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Chapter Text

One of Anne Fraser's first memories is of her father, sad. She didn't know how she knew he was sad at the time, the memory didn't preserve that fact, but she knew he was. This memory was how she knew Jamie Fraser was hardly ever anything else. Sometimes there would be fleeting moments where she'd look into his eyes and see something which resembled happiness, but more often than not, he was sad.

“Why does Da always look sad?” she'd asked her Aunt Jenny one night as she was being tucked into bed. Jamie had been to visit their home of Lallybroch earlier that day to drop off some meat he'd hunted and have his monthly shave.

Jamie didn't live with them, see. Anne didn't know why. She wanted to know why her father didn't live with her when all her cousins got to live with their father, but no one would ever tell her. All they'd say is it would make sense when she was older and then they'd remind her not to tell anyone that he was out there. They were connected somehow, she just didn't know how yet.

It was her Aunt Jenny and Uncle Ian who she lived with, who raised her. They treated her no differently than they did their children. It made her wonder what the difference really was, why she had to call them Aunt and Uncle instead of Ma and Da. Her brother Fergus wouldn't even explain it to her and he was a Frenchman, not a Scotsman— or so some of the other children around Lallybroch said (not any of her cousins, of course).

“Because he is,” Aunt Jenny told her that night, making sure she was properly covered by her blankets. “He lost yer Ma and he lost a lot of friends in the Battle of Culloden.”

Lost, she thought, is a strange way to say someone was dead. Lost things could be found. How could you find someone who was dead?

Of course, she was still young and didn't have the best understanding of death and what it meant. And she certainly didn't know that lost was the best way to describe what had happened to her mother. Because, after all, lost things could be found. Some were just hard to find than others and time and patience were all you needed to find it.

But Anne was not totally satisfied by her Aunt Jenny’s answer. She knew the Battle of Culloden happened a long time ago now and she'd never been sad about anything for that long. There was more to it than she'd been told, she decided, it wasn't as simple as Aunt Jenny had told her. She would need to go elsewhere for information so she went to the only place which came naturally to her. She went to her big brother.

Fergus was older than her, he knew all kinds of things. He'd know the answers to her questions. He knew her mother, after all.

The story Fergus told her filled in some of the gaps. He told her how no one had ever loved anyone as much as her parents had loved each other. There was no connection greater or more profound than the one shared by Jamie and Claire Fraser. Soulmates, he told her. That was why he was so sad all the time, he had lost a part of his very soul when he lost Claire. So it wasn't just another person he was sad about losing, it was a piece of himself as well.

When Anne was older, she'd learn better than to take her brother's words at face value. He was prone to embellishing, especially in stories. But part of Anne could never believe he was embellishing about this. She understood missing a part of herself, missing half her soul. She'd lost her twin sister before they'd even come into this world. The idea of being sad for years and years began to make more sense. If she'd gotten to know her sister before losing her instead of just feeling like she was always missing something, she might be sad for years and years too.

It was when she was just a little older, very nearly nine years old, when she learned why she couldn't tell anyone about her father still being around, about how he lived in the woods and hunted for them. 

Aunt Jenny had been too insistent on making sure she was as far from the yard just out the door of Lallybroch. She was her mother's daughter, though she didn't know it at the time, and she was observant, even if she couldn't always explain how she knew the things she did about people. Aunt Jenny wanted her away from the yard, the entrance to Lallybroch, and she couldn't understand why. Chore after chore after favour that day, some and then most as the day went on differing from her usual chores. Something was going on. Something was going to happen and Aunt Jenny didn't want her to see it.

Which meant, naturally, Anne was going to be sure she saw it.

She found a spot on the upper floor of Lallybroch at a window which overlooked the yard. At first what she saw confused her, it was simply Aunt Jenny feeding the chickens. What about this couldn't she see? She'd fed the chickens before. Then a man appeared in the archway which led into Lallybroch and at first, Anne didn't recognize him. She narrowed her eyes, studying his face, and then her eyes widened as she realized it was her father . He was clean shaven and his hair had been cut. His clothes were different and there was a cap on his head. Something else she couldn't identify was different about him, perhaps the look in his eyes or the way he was holding himself. Something was off.

