Chapter Text
“ I love you ” Claire cried “ Jamie, I love you. ”
“ And I, you. ” He whispered against her lips. A single tear escaped to roll down his cheek.
He looked over at her, taking every aspect of her in, as much as he hated to admit it, he knew it was time, he must say goodbye to her now, goodbye to their future, and all of the plans they had for it. He must tear his heart out, he would live without his heart for the next few hours to see her and the bairn safe, safe in another century, safe in another man's arms. He knew he would die on that bloody moor and there would be no safe place for her and the bairn, not here, not in this time, not without him to protect them.
He slowly walked her backward toward the tallest stone, standing ominously in the center of the circle of standing stones at Craigh Na Dun. He turned her slowly away from him, his chest pressed tight to her back in their last embrace. He began to raise their joined hands as they got closer to the stone. “ If only it could all be different ” He breathed into her soft curls and closed his eyes against the pain of losing her.
Just as their fingers touched the stone, everything suddenly went dark and his body felt as though it was being ripped apart in every direction. He could hear the screams, he felt and heard his own screams ripping from his chest, then just as suddenly as it had begun, everything stopped, no sound, no sensation, he was bodiless and then just as abruptly as the ripping sensation began, he was… nothing.
He wasn't sure if he had fallen asleep or if he had only swooned, but he felt as if his body had unexpectedly been torn into a thousand pieces and was just as abruptly being put back together. His head felt like he had been in a fog as he started to come back to himself and feel whole again.
He could smell the wet grass and dirt and it felt as though he was laying on the ground, this didn't come as a surprise since he experienced the sensation of falling and he was likely lying on the grass at the base of that cursed stone.
However, he couldn't shake the feeling that something otherworldly had undoubtedly happened. He could feel his body tense when he heard familiar voices all around, voices he should not be hearing. A voice that sounded like Dougal and another that sounded like Angus, but it could not be, could it? No, it could not be that, they were both dead, he had killed Dougal himself only hours ago and Angus had died at Prestonpans months ago. None of this was making any sense to him, unless... well unless he was dead, touching the stones must have killed him.
He couldn't think clearly with his mind so muddled, he was certain that he was only confused, dreaming perhaps, but surely, he must have died when he touched the stone, it was the only possible rationale for what he was feeling and hearing.
He recalled Claire telling him of the screams inside the stones, she thought them to be the souls of those who could not make it through to the other side. He had heard the screams and the agony of those tortured souls and had also felt it all himself. He wondered if his actions and choices had killed Claire, the bairn, and himself, surely this must be Purgatory, it was undoubtedly what he deserved if his hasty actions had led to their deaths.
Everything was so dark, he couldn't see a thing, but after a moment he realized that he had been squeezing his eyes shut. However, before he could open them, he felt as though he was being lifted off the ground by numerous hands. As he peeled his eyes open, he became aware that he was being roughly carried into a cottage. Rupert and Angus were settling him onto a stool in front of an eerily familiar, bright, warm, blazing hearth. As they stepped away from him, he became bitterly aware of a sharp ache in his right shoulder. Certainly, you don't feel pain, smell grass, dirt, the foul sweat of the men around you, or feel the warmth of a fire if you are truly dead.
Something strange was indeed happening here, but if it wasn't that he had died, what could it possibly be. He thought of everything that had happened since he touched that menacing stone and came to a sudden realization that he was most likely still alive, “What has happened? What is going on?” He tried to stand but was held down by a large hand on his uninjured shoulder.
Rupert spoke up “Ye must a' hit yer head too, lad?” he chuckled “Do ye no' remember? Ye fell off yer horse when the Red coats shot at ye, looks like ye knocked yer shoulder out of joint when ye landed.”
He was most definitely still alive but this didn't make any sense, he wasn't on his horse when they touched the stones, and there weren't any Redcoats about. They had left Donas hobbled at the base of the hill before hiking up to the top. Moreover, why, or a better question would be, how were all the men here?
