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Chapter Text

I haven't come around in so long

But I'm coming back so strong

“Hi Jamie, it’s me, Claire” 

He had missed the sound of her voice. That was Jamie’s first thought as he sat on the sofa at Lallybroch, his childhood home and now his sisters’ house. She lived there with her husband Ian, Jamie’s friend since they were in the cradle, and their two children, Jamie (named after him) and wee Margaret (affectionately called Maggie by family members). Phone pressed to his ear, an eternity seemed to pass before he managed to say something back, the words stuck in his throat. Eventually, he landed on “Claire?”

He felt pathetic for leaving her hanging, and then only managing to say her own name back to her. She must think I’m an eejit , he thought, as he waited for her to call him exactly that. In truth, he’d called himself that many times in his head long before Claire’s call. Suddenly unable to bear the silence on the other end of the phone, he added “Is everything alright with ye?” More silence followed his question, and he was starting to worry something bad had really happened to her when she spoke again, haltingly and almost in a whisper.

“I’m alright, I called because I need to ask you something, a favour of sorts.” 

Jamie waited on the line, breath hitched in his throat but, sensing Claire’s distress at getting the words out, decided to help her along. “What is it, Sassenach’?” The nickname he’d always used for her had slipped out, as if their relationship was still the same as a few months before. It should have felt strange or even wrong to call her that now but, for some reason, it didn’t. He was picturing the look on her face as he said it, mouth slightly agape with surprise, whisky coloured eyes softening ever so much and of course, wild brown curls framing her face, put up in a messy bun or left loose on her shoulders, the latter being his favourite option. 

“Coach Davis called me yesterday. She wanted to know our plans for the Paris Olympics.”

Our plans, she’d said.  In truth, Jamie’s plans didn't stretch longer than what he was having for dinner that evening. That was the way he’d been living his life lately, with no plans whatsoever. But, he reminded himself, it hadn’t always been like that. Up until a few months before, going to the Olympics had been his number one goal, one he’d spent his life trying to achieve and the reason he’d left Broch Tuarach, his hometown just outside of Inverness, in the Scottish Highlands. Growing up on a farm, he’d learned to take care of the animals and look after the fields from a very young age. His dad had taught him everything about how to keep up the property, his intent clear. Jamie was to take over the running of Lallybroch when he was old enough, just as his dad had taken over the estate from his father, Jamie’s grandsire, and on and on back through generations of Frasers. But fate had other ideas. 

It had all started on a summer day when Jamie was ten years old. His parents had decided to take the whole family to Dores Beach, for a day out in the sun. His father had brought along some tennis rackets and balls so that they could play on the beach. Brian Fraser had always been a fan of the sport, and he played decently himself. That day, he first taught Jamie how to play and that was it. After only a few hours, Jamie had picked up all of his father’s tricks and was already beating him at every match. What had only started as a summer hobby quickly grew into an obsession for Jamie. His dad had signed him up for lessons that fall at the local tennis club, but soon they’d had to move to a bigger one, so that Jamie could continue his training with the best coaches Scotland had to offer.

At first, his dad would drive him to Edinburgh three, or even four, times a week and back to Inverness, but after a few months they’d had to find another, more permanent, solution. It hadn’t been easy for his parents but eventually they’d agreed to let Jamie stay in Edinburgh at a residence paid for by his club, where other promising children and teenagers also lived. So at just eleven years old, he’d had to leave his family, friends and his school behind in order to follow his dream of becoming a professional tennis player. He ended up staying there until he was eighteen, being tutored by private teachers along with the other kids, training when he wasn’t studying and doing competitions in Europe and around the world until he reached a point where his coach told him he’d have to move to London and train with coach Davis if he still wanted an chance to get to the Olympics. And so, once he got his leaving certificate, he left for London to join Coach Davis’s academy. That was where he had first met Claire, a couple of years older than him and already an established player herself.  

During all his years away, his family’s support never wavered, not even when they lost Jamie’s mom to breast cancer. He had been 16 then, and had offered to take a step back from professional tennis to go back to Lallybroch and help his dad and sister with the estate, but they had always urged him to keep following his dreams, because that’s what his mother would have wanted and because they believed he could do anything he put his mind to. So he’d made a promise to her and his dad that one day he would get to the Olympics and win a gold medal. At 23 years old, he had been so close to keeping that promise, until the day his dad had died from a sudden stroke in the middle of quarantine, and he couldn’t fly home for the funeral, being stuck in a tiny London flat. That had changed everything for him.

*****

“Coach Davis called me yesterday. She wanted to know our plans for the Paris Olympics.”  Claire wasn’t surprised when the line went silent again, but she was concerned about Jamie. She hadn’t heard from him in months, so she had been pestering Coach Davis for updates on how he was doing, desperate to get the littlest bit of information. She felt bad even calling him, but she knew she had no choice. They needed to make a decision, and start training together again if they wanted a chance to qualify for the 2024 Olympics in Paris. She could hear him breathing over the phone, so she waited, wanting to give him time to give her his answer, her stomach in knots. They had started training for the doubles tournament just before Covid hit, neither of them having done it before. But something had just clicked between them during that first practice together, and they had tried to make the most of quarantine and keep practising in the small backyard of their London apartment complex, as their coach gave them advice on Zoom. When the last restrictions in the UK had finally been lifted in July of 2021, Jamie had taken some time off to go back to his family in Scotland and spend the summer there.

