Chapter Text
"Perhaps we could have had a life. A home, children, simple days. Maybe fate stole that time from us... but it granted us another chance."
October 30, 1767 – Laird's Room, Lallybrooch
The morning light barely filtered through the sheer curtains, painting the room a rosy hue.
The scent of the aromatic herbs Jenny had thrown into the fireplace had faded. Claire had insisted the window be opened for a few minutes to let in some fresh air, and the crisp late October wind had swept into the room, bringing with it the pungent smell of rain and wet leaves.
From the internal courtyard came the voices of the tenant farmers who had now begun their daily work in the fields.
Inside the laird bedroom a hush of perfect calm enveloped them.
Loaded with tiredness, promises and dreams of a long-awaited peace.
The silence was broken only by the light breathing of the child, the smallest of the three hearts that occupied the room.
Claire sat on the bed, her back supported by soft pillows. Her eyes were heavy, but her body was still alert, shaken by that nervous energy mothers know well: a combination of euphoria, exhaustion, and a fierce, overwhelming tenderness.
She didn't want to give in to sleep. She couldn't. Everything Claire wished for was to make this moment last a little longer.
Just being lost a little bit longer in that overwhelming joy.
Time would just stand still so she could have more time to contemplate her newborn son in bliss.
Peaceful silence.
But Claire had to stay alert. That's what she had done with Faith and Bree. That's what she would do for her baby boy, too.
For Sander.
-I wish I had a camera right now. You're so beautiful, my love- she whispered. A silent tear ran down her face.
I wish you would stay small forever. Safe in my arms. I wish you would never know any suffering, any pain. I wish you would be mine and your father's forever. For eternity and more.
Her fingers barely touched the perfect features of her youngest child: his fine copper hair, darker than Jamie's, Faith's, and Brianna's, but equally breathtaking.
Like fire on embers. Flashes of bright red like fire on a dark canvas.
Sander’s eyes were closed, but once opened, they would be a deep blue. Bluer than the Scottish sky.
He had long eyelashes and slightly protruding ears, like Faith, and large hands with long fingers, like his sister Brianna.
His nose was straight and delicate, like Claire's. Sander had a handful of freckles on his face, from the Beauchamps. And Claire had been delighted.
Uncle Lamb would have been proud, the woman thought. One of the defining traits of her family, of her parents, now had new life in her son.
Otherwise, Sander was a flattened Fraser.
The shape of his strong chin was very similar to Jamie's. As was his strong build. He had been born big and robust. Healthy. Seven pounds and four ounces of vigor, for a length of a good twenty inches.
-Alexander James Fraser…- the woman repeated aloud the name that, finally, she and her husband had agreed to give to their son.
Just because she wanted to hear it out loud, to make sure again that he was real.
-…welcome to the world. You've arrived after a lifelong journey. And I wish I could take a photo of you because you're perfect, my Pumpkin-.
Her perfect wee laddie. Her Autumn baby. Born at the edge of midnight on a late October night.
The baby stirred slightly and made a strangled noise. Claire pulled him closer, placed a kiss on his damp hair, and closed her eyes for a moment.
-Look, Jamie. He's already learned that big-headed look of yours.-
In Alexander's face, she saw Faith again, fragile and silent. She saw Brianna, red and strong.
And now Sander was there in her arms: small, warm, alive. Safe forever.
Jamie lay down next to her on the bed, putting one arm around her while his other hand stroked her shoulder.
-A photo?- he asked. -Like those light portraits you brought me when you came back? The ones of Bree? Of our daughter?-
Claire nodded. The mere mention of Brianna made her heart falter for a moment. Her daughter was safe in 1968, but still far away, two hundred years away. Eternally fossilized in a space-time bubble where she and Jamie were not. Above all, Brianna was unaware she had a baby brother. She would have been unaware that she had become a big sister. The most painful certainty for Claire was knowing that her two children would likely never meet.
Then Sander stirred in his sleep against her chest. And Claire felt the melancholy evaporate from her in an instant.
She nodded.
-So we could relive this moment forever- she explained to her husband.
Their hands clasped together. Their gazes still fixed on their miracle.
Jamie sighed with relief.
Finally.
