Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He could feel her eyes on him as he turned the ignition on. The car revving to life, the gentle hum of the engine washing out his muffled sobs.

‘You need to do this, it is not the kind of opportunity you can turn away, Jamie.’

‘But, ye canna leave,Claire. Medical school…. I dinna want to go anywhere wi’out ye.’

‘Jamie.’ She said, resting her hand over his heart. ‘I’ll always be in here, but you need to do this.’

Oh how she had been right — he had needed to do this, but oh, how hard the goodbye was.

“Another coffee, mister?” The waitress asked. Jamie nodded, raising his glass so the lass behind the counter could fill his mug. “It’s three am, what are you doing all the way round these parts?”

Jamie let out a small chuckle. “Drinking away some pain, it seems.” He huffed, grabbing the small flask out of his jacket and pouring a bit of whisky into the cup.

“You like it like the Irish way?” She purred, resting her hands on the countertop.

“I’m a Scot, it’s Scottish whisky. I dinna drink the Irish crap.” He said a little short. He looked up, the lass was pretty, but she wasn’t Claire.

Blonde hair, green eyes, a bit on the shorter side, and clearly interested in him.

“I dinna mean to be rude, ye are a pretty lass….but I am no’ interested in ye.” He quietly said with a smile on his face. “I’m working up the courage to go see the lass who stole my heart a few years ago. She couldna come wi’ me.”

“She’s a lucky lady, whoever she is.” Bridgette replied, grabbing her notepad and going back to the kitchen.

“I think it’s me who was lucky.” Jamie whispered to himself, taking a sip of his coffee.

The coffee was warm down his throat, the whisky liquid courage.

He could remember how she kissed, how she tasted like spearmint every morning before she would run off to class. He could remember the expensive French shampoo that she used— the smell of lavender and honey.

She had been right, she was always right—it was one of the things he loved about her, her inability to lie to him. He had to go and like a soldier does when war is impending—a soldier straps on his boots and goes, no questions asked.

‘On your way, soldier.’ The words that had haunted his dreams during their time apart – the way ‘soldier’ had rolled off her tongue as she fought back the tears – tears he wasn’t there to wipe away.

He had done a 3 year tour in Japan, he was entirely a new person. He had the scars on his body as proof from an op that had gone south, rather quickly.

Now he found himself sitting at her favorite diner, fresh off the tarmac. His new mission: to find her, kiss her, and never leave her side again.

He had thought about her every day while he was gone—missed the way she stole the covers every night, missed the way she danced to Tupac in the shower when she thought he wasn’t home, and slept in his boxers every night.

Oh, how he had missed her.

The hardest part of their parting had been the sheer fact that she couldn’t know where he was or what he was doing. That’s the problem with being in the Special Air Services – secrecy breeds its own kind of hell.

Jamie took another sip of his coffee, finishing the cup and setting it back on the counter.

“I’m comin for ye, Sassenach.”

The city hadn’t changed in his time away. Jamie clutched his jacket to his chest, as he filled his lungs with the cold Scottish air.

He knew Edinburgh like the back of his hand. He meandered through the streets, his footprints the first on the fresh snow.

These streets had been home for so many years but after Japan and the mission to Iran…. He was lucky to be alive.

While he had healed in the military hospital on base, every day he had wished it was Dr. Beauchamp coming in for morning rounds…. Every day had led to disappointment. That it would be her hands to change his bandages, her hands to check his vitals—the ghost of her touch lingered with him every day.

He stopped in the park just around the corner from her place. The cold winter night bringing the aches in his knees out, his left hand sore as he clutched it tightly to his chest.

He stared at her window, the red curtains made it easy to stick out from the dark street corners.

He watched as the sun was rising just over her building, day was breaking. The orange and soft pinks masked by a thin cloud of grey.

It was three streets to the right and two blocks south. That’s all that separated him now.

Jamie drew a breath, the cold air filling his lungs once more as he tucked his head down heading for the hospital.

His watch read 7:15. Any minute she’d walk out the ED doors. He smiled as he remembered the night shift rotations during her clinicals through med school.

Her hair would be up in a bun, her lab coat hanging out from the bottom with her oversized black jacket on top. The black thing she called an earmuffs would make her curly mop extra frizzy, and bright red gloves Jenny had knit her on her tiny hands.

He watched from inside the coffee shop window, the shift change happening. The flow of nurses exiting meant the doctors weren’t far behind.

He sipped his coffee slowly, eyes never leaving the doors across the street.

And just like clock work, 7:18, she was there.

The lab coat, the jacket, the earmuffs, the gloves – Ah Dhia, she hadna changed a bit.

Jamie smiled to himself, zipping his jacket, heading for the door.

He watched as she grabbed her phone from out of her bag, sending a text, and shoving it back into its place. She wrapped her arms around her. The cool, crisp air sending chills down her body.

Jamie glanced across the street, once this taxi was out of his way—there was nothing but a block between them.

Better than the oceans, continents and years it had been.

Placing his first foot firmly on the street he watched as a car pulled up to the curbside – a smile on her face – a man driving the vehicle.

He was tall and slender, black hair, dressed in a suit.

Jamie stopped himself as he watched his Claire, his Sassenach, get into the passenger side – kissing the man on the cheek.

His stomach was in his throat –his heart racing as it simultaneously broke into two.

3 years was a long time—he had changed — she had changed her mind as well.

“Yer tearing my guts out, Claire.” Jamie said to himself as he closed his eyes holding on to the memories of what had been and what would never be.