Jamie called out to Jenny, prompting her to finally turn and look at him. She was sad already, Anne could tell, she just didn't understand why. Her father visited Lallybroch at least once a month for a shave, if not more frequently to deliver meat to them, why would Jamie being here make Aunt Jenny sad?

Pulling the cap off his head, Jamie said, “It's me. I've come home!”

His arms were spread wide as if he was going to hug Aunt Jenny, something Anne had never seen her father do, as he entered the yard, heading for his sister. He looked happy , truly, not just flashes and fleeting moments. It almost made Anne want to run down to the yard and throw her arms around her father. Perhaps he would even hug her back, hold her like she'd always wanted. Maybe he'd finally figured out how to keep living with half a soul.

But then she looked at Aunt Jenny. She should have been just as elated as Anne about Jamie's behaviour, she should have been opening her arms for the hug Jamie was offering. Instead, she still looked just as sad. Why would she be sad about this?

That was when the men in the red coats — the British — came out from where they were hiding, their guns all pointed at Jamie, at her father. Jamie's expression turned to disbelief, then panic as he looked around for some escape and, when he found none, it turned to anger as he looked at Jenny once again.

“No, Jenny, no!”

Aunt Jenny didn't answer. She just stood there, allowing them to keep pointing their guns at Jamie. How could she just stand there? Why wasn't she doing something to stop them? Or, she realized, the better question was why had she let them in? They hadn't all come in the same way as Jamie. One voice, the one which spoke next, was even coming from directly below her. He'd been in the house.

“James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser,” the unknown voice said. She'd never heard her father's full name before. “Otherwise known as Red Jamie. You are hereby under arrest for high treason against His Majesty King George.”

“Not my own sister!” Jamie spat at Jenny as a man in a red coat grabbed him.

“Put him in the irons.”

“How could you?” Jamie questioned Jenny.

“This is yer own fault!” Jenny called back to him. “Ye brought this on yerself!”

“Well done, madam,” said the voice of the man who'd laid out the charges. He was standing next to Aunt Jenny now, holding a coin purse out to her which Jenny took without looking at him. “You’ve done a service to the crown.”

Anne didn't speak to Aunt Jenny for two weeks. She didn't understand why she would do this, how she could give up her own brother. Sure she'd been sad about it, but she'd still done it. Anne couldn't imagine ever giving up Fergus to people who would hurt him and take him away for anything, let alone money.

She was determined to never speak to her aunt again and everyone in Lallybroch knew it. Which was why Uncle Ian sat her down one evening, exactly two weeks after she watched her father be hauled away by men with guns. He explained to her what really happened, how her father wanted them to have the money turning him in would get them, how Aunt Jenny hadn't wanted to do what she did, how it had killed her to do it. They needed the money, he'd told her in a quiet voice, and Jamie knew it. At the end of the day, her father would always protect the people he loved in any way he could, Uncle Ian continued, whether that be by bringing them meat or allowing himself to be captured so they could have the reward. That was what Jamie Fraser did. Anne promised her uncle that she would forgive Aunt Jenny and the next morning, she did just that, speaking to her for the first time in a fortnight.

The next years of her life passed by in normalcy. Her family grew, as did her own interest in plants and healing. Anne's most precious possession was an old book, handwritten, with sketches of plants which could be found both near Lallybroch and far away, instructions on how these plants could be used in healing and more broad instructions on healing in general. While there were other books on healing in the library of Lallybroch, this one was special for the name written just on the inside of the front cover: Claire Fraser . The book had belonged to her mother.

Anne didn't know near enough about her, only hearing bits and pieces from Fergus and what he remembered of her. But to know her own interest in healing was something she shared with her mother made her feel closer to her than anything else ever had.

The book was a near constant companion of Anne’s. It remained in her room, not with the other books in Lallybroch, not on a shelf but the table next to her bed. She brought it with her whenever they had reason to leave Lallybroch in hopes of seeing one of the plants within. She would bring it with her when she ventured beyond the walls of Lallybroch in search of the plants which were said to grow nearby, always returning with a full basket.

