aunt G!” Marsali and Joanie harmonized as the two women entered the house, illuminated by the rays of the mid morning sun. 

“What are ye doing back sae soon? I thought the two of ye were shopping fer the rest of the day.” 

“We were planning on it, but there were too many paparazzi following us. Simply trying to visit the shops was a complete nuisance!” Laoghaire bemoaned.

“Hmm and here I thought ye were a fan of th’ paparazzi,” Roger mumbled under his breath, and Bree bumped him with her hip. Whether in approval, or not, he wasn’t sure.

“What did you say, Richard?” Geneva asked.

Brianna barely had a chance to open her mouth to correct Geneva. Jenny beat her to it. “It’s Roger,” she blurted, making herself known to the new arrivals.

“Oh, hello, Janet,” Laoghaire muttered. 

“Hello, good tae see ye again, Laoghaire, Geneva,” Jenny said, convincing no one. “Ye look well. ”

Everyone else might as well have faded away as Laoghaire, Geneva and Jenny stood their ground. Brianna hadn’t known her Aunt Jenny for more than twenty minutes, but there was no mistaking her distaste: it was as plain as any emotion her mother’s infamous glass face had ever displayed.  

A long moment passed before Geneva spoke directly to Brianna, snapping her out of her thoughts. “So… Laoghaire told me about your mum and I wanted to get you something pretty to make you feel better!” Geneva held out a garment bag that fell to the floor.

“Oh wow! You shouldn’t have,” Bree said. Geneva shoved the bag into her hands.

“It’s perfect for ye! And Marsali told me that ye changed yer mind again… and that you do want tae have the ball. So ye can wear it then!” 

“Ball?” Brianna asked. “Is that the same as a party?”

“I do hope this is your final decision. It would look God awful for us to cancel everything now,” Geneva added, nearly cutting Brianna off.” 

“Of course not… um… thank you for the dress,” she said, lifting her arm that held the bag concealing the gift. 

“Don’t mention it! I’m sure you weren’t expecting to go to a ball while you were packing for your trip.” 

“You could say that again.” 

“So you needed a dress.” 

“I guess so...” Brianna said, hesitant.

“Lovely. I am excited to see it on you!” 

Brianna hesitantly nodded. Unsure what to expect, or if it would even fit. She was taller than the average 18-year-old, after all. 

“How is your mum?” Geneva asked. Brianna wondered briefly if she did so that Laoghaire didn’t have to fake concern.

“Da said she’s doing well,” Marsali answered for Brianna. In response, Brianna bit back another surge of annoyance, but managed to offer a nod to supplement Marsali’s claim. This time, Jenny wasn’t so oblivious to Brianna’s reaction.

“If ye’ll excuse us, ladies. We have plans,” Jenny grabbed Brianna by the arm and nodded to Roger to follow them. They did not wait for a response before moving. They did however, stop briefly to bundle up before heading outside. While they did so, all of the women they left standing in a newly formed circle offered “Goodbyes” “Goodlucks” and “See you soons!” 

“Ye willna be wearing that God awful dress,” Jenny said, mocking Geneva’s voice.

“How do you know it’s God awful?” 

“Geneva picked it out.” 

“You don’t like her very much, huh?” 

“That’s putting it lightly, a leannan.”

Brianna smiled at the endearment and stuck close to her aunt’s side as they made their way to her  car.

“It’s my fault they ever met,” Jenny sighed as she bucked up to drive. 

“Who? Laoghaire and Geneva?” Brianna asked as she adjusted in the passenger seat.

Roger was settling in the back, but leaned in slightly to hear the conversation better.

“Nae, Laoghaire and Jamie...”

“Oh,” she breathed out, unsure of what to say. 

“I am sorry fer it. I wouldha never introduced them or pushed him tae move on had I known…” 

“None of this is your fault,” she turned to look upon her aunt’s profile. “I can see that. And I am grateful he wasn’t alone and miserable all this time…” 

“He wasna alone, to be sure, but he was always miserable without Claire, a leannan,” she said, her voice cracking as she pulled her gear shift into reverse.

Chapter Text

The drive to the hospital was longer than Brianna remembered it being. With the garment bag on her lap, Brianna fidgeted with her phone. Now that she knew he was responding to some messages, she had called and texted Jamie again, letting him know that she was on her way over. And that they had a surprise in tow. 

Jamie didn’t respond until they were pulling into the carpark. “Da” lit up her screen as her phone buzzed. She looked over to her aunt who had turned the already low volume of the radio down instinctively. 

“You are alive!” Brianna joked as she answered the phone, despite her actual anguish.

“I am. I am sorry fer no responding earlier, I was waiting…” his voice fell off, she imagined he was looking at her mother for permission.

“Waiting?” she asked, wanting him to continue.

“We’ll explain once yer here,” he said quietly. 

“I’m outside! In the parking lot! I’ll be right there,” she hung up the phone without saying goodbye. 

Brianna unbuckled and then twisted to throw the garment bag into the back of the car. Then Roger was opening her passenger door before she could do it herself. “Oh shit! I forgot to tell Murtagh we were leaving! He’s going to be so pissed at me.” 

“Doubtful.”

“What?” She said turning to Roger. 

“It’s just… in his eyes… I mebbe think ye could do nae wrong,” Roger had spent a good amount of time with the man in the past 24 hours and was quite sure of his soft spot for Brianna. 

“Well, I’ll just text him and let him know…” She said, thinking out loud. But then she remembered the brick of plastic and numbered buttons the man called a cell phone. “Or… maybe I should call him?” 

“I’ll call him,” Roger said. “You go see yer Ma. I’ll let him know we were in a rush tae get away from yer evil step-mother and that Jenny is wi’ us.” 

Brianna almost let him get away with the evil step-mother reference, but decided he deserved a light punch instead. “Don’t call her that! She’s not my step-mother ,”  Brianna looked up at him with an impish smile. He let out a belly laugh that had Jenny turning back to see what on earth was going on.

“Let’s go!” She called out for them to follow her into the building.

Leaving Roger outside to make his call with decent service, Jenny and Brianna made their way through visitor check-in and up to her mother’s floor. 

Since being admitted, Claire had been moved to an actual room outside of the Emergency Center. Which meant that she was allowed more than one visitor without flashing any First Minister privileges. 

“I’m nervous something bad has happened,” Brianna said to the closing doors of the lift.  Jenny didn’t say anything, she simply reached for Brianna’s hand. The gesture told Brianna was that no matter what happens: she wasn’t alone.

Not letting go of her hand, Brianna led her aunt to her mother’s room. When they walked in, both of her parents looked up at them. Jamie stood, with a look of guilt plastered across his face. Claire looked as if she had seen a ghost. 

Jamie spoke first. “I am sorry fer ignorin’ ye both.”

“Aye, we’ll get tae that, brother.” Jenny said, moving into the room without Brianna. She stood in front of Claire’s bed.  “My God, Claire, how do ye look sae beautiful, even now?”

Jamie’s worried frown turned over into a smile then. 

Claire rolled her welling eyes, before smiling too. “Jenny… “ she inched herself up in the bed, managing to do so without wincing. “I wasn’t expecting to see you!”

“Weel my clotheid of a brother wouldna answer his phone so I had nae choice but to drive out to th’ house! And what do I come tae find out? Ye were in an accident!” 

“I…”

“No need tae explain anything.” She said, tossing a look to her brother, and then moved even closer to the foot of Claire’s bed. She reached out for what she imagined were her toes, hidden under the blankets. “I’m just…  sae happy tae see ye again, Claire.” 

Claire let out a relieved breath, one she had been holding since imagining this particular reunion. 

Jenny glanced at the machines next to Claire’s bed, behind Jamie’s head, before she locked eyes with Claire once more. “Dinna leave us ever again, ye hear me?” 

“I hear you,” Claire replied, not daring to look away from Jenny. Jamie was right, she had grown softer with age, Claire thought.

“Are you okay?” Brianna was still standing in the door frame. 

“Well, I am… however… they did find some internal bleeding.” 

“What?! Why didn’t you tell me?” Brianna looked to her father, using a tone he had never heard from her before. She was angry. “You had all the time in the world to text Marsali…” 

Jamie sat in silence, so Claire intervened.“I asked him not to, smudge. I wanted you to have a restful night of sleep and to maybe have some answers for you when you returned.” 

Jenny assessed the situation, looking from mother to daughter. “Let’s give th’ lass a few moments alone with her mother, aye? Jamie, I need tae talk tae ye.” 

Jamie nodded to Jenny. “I’m sorry, a leannan,” he said softly as he made his way past his daughter. 

They left Claire and Brianna alone, closing the door behind them. In the hallway, Jenny grabbed Jamie by the arm, not so gently, then smacked his bicep. “That’s fer no responding tae our texts or calls.” Then she smacked him upside the head. “That’s fer no gettin’ rid of Laoghaire yet!” 

“I’ve been a bit busy, Janet,” he said, rubbing the base of his skull with the arm she hadn’t smacked. 

“Aye,” she said, taking in their surroundings. “But still… she’s walkin’ around th’ house wi’ no a care in th’ world?”

“I dinna ken what goes on in her head, Jenny. I told her how I feel about Claire...” 

“And yet she still wears the ring? Hmph. And then there’s Geneva… giving Brianna gifts…” she scoffed. “Those two are up tae no good.” 

“I canna worry about that right now,” Jamie said, glancing toward the door to Claire’s room. 

Jenny was hesitant to let her worry go, but knew she had more ground to cover. “I saw th' articles about Brianna.” 

“Then you know how they will react tae me telling the truth about Laoghaire... and Claire. I canna do anything about it while she is in the hospital. I need to get her somewhere I can protect her first.” 

Jenny was skeptical, but she wasn’t part of The First Minister circus. She had a front row ticket, at best. 

“And what of our uncles? Do ye ken anything that the news doesna ken?"

“John Grey has assured me that they will be punished to the fullest extent of the law.” 

“Good. They deserve tae burn in hell for what they did tae our family.” 

“Aye," he agreed through his clenched jaw. "Thank you for being… so kind tae Claire.”

“O'course, brother." Jenny took him by the arm again, this time she was gentle about it. Together, they walked in slow loops around the entire floor.

“Do ye think Bree will forgive me?” 

“Of course she will.” She squeezed his arm. “Ye’ll see… over time… yer relationship wi’ yer children is none so fragile. Do ye ken how many times Janet has told me she hates me?” He knew it was rhetorical, but nodded anyway. “But then a few hours later she’ll come intae my room and cuddle intae my breast and everything is just fine. Ye’ll get there wi’ Brianna, it’ll just take some time… may I offer ye some advice?” 

“Since when do ye ask?” 

“I can see she feels insecure when it comes tae her place here wi’ you. Ye shouldha seen her face when she found out that you texted Marsali back but not her. She may be grown, but she is still a lass who grew up wi’out her Da. Ye’ll have tae prove tae her yer no going anywhere.”

“Aye... I have just written a statement tae the press tae show them how much I care fer her and I will do my best tae make sure she kens it as well.” 

“I have faith in you, James Fraser. It’s only been a few days and you… seem different. Settled. Happy, even, despite our current setting.” 

“Aye,” he said, biting back what he knew would be a large, ridiculous smile.

They made their way past the nurses station one last time before heading back to the room. 

Jenny knocked lightly on the door, which she found to be ajar. 

“Come in!” Brianna and Claire echoed each other. 

Upon stepping inside, neither Brianna nor Claire were the first to capture her attention. Instead, it was a small boy who sat on the edge of the bed. 

“Fergus!” Jamie called out, maneuvering his way around Jenny. 

“Salut, Jamie!”

“What are ye doin’ here, lad? Did ye run away again?” 

“Well… the nurses said that someone was coming to pick me up and I didn’t want to leave without saying au revoir! So here I am! Back where we met!”

“So this is the troublemaker... you ran into earlier, hmm?” Claire asked. “He’s been a darling to us.”

“Troublemaker? Moi? Non!” Fegus giggled and moved to his knees on the bed.. From where Jamie stood, it looked as if he were sitting on top of Claire’s legs. 

“Be careful, lad!” 

“He’s fine, Jamie,” Claire responded with an arm out to stop him from removing the boy. “So you were saying... you don’t like your foster family very much?”

“No! They’re just awful… They leave me here whenever they don’t want to deal with me! I’m not sick, I just have... special needs! They don’t allow me to play, or speak french or do anything but stupid chores!” 

“Have you told anyone?” Brianna asked. 

“Everyone! No one cares!” 

“Well, we care.” Brianna said. Looking at Jamie for the first time since he left, she said, “I’m sure the First Minister could pull a few strings,” and then turned back to Claire. “Don’t you think, Mama?” 

“Or maybe I could come live with you!” Fergus bounced up and down, careful not to move the bed or Claire’s injured body. “I swear I do not mind doing chores so long as I can play a little!” 

“Fergus… lad…” Jamie started but then Claire’s eyes, crystal clear as the ocean off one of the Isles, were begging him not to say no. 

They stayed locked on each other and quiet.

After their conversation about children earlier, Claire knew she would reconcile the idea of never having another child of her own should it come to that. She also knew that she would carry regret for the rest of her life should she never raise a child with Jamie.

But now, here was this chance, right in her lap. Whether it was for a while, or forever, this boy needed them. 

As if she had spoken her thoughts out loud to him, Jamie nodded to her.

“Fergus, we’re going to see what we can do,” Claire said boldly. “I like you a lot,” she winked. 

“I like you too, milady! And you can wink way better than him!” he said, pointing to Jamie. She smiled at that, and then turned to find Jamie, Jenny and Brianna sharing similar expressions.

“What’d I miss?” Roger asked, standing in the doorframe.

“Who’s that guy?” Fergus asked Jamie. 

“I could ask th’ same of you, laddie,” Roger said, taking small steps into the crowded room. 

“Je suis Fergus.” 

“Allo, Fergus. I’m Roger, Brianna’s boyfriend.”

“Ew!” Fergus groaned. The rest turned to Brianna, who was blushing red to match her locks. Jamie groaned audibly, but they all ignored him.

“That’s what you think!” She said, standing to join him at the door. She leaned her head down to plant a kiss on his cheek. “You talked to Murtagh?” 

“Aye, all is well wi' th' old coot," he said smiling.

“Fergus?” Brianna turned and took a step away from Roger. “Let’s go get you some of that red Jell-O from the cafeteria.” 

“Really?” he squealed, jumping off the bed. Brianna reached out a hand for him to grab. He hesitated to take it, but grabbed onto her sleeve. Jenny watched them leave, with a content grin.

“Do ye truly want to…?” Jamie asked Claire, not even sure what he meant to ask.

“Let’s get me out of here... and then, yes. I do want to. I know things are beyond complicated... but I just have this...gut feeling that he’s meant to be with us...” 

“Aye,” he said, smiling. He had a similar gut feeling as he returned the boy to the pediatrics floor earlier. A feeling that he wasn’t meant to leave him behind. “I’ll go talk to th' nurses on his floor fer more information,” he said, leaning over to kiss her forehead before disappearing. 

When everyone else was gone, Jenny quietly sat beside Claire. Jenny picked up her left hand, and fiddled with the ring Jamie placed on her finger the night before. 

“I’ve missed ye, Claire. Thank ye fer keeping my niece safe. And fer bringing my brother back tae me.” 

“I’ve missed you too, Jenny. More than I can say. You were like a sister to me.” 

“I am yer sister, Claire. Nothin’ can change that. No even th' worst of schemes or evil-doers," Jenny smirked, let go of Claire's hand, then planted both of hers on the side rail of the bed. "Now, speaking of... tell me, what can I do about Laoghaire?”

“Laoghaire? She’s harmless enough…It’s just a tough situation for her... and I get that.” 

“You dinna know her like I do, Claire. She’s vindictive.” 

“Well,” Claire thought back to her run-in with Laoghaire in the hall. “You might be right… but I… can’t worry about her right now.” 

“Och, ye sound like Jamie,” she rolled her eyes. “No, ye’re right. That’s what I’m sayin’... let me worry about it.” 

“Jenny…” 

“Dinna fash, Claire. I wilna do anything she wouldna do.”

Chapter Text

The day after visiting Claire in the hospital, Jenny returned to Lallybroch. Though she thought twice about leaving Brianna in a house with Laoghaire… she ultimately trusted Murtagh to watch over the girl. Much like her brother did. Upon her arrival home, her children (all five of them) bombarded her with questions. Most of them, save Young Ian who was just mimicking his older siblings, were curious to know if there was truth to what they had been reading online. Jenny humored none of the rumors and simply said they would have to wait to meet Brianna, and Claire, for themselves. A choir of groans and whines told her that not a single child was satisfied with her response, and her mother’s intuition told her they would not be giving up so easily. At the very least, her husband Ian knew not to ask similar questions. He only kissed her deeply to let her know that he was happy she was home. 

In the days leading up to the party that would formally introduce Brianna to her family (and the world,) she spoke frequently with Jamie and Claire. All the while, she busied herself reimagining her Brianna’s dress for the occasion. As she suspected, Geneva’s gift was a wretched, offensive thing and no auntie in the world would let a beloved niece be caught dead in such garb. Luckily for Brianna, her auntie was skilled with a sewing machine. 

She had never taken on such a large project on such a tight deadline, but she took it on with pride and made something quite beautiful. She even put pieces of Geneva’s dress to use, for both petty and sustainable reasons. 

Jenny was excited to show Brianna the transformation, as she hadn’t mentioned that she was creating a completely new dress for her. Her niece was under the impression she was only tailoring it to fit better. Jenny was not concerned that Brianna would be upset with the new dress, because she had seen her face when she tried the original on. She absolutely hated it. 

“It’ll have to do…” Brianna had said to her reflection in the mirror, though she didn’t recognize herself.  Somehow, she looked frumpy and scandalous. Admittedly, she wasn’t the biggest fan of dresses. She much preferred pants to frills, but she desired to dress up for the occasion – to look the part of The First Minister’s daughter. 

With her mother in the hospital and the Scottish media obsessed with her, she didn’t see how she had much of a choice in formal wear. She wasn’t about to go shopping, and there certainly wasn’t a stray ball gown hidden away in her carry-on.

Jenny showed up at the Fraser Country Residence on the morning of the ball with pin pricked fingers and dark circles under her eyes, but a solution, in the form of a new dress, in hand. She managed to run up the steps to Brianna’s room without being spotted. She knocked on her door, which opened slightly. She waited for a “Come in!” before opening the door fully. 

Brianna sat in front of a vanity, twisting the stray curls around her face. She placed a hairpin before turning in her chair to face her visitor. “Hi!” she said with energy that lit up her fully made up face. 

“Ye look bonny!” Jenny said, trying to match her energy. 

“Thank you! So do you!” She remarked, taking in her Aunt’s appearance: she looked regal. “Marsali and Joan did my make up. You don’t think it’s too much?” She felt similarly about makeup as she did dresses. Her face felt heavy, and not like her own, with all of the creams and powders.

“‘Course not! It’s a special day.” 

“Okay, good, because I let them do a lot. But I drew the line at false eyelashes.” 

“Och! I could never wear those wretched things!” 

“They started talking about putting glue on my eyelids… and I was done,” Brianna laughed with her aunt for a moment, before turning back to pin up her last loose curl.

“How’s yer Ma?” Jenny asked as she lay the garment bag on Brianna’s bed then moved to stand behind her chair. 

“She’s doing well!” Brianna locked eyes with Jenny in the mirror. “She has been stable for long enough now, and the last scan looked much better, so they don’t think they’ll have to do surgery. She has another CT scan scheduled for tomorrow, just to be sure.”

“That’s wonderful, a leannan,” she said, running her hands along her shoulders. “Yer father said the same, but I just wanted tae be sure. I’m verra sorry she canna make it this evening.”

“Me too,” she sighed. “But she has begged me relentlessly to try to have fun.”

“Aye, she’s stubborn – that’s why she fits in wi’ Frasers so well.” 

“I guess so! It took her much longer to get Da to agree to come tonight. He doesn’t want to leave her alone in the hospital.” 

“I helped yer Ma convince him. If it’s yer introductory ball, yer gonna need yer father there...”

“Mhm,” she agreed, though she worried about him. He had been extremely stressed the past few days. He was spending most of his time at the hospital, understandably, but that led to a lot of issues with his work.

He wouldn’t admit it to her, but she knew that watching over Claire, dealing with the demands of his cabinet, trying to figure out a way to foster Fergus, and assisting with the case against his uncles was really beginning to get to him. Everytime she asked what she could do, he would tell her that her presence was enough. She appreciated his kind words, but they left her feeling plain useless.

While the stress was getting to her Da, desperation for belonging and approval was definitely getting to Brianna. Reading The First Minister’s official statement regarding her definitely helped. Roger had read it out loud to her one night she was feeling particularly down on herself. She wanted nothing more than to live up to those words he had said about her.

“Do ye want tae see yer dress?” Jenny asked, reaching out to Brianna despite her obviously being lost in thought. 

Brianna made a wry face at the thought of seeing the hideous thing again. Jenny ignored her. Instead, she pulled on her hand to get her to stand and pushed her toward the bed, where she left the bag. 

“Go on, open it,” Jenny beamed, while her niece looked at her with a confused expression.

Slowly, Brianna unzipped the bag and caught sight of the new fabric. “This isn’t…” she started before pulling the hanger out to get a full view of the dress. “This is a completely different dress…” 

Brianna’s mouth fell open, in awe. “It’s beautiful… how? When did you find this?” 

“I didn’t find it. I made it.” 

“You made this? For me?” She held the dress out, extending her arm far enough from her body so that she could appreciate all of the satin and tulle. It was her favorite shade of blue to wear: the one she knew contrasted perfectly with her hair and stood toe-to-toe with her cerulean eyes.

“I did. I couldna have you wearing that God awful mess of a dress. Ye hated it! I used the tool for th’ sleeves, see?”

“I… love it.” 

“I can tell! Look at yer face!”  Brianna brought her left hand up to touch the corner of her mouth where her smile was producing dimples in her cheeks.

“Now, put it on!” Jenny commanded. “I want tae be sure it fits properly.” 

“Thank you so much,” she put the dress down gently on the bed, so that she could pull her aunt into a hug. It wasn’t the first time they hugged, but it was the first time she initiated one. Jenny’s face broke out into a smile as big as the one Brianna was wearing.

After pulling away, Jenny turned around to give her niece some privacy to slip out of her robe and into her creation. Bree stayed silent all the while, stepping into the dress and pulling it up to rest on her shoulders, until she asked for help with the zipper.

“Oh my, Brianna, a leannan, ye’re...breathtaking. Ye’re goin’ tae kill yer father.” 

Brianna blushed at the thought of having such an effect. “And what about Roger?” She twirled while asking, “Do you think he’ll like it?” 

“Ye might kill him as well.” 

“Well, hopefully not before they dance with me.”

“Ah. Aye, yer Ma told me it is verra important that ye get yer dance wi’ yer Da,” she nodded, as if she understood. “Are ye excited?”

“Very much,” she said, but couldn’t help thinking about Frank in that moment. Would you be excited for me? she thought. I wish you were here. I’d dance with you too. 

“Then I think we’re about ready. Ye and Roger will be riding wi’ me and Ian. I’ve been tae the Barnbougle Castle quite a few times.”

“You don’t mind?” She was especially excited by the opportunity to avoid riding with Laoghaire. 

“Of course not! My Jamie jumped at th’ chance tae drive th’ rest of my wee heathens himself and yer Da told me he will meet us there. He’s coming straight from the hospital.” 

“Right. That’s why Murtagh brought him his suit earlier,” she pointed into the air. “Let me text Roger to let him know I’m ready. He should be back from the city by now....” 

“The city?” Jenny asked as Brianna plucked her phone from the charger. She sent a quick text to Roger, and then one to Jamie before answering Jenny’s question,“He had to buy a suit!”

“Och… Aye. Oh, by the way... Ian is downstairs… he’s sae excited to meet ye… I hope ye’re ready tae meet th’ rest of yer crazy family… yer cousins are quite th’ bunch… and yer Aunt Jocasta – dinna get me started on that one.”

“If the rest of the family is anything like you and Murtagh, I think I’ll be just fine.” 

Jenny smiled, and took a step closer to Brianna. 

“It’s the media I’m worried about,” Brianna added, cautiously.

“Just remember,” Jenny said, gripping her shoulders as she did the first time she met her. “That you are loved, Brianna, and nothing any o’ them can write will change that. Just be yourself.” 

But that was the problem, Brianna thought, I’ve barely figured that out. She had come to Scotland in search of those missing pieces. 

“She’s red carpet ready,” Marsali appeared at the door, looking upon Bree with pride.

“Red carpet?” Brianna reiterated in question.

“Oh of course! I wanted it to feel verra American, verra Hollywood,” she winked. 

But not very me , Brianna thought.

“I came tae fetch ye because Roger just pulled up… and he’s looking verra handsome in his suit,” Marsali winked again. 

Brianna barely had time to blush before Marsali reached for her. “Wait! I need my bag!” she pulled back and grabbed the old brown purse she had borrowed from her mother. She stuffed her phone inside, and made sure she had the essentials: chapstick, tissues, and pain killers. “Dresses should have pockets,” Brianna said, frustrated.

“I’ll keep that in mind fer th’ next one I make ye,” Jenny joked. 

Marsali asked if she was ready and allowed her to nod before she was being pulled through the door, down the hallways towards the stairs. “Ye have tae have a grand entrance at th’ party, might as well practice.” 

Jenny and Marsali moved ahead of Brianna then to join the group composed of Ian, Roger, Murtagh, Joanie, Laoghaire, and Geneva, which had accumulated in the foyer. 

Marsali cleared her throat to command attention as they made it halfway down the staircase. They all turned to watch the women descend the steps, but the group was only rendered speechless by the time Brianna appeared at the top. Both Jenny and Marsali looked specifically to Roger for his reaction and were quite pleased with what they found.

She made her way slowly down, careful not to trip over her dress. She wasn’t completely comfortable in the heels she was being forced to wear. Geneva and Laoghaire were disappointed that she chose the shorter of the two options, but Brianna assured them it was only because she didn’t want to appear too much taller than Roger.

“What have you done to your gown?!” Geneva broke the awed silence. She was wearing a tight, black dress with a sweetheart neckline. If it was only a bit tighter she might have kept her mouth shut, Jenny thought.

“Um…” Brianna stopped on a step as she looked for an explanation.

“I made her a new dress.” Jenny stepped in to save her. “Ocean blue tae match her bonny eyes. It’s lovely dinna ye think?” 

Most eyes in the room went to Geneva, waiting for her response, but Roger’s stayed planted on Brianna. His gaze was strong enough to command her attention.

“Ye look… incredible,” he whispered as he reached for her. As he helped her down the final steps, the others were lost to them. His touch grazing her knuckles, and then the small of her back were all that either of them could focus on.

Murtagh and Ian were standing outside of the circle, avoiding the drama being stirred between Geneva and Jenny. Neither looked surprised.

“Don’t you two look dashing!” Brianna said after guiding Roger closer toward the two. It honestly surprised her how well Murtagh was able to clean up. 

Knowing she could count on Murtagh to not only keep her safe, but also to help her navigate the unknown Fraser waters, she imagined she would try her best to stay close to him most of the evening. 

“You must be Ian,” she said, turning to the man she had seen photos of, but had never met.

“I am, yer Uncle Ian ,” Ian smiled while correcting her. “Yer father and auntie have not done ye justice, lass. Look at ye!” 

Murtagh nodded silently. 

“It’s a wonder what makeup can do!” She laughed and gripped Roger’s hand tight in her own.

“And modest too? I think a few in this room could learn a thing or two from ye,” Ian said, with a glance toward where his wife, Geneva, and Laoghaire were going at it. 

“The dress ye chose wasna right fer Brianna… so I fixed it, that’s the end of it,” they overheard Jenny say. 

“Ye couldha at least let her return the dress, Janet," Laoghaire argued, with her arms crossed. “It was expensive!” 

“I put it tae good use,” Jenny promised.

Geneva rolled her eyes like a child who wasn’t getting their way and disappeared through the hallway. Laoghaire turned quickly to follow. 

Brianna hoped this would be the most she would have to interact with either woman that evening, but something deep inside told her to keep those expectations low. When Laoghaire was gone from sight, she then turned to Joanie and Marsali who were left behind by their mother. They stood awkwardly in the corner, clearly not knowing what to do. 

“Shall we start heading out?” Roger asked the group.

Instead of answering, Brianna dropped Roger’s hand and went over to the girls.

“I just want to thank you again for helping me get ready,” she said, smiling. “I feel beautiful and I’m so excited to party with the two of you.”

“Thank ye for giving us a reason to party!” Marsali said before Brianna enveloped the two of them in a hug.

“No matter what happens… I just want you both to know that I am grateful.” Brianna knew she was laying it on thick now, but she couldn’t help it. She was worried about how things were going to unfold, and she was still feeling guilty for her part in it all. This party would cement her presence in their lives. And soon, everything that was normal for them now would be different.  She pulled away from them and knew that the smile she shared now was a sad one.

“Let’s get goin’... it’s a bit of a ride tae th' castle, ” Jenny said, stepping up from behind Brianna. “We’ll see ye two later!” Jenny bopped each of her nieces on the nose with her pointer finger. “Go bother yer Ma about leaving soon.”

Marsali and Joan quickly looked at each other before running off in the same direction as Geneva and Laoghaire. Jenny put her arm around Brianna and guided her back to where she had been standing with Roger, who was now wearing a coat and holding out hers. Once she was close to Roger, Jenny broke off to meet Ian.

“I’m nervous,” she said as she turned her back to put her arms into the peacoat. 

“Well, at least Her Majesty the Queen won’t be at this party.” 

“Does she... usually attend events for the First Minister?” she asked, afraid to come off as ignorant, but stunned by the idea.

“Aye...some.” 

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ.”

Roger’s eyebrows flew up, nearly to his hairline, “I’ve never heard that one before.” 

“It felt right,” she said, and then walked over to the coat closet.  “One last thing,” she said as she pulled out the Fraser tartan Jamie had gifted her and threw it around her neck. “Well, alright. Je suis prêt."

Chapter Text

Aside from those who were working the party (media included,) Brianna’s car was the first to arrive. A contact from the castle, named Gale, who was helping to coordinate the event met the car outside and ushered the group into the venue through the back to avoid any fuss and up the stairs where refreshments were made available. They had a few hours before the party would be in full-swing, which meant extra time for Bree to collect herself, and stress out. Each couple made their way towards the bathrooms upon landing. Stepping into a stall, Brianna noticed the floor was sparkling. Clean enough to kneel before the toilet and hurl her anxieties away. She might have actually done it too, had her aunt not been stalls away, speaking to her. 