Autumn had come and gone and Claire had finally admitted to herself that she missed him, and not as the other half of their team, though certainly that too. She missed his sense of humor, his kindness, his words of support when she was having a bad day or she was pissed off, and the way he smiled at her and opened up his arms for her to step into as he just held her, his auburn curls tickling her face as he laid his head on top of hers. The little moments when he would tease her about something and she’d have a witty remark to say back, to which he would just laugh, making her laugh in return. She had a hard time staying mad at him, she discovered. Even after he’d shut himself off from her, and left for Scotland, not letting her be there for him after his father’s sudden death, she still couldn’t bring herself to be mad at him. 

Mostly she just felt miserable without him, mourning the relationship they’d had before the loss that had hit him in the midst of quarantine. He hadn’t told her as much, but it was clear that not being able to be with his family during that time had taken a toll on him. She just wished he’d let her comfort him in whatever way he needed. But instead, he’d grown distant and aloof, and had begun to spend all of his time in his room. She saw him only in passing in the kitchen, on the times when he bothered to actually cook something. Most times, he would only grab something from the fridge and go back to his room. The look on his face during those days never failed to bring tears to her eyes. It was as if his eyes had lost all their light. At first, Claire would knock asking if he needed anything at all, only to be met with silence on the other end of the door. She’d even tried talking to his sister, asking for advice, trying every tactic in the book to get him to share his grief with her, but to no avail. So, she’d given up, thinking that maybe he just needed to be with his family and she was hurting more than helping him. She hadn’t tried to reach out to him once he’d gone back home, even though it broke her heart every single day to do so. 

When he answered the phone, she couldn’t believe it. She had expected him to just ignore the call but instead, he’d said her name back to her, that simple “Claire?” said with such incredulity that she almost laughed as tears of relief from hearing his voice actually started pooling in her eyes. Then, he’d asked if she was alright, and she’d repressed the urge to laugh out of sheer shock. Was he actually asking her if she was alright after what he’d been through? She’d had no answer to that, other than just confirming it. During the previous months, she’d never actually stopped to question it, preferring instead to just carry on as if Jamie’s absence hadn’t completely changed her life. To go from sharing her life with him to basically having no contact at all had been no minor adjustment, but she had done her best, forcing a smile when need be and going to the club to keep up her training, even if it did feel awfully lonely and wrong to do it without Jamie. She had spaced out, lost in her thoughts, when she heard his voice again. 

“Ye mean the promise we made to go together?”

He asked not as a question, but more as confirmation of what they’d agreed on the year before. She let a few seconds pass before she replied. “I know things were different when we decided that, and that what I’m asking is a big thing, but are you still up for it?” Getting no answer, she added “There’s still plenty of time to pick up where we left off, I talked to Coach Davis and she assured me of it, and you can think on it for a little bit, I don’t need an answer right this second” in an effort to ease his mind. She was rambling, she knew that, but she couldn’t help but be nervous. If Jamie didn’t feel up to it, she couldn’t very well force him to compete with her.  

“Claire . . . . is it okay if I think on it fer a few days and call ye back? When do we need to give Coach Davis our answer?” 

She had expected a “no” straightway so when he said he would think about it, Claire counted it as a small victory. “She needs our answer by the end of this week,” she told him.

“Alright, talk to ye in the next few days then, have a good night Sassenach.” 

Sassenach. He had used his nickname for her again, and she revelled in the way it sounded just right coming from his lips, bringing back a smile on her face, as she recalled memories of all the times he’d called her that before, since the first time they met, really. “Wait . . . .how are you Jamie?” she couldn’t stop herself from asking before they hung up the phone, desperately needing to know.  

“I canna say I’m happy yet Sassenach, but I’m working on getting there, thanks for asking.” 

She almost dropped her phone into her lap, shocked by the earnestness of his answer, but then again, they’d promised each other long ago that they could have secrets between them, but not lies, only the truth. “I’m truly happy to hear that, Jamie,” she replied, trying to keep her emotions in check and her voice from shaking. 

“Well then . . . I’ll talk to ye soon Claire,” he said before he hung up. 

As she followed, she breathed a sigh of relief as for the first time in months, she dared to hope they could actually do this.

****

“Jamie Fraser, what do ye mean you’ll think about it? What is there to think about? Call Claire back and tell her ye’re an eejit and ye’ll do the Olympics with her!” 

The sentence ended with a lot of huffing and muttering by Jamie’s sister Jenny. So caught up in the emotions of the moment as he was, he’d not even realised she had entered the room. Before he could reply, Ian’s voice joined Jenny’s. 

“What yer sister means is . . . why not take the opportunity? It’s always been what ye wanted more than anything.” 

