Outlander Fic - Jamie & Claire

[Naraya]

Hello

In desperation for a Jamie fic (and being an avid reader of the books) I decided to take matters into my own hands.... Perhaps to begin a trend in Outlander fics, which, lets be honest, are begging to be written...

For now though - I offer this rambling little number.

(TBC if interest is shown)

Part 1

It was a miserable morning, even by Scottish standards, one of those days when the mist would manage to penetrate, and fully saturate, everything in its path. Anticipating a day of minor inflictions that accompanied such bone-numbing conditions, the compulsory arthritic complaints, asthmatic chests and the like, I had headed early to my subterranean dungeon of a surgery. It was still very early, a little past dawn by my estimation. Sleep hadn’t come easily to me, as unaccustomed as I was to sleeping alone. My husband had spent the previous night riding out to assist in the collection of outstanding rents from a rabble of absconding cotters, intent on leaving without the remittance of what was owing their Laird.

I had spent a pleasant morning preparing ingredients and dispensing to minor injuries and complaints. The time had passed without noticeable incident, until, just past noon, my attention was drawn the clatter of hooves in the courtyard above me. The familiar shouts of brazen insults and jest told me the group of riders, my outlaw husband amongst them, had returned and in good spirits by the sounds of it. Brushing the remnants of herbs from my skirts, I hurried up the uneven stone stairway to greet them. Jamie, noticing me in archway, dismounted the devilishly impatient Donas in one fluid motion, stalking towards me as the worsening drizzle coursed from his hair, down his face and neck. “Ah, Lass.” He sighed, gathering me into a suffocating hold, his left arm as solid as stone across my shoulders.

The heady scent of heather, horse hair, wet wool and an all-male aroma personal only to him flooded my nostrils, intoxicating me and stirring familiar feelings deep within my stomach. I could have stayed there, pressed against that solid chest wall for all eternity that was, until the damp from his plaid penetrated through my many layers, highlighting the extent of his saturation. Clicking my tongue in disapproval, I was able to disentangle myself from him as he leaned back to look down at me in concern. “What is it Sassenach? Ye not glad to see me, no?” I wrapped my thin crocheted shawl tightly across my bare throat with an exaggerated shiver. “You are like ice, Jamie, let’s get you inside shall we?” I led him across to the welcoming warmth of the kitchens and the bustling administrations of Mrs Fitz. “Eeh Lad your fair dripping on my flagstones.” She admonished, pealing the steaming plaid from his shoulders. At this, the front of his blood soaked shirt gaped open across his broad throat, clearly displaying a fresh flesh wound. Following my gaze he offered one word as explanation. “Donas.” The devil horse, uncertain and jumpy at the ruckus in the village, had thrown Jamie from him as easy as tossing rags from his back, leaving him bleeding, battered and bruised in body as well as pride.

“Let me see.” I instructed, peeling back his shirt. The wound, although superficial, needed cleaning to ward off infection, and I muttered as much as he rose to his feet. Stepping away from the fire, his now unshod feet left perfect footprints on the flags from his saturated woollen stockings. He stopped suddenly, his back to me, tensed muscles rippling beneath the damp, clinging material of his shirt.

‘Huh… ISSCHHXXOOO!’

He pitched forward, his damp curls falling in front of his eyes. For a moment he paused, fist held in front of his nose and mouth then shook his head, as though to dislodge whatever had brought on the momentary irritation. Nonchalantly dragging his red curls back of his face, he shrugged his shirt back over his shoulders, as though nothing had occurred. The look thrown at me from Mrs Fitz seemed to be advising ‘Keep an eye on him, Lass.’ She had spent five generations amongst these rugged highland men, their behaviours and afflictions were as familiar to her as her own. Jamie, on the other hand, appeared nonplussed, leaning against the heavy oak table legs crossed at the ankle, peeling an apple with his dirk as though nothing had occurred whatsoever.

