Chapter Text
Coming Home: Part One
I am brought back to consciousness by the whirring sound of something I did not recognize—the melody of Scottish bagpipes, the fierce warrior cries of highland soldiers as they rushed into battle, the sound of my name murmured lovingly from Jamie's lips, were all drowned out by the dissonance of a beeping sound, muffled voices and footsteps.
A hospital, I realized, with jarring reality. And not a field one I'd set up in 1746 to tend to fallen soldiers.
That incessant beeping sound is my own heartbeat, a vicious reminder that I am no longer where I want to be. No longer in a century I did not belong in, but the one where I truly found myself. And my other half.
"Ma'am?"
My head snaps to the right, eyes cutting over my shoulder to the doctor.
I can't recall all the words he was speaking: found at Craigh na Dun, missing, three years… what does catch my attention, however, is his, "Your son is just outside, waiting for you."
"I don't–" but before I can finish the thought, a memory so strong I can almost taste it comes crashing down upon me.
His strong arm wraps around my middle, squeezing affectionately at my hip, the other weaving its fingers with my own as he stretches our arms out toward the stone.
I can feel his nose pressed into my curls, and my eyes close, trying to memorize the feel of my husband so intertwined with me that I can scarcely tell where he ends and I begin. I breathe in sharply as the sounds of cannons echo in the background, miles from here but close enough to remind me what I'm leaving behind.
We've stepped closer to the buzzing stone now, Jamie's feet having pushed me toward a future I want to refuse. I cry, the tears slipping down my cheeks as I scornfully accept the fate I am resigned to, my ragged breaths silently begging Jamie not to make me go. I can no longer imagine a life without him in it, and I can feel a small part of myself growing angry with him that he's not giving me a choice in the matter.
But, I remind myself, we have a child on the way. A miracle after what happened with Faith, but I'm still angry — at Jamie, at the Bonny Prince, at this whole bloody war, at fucking history — for taking this all away from me. A life where I finally felt content, like I belonged here for a purpose greater than myself… it was wonderful. And now it was all coming to an alarmingly quick end.
"Goodbye, Claire," he chokes out as our hands hover above the stone.
My vision blurs as his calloused hand guides mine to the large stone, and with my last second in the presence of my soulmate, I beg and plead to whatever higher being may be in charge that Jamie can come with me.
Please, let him come with me.
As I feel my body slipping through the stones, back to the future I've spent so much time trying to change, confusion clouds me as I hear a pained cry of, "Milady!" and, "No!"
Darkness shrouds my vision for the rest of my journey; I can't remember the feeling or the sights I may have been shown along the way. My brain feels as if it's shut off, shut down completely as I fall away from my one true love.
But that voice… Milady… No… it haunts me, echoes in the deepest recesses of my mind as I come back to reality. I can hear his little voice reverberating in the innermost depths of my soul...
I shake my head, eyes glazing over as I peer at the doorway just behind my doctor.
Fergus.
I breathe his name like a reverent prayer, utterly baffled as to how he had gotten here to… well, whatever year this was.
He comes bounding over to me, head of curly brown hair flopping as he does. It is the only thing so far today to bring a smile to my face. And I fear, being back here in this time now, that it may be the only thing for some time to make me smile.
"What are you doing here, you foolish boy?" I whisper into his head, peppering kisses to it and his cheeks.
My hands cup around his face, drawing him closer as I look to him in utter and complete shock.
He seems just as confused, but delighted to see me, I think, that little grin of his plastered on his face.
"Milady," he breathes in relief, curling into my chest as he draws up onto the small hospital bed with me. "I couldn't be wi-without you," he admits, adding softly, "You said I belonged with you, yes? That I would always have a home with you?"
My shoulders sink, and I hug him tightly, holding him in my arms even though we barely fit together on this bed, vowing silently to never let him go. I promise him over and over again that he would have a home with me, "Of course, Fergus," I say, but my mind thinks of Jamie. Alone now, without me or our son. What must he have thought seeing Fergus go through the stones? How did Fergus go through?
The rest of the world seems to melt away, just me and my darling boy together for the rest of time, until my doctor clears his throat again. He explains that my husband has just arrived, and my body immediately tenses.
A slew of emotions run rampant through my body. If Fergus is here, does that mean… could that higher being I begged have actually heard my prayer? Could Jamie be here, too?
He must be so bewildered. And lost. Probably shouting indignantly at anyone who will listen to bring him to her, I think with a hint of a smile.
I sit up as best I can with Fergus still curled in my lap. My arms tighten around him as I look toward the door, giddily expecting that large red headed Scot to come sweeping in, taking me and Fergus home to figure this whole mess out.
But instead…
My shoulders sag in synchronicity with my falling smile, and disappointment fills me as I see Frank walk through the door.
He looks excited, relieved, I suppose, then completely confused when his eyes dart down to the boy in my lap.
Fergus looks up, and I feel his small body begin to tremble with fear. I pull him closer, shushing into his hair as I whisper, "It's alright," and, "It's not him. I'll explain it all later," as I press a kiss to his head.