Jamie still had his back to both Jenny and Ian as he replied “Me and Claire, we promised each other long ago that we would always be honest with each other. So I’m telling ye, I dinna ken if I can do it. I havena trained in months and I’m pretty sure I couldn’t keep up with Claire anyway and I would end up ruining the whole experience for her. Mebbe it’s for the best if she just goes by herself,” he concluded, still not turning around from his place on the sofa.

In truth, he felt pathetic and ashamed of himself for letting both himself and her down like that, but the thought of being the cause of their non-qualification terrified him even more.  

“If she wanted to just go by herself, she wouldna have bothered calling ye about it? Would she? Jenny added, coming to stand in front of him, her arms on her hips as if she was scolding one of her children, looking down on him with her jaw set and the look of someone you wouldn’t want to cross . 

”Yer sister is right Jamie, ye should call Claire back,” Ian pitched in, coming to stand next to Jenny, his tone decidedly less threatening. 

During the months he’d spent at Lallybroch, Ian and Jenny had been more than understanding with him, never pushing him to talk to them about what had happened with Claire and how he’d left her without a word, his grief back then too big to discuss with anyone, not even with the woman who held his heart. He knew she loved him and he certainly loved her with everything he had but in those dark months following his father’s death, he had felt like a shell of himself, like he wasn’t worthy of that love and devotion. So he’d first shut off from her and everyone else in his life who cared for him, and then he’d left as soon as he’d been able to, retreating back to the peace and safety of the Scottish Highlands. So when she’d called, reminding him of the promise they’d made to each other, and the promise he had made to his parents as well, he’d also been reminded of how badly he had acted towards her, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to face her again. He also didn’t want to look into her amber eyes and see pity reflected there, for the man he no longer was, the man she’d fallen in love with.

For the first time since they’d come into the room, he looked up to meet Jenny and Ian’s gaze and asked them the question he’d been asking himself. “How can I face her after what I’ve done to her? I dinna deserve her,” he added, turning his eyes back to his lap where he was still clutching his phone. 

Jenny crouched down then, and put a hand under his chin, forcing him to look at her. “Claire loves ye, we all ken it, we’ve seen it, as ye know. She’ll understand, ye ken she will,” she finished, her big brown eyes softening as she held his gaze. Ian put a hand on her shoulder, nodding along with what Jenny was saying. 

“Do I need to use the children to convince ye? Ye ken wee Jamie’s been asking when he’ll see his uncle on tv again?” She added, getting a laugh out of him, the first in a long while. 

He let a few seconds pass by before he sighed, admitting defeat, and got up from the sofa to press a kiss to Jenny’s forehead . “Alright, I’ll call her tomorrow,” he conceded. 

“Father would be proud of ye,” his sister stated, pulling him into a hug, Ian clapping his shoulder. 

Jamie felt tears prickling his eyes at Jenny’s words, and a smile forming on his lips at the thought, both of making his father proud of him, and of seeing Claire again, despite everything that had happened between them.

Chapter Text

I haven't come around in so long

But I'm making a comeback to where I belong ...

Six months since the last time he’d stepped foot into London. One quick phone call to Coach Davis to confirm he was going back, and to arrange his transfer from the airport to his apartment and another one to Claire, to tell her he was going to honour the promise they’d made to each other. One last hug to Jenny and his nephew, a kiss placed on Maggie's head and he was off to the airport with Ian, who’d offered to drive him there. 

“We’re proud of ye Jamie,” Ian told him as they stood just outside the departures area of Edinburgh airport. 

“Thank ye, mo’ bhràthair,” he replied, pulling into him a hug.  

“Give Claire our best,” Ian added, as Jamie started making his way into the airport. 

He turned around just to wink at him, his poor attempt at it making his brother in law and best friend laugh.

Hardly two hours later, he was in the car on his way to the tennis club in Wimbledon. He’d made a quick stop at his apartment so that he could drop off his luggage and there they were, approaching the place that had been his home for the past four years. She’d be there, waiting for him on the court, or he might see her before that, in the cafeteria, maybe having a snack before their training. He checked his phone for the time, noticing that he was early. Plenty of time to grab a quick lunch and then change into his tennis clothes. Only the prospect he would be seeing Claire in person again very soon meant the thought of food was making him feel slightly nauseous. Making his way into the club, his bag slung over his shoulder, he spotted Coach Davis first. She was by the bar, having a coffee, her back to him. 

She noticed him as he approached the cash register, asking for a black coffee. “ Jamie! How good to see you! Welcome back! ” she greeted him, pulling him into a hug.  

“Tis’ good to see ye as well, Coach ,” he replied, his tone sincere.  

“Claire will be so happy to see you! She’s been badgering me about you for six months!,” she added, and Jamie felt a blush colouring his cheeks at that, taking the moment to retrieve his coffee from the cashier, which gave him the perfect excuse to look away from his coach’s piercing gaze.

  “Well, I’d better go prepare for your first day back. I'll see you later!” she told him, probably sensing he needed a moment by himself to collect his thoughts. 