Shifting the weight from one foot to the other, the heavy weave of his kilt raised a little, showing a small amount of taught thigh muscle. The usual bronzed skin had turned a mottled purple with the damp and cold. Noticing, I cleared my throat, turning away. “Mrs Fitz, could I possibly trouble you for the tub to be filled, if you could spare a girl that is?” Immediately catching on to my line of thinking, she hitched her skirts as though to fetch the pails herself. “Ey it be no trouble, supper’s all but prepared for the time.” Jamie, paused, glancing between myself and the conspirational Mrs Fitz. “I was hoping to lay for a time, in front of the fire in our chambers. My muscles fair ache from the ride. I had set my heart on a snooze in the warmth of my wife’s arms in front of my own hearth.” His eyes beseeched me, screaming more than he wanted to say in front of a kitchen full of maids. ‘Take me to bed , mo duinne, that’s all I ask of ye.’ Reluctantly, I sighed. “Very well. It can’t hurt, can it?” I agreed, leading him by the hand.

We missed supper. The night had passed its darkest point with the glow of pre-dawn creeping over the mountains. I had been dreaming of sun-drenched meadows, of waist high grasses sweeping like the waves of an ocean in the warm summer breeze. However, something had disturbed me and I surfaced from the dream as though from the depths of a loch. I floundered for a moment, unsure, before my eyes grew accustomed to the light. Jamie was sat in front of the fire, naked apart from the plaid draped across his bare shoulders, elbows rested on his knees, one wrist pressed under his nose. He was watching me intently. “I didn’t mean to wake thee.” He said by way of apology. His voice sounded gruff, as though it had grated from his throat. I propped up on my elbows, watching him. “Jamie? Is there something wrong?” For a moment he didn’t respond as though he hadn’t heard me, then he sniffed, a congested yet liquid sounding snuffle that told me all that I needed to know.

I held the blankets open for him to come back to bed. Dropping the plaid, he slipped in beside me, burying deep beneath, his face buried into my breasts. I felt him shiver momentarily, sigh, muttering something unintelligible into my chest. “I didn’t catch that.” I explained, lifting the blankets to look down at him. “I said…” he looked up into my face “I think I am ailing from a chill.” He sniffled again, sounding full and uncomfortable, he breathed heavily through his mouth. Mrs Fitz had clearly been right, I thought, thinking back to the warning look she had thrown me from his one solitary sneeze, something I would have completely overlooked.

His breathing softened, clearly he had fallen asleep. I lay awake, curling and uncurling a stray corkscrew of his hair around my finger, pondering his flailing health. At home I would have mentholated gelatine to unclog his sinuses, here I had previously handed out peppermint and crushed clove infusions, unsure of the direct results, but satisfied that a cold will eventually run its course in time. Now, however, as I personally found myself laid in bed with my huge husband showing the beginnings of a potentially bad head cold I wasn’t all that sure of the healing capacities of what I had available, especially to efficiently treat the fever I could feel was beginning develop.

‘HUH… ISSCCHHXX…. HUH… HUH… ISSCCHHAA.. HUH.. ISSCCHHHOOO!!’

I must have drifted back to sleep as I was awoken again a short time later to Jamie’s short, sharp sneezes. My heart sank, he was feeling no better than? I had hoped the sleep might have helped, but to no avail and he dosed, his snuffling snores a sure sign of a streaming head cold. I wondered about how a man used to the deepest, darkest wilds of the Scottish Highlands could be inflicted so, and how come it hadn’t happened on the other occasions he’d had cause to spend an uncomfortable night out in the damp? Could it be that my concerned, futuristic fussing and ministrations over his health had in fact tampered with his usual tolerance, altering his immunity somehow? It was these worrying thoughts that chased me back into a fitful doze.