Back at the Fraser Country Estate, Laoghaire was losing her grip. She hadn’t seen Jamie in days, losing him to the sassenach wench’s bedside. “He feels guilty,” Geneva provided an explanation. “His uncles are at fault, after all.” But Laoghaire knew that wasn’t all it was. He had texted her so. Again, he said: I’m very sorry. I love Claire and that is never going to change. And then, as if he wasn’t clear: I can’t marry you. She would never be able to adequately describe how she felt reading those words. The searing feeling that ripped through her gut like a knife on fire. She knew he had tried to call her, but she refused to answer. She was still feeling guilty about what she hadn’t said before Claire’s accident. But she felt guilt no more, only pure anger. I can’t marry you. He had tried to tell her before, and she wouldn’t accept it, but now, she knew there was no going back for him. Even if Claire had left him like before, he would not be marrying her. She might not be loved by him, but she knew him well enough.

Despite his unsurprising decision, she hadn’t removed the engagement ring which she was now twisting absently. In fact, Laoghaire hadn’t responded and hadn’t mentioned the texts to anyone, especially Geneva. Because of this, her best friend was still hell-bent on sabotaging Brianna’s evening. Still thinking it would be enough to push Brianna and Claire out of the picture.  Laoghaire was more skeptical than ever that it would work, but she didn’t mind the thought of hurting Jamie the way he was hurting her. And here she still was, trying to pretend to be a happy, supportive, step-mother. 

“Can you believe that… that bitch?” Laoghaire asked, seething. She of course, was referring to Jenny Fraser Murray, who had just moments ago been acting as if ripping an expensive gift to shreds was not a severe offense.

“Which one?” Geneva asked.

Laoghaire didn’t respond at first, then thought of Brianna’s smug face as she descended the stairs in Jenny’s creation. 

“Ugh!” Laoghaire groaned. 

“It’s okay…  they won this battle… and despite how much I was looking forward to her sporting that hideous gown… We will win the war, darling.” 

“Hope so, I canna stand to lose anything else,” she admitted quietly before her girls bounded into the room.

“Ma!” Marsali called to her. “Brianna just left with Auntie Jenny!!” 

“We dinna want tae miss a thing!” Joanie added. “Can we go?!”

Laoghaire and Geneva looked at each other. “Are you ready?” their eyes spoke to each other. Not a conscience between the two of them, they nodded in answer. 

Geneva hired a limousine to drive them to the castle. She wouldn’t be caught dead driving herself to such a high profile event. The girls were excited to be driving in such a fancy car and endlessly thanked their Auntie G for the opportunity. 

When they arrived at the castle, Laoghaire and Geneva identified themselves to the castle’s coordinator, Gale, and were escorted through the back and up the stairs.

They were placed in a large sitting area occupied by large couches and small drink tables with walls of books. Gale informed them that the door in the far corner of the room led to a dining area with refreshments and the loos were in the hallway.

Marsali and Joan were instantly running toward the door to explore. They were pleasantly surprised to find Brianna and the rest of the group that had left the estate just before them.

The door opening didn’t immediately garner attention, but the girls’ excited squeals at the sight of the group, as well as the colorful spread of foods on the table did. 

“Hello there!” Brianna said excitedly, pulling away from her conversation with Roger. 

They had been discussing what song she should choose for her father-daughter dance as Gale mentioned that the band would need a decent heads up. They were emailed a list of songs they knew well. When Marsali asked what they were up to, Brianna wasn’t shy about sharing that she was having trouble deciding. 

“Well, ye havana kent yer Da long enough to have a song… so mebbe choose one from a movie ye like?” she suggested. 

“I think ye should go fer an American classic!” Roger added.

Then Laoghaire and Geneva entered the room. Brianna hoped she wasn’t alone in feeling that the air had been sucked right out. Jenny and Ian nodded to them before quickly turning back to each other and their drams of whisky. 

They had proposed a toast a few moments before, to Brianna, who was glad they did so before the mood shifted so obviously.

When no one spoke, Joanie took it upon herself to break the silence. “Bree is picking out a song for her dance with Da!”  she explained to her mother and aunt.

“I’m gonna go with The Way You Look Tonight,” she said, confidently. It was the first song that stood out to her. Her mother had this song on a vinyl by Tony Bennet and she now imagined it held some meaning to her parents and that Jamie loved it too.

“That’s perfect! That song is in one of my favorite Julia Roberts movies!” Marsali approved excitedly.

“ And it’s an American classic, to be sure,” Roger added.

“It’s settled then!” Brianna said. “Was there anything else Gale needed from me?” she asked no one in particular. 

Roger shrugged and said he would bring the song selection to the band as instructed. Brianna couldn’t help but think he just wanted out of this awkward situation and had to physically stop herself from following him. There’s no way she would escape attention in the same way he would. She was envious of his freedom and disappointed that despite their early arrival, she wouldn’t be able to explore the grounds of the castle. Gale mentioned there were stables, which she was especially eager to check out. Brianna absolutely loved animals. Her mother made sure of it. From a young age, she was enrolled in horse riding lessons and encouraged to volunteer at local animal shelters. At one point, she was so fascinated by goats that her mother booked an entire petting zoo for her birthday. 

Once Roger left, Brianna felt shaky, so she turned to Murtagh who was peeling an apple with a knife that was definitely not from the table. “So… are you going to dance with me?” she asked. 

“Canna have yer father be the only man to embarrass himself in yer presence, now, can we?” 

She laughed, but somehow knew he was strong and steady enough to hold his own on the dance floor. 

Roger returned not long after he left with Gale in tow, who let the group know that guests were now arriving. 

“Great!” Brianna sighed, sarcastically. 

“Why are ye nervous, Brianna?” Marsali asked. “Ye look gorgeous and we’re all here for ye,” she promised.

While Brianna knew this to be true, she couldn’t shake her gut feeling – but for the faces that surrounded her expectantly she would try her best. 

She hadn’t checked her phone since arriving, but did now to see if her father texted, she was surprised to see a voice message instead from over an hour earlier. Siri wasn’t able to translate the message to audio very well (thanks to his thick accent,) so she held her phone to her ear to listen to her father’s voice.

“Bree! Hello! I’m on my way, a leannan. I canna wait to see ye. Yer Mam has asked – no –  instructed me tae tell ye tae send her photos throughout the evening. Okay, love ye… bye.” 

Love you, too. She nearly said out loud, but let her smile grow in response instead. 

The group was still staring at her, many of the worried faces softened at the sight of her smile. “Let’s go,” she said, hooking her arm through Roger’s. They made their way through the hallways together, as a group. Jenny and Ian led. Murtagh was just in front of them. Laoghaire, Geneva, Marsali and Joanie were in-between.

Roger and Brianna would be the last people to descend the winding red carpeted steps, to enter the ballroom. At the base of the stairs, the rolled out carpet continued to where a small step-and-repeat featuring the Castle’s branding was set up for a few of the digital and live reporters to interview the family as they passed by. Brianna couldn’t hear the questions being asked of those in front of her, but she assumed they were invasive. She had received some slight media training from her father’s team, but not enough that she felt ready to handle this on her own. Luckily, she wasn’t on her own. Roger squeezed her hand to remind her of that.

When Brianna reached the top of the staircase, she searched the crowded room for a head that matched her own. Unfortunately, there were many redheaded men in attendance. But only one who was surrounded. Only one who despite being a room away, locked eyes with her. He looked as if you could push him over with a feather. She made it down the stairs, and closer to him and he still hadn’t fallen over, though his jaw did drop a little. She wasn’t able to enjoy his reaction before she was bombarded by people whom she had never met before calling her name. 

Each would ask a question, and then shove their microphones toward her face, not waiting for her to think, or for any other journalist to get a chance.

“Who are you wearing?” 

“My Aunt Jenny made this dress for me!” she said, beaming with pride.

“Who is this on yer arm?”

“This is my boyfriend, Roger,” she said. This time it was Roger who beamed with pride.

“Are you planning to move to Scotland?”

“Possibly,” she said, with a knowing grin.

And then, “Where is your mother this evening?”
She fell silent. She was instructed to say ‘No comment,’ but those words felt so cold and wrong to her now. Instead, she said, “She wishes she could be here, hopefully the next one!” 

And then they were bombarding her with similar questions, digging for more gossip about her mother and trying to unlock the mysteries behind her scandalous arrival. She had opened a door she wasn’t meant to. She grimaced as Murtagh doubled back and pulled her by her free arm. By extension, he also pulled Roger along. Thanks to Murtagh’s intervention, they successfully avoided the rest of the line of reporters and met The First Minister at the entrance to the ballroom.

“Everythin’ okay?” he asked looking from Bree to Roger. Marsali and Joanie stood just behind him talking amongst themselves and ogling the decorations brought to life from their imaginations.

“It is now,” she said. 

“I dinna ken how but ye look even more beautiful than usual, a leannan,” he said, bringing his hand up to trace the jawline he gave her.

Letting go of Roger, she moved to hug her father.

Jenny and Ian were off and mingling, no doubt enjoying their time alone before their “wee heathens” arrived.

She expected her father would have to do his own mingling, so she looked for Murtagh. She had already decided he would be her anchor tonight. While she trusted Roger, Murtagh knew this environment better.

The ballroom was sparkling. Brianna had truly never seen anything like it. The chandelier dangling from the center of the room appeared to be larger than a clydesdale horse. The event was somehow smaller than she imagined though, which helped her to breathe easier. 

“Are ye ready tae meet a few people, Bree?” Her father asked her.

“Yes,” she shook her head in the affirmative. 

He guided her towards a pale woman who looked old enough to be her grandmother and a tall black man who stood protectively next to her. The man whispered to her as they approached her.
“Aunt Jocasta,” Jamie said announcing their presence. “I am wi’ Brianna, my daughter, ken? Bree, this is yer Great Aunt Jocasta and her aid, Ulysses.” 

“Oh, my dear, let me see,” she said, though her eyes were not focused on her. Jamie guided her hands to Briannas arms. She could now deduce that her lack of focus was due to blindness. She froze uncomfortably for a second, as her Great Aunt reached to cradle her face. 

“Be careful, Auntie, her face has been painted for the occasion,” Jamie said, protectively as Jocata’s fingers gingerly brushed her features.

“She’s bonnie, aye?” Jocasta asked, and all four men concurred which caused Brianna to blush furiously. “And tall!” she added. “Are her eyes blue like yers?”she asked Jamie. 

“Aye,” he smiled.

“And her hair?” she continued inquiring.

“You could just ask me, you know,” Brianna said curtly, asserting her presence.

Jocasta laughed. “Aye, ye’re right.” 

“And your hair? Do ye take after yer mother or yer father?”

“My hair is as curly as my mother’s, but as red as my father’s.” 

“Lovely,” she said, smiling, just lovely. She hummed. Brianna wondered briefly what it would be like to have to experience the visuals of the world through her other senses. “I wasnae always blind, ye ken? So I can picture ye in my mind. I’m picturing  my sister, Ellen.” 

Murtagh spoke up then, “Ye’re picturing her just right.” 

“Oh Murtagh!” she said, and reached out towards the direction from which she heard his voice. Typically coming off as aloof, it was odd to watch Murtagh embrace people. Especially a woman.

“I have a few other people to introduce Bree to,” Jamie cut through the tension as they pulled away from eachother. “But I am sure we will be seeing each other more this evening.”

Over by the bar, Laoghaire and Geneva sipped dry champagne, as if they had anything to celebrate. “Do ye see how Jocasta was wi’ her? Sae warm and gentle. She might as well have spat in my face the first time we met.” She watched as they moved on to Detective John Grey, who bowed to Brianna as they were introduced. “Why is everyone sae ready to kiss th’ ground that American brat walks on?”

“It won’t last, love. People like shiny things. She won’t be shiny by the time we’re finished with her.” Geneva moved her wrist to clink Laoghaire’s glass and then turned to find another friend. 

By the time Geneva arrived at her destination across the room, at the side of Stephen Bonnet, a young Irish politician, Bree was being introduced to the just arrived Murray clan. 

Brianna was surprised (and impressed) that Jenny could get through the lineup of her children with just a single breath. There was Young Jamie, Maggie, Kitty, Michael, Janet and Wee Ian. 

Each of them smiled warmly, but it was Wee Ian sat comfortably on Maggie’s hip and was obviously the most excited to meet Brianna. Nearly two years old, he babbled a few words excitedly, including her name which sounded more like “banana” than anything else.

Brianna was shaking his tiny hand with just her pointer finger and a thumb when Ainsley, Jamie’s assistant, popped out of nowhere to pull the First Minister away for some official duties.

Her cousins, which she had never had before, but now had six of, instantly had questions for her, and were not shy. They asked primarily about America. They were fascinated by American high school because of TV.  She hated to burst their bubble, so she didn’t. “It’s similar… maybe less dramatic?” She said cautiously. Satisfied, they then began asking about her mom. Maggie, who admitted to being interested in medicine, asked what it was like having a Doctor for a parent.

“I remember her having to be gone a lot,” she said, but instantly wished she hadn’t said that. She didn’t want to make her mother look bad. “She was busy saving lives, a lot… I mean. But she always made time for me. She’s like a superhero. You’ll have to talk to her about the medical field soon, Maggie!” 

Soon, wee Ian became antsy, demanding more attention than he was being given, so the Murrays moved toward the dance floor to dance him around and “get him tired.” They invited Bree and Roger to join them, but they saw Geneva approaching them and thought it would be rude to run in the other direction, despite wanting to. 

Geneva appeared with a man by her side, whom she introduced as Stephen Bonnet. “Stephen, this is Brianna and her friend Richard,” with a smirk. 

“Roger,” Brianna corrected, pointing to her friend. 

“Mr. Bonnet is very interested in getting to know you, Brianna. He is very rich, very powerful and I know your father absolutely adores him,” she whispered to only her and then quickly disappeared. 

Brianna stuck out a hand for a shake, but Bonnet lifted the hand to his lips instead. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. You are a vision this evening, love. May I call you Brianna?” 

Brianna nodded, preferring it to “love.” 

“Brianna, may I have this dance?” Bonnet asked, channeling every ounce of charisma in his body.

Brianna turned to Roger who nodded, as if he didn’t have a problem with it. She was conflicted, annoyed about his lack of reaction, but understood he wasn’t really one to stake claim, or treat her like she belonged to him. Which she appreciated immensely. Men could be ridiculously territorial , she thought. But then she imagined watching Roger dance with someone else before he ever danced with her and it upset her in a very unexpected way. 

As Stephen Bonnet led Brianna to the dance floor, Laoghaire approached Marsali. “Why dinna ye go gi’ Roger some company? Brianna has abandoned him! He looks like a lost puppy.” 

“Aye, poor man. I’ll go cheer him up.” 

“Hello!” Marsali said, approaching Roger from behind where he was standing watching Bree dance with another man. “What are ye doin’ standing on the outskirts of th’ dance floor?” 

“Someone whisked away my partner,” he said, gesturing towards the center of the room.

“Aye, I can see that! Sounds like ye need to do a grand gesture to get her back.” 

“Aye? Weel, if ye can keep a secret… I am planning one.”

“Would ye like tae dance while ye tell me about it?”

He grabbed her hand then and pulled her to the floor, far from where Brianna was so it wouldn’t be possible for her to overhear. 

What Roger didn’t know was that no matter how close he was to Brianna, she couldn’t possibly hear anything over the sound of Stephen Bonnet’s ego. It was true, she was even having trouble keeping in time with the music. He started out kind, maybe, if you didn’t count the unnecessary lingering wet kiss he placed on her hand upon meeting her

But then he started trying to make conversation and it became very clear that he was what would be called a ‘Republican’ back in America which was a very big turn off for Brianna who was as left-leaning as they come.

“So, what do you like most about Scotland so far?” he asked.

Brianna didn’t answer, she was preoccupied looking over Bonnet’s shoulder at every turn for a savior.  She figured anyone who knew her, and locked eyes with her, would just instinctively know she was in need. Murtagh was turned away from her, speaking to Jocasta. Roger had disappeared from where she had left him. Her father was far away handling important business.

“You know, I’ve been coming to this country on business for years and can’t seem to think of anything to like either,” he continued, trying to make up for her lack of response. She hadn’t really been listening, but she just knew that she disagreed. Despite that feeling, she nodded, politely. “Until I met you,” he said then, looking at her as if she was something to eat. 

Just get through this song , she thought.

But then, the man who had been holding her too tight in her arms slid his hand from the small of her back to fondle her ass. There was no way he was misreading her stiffness for interest. No, he was just a shitty man trying to cop a feel of the First Minister’s daughter before the song ended. I’m no damsel in distress, was her last thought before she brought her knee up to his groin despite the tight silk. 

“You bitch!” He grunted and folded over in pain, but once he noticed others were staring, he was quiet. “Good riddance,” he spat as she sprinted away from him. Then she was running even faster to avoid the media, pulling up her dress past her ankles so it was a bit easier to do so.

The nearest door led to a hallway she had never seen before. All she wanted was a bit of air. She asked a security guard to point her to the nearest terrace and thanked them when they did.

She approached the door, which was slightly ajar. Through the translucent white curtain, she made out two shadows and could hear familiar voices wafting through – Laoghaire and Geneva. Something in her gut told her to listen in. Suddenly, she shifted into the role of an eavesdropper. 

“He was Marsali’s Da first, after all,” she heard Laoghaire say.

“I think it will work,” she heard Geneva say. Then she was mumbling a bit, the wind carried away some of her words. But her next sentence was very clear, “Once she sees what this life truly is… she’ll be running just like her mother.” 

“Speaking o’ Claire… G, I need to tell you what I did...” 

Brianna was going to wait to hear more, to hear exactly what it was that Laoghaire had done to her mother… but Geneva stopped her from going any further saying, “Not here.” 

Deciding that she wouldn’t wait for them to come up with lies, she pushed on the door, needing to confront them immediately.

Laoghaire turned to the sound of the door slamming against the adjacent wall. “What th’ feck?” She was obviously horrified by her appearance.

“What did you do to my mother?” 

“What? Nothin’ lass, ye must have misheard me.”

“No, I didn’t. Don’t gaslight me. What were you going to say?” 

Laoghaire looked to Geneva. She needed to buy more time. “Follow us, we’ll show you.” 

Confused and disheartened, she followed them. They led her past the security guard who directed her to the terrace and up a flight of stairs. They stopped suddenly in front of  an unknown door. Geneva opened it and motioned for her Brianna to look inside. In the darkness, Bree found nothing. But when she turned to question them, Geneva grabbed her phone from her palm and then pushed her inside. 

“Grab that chair,” Geneva ordered.

“What the feck are we doing?” Laoghaire was panicking, her hands shaking as she lifted the chair. Geneva pulled it from her without much effort and stuck the top of it under the handle to prevent it from opening from the inside.  

“We’ll come back once we figure out what to do,” Geneva said to Laoghaire. Then louder, through the door, she spoke directly to Brianna. “This is just a game, Brianna. Don’t worry, darling. Just count to 10… thousand.” 

Now, Laogahire was looking at Geneva like she was losing her mind. 

She felt like she was going to be sick. Almost exactly how she felt when she decided not to tell Claire about the sabotaged brakes on her car. And now she regretted that, didn’t she? 

“G…” she started. How do I undo this? “And what if someone finds her before then?” she asked, instead.

“We’re upstairs… only the immediate family is allowed up here… and they’re all preoccupied.”

When that didn’t relieve the look on her face, Geneva continued. “Relax, Laoghaire. You can’t go to prison for locking someone in the closet,” she said calmly but Laoghaire wasn’t so sure. 

Brianna was screaming, but knew it would be no use over the music. “Fuck,” she breathed out. She couldn’t believe how right Roger had been in judging Laoghaire’s character. And how wrong her father had been… he was going to marry this woman?! She once thought she was ruining a family, but now she knew that she was saving one from a villain and her sidekick.

She focused on her breath for a moment, trying to calm herself down before screaming again. She counted to ten. She laughed at the irony. She laughed until she heard Roger’s voice booming. “Now, it’s time for a special request. A father-daughter dance for the First Minister and his daughter, my beautiful girlfriend, Brianna. These are verra common in America,” he joked. Then she heard the first notes of “The Way You Look Tonight” on the piano, echoing through the halls.

“I can’t miss my own father daughter dance,” she cried. “Help!” She screamed into the dark, baging on the door. Maybe if she hit hard enough...

Roger was center stage, looking for Brianna. He couldn’t find her, so he missed his singing cue. He wasn’t the only one who couldn’t find her. Jamie was standing in the center of attention, searching the crowd. 

Instead, he found Jenny, who shrugged, then Murtagh, who looked concerned. Both ran off in different directions in search of her. Laoghaire and Geneva followed both of them to feed them inaccurate information in an attempt to misguide them.

“I think I saw her go outside,” Geneva said to Jenny.

“I think she’s in the bathroom,” Laoghaire said to Murtagh.

Murtagh stood in the hallway, slumped over, until a security guard approached him with information. “Th’ girl ye’re looking fer a redhead?” Murtagh nodded. “She’s upstairs, sir,” they said, pointing to a tight staircase in the corner.

Ainsley hopped up on stage and whispered to Roger. “Let’s avoid a big scene, just do the song. We can do another song later once Brianna returns.” 

“Brianna?” he called for her into the microphone. Then the band started again upon Aisnley’s coercion. This time, Roger didn’t miss his cue. This time, he watched Laoghaire push Marsali out onto the dance floor, and into Jamie’s arms. He panicked at first, but then caught a look from Ainsley that said: "Don't make a scene." He hoped Jenny or Murtagh would return with Bree soon enough.

Some day,

When I'm awfully low,

When the world is cold

“Brianna?” Murtagh yelled for her at the top of the stairs. But didn’t waste much energy on that. As soon as he saw the chair hitched under the door handle, he was sure she was there. He ran as fast as his body would allow to free her. “Bree!” he cried in relief. She was holding herself in a ball, her eyes were glassy as she looked up at him. He pulled her to her feet. He had so many questions… but they could wait.“Go!” he said, moving out of her way.

I will feel a glow just thinking of you...

And the way you look tonight.

Oh but you're lovely,

With your smile so warm

When she made it down the stairs, through the crowd, she wasn’t sure what’d she’d find. But she definitely didn’t imagine having to watch Jamie and Marsali share a father-daughter dance to the song she had picked out, being sung by her own boyfriend. 

Photographers were snapping photos of the duo, each flash, an individual strike at her heart. 

She was sure they would capture photos of Laoghaire smiling, too.

And your cheeks so soft,

There is nothing for me

But to love you,

Just the way you look tonight.

Her father spun Marsali around and locked eyes with Brianna just as Roger noticed her standing there.

The music cut awkwardly, instrument by instrument, as Roger abruptly stopped singing. 

Jamie let go of Marsali, and took a hesitant step forward, though the look on Brianna’s face told him not to. There were no words that could describe her appearance, other than pure devastation. 

Brianna wasn’t typically an anxious, or insecure, person but these people had perfectly concocted a situation where she felt like a tiny, insignificant, stupid girl who put too much faith in a fairytale.

She was out of place.

She looked to Marsali. She looked worried, but beautiful. She absolutely belonged here, in Scotland, with Jamie as her Da, and everyone knew it. “He was your Da first,” Bree said, echoing what she had heard Laoghaire say earlier.

“You want this life so bad? You can have it!” she shouted to Laoghaire across the dance floor through the space that was now between Marsali and Jamie. Then she was running, once again. 

“You don’t want to make a big scene,” Geneva stopped her at the doors. “It will only make things worse.” 

Brianna had enough energy to push past her, but she didn’t. “I don’t take advice from people who lock teenagers in closets, thank you,” she spat and then used her energy to slap Geneva across the face, before continuing on.

She almost ran right into her Aunt Jenny. “There ye are! I’ve been looking all over outside fer ye,” she sounded relieved, but Brianna ignored her, and kept running. When she finally made it past the terrace, she kicked off her heels somewhere into the grass. 

Brianna had no idea of where she was going until she realized she could see the stables in the distance. 

“Bree-annah!” She knew it was her father calling for her without having to turn around. 

She kept running until she was out of breath. She paused, watching her father run across the grass towards her in his suit. He looked ridiculous. Behind him, she saw a swarm of cameras.

“Oh no,” she whispered in the dark, then continued on to the stables. 

“Bree! Stop!” He was nearly out of breath himself as she let him catch up with her. She didn’t want to have to face the media alone. Especially without the opportunity to talk to him.

Nearby, a groom of the estate was walking a large deep brown horse. Jamie caught sight of them and thought of a plan that was either the most daft he’d ever imagined or the most brilliant. Either way, he knew he would be in trouble tomorrow. 

He nearly grabbed Brianna’s hand but thought better of it and asked her to follow him. He smiled to himself when she did.

“Is he fed and watered?” Jamie asked the groom.

“Uh, yes,” the groom answered, nervously.

“We’re goin’ tae have tae borrow him,” he wasn’t asking. He mounted the horse, and then pulled Bree up behind him. “Hold on tae me,” he said. 

“I know how to ride a horse,” she said, as she brought her arms around him. Not because he asked, but because she knew she should. 

She didn’t have to look back to know that they left the groom standing there, dumbfounded, watching the First Minister ride off into the woods with a swarm of media asking unanswerable questions.

Chapter Text

Hoofs pounded the ground faster than Brianna’s heart beat as she and her father disappeared far into the woods. As she lost track of where they were amongst the trees, she hoped Jamie had his phone on him. Hers was likely still in Geneva’s custody, or perhaps it was tossed onto the ground somewhere to be stampeded by party guests. Gripping Jamie’s waist tighter, she twisted her body to make sure that no reporter was brave or reckless enough to follow them.

“Do you know where you’re going?” Brianna asked, raising her voice so that Jamie could hear her over the hoofbeats. 

“Nah,” he said, casually.

Brianna was concerned at his admission, but wouldn’t let it show. She was also freezing, wearing a dress with tulle for sleeves, but wouldn’t dare mention that as a reason to stop. “I think we’re good,” she said. “We should stop before we go too deep.” 

“I’ll stop, if ye promise ye’ll talk tae me,” he said sternly. “No more runnin’ off.” 

She finally lessened her grip, then said, “Where am I gonna go? I have no phone and no idea where I am.” 

“Good,” he said, then leaned back and pulled tight on the rains with a commanding “Stad” directed to the horse. Their new friend slowed as Jamie continued whispering to him in Gaelic.

Brianna was the first to hop off, despite not having access to the stirrups. 

“I couldha helped ye down, lass,” Jamie said, as he brought one leg over the horse to meet his other before jumping down himself. Brianna had never seen anyone dismount a horse in that way. Well, anyone besides herself. She shook away the smile that thought gave her. She needed to remember why she was running – why they were now in the woods, tying a poor kidnapped horse up to a tree for safekeeping. “We don’t even know your name,” Brianna thought out loud, patting the animal between his shoulder and mane. 

“Bree…” he started, but stopped on his own, wanting to give her control of the conversation. 

“I know what it looks like… it looks like I’m upset because you were dancing with Marsali, and maybe I am a little…” she admitted, though it tore at her to do so. “But that’s not why I was running. I was running because your fiancee and her best friend…” 

“Bree, Laoghaire is no’ my fiancee anymore,” he cut her off, sounding almost angry at her wording. Which made her feel warm for the first time since stepping outside of the castle. It didn’t feel fair for him to be angry.

“But you were going to marry her! She’s still wearing the ring you gave her! How could you even think of marrying someone so... terrible?” She paced away from him, and even in the darkness, he could make out the tears running down her face. “She was trying to hurt me and… and my mom!” 

The way she said “my” held a weight it hadn’t ever before as if she wanted to keep her safe, even from her father.

“What?” he asked before registering what she had said, then he dropped his hands to his sides and looked up at her with a strong brow.  “What did she do?” His accent nearly faded away as his anger took over. 

“Maybe Laoghaire did all of this,” she made a wide gesture in the air, “to make sure her daughters don’t lose you. When I found out that you were engaged, that you were going to have a family… I wanted to go - I almost left before ever meeting you… but freaking Roger convinced me otherwise. But maybe he was wrong. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I should just go back to Boston… it would be easier for everyone…” 

She hated how shaky her voice sounded – it made her feel small. She wanted to scream, at least a scream would take up space, but her father swooped in before she worked up the courage.

“Aye, it would be easier fer them... But if you go, I go,” he said without leaving room to question him. “I missed out on the first 18 years of yer life, I willna be missing anymore.” 

She stilled to gulp at his proclamation, then shivered. Whether or not it was due to the cold, he didn’t hesitate before stripping his suit jacket off and pulling it around her shoulders. It wasn’t much, but it was all he had to offer.

“It’s nearly freezing out here,” he said, patting her shoulders to secure his jacket on her. “We should go...” 

“No!” She spoke at a similar volume as she had on the back of the horse. “I want to talk first.”

Wanting to talk was a good sign, he thought. 

“Alright…Brianna,” he was being extra careful not to use any pet names, knowing how negatively Claire reacted when he used them whenever she was mad at him. “Tell me what happened.” 

She recounted the events of the evening in her head, starting with the awful dress Geneva wanted her to wear. At first, Brianna had assumed her lack of fashion sense was failing her, but now she knew that they had wanted to embarrass her from the beginning. 

The dress didn’t seem all that important though, when she thought of being shoved into the back of a closet. For a moment, she wondered if anyone would believe her side of the story.

Is that why they had done it? Were they so sure that they would just…  get away with it? After all, who would believe an 18-year-old girl who has the motive to break up the new family? Who would believe her over the woman who had seemingly gone out of her way to throw her the party in the first place? The media might fall for it, but there was no way her father would… would he? She looked up at him, questioning written all over her face. She was standing on shaky ground. She hadn’t had the time to prove herself to him, so how could she expect him to just throw his trust into her? 

Did she trust him ? Well, certainly enough to ride with him deep into the dark, freezing woods on the back of a kidnapped horse, she thought. 

“Bree…” he whispered gently, looking more worried than before. She had been quiet too long. 

“First… I need to reiterate that I do not want to take you from Marsali and Joan. That’s not what this is.” Despite their mother, she still thought very fondly of the girls who had welcomed her into their lives so easily, with unlimited warmth only family would offer. Not only did they have Jamie in common, but they all shared pain of losing a father too. “I need you to know that I don’t think I should be more important to you just because we share blood. But at the same time…  I do feel… insecure…jealous even… I - I don’t know if that’s the right word...I mean, we’ve only known each other for a little over a week and you’ve all these experiences and memories with them...and when I saw you dancing with Marsali… I… ”

Her voice cracked before drifting off, it was painful and awkward for her to admit this to him, and he knew it well, which prompted him to step in.

“I ken what ye mean,” he admitted, shyly. He pushed the words out, though he had never intended to utter them out loud. “If Frank were still alive… if I had tae watch th’ two of ye…  I believe I would feel similarly.” He shook his head, ashamed of what he was about to admit. “Nah, I do feel similarly. Jealous, insecure,” he took a shallow breath before continuing. “I feel anger, too… all the while, I am most grateful tae ken that ye had someone who loved you sae much. It is verra confusing.”