Knowing he was gonna regret it if he didn’t eat at least a protein bar, he got that as well before making his way to the locker room. He sat there on the bench long after he’d finished changing, until he glanced at his phone again and sighed, getting up to go to the court. Time to face the truth , he said to himself as he entered the Wimbledon training grounds. He spotted Claire right away. She was sitting on a bench, checking her phone, her hair up in a bun, when she looked up, her amber eyes settling on his, a smile gracing her lips. He started to take a few tentative steps in her direction, when he noticed she had gotten up as well and was coming towards him to meet him halfway. 

****

She heard his footsteps before she saw him, looking up from her phone to find his ocean blue eyes on her. Holding his gaze, she saw him beginning to walk towards her, so she decided to meet him halfway, not only physically but also symbolically. When he’d called her and said he was in, she had felt so proud of him. She knew it was a big step for him, choosing to go back to training after everything that had happened in the previous months. “You’re here,” She said, facing him, as if she couldn’t believe it after all the months she’d spent not hearing from him. He smiled at her in return, and she felt like no time had passed at all since the last time they were together, but also like she had to learn who he was now all over again. There were lines around his eyes that hadn’t been there before, and he had also let his hair grow out, auburn curls now falling on his shoulders. But his smile seemed genuine, and she found herself thinking she couldn’t remember the last time he had given her one. 

“I told ye, I mean to keep the promise we made to each other,”  he replied, inching just a little bit closer to her. 

“Thank you Jamie, you have to know how much I appreciate it,” she told him, daring to reach out and putting her hand on his arm, letting it linger there for a few seconds. 

“‘Tis not only that I made a promise to ye, I also made it to myself long ago,” he said, laying his hand over hers in the briefest of touches, before she let it drop to her side. 

It only lasted for a second, and yet Claire felt like her whole body was ablaze from the sudden contact of their hands. To touch him, even in the most innocent of ways, had felt like something was awakening from deep inside of her, something she had pushed away, deep down into her soul those many months ago, because it hurt too much to think about what they’d been to each other. That feeling had been replaced by an emptiness that she had never really known before. 

She was no stranger to pain, having lost her parents at just five years old, but had been too young to feel that loss on a deeper level. Now if she’d lost her uncle Lamb, who had raised her and taken her in, she was sure that she would’ve been familiar with that kind of hurt. Thankfully, he was still with her, living close by in London and retired after years spent traveling around the world as an archeologist. Egypt was where she’d first discovered her talent for tennis. Among the sand of a desert encampment, she’d joined some of the children who were playing with makeshift rackets. To their surprise (and hers as well), she’d beaten them all in the span of just a few matches. She could remember her uncle watching, a proud look on his face, and her smiling back at him, attempting a bow and making him laugh in return. But the life of a nomad didn’t exactly align with that of a professional tennis player, so Lamb had decided they would relocate to England, where he’d taken up a post as university professor in Oxford, while she split her time between her studies and training to become one of the very best in the sport. She had been 11 years old then, she was now 27, which meant she had spent more of her life in a tennis court than she had travelling with her uncle. After starting in the junior leagues, she had made her way to the big leagues, deciding to go and train with Coach Davis, who had a reputation for being the very best in the market. 

Claire had met Jamie when she was 23 years old in her coach’s academy, and they’d started to play together at her suggestion. “I want to combine the individual strengths and weaknesses of two great players to create an even stronger team,” she’d said, so they’d given it a go. And the rest is history, as they say. “We make a good team, Sassenach,” he told her after they had won their first competition. She remembered blushing at that, and diverting her eyes from his. That was the day she started looking at him differently, noticing just how blue his eyes were, how the sun touched his auburn curls, making the redder bits stand out and the way he always drummed his fingers on his thigh when he was nervous, especially before a match.  

“Are you guys ready to start warming up?”

Their little moment was cut short by Coach Davis arriving at the court, folder in hand and a big grin on her face. Claire looked at Jamie for confirmation, and when he nodded, she turned to face their coach and nodded as well.

****

“Lead the way, Sassenach,” Jamie gently prompted her, gesturing towards the net. 

She rolled her eyes at him in response, before making her way to their places. As he took his place too, he realised how natural it felt to just go back to their old dynamic, made of mutual teasing and more serious moments, like when they were playing or discussing important matters. With that thought, came once again the guilt he was feeling for his part on how things had been between them in the previous months. What if he’d just let her in on how he was feeling at the time? Where would they be now? 

They’d shared a short moment of closeness just minutes before their coach arrived. She’d thanked him for being there and laid a hand on his arm. His body had naturally responded to her touch and he’d briefly placed his hand over hers. She’d reacted by taking her hand off his arm almost immediately, looking anywhere but at him. She’d never shrunk away from his touch before. But then again, it was to be expected. After all, he’d hurt her deeply, he knew that. He could only hope he'd be able to regain her trust, at least in the court, as that was essential to be a good team.