I awoke later that morning to find myself alone in our chambers. I quickly saw to my toiletries and dressing then headed out directly to find Jamie. I made my way through the kitchens, noticing plants that needed tending in the kitchen gardens. Hitching up my skirts I strode across the damp grass, up the hill towards the stable building. It was a bright sunny morning the icy cold and very brisk wind had chased the rain clouds away for the time being, but it was too blustery for comfort. Wandering through the stables I relished the break from the gusts before, spotting the familiar copper hair, I emerged out into the stable yard, where for a moment, I was able to watch him break in an energetic young colt. Believing himself unobserved, I watched as he dropped the rope, bent hands on thighs, as sneeze after sneeze ripped from him. Eventually, as the onslaught momentarily eased, he wiped his nose on his sleeve, with a deep, liquid sounding sniff. I deliberately chose this moment to make my presence known.

“Good morning.” I called, striding out towards him. Spotting me he flashed a heart-stopping smile, as though his inflictions a moment ago had never occurred. “Ah, good morning to you, Sassenach. If you have only just risen, you may be too late to break your fast.” I didn’t reply, taking in his uncharacteristic appearance. His eyes were red rimmed and rheumy, his cheeks had taken on a chapped and raw, sunburnt appearance but it was his nose and mouth that gave away his obvious discomfort. His slim, elegant nose was tinged red, chapped and sore looking traces ran down to his top lip betraying the onslaught of an incessant head cold. He stood, arms folded over his substantial chest, regarding me as I struggled towards him, skirts billowing around me. “How are you? Feeling any better?” I noticed his eyes flick to the side, obviously looking to see if Alick was in earshot, for fear of his constant ribbing.

“Ay, canny complain.” He replied with a sniff.

I wasn’t to be put off so easily, however. “I was surprised to see you up and about to be honest. I thought you might have taken a day, you know, to get yourself right.” He snorted conspirationally, turning to pick up the rope and click the colt onwards. “Jamie!” I could tell just by looking at him that he must feel rotten, but clearly not as bad as he would feel if he let it become common knowledge, however his mutinous symptoms had other ideas.

‘HUH.. HUH…HUH..ISSCCHH… HUH… HUHISSCCHHOOOXX!’

The sneezes seemed to physically rip from his chest, causing him to cough painfully. “You really don’t need it to go on your chest you know.” I knew I would have to play my trump card if I was to get him to listen to even the remotest snippet of advice. “You don’t want to be too ill to ride out on the hunt next week, do you?” The arrival of the Duke of Sandringham, despite him being of ill repute, was a highly anticipated event, the highlight being the chase of the stag on Saturday next. I knew by his constant ramblings on the subject that Jamie was looking forward to it. He faltered for a moment, straightening, he stared off past me. Dropping his head, he glanced at me with a smile. “Calm ye’self, Lassie a healthy dose of ague ne’er harmed any man worth his plaid, not that I’d know mind.” A further succession of contradictory sneezes tore from deep within his rather substantial chest, which he managed to stifle successfully in the crook of his elbow, drenching the material of his shirt. I stared at him with what I hoped was a no-nonsense expression of firmness, hands on hips. He managed a cheeky half smirk before, sighing, he strolled over to me. “That desperate to get me in yer bed, no?” He grinned, with a deep sniff. “I’ll see what I can do. Gi me time to break tha colt then I will come back, you have my word.” I knew he was facing substantial ridicule at the hands of the others, but I wanted him, needed him, to be well. As though reading my thoughts, he raised my wrist to his lips, kissing gently above my quickening pulse. “Everything will be alright, Sassenach, I promise thee.”

[Arty]

JAMIE AND CLAIRE!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE THIS!!!!

[Naraya]

As promised, the next instalment. Not as much sneezing but bare with me... All good things come to those that wait!

Part 2

True to his word, Jamie returned to the castle. He appeared at the foot of the stairs of my basement surgery, seeming only half the man I had married. Clearly, bone weary from his exertion with the colt, he slumped down on the bottom step whilst he waited for me.