She nodded, grateful for the depth of his understanding of the duality of her feelings. With his confession surrounding them, he stepped even closer. She could tell he wasn’t finished yet, so she said nothing. 

“I am sorry fer makin’ ye feel that way on yer big night. Marsali was pushed intae my arms and I didna feel right pulling away at risk of embarrassing the lass in front o’ everyone… but now I realize that is just what happened to you… and I am ashamed tae have been the one tae put ye in that position. Can ye forgive me for it?” 

“It wasn’t your fault,” she said plainly, gearing up to explain the full story. She nearly opened her mouth to start, but then her father shifted in a way that told her he wasn’t quite through his own thoughts.

“A leannan… m’ansaachd, ye have tae ken… ye are the most special person in th’ world tae me. It was you who brought my soul back tae my body.” 

She smiled, thinking of her parents as true soulmates. That kind of love was something she had never dared to believe existed in real life, but always secretly held out hope for. 

“And I dinna just mean yer mother,” he said as if she had her thoughts written across her forehead. “ You were a missing piece o’ me… I hadna even kent was lost.” 

A missing piece. It was a metaphor she was familiar with - one she thought of often all those years not knowing him. And now… each of them was a missing piece put back into place.

“You have made me whole,” he said, and then she wasn’t the only one crying. She closed the remaining distance between them, wrapping her arms tight around his waist – tighter than she had while riding on the back of the horse. Though there were only inches of height difference between them, he was able to rest his chin on her head as he held her and swayed gently. 

“This doesn’t count as a dance,” she said in a joking tone which successfully broke the lingering emotional tension. She didn’t want to ruin the moment, which was one she would certainly remember forever, but she still had so much more to tell him. 

Feeling warmer than she had all night, she pulled away. 

“I need to tell you why I freaked out…” 

He nodded, urging her to go on. 

“Just before you danced with Marsali,” she started and he winced in regret. “I overheard Geneva and Laoghaire talking… she said that she did something to Mama,” she slowed her words, “and when I confronted them about it … they tricked me into following them and then locked me in a closet.”

He blinked hard in what appeared to Brianna to be disbelief.

“Murtagh found me,” she added. “He’ll tell you…” she sniffled. “I’m not making this up.” 

“A leannan,” he said, taking a deep breath before stepping closer to her. “O’ course I dinna want tae believe that they could do such a thing... but I do. I believe you.” 

“Okay,” she said, feeling confident. Her voice grew. “What am I going to do? I have no idea what she did to Mama!” 

“Ye’re acting as if what she did tae ye wasnae enough… lockin’ ye in a closet? Lass...” 

Her mouth hung open, words did not come but her brows stitched together in question.

“Ye’re no going tae do anything, I will make sure she is punished properly.”

“But I don’t… I don’t want to ruin their family… I don’t want everyone to hate me.” 

“If she had done somethin’ tae hurt only me, I wouldna bother… but she decided tae hurt you and that… I willna stand for.” He shifted his feet, strengthening his stance. He looked even taller somehow.

When her worried features didn’t soften, he continued, “Dinna fash, Bree. I will see that th’ girls are taken care of always… but please understand that I canna let her, or Geneva, get away wi’ this.” 

“And what about the press? Aren’t you worried about what they will say?” 

“To be sure, we are goin’ tae gi’ them a lot tae talk about,” he said, turning to walk towards the animal they had “borrowed.” He patted the stallion twice, then reached into his pocket. 

“I’ve many missed calls and messages,” he said, scrolling through his phone. She sighed a bit, relieved at the proof that he had in fact carried his phone in his pants pocket this evening. “But I am only going tae return th’ one just now,” he said, moving his large thumb to click Murtagh’s name. 

When Murtagh answered the phone, Jamie expected to hear echoes of chaos, but there was only wind. “Where are ye, lad?” he asked his godson. 

Jamie decided on a meeting location at a pub nearby, which he promised his daughter was not far, according to the map on his phone.

“What are we going to do with him?” Brianna asked, pointing to the chestnut-colored steed.

“That’s fer Murtagh tae figure out. Once we get tae the pub, we’ll take a car. We have somewhere tae be.”

Brianna raised an eyebrow, but before she could question him, he was turning to mount the horse. When he turned back to her, her question was forgotten. His face full of hope and sadness, he reached out his hand to her. She took it and pulled herself up behind him, once more. This time, sitting in his suit jacket, she felt comfortable.

“One last question,” she said quickly, wanting to ask before he squeezed his legs, or clucked to get the horse started.

“Anything,” he said, turning his head to see her in his peripheral vision.

“You don’t, like, adore Stephen Bonnet, do you?”

“Adore?! Where in th’ world would ye get that idea? I canna stand th’ dobber. ”

“Thought so,” she said, leaning her head against his shoulder as they made their way towards the road they could not yet see.

Chapter Text

Murtagh and Roger sat in silence as driver and passenger in a classic yellow car as they awaited the arrival of the First Minister and his daughter on horseback. Roger thought to fill the silence by asking Murtagh about the car, but stopped himself once he realized he could contribute nothing of value to that kind of conversation. 

The silence allowed Roger to revel in his guilt. He knew he should have told Jamie’s assistant to fuck off. He should have made a scene until Brianna arrived safely on the dance floor. He could never forget the look on Bree’s face when she parted the crowd and made her way to the center of the room. She barely spared him a disappointed glance before running off. And while he understood her relationship with her father was of utmost importance to her, he couldn’t help but worry about their own newly established relationship. 

Roger could do nothing but watch, dumbfounded, as Jamie chased after Brianna because when he jumped off the stage and moved to follow, Murtagh caught him by the arms. 

“Let the lass and her Da have a moment alone, lad,” he spoke in an uncharacteristically gentle, but serious command. 

Roger agreed. That was what Bree was here for after all – moments with her Da – but Roger couldn’t help but feel a twist in his gut as he watched Jamie Fraser disappear through the looming castle doors over Murtagh’s shoulder. 

Focusing on the feeling in his gut, Roger realized that he had never felt this way about anyone before. He wanted to be with her, sure, but he also wanted to protect her and make her happy. Sometimes it made him feel weak, but other times – it made him feel like the strongest man alive. He hadn’t known what it could be like. He hadn’t had any examples of romance growing up, save the programs Mrs. Graham forced him to watch as a child. What was happening between him and Brianna was as foreign to him as an unknown language... but suddenly he knew the perfect English word to describe it.

After letting Jamie chase after his daughter alone, Roger didn’t know what to do with himself so he stuck by Murtagh who seemed to have an idea. 

“Th’ bloody maggots are goin’ tae swarm them,” Murtagh groaned, moving towards the exit.

 “Ah, the media,” Roger confirmed after a second thinking to himself, and acknowledging the chaos of moving cameras and bobbing microphones just in front of them. He sped up to follow close behind Murtagh. “Should we… uh… make a scene?” Roger asked as they passed the threshold, remembering the words that Ainsley had used earlier to get him to keep singing. 

“Ye think any scene ye make will be more compelling than the First Minister stealing a horse and riding away intae th’ woods wi’ his daughter dressed like a damned princess?” 

“Umm, what?”

Murtagh stopped short. With one arm, he stopped Roger and with the other, he pointed toward the stables. Roger squinted a bit to see in the dark but he could see her clearly – the red of her curls and the blue tulle of her dress flowing in the air behind them as they galloped into the trees. 

“Let’s go tae th’ car before they realize they willna be able to catch them and settle for us,”

They moved quickly to the dirt carpark but didn’t make it to Murtagh’s car before Jenny found them. 

“What is goin’ on? My niece nearly just knocked me unconscious! And then my brother couldn’t spare a word of explanation before disappearing intae the woods,” She directed her ire to Murtagh, but it didn’t prevent Roger from feeling the energy radiating from the small but incredibly fierce woman. “What in God’s name happened in there?” 

Roger forgot that Jenny had missed the entire spectacle, whilst looking for Brianna herself. She had missed the look of humiliation on her niece’s face. She had missed the way her brother’s strong posture slumped as he realized what he had done. 

“Janet,” Murtagh finally spoke. He reached out to place his hands on her shoulders, like someone who was bracing to tell a loved one bad news. “Someone locked Bree in a closet so that she would miss her father-daughter dance. I found her. She looked sae…” While Murtagh searched for the right word, Roger had no problem thinking of one… “Heartbroken,” he offered.

“Not someone…” Jenny pulled away from Murtagh, her sorrowful look hardening with a twinge of hostility. “It was Laoghaire and Geneva.” 

“Aye,” Murtagh nodded, not as if he was suspecting them himself, but as if he knew. 

“Those wicked feckin’ bitches,” Jenny spat with venom before disappearing completely into her thoughts. Even Roger, who barely knew her, could sense her wheels turning.

“Janet… Dinna do anythin’ wi’out speaking tae Jamie.” 

“Murtagh, he may be the First Minister of Scotland but I am his big sister, ken?” She breathed in deep, as if she could retract the tears that were falling.

“I ken it," Murtagh said softly. "Just… be careful. This is already goin’ tae be awful fer them.”  

“Are ye goin’ tae find them?” 

“That is the plan.” 

“Then ye better go. I see a camera headin’ this way. I’ll try tae distract them wi’ my sisterly charms." She swatted away the lingering tears, pulled her skirt up past her ankles, then ran off. 

Murtagh drove with a reckless abandon along the road that lined the outskirts of the forest that had swallowed his Godson. He drove through the winding darkness until he found himself pulling into the barren carpark of a dimly lit pub. For a Saturday night in Edinburgh, it was quiet. The only sounds were provided by the bugs in the woods and the man sat outside smoking a pipe and speaking to himself.

It remained this way until Murtagh finally spoke to Jamie on the phone and fell silent once again until he heard hoofbeats hastily approaching not twenty minutes later.

“Brianna,” Roger breathed out as he turned in the passenger seat. Murtagh grabbed for the door handle and was outside and approaching the slowing horse as Roger remained still. He watched from the car as Murtagh reached out to help Brianna dismount. While Jamie swung himself off after Brianna like a graceful Knight, Roger fumbled with his seatbelt. 

Thankfully, the door handle was less troubling. He emerged from the vehicle and finally locked eyes with Brianna as he shut the door behind him. Roger felt all of the blood in his body rush to his head, but her expression didn’t budge. Jamie stood close to his daughter, brushing arms, as he nodded to Murtagh in thanks for meeting them. Roger was happy to see that the father-daughter relationship had seemingly been healed a bit by whatever had happened in the woods; however, Brianna still harbored a look of confusion and hurt.

Jamie’s were the first words he heard. “We need tae borrow yer car,” he said to Murtagh, clearly meaning him and Brianna alone. 

“And what? Am I tae ride Seabuscuit here all th’ way home?” 

Brianna let out a giggle that had Roger’s tight chest widening a bit. Roger moved closer to the family and could have sworn he saw Jamie roll his eyes while he tied the horse's reins to a post in the ground. “We can call a car,” Roger suggested, holding up his phone. Murtagh let out an expected groan, not understanding technology in the slightest. 

“Thank ye, Roger,” Jamie said, and Roger wondered if his gratitude was the first overtly kind thing the man had offered him. He also briefly wondered if maybe Jamie would soften towards him now that they had both disappointed Brianna in a similar way. Wishful thinking, to be sure. It was more likely that he would hold this against him.

"And what of th' horse?" Murtagh asked. 

"Call Jenny or someone still at th' castle to let the stable ken that he's here... or ye can ride him back there, ghoistidh."

Roger thought Jamie was joking, but couldn't be sure until Murtagh laughed. "Alright, I'll call yer sister, then."

Looking at Bree now, Roger was back on that stage, gripping the wire of a microphone in his hand, regret coursing through his veins. He wasn’t expected to sing now, but it was clear that this audience was expecting him to speak. “Bree, can we… can we talk?” He asked. Brianna turned to her father, as if to ask permission. Roger didn’t know whether he was relieved or not when he nodded for her to go on. Roger could feel the men staring at them as Brianna led him away. 

“Brianna, I know this isna a good time...” 

“Not a good time? Roger, this is the worst time.”

“But I need tae tell ye…”

“What?” she asked, impatiently. He knew he deserved it. 

“I’m just… I’m sae sorry, Bree…” 

“For what? Singing my song for someone who wasn’t me?”

“I’m sorry… for hurting you," he gulped, but somehow he knew there was more than hope for forgiveness. He saw it in her eyes. 

“I am hurt but I'm not an idiot... I know it’s not really your fault…” She admitted, to his surprise. 

“No, Bree, there is no excuse. I never want tae see ye that way again,” he said, cautiously bringing his hand up to cup her face. He moved so slowly, she had the chance to step closer to him. “And… there’s something else...”  

“What?” she pulled away from him and stood with her arms crossed.

“I... love ye.” 

There it was. It was easier to say than he had once imagined. He had figured it out himself only a short while ago so... no, he didn’t expect her to say it back... hell, he didn’t expect her to say anything at all, but he did see her open her mouth with a response being prepared on her tongue. Before she could let whatever it was out into the world, Jamie was behind her. Brianna felt his presence before Roger had even noticed he was approaching. "Time to go," he said, pulling her backwards gently by the hand to follow him into the car and away from Roger once more.

“Take care of Caitriona!” Murtagh bellowed as they pulled out of the carpark. Jamie waved his hand out the window. Brianna did not look back. 

“Caitriona?” Roger asked, his voice sounded as weak as he felt.

“My car, ye dolt." When Caitriona disappeared around a bend, Murtagh slapped Roger on the shoulder. "Alright, weel, I'm goin' tae get me a whisky while ye call us a car," Murtagh said, then tossed his phone to Roger without warning. "Ye can call Jenny as well, aye? I dinna have answers fer her questions."  Roger stood silently, with a phone in each of his hands as Murtagh climbed the wooden stairs to enter the pub.

Chapter Text

Brianna stood in the doorway with the light from the hall framing her silhouette. Her mother was resting, so the lights in the room were dimmed. She tiptoed in, whispering “Mama” three times before Claire finally opened her eyes. 

“Brianna?” she called out to her daughter. 

“It’s me,” Brianna responded, reaching for the light switch. Claire blinked to adjust to the brightness, then pressed down on a button to change the incline of her bed. 

“Oh, Smudge, look at you! You’re radiant.” She noticed a suit jacket laying in her arms before it hit her that she was here, in the hospital, and not at the castle for her ball. “Wait, what happened? What are you doing here?” 

“Mama…” she started slowly. “I need you to promise me that you won’t physically freak out when I tell you.” 

“Physically? What on earth do you mean? Bree…” 

“Just... please, just try to stay calm. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Moving carefully to an upright position, she spoke through her teeth,  “I would be more calm if you just told me what happened.” 

Brianna explained the full story then, starting with her dress and ending with her getaway. Her mother let her talk without interruption but by the end of her explanation, Claire’s lips were pursed, her jaw was clenched and Brianna caught a tear on her cheek with her pointer finger. Claire thought nothing could hurt her worse than her broken ribs or punctured lung at this point, but she was wrong.

She didn’t speak for a long time, then asked, “Where’s your father?”

“Umm…” Brianna started, laying Jamie’s suit jacket across the rail of the bed before continuing. “He’s around… he brought me here.”

“And he didn’t think I would want to talk to him about this?”

“Uh…” Brianna stalled, looking to the exit.

“I’m here, Sassenach.” Jamie appeared in the open doorway, looking like a lost puppy. “We thought it might be better, mebbe, fer ye tae hear it from Bree alone... and, weel, I also thought ye might be upset wi’ me.” 

“Oh, I’m upset… but not with you,” she clarified. 

“Even if ye dinna blame me fer what happened tonight… Claire, I’m th’ one who let Laoghaire intae my life. I’m the reason she was ever near Brianna in th’ first place.” 

“You’re right…” Claire took a deep breath to amplify her voice. “She hurt my baby , Jamie! How could you…” 

“Mama!”  Brianna tried to interrupt her mother, which was certainly not a common occurrence in her life. “I’m okay,” she tried to assure her. 

“I’ll never understand what you saw in that... woman,” Claire admitted, disgusted. Jamie stood silent, trying to look anywhere but at the disappointment he had caused. 

“I can…” Brianna channeled all of the empathy she had left. “She’s a widow with two daughters who needed a father.” She turned to her own father before continuing, “And you were lonely and feeling lost and you wanted to be a Da. I get it.”

Claire’s demeanor softened and her chin dimpled as she watched the two loves of her life share a moment of truly understanding each other.

“I dinna feel lonely or lost anymore, a leannan,” Jamie said confidently, then placed a kiss on his daughter’s forehead. “And that’s because I get tae be a Da tae you.” 

“Well then,” Claire spoke after a moment and wiped her eyes before continuing. “We will discuss what to do about those… women … tomorrow. But as for right now… I’m not letting them ruin your night. So, will the two of you share a dance here? For me?” 

“Are ye… Are ye sure ye even want me here, Sass – Claire?” 

“Don’t be daft, my lad. I can compartmentalize my anger,” she said, smiling. 

Jamie wanted to joke that she must have learned that with age, but felt it was too soon to push his luck. Instead, he hummed appreciatively. He wasn’t sure he could leave now, even if she had asked him to.

“You want us to dance here?” Bree asked, looking around the dreary room. “To the sound of your machines beeping?” she raised an eyebrow. 

“Well, no…” She scoffed, reaching for her phone. “I can play something off my phone.” 

Claire didn’t wait for an affirmative before scrolling through her playlists.

“Do you have a request?” Claire looked to Bree, but Jamie was the one to answer. 

“Sassenach, can ye play “My Girl” by th' Temptations on yer wee phone?” 

She smiled brightly, then started typing the song title into her phone. 

Upon hearing the first note, Jamie bowed, then held his open palm out to his daughter. “Weel, lass, can I have this dance?” 

I've got sunshine on a cloudy day

When it's cold outside

I've got the month of May

Jamie pulled her close to him, in a hug, and swayed her gently from side to side. 

“I guess you'd say... What can make me feel this way...”

He sang along to some of the words, and though the man was obviously tone deaf, no one would deny that he sang this song from deep within his heart.

My girl, my girl, my girl

Talkin' 'bout my girl

My girl

During the chorus, he spun Brianna around as wide as the hospital room would allow, allowing her tulle skirt to catch air as she twirled. Bringing her back to him, he turned them so that he had a perfect view of Claire’s face over Brianna’s shoulder. Claire didn’t bother wiping her tears now, instead, she let them fall into her smiling mouth. 

Brianna couldn’t help but think that this moment, in spite of everything that had gone wrong earlier that night, was perfect. It was a moment she had truly waited her entire life for.  A moment she spent all of her birthday wishes on.

She hadn’t only wished to meet this man who had fathered her unknowingly, no, she dreamt of being loved by him and of belonging with him.

And now, here she was, dancing with him to a song that he had chosen with her in mind. There were no cameras or reporters to write a story about the kind of father The First Minister was. He was doing this only for her benefit. Only because her mother asked and he had wanted to. 

“ My Girl, My Girl, My Girl,” he sang to her.

She laid her head on her father’s chest for the final verse and felt truly at peace for the first time since taking flight from Boston. 

That peace, unfortunately, wasn’t built to last and was so easily disrupted by a frantic knock at the door. Jamie pulled away from Brianna hesitantly then pulled on the handle to reveal Geillis, Claire’s favorite nurse throughout her stay at the Royal Infirmary of Edinburgh. 

“Och! Ye’re all here! I was just coming by tae tell Claire that the two of ye are all over th’ news!” She quickly moved past Jamie and Brianna to capture Claire’s television remote, hit the on button and tune to the BBC.

Clips of Brianna standing disappointed in the middle of the ballroom, lashing out at Laoghaire, running through the castle, slapping Geneva, and mounting the horse with her father, played out on screen the same way she had told her mother. The lower third read, “First Minister and Daughter Go For Wild Ride.” 

When the BBC changed over to another story, Geillis flipped the channel before anyone could speak. On the next station, a familiar face to everyone but the working nurse was speaking to a reporter.

“This is all happening because Claire Randall is a homewrecker who has traveled thousands of miles to dismantle my best mate’s entire life. It’s truly upsetting to witness,” she sniffled. “Her last husband divorced her, so she thought she could try again with her university crush. Jamie is really too kind for his own good sometimes.” 

“An actress deserving of an Oscar, to be sure,” Geillis said but the rest of the room stayed silent as Geneva continued her act.

“We’re all still waiting on the blood tests to prove that any of it is true,” Geneva answered a question they missed.

“What the fuck? Can she do this?” Claire asked, shocked that this former public relations professional was blatantly lying like this on live television.

“It doesna matter, Sassenach. She is doing it,” Jamie sounded so defeated and though it was her own character Geneva was attacking, Claire longed to cradle him in her arms. Not for the first time that week, she cursed her broken ribs for preventing her from doing so.

“No one will believe it, Claire,” Geillis said, rubbing her left shoulder gently.  

“Why wouldn’t they?” Claire asked her before turning back to the screen.

“Wow… Mrs. Ransom, you are providing us with some incredible insight,” the reporter, who believed they were getting the scoop of their life boasted. “We haven’t heard anything from Mrs. Randall… and she wasn’t at the event tonight… do you know where she is?” 

“That’s Doctor Beauchamp tae ye, ye bampot!” Geillis shouted. “Ye call yerself a journalist? Mrs. Randall,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes. 

Claire held a shushing noise between her lips, not able to bring herself to quiet the woman defending her honor.

“I can’t be sure…” Geneva lied. “We obviously aren’t mates. However, I did hear gossip that she was in an accident due to drink-driving. Maybe she’s still in the hospital…I couldn’t say for sure.” 

At the word hospital, Claire heard Jamie curse the Lord’s name. 

“Christ!” Jamie cried out and kicked the open door into the adjacent wall.

Geillis turned the volume up to hear a new unknown woman, surrounded by a sea of microphones, speak on the topic. Jamie continued cursing under his breath, switching between Gaelic and English.

“Da, look! It’s Aunt Jenny!” Brianna called to her father, who was still muttering ugliness. 

“If it’s drama ye want, och, do I have some fer ye,” the tiny brunette spoke directly into the closest microphone. Jamie looked up to see his sister on screen. She took up less space than Geneva, but she was just as confident as she spoke. 

“We just want the truth, Mrs. Murray," a reporter called out, shoving their mic closer. 

“Alright, then. I’ve kept my mouth shut fer far too long. Here is the truth: Lady Laoghaire MacKenzie is a gold diggin’ trollop who has been using my brother since day one. Her friend Geneva is only worse – that one is an evil wench who has gone out of her way tae cause my good niece, Brianna, pain. I have made it a point to avoid th’ media throughout my brother’s career, but this night has changed things.” 

“So, Mrs. Murray,” a reporter spoke when she paused. “Are ye sayin’ that the seemingly perfect First Family of Scotland is as real as the Loch Ness monster?”

“I am saying that two nasty humans, Laoghaire Mackenzie and Geneva Dunsany Ransom, are not tae be trusted. They deliberately conspired to ruin a night that should have been verra special tae a lass verra close tae my heart... God knows what else they had planned. If ye respect my brother as yer First Minister… ye will hear me." 

Then Jenny was gone from the screen, the news station cutting back to the studio anchors.

“Well, we’ve received two conflicting reports this evening from Barnbougle Castle following the dramatic departure of the First Minister and his daughter on horseback. We’ll be following this story... into the woods.”

As the anchor transitioned to commercials, Jamie turned to Claire’s nurse. “Geillis, I ken th’ Doctor spoke about getting Claire released tomorrow… but I need tae take her home tonight. Can ye make that happen? It’s a serious matter of security now. Ye can tell yer boss the First Minister is...” 

“Let me see what I can do, fox,” Geillis interrupted before he could offer any sort of threat, then glided away towards the nurses station. 

Brianna sat slumped in the chair, only straightening to grab her mother’s hand.

"You know... I've never seen your Aunt defend anyone quite so passionately, save her brother," Claire said as she rubbed her thumb along the palm of her daughter's hand.

Brianna smiled at that.

“Did she just... call me fox ?” Jamie asked, surprised.

“She’s getting comfortable with us," Claire answered.

“Do ye think she’s like this wi’ all of her patients?”

“I’m not sure. I’d like to think I’m special. Who knows? Maybe we’ll be colleagues one day...”

Jamie made an indiscernible noise, not knowing how to feel about the idea of having Geillis in their lives long term, but if she pulled off an early release for Claire… he would be forever in her debt.

“You should have heard her earlier when she was asking me about how you are in bed!” 

“LaLaLA,” Bree shouted, plugging her ears. “I’m happy, like, SUPER happy that you two are together… but it doesn’t mean I want to hear details, okay?”

“I didn’t say anything!” Claire countered, defensively. 

“Let’s keep it that way,” Bree said, smirking. Jamie crossed the room to plant a loud, but overly gentle, kiss on Claire’s lips. Bree brought her hands up to cover her eyes but peaked through when it fell silent. Her father sat on the edge of her mother’s bed, their fingers intertwined as their eyes met. They were stuck in a desert but could see rivers running in each other’s eyes.

For the first time since she left him standing in the parking lot of the pub, she thought of Roger. Would anything with him, or anyone else, ever measure up to this kind of love that she was witnessing?

As quickly as she left, Geillis reappeared to interrupt Bree’s thoughts. Not a soul in the room had time to question her before she was delivering the good news. “Ye are clear tae go home, Claire. I'll be back in a bit tae start the process..."

“Oh, Geillis, I hope tae one day repay ye,” Jamie stood and took two large steps toward the nurse. He grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and quickly planted kisses on both sides of her face.

"I do hope ye are more gentle wi' our lass, fox," she said, wiping either side of her face before turning to leave. Jamie turned back to his child and future wife.

“Let’s go home, my Sassenach," he said softly, "and be wi’ our family.”

Chapter Text

“Lolly...Brooke?” Brianna fumbled the name for her father’s childhood home, but he found he didn’t mind. He also found her american accent to be quite charming. It reminded him of movies he watched as a wee lad rather than the American politicians, reporters, and tourists he frequently spoke with. Brianna’s was a bit strange, probably because she was raised by two sassenachs.

“Lallybroch,” Claire pronounced, proudly, with her best attempt at a scots accent.

“Lallybroch,” Brianna repeated, earning smiles of approval from both of her parents.

“There you go, darling. Much better,” Claire applauded.

“Aye, a leannan. We’ll have ye speakin’ like a scot in no time. Dinna fash.”

Bree smiled, shyly. “I’d like to learn a bit of gaelic, too… if you wouldn’t mind teaching me, Da.”

“Mind it? Och, m’aansachd I’d love nothing more ‘sides mebbe th’ opportunity tae go hunting wi’ ye… or riding with ye properly.”

Jamie was beaming as he guided his family through the highlands where his sister, brother-in-law, nieces, and nephews lived in peace. Far away from his responsibilities as First Minister. While Jamie was anxious to handle the fallout with Laoghaire and Geneva, he wanted nothing more than to enjoy some uninterrupted time with his girls. He was grateful to be able to get Claire out of the hospital before anyone was able to find her and the thought of going to Lallybroch where no one could harm her, or Bree, calmed him quite a bit. For now, he would let himself enjoy the peacefulness. First thing tomorrow, however, he would be on the phone with Detective John Grey, one of the last remaining officials in his circle that he felt he could truly trust.

Bree perched herself on her knees in the back seat, with her face nearly planted against the window to take in the views. If it wasn’t for the freezing air, Jamie would have all of the windows down to properly breathe in the beauty. The content silence of the winding drive was only interrupted by Bree’s questions and Jamie’s anecdotes.

They were passing yet another farm packed with highland cattle when she finally thought of a question for her mother. “Mama,” she started slowly, pulling her face from the window. “When did you know that you loved Da?”

Claire hesitated, not expecting her question to have strayed so far from the topic of landscapes and traditions. Having not spoken about this time in her life so directly in so long, Claire stumbled to find a succinct answer.

“You told me Alexander and Elizabeth fell in love instantly,” Bree continued when her mother was thinking too long. “You said it was like magic… was it... was that all real?”

“‘Twas like magic, to be sure,” Jamie answered, locking eyes with his daughter in the rearview mirror. His eyes crinkled in a smile to match hers.“I was hers from th’ moment I saw her gathering her wee flowers on that faerie hill. She locked eyes wi’ me and I kent that I would never be th’ same.”

Claire felt tears brimming as he confirmed what she had told Brianna in stories. Jamie reached for her hand over the center console. With a squeeze and a quick glance away from the road, he tried to make her feel his gratitude that she had shared pieces of him, of them, with their daughter all of those years they were apart.

Claire remained silent, smiling, as Bree continued questioning her father now. “So, Da, you just knew right away… that she was it for you? That’s…. that’s terrifying!”

“Aye, it was. It is a great thing to give yourself tae someone… tae hope that they will keep yer heart safe and give ye their own in return.”

“And you knew all of this? From Day one?” She reiterated, not quite believing it.

“Weel, I kent she was the bonniest lass I’d ever seen. I kent I felt somethin’ like a magnetic pull tae her. And I kent I wanted tae...weel…” he started and then stopped, blushing too fiercely to finish the thought.

Brianna laughed awkwardly. Not wanting to hear more, she began hypothesizing out loud. “Maybe it was the magic of the stones, bringing you two together…” After all, she had felt the natural power of the place herself.

“While I would never deny the magic of the stones,” her mother finally spoke up. “Unlike your father… unlike Elizabeth… I didn’t know it immediately. It took me a while, actually.”

“Yeah?” Brianna asked. The thought that it hadn’t been so easy for her mother comforted her. She was scared that there might be something wrong with her for not knowing exactly how she felt about Roger when he had uttered those three little words.

“Aye, yer mam… she was verra stubborn. Still is,” Jamie said, earning a light slap on the arm. “Ow,” he groaned while she rolled her eyes at him.

“I fought it.” Claire continued in explanation of what she had just revealed. “I hadn’t grown up with an example of romantic love. Uncle Lamb was an independent man and raised me to be an independent woman. And I suppose I was afraid. I hadn’t loved many people in my life. And when I did, I lost them. So even when I felt it in my heart… my head wouldn’t allow me to think about it, let alone say it.”

Jamie nodded, tightening his hold on her hand for a heartbeat. He had understood her longer than she had understood herself.

“Not to mention, we were so young and he was dating some french model when we met!” Claire added in jest, with a hint of insecurity lurking.

Brianna’s eyes grew wide at the mention of another woman, but she decided to store that information for a later interrogation. “And when… how did you finally know it? When did you tell him how you felt?”

“Well, we started spending quite a bit of time together… as friends. Mostly, we would read together in the library or go for long walks. Then, one night, after an awful day of exams, he invited me to Lallybroch for a weekend and I couldn’t resist the offer of spending more time with him.” Really, it was the idea of a weekend without him that got her to say yes, she thought. “Until the day we left, I would remind him that I was to be introduced strictly as his friend.”