As Anne grew up, Aunt Jenny began to teach her what she knew of healing, some of which she knew had been taught to her by Claire, for the very same things were written within her book. She may not have been able to describe what her mother looked like or remember her face, but when she held that book, ran her fingers over the neat handwriting within, she could feel close to her. Her parents were both gone, but she still had this book.

She was twenty when her father returned to Lallybroch, no longer a criminal, no longer needing to hide. He looked almost exactly as Anne remembered him to be on that last day she'd seen him. His hair was longer, but the smile on his face when he saw Aunt Jenny again was the same. There was still a weight on his shoulders and still something which Anne could only identify as the missing half of his soul which had remained with her mother, but he wasn't the same man she had visited in the woods when his presence was a secret they couldn't explain to her. She understood now, just as they said she would, what the Battle of Culloden had truly meant, what the repercussions were.

When Jamie first looked at his daughter for the first time in eleven years, there was a moment, brief, barely a few seconds, where he didn't recognize her. He hadn't seen her since she was a child and she had grown much in the years he'd been gone, she didn't blame him for not immediately knowing who she was. She'd been preparing herself for this moment, reminding herself that there was no way he could know who she was when he hadn't seen her grow up. But the moment passed quicker than Anne had expected, his expression softening immediately as his eyes looked over her face as if she would be ripped away at any moment and he would need to have her face already committed to memory.

“Anne?” he said softly, as if not daring himself to hope.

She managed to nod, her voice caught in her throat. She didn't know what to say to him now, how to tell him it was her without making him feel worse for the reasons why he didn't recognize her. There were already tears gathering in his eyes and her own, what could she say that wouldn't make them both start truly crying?

He touched her cheek first like he was checking that she was real, as if, after the reunions with Aunt Jenny and Uncle Ian, she would be the one who wasn't real. She couldn't place the exact emotions in his eyes any longer, why his gaze had almost gone distant or what was going through his head. She held her breath, waiting for him to realize she was really there , waiting for him to work through whatever was going through his head, just as afraid of spooking him as he was of her not being real.

Then, like the sudden overflow when a cup was filled beyond its capacity, Anne was in her father's arms. His arms held her tightly and her face pressed into his shoulder as she wrapped her arms back around him. For the moment, the decade they'd been apart didn't matter, the little they knew about each other anymore wasn't even a consideration. He had come back, finally. He was home and they were together.

After Jamie had finished his reunions or first meetings with the rest of his family who were gathered at Lallybroch, he was finally allowed to enter the home once again. Dinner was a time for catching him up on all he'd missed and with how the Fraser family had grown, there was a lot for him to learn. Anne sat quietly next to Fergus, only occasionally chiming in on some of the stories being told. She didn't know how to speak to her father but she was content to just watch him, see him smile. She'd never gotten to see him smile this much, before.

When dinner was done, Anne retreated to her room and the safety of her mother's book. As she sat on her bed, running her fingers over her mother's name, she thought about those words she had once been told, how her mother was lost. Hadn't Jamie been lost when he was in prison and yet returned? She knew better what they meant now, she wasn't a child any longer. Was it naive to hope her mother would return to them, too?

“Ye still have it.”

Anne whirled around, clutching the book to her chest as if she needed to protect it. Jamie was standing in the doorway, watching her with another unidentifiable look in his eyes. She was beginning to wonder if it was truly unidentifiable or if she just didn't know her father well enough to read him. Only time would tell, she supposed.

“What?” she asked, confused and too startled to realize he could only be talking about the book she was clutching protectively.

“Yer mother's book,” Jamie explained.

“Oh,” she said, looking down at it. “I always have it.”

“I remember the day I first saw ye w’ it,” he continued, taking a step into her room, a soft, far away kind of smile growing on his face. “Ye were in the woods. I thought ye were hurt, at first, the way ye were knelt down.”

Anne nodded, remembering that day. “I was lookin’ for a plant from the book.”

“Aye,” Jamie said, his smile widening when he realized she remembered too. “Ye showed me what ye were looking for, pointin’ to yer mother's drawings, her handwriting. You were so excited and ye looked so much like her.”