I helped him to our chamber, which was unpleasantly cold without a fire prepared in the hearth, and watched him begin to shiver as he undressed shakily. Finally, as he lay down in a nest of quilts, furs and blankets, he turned to me, and apologised to me sincerely. "Whatever is there to be sorry for?" I asked, gently stroking the curls from his clammy brow. He coughed weakly, turning to look at me, "We vowed honesty to each other, did we not?" He looked so forlorn, laid there, all dark eyes, pink runny nose and pale skin, I had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop from smiling. "I felt the settling of this chill the morn before last, but thought nothing of it, just a drizzle of my nose, y'ken? Now look! Each muscle pains me! I've been foolish Sassenach, and for that I beg of your pardon." He broke off to sneeze again, grimacing as each onslaught seemed to tear at his poor, tortured throat.

"You need to rest." I soothed, gently dabbing away a trail of mucous from his raw nostrils. He seemed too fatigued to notice, a sure sign of sickness in such a proud and headstrong man. I left him, then, to sleep, almost colliding with Mrs Fitz at the bottom of the stairwell. "Mistress Fraser, I was just coming to find ye, Lass. Here, this is for you." She handed me a cup, half full of a potent, golden liquid. "That's very kind of you Mrs Fitz. What is it?" She looked at me in surprise. "It's brandy, Lass. It'll help keep down the chill you no doubt brewing from sleeping with yorn Master Fraser!" Despite understanding her innocent and well meant gesture, I had to turn away, feeling my face flame. Usually sex defined my relationship with Jamie, and his with me. We were not shy in our affection for each other, this being common knowledge, we just had to try to ignore, in circumstances as communal as Castle Leoch. "Ye take care now, they'll need a healer along for the hunt, y'ken?" She patted my hand in a motherly gesture before bustling back towards the kitchens to prepare supper.

Later that evening, I was seated within the great hall. Jamie had not surfaced, as I had predicted. I had checked on him briefly before going down, his congested snores reassured me that he was going nowhere. Following a hearty supper of beef, roasted onion and other indiscernible root vegetables, we settled down with glasses of Ramish, whilst clan business resumed in the presence of Laird Callum. Towards the end of the sessions, a haggard and battle scarred villager approached the clan leader. Speaking quickly in Gaelic, I was unable to decipher what was being discussed. Mrs Fitz leaned over to whisper the proceedings. "He's requesting alms. His brother, Lachlan, was killed this week passed. Y'ken, the rustlin? Lachlan's wife is struggling in childbed these two nights past."

Her eyes met mine, as instinct kicked in and I raised quickly from my seat. "Where is she Mrs Fitz? Ask him to take me to her?" Mrs Fitz put her hand on my arm to steady me. "Calm ye Sen, Lassie. Alms hasn't been granted yet, on count o' Rafe himself not having moved from his hearth on the night o'the raid." I swung round to face her. "I don't care about the raid! A woman is in labour, in... In child bed. I must go to her! This barbaric!" I stepped forward, raising my voice "Take me to her at once!" I noted the stir my words caused.

Dougal stepped forward. "Calm y'sen woman. This is clan business." I was furious at his nonchalance. "As clan healer I insist upon being taken to her without delay." Dougal laughed, a cruel, thin sounding laugh amplified in the unnatural silence of the hall. The villager, Rafe, looked on in astonishment.

"This is Mackenzie business, woman, and you are no Mackenzie, Mistress Fraser." I floundered for a moment, before Callum stepped in to the breach. "Enough! Rafe Dubhghlas, Mistress Fraser will go wi you now." His word, it seemed, was final. Sessions was over. Gathering my skirts, I sprinted to my surgery to gather what I could lay my hands on that could possibly assist in the birth - the first I had attended since nurses training 200 years in the future.