Jamie’s knowing smile grew wide enough for both passengers to see from his side profile.

“Hmmm… meeting the family as “Just A Friend” even though you both clearly wanted to be more than friends,” Brianna mocked her mother. “Had you not watched a single romcom in your life before you had me?”

She rolled her eyes, then thought about it. “Well… no,” she confirmed. “I wasn’t a fan until I had you to cuddle and watch them with.”

Brianna smiled, remembering the times she was successful in prying her mother away from her books or her garden.“So, what happened when you got to Lallybroch?” she pressed on.

“Your Grandfather Brian was able to keep his thoughts to himself, to a degree, but everyone else was making snide remarks or prodding me for information… and well, you know, Jenny is as subtle as a sledgehammer.”

“As ye ken, she has a glass face, yer Mam,” Jamie interjected.

“In spite of that, I kept myself quite busy in the garden most of the weekend... until your father went and got himself hurt.”

“Hurt? How?” Brianna asked, finding herself somehow concerned about a decades old injury.

“It was nothing serious, a leannan.” Jamie said while guiding the vehicle around a tight curve.

“What do you mean? You had a concussion! And dislocated your shoulder!”

“”Twas a wee thump on the’ heid,” he joked. “Nothin’ tae fash over. We were playin’ a game o’ shanty and I got a wee bit distracted…”

“Distracted?” Brianna asked, curious.

“Aye, I was distracted by a verra beautiful lass tending tae my mother’s garden.”

“What?!” Claire nearly yelped at this apparent brand new information. “You never told me that! Are you saying it was all my fault?”

“No, it was my own fault, Sassenach. Ye canna help how beautiful ye are.”

“I suppose not,” she joked as heat spread through her blushing cheeks, down her neck.

Brianna stayed silent, watching and waiting for the story to continue.

Claire breathed out, in an attempt to shake off his comment. “All of a sudden, I heard your uncle Ian shouting. I looked up to find your father on the ground. I was running before I could think. I was completely out of breath when I reached him, but one of his old friends was already there kneeling beside him doing nothing helpful.”

“Aye, yer mother didna like her verra much.”

“I didn’t like that she was moving your shoulder carelessly.” If she was honest, she hated that she was touching him at all. She remembered snapping at the poor girl to step away from him. “I could immediately tell that he was actually hurting but all the while kept saying, Dinna fash, Sassenach. I’m just fine, Sassenach,” she mocked him.

“And ye were tender as milk wi’ me. That was new.”

“I was worried. I had never seen him hurt before… I helped pop his shoulder back into place but then completely lost it when he started showing signs of a concussion. I’ll save you those details, darling. Even still, he kept refusing to go to the hospital until Ian somehow convinced him…”

“Ian said tae me, he said...“Listen tae me lad, do ye want th’ lass tae be upset all night long? If ye truly care fer Claire, ye must go see yourself healed. Fer her sake.” I’m stubborn, but not stubborn enough tae see ye suffer for my pride. So, I told ye I would go.”

It was clear to Brianna that her mother hadn’t known that part of the story either. Somehow, all these years later, Jamie was able to add new layers to the story that made her feel as if her heart might burst with loving him.

“That night, my brain was finally clued into what my heart was feeling all along.”

“All it took was a mild brain injury!” Jamie chided.

“Well, she is a surgeon…” offered Brianna. “Her brain is wired to work best in times of crisis.”

Claire nodded, with pride. “I whispered “I love you,” to him for the first time in the hospital while he was sleeping. I don’t know if I ever told you that,” she said, turning to her fiance, hoping to surprise him for a change.

“Ye didna have to. I heard ye, Sassenach.”

“What?!” Claire sounded a bit defeated. “And you didn’t say anything?!”

“Why would I? I wanted ye tae be ready tae say it tae me while I was conscious... and ye were ready soon enough. When we left Lallybroch a few days later… she was driving and she reached over th’ console, like she is now, and she asked me tae tell her what was on my mind. I told her I didna think she was ready tae hear it… but then she pouted a bit and said wi’ fierce confidence that she was. So I told her. I said, “Sassenach, I’m thinkin I havena felt this way about anyone in my life” and then she said…”

“I love you,” Claire said, completing his sentence in admiration.

Brianna felt as though she were staring into the sun, the pure intensity of what they shared bringing her to tears. The change from paved road to gravel terrain under the tires of the car barely registered to her.

“Welcome to Lallybroch, a leannan,” Jamie said as the car pulled towards a castle-like structure that reminded Brianna of drawings and photographs she had often seen in her father Frank’s study. She wiped at the tears in her eyes for a better view.

Claire was suddenly reminded of the last time she had visited this place. She had been so consumed by fear for her child that she hadn’t been able to enjoy any of its beauty. Though she was still worried about what was to come, this time was much different.

Both Jamie and Brianna helped Claire out of the car. “Are you okay, Mama?” Brianna asked genuinely. To which Claire responded, “Yes,” just as genuinely. Claire noted happily to herself that she hadn’t even really struggled with her lungs to tell a full story to her daughter. Still, she accepted the assistance without a fight, wrapping her arms around each of their middles as they walked towards where Jenny and Ian were standing, waving happily at them.

Jenny and Ian welcomed them into their home with open arms and pure joy. They were elated to reunite with Claire outside of the hospital and had a feast prepared to prove it.
Jamie was thankful to Jenny for not pushing Claire or Brianna to speak more than they offered on their own. Both of his girls were more quiet than usual, clearly exhausted and not up for prodding or plotting revenge.

Beyond this night, Jamie was hoping Jenny would leave all of that to him. He had a few ideas of how to deal with both Geneva and Laoghaire, all he had to do was contact John to make sure it would work. With any luck, the two snakes would keep their mouths shut until then. He also hoped he could spare Marsali and Joan any unnecessary pain. In just a few weeks, he had somehow gone from wanting to complete their family to ripping it apart, and that weighed heavily on his soul. He was left with no choice though, he reminded himself. These women purposefully hurt his daughter. He could stand for much himself. They could throw all the stones they could carry at him, but they had hurt his family… and he would do what was necessary to protect them at any cost.

A clink of a utensil against an empty plate separated Jamie from his thoughts. He looked up to find his sister looking at him with a twinge of concern.
“Jenny, would ye mind seeing Bree tae a guest room whenever she’s ready? I would like tae get Claire situated in her room, she’s been sitting upright far too long.” Jamie stood, pushed his chair in, then gestured for Claire to join him. Jenny nodded, then looked over at Bree to share a smile.

“You know... I don’t need to be told when to go to bed, Jamie,” Claire said, not moving.

“Ye can barely keep yer head up, Sassenach,” he said. When she didn’t open her mouth to argue with him, he knew he was right. She then cautiously pushed her chair back toward where he stood behind her. “Ye dinna need me often, mo nighean,” Jamie said, placing his hands gently on her shoulders. “Let me take care o’ ye.”

Claire’s stern face melted, as it often had in response to his words. “Jamie, love, I need you, more than you know,” she said. “I never told you enough. I’ll be more mindful this time.”

“Aye,” he swallowed as his face melted. “Goodnight,” he said to the family remaining sitting at the table.

“Goodnight,” Claire said politely but as if it was against her will.

“Night, Mama,” Bree said, blowing a kiss. “Night, Da.” The rest of the table joined in after Bree.

The couple turned, Jamie stood beside her, bringing his left arm around her back to gently cradle her.

“Dinna be too loud, Uncle Jamie! I have exams tomorrow!” Jamie heard Young Jamie call after him before he heard a distinct “OW” from his namesake. Jamie imagined Jenny slapped him behind the head. Soon after, he also heard his daughter giggle before a faint “gross!” escaped her lips.

“While we’re on the subject… what was that about “her room?” she asked, accusingly as they walked. “Are we not sharing?”

“Weel, I only thought ye should have th’ choice…”

“You’ve slept beside me in the hospital each night for the past week… you’re going to leave my side now?”

“As long as ye want me there, lass. I’ll be there. I can sleep on th’ chair.”

“I want you there…” she said, looking over her shoulder at him as he guided her up the rickety staircase one step at a time. Once they entered the room that would be hers, she continued. “And you are not sleeping on the chair. There’s more than enough room.” She pointed toward the Queen-sized bed, then sat down on the corner of it.

“Weel, alright… no funny business, then. Ye heard my nephew. He’s got exams tomorrow.” He said, kneeling down in front of her to help her out of her pants.

“No funny business? What do you mean?”

He looked up at her with a quirked eyebrow as he slipped the first leg out.

“Well you should stop giving me mixed signals, then. You’re the one helping me undress.” He shook his head then continued his mission, while she continued to reason with him.
“This is the first night we’re going to be alone… no nurses or doctors or beeping noises…”

“Aye, and ye’re still hurt, mo ghraidh. I canna risk hurting ye more,” Jamie said, pulling his hands from her body.

“Jamie, you won’t hurt me,” she said as he moved to stand. “And actually, I’ve been encouraged to engage in some… breathing exercises. This can be one of them.”

Jamie blinked, dumbfounded. “Ye’re no’ serious...”

“But I am!” She grabbed for the bottom of his shirt as he started to step backwards. She was careful not to move her torso, just her arms.“I asked Geillis, she said it was perfectly safe, as long as you do most of the work.” She searched for something tangible to hold on to, landing her fingers on his belt loops.

“I dinna ken if we can trust her judgment on th’ matter!”

“She’s a nurse - my nurse, of course we can. And don’t forget, I am a doctor now.”

Once she was sure that he wouldn’t move away from her, she began shrugging off her cardigan. “You can google it! I won’t exert myself. I doubt it will take very long.”

Jamie’s eyebrows flew up at that insinuation. “And what is that supposed tae mean?”

“I mean... I’ve been aching for you for twenty years,” she said, laying back slowly, leaving her in nothing but a long, loose fitting t-shirt and her undergarments. “Watching you with our daughter has only... exacerbated that. Being near you but not able to touch you in the way that I want this past week has been torture. I’m tempted to say that it has been more painful for me than the broken ribs.” He gulped, staring at her, in a trance, unbroken even by her attempt at a joke. “You say I don’t often need you… but oh, love, how I do.”

She used her hands to push her panties down her legs as far as she could reach. Begging him to drag them the rest of the way down. “Don’t you need me?”

“I canna tell ye… what it felt like to find you again and then nearly lose you…”

“You won’t lose me,” she promised, angling her face so that she could rub the soft tip of her nose against the strong bridge of his. “I can see a thousand thoughts running across your face. It’s okay.”

“It will be, I promise. I’ll make it so.”

“I know,” she said, with complete faith. “As long as we’re together.”

“Ye ken that’s all I want, right? Nothing else. No one else.”

“Show me,” she said. It wasn’t a command, but a plea. She needed him and damn it all to hell, how was he supposed to be righteous and resist this woman.

“Alright, then,” he conceded. “Ye will have tae be very still. If ye move a muscle, I’ll have nay choice but tae stop.”

She nodded, but the thought of having to be still while he touched her had her heart racing. How could she possibly?

“And remember, ye have tae be quiet,” he added.

“Right, the exams…”

“Aye,” he said, pulling the cotton panties further and further down, taking his time, daring her to move. Before he made the last move to pull them all the way off, he brought her foot to his lips and sucked on her big toe, surprising her not for the first time that day.

“Jamie!” She scolded. “Gross!”

“Isna gross…” feigning offense. “I love yer wee toes.”

“Is this a new fetish? I don’t recall you having a thing for my toes before…”

He chuckled to himself instead of responding, then tossed the panties into the pile of pants on the floor.

“Can you help me get into a more comfortable position before you go any further than my feet?”

“O’ course, mo ghraidh.”

Jamie rearranged the pillows and helped her to inch up closer to the headboard. Before he threw all of the throw pillows onto the floor with the discarded clothes, she grabbed for his hand. “I’m going to need one of those, to hold onto.”

He placed the small pillow beside her. In the stretch, his shirt lifted just above the deep v where the hard muscles of his torso met his jeans. Suddenly, she was itching for just a touch. Her hands found his warm skin before he pulled away. She thought she could get away with reaching for him, but Jamie was no pushover. He took a step back and with a finger wag said, “Strike One.”

“So I get three strikes?”

“Aye, dinna waste them."

“What counts as moving?”

“Anything not involving yer hands, yer feet or yer face,” he said matter of factly. She was grateful she would have the option to grip whatever was close by, curl her toes or bite her lip should the need arise.

“Well, wouldn’t I have to move my legs a bit… for you to um…”

“Aye, leave that tae me,” he said, using his hands to spread her thighs apart. “Is that okay?” He asked, moving his fingers to trace from her knee to her stomach. She nodded. “Dinna hesitate tae tell me if something hurts or if ye need me tae stop. Promise me that ye’ll be honest.”

“I will, I promise,” she said, she wanted to meet his lips to seal the promise with a kiss, but knew that much movement was against the rules. Luckily, he could still read her mind quite well. He planted his lips against hers, bringing her bottom lip into his mouth.

“Talk tae me,” he breathed into her mouth. “What have ye been missing most?”

“You. You inside me,” She whined.

“Me? What part of me? My fingers?” he asked, teasing her entrance with a finger, then two.

“Mmm,” she moaned. “No, you. Your cock.”

“We’ll get there, Sassenach. What else?”

“Your mouth on my clit,” she answered, honestly.

“I thought so,” he said. “Hmmm,” he thought out loud as he brought his fingers in and out of her. “Ye’re verra wet, Sassenach. I canna believe I almost left ye wanting like this.”
“I’m very grateful that you changed your mind,” she said, her voice lifting at the end to mimic the motion of his fingers.

She felt a slight twitch in her calf that didn’t go unnoticed by Jamie. He removed his fingers and from where they were buried and dragged them across her thigh down to the calf muscle that had dared to move. “It didn’t count,” she said in response. “I can’t control twitching.”

He glared at her, and she glared back. “Alright,” he said, giving in.

“Now, let’s get started on yer breathing exercises. I want ye tae take slow, deep breaths for me. Can ye do that?”

She nodded and watched him disappear between her thighs. She breathed deep, in through her nose and out through her mouth, counting to three each time.“That’s a good lass,” he commended and made wild motions with his tongue in appreciation. Within seconds, she was reaching for the pillow beside her.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ,” she whispered. When the breathing wasn’t enough to distract her, she imagined there was a weighted blanket covering her entire body so that she couldn’t move. She bit the lip Jamie had in his mouth moments before. She could still taste him.

When she came, she shouted his name, much louder than she had intended. Everything she had been worried about, everything she would have to worry about left her mind as she laid there under his spell.

As she returned to her body, she felt her leg buckle on its own accord.

“Strike Two!” he said, her breath still hot on her center.

She breathed out slowly, not physically, or mentally, able to put up a fight.

“Well then, you better get your cock inside me before I’m out,” she said, teasing.

Realizing the implications of the game he was playing, he hastily ripped off his shirt, undid his buttons and released himself.

“Stay verra still, Sassenach,” he ordered, sweetly. He knelt on the bed, looking at her, trying to figure out what would be the safest way to approach the task at hand. He assumed a plank position on top of her, keeping his body farther away from her than she would ever want him to be. With one hand placed next to her shoulder, supporting his weight, he reached between them to line himself up with her entrance.

When they were finally joined, Claire felt stronger for it. She timed her deep breathing to match his thrusts. He breathed with her.

Not for the first time, Claire was in awe of how physically fit this man was. He was able to hold the plank and gently move within her, all while pushing his weight up and down for intermittent kisses. Not once did he falter. When she could tell he was close, she urged him with her words but he clearly had other plans.

“What are you doing?” she asked when she felt him pull away too soon.

“I canna finish, I dinna ken if I can control myself,” he confessed, his eyes watering with concern.

The heartbreaking look on his face made her not want to push him. Instead, she slipped her hands from the pillow to his thighs, reaching for him. He moved closer to her so that she didn’t have to reach so far. “Strike three,” he whispered as he watched her small pearly white hands stroke him a few times.

“Nuh-uh. Not fair. You said I could use my hands!” she countered.

“Aye but no yer arms,” he scolded.

She stopped her movements suddenly, dramatically ripping her arms away. He winced at the loss of her touch.

“Do you want me to stop, then?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, for God’s sake! Claire! Dinna stop now!”

She paused for a few seconds, just to torture him a bit more. “If you're quite sure…” she said laughing, slowly gripping him once again, teasing him with her motions.

“Gah,” he grunted, his neck losing the strength to carry his buzzing head. He pulled away to avoid releasing into her hand, aiming for his discarded shirt instead. She smiled at the small gesture.

Once they were both cleaned up and taken care of, they fell asleep on their backs side-by-side like a couple of kids sharing a bed. They rested peacefully for a while. That was the beauty of this ancient place hidden away in the highlands, after all. It brought them peace, even if just for the night.

Chapter Text

Jamie watched Claire breathe in and out, as he had every night they spent in the hospital together. Now, it was more for his pleasure than his worry that at any second she might stop. 

The smile that plastered his face grew wide when he realized that she had successfully made it through the night without needing pain medication. He was glad for any small amount of relief. 

Especially since he knew that the day ahead would not end up being a good one. He knew this based on the few texts and emails he had skimmed upon waking.

At the sound of yet another buzz coming from the bedside table, he rolled over, careful not to disturb the snoring mess of curls. Three long text messages from his assistant left him feeling especially anxious to get the day over with. 

With a feather light kiss to Claire’s temple, Jamie emerged from bed. He tiptoed over to his discarded clothes, pulling the pants back on so that he could walk around Lallybroch half decent.

Despite his attempt at being sly as a fox, Claire stirred at the sound of his large feet padding across the room. She blinked her eyes open, attempting to shed the darkness. “What time is it?” 

“Verra early, mo ghraidh. Go back tae sleep. I’m sorry fer wakin’ ye.”

“Where‘re you goin’?”

He chuckled at the sound of her mild disorientation. “I have some work tae tend to,” he answered, regretfully. “I dinna want tae leave ye…” “But you must... Mr. First Minister.”

“Aye. Poor Ainsley. I wouldna blame her if she quits, or throttles me. I’ve not been a verra good boss. The puir lass has been covering fer me wi’ the rest o’ th’ cabinet.” 

“Sounds like she’ll be receiving a delightful Christmas bonus… or an extra week of holiday…” 

“Aye. Weel, I will think on it once I have th’ time. Will ye stay here and take it easy while I am gone? Let Brianna, Jenny and Ian care fer ye as well? I might be gone fer a while...”

“I will,” she promised, nodding to provide extra reassurance. He mimicked her nodding, then grabbed for her left hand to place a kiss right below the knuckle on the finger that held his ring.

He was pulling his lips away from her skin when she spoke his name with a soft anguish. He froze at the fragile sound.

“Be careful,” she pleaded with him. Her watering eyes evoked the same worry that he had felt for her while she lay in the hospital. It remained unspoken, but of course, she knew that he wasn’t tending to his typical First Minister duties.

“I will,” he promised her just as she had promised him.

With every step away from Claire, Jamie felt the white hot rage inside of him grow. Her healing abilities went way past what was expected of a surgeon when it came to him. Her physical presence was able to quiet his thoughts and soothe his soul but once he made it to his study, he was more than ready to seek vengeance. 

Ainsley was less than thrilled to hear from Jamie at 5 a.m. Not because it was early… rather, because it was too late. Ainsley had been working through the night as she was inundated with calls and emails… all while he disappeared into the highlands with his family. 

To his assistant, Jamie had seemingly changed overnight. Up until Bree’s surprise arrival, his first priority had always been his work. He could tell that she was confused, concerned and mostly frustrated that he was making it very hard for her to do her job.

Everyone was wondering the same: What the hell is going on with the First Minister of Scotland? 

Media all over Europe were buzzing with various reports of mob ties and family scandals. People he hadn’t heard from in months were texting him.  His own team was nearly fed up.

Jamie knew he had to set the record straight once-and-for-all. Which is why he asked Ainsley to work with the press team to set up a press conference for later that night. He had a plan, he assured her, but he needed time. 

“Later… tonight?” she questioned him, using a tone he had never heard from her before. 

“I need ye tae gi’ me as much time as possible, Ainsley,” he nearly begged her. 

“Did you see the copy and the photos for the article the Mirror is going to run today?”

“No, I didna want tae look,” he grumbled, irritated. Their father-daughter getaway on horseback clearly elevated the public’s interest and now, the tabloids were grasping at straws. 

“The Mirror found photos of Brianna on Facebook and Instagram…” she started, taking a deep breath before continuing. “Sir, she appears to be drinking alcohol at a party…”

“That’s all? We drank whisky together moments after I met her.”

“Well...no, there are also a few photos where she seems to be pretty...out of it, and there’s one where she’s using a... bong.” 

“A what? A...bong?”

“To smoke marijuana, Sir.” 

“Ah,” he said, giving room for himself to process the information. As a politician, he fully supported the legalization of marijuana but as a father, he wasn’t sure what to say… for some reason, he just couldn’t imagine Brianna smoking. “When were these photos taken?” 

“2018, Sir.” 

“That’s th’ year her father died,” he said quietly. Ainsley wasn’t quite sure if he was even talking to her at that point, so she decided to continue her report. 

“There’s one where she’s definitely kissing another lass…” 

Ainsley drifted off as Jamie stayed quiet, thinking. Since he came to know Brianna, Roger had always been in the picture. Maybe, he thought tenderly. Maybe, they were alike in this way as well. 

“Sir, they want a quote,” Ainsley continued.

“A quote? A quote about what? About how they are exploiting my daughter’s grief and sexuality? Ask Caroline tae tell them about th’ press conference... mebbe they’ll think twice before runnin’ wi’ their rubbish.”

“I’ll work it out with the team. For what it’s worth, Sir, I don’t think many people will care… it’s all pretty normal teenager stuff.”

“Aye, but I care. I want my daughter tae feel safe wi’ me.” 

“Of course. I’ll start working on things on my end. Good luck with whatever you have planned, Sir.” 

“How did ye...?” he started, before she cut him off.

“You’re going to make sure your family is protected, Sir. I just want you to know that I support whatever you decide. You’ve been the best boss I’ve ever had.”

Her words were a bit of a relief of the guilt he carried for largely ignoring his professional responsibilities for the past few weeks. They hung up on that positive note, both setting out to make things right for his family.

His next call was to John Grey, who was happy to hear from Jamie as he was one of the worried friends who had been texting him since the abrupt end of Brianna’s party. 

Unfortunately, John did not have good news for Jamie. He was only able to confirm that the security cameras in the castle weren’t set up to view beyond the first floor or exteriors. This lack of hard evidence would make it more difficult to prosecute the women for kidnapping, the detective confirmed. Especially since Brianna was only missing for minutes before Murtagh was able to find and release her. 

While he knew exactly what was and wasn’t on the security tapes, there was no way for Geneva, or Laoghaire, to be sure, and he would use that to his advantage.

Jamie decided to target Geneva first. Based on what Brianna and Jenny had told him of her, he believed that she would turn on her friend to save her own skin the first chance she was given. Laoghaire, he suspected, was far more loyal and more desperate to protect herself.

If he was going to figure out what Laoghaire had done to Claire, which she had almost admitted to Geneva that night… manipulating the devil woman into betraying her friend would be the way to expose the truth of it all, he was sure of it. John, who had also known Geneva briefly, was supportive of this tactic. 

Before texting Geneva to set up a meeting, he made one last friendly call to his Godfather to ask him to watch over his family while he was away to put it into action. Murtagh wished Jamie luck, then promised to arrive at Lallybroch before the sun rose for the day. 

Jamie sat with his phone in his hands, dreading what came next until a light tap on the door let him know that he was no longer alone. Jamie stood at the sound. 

“Hi,” Brianna whispered, peeking into the study. 

“Good morning, a leannan,” Jamie whispered back. “Come in!” 

“Sorry to bother you so early,” her eyes darted around the cold, dark study. “I just saw Mama and she told me I would find you here.” 

“Ye’re nae bother, lass,” he said, offering her the seat in front of his desk. “What are ye doin’ up sae early? Is everythin’ okay?” The volume of Jamie’s voice grew in concern.

“Umm, yeah,” she said as she took the seat. At eye level, she found a framed photo of her mother that must have been taken when she was around Brianna’s age.

Jamie caught her staring and smiled.

“You’ve had that on your desk all this time?” she inquired, reaching for the photo. 

“Aye,” he confirmed. 

“You’re such a sap!” she laughed at him and he was grateful to hear it. 

He shrugged as he blushed, then sat across from her before asking her to speak to him candidly.

“Well… Some press reached out to a few of my friends asking for permission to use old photos of me. They offered to pay them hundreds of US dollars.”

“Hmph,” he muttered, suddenly remembering the conversation he had with Ainsley just an hour before. “And yer so-called friends… they did this then? Sent pictures of ye fer money?” 

“I told them to go for it.” 

“What in the name of holy God do ye mean?” he nearly shouted due to his surprise.

“I just… I don’t really care what those losers say about me. And they’re going to say whatever they want, regardless….so I thought it might be nice for my friends to at least get some extra money for it.” When he stayed silent, gobsmacked, she continued, “I know you’re probably feeling super guilty and wanting to do something crazy to protect me and I just needed you to know that it’s okay. I chose this life when I flew across the world to find you. Whatever happens…”

“Bree…” he tried to interrupt, but she had to keep talking before she lost her nerve. 

“There’s something else… I… Da, I’m bisexual. Or at least I think I am… but I wanted to tell you that before any photos get out and all of Scotland starts making assumptions about me. I wanted to make sure you heard it from me… Mama is the only other person I’ve ever told.``

“And ye shouldna have tae be forced tae tell me or anyone else. I am sorry fer that.” 

“It’s okay…" 

“Nae, it’s really not,” he said, reaching across the desk to hold her hand in his. “I appreciate you saying so and tryin’ tae make me feel better, though.”

“And do you still...are you... okay with me..?” She didn’t seem sure of what to ask, or how.

“Okay with ye? Och lass, ye didna worry about how I would react did ye?” 

“Well, only a little,” she admitted shyly, biting the inside of her cheek. “You are kind of old fashioned in some ways…” 

“I will love ye no matter what, mo chridhe. Not tae mention… we are the same, you and I…” he raised his eyebrows in insinuation, almost playfully.

“What do you mean?! You’re bisexual?!” 

“Aye, I am… and before ye ask... yer mother kens.” 

“Wow… I had no idea…” 

“I dinna really advertise it...” he drifted off in thought. If he could admit this about himself now to the public, he might be able to save Brianna some trouble… all the focus would be on him. 

“No,” Brianna said, as if she saw the wheels turning in his mind. “I don’t want you doing anything heroic now. I don’t want you telling the press to change the narrative, or whatever.”

“How did ye…?” 

“Like you said...we are the same, you and I. That’s what I would have wanted to do.” 

Jamie stood in awe of her, then made his way around the desk to embrace her. 

“I will protect you wi’ my last breath, m’ansaachd.” 

She gripped him tight and whispered into his chest, “I know, Da.” 

“Now,” he said, pulling away to look at her. “May I suggest ye go back tae sleep a bit before Jenny wakes and asks ye tae help wi’ th’ chores?”

Brianna laughed. “I wouldn’t mind, especially if I got to help with the animals!”

“With their shite, more like.”  

Her nose scrunched in disgust. “Back to sleep it is!” she said, turning to the door. 

“You know…” she stopped herself reaching for the knob. “I had a lot of expectations before meeting you… and you’ve somehow surpassed all of them.” She didn't turn to see his face before leaving, which was streaked with tears and pure adoration. He took deep, deliberate breaths after the door shut, needing to compartmentalize his overwhelming feelings of gratitude and love for his child in order to properly handle Geneva Dunsany. 

Sat back down at his desk, he reached for his phone to message her: "We need to talk." 

Chapter Text

Brianna never made it back to her room to sleep the morning away. Her Aunt Jenny found her in the kitchen drinking a glass of water, and as her father predicted, she was roped into helping with the early morning chores. At her aunt’s suggestion, she stuck by her cousin Maggie’s side as she went through her morning routine. 

Brianna found that she preferred Maggie’s chores to her own. Bree was rather fascinated by the highland lifestyle and very much enjoyed feeding the horses, chickens, and goats. 

When they re-entered the house from outside, Brianna inhaled a most welcome and familiar scent. “Ma never lets us drink coffee,” Maggie grumbled. “You have her wrapped around your finger!” 

Brianna smiled to herself and followed Maggie as they sought out the fresh brew. 

“It’s Caitriona!” Jenny’s oldest son shouted from another room. Maggie stopped short, colliding with Brianna. 

“Huh?” Brianna asked as Maggie turned to the sound of her brother’s voice.  

“Murtagh is here!” Maggie responded.

“With some preppy bloke!” young Jamie added. 

Brianna’s expression quickly transformed from excited to distressed at the description. As her cousins went to meet the visitors outside, Brianna stayed frozen in place, peering out the window through the nearly translucent curtains. 

Murtagh emerged from Caitriona, leaving the driver’s door open. She watched as young Jamie ran past his uncle to take a seat in the car. She wasn’t sure if his plan was to take it for a spin, or only to sit in it, but regardless, he behaved much like a child on Christmas. Murtagh was clearly accustomed to the behavior. 

Roger was bent over in the backseat, reaching for something. When he finally stood tall, her mouth tilted upwards into a smile. It may not have been her immediate reaction, but she was happy to see him.

“You just missed Uncle Jamie!” Maggie shouted to Murtagh as they approached the front door to the house. “That’s Roger right?” Maggie lowered her voice to ask Brianna, who had just joined her out front.

Brianna took a deep breath, then nodded. “That’s him.”

“He’s cute, Bree!” she squealed. 

“Shhhhh,” Brianna hushed Maggie, in hope that she would be able to contain herself when Roger closed the distance between them.

“Hi, I...uh… I brought yer phone and yer plaid,” Roger said.

“Oh my god!” Brianna reacted in genuine shock. “I thought I’d never see these again! I’ve been using my iPad to communicate with the world!” 

She put her dead phone in her back-pocket and brought the plaid around her shoulders. She instantly felt warmth in her veins. “Thank you, Roger,” she said. 

“‘Twas nothin’,” he said, smiling back at her.

“So I missed yer father, hmm?” Murtagh cut in, wanting to confirm Maggie’s earlier statement. 

Brianna and Maggie nodded in unison. Both making their own variations of regretful “mhm” noises. 

“Aye, he must be at Geneva’s already, th’ puir lad,” Murtagh said with a sigh, knowing that his Godson was in for a shite day.

“Geneva’s?” Brianna asked, wondering what exactly her father was up to. She looked to Murtagh for an explanation. 

“Never ye mind, lass,” he said, but then remembered who he was talking to. “As stubborn as yer parents..” Murtagh mumbled under his breath before continuing on. “He’s working on gettin’ her tae confess what she did tae ye... and I promised him I’d be here as soon as I could, but this wee fool insisted we go back to the castle first.”