Claire was alive. The birth had been difficult, but it had gone well. Their son was safe. And he had been born in the laird's room, where he himself had come into the world forty-six years earlier.
-Oh, I don't need a photo to capture this moment- he whispered. His large hand still trembling as he touched Sander's auburn hair.
By now he was accustomed to his wife's mentions of the future and modern inventions. Sure, Jamie had to admit that some of the modern gadgets Claire had described seemed really useful and convenient, but he was certain he would never, ever need a camera.
Because he already remembered every single frame of his life with Claire.
I remember when I saw you for the first time. I remember every moment. Every second. I will never forget you. Before you, my life was black and white. Then you came along, and suddenly, it had color.
His Claire.
-I'll remember how you look tonight for all my life, mo nighean donn-.
He then leaned over and touched her forehead with his lips, almost afraid he had dared too much. That he had disturbed her.
He'd seen her in the most excruciating pain. Doubled over by contractions, she'd screamed the worst insults in the world at him and his wee swimmers. He'd watched, with terror in his eyes, as the sheets were stained red with blood. He'd held her tightly, unable to give up.
He had truly feared losing her this time.
But now all that pain was behind them.
Nothing mattered anymore.
He kissed her, this time on the lips.
-And I will remember every single frame. Every moment, every breath of our son. I don't know how to thank you for this blessing.- The man wiped away a tear and touched the newborn's plump cheek. -My sweet Sawny. I've buried so many people... but now, Sassenach, now I know all is not lost. When everything is black and white, your color's exploding. There's something in the way you shine that lets me know for sure I don't need a camera when you and him are in my eyes, in my gaze, in my heart and soul. I wish my Ma’ and Da’ were here, to they could see how much he looks like them. I wish Willie could be here, to hear the name I chose for my son.-
Claire, tired but alive, smiled through tears of emotion.
Her heart skipped a beat.
She loved them. She loved them with all her being.
Her men. Her auburn-haired, soft-hearted Highlanders.
-Oh, Jamie,- she murmured, kissing him on the lips and trying to convey all her happiness. -I love you, soldier-.
-I love you too-.
Jamie bumped their noses and inhaled his wife's scent.
Milk, honey, and cinnamon. It was intoxicating, he was intoxicated. And now their son smelled of her, too.
Sander had the smell of his mother on him, brave and strong.
It felt like home.
Of their love.
And so we're no longer two.
Us means more than me and you now.
It had already meant it. But this time it was different.
When they separated, her husband got out of bed, careful of every movement so as not to disturb mother and son.
But Alexander had already woken up. He let out an indistinct groan and made a face so similar to Jamie's when he was annoyed by something, it made his mother smile.
-Look, he looks so much like you. He has the same serious expression as you.-
She brought the baby's face close to hers, and mentally counted the breaths he took.
Then her eyes, ever vigilant, scanned Sander with the obsessive attention of a doctor.
His skin was still a little red and wrinkled, but that was normal after the difficult natural birth. His breathing was regular, his color good. He was warm and soft, and he certainly wouldn't complain of hunger for another two hours.
The whole time, it was just the three of them left in those four walls.
Claire hadn't allowed anyone to touch the baby; she held Sander close to her chest, unable to part with him. Of course, Jamie himself had cut the cord, using his dagger. Jenny had cleaned the baby with a cloth soaked in warm water: the blood and vernix caseosa had been removed, and then the baby had been placed against Claire's chest.
Six hours had passed since then, and no one had bothered them again. Although the woman suspected Jamie had something to do with it.
Jamie, who now watched them with quiet amazement, a hint of concern in his gaze. His blue eyes scrutinized both her and the newborn eagerly.
He hadn't picked up the baby yet.
Claire had noticed, but for the first few hours she'd preferred not to say anything. Now, however, the thought of Jamie's excessive attentiveness made her smile.
-Is he okay, right?- Jamie asked in a croaking voice. As if he expected the baby to disappear at any moment or start coughing and stopping breathing.
-He’s fine- she replied, trying to sound convincing.
I know, it's all normal. And yet... I'll check him again. Just to be sure.
The Apgar was irrelevant. This was no patient. This was her son.
She lifted Sander up enough to hear the baby boy's breathing again, and only then did Claire calm down.