Fergus relaxes against me, his trust in me seeming to never waiver as he whispers, "Y-yes, Milady," and I smile to myself as Frank makes his way over to the bed.
The doctor explains, as best he can, about how I was found wandering the road with this young boy (a fact that I undoubtedly do not remember at all), and how a gentleman found us and brought us here after I passed out in his arms. "The boy claimed to be her son," the doctor says, looking between all three of us. "We don't have any record that you reported a son missing, but…"
Frank looks at me then, and he must read it in my face. Do not question him. Do not take this boy away from me, you fucking bastard. My protective maternal instincts kicking in as I draw Fergus closer to me.
"Yes," Frank says matter-of-factly, his head tilting toward the doctor but his beady eyes never leaving mine. "The boy is her son."
"Very well then," the doctor sighs, clicking his pen and gripping his clipboard. He leaves, and the room falls into silence as Frank stares down at Fergus and me in the bed.
"Um, Frank," I say, clearing my throat. "This… this is Fergus. My son."
His eyes narrow, most likely confused, and his head tilts to the side. "Claire, wha–"
"It's far too much to explain right now," I say, cutting him off.
He draws his lips in, nodding sadly. He smiles, and the fear that was trying to bubble up inside of me over him looking far too much like Black Jack dissipates, he has slight differences that I think I can learn to live with again, and for a fleeting moment I wonder if everything might be okay.
I kiss Fergus' head when he yawns and tells me, "I am very tired, Milady."
Looking around, I spy the chair in the corner where they'd placed my corset and dress. Brown and leather, looks big enough for him to curl into. I run my fingers through his hair, motioning toward the chair. "Try to sleep there, Fergus," I say softly, burying my nose in the top of his head for a brief second. "I'll wake you when it's time to go."
He nods tiredly, his eyes drooping as he slides from the tiny bed to the chair, moving my clothes gently to the window seal and curling his knees into his chest. He's asleep within moments, and when I look up, Frank is looking at me, eyes shining with a thousand questions.
He glances over at Fergus, then the attire he'd just moved, and I can see Frank's mind swirling.
As he slinks over to the clothing, he tells me that Reverend Wakefield has prepared a room for us, and I ask him if Mrs. Graham is still in his employ.
She was the one who originally told me about all of this, the fairies and the stones, surely she'd be the one I need to speak with.
Frank isn't sure, didn't think to ask, and he mumbles so as he picks up my eighteenth century clothing, examining it carefully like the historian that he is.
He stares at it for the longest time, and I simply sit there, arms wrapped around myself as I keep an eye on Fergus. Frank doesn't say anything, though I can see the questions and theories swarming his mind.
With that, he places the corset back down and perches on a metal stool in the corner, telling me that they just need to wait for the doctor to give her the all clear and then they can go.
After another few hours, the doctors confirm that there is nothing medically wrong with me, nothing to keep us here overnight, so Frank gathers what little belongings we have and takes us to Reverend Wakefield's home.
It's there that I spend the first half of the night questioning Fergus on how he got here—to which he says he'd followed Jamie and me to the stones instead of going to Lallybroch, watched me go through the stones and ran after me—which brings up a whole other round of questions my son simply cannot answer, like how he is a time traveler like I apparently am, how he knew he could do it (he didn't), and more complexities to this whole traveling through time conundrum that Fergus has no clue about.
Before putting him to bed, I tell him all about this world and the things he'll see that may scare him. I'd already walked him through how a car was just like a carriage only without horses, and how we cooked our food in the oven instead of cooking at the hearth, but there was still so, so much he would have to learn.
I kiss the top of his head, promising that I will be just down the hall if he needs me, before closing the door softly behind me and heading to the kitchen.
There, I finally sit down to talk with Frank, apologizing for just now getting to him but explaining that Fergus needed her. He will always come first.
He's quiet. Accepting, I think. But then a flood of questions begin, a barrage of accusations that I refuse to deal with tonight, or ever. I will not sit here and allow this man, my husband or not, to degrade what I shared with Jamie to simply an affair. If anything, being here with Frank feels more of an affair than anything I ever had with Jamie.
Frank is getting emotional now, crying as he tells me that he loves me and, though he doesn't understand what I've been through, or my love for Jamie, he can accept it. He says so, but I somehow don't fully believe him. There's something in the way he says Jamie's name, a jealous heat simmering just below the surface.
He's on his knees now in front of me, hands clasped over mine, begging, "We can still have a life together. Please, Claire–"
"I'm pregnant," is all I can think to say to finally shut him up. My insides feel as if they're attempting to claw their way out of my body; I can't sit here any longer and listen to this when all I want to do is scream from the rooftops about how much I miss Jamie.
His head shakes, almost does a double take in disbelief before a smile so bright I think it might possibly generate all the electricity in this house splits on his face, his brown eyes filling with tears. "Claire, that's wonderful," he beams, squeezing my hands. "How is that, how is that possible?"