“I am very grateful,” Brianna said, looking up at Murtagh, pulling the Fraser tartan even tighter around her body. 

“Och, lass,” Murtagh swooned at the sight of her big blue eyes. “I’m glad we were able to return that tae ye.” 

“Maggie! Jamie!” the high pitched voice of a concerned mother echoed from the house. “Bring our guests inside! It’s jeelit!” 

Maggie turned, beckoning for everyone to follow. Instead of sticking close behind her cousin, Brianna slowed to fall into step with Roger.

“Can we talk?” she whispered to him as they neared the entrance of Lallybroch. 

“Aye, o’course…” he leaned into her.

Just as Maggie was about to step foot over the threshold, they heard tires turning over gravel behind them. 

Brianna turned to see a blonde head peeking out behind the wheel of a Nissan Altima. Her mind automatically assumed that it was Laoghaire, who had unfinished business with her family. Before Brianna was able to react, Marsali exited the vehicle, looking like she was panicking enough for the both of them. 

“I need to speak wi’ Da -- Jamie,” Marsali shouted as she crossed the drive hastily. Her sweater hung from her elbows as she slowed to catch her breath.

“He’s not here,” Brianna said, apologetically. “Are you even allowed to be driving?” 

Marsali ignored her question, responding with her own. “What do ye mean? Ye’re here, so he has tae be! I need tae speak wi’ him now!” 

Brianna’s mind rushed, but not with anything useful to say. Brianna was sympathetic to Marsali’s apparent state of disarray, but knew that she probably shouldn’t be giving away her father’s whereabouts. Especially when she hadn’t even known where he was up until moments ago. 

Maggie, on the other hand, did not hesitate with that information. “He went tae Geneva’s, Murtagh said so,” she offered, trying to offer her panicked friend some help. “He didnae leave too long ago. Ye could wait here fer him, or find him there.”

Brianna turned to Murtagh to see his expression as Maggie leaked what Brianna believed to be confidential information. He was groaning and pulling at his eyelids. He stopped at the sound of Marsali’s feet pounding against the gravel, back to her mother’s car. 

“Lass!” Murtagh called after her. “Dinnae be goin’ anywhere near Geneva Dunsany! Stay away from that wretched woman, fer yer own good.” 

Ignoring him, she started the car the second she was sitting inside, then disappeared as fast as she arrived.

“I dinnae ken what ye were warning her about,” Roger spoke up. “If anyone kens how tae deal wi’ a wretched woman, it's the lass who was born tae the worst of ‘em.”

“I’ll text Da to let him know she’s looking for him,” Brianna said, reaching for her phone in her back pocket. Despite her thumb’s efforts, the screen is black. “F- I forgot. It’s dead.” 

“Dinna fash, I’ll text him,” Murtagh said, putting a hand on her tartan-covered shoulder. As if he could sense Roger and Bree needed a moment alone, he shouted for Jamie to finally abandon Caitriona, then guided him and Maggie into the house. 

“Murtagh texting? That has to be your influence,” Roger said, to which Bree laughed. 

“I may have taught him a thing or two. Now I need to convince him to get a phone with a QWERTY keyboard or maybe even a touchscreen!”

Roger chuckled at the thought of Murtagh, the simple man he had come to know well in the past 24 hours, trying to become tech savvy for his grand-niece. 

Brianna wanted nothing more than to keep the banter going, but she couldn’t just let his confession hang between them. So, she took a deep breath and said, “I’m sorry I didn’t say it back.”

He looked confused for a split second before a look of understanding registered on his face. “Dinna be sorry, I kent it was too soon.”

“I just… I think I’m still figuring out what love even is… I look at what my parents have and it’s completely overwhelming! I like you so much and I do want you to be my boyfriend, but I’m a mess! My life is completely turned upside down right now! I’ve got a whole new family in a foreign country and the press won’t leave me alone and I don’t even know what I want...” She had so much more to say, but she was running out of breath.

“Brianna, Bree… Breathe,” he reminded her, stroking her arms gently. “It’s okay. I only said it then because I wanted you to ken that I was truly sorry for what happened at the party and that I am still here because I have these feelings for you that I can’t imagine going away. Once yer settled... in Scotland, or wherever ye end up… I’d like tae court ye… if ye’d give me th’ chance.” 

“Court me?” she bubbled over in laughter. 

“Those are yer father’s words! He cornered me at yer party. At first I thought he was goin’ tae punch me square in the jaw but then he didn’t. Instead, he asked me if I intended tae court ye properly… and I said yes. Actually, it was more of a ‘Yes, Sir’ but ye get the point.” 

“He’s ridiculous!” Bree rolled her eyes.

“He loves ye,” he said low and sure. He knew the feeling. 

She smiled brightly, then quickly pecked him on the lips before hooking her arm around his. “Let’s go inside so I can finally get some coffee, charge my phone, and check on my mom.” 

“Let’s go,” he said, letting her lead him inside. 

“Thanks for being amazing,” she whispered into his shoulder. She hoped it wouldn’t take an injury for her to figure out her feelings but every second he was there for her, he made it harder for her not to fall.

Chapter Text

Jamie was surprised when Geneva answered the door herself but wasn’t surprised at all when she didn’t offer him pleasantries. She stood confidently just before the threshold. 

“So, did you come here to apologize for your daughter’s violent actions?” she asked, reaching up to cradle the cheek Brianna had slapped as she did her best impression of a wounded innocent. 

At the mention of a portion of the evening that had indeed been caught on camera to be seen by the world, Jamie faltered a bit. A swell of pride, followed by a pit of worry took root in his stomach.

“Ye ken why I’m here. Fer th' truth,”  Jamie said, trying his best to control his shaking voice. “Why did ye lock my daughter in a closet?” 

“I did no such thing! Your daughter is a liar! If she even is your daughter… Did you ever manage to get that blood test? You accepted her little story so quick-”

He cut her off, not willing to entertain her. “I saw th’ security footage, Geneva.” His voice was no longer shaking, it was convincing.

“Security footage?” she asked, taking a step inside, wordlessly inviting him to follow. The gesture suggested to Jamie that she wanted privacy for further discussion. 

“Aye. Footage that the media would find verra interesting, tae be sure.” He shut the door behind him. 

“Hmm. Is that so?” She tested him. “Then why haven’t you leaked it yet?” 

“Because I believe ye’d be willing tae save yer sparkling reputation in exchange fer some information.” 

She fell silent for a few moments, calculating her next move. “Okay. I’ll tell you everything you want to know.” she said finally, reaching out to poke his chest, punctuating her offer. 

Jamie disregarded the playful gesture.“Ye will?” he asked, his eyebrows giving away his genuine surprise. 

“I will, if you do something for me first,” she said, turning away from him. She took slow steps further into the house. He watched her for a moment, then was distracted by the sensation of his phone buzzing silently in his back pocket. He didn’t dare reach for the device, only hoping the audio recording application would work despite the interruptions.  

“What do ye want?” He asked, following in her path. 

“I want you.” She said, turning back to face him. “If you sleep with me, James Fraser. I will tell you everything you want to know about your fiancee. Or is it ex -fiancee?” she laughed.  “I can’t keep up!”

“Ye canna be serious?” He shrugged away, offended. 

“Oh, I’m very serious. You have to know by now that I am attracted to power, James. Those who have it. Finding ways to exploit my own. It’s so… erotic. I’m also partial to being a bit naughty.” She looked at him now, not as an enemy, but as if he were a second helping of dessert.

“So ye want tae bed me tae fulfill a perverted fantasy?”

“Are you really going to tell me you’ve never thought about it? Come on, James. Laoghaire was never your type. And me?” She pulled on a stray tendril of her brunette mane. “Something tells me I am much closer…” 

“Ye would do that tae yer best friend?” he asked, taking a step back. 

She scoffed at his response.“Suddenly you care about Laoghaire and her feelings? Besides, didn’t you expect me to betray her? Isn’t that why you’re here?”

“I am here for the truth and that is all I am here for.” 

“That’s a shame. We could have had a lot of fun, you and I. I can’t imagine you’re having much fun now. The poor old woman just got out of the hospital for Christ’s sake!”

“Dinnae speak o’ Claire!” He roared, shocking her enough to cause her to lose her footing.

“Ah, I hit a nerve,” she whispered. “If she wasn’t back in your life, would you sleep with me? Even just for information, James?” 

“No, I wouldnae.”

“What if the information was vital to figuring out who was targeting your family? Would you sleep with me then?” 

“I wouldnae touch ye tae save th’ world from burning,” he growled, then turned his back to her as quickly as the words spilled out.

Rejected, Geneva felt flames rising from her chest, heating her cheeks. She chose her next words carefully, meaning to stop him from leaving. “I am the only person in the world who knows what Laoghaire did to your precious Claire . You think me locking your daughter in a closet for a few minutes was bad? Ha!” 

She smiled to herself as his behavior met her expectations. He turned slowly, then took two long strides to meet her face-to-face.

“I told ye not tae speak o’ Claire,” he warned. His low and measured tone, matched with his threatening body language told her it would be his final warning.“I think I best try my luck with Laoghaire’s own conscience. If she was guilty enough to admit her wrongdoings to a snake like you, she must not be feeling verra well over it.”

Jamie would not allow Geneva to have a shot at the last word. This time when he turned his back to her, he marched toward the exit and slammed the door shut behind him.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but he surely was not expecting her to ask him to her bed… and he surely wasn’t expecting to find Marsali pacing outside.

“Marsali?” He asked. “What’re ye doin’ here?”

“Och, Hi,” she said, acknowledging him, without a pause in her pacing. “I’m here for you, actually.” 

His concern grew as he descended the stairs outside the Dunsany Mansion. He had never seen Marsali’s glow so dim. “Are ye okay, lass?” 

“No,” she said, plainly. “I’m not okay.”

Jamie approached her slowly, pausing to look back to make sure he wasn’t followed. With both of his arms, he reached out to help keep her still. His hands landed on her shoulders, which were stiff. His eyes locked with hers, which were watering.“What’s goin’ on?” he asked, softly.

“I have something I need tae tell ye. And I’m worried it’s goin’ tae ruin my life.” 

He looked back at the mansion once again, worried Geneva might have something to say about what Marsali was here to tell him. “Let’s go sit, lass,” he said, guiding her to move by the small of her back.

They sat together in his car. Marsali gathered her hands in her lap, focusing on specs of dust on the dashboard. Jamie focused on her, waiting patiently for her to speak.

“When my father passed, I thought my Ma and Joanie were my only family. But then you came into my life and I knew that wasnae true. I knew it was possible tae have a family of my own that wasnae given tae me by God, but by choice. Ye treat me better than my true father ever did. Sometimes, I think ye treat me better than my Ma. And now ye have even more family that ye chose… I see how much ye love Brianna... and her Mother…” she sniffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve before continuing. “Which is why I ken I have tae be honest with ye. Ye taught me tae be an honorable person… so I have tae do this.” 

She spoke as if she was still convincing herself. Jamie worried that whatever was to come might truly break her apart.  

“I overheard my Ma talking tae Aunt-- tae Geneva last night” she said through a sob. “I couldnae sleep and I was sick tae my stomach so I snuck out this morning tae find ye.” Then she straightened her posture, setting her mind to rip off the bandage quickly. “She’s been working with yer uncles and -- and-- she planned tae cut Claire’s brakes. Th’ only reason she didnae was because it had already been done. She --”

“She knew that Claire’s car had been tampered with?” he asked, his mind raced while his body sat numb and frozen in the seat of his car. “She’s been working with the Scottish Mob?” 

“Aye,” she confirmed. Letting the tears fall. “If I hadn’t heard the words from her mouth, I wouldnae believe it but…” 

“But ye did... hear her say this?”

He watched her face crumple as she confirmed that she did. A burning rage seared through him. He did his best to reign it in while Marsali was watching him, but knew he was failing. Claire could have died in that accident, he thought . He gripped the steering wheel with a force that could crush a slightly less durable object. 

He had so many questions he knew she couldn’t possibly answer.

How could a mother do such a thing tae another mother? 

How could she work wi’ criminals wi’ two lassies at home? 

How could I use this puir girl’s word against her own mother?

As if she read his mind, she said with resolve, “Do what you must.” 

He sat in awe of the teenager beside him. Have I the strength tae do such an honorable thing? If it meant losing Claire or Bree, he thought not.

“My father taught me that there are consequences fer our actions,” she said. “I hope hers aren’t as severe as they should be.” 

He grieved for her innocence, for her family, for the only life she has known. “Marsali, I will make sure that you and Joanie are okay. I promise ye that,” he said, because it was all he could do.

“I ken, Jamie.” 

At the sound of her dimmed voice calling him by his first name instead of “Da” or “Daddy,” he finally lost hold of himself.

Chapter Text

Brianna was positively glowing as she reached to open the black-out curtains. Sunlight streamed in, creating a halo around her ruddy locks. Claire couldn’t remember a time where her daughter had seemed so… at peace. Despite all the madness surrounding them, Brianna was finally right where she belonged. 

The short wave of joy was followed by a sharp pang of pain.

Claire wished she could blame her aching bones, but she knew that it was truly guilt. When her face fell, Brianna was quick to notice. 

“I’m sorry, love,” she said, not for the first time since her arrival in Scotland. Claire immediately regretted her apology when Brianna’s smile dimmed.She sat beside her mother then, much like she did in the hospital. “We talked about this Mama, you have nothing to be sorry for, truly.”

“It’s just… I am still mourning the time that we lost.”

“I know, but it can’t be changed. We can’t go back in time. So… let’s give this our all? Hmm?” She raised both eyebrows in an effort to lighten the mood.  

“I’ll give you – and your father – everything I have,” Claire promised. Brianna beamed in appreciation. 

“Want to go downstairs? Aunt Jenny made some noms – it smelled delicious!” 

“Yes, darling,” she said, placing a kiss on her daughter’s wrist. “Will you just help me put on some more clothes? A sweater, perhaps,” she motioned towards the open suitcase on the floor. 

“This one okay?” Brianna asked, pulling out an oversized gray sweater. 

Claire sat up to get a better look.“Perfect,” she confirmed, but getting a whiff of herself, she hesitated before moving towards her daughter. “I must wash a bit first. I smell like the White Sow!” 

“Hey! I met the White Sow earlier today – and she didn’t smell half as bad!” Brianna giggled madly.

Claire had to resist jabbing her daughter, to save her body any pain from sudden movement. 

“I’m kidding, you always smell lovely,” Brianna took a step back and gestured for her mother to join her in standing. “It’s one of my favorite things about you.” 

“Really?” Claire asked incredulously. Standing to meet her daughter’s nose. Brianna had been taller than her since she was in middle school. The height difference made it easy for Bree to take a deep breath of her mother’s untamed curls “Really, you always smell like the earth – like fresh air and flowers, and sometimes dirt. It’s so – it’s so… comforting.” 

Claire beamed at her daughter. “You smell like sunlight and sugar and pure love,” she said.

Brianna’s face turned red as her hair. “Oh shhh! Let’s get you in the shower. We have to make this quick before my cousins gobble up all the goods.” 

Fifteen minutes later, Claire and Brianna were descending the stairs, not because they were ready, but because they heard very loud banging, followed by very loud voices.

Bree tried to convince Claire to stay in her room, while she went to see what was going on but it was no use. “If you don’t help me down, I’ll just follow you,” Claire had said. Which is why they were now taking each step together, much slower than Claire had thought necessary. 

“Is that…” Claire and Brianna both started, realizing at the same time. “ Laoghaire .” 

It was a name neither of them wanted to speak and certainly a face neither of them wanted to see. They both wished this inevitability could have waited a bit longer to show up uninvited. 

Bree helped her mother down the final steps, then looked down into her eyes, asking what to do without uttering a single word. 

“It’ll be okay. You stand behind me, smudge. I won’t let her hurt you again,” Claire said, mustering all of her strength to stand tall and walk as if she hadn’t just spent a week in the hospital. 

As they got closer to the foyer, they could also hear Jenny’s voice. But while Jenny was composed with her anger, Laoghaire was unhinged. Claire knew that her appearance would only make it worse, but she couldn’t stop herself from confronting her at this point. Laoghaire was the one who disturbed their safe haven, after all.

Ever since hearing about what had transpired at Brianna’s party, Claire dreamed of what she might do when she next saw the vile woman. Given her physical state, violence was off the table. So, she would settle for flattening her with words.

Murtagh, who was standing between Laoghaire and Jenny, turned first at the sound of Claire entering the room and clearing her throat. “Claire,” he breathed out. The women he stood separating followed his eyes. “Are ye okay, lass?” He asked, which she found quite funny to her, given the situation he found himself in. 

“I’m fine, are you?” She asked, trying to stifle her laugh. Claire and Brianna took a few steps into the room and Jenny and Laoghaire took a few steps further apart. 

“Where’s Roger?” Brianna asked, once she took stock of the room.

“He’s in the kitchen with yer cousins, they didnae need to see this,” her Aunt said softly, brushing loose hairs behind her ears. 

“I notice you didn’t say ‘hear this,’” Brianna quipped.

“Aye, weel, I ken we’re no’ bein’ quiet,” Jenny responded, gesturing to the appearance of her niece and future sister-in-law.

Laoghaire avoided looking at Claire again, her eyes focused on where she stood on the carpet. 

“I didnae come here to cause trouble. I’m only looking for my daughter,” Laoghaire murmured. 

Claire had to stop herself from calling her all sorts of names straight out the gate, starting with pathetic. 

“Did you check the closets already, then?” Claire asked instead, bitingly. 

A deer caught in headlights, Laoghaire gulped loud, amplified by the silence. “I dinna ken what she told ye…” 

“Don’t. You. Dare,” Claire stepped closer, despite Brianna’s arm holding her back. “If you call my daughter a liar to my face, knowing what you’ve done to her…” 

“You dinna understand, Claire.” 

“I understood perfectly fine. You were upset that you were losing Jamie and I understood you. God, I was you! But then you let your jealousy turn you into someone who could hurt someone else – an innocent girl. That’s something I could never do. So now you’re right, I don’t understand a thing about you. Brianna did nothing to you. She’s just a girl, who wanted her father. I think you can understand that.”

“I –” Laoghaire dared to speak, but Claire disregarded her, took a step closer, and made her intentions to continue clear.

“And now, instead of feeling guilty for unintentionally hurting your family, I get to feel pure anger at you for intentionally hurting mine. Should I thank you for that? For making yourself a villain in our story?” She paused, letting her rhetorical question shake her properly. “Thank you, Laoghaire. Because now, when I look at Jamie, and he looks back at me, I will never, ever feel guilty again.” 

Brianna had to physically restrain herself from cheering. She had seen her mother in conflict before, sure. Claire and Frank had fought all the time. But this was different, Brianna had never seen her mother confront someone with everything she had. 

With tears threatening to escape, Laoghaire stood speechless. It was clear she was harnessing all of her strength to stand her ground while she searched for words to defend herself. 

“Saved by the bell,” Brianna joked in fake earnest at the sound of Claire’s cell phone ringing. 

“Jamie, hi,” She answered, not breaking eye contact with Laoghaire. Claire allowed her to overhear his loving greeting before she lowered the volume and stepped away. 

“Yes, everything is okay,” she whispered into the phone. 

Trying to draw attention away from Claire’s conversation, Jenny turned to Laoghaire to tell her something along the lines of "get the hell out of my house, demon" in fiery Gaelic.

Laoghaire ignored the request, approaching Claire. “Please, Claire, can ye ask him if he’s seen Marsali?” Murtagh jumped in front of the distraught woman to keep her from getting any closer. “Please!” 

Claire groaned, she hadn’t wanted to alert him of Laoghaire’s presence. Turning to face the wall, she plugged her exposed ear with her pointer in an effort to focus on Jamie’s voice, which had now taken on a strange, anxious tone. “Yes, it’s Laoghaire. She wants to know if you’ve seen Marsali….. What? Yes, he's here. Okay….okay, love.” 

“Murtagh, he wants to speak with you…” she said, handing over her phone.

“Hi lad,” he said. “Aye... Aye, o’course...Understood… And what about...? Are ye sure?”  Murtagh sighed, bringing the phone down away from his ear. 

“He wants to speak wi’ ye,” Murtagh said to the last person any of them expected Jamie would want to speak with. 

"Jamie!" She shrieked, lifting the phone to her cheek. "Have you seen Marsali?" Her bottom lip trembled as she asked the question again, her voice was raw.

It was clear how worried she was for her daughter, and Claire almost felt bad for her. 

Whatever answer Jamie had for Laoghaire did not console her. Instead, it drained the blood from her face and the worry that lived in her expression was replaced with something that looked a lot like guilt. Without another word to anyone, she dropped the phone into Murtagh’s waiting palm and flew to the exit.

Acting as if nothing of consequence had happened, Murtagh began talking business. “Weel, I have my orders from the First Minister," he said. "I need th' two of ye tae go and pack yer bags so that I can take ye tae a safe house.”

“What the fuck just happened?” Bree asked, seriously confused. 

“Bree! Language!” 

“Really, Mama?” she nearly laughed, but the serious look on her mother’s face stopped her.

“She’s right though,” Jenny interrupted. “What th’ feck just happened? Murtagh? Is Marsali okay?" 

“Marsali is fine. The First Minister has a press conference and then he’ll meet us at the safe house,” Murtagh answered, dodging parts of the question he didn't have answers for.

“Well, if he’s having a press conference, I’m going.” 

“He sounded pretty shaken, smudge, I don’t know if that’s –”

Interrupting her mother, she tried to explain why there wasn’t a choice, “This whole thing wouldn’t be happening if it weren’t for me! They are going to blast him with questions about me and those stupid photos! It’s not fair! I want to be there myself. I have a right to defend my own honor. Aunt Jenny, can I borrow your car?” 

Before Jenny could respond, Murtagh stepped in front of Brianna so that they were eye-to-eye. “I have been given strict orders to keep ye and yer mother safe. Ye’re not goin’ anywhere but the safe house,” he said, meaning his words to be final. 

Giving up on convincing him, she turned to her mother. “Mama, If we don’t show the world who we really are – this will never end! We will never have a normal – well – somewhat normal life! I need to do this. For our future, for our family.” 

Though it went against her own instincts, Claire simply nodded. “Murtagh, I know he gave you orders… but I’ve done too much already trying to keep my daughter safe. I don’t want to take choices away from her if I can help it. Can you please take us to the press conference?” 

“He may never forgive me fer it,” he shook his head in defeat.

“He knows that you never stood a chance against us,” Bree smirked. “I’m going to tell Roger, get changed real quick, and then I’ll meet you down here with our things to go to the safe house after the conference.” She bolted from the room, likely so he didn’t have a chance to tell her that he changed his mind. Claire smiled gratefully, then followed behind her daughter wanting to grab some food from the kitchen before their journey. 

“You gave in to those two quite quickly…” Jenny prodded, but quickly softened her tone upon seeing his reaction. “Dinna fash. He will forgive ye, ye ken. Because ye will keep them safe.”

“Ye’re right. I did give in quickly. And I am sorry for it but ye didna hear him, Jenny, I’m afraid he’s going to do something he cannae take back.”

“Like what?” she asked, suddenly very afraid for her younger brother.

“I dinna ken, but what I do ken is that if Claire and Brianna are there, well, he might think a bit before he acts."

Chapter Text

“Can’t you drive any faster?” Brianna asked, reaching a look over at the speedometer.

“Do ye want me tae be pulled over, lass? Or do ye want tae get tae th’ presser in time?” Murtagh reasoned with her. But she grumbled a “Hmph,” unsatisfied with his response. Murtagh muttered something that sounded a lot like “just like her father” to Claire, which made her smile to herself despite the situation.

“He’s going over the speed limit, darling,” Claire added with a soft pat to her daughter’s stiff shoulders. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

“Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?” Brianna asked, twisting her head to face her mother. Her bright hair popped against the dark leather seats, which sparked another concern for her mother.

“Murtagh, have you got a hat, or scarf, or something in here for Bree to wear? She’ll never make it through a crowd of people obsessing over her with that hair – she’ll be spotted instantly.”

“Aye,” he responded, locking eyes with Claire in the rear view mirror. “Check the glovebox, Bree.”

Bree obeyed without a word and reached in to grab the gray wool bonnet she found sitting there. She let it rest in her lap while she tied her hair back into a low bun resting at the base of her neck. Before pulling the bonnet on, she reached for the visor mirror.

“Never could rock a hat,” she sighed at her reflection.

“Ye’re doin’ just fine,” Roger whispered, speaking up for the first time since entering the car.

“Now they may just mistake ye for Jamie’s long-lost son,” Murtagh said in jest, but no one laughed. Instead, they went quiet at the sight of a crowd ahead.

“We’re here,” Roger said, stating the obvious as they approached Charlotte Square.

Brianna thought it strange that most of the cameras outside were circling around one person, instead of their individual newscasters. In an effort to identify the person at the center, she squinted but then lost complete sight of whoever it was as the car passed the crowd by.

“We can go around the back, I ken th’ way,” Murtagh said. “Just promise me that ye will no’ leave my side. I canna lose sight of either one of ye.”

“Promise,” both mother and daughter said in unison as Murtagh swiftly handled one final turn.

“What about me, Murtagh? Ye dinna mind losing sight of me?” Roger balked.

“Ye’ll stay wi’ the car in case we need to make a quick exit,” he said, shifting Caitriona into park. “I’ll trust you can handle her.”

“Ye can trust me,” Roger confirmed before stepping out of the car, following everyone else. He then walked around the car to the drivers’ side where Bree met him with a brief peck to his lips. “Thank you for being our getaway driver,” she said, then followed her mother and Murtagh into Bute House.

Brianna wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but the inside of Bute House felt more like a museum than a home. She couldn’t believe her father worked there most of the year, let alone lived there. It lacked his warmth. There was no sign of him anywhere, save the occasional Scottish flag. With her mother at her elbow, she followed Murtagh (and the tall bald security guard who gathered them from the back entrance) through the long, carpeted hallways.

“There’s Ainsley,” Murtagh pointed, stopping short to veer off the path.

“What are you all doing here?” She asked, nearing a state of panic. “If the press gets a whiff of this…”

“Hi, I’m Bri-” Brianna started, but Ainsley cut her off. “I know who you are! You need to get out of here!”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Brianna crossed her arms to make a point.

“If the press gets a whiff of this – of you being here – it’s all for naught. He’s trying to protect you!”

“She wants to help clear things up for the press. To speak for herself,” Claire said motioning to her daughter who appeared to be one stroke away from going up in flames.

“Exactly,” she agreed emphatically, then continued. “It’s not fair that the press is writing shit about about my personal life even though no one has talked to me for a second and they have no idea what they’re talking about. And I hate that it’s affecting me, my friends, my mom, my father’s career, not to mention Marsali and Joanie too! I just want to say my peace and hope some of them believe me.”

They could tell they were getting somewhere with Ainsley until they heard the sound of shoes shuffling across the carpet towards them.

“That’s not exactly how things work around here,” a strident voice warned.

“Hello, I’m Gerald Forbes. Director of Communications for the office of the First Minister. How nice to finally meet the two of you,” he grimaced, looking between mother and daughter. Brianna raised a hand for a shake, but was swiftly dismissed as he continued. “While you are the reason for this press conference, there is absolutely no way you will be allowed to go in there.”

“Mr. Forbes…” Brianna started, remaining pleasant despite his obvious rejection. “I just want to help.”

“If you won’t go back to America where you belong, then the best you can do to help is to just keep a low profile. Don’t you think you’ve done enough for the press? Showing up out of thin air right before the First Minister’s engagement announcement, fleeing that party on horseback, the photos of you doing drugs…”

All of a sudden, Claire felt as if she were about to go up in flames in response to his arrogance and disrespect but she held her tongue, knowing this man was likely important to Jamie’s work. She glanced at Murtagh who was already taking steps forward, a signal for Mr. Forbes to shut up before he was forced.

“I could go on, but I won’t,” he said, backing up a step.

“If I can’t speak to the press, can I at least write a statement that you can, like, release on official channels?”

“No we, like, can’t,” Forbes mocked the girl. “Imagine us putting out the words of an emotional American teen girl to the whole world?” Laughing, he turned to Ainsley for support.

The laugh was the final straw for Claire.

Standing up straight despite the pain in her ribs, she was taller than him. And she used that to her advantage. “Listen here, you blockhead. Pompous men like you have kept my daughter from what she deserves for far too long. If she can’t get into the press room, someone here will help her write her statement and then her father will decide whether or not it will be published. In the meantime, I’ll think about whether or not to share what just happened here with him.”

“Just a warning for ye: he’s a better father than he is a First Minister,” Murtagh added.

Unclear if it was in response to Murtagh or a clearly distressing notification received at the exact same moment, Forbes forfeited. “Ainsley, can you handle this? I don’t have the time, nor patience,” Forbes dialed his phone as he spoke, then stalked down the hallway with it against his ear.

Murtagh smugly watched as Mr. Forbes disappeared.

“Follow me,” Ainsley whispered, beckoning to the three of them. “I don’t know if this is the right thing to do, but I do know that I fucking hate that guy and honestly am so fucking sick of him telling women what to do.”

Bree’s smile broke open at Ainsley’s second use of the ‘f’ word, mostly because she could tell she didn’t use it often. “Queen shit,” Bree said, offering her a fistbump. Ainsley complied, but Bree could tell she didn’t do those often either.

“Thank you, Ainsley. We owe you,” Claire said as they followed her, making a mental note of the need to remind Jamie to give her a raise and extra holiday.

Ainsley anxiously knocked at the door to the green room. Mentally, she started preparing a long-winded explanation and apology to her boss for the appearance of his family. She expected he would come to understand why she had given in, and be just as easily persuaded by the women in his life. After waiting an appropriate amount of time, she shrugged her shoulders, and knocked again.

“Mr. Fraser?” She called out. Claire and Brianna followed with “Jamie” and “Da” respectively.

The lack of response could have many explanations, Ainsley thought logically. “He could be in the loo,” she offered to his family while beads of sweat began to gather at the crown of her head.

Trying to think logically themselves, they all considered Ainsley's reason.

Before anyone could offer any other explanation, they heard the lock click open. Which would have been fine, had it been followed by the door opening to reveal Jamie’s smiling (or frustrated) face. But it hadn’t. Instead, they found themselves staring at Geneva Dunsany’s, which was twisted into a smirk.

“Surprise!” she said, amused by their shocked silence. They each produced their own version of a frown, accompanied by confused brows.

“What? No one is chuffed to see me? Not even you, Ainsley? Oh come on now, I’m the one who recommended you for this job…”

“Leave Ainsley out of this,” Brianna said, stepping in front of her father’s assistant, who she knew had to be regretting helping them by now.