Faith had never breathed in her arms. And with Bree, she hadn't had the man she loved beside her.
Now, however, everything was different.
She had it all. A living child in her arms and the love of her life kneeling beside them, in eternal contemplation.
-Jamie…- she asked -do you want to pick him up for a while?-.
Despite the adrenaline, Claire felt incredibly exhausted. The pain in her lower abdomen was still there, though dulled. She was sweating, and at the same time, cold shivers were shaking her. Her breasts were hard and sore, and her bones ached.
She shivered and Jamie was quick to hand her another blanket, tucking her in tenderly.
-I can call Jenny. She'll bring you another hot herbal tea.-
-Jamie- Claire shook her head. -You haven’t picked up your son yet- she insisted.
Her husband stiffened, as if his bones had turned to stone. His large hands moved slowly along his sides, hesitant. He looked at the newborn with full eyes, but full of what?
Fear? Reverence?
-I don't know if...- he began, then stopped. He lowered his gaze, almost embarrassed, and avoided looking at her face. -I don't want to hurt him. Christ, he's so small that... that my hands could break him even just by touching him.-
Claire looked at him with infinite tenderness.
-Hurt him? Jamie, darling...- she laughed softly, her voice thick with weariness. -You've been through wars, prisons, hunger, years of loneliness... you've held wounded men in your arms, runaway horses, swords... and now you're afraid of your own son?-
Jamie clenched his jaw, his gaze fixed on the sleeping bundle of joy in Claire's arms.
She was born to be a mother. Oh, Sweet Mary, he could watch her wife hold their baby in her arms for hours and never get tired.
But him? He had never actually held a newborn baby that belonged to him.
Not Faith, nor Brianna.
Only Willie, but it had been a completely different situation: he had done it for protection, not to acknowledge him as his own.
-Because all of that… was mine to deal with. But this… this is too much. He's too perfect, Claire. I'm afraid I'll ruin him just by breathing near him.-
Claire looked down at the baby, then back up at him. She understood.
She understood everything.
It wasn't fear of the baby. It was fear for their living child.
Jamie was already tied to that baby boy with every fiber of his being. Sander was his blood, his bones, his flesh, his soul, his heart, now living outside of him. And the thought of holding him close and then losing him, even for a moment, was a fear Jamie couldn't even name.
He and Claire wouldn't have survived another loss.
Because it had already happened, more than once. With all his other bairns.
Faith who he had never held close, not even for a minute.
Brianna, who he had given in to another man for love.
Willie who couldn't call his own.
But with wee Sander it was different.
He was his and Claire's in every nuance and he belonged to them.
Claire leaned forward and held out the newborn to him.
-You held Jenny and Ian's six children. He won’t break, I promise-.
Jamie hesitated again. But then, slowly, he sat down on the bed beside her. Claire turned around, and with confident, delicate movements, placed that small, warm bundle in his arms.
Her husband took him as if Sander was made of thin glass.
He was sacred to him.
Jamie didn't say anything. He looked at his son's face, and at his hands, which were trembling slightly as they held him.
Sander was relaxed against his father's chest. His rib cage rising and falling rhythmically. His lively little eyes now scrutinizing his father's face.
Jamie closed his eyes, lost in that contemplation. That small weight felt like the greatest treasure he'd ever carried.
-I've dreamed of you all my life, mo chridhe- he whispered. -I didn't know I'd been waiting for you, and yet here you are.-
The strong hands of the man who had held swords, spades, dying souls at war… now trembled with happiness and amazement.
-I don't know if I deserve you, mo mach,- he continued, holding his son against his heart. -But I swear… that nothing in the world will touch you or harm you as long as I'm alive. I promise you that. And the promise of a Fraser is the one of an honorable man.-
The wee laddie was now waving his little hands in the air, and Jamie immediately held out a finger. Sander squeezed it with surprising strength, and Jamie gasped.
A six-foot-three Scottish warrior who was at the mercy of a tiny wee laddie a few inches tall!
-You are my life, mo chridhe. Sawny. Ma’ and Da’ love you so much. And you have a brother downstairs who can't wait to meet you.-
Sander gurgled happily and the little one's blue eyes fought with the light of the room.