I must look at him as if he's insane to honestly, somehow, think the child is his. And it must dawn on him then, because just as quickly as the joy filled his face, the crushing reality sets in. His smile fades and the tears dry as he comes to realize he's not the father.
"No," is all he can say, over and over again as I tell him I'm carrying another man's child. Brought one back with me, too.
His anger gets the better of him, and he stands, growling in my face as his fists ball, ready to hit me if he were lesser of a man. I stare up at him, silently daring him to do something, though my heart is beating with fear.
He's so much like his ancestor that it terrifies me, and he doesn't even know it.
Frank storms off, slamming the door behind him, and my first thought is of Fergus.
I stand, pulling my robe around me as I make my way to his room. He must be so scared, and I don't want him to be alone tonight.
With that, I gingerly make my way to my boy's room, curling into an armchair that sits beside the large window. I watch him sleep, the light of the moon illuminating his features, and as I drift off with one hand resting on my barely-showing bump, I can feel a small smile growing on my lips knowing that, despite what's happened to Jamie, our son and our unborn child are safe here with me.
{************************}
The next morning, Fergus and I sit outside at a small garden table, tea and biscuits in front of us that Mrs. Graham has prepared.
We tell her all about the stones, and I tell her how Murtagh saved me from Black Jack, how I couldn't comprehend what was happening, thought I was on a film set (movies, I remind myself, something else I need to tell Fergus about), and everything that led to me being taken to Castle Leoch.
I recount as much as I can, the hours passing as the older woman and Fergus listen intently, my son never having heard this part of my story.
The sun sits high in the sky, and we all know it's almost time for Mrs. Graham to prepare lunch for us all, but the woman takes my hand, urging me to continue.
I smile, tears forming as I tell her about Jamie, and his love for me. How we tried to stop the Battle of Culloden, and even went to Paris.
Reaching over, I ruffle Fergus' hair and say, "And that's where we met this one," as I bop the end of his nose.
He smirks, rolling his eyes playfully as he joins in the conversation, telling Mrs. Graham about how he met Jamie and made himself right at home in our estate.
Laughing softly, I nod as Fergus says, "When it was time for Milord and Milady to leave Paris, I-I-I could not imagine not going with them."
He looks to me then, this little boy who holds my entire heart in the palm of his hand, and gives me a shy smile.
My eyes crinkle on the end as I grin at him, but the smile fades as Mrs. Graham takes my hand. I feel as if she's going to say something bad, something that will take this afternoon of peace away.
Instead, she gives both Fergus and I a small smile, saying that each time we speak of Jamie, we mention his sense of humor.
"Milord is a, uh, a very funny man!" Fergus pipes up in excitement, gesturing with his hands and laughing to himself as, I assume, he thinks of something humorous Jamie had told him one time.
"Was," I whisper defeatedly, my chin quivering as I realize we can no longer speak of him as if he's just off in another town gathering men for his army.
He's dead. And has been for the two whole centuries… a fact that I cannot bring myself to accept, even though logically I know it to be true.
"I just want to know," I cry softly, looking to Mrs. Graham with pleading eyes as my hand lands on Fergus' back, rubbing soothing circles between his shoulders. "I just need to know if he really did… die on that battlefield."
Mrs. Graham repeats Jamie's words back to me, reminding me that my husband vowed to stand and die with his men on the battlefield, damn him, and she asks me if I have any reason to doubt him.
Looking to Fergus, tears now welling in his eyes as well, we both shake our heads in defeat, knowing James Fraser was nothing if not a man of his word.
With that, the older woman grips my hands, pulling my gaze from my son to her. She reminds me that Fergus and I have lived an extraordinary adventure, a life most people can only dream of.
"Treasure it," she tells us sincerely, smiling over to Fergus sweetly. She goes on, advising us to keep it in a safe place in our hearts, and I try to smile, knowing she's right.
She cautions me, with pleading yet understanding eyes, that I can't spend the rest of my days chasing after a ghost. I have a man here, in this time, that still loves me.
I nod hesitantly, despite not feeling as if I can accept her advice, and my eyes trail over the top of Fergus' head to the window where I see Frank watching us.
A tear slowly trickles down my cheek, and Fergus reaches up to wipe it away before I can get to it.
God, I love this boy so much. I'm so glad he came through the stones with me, and though it's scary and a whole new world he has to learn, I'm happy to have someone with me who has gone through the same thing.
This will forever bond us, mother and son.
With a bop of my shoulder to his, I pour him some more tea, and as Mrs. Graham goes inside to prepare lunch, Fergus and I spend the rest of the afternoon talking and laughing, reminiscing over the (admittedly, very few) good times we had while in the past.
The history books are scattered around us, and I close them all one by one, closing up the possible answers to Jamie's life or death for now but knowing, deep down, that he will live on forever in mine and Fergus' hearts.
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Hope y'all enjoyed! There are two more parts to this, showing us moments of Fergus and Claire in the future over the twenty year separation, and, of course, going back to Jamie! Let me know if you'd be interested in reading it… I've already got it written (just needs some editing lol), so, hey, I might just post it anyway haha…. Please leave a review! :)