“Well, damn, I am chuffed to see you all. Making my life so much easier coming here, you are.”

“Where’s my Da?” Brianna asked impatiently.

“Where’s my Da,” Geneva mocked with a laugh. “Cleaning himself up after our afternoon delight, to be sure…” Geneva answered, briefly glancing toward the bathroom before locking eyes with Claire.

In fact, all eyes turned to Claire. Brianna felt the trust she had built with her father over the past week shift slightly in that moment. Her mother’s trust, however, was unwavering.

“Hilarious,” Claire scoffed at what she knew to be a blatant lie. “Where is he, really?”

“I think lanky, pale, brunettes just do it for him, Claire. I mean, look at me, I’m basically just the younger, tighter, version of you,” Geneva was goading her, everyone in the room knew it and, yet, there was still a question. Claire shook her head, silently answering them.

Unsatisfied with Claire’s response, Geneva continued. “He didn’t want to be unfaithful to you, not like he was unfaithful to Laoghaire, he only wanted some information from me and I… well I was pleased to give it to him…”

“No. Jamie would never touch you,” Claire said with a confident, yet seething tone. “Where. Is. He?”

“Wouldn’t he? For your family…?” Geneva asked, trying her best to get her to budge in her conviction. Claire didn’t flinch.

“Ugh fine… ruin my fun, Claire,” she rolled her eyes. “Your faith in each other is truly revolting, especially since it’s been the downfall of our plans thus far.”

“You’re mad.” Claire pointed out, though it was quite plain to see. Brianna crossed the room to where her mother stood, wanting to offer her comfort (and keep her from launching her still-bruised self at Geneva.) But as she locked their hands together, she realized she needed the anchor just as badly.

“Mrs. Dunsany, please, just… tell us where Mr. Fraser is,” Ainsley spoke up, in an attempt to get Geneva to see reason. “He has a really important press conference…”

“He’s with a good friend,” she answered coyly. “And as for the press conference… don’t worry, darling… the press will get exactly what they came here for. Not to mention, they’re a bit preoccupied with Laoghaire outside at the moment. We have some time to kill.”

“Ye’ll tell me where he is this instant, ye wicked wee bitch,” Murtagh spit as he spoke. Reaching his breaking point of just how much bullshit he could tolerate, he pinned the wretched woman against the wall in an effort to physically demand answers.

“Oh, Murtagh,” she slid her hands up and down the arms that had her boxed in against the wall. “How did you know I like it rough?” she whispered. “Did Dougal tell you?” Revolted at her insinuation, he involuntarily fell a step, then two, away from the wall. Once set free, she whistled with her fingers. A signal which had both the bathroom and entrance doors swinging open. Two armed men, dressed in suits, entered the green room.

One pointed their pistol at Murtagh’s head, while the other pointed theirs at Ainsley’s. “Get back, against the wall!”

They immediately submitted, forming a neat lineup. Geneva walked up to Brianna and pulled the wool gray bonnet from her head. Brianna could feel her curls frizzing and flying every which way thanks to the static, but didn’t dare move a muscle to fix it.

“For future reference… go for the redhead,” Geneva corrected, pushing the barrel of the man’s pistol away from Ainsley to aim for the space between Brianna’s eyes. Brianna shut them, forcing tears down each side of her nose.

Without a thought, Claire drove herself from the wall and blocked Brianna’s body with her own.

“Leave my daughter out of this. Geneva, please,” Claire pleaded.

“Ah-ah-ah,” Geneva warned. “No moving, Claire. Back to the wall. C’mon now, this isn’t her first time in front of a gun. Relax.”

Claire shuddered at the memory of Dougal pulling the trigger on her. She didn’t budge. “She had no idea about Dougal and Colum, or their threats. She didn’t know why I left all those years ago. If I had told her, maybe she wouldn’t have come. This is all my fault. Please.”

“Pathetic,” she scoffed under her breath. “Fine. Stay where you are,” she said, as if she was giving her a gift. “But no one can leave, Claire. Not until I get what I want.”

“What you want or what they want?”

Amused, Geneva smirked. “Both.”

Turning away from the wall, Geneva spoke low to the shorter of the two guards. “The girl’s loser boyfriend should be nearby. He couldn’t hurt a fly but have someone be on the lookout.”

Brianna’s heart sped up at the mention of Roger. She had forgotten he was waiting outside for them to return. Not wanting to give too much power over to her pseudo kidnappers, she stayed silent and prayed that he wouldn’t leave the car. Claire reached back to grab her daughter’s arm. She felt for her pulse. Finding it to be erratic, she squeezed her daughter’s palm in time with a regular heartbeat and if she could speak, Bree knew she would be saying “Take deep breaths, darling.”

She took quite a few deep breaths, and her mother’s grip relaxed.

Upon further inspection, both men looked familiar to Brianna. Glancing at Murtagh, then Ainsley, she could tell they recognized them too. They must be First Minister security, she guessed.

“There will be a happy ending to this story. Brianna, I hear you’re fond of those – grew up on them even? Tales of Alexander and Elizabeth?” She paused to stick her tongue out in disgust. “Well, I’m sorry to say that it’s time for that fairytale to come to an end. This is real life, honey.”

The look on face told her they weren’t getting out of the room without paying some sort of price.

Brianna clenched her jaw, as well as her mother’s fingers. “What do you want from me?”

“Ever since you’ve arrived here, everything has been out of sorts. We need to put everything back as it should be. I want you to tell the truth… well, my version of it anyway. That is… if you want your Da returned unharmed.”

“No one will believe it,” Claire says, feigning confidence.

“Yes, they will, Mama,” Brianna said, squeezing her mother’s hand one last time before letting it go. “I’ll do it.”

“That’s a good daddy's girl,” Geneva beamed.

A chill went down her spine at her use of "daddy," which immediately brought up images of her dead father. She briefly wondered if Geneva had done that on purpose, but then decided it didn't really matter.

Though she hadn’t signed her name in blood, Bree knew that she was making a deal with the devil.

Chapter Text

Jamie’s head lolled to one side as he gained consciousness. His first thought was to examine the pain in his head. That’s what Claire would do.

His brain signaled his hand to check for injury and blood, but no matter how hard he tried, he was unsuccessful.

Claire. He already knew he couldn’t physically reach for her, but he did try calling out for her. When couldn’t hear his own voice, panic warmed his blood.

He knew from his sisters’ observations that his skull was thick, but it had never felt quite so heavy.

Wherever he was, it was cold and he was alone.

Feeling his pulse quicken, he found himself thankful for proof that his organs were still functioning. As his vision creeped back to him, he noticed his wrists laying limp in his lap. It was the sight of the leather wristwatch full of roman numerals wrapped around his right that inspired a small smile to gather at the corner of his mouth. A gift from John Grey was never without purpose. Before he could let out a breath of relief, he was startled by a distant sound.

Not a sound, a voice. Getting closer, he presumed. He caught a quick glimpse of his own boots as footsteps approached the door he now noticed was facing him. If he could see his toes, he would see them finally answering the call from his brain. They wiggled somewhere beneath the leather and wool.

He let his head fall forward completely before the knob could fully turn. With his eyes closed, Jamie deduced that the man was either having a one-sided conversation or speaking to someone else on a phone call. While the actual words were not yet registering, he did somehow recognize the Irish brogue. He had never put such effort into listening, let alone hearing, before.

Stephen Bonnet. Awareness clicked for him suddenly and sent his now fully conscious thoughts spiraling. Memories of his kidnapping, drugging, and subsequent hostage scenario were blurry at best. Ifrinn! He cursed to himself as he thought of Claire and Brianna as vulnerable without him. Though his mind screamed at him to do something – to get to them – he remained silent and still with his eyes closed. He pushed away his impulses and listened closely as Stephen Bonnet conveyed a confident report to whoever was on the other line.

The room fell quiet, and Jamie swore he could hear the ticking of his watch over the beat of his own heart. “It’s almost over, sir,” Bonnet said flippantly. Jamie fought the urge to retort at his use of the respectful term.

“I might just be Scotland’s hero at the end of this, just you wait. You won’t be responsible for that American brat or anything else besides governing and helping your uncles out. You can even marry blondie if you like. We all win.” He crouched down beside Jamie and poked at his dangling skull before adding, “Those bitches are fucking insane but God if they aren’t genius.”

Jamie kept his breathing as even as possible, and allowed his head to move with Bonnet’s prodding. Bide yer time, lad, he heard his godfather’s voice in his mind. No use starting a stramash when ye can barely wiggle yer toes.

He couldn’t begin to explain how it felt to have every fiber in his being disagree with sound logic. He felt his eyes twitch when Bonnet stood back up. Jamie expected him to leave. Hoped that he would so that he could have the opportunity to evaluate his surroundings. Instead, he began a monologue.

“Your bitch of a daughter is quite attractive though, I’ll give her that,” he laughed. “She needs a man now, a husband… not a father.”

Jamie’s muscles twitched at his mention of Brianna and the anticipation of any helpful information the eejit might give away. Between his footsteps and waves of body heat, Jamie could sense Bonnet pacing as he arrogantly spoke to his hunched over form.

“Perfect tits. God, she looked so fucking hot in that dress at that party. I had to summon every ounce of self control in my body to not drag her from the crowd and upstairs with me.”

It took every ounce of control in Jamie’s body to remain still. He forced his lungs to take in air quietly and slowly, in time with Bonnet’s steps. By the fourth or fifth breath, he had made up his mind and offered a silent apology to the Murtagh he had previously conjured. He counted each step towards him, then each step in the other direction. When Bonnet was at the furthest he would likely get from him, Jamie cracked his eyes open into slits. It was clear that Bonnet thought he was completely safe, turning his back on his captive.

Jamie had no idea what his muscles were capable of, save twitching and wiggling, but he did know he wasn’t able to simply listen to a man talk of his daughter in such a way as he helplessly waited for rescue that may never come.

“If only I had known Geneva had locked her in that fucking closet, I could have had my way with her then…”

Jamie heard his own voice out loud for the first time since waking when he let out a gravelly shout, perhaps more aptly described as a growl. It was a sound that stopped Bonnet in his tracks. Which gave Jamie a few more seconds to win his fight against gravity. They were both shocked when he stood up without falling over.

When sense returned to him, Bonnet reached for something Jamie assumed was a weapon. He didn’t wait to find out. Instead, he charged headfirst, clumsily using the dead weight of his body to slam Bonnet into the wall adjacent to the door.

“If ye even think of my daughter again, I will fucking kill you.”

Jamie felt all the heat from his earlier panic surge through his hands which clamped down around Bonnet’s neck. He wouldn’t release his hold for anything. Not even the explicit sound of gunshots at the door. Though it appeared Bonnet’s fear released some.

“Oh, bugger. You couldn’t leave the rescue to me just this once?”

Jamie could feel Bonnet tensing and struggling beneath his fingers. It definitely wasn’t who he was expecting.

“Finally! Did ye stop fer a wee bit o’ haggis on yer way over? A dram mebbe?” Jamie joked, trying to ease his own tension.

“Ha, Ha. Very funny,” John said, walking over with his pistol raised and pointed at Bonnet. “I’m going to ask him to let go of you, but if you so much as fidget, I will shoot you like I did all your chaps outside.”

John handed his cuffs off to Jamie once he let his captor go, then raised his eyebrows and nodded as a directive. Once Bonnet was safely cuffed and gagged, Jamie finally spoke to his friend again.

“What the fuck is going on?” Jamie asked, and John wasn’t sure where to start.

“I was worried for you when I saw Brianna giving the press conference in your stead. I knew you would never allow that. So I tracked your watch to this location. I’m not one to gloat, or say I told you so, but all I had to do was click a button to find you.”
Jamie rolled his eyes, but didn’t take the bait to lean into their usual banter. Not when there was still a question lingering… “Are they okay, John?”

“I’m not sure. I came here first. I’m afraid this runs deeper than either of us expected.”

“Why did ye no’ go to them?” He nearly fell over as he used too much of his strength to convey his ire.

“At least I had proof of life for them. It was you who could have been without a pulse, you ungrateful bastard.”

“I’m sorry, John. I just… I canna lose them again.”

John nodded, knowing his friend would not survive such a fate.

Jamie took a few shaky steps on his own before John grabbed him by the wrist. “Put your arm around me, you stubborn man. Let me help you.”

“Aye,” Jamie said, reluctantly obeying his orders. “Have I thanked ye, John?”

John smiled timidly. “Don’t thank me yet… it’s possible Scotland’s institutions are crumbling to the ground around us.”

They ignored the chaos erupting in the hall as officers made arrests of each accomplice. As they climbed the stairs to the way out, the First Minister thought of that very possible societal collapse and found he didn’t care as much as he should.

Chapter Text

Roger tapped his fingers on Caitriona’s wheel with one hand and unlocked his phone with the other. If he couldn’t see the press conference in real life, at least he could stream it. He had a feeling it would be something Scotland would be talking about for years to come. 

On his way to the First Minister’s page to check for the scheduled start time, he scrolled his feed briefly, only stopping his thumb at a news station’s live video featuring a familiar, albeit unfriendly, face. He clicked the video’s sound on. 

“It’s all very sad,” Laoghaire said, wiping her eyes. “I want ye all to ken that I dinna blame any of this on Brianna. In fact, up until th’ night o’ her party, she was so lovely to me and my girls. I loved getting to ken her. That is, until it became clear that her mother poisoned her.”

“Fucking hell,” Roger recoiled at the sound of her lies, but his eyes never left the screen until he took notice of the brick and half moon windows behind her. He glanced up at the building in front of him to compare the architecture. 

The lying besom is right around the corner, he concluded to himself.

“Why are you talking to the press now, right before the First Minister is set to give his own conference?” asked an offscreen reporter.

“I think th’ better question is: Why now, after nearly 20 years, did Claire Randall decide to tell th’ First Minister about his own daughter?” 

At the bottom of the screen, Roger could see quite a few microphones pointed in Laoghaire’s direction.

“I’m no’ sure,” she continued, answering her own question. “All I ken for certain is that Claire broke my Jamie’s heart, leaving him for another man. That man ended up divorcing her, then died. And now she’s here. Mebbe it’s just that she was bored wi’ her American Dream, saw that Jamie had become First Minister of Scotland, and then started plotting…”

“Started plotting what exactly, Lady MacKenzie?” asked a brash reporter.

“How to steal my life,” Laoghaire sobbed. “She wanted nothing to do wi’ him when he had no money, no direction in life, and no power…”

“Isn’t she recovering from a car accident? Was that part of her plan to steal your life?” another reporter asked sarcastically, which allowed Roger to release his breath. Finally, someone who saw reason!

Not missing a beat, Laoghaire responded, “I believe she may have set that whole thing up to garner sympathy from my Jamie, as well as the Scottish public. Did you know that she’s being sued for malpractice for the wrongful death of a Scottish patient?” 

“That’s it!” Roger said out loud, then ejected himself out of Murtagh’s car like a man with a plan. Locking Caitriona twice, Roger walked around to the front of the building. By the time he was standing on the kerb, close enough to hear her address the crowd in real life, he realized he had no plan at all.

On his tip-toes, he could see the top of Laoghaire’s head. “That woman is lying out her arse,” Roger shouted from the depths of his chest. Only a few other heads turned in acknowledgement of his outburst. 

“I think you’ll all see very soon that I am right,” Laoghaire said in response, locking eyes with Roger as a door opened behind her. Then the crowd’s attention properly shifted. 

“We’re now allowing press inside,” said an authoritative woman in a pencil skirt. 

As the press moved towards the building in a mad dash, Roger backed away. Wanting to avoid any further interaction with Laoghaire, he nearly sprinted back to Murtagh’s car. 

When situated in the driver’s seat, he pulled out his phone again. This time it wasn’t Laoghaire’s talking head pasted all over his feed. However, it wasn’t the First Minister’s either. 

Roger wasn’t surprised that Brianna had somehow convinced the team she should speak directly to the press. She had a way about her… She was honest, kind, persistent, and most of all: stubborn. 

But he did wonder why she would be up there without her father. Why would he let her be fed to the wolves with no backup? 

“Hello,” She said, then adjusted the mic when there was feedback. “My name is Brianna. Brianna Randall. Most of you have probably seen my picture somewhere by now. Some of you may have even formed strong opinions about me,” she forced an innocent smile and tucked her hair behind her ears. “Regardless, I hope you will listen to what I have to say today.”

She looked down at the podium in front of her and spoke in a quiet, controlled tone that Roger had never heard from her before. “I think there’s one thing many of us can agree on: I don’t belong here.”

“Wait, what?” Roger asked aloud, then turned up the volume on his phone. 

“No matter how much I love tea and haggis,” she said, looking directly into the camera for the first time. It was clearly meant to be a lighthearted joke, but Roger’s eyebrows furrowed in genuine confusion.  In what world does Miss “I’ll have Black Coffee or Death” love Tea?! And had she ever even tasted a bite of haggis? 

“I could never see myself staying here in Scotland,” she continued, almost scoffing at the idea. 

“Well that’s just a blatant lie, lass. We just had this conversation the other —” Oh. 

This isn’t Brianna. 

“I came here on some romantic notion… chasing a fairytale. Now I know the truth…” She started her next sentence with a grimace, stuttered, took a breath, and then paused before continuing. “I was wrong.” 

“I’ve really enjoyed my time getting to know the Fraser family, but it’s time for me to be honest with you all… The First Minister is not my dad.”A gasp waved through the crowd, but it didn’t stop her.

“A man called Frank Randall was my father. He died before my sixteenth birthday and it broke my heart. Shortly after, I found a box of my mom’s old photos from when she lived in Scotland as a young woman. She dated Jamie Fraser back then, before he was First Minister and before he met his true soulmate, Laoghaire Mackenzie,” she winced slightly, then started speaking more quickly to cover it up. “I saw a photo of them together — saw that we both had red hair, and I guess my sad brain made up a crazy story to keep me from accepting my reality…That my dad was dead.” 

Brianna’s voice shook with every word she spoke. If he could see her hands, he would see that they were shaking too. Don’t you see what’s going on? He wanted to scream at the press through the phone. Her body is bloody rejecting the words she’s saying. 

“When I turned 18, I decided to run away and I lied my way into the Fraser family. There’s nothing more to it, not that I feel qualified to talk about anyway. If you want answers about all the mob stuff — which has nothing to do with me or my mom —  you’ll have to speak with the authorities… or the First Minister himself. I am told he will be made available as soon as I finish this speech.”

“What the hell are you doing, Bree?!” Roger cried out in confusion.

She paused to glance through an open door to her right, but Roger couldn’t see if she was making contact with anyone. Whatever she saw, urged her on.

“Finally, I want to apologize to a few people. First, to my mom, I’m so sorry I ran away. You were right all along. Nothing is more important than keeping the people you love safe. Next, to Marsali and Joan, I’m truly sorry for disrupting your lives. It’s obvious how much Jamie loves the two of you and you both deserve that love."

Her jaw tensed then, and to Roger, she had never looked more like Jamie Fraser.

“I also wanted to apologize for anything negative said about their mom, or their Aunt Geneva, in the press or online. I know what that’s like and it feels awful.

“And finally, to all of you: I ask that you remember that I am just a girl who is grieving,” she looked down at the papers again. “All I want is to go back home to America and forget any of this ever happened. I hope you will allow me and my mom the privacy we need to heal.”

“One last thing,” she gulped, seemingly going off-script as she looked directly into the camera for only the second time since taking the stage. “Scotland, you are very lucky to have Jamie Fraser. I hope you know that.”

After a quiet “Thank you,” followed by a moment to punctuate her speech, every hand in the bottom of the frame shot up to signal requests for follow-up questions. Roger heard some of the words being thrown at her, mostly her own name, but it was pure chaos. Bree’s gaze was unfocused. Before any tears could fall, she turned from the crowd and ran out of the room. 

When she disappeared from the screen, a dreadful feeling settled in Roger's gut. 

He had no idea what to do about it. Should he stay put? Should he try to go inside? Should he call someone? But who would he call? It’s not like he had a detective on speed dial like the First Minister. 

He opened his phone anyway, scrolled through his contacts to Bree’s name, and  then shook his head at the daft idea. His thumb hovered over the call button until his indecision was interrupted by a knock on the passenger window.

Roger tossed his phone into the cup holder. There was no need to call someone who was right in front of you.

“We’re going to the airport,” she started once the window was cracked. He could tell she had been crying and had somehow forced herself to stop. “Do you want to come with us? Or you can go home,” she said, offering him an out. “They promised you’ll be safe as long as you sign an NDA.”

He looked over her shoulder, then out the front windshield, considering his options. Both paths seemingly involved the four terrifyingly large men he now realized were surrounding them, but only one path involved Brianna. 

Upon closer inspection, he saw that Claire and Murtagh were apprehended just kilometers away with their arms pulled tight behind their backs. He had so many questions to ask, but for some reason the entire operation was waiting on his response. 

“I go where you go,” he said, decidedly. 

“I think they have a big white van with no windows somewhere waiting for us,” she added as her way of asking, “Are you sure?”

“As long as we’re moving, I’m quite tired of sitting still.” 

“You do love me, don’t you?”

“Guilty,” he quipped, and he was grateful to see that it was still possible to light her up, even dimly. 

“May I ask, where are we flying?” 

She crossed in front of the hood to the driver’s side, then waited for him to be fully out of the car before answering. “Well, as long as this isn’t an elaborate ruse to lead us willingly to our deaths… we’re going to Boston.” 

He was about to make light of the situation and tell her that he had always wanted to go to Boston for the historical significance of the American Revolution, but Bree’s attention was caught elsewhere. 

“Put the goddamn guns away,” Claire ordered. “She did the press conference. We’re not going to fight. Don’t make this worse than it already is.”

Three of the men turned their heads to the one who must be their leader. He nodded to them, and they indirectly followed her orders.   

With the guns away, Roger felt safe enough to finally ask, “What the hell happened in there, Bree?”

“I did what I had to do. I promised I would leave Scotland for good. To save Da. That was the only way Geneva would let him go.” 

Roger opened his mouth to follow up with more questions, but Bree was already turned and walking away from him, expecting him to follow. 

“Alright, we’re ready,” Claire said to the one who had nodded the guns away. Without further conversation, large hands grabbed and shoved at each of them lightly to direct them towards the carpark.

“Wait!” Bree said, shoving backwards and turning back to look at Murtagh, who had been following behind with his assigned goon. “Wait!” She repeated, shoving with more force.

Claire was the first to stop in her tracks, but the others weren’t far behind.

“He’s staying here!” She said, pointing to Murtagh. Then she addressed him directly. “You promised me that if Roger agreed to come with us that you would stay to make sure Da is alright.”

“Weel I ne’er imagined the wee numpty would agree to it,” he admitted, regretful.

“You promised! Don’t you dare break it! He needs you.”

“I canna stay. Your father would never forgive me. It’s bad enough I walked ye right into the devil’s trap.”

“I’ve had enough of this family’s drama to last ten lifetimes,” the leader suddenly bellowed before Bree could give a final impassioned retort.

Roger watched in what felt like slow-motion as he pulled his gun out from its holster. “New plan. How about we escort the women home and, boys, you can stay here and explain to the First Minister how badly you fucked up.” 

With all four guns back in play, they didn’t see they had a choice in the matter any longer. 

As Claire and Bree were steered down the street and away from Bute house, they clasped hands. Bree held her gaze steady, refusing to look back, or even over at her mother. 

Suddenly, Claire thought of something she needed to say and found herself calling out to Roger and Murtagh over her shoulder.

“I’ll take care of her,” she promised. “Tell Jamie.” 

Murtagh pulled a tight smile out of thin air and nodded, feeling proud.  “Ye always have,” he shouted. 

“No, Mama,” Bree spoke softly. “We’ll take care of each other.” 

Chapter Text

Jenny Murray found herself with a crying babe on her hip as she shouted Gaelic curses at her television. A woman she herself had summoned into her brother’s life was spewing lies to anyone who would listen. And all of the local news channels were listening.

She shook with anger and tried to use the unsteadiness to rock her son back to calm. Her attempts were futile as the damage had been done. The baby could not be fooled. His wee face was just as red as hers was.

She had to do something. Aside from feeling slightly responsible for Laoghaire, Jenny was just not one to stand on the sidelines while her family suffered. Which was precisely why her husband came up from behind her, and wordlessly stole his namesake away.

“Shhh,” Ian whispered to their son. At first he seemed confused by the sudden loss of connection with his mother, but just as quickly became thrilled to be in the arms of his Da. Another pang of guilt came as she realized just how her emotions were affecting her baby. Though not an ounce of judgment showed on her husband’s face.

“Go on, mo chridhe,” he nodded to her, knowing that she wouldn’t forgive herself if she were to stay put.

“I’ve already cut carrots and onions for a stew,” she responded, sparing a glance to the fridge and the rest of her responsibilities. Her thoughts were interrupted by a kiss on the cheek. One meant to be a goodbye.

“Jamie deserves to be as happy as we are,” he said with certainty.

“Thank ye, mo ghraidh.” She smiled at her husband and son gratefully, feeling her anger subside just a bit. But knew the drive and having time alone with her thoughts would be sure to bring it all back.

The first thing she heard as she approached her brother’s place of work was Murtagh’s voice.

“Turn around, Jenny!” he said. “Go home to yer bairns, now!”

Murtagh continued yelling at her as she ran up to the rear entrance of Bute House in defiance.

“What are ye thinking, coming here?” He sighed. A sigh he reserved to react to the Fraser siblings.

Her niece’s boyfriend and two large men she recognized as First Minister security stood beside him. His guards weren’t typically talkative, but they would usually offer pleasantries to the family. This time, she got nothing.

“Did ye see the press conference then?” Roger asked, fixing his posture from a hunched position.
“Laoghaire’s shite show, do ye mean?” She responded with a roll of her eyes. “Where is the lavvy heid?”

“Likely inside scheming wi’ the Devil,” Roger offered. Then clarified, “Geneva, I mean.”

“Ye didnae see Brianna’s speech?” Murtagh asked.

“No,” she shook her head. “What speech?”
Murtagh sighed, then glanced over his shoulder at the guards before speaking. He seemed to be pleased to find that both of them were distracted with their phones.

“I dinna ken where tae start, a nighean. I wish ye would’ve stayed at Lallybroch,” he whispered.

“I came to help,” she said, moving closer to the door. “I need to talk to my brother. See what can be done about Laoghaire.”

“He’s no here –” Murtagh started to explain, but was quickly cut off by one of the guards.

“Where do ye think ye’re going?” he shouted, then pulled brutally at her arm to keep her from entering the building.

“Leave her be!” Murtagh ordered with a solid kick to the man’s bollocks, before being seized from behind himself.

While the two men were occupied with their respective fighting Frasers, Roger felt called to intervene somehow. He quickly evaluated his surroundings for anything approaching a weapon.

There wasn’t a stick, nor stone in sight.

Fucking useless, he muttered to himself as his eyes fell on the gun hanging from the Jenny’s captor’s waist holster. Before he could attempt a brave reach out for it, the Devil herself appeared at the doorway.

“Enough!” Geneva ordered. Murtatgh and Jenny hesitated, but ultimately stopped their efforts when both men released them and took steps back. “Oh, how nice of you to join us today, Janet. You’ve missed the show, I’m afraid.”

“Piss off,” Jenny hissed. “Why are ye getting yerself involved wi’ all this, Geneva? Ye ken Laoghaire is off her heid. He will never love her.”

“It’s about more than Laoghaire. It’s about my own happiness, and his, and his,” she pointed to each of the guards turned goons. “It’s about what your uncles sacrificed so much to build. It’s about power, darling.”

“She had yer brother kidnapped so that she could scare Brianna into going back to America,” Roger offered the explanation that Murtagh had been holding back. “The only way she would let him go, is if Brianna agreed to leave for good and told everyone that she lied – that she isn’t really a Fraser.”
Jenny looked to Murtagh for confirmation, then allowed the horror to take over the anger in her blood.

“What is it you all say? Dinna…fash? He’ll be just fine,” Geneva promised. “Brianna chose to leave, her mother is too traumatized to let her go anywhere alone, and the First Minister of Scotland can’t be anywhere else. Not to mention the field day the press is having – he’ll have no choice but to play along with whatever crisis PR plan the team comes up with. It was the only way to put everything right.”

“And I thought Laoghaire was the crazy one,” Jenny laughed. “Ye really thought this would work?”

“I think you don’t know how the mob works. You don’t get a choice. You do what they want, or you pay the price. Claire knows this. Now Brianna does. I can see that he cares for them, but there’s no way he will walk away from his responsibilities to Scotland for them. He’s an honorable man, and he’s duty bound.”

“Ye did all of this and…you really don’t know my brother at all,” Jenny said through her salty tears and ironic laughter. “You fucking…” She couldn’t think of a single suitable word to describe her, in either of her tongues. “The only reason Jamie let himself become duty-bound to Scotland was because he truly believed in his heart that Claire no longer wanted to be with him.”

“Well, just between us, I think she’s ready to cut her losses for good this time. The sex cannot be worth all of this…” She waved her arms to imitate chaos.

“He’ll see ye dead with his own two hands,” Murtagh seethed.

“I think we’re forgetting who’s in charge here,” Geneva scoffed, pretentiously. “I’ve had enough. Tape their bloody mouths shut if you have to. You can take the boy home like we promised the twat,” she ordered. “I don’t care what you do with the other two.”

Neither of the guards made a move to follow the orders, which made Jenny wonder if they had finally seen enough of Geneva’s madness to realize they had aligned themselves with the wrong side.

Murtagh used their hesitation as an opening, channeling all of the adrenaline and anger he had been quietly saving. It was an opportune moment to take at least one of the men down to the ground. Jenny watched in awe as he did just that. When the other guard went to help his friend, she put her pointed toes to work in kicking every visible and accessible body part.

“Come on then, Roger,” she called out to the man whose first instinct was very clearly flight. She knew it wasn’t anywhere near a fair fight, but she gave it her all. Only her brother’s voice was powerful enough to pull her out of the violent trance.

She nearly gave herself whiplash at the unmistakable sound, which somehow stood out to her among dozens of calls for “Hands up!”

Chapter Text

“Take yer filthy traitorous hands off of my family,” the First Minister clamored, pistol in hand.

He watched Jenny scan the crowd of loaded guns ranging dramatically in size – many she would never dream of picking up herself. She spotted John first, then found Jamie safe at his side.

Somewhere behind Jenny, Geneva began wailing. “Help! Stop them! Please!” She cried before falling to the ground. “Thank God you’ve finally arrived!”

John nodded directive to apprehend the men standing around dumbfounded. They never even reached for their own guns.

“You can quit the pitiful act,” John addressed her with a professional tone.

An officer approached slowly behind Geneva’s stage, clearly waiting for the go-ahead from John. Both he and Jamie nodded enthusiastically.

