Lioness // Outlander (Completed)

Prologue.

Claire sits, for the first time all day, alone at the table in her office. She can faintly hear Jamie moving around in their room next door, pacing back and forth, waiting for her to come to bed, to discuss the plan once more. He can wait now, there's a few last things she needs to do. There's a candle lit next to her to give her just enough light to see her words spill onto the paper in front of her as she writes.

John McGreeves, two fractured fingers on the left hand. Dressed and set. Advised to let heal to regain mobility.

The glass of whiskey still sat half full, untouched. She'd didn't have an appetite for much, the stress of the past few days had taken its toll on her and food seemed to be the last thing on her mind. How had it come to this? After everything, how have we ended up here?

Glen Camran, broken nose from fighting his brother. Again. Re-set but will likely always be misshapen. Yarrow to be chewed to relieve pain in back tooth, from being hit a second time by his brother.

She leaned back in her chair and watched the shadows from the candle dance across the room. How she'd miss this, the home she'd always dreamed of. How she'd miss the smell of bacon cooking in the morning, the sound of Jenny shouting her orders to the children, Ian's wooden leg hitting the floor as he'd chase them around. Most of all though, she'd miss the wee hours in the early morning, where the sun would just start to fill the room. Faith, having snuck into bed next to her, lying on her chest, red hair gleaming, Jamie keeping a warm protective arm over them both. Those few still hours in the mornings she'd miss the most, where the world and it's problems couldn't touch them, the buzz of the stones couldn't be heard and war wasn't on their doorstep. If she could freeze time, she'd freeze it there, with her little family happy, and safe.

But she couldn't do that, and what had been fated to come will always come. She picks the glass up and takes in the rich, warm smell of the Whiskey. I'll miss this too, she thought, and threw it back in one. It burned on the way down till she felt it pool in her stomach. She picked the quill up, she'd need courage she wasn't sure she had for this, the last entry of the day, but she must.

Ceit Gall. Approximately twenty and six weeks with child. Healthy pregnancy, mother of young, fertile age.

Perhaps the whiskey wasn't such a good idea after all, she could feel it bubbling in her throat, threatening to spill back out, she clenched her teeth to keep it down and carried on writing.

Went into labour on the evening of April 14th. Labour was troublesome and long. Significant blood loss and labour refused to progress. With assistance, she delivered a son, whom was born into heaven. Patient haemorrhaged soon after. Gauze and abdominal massage was applied, death was inevitable.

The quill went back to it's final resting place and she waited for the ink to dry. She could feel the weight of the small child in her hands then, lighter and much smaller than any baby she'd ever held, half the size her daughter had been. She thinks about his small body, wrapped in the blanket, a few sparse eyelashes and the smallest button nose. Ceit had visited Lallybroch a few times since Claire and Jamie had come back, she was kind in a way that Claire knew she was destined to be a mother. She sent word in the winter to say she was finally with child, and if Claire would be so kind as to assist the birth in the summer. Sweet Ceit.

With worn out arms, Claire shut the book, the one that held all of the accidents and incidents she'd seen to in her time here at Lallybroch. She'd made it to look back on, to see if there was anything she could have done differently, but now it would be left for others to read, for Jenny to follow in treating the children for cut knees and headlice. It was all there, in her book, the herbs she used, where to find them and how to use them, it would be the  last trace of her being there.

The candle had almost reached the wick and it would be dark for many hours yet, the moon high and round in the sky. Claire stood then, and with the last of the light she smoothed her shift over the slight curve of her stomach. Barely there, but still, there. Their lives had been briefly calm when they returned from France, they settled back into their place at Lallybroch in peace. Then they received the news that Jamie had been identified as a Jacobite by Bonny Prince Charles himself, and the war had come for them once again. She hadn't time to think about her courses, that had always come on time, never late nor early. It had never crossed her mind when it didn't come at all, and now it had been three months. She hand't had to tell Jamie, he had already knew, and they both knew what it meant for their family, and the price they must pay to keep them safe. But that was for tomorrow, or a few hours yet at least. She blew the candle out, touched the old, oak table one last time, she said good bye to it now, and thank you. Tomorrow, she would prepare to say good bye to everything else.