(new) haven - a 7x04 story
“Do you recognize anything here from your own time?”
Claire slowly sipped her stew. “Maybe if we were closer to the university. Frank took Brianna here quite often – he so enjoyed the Harvard and Yale football games, and it was always difficult for me to take time off from the hospital. But I remember the oldest section of the university was constructed well before the Revolution.”
Jamie fidgeted with the spoon beside his own untouched bowl of stew, watching the entrance to the tavern. “So the university still stands.”
“Yes – it’s considered one of the best in the country. The city grew, too. After the Revolution, New Haven became an important port for whaling ships. Lots of money. Then the United States industrialized and…well. Its fortunes still hadn’t turned by the time Bree came here on a solo trip, not too long before we came to Scotland and met Roger.”
The lieutenant they had gotten to know on the ship from Wilmington – a kind and excessively cheery fellow – ducked into the tavern, scanning the crowd.
“I could say something about you allowing our daughter to travel here alone,” Jamie whispered, eyes fixed in the lieutenant.
Claire smiled wistfully. “She was visiting a friend from high school. They ate white clam pizza.”
He turned to her, brow furrowed. “Peet-zuh?”
“Ah!”
Jamie and Claire turned – and Lieutenant Hubbard sat himself at their table.
“So delightful to see you both without the ship heaving beneath us!”
Jamie pushed away his bowl of stew. “Eat this. My stomach still hasnae caught up to my legs being on land.”
The lieutenant heartily tucked in. “If you insist. I never much cared for tavern fare at home, but compared to the absolute slop on the ship…”
Jamie tensed. Beneath the table, Claire lay a comforting hand on his thigh.
“Tell me, Lieutenant – now that we’re here, do you think it really will be two weeks before we set out for Ticonderoga?”
“One week, two weeks, three weeks,” he shrugged, slurping the stew with gusto. “We need to re-supply, and wait for another company of men to join us from Georgia. Messengers can get their dispatches through, but with the roads as they are…”
Beneath the table, Jamie’s hand settled atop Claire’s. “There must be an apothecary here in New Haven. My wife will have need of medical supplies.”
Hubbard nodded. “Not too far away from the inn where we’ve been billeted. I suppose being an officer does have benefits every now and again. The rooms are a bit small, but it’s the last privacy I’ll have for a while. It’s two hundred miles – with all the men and animals and equipment, perhaps fifteen days?”
Claire twined their fingers together. “Sounds about right.”
Hubbard set down his spoon, wiping his mouth with the back of one sleeve. Surprised. “You’ve marched with an army before, mistress?”
Jamie squeezed her hand.
“I have. More than once.”
They waited –
“Well then. You won’t faint at the sight of blood. All the more reason to have you with us, even though you’re a woman.”
“She’s fixed me and my men more times than I can count.” Jamie’s voice was calm, but Claire felt anger in the grip of his hand. “There’s no one else I’d trust wi’ my life.”
Hubbard stood. “Good. Fraser – we’ve a council meeting to attend. The quartermaster is providing his report.”
Not caring one whit about Hubbard or any of the other men in the room, Jamie Fraser kissed his wife goodbye, long and proper.
“I’ll see you at the inn, Sassenach.”
She smiled, and bent to gather her basket as they both stood. “I’ll be waiting.”
--
“Well, I guess your appetite is back.”
Jamie swallowed another mouthful of bread, and cut a hunk of cheese with Claire’s knife. “Did you get greens for me to eat as well? I dinnae want the scurvy.”
Claire unscrewed the canteen and set it next to her husband on the small table. “Not tonight. But you’ll need to eat whatever I give you when we’re on the road. We don’t know what’s ahead.”
He picked up the canteen and sniffed. Face lighting up with joy.
“Whisky?”
She smiled. “The innkeeper’s wife. Her daughter suffered a nasty burn while cooking yesterday. I examined it and made her a poultice. And asked for a canteen of whisky as payment.”
He took a sip. “You’ve always been a canny one.” He held out the canteen to her. “Drink up now. I ken you want to.”
She smiled, taking the canteen from him, deliberately sliding her fingers over his. Watching him watch her take a sip.
He cut another hunk of cheese. “How much have you been thinking about Charles Stuart’s army these past few days?”
She took another sip of whisky. “Too much. I see their faces.”
“Aye, I do too. Though this army is much better supplied. And we know victory is sure.”
She rose and stepped around the table to stand in front of him. Without a word, he began undoing her laces.
“The French will come though this time, Jamie.” She untied his neck cloth.
“Aye, Hubbard was speaking today of it. Ships have come with gold, and men, and money.”
Her bodice fell to the ground. “A good thing you speak French so well. What about the other men?”
He stood and pulled her closer, hands warm on the bare skin of her chest. “Just one colonel at the council today. Perhaps some of the soldiers.”
He ducked down, leaving slow, open-mouthed kisses along her neck and clavicle. She shivered, pulled him closer with her left hand, her right hand undoing the laces of his breeches.
“Why do you taste so good?” he breathed.
“Maybe it’s the whisky,” she smiled, untucking his shirt, grazing her fingertips over the plane of his belly and the thick hair below.
He skimmed his nose up her jawline, meeting her lips in a searing kiss.
“It wasnae like this when you came back to me,” he gasped, cupping her breasts as she teased the root of him with her thumb. “Only – ”
“Only at the very beginning.” Her breath was short and shallow now, eyes closed, picturing him laughing above her in the heather. “When we couldn’t stop.”
He stole her breath in another kiss. “I cannae stop now, Claire. Are you willing?”
She pulled away. Met his shining eyes, surrounded by the lines and creases of joy and sorrow and so many incredible years together.
“S'il vous plait.”
He slid off her shift, and she pulled off his shirt. He stepped out of his breeches, and bent to pick her up. Her legs wrapped around him, and they crossed the room as they kissed and kissed and kissed.
“Je t’aime,” he breathed, setting her so gently on the bed she thought she might cry.
“Je t’aime,” she replied, over and over and over again.
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