Jamie smiled, unable to stop. Completely captivated by his son's beauty.
-That's true. Oh, and your sister Bree… you'd know her from the stories your mother and I tell you. Give us time, my laddie, and you'll know everything. Your Ma’ is an extraordinary woman. She fought so hard to keep you here with us. You'll soon learn that she's downright stubborn.-
Claire looked at them, her heart full. The pain, the blood, the exhaustion: everything had evaporated in that room filled with milk, tears, love and silence.
Jamie leaned over her and kissed her forehead.
-Excuse me? You insult me and then kiss me?-.
Her husband stared at her in surprise. A mixture of mockery and disbelief painted his face.
-Aye. And this wee laddie is as stubborn as his Ma. I can already see it-
-You mean like his Da’. Red hair, stubbornness, and the Fraser charm.-
They kissed again. Claire's hand tightened on her husband's lapel.
-Mmm… stubborn…- Jamie muttered when they separated. -He sure is.-
Now the little one was fussing again. Red in the face, he was emitting a high-pitched, loud cry.
-You can’t be hungry already!- Jamie soothed his son. -Your Mama just fed you! You’re such a stubborn wee thing…-
-Your son isn't crying because of that. I have to change him- Claire informed him.
Jamie's eyes widened.
-Now? But… you just…-
The woman didn't even let him finish and tried to get up.
-It's better to check everything. Newborns have very dark discharge for the first time, called meconium. It's normal, but I need to see...-
Jamie was immediately beside her, ready to support her.
-Rest now, Sassenach. I'd be crazy to make you get up after giving birth to my son. Just tell me what to do and I'll do it.-
She smiled, amused by his resolute tone. Was he serious? Jamie had certainly never stopped to changing a newborn's diaper.
-Okay. Get the bowl of warm water and those clean cloths. Keep his head well supported and slowly undo the bandage. He's fragile, but you won't break him, I promise.-
Jamie did as he was told, his huge, clumsy hands barely shaking. As he lifted the fabric, the baby let out a soft whimper... and an unexpected jet of urine shot up, soaking his father's shirt. Jamie was transfixed for a moment, then burst into laughter, blushing.
-By all the saints! This… you shouldn't do these things to the one who gave birth to you, Alexander.-
Claire burst out laughing, while Jamie stared at her with an almost hurt expression on his face.
-It just means that Alexander’s kidneys are working perfectly fine- she explained, professional and ironic at the same time.
Jamie looked at the wee laddie with eyes full of love.
-Aye… good lad. Is everything okay, I hope?- he asked, looking at the dirty diaper. -Right?-
Claire leaned forward.
Sander was lively and bright. And the meconium was thick, odorless and dark green.
-Yes- Claire nodded. -Everything’s fine.-
They both breathed a sigh of relief.
With increasingly confident movements, following Claire's instructions, Jamie managed to thoroughly clean the wee laddie and swaddle him again. When he picked him up, still damp with excitement and life, the baby stopped crying and buried his little head against his father's tartan.
-Ssshh Sander, everything's under control here- then he handed the baby back to Claire.
She watched him carefully, holding him close. She'd spent hours after giving birth checking everything about Sander: his color, his breathing, his skin tone, his reflexes, his crying. She'd touched his tiny fingers, checked his little nails. She'd changed the first bandage three times, because it wasn't soft enough, not snug enough, perhaps too tight.
Every movement was recorded, analyzed, and then logged in her mind's diary. Her medical brain was on constant alert, but her heart was elsewhere. Completely overwhelmed by the love she felt for that newborn son.
She loved him madly and the mere thought that Sander might get sick, or that he might suffer in this life tore her apart.
-Claire,- Jamie murmured, breaking the silence. -You've checked his breathing five times in the last ten minutes-.
He looked at her tenderly and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
She snorted, hiding a smile.
-I'm a mother. It's my job to worry.-
Jamie sighed at his wife, one corner of his mouth raised.
-And me? I worry so much I shake when I hold him in my arms. Christ, I wish I could keep you both locked in this room forever, but I know I can't.-
Claire leaned over, and softly kissed him on the temple.
He closed his eyes for a moment.