They started their warm up with some basic stretching, Jamie’s muscles twitching as he realised just how unfit he was. Not training for six months will do that to ye, he thought bitterly, regretting his sister’s attempts to drag him out of the house to do some exercise. Ye better pray that ye can still play tennis, he said to himself as he picked up his racket. The weight felt familiar and foreign at the same time, but the handle still fit his hand like a glove, and he took a moment to trace his hands across it, memories flooding back to him the more he held onto it. He tried a few practice swings, looking at Claire on his right hand side, giving him a thumbs up. 

“Ready?” Coach Davis asked them. 

He looked over at Claire once again, and she nodded. “Aye,” he told their coach, before both of them took their positions, Claire in front, serving and him in the back . 

As the afternoon went on, they took frequent breaks to drink some water, talk about things they needed to improve with Coach Davis, and to re-adjust to playing together. They used to be able to read each other’s minds, both on the court and off, but that was before. Jamie knew he was the one to blame for that changing, and that he had a long road ahead of him to make up for it. They were packing up their things to leave for the day, when Claire approached him. 

“You did good today,” she told him, looking up at him, her curls framing her face, a stray one escaping the confines of her bun. 

He reached out to tuck it back in, silently cursing himself when she took a step back at his gesture. Now ye’ve gone and made things uncomfortable again, ye eejit, he said to himself yet again. “I’m sorry Claire, I overstepped,” he apologized, his eyes searching for hers to let her know he meant it. 

“It’s okay Jamie,” she replied when she finally returned his gaze. 

“Thank ye for bearing with me, I ken I’m no’ as fit as I was,” he said, switching the topic back to practice. 

“Well, like I said on the phone, you have plenty of time to get back in tip top shape,”  she told him, but then she hastily added “ Not that there’s anything wrong with your form now, I didn’t mean it in that way.” 

“Aye, I ken what ye meant Sassenach, dinna worry about it,” he reassured her, briefly meeting her eyes once again before picking up his bag and going back to the locker room. He saw Claire again just outside the club, the two of them ready to part ways for the night. “I’ll see ye tomorrow, have a good night,” he told her, just before she turned around to make her way home. 

“See you tomorrow Jamie, rest up,” sh e echoed, and headed towards her apartment, which was only a short distance away from the club. 

Not knowing if he would ever return to London permanently, Jamie had decided to give up his room in the flat he shared with her, and had only found a room in place a little further away from Wimbledon. He waited until she turned a corner, and then willed his feet to move from the pavement, getting into his uber.

****

Claire had just turned the corner, feeling Jamie’s eyes on her the entire time, biting her lip to resist the urge to look over her shoulder for him. Stepping into her apartment, she was once again reminded of the empty room beside hers. In the months since Jamie’s departure for Scotland, she had felt awfully lonely there. The first few days after he’d left, she’d catch herself waking by his room, her first suspended in the air in a knocking motion, before she realized that she would no longer find him in there. Even now, when months had gone by, her first instinct as she arrived home was to look for him. 

Jamie had first moved into the apartment just before Covid hit, having been forced to move out of his lodgings due to renovations to the building. So, she’d offered her spare room to him, and he’d accepted. The impossibility to go out, and go to the club to train, had compelled them to spend an awful lot of time together, even more than usual. They played tennis in their little backyard, cooked (well Jamie did, she mostly just set the table and helped in the slicing of vegetables and cleaning up afterwards), and watched movies and tv shows on the sofa. They also talked about everything, from small things to serious matters, like their families and their hopes and dreams for the future. Jamie told her about the promise he’d made to his parents to win a medal at the Olympics, and about his mom dying a few years back. She reciprocated by telling him about losing her parents at an early age and growing up with uncle Lamb. At times, they would accidentally fall asleep on the sofa, their heads touching and their legs intertwined under the plaid. She had never told Jamie this, but, one morning, she’d just woken up when she felt him press a tender kiss to her forehead, as light a feather. She’d felt his lips linger there for a second, and pretended to be asleep. 

Another time, she had been the one to initiate physical contact. He’d fallen asleep as they were watching an episode of Grey’s Anatomy, and she’d reached out to briefly trace the lines of his cheek and jaw. One of those nights, he’d received a phone call from his sister, Jenny, who was worried about keeping up the family business (a distillery in the Scottish Highlands) with the tourism industry closing down because of Covid. She’d seen Jamie’s own worry written on his face, and it pained her that she couldn’t do anything to make it better. Wanting to give him some privacy, she’d gotten up to go to her room but he’d grabbed her hand and mouthed “Stay,” his eyes honest and pleading, so she did. Her hand never left his, as to say “I’m here for you,” without using words at all, his thumb absentmindedly tracing circles on her hand the entire time he was on the phone. 

Just before they parted for the night, he’d raised her hand to his lips, kissed the back of it, and murmured a single sentence “Thank ye,” his ocean blue eyes staring into hers. At that point, their faces had been mere inches away, their knees touching and her hand still in his. “I would . . . I’d verra much like to kiss ye, Claire, may I?” He’d asked, his voice barely a whisper. “You may,” she’d answered and scarcely a second later. Jamie’s lips had been on hers, tentative at first, but growing surer when she put a hand to his cheek and deepened the kiss. In that moment, she realised she had never put a name to all the feelings he stirred up inside of her. To this day, she still couldn’t, but it was still there, much as she wanted to pretend otherwise. She could only hope that her heart was strong enough to handle being with him again, even if it was just as a teammate, and with time, a friend.