“Is that why you looked like you were in pain?” she asked. “You always looked sad but that day it was… more than that. I almost thought I'd done something wrong.”

Silence fell between them as if Jamie didn't know how to respond to that, how to reassure her or even explain. There were a couple empty beats of silence before Anne realized what she needed to do next.

“I never blamed you,” she said quickly, taking a step closer of her own. “Not for bein’ sad or not bein’ w’ me. I didnae always understand but I didnae blame you. Especially not after Fergus explained it to me.”

“Fergus?” Jamie asked.

“He told me how you and my mother were soulmates and when she was lost, ye lost half yer soul with her.”

Lost, always lost. Never gone, never dead. Lost things could find their way home again or be found, lost things could return. It may have been the naive, childish hope of a little girl who couldn't be with either of her parents, but Anne didn't care anymore. She had always wished for her father to come back to her, to get to be with him and be a family and now he was here. She couldn't give up on her mother now.

They adjusted to a new normal at Lallybroch with Jamie home. Anne spent many hours just sitting with him, learning about each other, how to have a relationship again, a proper one this time. She asked him about her mother, her book clutched in her arms, and Jamie would tell her, finally. He would tell her stories of their adventures and sometimes he would get a pained look on his face until he looked back at her and whatever he saw on her face would ease the pain a little. She didn’t understand at first, not fully, until one late night when Jamie finally confessed just how much she looked like her mother, especially when she wore her hair up and out of her face as she was so prone to doing while completing her chores. No one had ever told her that before. 

And she understood then what it was in her face which so often soothed her father’s pain. It wasn’t just that being with her allowed him to hold onto something which reminded him of the love he’d lost, but he could see her when he looked at her face. And not just her, but them , himself and his lost love, the lost half of his soul. It hurt to know Claire was lost to him, but she could never be far away if Anne was by his side.

Perhaps it was because of this realization that she didn’t understand what her father chose to do after his first New Year’s celebration back at Lallybroch. She’d watched happily as he danced with Marsali and Joan MacKimmie while she danced with her cousins as had become their tradition and was glad to see him so happy for so long. It was still rare to see him smiling so much, even if he didn’t look as sad as he used to as often. 

She knew of their mother, Laoghaire MacKimmie, though they’d never properly met. As extended family through the MacKenzie side, she and her children had been invited to celebrations such as these in the past but Anne had never had the courage to speak to Laoghaire. It seemed as if from the moment she realized who Anne was, she’d been angry beyond Anne’s understanding. She glared with an anger which couldn’t be explained, at least not by Anne. She had never done anything to Laoghaire, not as far as she was aware or could remember or even could be explained to her and yet her anger remained.  She’d thought to ask her father on that New Year’s Eve, but he was so happy and she couldn’t bear to sour his mood with something she was already used to ignoring.

Though Anne knew of her aunt’s attempts to convince her father to remarry now that he was home, she hadn’t expected him to finally give in and ask Laoghaire to marry him. It had only been a few months since she got him back and he was rushing off to leave her again? And to make matters worse, he seemed to know without her having to tell him that Laoghaire hated her and yet he was still choosing her.

For a while, Anne thought she must have done something wrong and it was her fault that her father wanted to leave Lallybroch so soon after returning to it. And when she was reassured by Fergus and Aunt Jenny both that this wasn’t the case, her sorrow and worry turned to anger. How could her father choose this? How could he abandon her so soon after reuniting with her? What could he possibly be thinking?

Mostly because she knew she wouldn’t be entirely welcome but partially because of her anger, Anne didn’t attend her father’s wedding to Laoghaire MacKimmie. And when Jamie began to prepare to move to Balriggan to live with his new wife and daughters, Anne delivered him the same treatment as she had to Jenny so many years ago and refused to speak to him.

Jamie tried to apologize, he truly did. He promised her he’d visit and write to her when he couldn’t make it to see her, he tried to tell her she’d be welcome to visit him even though they both knew it wasn’t true. He promised, with his hand on her shoulder as she looked away from him, that he’d always come if she needed him and tried to assure her that this wasn’t about her, he wasn’t running away from her. But she knew it wasn’t about her and that was why she was angry.

