Chapter Text
anonymous said: Imagine a wounded Jamie with a dislocated shoulder being separated from the clan-mates, stopping exhausted near the stones and waking up in the 40s, when Claire arrives.
A wild wind picked up as Claire approached the stones, the very hill seemed alive. The was an odd sound, a singing and a screaming at the same time, a void, drawing her in, calling out to her. It made her feel dizzy and yet her steps didn’t falter, her feet didn’t stop moving. What she saw when she arrived in circle was… entirely unexpected.
There was a man, lying on the ground in a very serious state of disarray. He was dressed strangely, like one of the Highlanders of old that Frank was always telling her about. What the devil was he doing up here? “Hello there?” she called out, receiving only a pained groan in return. And for good reason, for as he sat up, she could see his arm hanging unnaturally at his side, and he cradled it, protective as he stared at her with wide, wary eyes.
“You’re injured. I’m a nurse. Let me have a look,” she offered, moving forward swiftly.
Dark blue eyes dropped to her breasts, of all things, but with a roll of her eyes, Claire ignored the look and knelt at his side. He didn’t move as she examined the shoulder. He was so pale, and no wonder- the stone he sat next to seemed to have come to life, making even her feel ill. She needed to slip the joint back into its socket, but she could barely concentrate while they sat there.
“I can’t. I can’t do it here. Can you walk?”
“Aye,” he said at last, taking her hand when she stood and allowing her to help him up.
Claire led the man away from the stones and back to the car, which he eyed rather dubiously. As she got him seated on the passenger side, she told him how she was going to fix his arm, and when he was ready, she took hold of the limb and carefully shifted it, biting her lip against his hisses of pain. With some resistance and a soft pop, the joint was righted and the man gave her an astonished look, to which she could only smile a bit in return.
“What’s your name?”
“Jamie,” he breathed, gazing at her as if she’d never seen a creature quite like her.
“Pleasure to meet you, Jamie. I’m Claire. Now, then. Let’s belt that arm in place so you don’t move it and strain it more, then I’ll get you out of here and have you seen to.”
—–
“We must go, Claire!” Frank hissed. “You’ve seen to his health. You’ve taken care of him and you’ve done all you can. It isn’t your job to- to–”
“He has no one else, Frank! We can’t just leave him. He’s… confused.” Claire set her jaw, eyes flashing as she argued with her husband.
“It’s been two months since you found him. We have a life of our own. I’m expected at Oxford.” He wrapped his hand around her upper arm, pulling her in close as he leaned down and spoke to her in a low voice. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. I don’t like it, Claire. I will not have it.”
“You’re hurting me, Frank. Let go,” she snarled. She wasn’t a fool. She’d seen it, too, and yet… She couldn’t go. She couldn’t leave him. Claire didn’t know what it was about Jamie, but she was drawn to him, and he– he was lost. How could she abandon him when he needed someone who cared to stand by him, to believe him no matter how insane his story sounded?
And she did believe him. God help her, she did. She’d heard the stones that day. She’d felt the draw. It could’ve been her; it could’ve happened the other way around. But it hadn’t. Jamie had come through instead, and Claire felt a need to be there for him, to support him until he could figure it all out.
“I believe the lady asked ye to let her go,” said a low, dangerous voice from the doorway.
Claire and Frank both turned, surprised, to find Jamie in the doorway, one hand on his dirk. Two months and they had gotten him in the habit of bathing almost daily, dressed in modern clothes, and yet he still wore the belt with his sporran, sword, and dirk. He trusted no one save for Claire; not even the Reverend, but then, he was a Protestant, and they were not to be trusted. But Frank, he had a special kind of hatred for. Jamie had told her why, of course, and though it sounded utterly insane, she believed him in this, as well. She had seen men with the look Jamie had in his eye whenever he was around Frank. Those men had been soldiers in a war not long over. This man had the look of one who was still at war, even now.
Frank’s gaze shot daggers toward the Highlander, but he released his wife’s arm and turned to look down at her. “I am leaving tomorrow, Claire. With or without you. Consider this carefully. You know me; I am your husband. He is a stranger. Don’t make the wrong choice.” And with that, he strode away, pushing roughly past Jamie as he headed for the door to leave.