Chapter Text

Where's the trophy?

He just comes running over to me

June 2024 - French Open Tournament, Roland-Garros Stadium, Paris

Almost two years. That was how long it had taken them to get to this moment. For Jamie, it had been two years of trying to get back into shape, to learn how to move on the court again, and generally to get his mental health under control. Coach Davis and Claire had suggested he start to see a therapist to work through his feelings, stressing the fact that it was crucial for him to be in the right state of mind to face two years of competitions. His sister Jenny had actually tried to suggest the same thing back in Scotland, but he hadn’t been ready then. Coach Davis had referred him to a friend of hers, Dr. Joe Abernathy, who specialised in grief counselling, and told Jamie to contact him whenever he felt ready. He had drafted and deleted the email several times before he actually hit send. The initial nervousness Jamie had felt about meeting his therapist had vanished the more he talked to Dr. Abernathy. He had a way of being direct but not judgemental, a great sense of humour, and he never once treated Jamie with pity. 

Therapy had not only helped him to face his own feelings and process his grief, it had also given him the confidence he needed to believe in himself once more. Dr. Abernathy had taught him that depression wasn’t something he needed to be ashamed of or a sign of weakness, and that letting go of the guilt he felt for his behaviour during that time, especially towards Claire, was the key to go forward. It hadn’t been an easy process, nor a short one, but day by day, he had started to put the missing pieces of himself back together. Every word of encouragement from Claire, every smile or thumbs up she gave him, every light touch on his shoulder, helped him get there. His family had been an enormous help as well, cheering him on from afar as he started to win his first competitions since coming back to the sport. And of course, Coach Davis had been a big help as well, first by not giving up on him, and then by supporting him as he regained his rightful place as one of Great Britain’s top tennis players. He still talked to Dr. Abernathy, even if not as often as before, mostly to discuss his feelings after a win or a loss or if he was feeling particularly nervous before a competition. He had talked to him just that morning actually, hours before the final singles competition at the French Open, his final chance to secure a spot for the Paris Olympics. 

As a mixed doubles team, he and Claire both needed to qualify in the singles events to get picked as the team representing Great Britain. One spot. Being a mixed team, they had one chance of being the two people who would occupy it. They could do this. He knew it. Over the previous two years, they had put everything into their training and perfecting their technique, to the point where they could now read each other’s mind, both on the court and off. 

Long days at the court had led to him spending more and more nights at Claire’s apartment. It’s close to the club, thus convenient to avoid the traffic in the morning and get a little more sleep in before practice, was what he had told himself. The truth was, even after spending all day with her, he still craved her company. Six months in, Claire had been the one to suggest he just move back, since he spent more nights there than at his own place anyway. Honestly, Why waste the money? She’d told him, with a cheeky smile. The fact that she wanted him back in her personal space had been just enough to convince him. 

At first, he had been worried that being in the space where he lived through some of the darkest times of his life was going to weigh on him. When he had informed Dr. Abernathy of his decision to move back in with Claire, and of his worries related to that, his therapist had assured him that if he was ready for that step, then he had no cause to worry. The old man had been right, of course. He and Claire would leave the club after training, head home or go grocery shopping, share a dram or a glass of wine and talk about random things just to take their mind off their job or if they weren’t too tired, watch Bake Off on the telly, commenting on the contestants' dishes, no matter that Claire couldn’t bake to save her life. Slowly but naturally, they fell back into their old banter and settled into an easy friendship, never addressing the elephant in the room. Jamie had tried to apologise more than once, and ask for forgiveness, but she’d simply assured him that there was nothing to forgive, even when he insisted that he wanted to make it up to her. Having regained Claire’s friendship was all he could ever ask for, but a part of him still mourned the loss of her as his lass, his life partner and lover. His Sassenach . 

But how could he tell her that, and risk losing everything they had just gotten back? He couldn’t. Not with the Olympics on the horizon, not after the sacrifices they’d made to be where they were. Not when their dream was just within their reach. If that was to be his punishment for how he’d treated her, so be it. He would rather have her as a friend and teammate than nothing at all. 

****

One more set, just one more. Eyes glued to the court, Claire briefly met Jamie’s eyes from her seat in the front row of the Roland Garros Stadium, giving him a reassuring smile. He had won the first two sets, and the exertion from the effort was evident on his face, but there was also a fire there, a fierceness she hadn’t seen in him in a long time. Her own final was going to be the following day, so thankfully she was able to be on the stands to watch Jamie’s match. Watching him move on the court, she couldn’t help but be fascinated by the way his broad shoulders flexed when he was swinging his racket, the crooked smile on his lips when he scored a point, and the way his jaw and brow were set deep in concentration as he played. 