“Are you sure you want to do this? One word from me, and the whole world will know the things Jamie Fraser did to me when he showed up at my door uninvited.” She was scrambling, but spoke loud and confidently. “I know Claire was gutted to hear all about it.”

Jamie ignored her to the best of his ability, instead turning to inspect who he found at Bute House. He looked over his godfather, sister and finally, Roger, to be sure they were at least breathing. “Are ye alright?” He asked his sister gently, but barely waited for her affirmative answer before speaking again, “Where are Claire and Brianna?”

“They’re gone, James,” Geneva said succinctly. “They’re tired of all of this. Who could blame them?”

He hesitated in taking the bait.

But he did take it. And as panicked concern flooded his body, he knew it showed plainly on his face. She laughed at the sight. She had her wrists in cuffs, but was somehow acting as if she still had the upper hand. It was infuriating to witness.

She would play this game forever if he allowed it.

Jenny tried to speak up to explain what Geneva had meant, but Jamie raised his hand in a plea to let him make a move first.

“Geneva, I’d like to introduce ye to my good friend Detective John Grey of the National Crime Agency. He was the one to find me tied up in the basement. Every single person involved in holding me there has agreed to talk in exchange for some mercy. Detective Grey is going to make it his personal mission to see that you, Laoghaire, my wretched Uncles, and anyone who lifted a wee pinkie finger to help ye will pay. I promise you that.”

He took two Geneva-sized strides forward to get close enough to whisper in her ear. “Ye should be verra grateful that I am a man with a conscience.”

She pulled stubbornly at her wrists in response.

“Freedom is nowhere in your immediate future, Miss Dusany,” John affirmed, as Jamie retreated. “We’ll walk you through the next steps once we've brought you all in.”

Watching her face spoil like bad milk, Jamie allowed himself a vindictive smile as he recognized the moment for what it was.

“It’s in your best interest to assist in our case against the MacKenzies,” Jamie heard John speak in his periphery, carefully listing out all of the charges that have been brought against her. He then ordered all of the officers not already holding someone in custody to get the situation in Bute House under control. In their brief discussion in the car ride over from where he was being held captive, they decided that the only way forward would be to investigate every individual on the First Minister’s staff. With Geneva detained to his discretion, John disappeared inside to ensure all else was going to plan.

“Claire and Brianna are flying back to Boston,” Roger clarified Geneva’s earlier statement.

“They should be arriving at the airport any minute now,” Murtagh assessed, looking at his watch. “She sent them away with two more of yer faithless guards.”

“Can I borrow a phone?” Jamie asked hastily.

Roger solemnly shook his head in reply. “They dinna have their phones either.”

“We’d be willing to help ye contact them,” one of the men offered as the cuff clicked on his wrists. “If ye show us some mercy,” the other finished the thought. Jamie recognized both of them. Rupert and Angus had been on his security detail for a while.

While Jamie felt desperate for any help, he didn’t want to make any more mistakes in giving out even crumbs of his trust.

“It seemed like they were in a rush when they left,” Roger added, contributing to the pressure in Jamie’s judgment.

Jamie sighed deeply. Angus and Rupert were his best chance at reaching them quickly.

“Ye will help us get in contact with the bastards who took my wife and daughter, help me ensure they are safe, and then we’ll talk about mercy.”

“Ye have my word. My phone is in my right pocket,” Angus directed with his constricted wrists. Jamie was about to grab for it himself when he heard a stramash coming from somewhere inside. His first thought was a selfish one: What now?

“Is he out there? I can help him!” he suddenly heard his assistant cry.

“Ainsley?” He called out to her in question.

“Mr. Fraser!” It was the loudest Ainsley’s voice had gotten in all the time she worked for him.

“She’s been with us this whole time. She’s on yer side, lad,” Murtagh confirmed what Jamie hoped to be true.

“I want to speak to her!” Jamie barked at the officers holding her back.

The guards escorted her outside to meet him. “I can trust ye, aye?”

He had never seen her so out of sorts, but she nodded with enthusiasm.

“Geneva had me purchase their plane tickets," Ainsley offered her information quickly. "They should be on a plane within the hour, but there’s an extra ticket. I got one for Roger. I can transfer it and you can use it! If you leave now, you can stop them from getting on the plane!”

“No, I canna do that. It’s no’ safe here for them.”

“Well, then, ye can go wi’ them to Boston, ye dafty!” Jenny added, placing a hand on his shoulder in full support of the idea.

“No," he said definitively, taking a step away from his sister. "I need to address the nation. Ainsley, will you set that up while I make sure they’ve arrived at the airport safely?”

AInsley had never second guessed or questioned a decision of his before, but he could tell that she wanted to at this moment. But after a moment of hesitation, she accepted the order and went off to work as if she was running out of time.

“What are ye doin?! Ye canna let them go – no’ again.”

“Trust me, Janet. I ken what I have to do,” he said in a tone that told her there was no discussion left to be had. He was dehydrated, exhausted, and heartbroken, but he was also sure of his next steps.

Chapter Text

“Where Scotland meets the world,” Bree mumbled as she took in the approaching airport and the clear blue sky. Slick with sweat, her forehead stuck to the car window a bit as she pulled away.

“Hmm?” Her mother asked, squeezing her daughter’s hand in conjunction. Bree shook her head. “Nothing,” she offered, in lieu of repeating herself. They had spent most of the ride over in complete silence – each quietly flipping through pages of shock, anger, and disappointment in search of acceptance.

“What’s your plan when we get there?” Claire shouted to their captor over the speaker blasting some foreign version of rock music. “Hold a gun to our backs as we walk through security?”

“Nah, lass. No need for weapons,” he paused to smile in the rearview mirror. “But I will be accompanying you to yer gate, to be sure. And on to Boston if need be. I’ve my own ticket. Window seat, even. And if you scream or let on to anyone that yer there against yer will – I’ll just make one phone call to the boss and all of this would be fer nothing.”

“We’ll need to stop for some sort of disguise,” Claire responded, matter-of-fact. She was doing her best to take control of the situation – the only way she knew to keep from screaming. 

“My stupid face is probably all over the news,” Bree added in a huff. 

“I think ye mebbe overestimate yer importance… but aye, we’ll get ye some souvenirs of yer wee trip to be sure.” He added that last bit with a sickening gaze that made Claire flip back to rage. 

“I don’t need a souvenir,” Bree spoke with utter clarity. “No one, not you or Geneva, not the Scottish Mob or the Queen of England, can take the experience of meeting my father from me.”

Pride, and something wholly heartbreaking, arose in Claire’s shining blue eyes as she brushed shaking fingers through the bright ends of her daughter’s hair. No, there was no forgetting Jamie Fraser.

“Cute,” he muttered, setting the van into park. “We’re here. Let’s get you back where ye belong.” 

They walked through the car park, then through lines of people, like zombies – every sense frayed.

Claire wasn’t sure if it was recognition or concern that garnered the few lingering stares. Regardless, they made it through security without making a scene and Claire used that as reasoning for them to finally be freed of the brute’s presence. 

“We can take it from here,” she spoke up as the man pulled his second shoe back on after being forced to go through a secondary screening. Serves him right, Claire thought. “We waited for you here without screaming bloody murder. We’re not going to run.”

He glared at her with suspicion, but he seemed to be considering the proposition. “And what’s to stop ye from calling fer help the second I leave ye?” 

“With what phone?” Bree chipped in.

“I’m not a eejit, ye can ask to borrow a phone. Nae, I think I’ll see this through. Yer flight is soon enough.”

Claire nodded, stuffing the feeling of defeat down deep. “Let’s go then,” she said. He led them to a small shop stocked with a ridiculous amount of Edinburgh-embroidered merchandise. Claire picked out a couple hats while Bree picked at her nail beds. 

Once the brute forked over cash for the so-called souvenirs, Claire and Bree pulled them onto their heads. Bree giggled at the sight of her mom.

“What?” Claire asked, looking around, shocked to hear such a noise from her.“Nothing, I was just thinking about how Daddy might’ve reacted to seeing you in a baseball cap.”

Claire smiled at the thought. “He would’ve been so mad that I didn’t take you to any historical sites,” she added. 

“I think the castle where they hosted my party was technically a historical site. And Bute House is pretty important.”

Claire sighed deeply, both places representing wildly different, but equally as traumatic events. 

“I don’t regret coming here,” Bree said, her voice coming out softer than she intended.

“I know you don’t,” Claire responded, just as soft. 

“Alright, let’s get to the gate,” the man instructed, vaguely gesturing in the direction the signs were pointing.

Claire and Bree sat knee to knee, which made them both aware of just how restless the other was. What could only have been twenty minutes felt like days to the overtired women. Bree’s head lolled from side to side just a few times before Claire guided it to rest gently on her shoulder, only for her to lift it again minutes later. Rest was futile. 

“There’s a television over there,” Claire whispered to her daughter the second she took notice of it. “I think the news is on,” she added with a nudge. Without her glasses, she couldn’t see much more than what appeared to be the blurry forms of talking heads. She thought Bree’s 20/20 vision (certainly inherited from her hawk-eyed father) would come in handy. From the way Bree’s spine went rigid at whatever she was seeing, Claire knew it had. 

“It’s a long flight, do you think we can get some snacks?” Bree asked the man who wasn’t far from sleep himself. 

“Huh?” He asked. 

“Snacks. Could you get us some? I’m starving. I don’t think Geneva ordered you to let us starve, did she?” Bree responded with reinvigorated spunk.

“Sure, whatever. I’ll be right over there.” He pointed to the nearest concession stand. 

“Anything chocolate is good,” Bree yelled at the man who waved her off. 

“What did you see?” Claire asked. 

“Da!” She half whispered, half shrieked. “There’s no captions but I can read the bit of text at the bottom of the screen. They’ve just announced he’s going to address the nation.” 

“He’s okay,” Claire exhaled, letting the air touch the frayed edges of her soul. 

“Either he’s okay or they’re about to pull a Weekend at Bernie’s operation,” she joked with tears in her eyes. 

“He’s okay,” Claire repeated, to convince herself. 

Bree squinted at the television again to read the updated lower-third. “It says they arrested MP Dunsany’s Wife.” 

“What?” Claire asked, shocked. 

Bree was a stoked flame. “Should we run?” she asked, knowing they only had seconds to decide what to do. 

Claire stood without responding, without really thinking, but before she could make a move in any direction, she saw Geneva’s accomplice approaching. He had a chocolate bar wrapped in purple paper in one hand, and his phone held up to his ear the other.

They overheard the ending of the conversation in which he accepted orders in a polite tone they hadn’t yet heard. “Thank you again, sir,” he said.

“What’s going on?” Claire asked, shifting herself closer to the chairs. Sir? “Who was that?”

“That was the First Minister himself.” 

Disbelief was her instinct, but coupled with the information they’d just gathered from the news, Claire and Bree simultaneously flipped to an entirely different page – one full of hope. 

“What? Why would he – What did he say?” 

“He asked me to make sure that you board your flight home safely.”

Claire shook her head. Acceptance was just as far out of reach as it ever was. She stumbled through her words. “What – what exactly did he say?”

“Well, he threatened me within an inch of my life to start. He said Geneva’s been arrested and that if any harm should come to either of ye, I’d… I’d be begging fer life in a cell. He said to – well, he said to do what I was sent here to do. Make sure the both of you get on yer flight to Boston safely.”

“He wants us to leave?” Bree asked, looking from the shaken man to her mother who was shrugging helplessly. “But I…We…” 

“If we’re not prisoners anymore, then let me borrow your phone,” Claire bargained. 

“Ma’am,” he started, testing out a respectful tone. 

She glared at him. 

“If I’m not your prisoner, give me your phone,” she reiterated with more force.

“Okay, sure, you can try… but he hung up quickly and he used my colleague’s phone to call.” 

“First Minister apologizes for Bute House madness,” Bree read off the far-away screen incredulously. “Does he want us to go back to Boston and pretend like nothing ever happened? Do you think he saw my speech and believed it? I didn’t mean it! Murtagh had to have told him what happened…”

“I don’t know,” Claire admitted, exhausted by her thoughts spinning out, much like Bree’s words.

“This doesn’t feel right to me,” Bree spoke over an announcement.

“No,” Claire confirmed, wiping at a tear with her sleeve. 

“That was the call for your flight. It’s time tae board,” the man urged, careful not to touch either woman. 

Claire and Bree stood frozen, staring at each other. Deciding. 

“We’re not getting on that plane,” Bree said, solidly.

“Yes you are. Please. I dinna want any more trouble with the First Minister. I only took the job with his uncles in the first place to help pay fer my wife’s medical bills. She’s got cancer treatments. She needs me. I canna go to prison.”

Both Claire and Bree held their tongues, thinking similarly and grasping for unearned empathy.

“Mr. Fraser was very clear on what he wanted to happen now…” He gestured vaguely to the line forming by the gate. 

“What’s your name? You never mentioned while we were swept up in the kidnapping scenario.” 

“It’s Taran, ma’am,” he gulped a bit of shame down.

“Taran, the First Minister was clear that you are to ensure our safety,” Claire offered, using what Bree would call her ‘doctor voice.’ “My daughter is about to run as fast as she can in the opposite direction of this gate.”

Claire quickly looked over to Bree to ensure she was following. She responded by raising her eyebrows and nodding. “You can either drive us to Bute House yourself, or we’ll find another ride.” 

Before he could blink or respond – Brianna took off. 

Claire and Taran followed in an instant. The man tried his best to keep eyes on both exasperating women – which proved to be a challenge as one was sprinting and one could barely keep up due to her healing ribs. 

By the time they all reached the exit where cars were picking up tourists and homecomers alike, their breaths were ragged. When Taran got his under control, he started, and lost, one final fight to get them back inside the airport.

Instead, they found themselves willingly buckling back into the kidnapper van. Brianna slapped her hands on the back of the passenger seat to signal she was ready to go. 

“Can we listen to the news on the radio?” Claire asked as he backed out. She wanted to hear Jamie’s voice more than anything – no matter what he was saying. 

“Aye,” he conceded. The man took orders well. Likely a good trait in his line of work, she thought.

The second she heard it – his voice – Claire unraveled completely.

“He’s going to have me killed,” Taran sighed as they listened to Jamie address the nation with authority and passion as he spoke about the charges being brought against his uncles and Geneva.

“If anything, he’d do it himself,” Claire clarified, earning a smirk from Bree.

“You’re earning points with us. Keep it up and we’ll make sure he doesn’t hurt you too badly,” Bree offered in a cool, soothing tone as Taran put the car into reverse.

Claire stifled a giggle. They both spoke as if they were sure their newly forged family would be salvaged – as if the plans that Claire and Jamie had whispered about in the warm cocoon of their rekindled love were all still possible. As Jamie disclosed carefully worded details of his abduction, and the truth about Laoghaire, Geneva, and his uncles, a nagging, painful thought shook that surety loose for Claire.

If Bree hadn’t seen him on the news, or if he hadn’t called Taran when he did… they would surely be on a flight to Boston. They were going to leave him. Again. And he had told Taran he wanted them to go. A familiar, devastating ache flared up in her chest. He wanted them to go.

At the first mention of her daughter’s name, Claire focused her attention.

“... Brianna was forced to stand up here and lie to you all in an effort to protect me. And the people I’ve chosen to surround myself with in this office allowed it to be so. The truth is, even if she wasn’t so clearly blood of my blood, I would love her all the same. At just 18 years old, she has a better handle on life than many of us ever will. She believes in love, despite all that has been taken from her. She knows what is important, and doesn’t want to waste any time. She is careful and courageous with every breath. Not to mention, she’s bloody brilliant at chess. In just a few weeks, she has irrevocably changed me for the better. Because of her – the love of my life has returned to me. Because of her, I am whole again.”

Jolted by his words, and unavoidable potholes, Claire slid closer to her daughter and grabbed for her hands. She didn’t think she had any tears left.

“A lot has been said and done in the past few weeks that has left my family hurting. Those who have acted in bad faith will be held accountable for their actions. I promise you that. Of human virtues, patience is most great. And so I thank Claire and Brianna for being patient with me. I’ve known what needs to be done long enough now. My abduction only made it more clear – more urgent.”

“What is he doing?” Bree exclaimed.

“SHH!” Claire and Taran responded, perhaps a bit too harshly. 

“I built this life when I thought true love was lost to me. Who I am today is not who you elected, nor is the person you elected who I want to be. And that is why I must resign as your First Minister.”

Chapter Text

The aftermath of James Fraser’s resignation would be suitable representation in the dictionary for the Scots word “stramash.”

In all his time as First Minister, he’d never seen so many hands shoot up in question, or heard so many voices tumbling over each other in an attempt to reach him.

“What’s next for Scotland?” “What’s next for you?” “What does the timeline of your resignation look like?” “Are you abandoning your commitments for love?” “Will you move to America?” “When can we expect updates about sentencing for MP Dunsany’s wife?” “Was your relationship with Laoghaire and the girls a complete farce?” “Is this a win for the mob?” “Is this your legacy?”

His head spun with answers, and even more questions, but he kept his mouth shut and turned away.

There was only one person on his staff who truly understood his decision, and she was queued up for the daunting task of completing the press conference. “I’ve got this,” Ainsley mouthed, giving him the go-ahead to avoid further badgering.

He shook away his guilt for feeding Ainsley to the wolves, reminding himself that she had volunteered. He only made it steps away from the press room before reuniting with Murtagh and Roger, who remained bewildered.

“Ye really did it then?” Murtagh asked. “Aye,” Jamie nodded. There were echoes of his own voice through the speaker in Roger’s phone. Who I am today is not who you elected, nor is the person you elected who I want to be. And that is why I must resign as your First Minister.

“I canna believe it,” Roger said, looking up from his phone in awe. “Ye did this for Brianna? She’s going to freak out. And not in a good way, I think.”

“I did it for me. And for Scotland. She deserves a fresh start, free from all the corruption I’ve enabled,” Jamie clarified, pushing through the space between the two men towards his office. They followed down the long hallway while Murtagh whispered warnings to Roger re: Not Making Things Worse, even if he was only pointing out the obvious.

Behind the heavy door to his office sat a meticulously carved wooden desk full of hundreds of pages of dense legal documents he would need to go through and sign before his resignation would be official. He stood rifling through the papers, while mentally rifling through his own thoughts.

Had Claire and Brianna been here – they likely would have tried their damndest to stop him. They had been so self-aware, and so cautious of how their presence would affect his established life. Yet they barely considered how he could impact theirs. Because of the choices he made, they had each come face-to-face with the barrel of a gun more than once….they both had been ripped to shreds by the press. Not to mention, Claire had only just been released from the hospital.

If they would still have him in their lives after all that happened, he would be happy to muck shite for the rest of his days.

Thoughts of the work he did as a lad at Lallybroch quickly pulled him from his spiral by reminding him that he hadn’t seen his sister since making his decision.

“Where’s Jenny?” he finally spoke words to the men who stood in the door way watching him like they would an animal at the zoo.

Murtagh spoke up eventually, letting him know that she was giving her statement to police, safely accompanied by his “officer friend.” Jamie nodded, not looking up from his paperwork. Murtagh locked eyes with Roger and silently nodded in a clear direction: excuse yourself. “I can go check on her, if ye like,” he offered.

“Thank ye,” Jamie muttered, taking a second to look up as he left. Murtagh shut and locked the door behind him, clearly desiring privacy for their conversation.

“Jamie, lad, have ye taken a second to breathe?” Murtagh asked when Roger disappeared. He knew the answer before asking. Jamie could sense Murtagh’s hesitancy in speaking, but it didn’t prevent him from snapping.

“I dinna need tae breathe,” he shouted, impatiently. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t protect my family when they needed me most – not 20 years ago, not last week, not today. I’ve failed them.”

Murtagh listened quietly as Jamie’s voice broke. He watched as Jamie’s shaking hands moved from shuffling papers to wiping tears from his eyes.

“Ye say ye failed them, well, then I failed ye all as well. Ye trusted me tae protect them in yer absence and I couldna do so.”

“A ghostidh, ye didnae fail me. I had no idea how deep th’ rot went. It seeped into my entire life. That’s no’ yer fault. It’s mine alone.”

“If ye canna blame me, then ye canna blame yerself either.”

Murtagh stepped closer with each word, then placed a hand on his God son’s shoulder. “There are clear enemies here and Claire and Bree are stronger than most. They’re safe now. I ken ye will set everything tae rights. Ye’ve done yer best with the cards ye’ve been dealt. And for what it’s worth, I think ye made the a wise decision just now. This office? This job? It’s important, but it’s not what drives you. I ken you. Ye’ve got your father’s heart and yer mother’s courage. It takes a special man to choose love over power.”

While his answering nod wasn’t full of confidence, it was progress that Murtagh seemed pleased enough with. Pleased enough to move onto business. “What now? What can I do to help?”

“I’m trying to wrap my head around it all,” he sounded exasperated as he took a seat behind the desk. Murtagh sat in the leather seat across from him, awaiting orders.

“There’s much to do. I need to sort through all of this paperwork to make my resignation official and assist John with the investigation, help him figure out exactly how deep the corruption here goes. There will be the trials against Dougal, Colum, Geneva, and Laoghaire, Bonnet, and all of their outed accomplices – for which my testimony will be invaluable. And I intend to make them pay tenfold for everything they put my family through.”

Jamie’s head was spinning again, and that feeling was reflected back to him on Murtagh’s face.

All he had said was true, yet Jamie knew the one thing he needed more than anything else was to hear Claire’s voice – to be sure she and Bree were all right. But how long would that take? He glanced at his life-saving wristwatch. They were in the air for at least another five hours.

“And ye expect them to stay in Boston while you resign and handle all the rest yerself?”

“All those years ago, Claire left because she didna feel safe, because she was worried for Bree and for me… and nothing has changed. If there’s any hope for a future for us, I need to handle this once and for all.”

Murtagh had just begun to argue with Jamie’s logic when rapid-fire knocks interrupted at the door. If it hadn’t been locked, it was clear the person was impatient enough to burst through on their own.

They locked eyes knowingly, both assuming it to be Jenny’s knuckles at the door. “Haud yer wheesht,” Jamie quipped unconsciously as Murtagh reached for the knob. The door was open before Jenny could offer a rebuttal.

Both men were right about who was knocking, but neither could have imagined the company she was keeping.

Jamie’s eyes raked over said company again and again, just to be sure he wasn’t imagining them. His heart knocked in his chest at rapid-fire to let him know he was still conscious. Jenny smirked at his inability to speak, then cleared her throat as a signal.

“Hi,” Claire said simply. She let a shy smile peek through as she tried her best to read his response to her presence. If he could see his reflection in a mirror, he was sure he would see a desperate wreck of a man.

“Ye didna get on the plane,” he said, stating the obvious, after clearing the lump that had formed in his throat. He stepped around his desk, and slowly approached his family as if they were a wild doe and her fawn.

“I’m in my teenage rebellion era, what can I say?” Bree joked, earning a surprising snicker from Murtagh. The tension in the room was still there, but a pressure had been released.

A shaky Jamie willed his body to keep standing — to reach for them. When he was close enough, he did just that. He reached for Claire’s left hand where she was still wearing his ring, and brushed his fingers against the metal and surrounding soft skin. Then reached for his daughter’s to hold for the first time. In those quiet moments, Murtagh and Jenny made themselves scarce.

“We couldn’t leave you once we found out you were likely safe. Not again,” Claire admitted. The door softly closed behind her as she scanned her eyes up and down his body. He knew she was itching to get her hands on him for a full examination. When they finally locked in on each other, he assured her he was okay, and she reciprocated.

Somewhere during their silent exchange, Brianna took her hand back “Did you really want us to go back to Boston?” she asked shakily.

“No,” he said quickly, shaking his head emphatically. “Of course no. I dinna want to be without you, ever…. But…”

He paused briefly to watch Claire turn his left hand over and sandwich it between the two of hers. She rubbed her fingers over the calluses on the tips of his fingers, over his palm, and up to his wrist where she lingered on the rope-burnt skin.

“But...” he continued, gently pulling his wrists away with a kiss to Claire’s knuckles. “Look at all that’s happened. Especially everythin’ that happened today…. You should want nothin’ to do with me. I could understand if that was the case, I mean.” He turned sharply to Brianna then, “I saw your speech, a leannan, I’m so sorry...”

“Sorry?” She questioned sadly. “Da, you don’t have anything to apologize for…” She trailed off, clearly reconsidering. “Well, except maybe for trying to send us away without asking us how we felt about it…”

“Murtagh told me that your parting words were that you would take care of each other, I thought that maybe…”

“Well, you thought wrong,” Bree clarified. “We only went to the airport because we thought it was the only way to save you.”
“Sometimes we can be misguided in the pursuit of keeping each other safe, aye?”

Claire cupped Jamie’s cheek as she offered her understanding. She knew better than anyone. He nodded gently into her hand.

“Did you really need to resign, though?” Bree asked, unbelieving. “Can’t you walk it back? Say you were overwhelmed by all the kidnapping and backstabbing?”

“No, I won’t walk it back,” he said, simply. “It was the right choice.”

“But how can you give it up — being First Minister? Haven’t you worked really hard for this?”

“Won’t you miss it?” Claire asked, concerned.

He could only assume they were worried that he would come to regret the decision he seemingly made in the heat of the moment.

Healing was Claire’s calling, and she needed it to feel whole, especially after leaving Jamie. And Bree grew up watching both Claire and Frank throw themselves completely into their work. He was sure that was why his decision wasn’t an easy thing to comprehend.

It was different for him. He knew that he could find work in any form, in any place, and he would find purpose.

It wasn’t a hasty reaction to a disastrous day: it was pure honesty.

“When I was with Bonnet, I didna think for a moment of any of my responsibilities as First Minister, not for a second did I truly contemplate the security of our nation. No, my only thoughts were of the two of you. So, no, I dinna need to be First Minister. I need the freedom to build a life — a home — wi’ you. Wherever you need to be. Ye ken that’s why Colum and Dougal forced ye away from me. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. Our family is my legacy.”

“So why don’t we make it official, James Fraser?” Claire asked with tears spilling down her face. “While you’ve still got some pull with the local government?”

Bree caught on quicker than her father, allowing a wide grin to take over her concerned face.

“It would be pretty cool to be able to say you were kidnapped and married in the same day,” she responded, beaming with hope.

“Yer no’ serious?” he asked, a bit of humor masking his genuine disbelief.

They exchanged mischievous smiles before nodding emphatically. He hadn’t expected to seem them standing in front of him, much less to see them smiling at him like two wee ones plotting for extra dessert.

“Do ye have any idea what the next few months will look like? Between the resignation and the criminal trials and the press… they willna leave us alone…”

He scanned their faces looking for even the slightest change in their position. When they didn’t falter, he continued.

“Then there’s Marsali and Joan to think of, the poor lassies are more than likely to be left wi’out a mother, at least for a time. I made them promises I canna keep, but I can make sure they’re okay… Oh, and wee Fergus, the orphan from the hospital, ye ken? I told him I wouldna forget about him. My intention was to see this all through and then come find ye in Boston.”

“We’ll see it through together as we should have been all along,” Claire said, unshakeable.

“Are ye certain ye want to be wi’ a soon-to-be unemployed man?”

“James Fraser, I wanted to marry you when we could only dream of having anything of our own. I’m yours no matter where we live, and no matter what you do.”

“Thank Christ,” he prayed and let out a sigh of relief into her mouth. “I’m no’ brave enough to live without you anymore.”

Brianna stood watching her parents reconnect for much longer than she should have, finally backing out of the room when their hands started roaming.

They broke apart at the sound of the closing creak of the door, each letting out guilty giggles for losing themselves in each other.

At a hint of genuine concern, she reached the tips of her fingers for the deepening wrinkles on his forehead.

“She’ll be fine, my love,” She whispered. “You should have seen her running through the airport like she was in one of her romantic movies. This is what she wants.”

“We’re blessed to have such a spirited, supportive wee lassie, aye?”

“I feel like the luckiest woman alive.”

“And I am the luckiest man,” he echoed, leaning his forehead against hers. “I swear to you I’ll no’ take a single day wi’ you for granted for the rest of our lives.”

“That sounds an awful lot like a vow,” she smiled. He could feel her heart beat racing in the pulse of her neck.

“Aye,” he whispered, pulling away slightly to meet her dazed gaze. “Blood of my blood.”

“Bone of my bone,” she answered, nearly breathless. With the way her eyebrows pinched, he knew she was remembering the last time they had exchanged those words.

Over 20 years later, they finally had the chance to fulfill the promises they made to each other when they were hand-fast at the standing stones.

Instead of thanking the Lord again, he wrapped his fingers tight in the curls behind Claire’s head, pulled her in, and transferred his gratitude onto her lips.

Chapter Text

She felt gratitude surging through her body. To be here in this moment with him, on the precipice of a real future together… it was all that she had ever truly wanted.

Whatever it took to get there, she had him in her arms once again. And for better or worse, they had grown into people who would not let go.

He was wrong to think that she couldn’t understand him giving up his position. If she felt she had to choose between him and her calling, he would win out every single time.

She knew that she would find happiness with him no matter where they started their new life. As long as they were together.

She let the stupid man kiss her silly for so long she felt her lips start to go numb. Were they both over-breathing? She pulled away to take stock of her breath. She was quite excited.

Looking like a teen caught fresh out of “Seven Minutes In Heaven,” he struggled to catch his own breath.

She smiled coyly before deciding to take advantage of the moment.

What had Bree called it earlier? She thought to herself… Her “teenage rebellion era?”

Well, Jamie’s eyes on her were just begging for her own rebellion.

“I’ve just thought of another thing we should do before you’re no longer First Minister,” she whispered provocatively, all the while taking steps away from him. She could tell he was confounded, his hands twitching with the need to touch her again.

The room fell silent save the click of the lock behind her back.

“It’s been a long day, but do you think you have the energy to take me on your desk, Your Excellency?”

He stood staring at her, lips agape, breathing stilled.

The image of him taking her roughly from behind against the wooden desk of his formal Keeper of the Scottish Seal office was one of the last thoughts she had before her accident. She was too
embarrassed to admit that, even to him.

He certainly wouldn’t be as forceful as he was in her imagination, due to her still-healing ribs, but she knew it would always feel like a fantasy when she was with him.

“Sir,” she started in her lowest register. “Can I get a response to my inquiry?” She nearly giggled at her choice of words. She had so clearly never worked in a proper office.

She watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he blinked instead of speaking and she knew he was fighting to hold himself back.

“You want me. You can have me,” she whispered, quickly unbuttoning her shirt. “We’ll be quick and careful. I promise nothing could hurt me worse than the idea of leaving you today.”

She hoped he wouldn’t make her beg, but knew she wasn’t above it. She had gone twenty years not feeling his body on hers. She couldn’t dream of depriving herself again.

“Ye canna wait till our wedding night, a nighean?” He bit his lip as she shrugged her shirt off onto the floor.