His thoughts were cut off when the door burst open to reveal Murtagh stalking in, dragging none other than Claire, unwillingly behind him.
It was at that moment that understanding washed over him and he realized what had most likely happened. God or the fairie’s in stones or whatever powers were responsible for the magic on that Godforsaken hill had heard the wish of his heart. His wish for everything to be different.
They had been given a second chance. They were starting over where they had first met. It would be easier this time, this time they both knew what the future held for them. They could make different choices this time, choices that didn't lead to torture, pain, separation, and death.
“Who is it ye have there, Murtagh?” Dougal asked as he took in her almost nude appearance.
“A Sassenach wench, Dougal, by her speech.” Murtagh quirked his brow as he looked her over again.
“Eh, a bonny one, Sassenach or no'.” Rupert growled.
“C’mere, lass” Dougal stated as he stood to walk toward her “What’s yer name lass?”
“Claire... Claire Beauchamp” She thought It would be better off if she used her maiden name, no use in leading them back to Frank. If they planned to ransom her, she would not do anything to help them.
“Where did ye find this lass?” Dougal asked Murtagh.
“At the foot of Craig Na Dun. She was havin’ words with a certain captain of dragoons wi’ whom we chance to be acquainted,” Murtagh added “There appeared to be some question as to whether the lady was or was no a hoor.”
Dougal looked her over with a lecherous smirk on his face. Jamie clenched his teeth, he had forgotten how they had treated her, peered at her with suspicion, and talked to and about her during those early days. He didn't like it, he didn't like it one bit.
“I see. So what was the lady’s position on the matter?” Dougal asked.
“She said she wasna. The captain himself appeared to be of two minds on the matter, but inclined to put the question to the test,” Murtagh answered as he shrugged.
Rupert spoke up with a chuckle “We could put it to the test ourselves.”
It had gone too far, Jamie had heard enough, “We dinna hold wi’ rape, do we, Dougal?”
At his sudden outburst, everyone turned their heads in Jamie's direction.
“Do ye ken the lass then, Jamie, ye seem a bit protective over someone we just met?” asked Dougal
He quickly realized his mistake and had to conceive of something quick or they would both be dead in no time at all. “Aye, I remember her. She healed some of my scratches during my time in France when I was a soldier.”
Claire glanced over at the man near the hearth, curious about his mentioning of France. She wondered who the man is and how does he know her. She needed to get closer to him so she could get a better look at his face, she never forgot a face and usually recognized voices as well. She knew some Scottish soldiers during the war, but she could not place that deep soft voice, no matter how hard she tried.
Dougal’s eyebrows rose in a surprised expression then he said “Is that so?” he then turned and directed his attention back to Claire “Well then ye should be able to fix the lads shoulder, aye?”
Claire did not know what was going on or why she was there, but something was telling her that she had better play along if she knew what was good for her. After being shot at and nearly raped, she no longer assumed she was on the set of some movie. “Of course. I can, it is not that difficult really. You only have to get the bone of the upper arm at the proper angle before it will slip back into the joint.”
Claire stepped closer to the man sitting on the stool and knelt in front of him, looking directly into the most beautiful blue eyes she had ever seen. No, she had never met this man before, she never would have forgotten such a striking face or eyes the color of the ocean. She shook her head to regain her focus to fix his bloody arm, so they would hopefully, let her go. “This is the worst part.”
Jamie smiled sweetly back at her “I remember from the last time ye fixed it Sassenach.” However, he saw no recognition in her eyes at his smile or the familiar endearing nickname, only more confusion shown on her face.
Claire tried not to let his statement get to her, what is he going on about anyway, the man must be delirious with pain. Oh well, better to just fix his shoulder and be done with it. Claire thought to herself.
Jamie looked at her, trying to assess what was wrong with her. She looks lost and confused, does she not remember him, did she not remember them together, did she not remember their love. His heart broke a little at that moment when he realized she had no memory of the last three years. He alone would suffer from the memory of what they had being ripped away from them, the memory of everything they had lost.