As the third set began, with the first points being scored by both Jamie and his opponent, Claire sat on the edge of her seat, hands laid flat on her knees in an attempt to keep them still and avoid clutching the railing that stood between her and the court. She almost couldn’t hear the crowd cheering around her, with the way her heart was beating so loudly inside her chest. 

“Matchpoint,” the umpire announced. 

Jamie said his score out loud before he began his serve. When he raised his racket, and the ball bounced once before he hit it, her breath hitched in the throat. She saw his opponent throw himself on the ground, in an attempt to catch it. But she knew . Jamie had just won his final match of the French Open. 

Tears sprung from her eyes as she stood up and joined the rest of the stadium in their applause. Jamie was crying as well as he looked around the stadium, soaking in his much deserved moment of glory, before his eyes landed on hers. You did it , she shouted, unable to contain her joy for him any longer. She saw Coach Davis pull him into a hug before she noticed him making his way towards her, grinning from ear to ear. As soon as he was within reach, she wrapped her arms around him, squeezing tight. “I’m so proud of you,” she whispered into his ear. He let out a sound between a laugh and a sob as he held her, his arms around her middle. 

“I couldna have done it without ye, Claire,” he told her, stepping back from their embrace to look into her eyes. 

I love you. She forced herself not to say it. “Go get your prize, champion,” she said instead, gesturing towards the court, the words she really wanted to say stuck in her throat. 

Two years had gone by, and she had watched Jamie pick his life back up, pouring everything he had into their training, along with starting his mental health journey. He had apologised to her countless times, asking her forgiveness for shutting her out after his father’s death. She had told him there was nothing to forgive, and it was the truth, because she’d forgiven him a long time before that. It hadn’t been a choice so much as a natural reaction of her love for him. She just couldn’t bring herself to say those words, because she couldn’t risk her heart being broken again if he didn’t say it back. They had come so far, she didn’t dare risk it all just to have him back in her life as her partner, her Jamie, and hers only.

****

The following day  

Ye got this, Sassenach. Jamie was drumming his fingers on his thigh, watching Claire play her final match of the women’s tournament. It had been a relatively even match and her opponent was good, a very strong player, one of the best in the world actually. But so was Claire. She had nothing to fear. He had told her so the previous night. She’d insisted that they have one celebratory drink at the hotel bar to toast to Jamie’s victory. “We’ll have another dram tomorrow, to celebrate ye, I ken it,” he’d said as they clinked their glasses together. She’d looked at him over the rim of her glass, her eyes alight with hope. 

Did she have any idea of what she did to him when those amber eyes of hers looked into his? He felt seen, right to his soul, and warm, at home. Once he had let her in, the support she had given him was what had got him through the years of therapy and the hard days of training. He just hoped he had given her even a small part of it back. He was in awe of her always, but especially in that moment, as he watched her prepare for her opponent’s serve, eyes fixed on the ball. I believe in ye, Claire. He repeated it in his head like a mantra, as he watched her respond to every one of her opponent’s serves, never missing a single ball. 

“Matchpoint.” Claire’s opponent announced her score and got ready to serve again. 

Their scores were almost identical, so this point would declare the winner. C’mon Sassenach! He wanted to shout, but he refrained himself from doing so, knowing she would kill him if he blew her concentration. He watched the ball go through the net into Claire’s court. She hit it back with a force he didn’t know she possessed. Fierce wee thing. Her opponent barely had time to react when the ball flew right past her. He shot up from his seat then, along with the entire stadium as they all cheered for Claire’s victory. She found his eyes among the crowd of people approaching her to offer their congratulations, Coach Davis included— the tears in her eyes mirroring his own. 

“That last serve! Ye’re a wonder, Sassenach!” He told her, as soon as she was close enough to hear him. Her cheeks turned a bonny shade of pink at that. God, she’s sae beautiful. What he wouldn’t  give to kiss her again, to hold her in his arms. Well, he could act on the last part at least. “Come here,” he told her, pulling her into his embrace, letting out the breath he didn’t know he was holding when he felt her arms around his middle and her head on his shoulder. He planted a kiss on her curls. “ Tha gaol agam ort cho,” he murmured softly into her hair, speaking his heart to her in a way he could only do in Gaelic. If she heard him, she gave no indication of it, and he decided it was better if she didn’t know the meaning of what he’d just said, for both of them.  

“You do realise what this means, right?” She asked, beaming at him.

“We’re going to the Olympics, Sassenach,” he replied, wrapping his arms around her once again. 

Chapter Text

Cause the sign on your heart

Said it's still reserved for me

Honestly, who are we to fight the alchemy?

Mixed Doubles Olympic final, Roland Garros Stadium, Paris, 2nd of August, 2024

23 minutes into the final, Claire and Jamie had managed to win the first set out of 3. 

They had arrived in Paris at the end of July, a few days before first rounds. The opening ceremony had been nothing short of spectacular. Their arrival by boat on the Seine had been welcomed by cheers from people from all over the world. Jamie had taken out his phone to FaceTime Jenny and Ian, to let them into that unique moment. At one point, he’d called out for her to say hi, putting his arm around her shoulder, the biggest grin on his face and his auburn curls flying in the wind. She just had to frame that moment, so she had taken a picture, meaning for Jamie to send it to Jenny and Ian. 