-God, my Lord, help me. I don't want to fail him.-
-You won't- Claire replied without hesitation. -Because you love him. And because I'm here with you. Always.-
Jamie looked at the bairn again. Then, without realizing it, he began to caress him gently, with instinctive, natural movements.
-Claire…-
-Yes?-
-Sawny is a miracle. And if he is here alive… then maybe God hasn't forgotten me.-
-No, Jamie Fraser- Claire whispered. -God listened to you. Finally.-
Sander settled closer to her breast and she inhaled the newborn's scent.
-And speaking of God...- Jamie approached the trunk by the bed and pulled out the case of the twelve apostles' spoons. -He gets a spoon, too. Faith has the spoon of Saint Andrew, the patron saint of Scotland. Fergus has the spoon of Saint John, the apostle of love and spiritual adoption. And Bree... well, she's not here, but I saved the spoon of Saint Thomas for her.-
Claire frowned. There had never been any secrets between her and Jamie, but her husband had never made that confession to her. She knew that apostle spoons had been passed down through the Fraser family for years. So it wasn't surprising that Jamie had assigned one to each of their children.
-You never told me that before-.
-There's never been a chance to do that. I always thought that if Bree were here… well, I would have given her a spoon. After all, our daughter is an engineer. St. Thomas was a rationalist, someone who believed in what he could clearly see-
-Jamie-
-What?-
-You are an exceptional father-.
-Aye,- Jamie smiled smugly and leaned toward them again. He kissed Claire's head, then Alexander's.
-But this wee laddie is different from his siblings. As he should be-
Sander gurgled, content to be held close to his parents.
-He is- Claire cooed with infinite sweetness. -It's our treasure. Our second chance. Which spoon did you have in mind for him, darling?-
-Saint James- he replied solemnly, showing Claire the chosen spoon. -The patron saint of travelers and pilgrims. Sander, my son, let him guide you. May he accompany you on the path of life, as he has accompanied me, who bear his name, Seamus.-
He kissed the icon of the saint on the spoon and placed it against Sander's bandages.
Proud look, heart full of joy and pride.
-I entrust you with my very name, mo mach ruadh. My family, my clan, my land. You are a wee traveler of life, born between two worlds like your mother, but with strong roots like your father. May you always find the way, the courage, and the arms that welcome you upon your return-.
-We love you so much, Pumpkin. Always remember that.- Claire bumped their noses and kissed Sander on the tip of his nose. The little one let out a happy noise. He was falling asleep again, cradled in his mother's arms and warmth.
He was adorable, perfect, delicate.
And he was theirs.
-Your Mommy loves you so much- she repeated, kissing him again.
-Give him to me Sassenach- Jamie urged her. -Now you can rest. I'll take him to the hall so he can meet his brother Fergus and all his cousins-.
Clare was determined to no give up her baby boy.
All the love I feel for him and his father… does it ever stop?
She had just held him in her arms. Sander needed her. How could Jamie suggest she leave him? Even for just a few hours.
-I'm fine, Jamie. Don't worry. You don't need to take him-
-Aye- the Scotsman's gaze lingered on Claire again.
His wife was yawning and struggling to keep her eyes open.
His Sassenach was a wee stubborn thing.
-But you really should rest now- Jamie said in a firm voice.
But Claire was still focused on the bairn.
-Oh no- Jamie gently twisted Sander, holding him to his chest. -Your Ma’ really needs to sleep now. Mrs. Maclaren just gave birth. She could nurse him if you were still asleep when this wee devil starts whining.-
-James Fraser don't you dare- Claire glared at him.
-What? I remember my own nanny, Claire. Her name was Lorna, and she was a loving woman-.
-Our son will only be breastfeed by me and no one else-.
-Okay- Jamie conceded her, no without making a face. -But at least let me introduce him to the rest of the family. Jenny is dying down there in the hall. She wants to hold her only nephew. We'll come back when Alexander is hungry, so you can breastfeed him yourself.-
Claire kissed her son's coppery head.
-Sander, my love. Will you be good for a few hours?-
As if he recognized his mother's voice, the wee laddie let out a faint cry.
-I take that as a yes, mo mach ruadh- Jamie said, his voice filled with tiredness and love. -Now go to sleep, Sassenach. You'll find us sitting next to you when you wake up.-