True to his word, Jamie did visit Lallybroch when he could. The first time he came, Anne remained determined and didn’t speak to her father. He seemed hurt all over again and it almost made her want to give it up, but she was still hurt, too. But by the second time he visited, Anne missed him too much to continue with the silent treatment. He was her father and she’d been without him for too much of her life to purposefully shut him out. The smile on his face when he realized she was speaking to him again was almost blinding and she knew she’d never be able to keep hating him. She was still mad, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever not be mad and she may never forgive him for making this choice, but she couldn’t hate him and she wouldn’t let it get between them anymore.

He came for her twenty-first birthday, the first they'd gotten to celebrate together since he was arrested. She was looking forward to it more than she was willing to admit and everyone seemed to know it, although Fergus, predictably, was the only one to call her on it.

At the appropriate time, Jamie presented her with the gift he'd gotten for her. She didn't think much of it, at first, even though it was more than lovely. A simple silver pendant on a chain, ovular in shape and with the phrase leannain inscribed on it. Sweetheart. She was beyond touched, beyond pleased to be finally receiving a birthday gift from her father and she threw her arms around him before immediately requesting he help her to put it on.

“Hold on just a moment, leannain ,” he told her. “Open it.”

Her brow furrowed, not understanding the request he had given her until she saw the clasp on one side and the hinge on the other. She opened it eagerly, seeing a small cutting of a blue flower she immediately recognized held within. It was dried, so as to preserve it, and pressed safely under what had to be glass so as to keep it in its place. But Anne would have known that flower anywhere, for she'd been looking for it for years and never been able to find it for herself.

“A forget-me-not,” she realized, running her thumb over the flower. “Just like in Ma’s book.”

It was the first entry, the first page next to where Claire had signed her name on it, claiming it as her own. Since the moment Anne had first cracked that book open, she had been hoping to find the flower for herself but she'd never been able to. It didn't grow around Lallybroch and she so rarely had the opportunity to leave, to go far enough that she might find it. And now her father had delivered it to her. How had he known?

“This was the plant that brought yer mother to me,” he explained, causing her to look up at him suddenly, her eyes wide. “And every time I see it, I think of her. Now you can keep her close, too.”

Her eyes watering, the gift which had been simple and with a simple meaning now meaning so much more, Anne threw her arms around her father yet again, this time not letting go as quick and holding onto him as she tried to push her tears away and was only moderately successful.

“And it doesna just mean remembrance,” Jamie went on, gently pulling Anne away so he could look at her face as he spoke. “But true love and devotion. Or so yer mother always told me.”

“I love it,” she told him, her eyes still watering. “It's perfect. It's the best gift I've ever gotten.”

When Jamie and Laoghaire’s marriage fell apart, Anne really tried not to be happy about it. She did. It was obvious that he'd found happiness with the small MacKimmie family and now he'd lost it, which wasn't anything she wanted for her father. At the end of the day, she wanted him to be happy, as much as it hurt when it wasn't with her after the decade they'd spent apart, so if he'd lost something which made him happy, she was sorry for it. It just so happened to be that her father wasn't the only person who'd lost something and she couldn't help feeling a little joy at the idea of people who'd hated her without explanation losing something which made them happy. She was just human, after all. Fergus even reassured her that it wasn't bad to be happy about the misfortune of people who hated her and she still believed anything he told her perhaps more readily than she should when she was twenty-one years old and not a young girl any longer.

Of course, it helped that all of this prompted Jamie to not move back to Lallybroch, but go to Edinburgh. And when Fergus said he was going with Jamie, Anne decided she was going, too, and no one could tell her otherwise. Aunt Jenny was always cursing the Fraser stubbornness but Anne wasn't afraid to use it to her advantage. She wasn't going to let the opportunity to spend more time with her father and get to see the world beyond Lallybroch slip through her fingers.

