I remember watching the panel with Sam and Cait at ECCC, and my jaw hit the floor when he said “you can read about that on tumblr later” – as much as we feel we are pissing in the wind, they DO read, they DO watch. Twitter is full of sycophants, IG is similar, tumblr is where fans let it all hang out. It’s the pulse of the fandom. Caitriona’s apology was written nearly word for word on tumblr. No wonder cait has changed so much since the engagement. She knows what many fans think of her now. I don’t doubt it for a second anymore….. and yes, I would be avoiding fans, too.
My plea to Cait is girl, return to your roots. A weird photo shoot with Tatler doesn’t count. We are not fools. I am an educator and an herbalist- not your typical “fangirl” type. I am nearly her age and know it must be hard to be so guarded about her life – I feel that I am in my prime and enjoying setting my best foot forward as a representation of all wisdom I have gathered thus far. Time to shake off the chains and be the woman so many of us thought you were. Doesn’t mean you have to tell us everything- just be sincere when you do.
They sat together on the narrow little cot above Jamie’s print shop. Hand in hand, facing one another, faces bright with excitement and love. His question had Claire’s face lighting up all the more, a broad smile pulling at her lips. She gave his hands a squeeze then released them to dig through her pockets. He waited, eyes wide, gaze reflecting concern because she hadn’t answered yet. But then she produced a curious little package, her smile impossibly wide as she held out a little pile of… some sort of thick paper.
“These are photographs. I won’t explain the science to you, but… well, Brianna sent them with me. She wanted to be sure you’d have a chance to know them.”
“Them? Brianna?” The name rolled awkwardly off his tongue and he frowned even more at his wife.
“You asked me to name the child after your father. She was the first born, so she was named Brianna. What’s wrong with that name?”
“Oh- so I did, Sassenach. Sounds a bit strange on yer tongue. I would say it- Brrrrianna.” He offered her a grin, though it shifted back into a frown a second later. “Ye said first born?”
Claire beamed at him all over again. She scooted closer. “So I did. Twenty-seven minutes after Brianna was born, young Jamie joined his sister in the world.”
“Young J-” Emotion welled up within him and his eyes glazed over with tears. “Twins, then? I have- a daughter and a son?”
She laughed softly, her own eyes filled with tears, and leaned in to tug his head down for a kiss to his forehead. “You do, my darling. Look at the photographs. You can see what they’ve looked like through the years.”
“I can see them?” Eager now, his gaze dropped down to the photos and he made a strangled noise at the first one, a black and white photograph of Claire holding both Brianna and young Jamie as babies. He held the photos out, for tears had begun to roll down his cheeks, and he clearly feared getting them wet. “Which one is which?” he asked.
“Brianna was on the left, there. Jamie on the right. Just wait until you see them. Flip through more.”
He did. A laugh escaped him at the sight of two three year olds with fiery red hair, the two of them dressed only in their clouts with birthday cakes smeared all over their faces. Young Jamie was reaching out toward his sister, the two of them grinning wide. He continued to flip through the photographs, pausing to wipe his face on his shirtsleeve every once in a while. Claire had a handkerchief in her own hand, unable to fight her own tears back as she watched the emotion play in her husband’s features.
The last was a polaroid photo from just a few days before Claire had come back through the stones. Jamie and Brianna stood next to one another, hopeful smiles on faces that were nearly identical to their father’s. They each had an arm around one another, but the other hand was lifted in a wave. Jamie left that photo on top as he carefully returned them to the plastic bag they’d been in, carefully closing it before lifting it to press to his heart.
Jamie turned his tear-filled gaze on Claire and let out a shuddering sigh. “They’re so beautiful, Claire,” he whispered. “Tell me about them?”
She laughed out a soft sob and reached up to dab at his face with her handkerchief. “Brianna… went through a phase where she was into history. But then she changed her degree to engineering. She’s bloody brilliant, Jamie. And so is he. He-” Her cheeks flushed and she beamed at him all over again. “He went to school to be a doctor. She takes after you more. She has your temper. Well- he has a temper, too, but… he’s more relaxed. He has a very good bedside manner.”
“Oh, aye. Better than yer own, I take it.”
She snorted and slapped him lightly. “There is nothing wrong with my bedside manner, thank you very much. But Jamie- he’s softer. He has a sweet heart.”
“Aye, good. Good, I’m glad. Have they- a lad or a lass in their lives?”
Claire hummed at that and told Jamie about Roger. “He’s a good boy. Utterly smitten. He’ll take care of her, and Jamie is there to make sure of that. He has always been fiercely protective of us both. He takes after you in that way. He hasn’t found a woman yet. The sweet boy has been so focused on his studies. I hope he finds someone good, who will take care of him.”
Jamie sighed and draped an arm round Claire’s shoulders, pulling her in close. “He will. He’s had a good example. A Dhia, Sassenach. This means everything to me. Thank ye, mo nighean donn. Thank ye for seeing them safe.”
She leaned up to kiss him softly. “Thank you for the gift of them. Oh, Jamie, I wish that you could meet them.”
“I will,” he whispered against her lips, hugging her tight against him. “In my dreams, I’ll meet them.”
She held his hand as he lay pale against the sheets. Her Uncle Lamb. The man who raised her, loved her, taught her. Friend, Father, Teacher, Mentor.
She would miss him so much.
He stirred against the pillow, head rolling from left to right.
“What can I get you, Uncle?” She cupped his face gently, hoping he would look at her, see her.
“Have you seen my pack, Girl? I can’t go without my pack.”
Her eyes filled with tears. His pack. It was the last thing he picked up when he left for a dig. He carried it everywhere, was never without it.
“It’s here, Uncle Lamb. Right next to the bed.” And it was. She reached down, lifted it up, set it in his line of vision. “See? Right here, ready to go.”
“Ready,” he said, with a sigh. “I’m ready.”
“Uncle Lamb!” she said sharply.
His glazed eyes looked over at her. And for a brief moment, he was there, conscious, focused, present. “I love you. Thank you for everything. I’ll miss you.”
“Love you, too, Girl. You were a good daughter,” he said, smiling.
Tori