The baby was delivered with considerable difficulty. Despite a natural cephalic presentation, the labouring mother, having come about her time due to the distress of her husband's death, had fought the process all the way. Screaming like a banshee, she had thrashed on the bed like a woman possessed. It took considerable coaxing to settle her. Only once she had calmed was I able to see, she, Anya, was nothing more than a girl of fourteen or fifteen years. "Anya, you are frightening the baby with your noise." I reasoned. "That's why it's taking so long to come, your baby is afraid, do you hear?" It seemed to make some sense, and gradually, baby Ffionlagh made an appearance.

Rafe Dubhghlas, already in his cups at the birth of his nephew, offered to escort me back to Castle Leoch. I was more tired than I had ever felt before, and wondered fleetingly whether I was beginning to sicken with Jamie's cold, before recognising the distinct lack of sleep I had suffered these last two nights past. I could smell the liquor on my companion from two paces back, that and a choking odour of a long-unwashed body. My stomach turned in revulsion as he turned to leer at me. We had reached open moorland. The lights of the castle, sparkled homely in the distance. The strong wind had cleared the huge moon which was bright enough to cast elongated shadows down the path. Rafe lurched towards me, hands grabbing painfully at my breasts beneath my heavy riding Cape. Having declined the use of a horse due to my travelling companion being on foot and 'wary of the beasts' I had foolishly agreed to travel on foot. My plight now was sickeningly clear, and I screamed as loud and as long as my lungs would allow.

As one foul smelling hand clamped across my mouth, I thought I heard the thundering of hooves over the heather, followed by the hiss of metal being drawn at speed from a scabbard. A dark shape loomed over my prone figure then all hell broke loose. I recognised the sound of blows being struck, of the groans and cries of a fist fight, then silence. A hand reached out to take my arm, causing me to scramble back, screaming again. "Claire, Claire. It's be Jambie." My heart lurched at the sound of his voice, struggling through thickening congestion. He took a firm hold of me, strong arms cocooning me against the furnace of his body then he fluidly sprang me on to the horse, spiritedly vaulting on behind me. We slowly made our way back up the moorland path to the safety of the castle.

Nestled against him, warm and safe, I began to drift off to sleep, lulled by the rocking of the horse, the raging heat from beneath his shirt and the constant, yet strangely reassuring sound of his near constant sniffling as he battled his cold whilst, once again, coming to my rescue.

[snowshie]

Oh man, I've been hoping for an Outlander fic! This is wonderful - I hope you continue!

[Rika]

I've been searching for an Outlander fic! Thank you so much for writing one! Poor Jamie is delicious and far too neglected!

I want to contribute my own, but I have been listening to all of the audiobooks, and therefore have no clue how certain things and names are spelled, so that's been holding me back. Once I finally buy one of the books and study up a bit though, maybe I can tackle it.

Hoping you'll continue, would love to read more!!

[Dusty15]

AHH!! I can't believe I missed this earlier! I LOVE Outlander and I'm currently on the 5th book I've been toying with writing some Jamie fic of my own but haven't got around to it yet. I can't wait to see what's next for this one!

[Naraya]

Apologies for not having updated recently. Will get straight on to it. You have my word!

[BurgundyJayne]

Thank the gods. Jamie and Claire forever.

[Purple]

This. Is. SO. GOOD.

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Post when you can. You've got waiting readers!

[Arty]

Oh my gosh jamie!!!!!!!! Sick and charming.

[Melody]

Yesss I've recently gotten into Outlanders I've heard really great things about the books and the show!

[LeadaAlexys52]

How did I miss this!! Mmmmm mmmm mmmm! Any chance of a continuation??

[Tangerine]

Oh gosh, I'm melting! I really, really, hope you choose to continue this!!

[AnteatersOnParade]

I don't know that fandom but I do know that I love this! Especially the character dynamics/interactions. Don't leave us hanging! Let her take care of him!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[starpollen]

I haven't seen the show yet, but I am loving this!  Please continue!   

[Naraya]

Apologies for not returning. I have in fact been busy writing - having now published work of my own on Amazon etc. I promise to update in the next few days!!