In Edinburgh, Jamie purchased a print shop and started going by the name Alexander Malcolm, even going so far as to name his new business after this pseudonym. Due to this, both Anne and Fergus started using the last name Malcolm as well, since their relation to Jamie couldn’t exactly be hidden. Especially since for the first while of their stay in Edinburgh, Anne and Fergus were living at the print shop. Jamie found lodging at a local brothel, a place he flat out refused to allow his daughter to enter, let alone live, and even though he didn’t have the same rules about Fergus residing at the brothel — he was a decade older than her, after all — he did feel better about having someone there with Anne in his own absence. For these same reasons, when the print shop was up and running and bringing in revenue, Anne and Fergus found lodging together nearby the shop.

Jamie’s room at the brothel was free, which is why he continued to reside there instead of with his children. And it was only free, of course, because of his business with the madam of the brothel, Jeanne LeGrand. And while Anne didn’t necessarily approve of her father being a smuggler since she had lost him to prison for eleven years, she didn’t mention her reservations to him in fear that he would send her back to Lallybroch. She may not have liked it, but while here, she actually got to see her father every day and it wasn’t something she was going to give up now that she had it.

Though her father initially printed the expected things, posters, pamphlets and books, eventually he started printing, well, the kinds of things which might get him in trouble. Jamie Fraser, she was learning, just didn’t know how to stay out of trouble. While he had at first been printing things at the request of a man named Tom Gage, only a few weeks later, Jamie was writing his own stuff for publishing. And though this, just like everything else, made Anne worry for her father’s safety, she kept her mouth closed about it, wanting to be with him.

Since her father was determined to keep her out of the trouble he was making as much as he could, Anne had to find other ways to occupy her time in Edinburgh. She found an apothecary in town and, after taking a casual look around the shop to see what they sold and realizing how much of it she recognized and knew the uses of, was inspired to offer her services as a healer to the people of Edinburgh. In no way was she claiming to know better than the local physician, but sometimes all people needed was a simple fix and this was easy for Anne to provide.

At first, Anne had to take a lot of initiative in her endeavours. She had to seek out people she believed she could help to provide her services to them. But then, after a few months of this, just when she was beginning to lose hope, there was a knock at the door. Fergus answered the door as it was a rare afternoon when he was home with her and he escorted a woman inside who had been looking for her, having heard what she could do and wanting her help. Her first customer . 

This only fueled her passion and, with her father’s help, something he was more than happy to provide with a warm smile and a look in his eyes which told her plainly that what she was doing was making him think of her mother, she printed out a poster and a few pamphlets which advertised her services. She delivered these to the apothecary as she had made friends with one of the workers, Marjorie Graham, due to her frequent visits there and asked her to post them up so as to better spread the word. And just like that, Anne had a little business of her own doing something she was passionate about.

It felt good to be making money of her own, even if she was barely charging more than the cost of her supplies. She wasn’t doing this because she needed the money, after all, only because helping people, healing them, was her passion. But having a little spending money of her own and not having to rely entirely on her father was nice when she knew where some of his money was coming from.

On a cool November morning, Anne woke to the smell and sounds of breakfast being made, causing her to smile. She shivered against the cold when she pushed back her heavy blankets, quickly sliding her feet into her slippers and drawing her dressing gown around her to stave off the cold until she was ready to dress fully. In the main room, Anne saw Fergus standing in front of the stove, already dressed and dutifully preparing breakfast for his baby sister.

“Don’t burn it this time,” she told him, causing him to look around to where her voice was coming from.

“If it is burned, it will not be my fault,” Fergus answered her.

She couldn’t help but smile as she finally padded fully into the room, crossing to the counter next to the stove in order to help him any way she could. Though he’d had many, many years to adjust by this point, Anne knew some things were still hard for her brother to do ever since he’d lost his hand and she helped him wherever she could and had been doing so as long as she could remember. Even before that vicious Redcoat had severed his hand, she had been trying to help her big brother with anything he may have been doing, losing his hand hadn’t changed all that much.

When their breakfast was cooked, the two siblings ate together before Anne saw Fergus off as he was headed out early to meet with Jamie to see what the day had in store for them. While she was also going to see her father that day, since she didn’t work for him, she could take her time in the mornings a bit more than her brother could. She cleaned the dishes first before dressing for the day ahead, making her way towards the print shop to see her father as she did every morning it was possible.

