Work Text:
Title: Truth
By: HermioneSparta
Rating: M
Disclaimer: All aspects of the Outlander franchise belong to Dina Goldstein.
Summary: In the end, there is only truth.
There had been little time to think during the last several months. And yet, somehow, he had done much of it. Almost as if to spite the chaotic world around him, his mind had analyzed every encounter between them.
And he had, after the dust had settled and the war moved south, come to a worrying revelation.
Something was wrong.
Claire was a fierce, stubborn woman. He'd known this for many years, even when he cursed her nth ways from Sunday for it. Her daughter had been the perfect blend of her father's honor and mother's will- independence was all but her second name!
And yet, both Fraser women had displayed an unexplainable degree of…what?
Brows furrowed, he stared at the crackling flames.
Protective, yes, but that was to be expected. The…relationship between himself and Jamie was tremulous at best. He could not expect them to simply ignore such a truth.
His musings fell away as the air rent from pain and fear. There was no description for such an animalistic noise. Neither a gasp nor scream, it simply…was.
Lord John Grey carefully made his way towards the stairs. Whatever the feeling between himself and each Fraser, he cared far too much for them all too simply ignore their suffering.
His intervention became unnecessary as he prepared to ascend. A strangled sob reached his ears, halting his steps. Claire's voice, muffled though it was, followed moments later.
"Jamie?"
There was no verbal reply, only the sound of door hitting wall.
Quickly removing himself to the kitchen once more, he felt rather than heard the front door open then close.
Without thought- oh the irony!- he poured her a cup of tea with a dash of whiskey.
"I thought you were asleep," she said by way of greeting when she spotted him.
She was tired. Her eyes betrayed her, despite her smile. When she took the cup, her fingers wrapping tightly around it, he could see her strain within her.
"I couldn't rest," he replied. Forgoing a drink himself, he looked towards the front of the house. "As enjoyable as the quiet is, it's rather…."
"I know," she finished for him.
For just a moment, the darkness lifted in her eyes. Then she glanced away as he had, and he saw it nearly crush her upon its return.
"Claire, I…"
"It's not you, John," she said in her surgeon's tone before he could continue. "We invited you to stay with honesty."
"He hasn't forgiven me."
"Jamie…understands what happened, John. Though I still think you a suicidal fool for telling him as you did."
"Better he have time to vent his reaction upon myself, my dear, than you."
Their eyes met, and he saw her sad smile begin to waver. Hesitant, he laid a hand on her shoulder.
He understood the agony of a broken heart, as well she knew. There was no shame to be had as tears flowed in place of blood.
They had returned the Ridge, as both Claire and Jamie had sworn to do. Their home was rebuilt, their lives similar to what they had been before they'd left.
Even Brianna and Roger had returned from abroad, the children with them.
And yet…something hung between them. He feared it was the truth of their brief marriage, but as she laid her head on his shoulder with silent tears running down her face, he knew it was not.
He hugged her after another pause. Her helplessness, her hopelessness…it burned him.
They- she and Brianna- had not been protecting Jamie from his heart, nor his attraction. He was well aware of Jamie's revulsion for his love, and the women knew it.
No, they had been protecting- or trying to protect- Jamie from something else. And God help him, he prayed it was not something he had done.
"Sassenach?"
Voice broken by his own weary spirit, there was no threat in his voice or posture. They turned to look at him as one.
John's arms fell on their own accord, and moments later she was in Jamie's.
"Stay," came the quiet, halting request as he turned to leave. "Please."
Loneliness burned his heart, and exhaustion threatened his sanity.
"We're too old for this," he heard himself say in response. "For these lies and omission. After three decades, can we not be truthful?"
Perhaps it was the Revolution and all that occurred during it. Their children, the brief marriage, the fire or nearly losing their lives more times than they could count. Possibly it was what came before it, those times William had been their buffer and they'd slowly become friends. Mayhap farther past still, when he was a brave lad trying to rescue a captive woman.
Or maybe…he was simply right.
They were far too old for games, and had been through far too much for such lack of trust.
"Do ye ken Jack Randall?"
"…yes…" was the simple reply. Disgust and horror made itself known in that single word, whispered though it was.
"Aye, and ye know I was in Wentworth for a bit."
He nodded, no longer trusting his voice as his mind cast back to years past. Those desolate months during which they had first spoken and come to a tentative, friendly truce.
Before he (irrevocably?) ruined it all.
Their eyes met, the small fire doing nothing to chase away the shade's chilling presence.
The pain and horror he saw upon Jamie's face tore his heart asunder, leaving behind bleeding anchors.
The sound of minutes past- the pure, animalistic noise- echoed through his mind anew.
He stepped closer, drawn to them as she wrapped her arms tighter around the haunted Highlander.
"I-" came Jamie's halting, broken voice. "I c'never forget, even if I c'n sometimes forgive. I…" He swallowed hard, eyes closing as twisted words of love pushed against the surface of his thoughts.
How long? How long would those God-forsaken days haunt him?
The question rattled around John's mind as he recalled that fateful dinner.
The hand under his light touch became cold, an amendable expression becoming one of disgust and…and…
Fear.
The truth became clear.
Eyes closed, he bowed his head, whispering in a grated tone, "I'm…sorry." Rooted by understanding, by self-evaluation and a friend's pain, he could only watch them comfort one another.
In the dark, cold night with decades of half-truths between them, the distance was too much to bear. He stepped back, preparing to leave, before a trembling voice called out.
"Stay, John…please."
He met Claire's eyes as she held out a hand, her other arm wrapped firmly around Jamie. He moved his gaze to the other male, preparing for rejection.
So rarely was his comfort accepted or even acknowledged.
As if he wasn't human, without compassion or empathy, left to be ignored and shunned.
Now, however, the eyes which so often accused him were…neutral.
Giving him a choice.
He moved closer after a moment's hesitation, taking her hand. Her nails dug into his knuckles, binding him to them.
The truth of understanding, of friendship and hardship, hung unspoken like a shroud around their huddled forms. Jamie shifted his weight, angling an inch or so towards him.
Eyes closing in relief and a sense of belonging, he smiled ruefully.
"What an odd family we make."
Jamie's lips twitched as Claire wiped her eyes, chuckling. "But it's ours."
"Aye…it's ours."