Since then, she had found herself staring at that picture in the rare moments she was alone, mostly at night, and it never failed to bring a smile to her own face. She had long since admitted to herself that she wanted more with Jamie, or rather she wanted him back fully, not only as a friend and teammate. 

But was she bold enough to tell him that? 

Before the start of the second set, she had looked at Jamie briefly over her shoulder, finding reassurance in his smile. However, that set had been a different story altogether. Their Chinese opponents had stepped up their game and managed to win, evening up the score. 

The chief umpire called the 10 minute intermission then, and as they reached the sidelines of the court, she heard Jamie mutter something in Gaelic that sounded a lot like a series of curse words. The Chinese had surprised them at matchpoint with a strong backhand, effectively claiming the set. Now only one set remained, the tie break. 

“As you’ve seen, we can’t underestimate the Chinese but we can use their weak points to our advantage. There’s power in their serves but sometimes they can’t harness it correctly so use those occasions to claim it for yourselves.” As they listened to Coach Davis’ advice, they looked at each other, their minds aligning on what they had to do to take the gold medal home. 

****

At the lowest point in both his life and career, Jamie thought he would never play professionally again, let alone get to an Olympic final. But they had beaten the Germans in the first rounds, then the Japanese team during the quarter finals and the Canadians during the semifinals. Now, here they were, only one set separating them from winning a gold medal. “No matter the result, we’re sae proud of ye, and I ken Ma’ and Da’ would be too,” Jenny had told him the night before, when she’d called to wish him luck before the big final, making him promise to call them afterwards. 

“And tell Claire we’re proud of her as well,” she had added, her tone hinting that she wanted him to talk about her. 

“I ken what ye want to hear Janet, and no, me and Claire are not together, as in a couple,” he’d anticipated, trying and failing to keep his voice neutral. 

“Why not ye numpty? It’s been two years! Ye’ve even been living together! I ken true love when I see it, and yer face says it all brother. We do watch all the matches, and the way ye look at her even during a game makes it so obvious! And ye’ve told me how she supported ye and stood by ye all this time! Now, I’m telling ye that if you let her go, ye’re an eejit! ” She’d finished, huffing over the phone. 

“What yer sister means is, ye should be honest with her,” Ian had pitched in, mediating between him and Jenny as usual.

Harsh as his sister’s words were, she was right. Not that he would ever admit it to her. He did love Claire, had even told her so in Gaelic (which was cowardly of him), and it wasn’t as if she hadn’t heard it from him before. But he was afraid, mostly that she wasn’t ready to trust him in that way again, even if everything she had said and done over the previous two years had proven the opposite. Now the question was, was he bold enough to lay open his heart to her?

****

9 to 8. Time seemed to stop as the Chinese hit the ball, smashing into the net, giving them the final point. Victory. Claire dropped her racket on the spot, turning around to leap into Jamie’s waiting arms. Her tears mixed with his as he held her tight, making her spin before putting her back on the ground. She met his eyes then, the blue in them like a sea she couldn’t wait to drown into. Feeling bold, she framed his face in her hands, tracing the line of his cheeks, his jaw and finally, his lips. 

His hands covered hers, and in an unspoken agreement, they both leaned in until their foreheads touched.

 “I love ye Claire,” he whispered to her, so soft she almost didn’t hear him. 

“I love you,” she replied, bringing a hand to his chin, tilting his face upwards to catch his gaze again. Lost in their own moment, they suddenly became aware of the entire stadium cheering for them, the reality of what they’d achieved still not sinking in. 

Time passed in a blur from then. They hugged Coach Davis for several minutes, shook hands with numerous people, and accepted congratulations from others. Soon they were standing on the highest step of the podium, gold medals around their necks and eyes glistening with tears as they listened to “God Save the King” and watched the UK flag being hoisted up onto the pole. 

Celebrations were to be held in their honour back at their village, and surely back in London as well. They would spend hours surrounded by people, teammates, coaches and other athletes. And Uncle Lamb would also surely expect a call from her. But all she really wanted at that moment was to be alone with Jamie. Thankfully, he seemed to have had the same thought, as he pulled her by the hand into a secluded corner of the stadium before they made their way outside. 

****

“I couldna wait to get ye alone, Sassenach,” he told Claire before their lips crashed together in a heated kiss. A groan escaped both of their lips, one of his hands sinking in her hair and the other on her backside. Her own hands wandered all over his back, before lodging onto his shoulders, gripping them as he held her against the wall. “I’ll never let ye go again, if you’ll have me,” he told her as they broke apart, his hand coming up from her back to reverently caress her cheek. 

“I promise, I’ll always have you Jamie. Welcome home,” she replied, sealing her amber eyes onto his, before claiming his lips again. 

In that moment, he realised that they might have won a gold medal at the Olympics, but the biggest prize of all would always be the one in his arms.