“No, and I don’t think you can either,” she said looking down at the proof of what her undressing was doing to him.

“How can we be quick and careful at the same time, Sassenach?” He shook his head.“Your daughter will be back any moment with the cavalry.”

“I raised a smart girl, she’ll wait for us to come to her,” she reasoned. He groaned as she reached behind her back for the clasp of her bra, but paused at his worried reaction. He had seen her bruises before, but she could tell he was still focused on them. 

“Fine, I’ll do all the work,” she offered, kicking her shirt in front of him and carefully kneeling on top of the cotton. She hadn’t yet had the chance to get her mouth on him, and she was giddy as a schoolgirl at the prospect.

“Claire, ye dinna —“ His words were lost to sounds of pure unadulterated pleasure slipping out. He looked up at the ceiling, begging for forgiveness or whatever he was mumbling to God about. Claire smiled smugly, she hadn’t even gotten past rubbing him through the fabric of his pants.

“Love, can I take these off now? Or would you prefer to speak with Him a bit longer?”

“Lord, ye gave me a rare woman,” he spoke to the ceiling with gratitude, then focused his attention to where she stared up at him, waiting for his consent. “I canna believe I’m to be married to such a wee Vixen.”

She licked her lips, then placed an open mouthed kiss where her hand had just been.

“Alright! Please! before I finish in my pants like a bairn,” he begged.

“Right away, Sir,” she responded, watching him unravel with need.

She obeyed orders. The moment she had his pants and boxers off, he was in her mouth. The feel of him being at her mercy, coming undone in his own office, completely obliterated any dream scenario.

It had been twenty years since she had performed an act of fallatio. Her unwillingness to have Frank in that way was often a start to their worst marital spats.

A pinch of regret hit her as she realized that her inexperience was making her feel a bit uneasy. But those feelings were easily blown away by the sounds Jamie was making.

She hollowed out her mouth for him, sucking hard and grazing his shaft with her teeth. When her jaw grew tired, she began pumping the base of him with her hand while licking his tip. She finally took her hand and mouth away when he started panting like a wild dog.

She looked up to find a betrayed and frustrated look on his face. In return, she smiled, proud that she had accurately guessed that he was so close. She used her finger tips to graze him gingerly in apology.

“How do you want to finish?” she asked him, perfectly happy to accept any answer he gave. Face, chest, mouth…

“Inside you,” he breathed out, shocking her. He held out one hand to her to help her up from her knees and pulled on his hard-on with the other.

She made quick work of the rest of her clothes before he could rethink his answer.

“Put your hands on the desk,” he ordered as gently as he guided her and spread her apart.

He placed sloppy wet kisses along her spine, shoulder, and neck. As if they had all the time in the world. “Dammit,” she cursed as she shivered, knowing he was simply paying her back.

He chuckled, but before she could say another word, he pushed himself inside her with one hefty stroke. He repeated his delicious movements again and again, pulling nearly all the way out before returning to her completely.

She knew the moment her sensed her wince of pain, because instead of feeling a slam against her cervix, he brought a hand up to her face. She turned her head slightly to meet him.

“Are ye alright?” he whispered, not daring to move the lower half of his body.

“Yes,” she confirmed, wincing as she pushed her arse back towards him. “Please, don’t stop. It hurts a little, but I want this.”

When he didn’t come back to her immediately, she turned her body so that she was face-to-face the man who was by all accounts still the First Minister of Scotland, yet completely under her power.

“I want you to come inside me now,” she said confidently, without wincing. “And I want you to do it again later, once I’m officially your wife.”

He had no choice but to obey his soon-to-be wife, but expertly used his fingers to ensure ecstasy for her pain.

When they both finished together, she was the one mumbling to the ceiling as he breathed hard on her chest.

“There’s no way they won’t know what we were up to in here,” she said observing the state of him.

“Ye ken, I dinna think I care,” he said with a quick kiss to each of her breasts. Then reached down to the floor for her clothes.

“Now that you’ve got that out of your system, can we plan our shotgun wedding?”

He rolled his eyes at her, and she giggled sweetly.

“Thanks for making my dreams come true,” she said, speaking of way more than the mind-blowing sex.

Chapter Text

An impromptu wedding at Bute House would never come to be. And it was all Jenny Murray’s fault.

She wasn’t opposed to the marriage, or even the spontaneous nuptials —  only the location and lack of consideration.

Bree realized her mistake the second she recounted her mother’s mad idea to Jenny, Murtagh, and Roger.

While the men were pleased to hear the exciting news, her aunt was visibly agitated. Roger sought out Brianna’s hand as they listened to Jenny’s woes.

When Jamie and Claire finally emerged from the First Minister’s office, the group was happy to ignore their tousled appearances in favor of addressing the news.

“I’m sae happy for the both of ye,” Murtagh said, slapping his Godson on the back.

“Hold on!” Jenny spoke louder than necessary before Roger could say anything approaching a greeting. “I canna believe ye. Why on God's green earth would you consider getting married here — where we were all just held at gunpoint, fearing for our lives? Is that any way to start a life? Why -- " 

"Och, Janet... keep the heid," Jamie warned, patience failing him. 

"I ken ye want to do it now, before anythin' can stop ye, but please, do it right. Do it at Lallybroch. Father Fogden owes me a favor. I have a bonny dress Claire can borrow..." 

Sensing their hesitant resistance, Jenny painted her vision vividly. She conjured images of a blazing hearth, bouquets of snowdrops, pansies, and winter jasmine, homemade brandy-soaked fruit cake, and hog-wild children.

Neither Jamie nor Claire could deny they would much rather be married at Lallybroch, and so, their decision was made with a single glance. But before they could voice their agreement, Jenny went for her final sell. Pulling her trump card, she said, "It’s what Ma and Da wouldha’ wanted." 

A heavy moment passed between the siblings before Claire finally replied, "You had me at snowdrops."

In an instant, the two women locked eyes, smiling frantically from ear to ear.

“Thank ye, sister,” Jenny bellowed, bringing her arms cautiously around the woman who had haunted her sleeping and waking dreams for twenty years. "Are ye certain?"

"Aye. On the one condition that we're husband and wife before nightfall tomorrow," Jamie said, leaving no room for any more of his sister's ideas. 

"Understood, brother. Dinna fash, I'll take care of everything," Jenny assured him as she released her hold on Claire. "Aside from making it legal... that I leave to you, Mr. First Minister-for-now."

“Brandy-soaked fruit cake, though? Is that negotiable? What about chocolate with chocolate frosting? Brandy on the side,” Bree offered.

“It’s an auld wedding tradition, Bree,” Murtagh clarified with a grin. She sighed in defeated response.

“I can make ye whatever cake ye like. And in return, all I ask is that ye help me wi’ yer wee cousins when they’re bouncing off the walls,” Jenny laughed, though her ask was sincere.

“Done!” Brianna exclaimed, more excited about spending time with them than she could ever be for a sweet treat.

Over their heads, Jamie locked eyes with John who silently called him over. Jamie excused himself with a kiss to his fiancee’s cheek.

Claire watched the interaction carefully, noting how the detective’s stern focus softened. Jamie nodded along to whatever his friend had to say, then patted the man’s shoulder.

When John’s face lit up at something her fiancé said, she couldn’t look away quick enough.

“Have you not met John yet, then?” Murtagh asked Claire after catching her staring.

“No…” Claire confirmed. At her curious tone, the rest of the group couldn’t resist peeking.

“He saved the lad’s life today,” Murtagh offered vaguely.

“But it’s no secret he’s quite fond of Jamie,” Jenny added.

“Fond?” Brianna inquired, then quickly realized what she meant. “Oh! Fond.”

Claire looked from Brianna to the men still engrossed in exchanging words, then back again. She wondered if her daughter was reliving the conversation she had with her father regarding their commonalities. Claire, on the other hand, recalled a few young students who were fond of her husband Frank.

“Nothing to fash over, sister,” Jenny assured, lifting her thumb to the crease between Claire’s eyebrows. “They’ve worked it out between them. They’re friends and nothing more.”

“If John’s fondness for Jamie saved his life, allowing me the chance to finally marry him… how can I begrudge the man his feelings?”

Brianna was impressed by her mother’s seemingly impenetrable faith. Unbeknownst to Claire, she also held on to memories of Frank’s dalliances.

Claire clocked her daughter’s awe, and felt the need to bring her back down to earth. “If I am to take up arms against every person that falls for your father, I will be living an awfully violent life,” she said, crossing her arms. “Doesn’t mean I’m above staking my claim, from time to time.”

All eyes were on her as she walked up to introduce herself. None could miss the confident sway of her hips — she stood as tall as her healing body would allow.

John was the first to acknowledge her approach, looking over Jamie’s shoulder with a courtly smile. Jamie’s smile when he turned to meet her was nowhere near polite. In fact, his lustful mouth sent the anxious pulse of her heart plummeting down to her core. She resisted the urge to swat at him once she was close enough, instead choosing to accept his offered hand.

“John, this is —“ Jamie started an introduction that apparently wasn’t needed.

“Claire,” John presumed. “It’s lovely to finally meet you.”

“And you must be John,” she said, lifting the hand not covered by Jamie’s for a polite handshake. John stalled for a moment, as if not computing, then took her hand in his and up to his lips for a featherlight kiss.

“He has loved you with every heart beat,” John whispered, eyes glassy. Claire’s were suddenly full too — with understanding.

“Thank you for keeping it beating,” she responded.

They stood linked as a few breaths passed between them. Some quiet amongst the chaos, until Jamie cleared his throat.

John dropped her hand, and took a step back before seamlessly transitioning back to business.

“We do have a few questions for you, but the First Minister has asked that I hold them for a later date,” John said in what Bree would likely call his ‘detective voice.’ “Your daughter and the others already gave their statements, so that will do for now. Jamie can update you on everything else. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to check back in. I’ll have my best people follow you home.”

“Thank you, John,” Jamie said, simply. A thank you for saving his life? Protecting his family with a fervor? For how he treated her? Claire wasn’t entirely sure. But his gratitude would have to be enough for now.

With a final look at the couple, who were still linked by their intertwined fingers, John left to reconnect with his team.

Jamie was speaking before Claire could ask any follow-up questions.

“John’s confident that Colum and Dougal will each see at least 20 years in prison. It’s no’ enough, but it’s a start.” His voice was so detached, it might have scared her if she didn’t know him. He balled his fists, regretting the fact that he wouldn’t be afforded the chance to use them to make his uncles truly sorry. Claire sensed his internal conflict and used her small hands to get him to flex his fingers. He continued after a stretch. “He says lawyers are working with Geneva and Laoghaire on plea negotiations to ensure their cooperation. He expects they will also get less than they deserve, but that it’s likely a jury would have sympathy for them regardless. He hopes that the negotiation will ensure some time.”

“Is Dougal doing alright? I never thought to ask,” Claire said, slowly digesting all of the information presented.

“Aye, Sassenach. Unfortunately, you missed his stomach by a hair.”

“And what of the children? Marsali and Joan? What will happen to them? They shouldn’t have to lose their mother too… If there’s anything I can — ”

He hushed her softly to stop her from offering anything at all. “Both Ainsley and John have been in contact with Child Protection. Marsali and Joan are with their Grandmother. They’re okay, and likely better off. I’ll speak with them both as soon as I can.”

He watched as guilt-ridden thoughts swirled around her head for a moment before leaning forward to anchor her with his lips. Relief spread through her body like a wine-drunk buzz at his touch.

“Have I told ye how grateful I am that ye are the mother of my child, Claire?”

She hadn’t realized she still needed his reassurance so desperately. There was a monster in her chest that had been watered and fed for twenty years… and apparently Jamie was his sole tamer.

“I also asked Ainsley to check in on wee Fergus,” he continued.

“Fergus,” she repeated, affectionately. “How is he?”

“He’s doing okay. He remembers us…” He smiled shyly, before turning stone-cold serious. “Claire, please hear me: I will never need anything in this life but you and Bree. But when I saw the wee lad sitting on your lap in the hospital… I imagined how ye mightha’ looked wi’ Bree at that age. Ye said we would see what we could do…. but do ye want to be his mother, Claire?  I know the timing couldna be worse but I think the lad deserves you.”

She couldn’t deny it — she felt the same instinctual pull toward the child that she had felt toward Jamie that first day they met at the stones. She was there to pick flowers, but something divine had picked him for her and her for him.

If she knew anything for certain now, it was that there was never a perfect time to take a chance, and that some risks were worth it. She learned that from Brianna, who dared to cross an ocean to meet a man she only knew of through a fairytale. She had no guarantees — only hope that it could all work out. And while they all might have chosen a simpler path, their love had endured. And that’s what truly mattered — their daughter taught them that too.

“I want a full life with you, James Fraser. I want to burn your toast, and kick your muddy boots out of my way. I want to watch you lose at Chess to Brianna, and sit beside you while you read the Sunday paper. I want to plant herbs wherever we land, and fuss over you when you’re not feeling well. I want to choose you every single morning, and every single night. But most of all, I want to raise a child with you. No matter the risk. I want us to be parents to Fergus and whomever else should come along if we’re so lucky…”

Feeling a bit wine-drunk himself, he stared at her — dumbstruck for a moment. Then he dropped his forehead to hers in a prayer of sorts.

When he finally gathered his wits, he inched closer and with a quirk of his brow said, “Luck has nothin’ tae do wi’ that, Sassenach.”

Claire giggled into his mouth as he grabbed a modest handful of her arse.

“Maybe I was wrong and ye should do the ceremony here and now,” Jenny shouted at them from across the room, where she stood shielding the eyes of their daughter.

“My parents are so in love it’s kinda gross,” Bree said with a humorous groan.

Murtagh laughed in a way most were not privy to. “This is all yer fault, lass!”

Roger responded with a kiss to her temple. “Ye should be proud, Bree.”

She turned suddenly, looking at her boyfriend with an irrevocably open heart. “What more could a lass want?” She asked innocently, then burrowed into his steadfast warmth.

Chapter Text

Visiting Craigh Na Dun had become a family tradition, but it was also Brianna’s favorite place to spend time on her own. Sometimes she got so lost in her head, or a drawing she was working on, that it felt like time passed differently for her. From the first time she placed her hands on one of the stones, she felt a connection to the earth and all of its mysteries that had been long established by her parents before her.

She woke as early as her Da when on holiday, intent on soaking up all a place had to offer. This particular year, she was intent on experiencing a Scottish summer twilight at the stones. Their rental place was close enough for her to hike, but her father, ever the protector, insisted on driving her there and staying close by until daylight officially arrived. Together they stood in the tall shadows of the stones, watching silently as bright yellows, coral pinks, and deep purples peeked through the blanket of morning fog.

“Wow,” she whispered, almost breathless. He turned to her.

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven," He spoke slowly, eyes shut, as if he was reading the words in his mind.

“Are you quoting the bible?” she asked, realizing she was quite familiar with his tone.

“Aye, this is Ecclesiastes,” he confirmed as he opened his eyes. Hers were still on the sky. “It’s only something I ken to be about the phases of life… which yon twilight sky minded me of.”

Bree smiled as he pulled her into his side.

Once the sky settled, she spoke again, thanking him for the ride, and company.

“Anytime, a leannan. I’m happy to be here wi’ ye. Besides, the wee heathen was kicking me in the side all night so I’ve been up for hours.” Bree laughed at the image of her tiny brother kicking her enormous father out of bed.

“Did ye bring any of yer watercolours this time?” He asked.

“No,” she said, regrettably. It was her first thought upon seeing the darkness fold into such heavenly colors.

“Och, dinna fash. We’re no’ likely to forget a sight like that.”

“No, not likely,” she echoed. She’d only seen a more beautiful sky depicted in her own grandmother’s oil paintings hanging in the halls at Lallybroch.

Once she waved her father on so he could return to the house and prepare for their afternoon picnic, she sat by her favorite stone and flipped through her sketches. Within the parchment pages of the leather bound book, she found a compilation of tourists clad in plaid, trees with personalities, and exhaustive portraits of her family. All devoid of color.

While it left her with a black-and-white perspective, she loved the ephemeral nature of willow charcoal and the sensory experience it created for her in its short life. But it was no way to capture a beautiful twilight sky.

She could easily sketch her parents from memory, but it was always more difficult with her growing brothers. In just a year, Fergus had shot up like one of her Mama’s dill plants, and just as quickly, Willie had lost all of his baby fat. She smiled as she flipped to a portrait that featured his irresistible wee leg rolls.

Further back, she found one she had done of her parents just before they told her and Fergus that their freshly-formed family would soon be growing. Her mother sat between her father’s thighs, leaning her head back against his chest — radiating joy. Her father’s hand splayed on her mother’s stomach like it was part of his own body. Though she didn’t draw him that day, she remembered Fergus’ wary smile so clearly. “It’s okay to be nervous, I am too,” Bree had said. “I never had a sibling before I had you. But it’s been pretty dang cool, right? A baby sib will be fun!” And he was, eventually… Bree thought, considering the many sleepless nights in those first few months of getting to know William Henry Beauchamp Fraser.

Her memory was strong, but it was always strengthened by her art. Touching the pages, she could almost hear her Mama’s voice singing made-up songs about her “silly Willie,” and imagine the sticky feel of the honeycombs her Da always packed for their picnics.

Like the arrangement of the ancient circle, there were certain things time couldn’t touch.

Before she knew what she was doing, she was drawing once again from memory. This time, it was nothing she had ever seen at the stones.

She was filling in the thick rims of his eyeglasses on her third attempt at his face when she realized she had never drawn her father Frank before. She had no idea why she was suddenly provoked to do so. Her first thought was to blame the eerie magic of her setting. She didn’t participate in organized religion like her father or boyfriend, but she believed in something. And something wanted her to feel close to Frank at that moment. It looked enough like him for her to feel impressed with her work.

As she waited for her family to appear with their planned lunch, she began speaking to him quietly.

“Hi Daddy,” she whispered, slightly smudging the clean white area of the page around his face. “I’m sorry I haven’t been to see you,” she apologized, realizing in the moment that it had been almost six years since she stepped foot on American soil. She then wondered out loud if her accent had mutated at all before moving on to more important topics.

“I know it’s still not Harvard like we planned but I imagine you wouldn’t be too upset with my choice of graduate school. Oxford, just like you and Mama,” she smiled to herself with pride, looking down at the ratty old sweatshirt Claire dug up the day Bree announced her decision.

“These past six years in Scotland have meant so much to me. Even though Da assured me they would’ve followed me anywhere — even if that meant him moving to America! Imagine Da living in Boston?” She laughed to herself. “But Scotland has become my home and I’m so grateful we get to spend so much time with Aunt Jenny and Uncle Ian and my cousins, and Murtagh, and Roger, and even Marsali and Joan. I could be happy here forever, I think… I just feel like it’s time to explore a bit on my own, you know?”

She rubbed the charcoal-stained tips of her fingers together as she considered her next words carefully. She felt her heart rate pick up as she started again, digging a bit deeper.

“Sometimes, I feel like an outsider looking in on this life Mama and Da have built. Like I’ll catch a glimpse of Mama showing off herbs and things in her surgery to the boys, or Da walking with Willie on his shoulders ‘round the stables… It’s always fleeting, but it’s strong. And it hurts. And I feel this immense guilt. And that’s selfishly when I miss you most… I like to imagine how you would understand and comfort me. But I ultimately think that you would be happy for Mama and that you and Da would have gotten along somehow. And that had you lived, you would have built something special too. And that’s what I want to do.”

She was wiping her eyes when she saw her family approaching. They were equipped with a bountiful basket, armfuls of tote bags and blankets, and bright smiles.

“Bwee!” Willie called out as he broke free from their mother’s grasp, running to her uphill and against the wind.

“Ye look like wocket waccoon,” he giggled, a bit out of breath.

“What?” She found herself laughing, despite how she was feeling.

“A raccoon, smudge. You’ve a bit of charcoal,” her mother responded, gesturing around her own eyes. Then she pulled a clean tissue from somewhere up her sleeves and offered it to her daughter.

Her father snuck up on her as she wiped under her eyes. “Have ye been crying, lass?” He asked before glancing at the drawing cradled in her lap. “Ah,” he breathed, as his gears shifted into understanding. “Did ye tell him about Oxford, then? He’d be so proud of ye, Brianna.”

“Who is dat?” Willie asked, pointing at the sketchpad.

Bree froze, not knowing how to respond in a way that would make any sense to her little brother. Though if he could accept a space raccoon who spoke English and fought aliens, she surmised he would accept just about anything she told him.

“Is that your other Papa, Bree?” Fergus asked, expertly reading the situation and making it sound so simple. Claire and Bree stared at each other as they both nodded, then they each turned towards Jamie. Asking, ‘Is this the time?’ without saying a word.

“I think I ken what our story will be today, laddie,” Jamie said to Willie in the special voice he used with all the children he taught to ride horseback. Willie was captivated as usual by his Da, watching intently as he flew a tartan blanket briefly in the wind before setting it to the ground.

“This story is about yer brave sister Brianna and how because of her — we’re all a family. Even the man Frank in her drawing there. It’s a long one, do ye think ye can handle it?”

“Aye!” He said, excitedly jumping up and down into a seat on the blanket.

“A long time ago, way before ye were born… a wee lassie named Brianna came into the world. Though she was always my child by blood, she wasna always wi’ me…”

“Why?” He asked, glancing at his sister to make sure she was still there.

“A few bad people did some very mean things to yer Ma, Willie. They scared her, and made her run away.”

“Bad like Thanos?” Fergus asked, knowing Willie would understand the reference to their favorite movies. Jamie hesitated to answer his son, knowing Claire was still uneasy about allowing Willie to watch them, but she had ultimately wanted him to be able to keep up with his siblings and neighborhood friends.

Bree picked up the conversation. “If not worse!” She said, hoping to hype up the stakes for her superhero-obsessed brothers. Willie catapulted himself into his mother’s lap at the comparison to the Big Bad he knew so well.

“It’s okay, lovie,” she soothed him, resisting the urge to comment about his dirty trainers on the freshly laundered blanket where they would be eating.

“We’re all together, no one will harm us,” Jamie promised. “Especially no’ yer ma wi’ all of us to protect her.”

“That’s right,” Claire echoed since her son’s worried eyes wouldn’t leave her face. “Your Da made sure that the bad guys would never hurt us again.”

“Do ye want me to stop?” Jamie asked his son. To answer, he finally broke eye contact with his mom, giving his father a brave nod. “Keep goin!”

“Alright…” Jamie started cautiously, waiting for a nod from Claire before continuing. “Your Ma was scared so she took Bree and hid all th’ way across the ocean, in America! Ye remember us telling ye about where Bree grew up? That’s where Frank, the man wi’ the glasses in the drawing, stepped in to take care of her while I couldna. He was a very good man and he made sure that Bree grew up healthy and strong and gave her all of the clues she needed to one day find her way back to me.”

“Where is him?” He asked with heartbreaking innocence.

“He’s in heaven, lovie,” Claire whispered, tightening her grip on her son, but her eyes never left her daughter.

“He’s Bree’s Guardian Angel now,” Jamie said without missing a beat.

“Can he be my Guardian Angel too?” Fergus asked his sister.

“I can ask him,” Bree winked, and a tear slipped out.

“He would do anything Bree asked,” Claire added.

“Many years passed and wee Bree grew into the bonnie sister ye ken today. On her 18th birthday, she decided she didna want tae hide anymore.”

Jamie went into fantastical storytelling about how Bree popped into his life and changed everything, embellishing a bit with details more palatable for a five-year-old: a princess ball where they danced the night away together, a swashbuckling sword fight where the villains were easily defeated.

Willie quickly went from upset and somewhat confused to thrilled — he stared at his sister in awe as their father finished the story, no embellishments needed.

“Bree brought all of the goodness back to my life. And thanks to her — we have Fergus, and ye, and our home. To live happily forever,” Jamie ended the story.

“Did you actually fight off those scary men with swords, Bree?” Fergus asked.

“Well, I did hit one over the head with a lamp…” she responded, not wanting to fully rescind the image her father had painted.

“Vraiment?!” Fergus was torn between disbelief and pride.

Meanwhile, Willie silently crawled out of his mother’s lap and across the blanket to his sister. “I dinna want you to weave far away for school,” he cried, grabbing at her with his tiny hands. “Please!”

“Oh Will, I promise, I won’t be gone forever, just for a wee while. Time apart will be hard, but nothing could ever take me away from you. You heard Da’s story… love always wins and I love you so much, buddy.” She squeezed him tight, and gave him enough kisses to send him squirming out of her grasp.

Jamie chuckled as Willie frantically wiped at his face. Not looking away, he felt around in the grass with his fingers until he plucked a small bunch of flowers from the ground. He held them out towards Willie, who excitedly grabbed for them — recognizing them by their blue hue from his mother’s garden at the big house.

“Do ye ken what these flowers are? I ken yer Ma has told ye.”

Willie thought hard, grasping for the words, ultimately not finding them before his brother spoke up.

“Forget-me-nots!” Fergus answered like he was on a game show. “Maman says they want us to remember those we love forever.”

“Including Bree’s other father, Frank,” Jamie said, reaching for the drawing to hold up for Willie.

“I wanna renember!” Willie said with enthusiasm.

“Then ye will, laddie,” Jamie said as Willie’s tiny fist crushed the delicate stems. He exchanged a significant look with his wife, too anxious to see how his words impacted their daughter. But Claire’s smile eased him and confirmed he did okay, which gave him the strength to finally return his attention, as well as the sketchbook, to Bree.

“Thank you,” she said, accepting the book. She tossed it aside just before launching herself into his lap as though she were no bigger than Willie.

“M’annsachd,” he whispered, sketching circles with his fingers on her back. As he easily soothed her cries, he recalled many dreams where he was able to do the same for her as a babe.

“Are ye hungry, lass? You’ve been out here for hours,” he asked as he watched his wife and sons start to unpack their smorgasbord. She nodded into his neck with a sniffle.

Any remaining sadness faded from her body when she saw that Willie and Fergus were already stuffing their faces as if the world was ending, or at the very least about to run out of cheese and crackers.

“What time is Roger coming down?” Claire asked, handing over a fully assembled plate of her daughter’s favorites. “Are you planning to come back to the stones tonight or wait till tomorrow?”

“What? Roger’s in London,” She said, taking the offered plate while carefully watching her parents. “What? He’s not… What’s going on?”

“I kent I shouldna have told ye,” Jamie said to his wife, laughing through his faked annoyance.

“How was I to know that it was a secret that he was coming at all?” Claire asked her husband, innocently. “We promised not to ever lie to each other again. You had no choice when I heard you on the phone.”

“Since when do you speak to Roger on the phone?” Bree asked, confused.

“Och, Roger Mac calls me from time to time, to be sure,” Jamie said with a straight face.

“You don’t really expect me to believe that do you?” When he didn’t budge, she continued. “So Roger’s coming here and he’s told you and not me? Now, why would he do that?” She was prodding for an answer that had come to her almost immediately.

Her parents shrugged dramatically, giving an almost comical performance.

“Ye’ll act surprised when ye see him, aye?” Jamie asked, uncharacteristically panicked.

“This is why you were quoting Ecclesiastes to me, isn’t it?” Her mind was whirling, putting pieces together. “Do you think I should say yes when he asks me?”

“I dinna ken what ye’re talking about,” Jamie said. Bree folded her arms. Her smug smirk was defiant, especially after noticing the pointed tips of his ears had gone red.

“We support whatever you want, my darling,” Claire said, ignoring Jamie’s lame attempt at denial. She brought a berry to her mouth and popped it in before she added that she believed Roger to be one of The Good Ones.

“It feels insane, like jumping off a cliff… but the two of you make me feel like it could actually work… And I want that for myself.”

“It is like jumping off a cliff, Bree,” Claire said. “You need to trust that the water will be deep enough.”

“I ken Roger has Faith that it’s deep enough,” Jamie offered, which made their daughter smile. “That’s why I gave him my blessing, though I told him the only blessing he truly needed was yours.”

Bree knew in her heart Roger had that too.

As if she suddenly couldn’t resist, Claire laid a kiss on her husband’s lips that had strangers stopping in their tracks to gawk.

Bree wondered for a moment if any of them might recognize the former First Minister, even with the outdoorsman look he had going on — the shoulder-length locks and facial scruff. She had dealt with a lot of her trauma from her time as the First Minister’s surprise daughter in therapy, but there were always the unpredictable triggers of online harassment or real world run-ins. Though these occurrences were few and far between as her parents quickly established roots in their highland community together. It was their safe haven, likely fortified by the valuable services they offered their neighbors.

Thankfully, not a single stranger approached their blanket at the stones that day — which signaled to Bree that they likely just weren’t used to seeing such obvious PDA anymore. Alternatively, she and her brothers were immune.

Though when their parents pulled apart, only to press their foreheads back together, Brianna and Fergus rolled their eyes in harmony. Willie, on the other hand, was too focused on flipping through his sisters’ drawings.

“Oops Bwee! I sorry!” He shouted as he realized he tore the corner of a page.

“Dinna fash,” she said, without hesitation. “So, what should I draw next?” she asked her brother, happy to change the subject to keep her stomach from flipping.

“Do one wi’ me, you, Fergus, Ma, Da, Adso, Murtagh… Roger Mac…Marsali, Joanie…” he said as he thought out loud, running out of tiny fingers to count on.

Fergus nodded, then added, “and perhaps your other Papa too!”

“Oh yeah!” Willie responded, reignited. “And Auntie Jenny and Uncle Ian…”

Before he could attempt to recall all of his cousins by name, his sister cut him off with a laugh. “Woah. This is starting to look a lot like The Last Supper in my head.” Her father chuckled in agreement.

Willie looked at his mother confused, so she told him she was proud of how many people in their family he could name, then quickly went on to suggest her own idea. “What if you did one of how you remember this morning’s sunrise, darling?”

“I would but…” She stopped herself, curious as to why her father was suddenly rummaging through the canvas tote bags.

“A wee gift from yer proud auld parents,” Jamie said, anxiously presenting a ridiculously expensive watercolour paint set she’d had bookmarked in her internet browser for years.

“How did you — These are perfect!” She nearly squealed in excitement. She went to show her brothers, but both were preoccupied with ripping the plastic off the new action figures her mother had sneakily handed them.

“We want to commission a piece for the big house, so consider this payment,” her Ma said practically. She paused to sniffle, then spoke softly. “I want something that will make me feel like you’re right next to me when you’re far away.”

Bree flung herself into Claire’s arms as quickly as her tears started falling.

“One unforgettable Craigh Na Dun twilight sky coming right up!” she promised, squeezing her father’s hand while hugging her mother just as tight.

“Unforgettable, indeed, a leannan.” Jamie hummed gratefully as Brianna breathed in the warm summer air, the sound of her brothers smashing their new toys together, and the magical sight of the family that according to her Da — she made possible.