The air outside was cooler than Anne had expected and she tugged her coat a little tighter around her to try and keep her warmer as she walked in the direction of the print shop. It wasn’t far, which had been a large part of the appeal of the place in which she and Fergus now resided, it was only a short walk away from the print shop.

As she always did when she arrived, Anne ran her fingers over the sign identifying the shop and the Free Mason symbol in the center of the designs at the top before giving it a little push so it would start swinging as she made her way up the steps.

“Da?” she called out.

“Is that you, Anne?” she heard his voice call back to her from the ground level of the shop where the presses were.

“Who else would it be at this hour?” she questioned him, leaning on the windowsill which overlooked the presses. “Can ye not tell my voice from Geordie’s?”

He scoffed at that, turning away from the press he was beginning to work at to look up towards where he’d heard her voice coming from, smiling when he finally caught sight of her. The glasses she had insisted he needed were perched on his nose, his hair tied back so it was mostly out of his face and just a few short strands hung over his forehead but out of his eyes still. She was glad of that, they hadn’t had time for her to trim them for him lately.

“Has Fergus been here yet?” she asked.

“No, but he wasn't supposed to be,” he answered.

Anne nodded and stood up from the window, making her way to the stairs which led down to the ground level. She wrapped an arm around her father while he did the same, leaning into him while she appraised the press in front of them, trying to see what it was he was working on today, but giving up trying to read the ink-smudged and backwards letters after only a moment, looking up at Jamie to see him smiling down at her.

“Have you had yer tea this morning?”

Jamie made a sound of protest, clearly expressing his dislike without having to say a word. Anne rolled her eyes as they both stood straighter again.

“Do you need more, then, or do you have enough? I’m already heading to the apothecary to stock up.”

“I’ve got enough,” Jamie assured her.

Anne narrowed her eyes. “Don’t make me go check.”

“Fine,” he grumbled. “It’s getting low.”

“Do you have enough for today?” Her father nodded. “Good, make it now. It’s good for ye.”

She tapped his chest with one hand as she spoke, letting her basket slide down from the crook of her other arm and into her hand.

“I’m off, then,” she said, reaching up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “I’ll be back later after I’ve been to the apothecary. Will you be here?”

“I’ve got a meeting at one, but I’ll come back here afterwards.”

“You know, you could make this all so much easier and stop us from having to retrace our steps if you’d just let me go into the—”

“Dinna e’en finish that sentence,” Jamie warned, giving her a look which made her have to stifle a laugh.

She promised her father once again that she’d be back after his meeting, stretching up to once more kiss his cheek before she hurried up the stairs. As she was leaving the shop, a woman in a blue coat with dark hair was approaching the door so she held it open, nodding to her thanks before hurrying down the stairs and in the direction of the apothecary. She was always excited to go there, not just because of what it was but because it meant she’d get to see her friend Marjorie.

Marjorie's uncle, Elliot Graham, owned the apothecary and it hadn't taken long after arriving in Edinburgh for the two women to meet as Anne had sought out this shop quickly. With her frequent visits there, they were able to talk often and a friendship had quickly bloomed between them, one she even told her father about and he was quite happy she was making friends. When Anne was inspired to start healing people, Marjorie had agreed to post up a sign in the shop which advertised her services and take the small stack of pamphlets which provided more information to give to any who seemed interested. Marjorie had been very supportive and it just made Anne treasure their friendship all the more.

Of course, it also helped that hopefully one day soon, Marjorie would be family. After her uncle had gone into business with Jamie, Marjorie had met Fergus who was instantly smitten with her. Though they weren't married yet, Anne knew they both wanted to marry and it was the secrecy of their relationship which was holding them back. Anne didn't know all the details of why they were hiding their love and since she knew they were happy, she didn't quite care. She was able to take advantage of the situation as her brother was willing to pay for her silence whenever she threatened to tell their father, so if she wanted to go somewhere, do something or buy something, all she had to do was threaten Fergus that she was going to tell Da and he'd allow her to go — though often accompanying her — or give her some gold. It was a situation in which she was more than happy herself.

While at the apothecary, after catching up with her friend and getting the supplies she needed, Marjorie told her that they were nearly out of her pamphlets so Anne resolved to tell her father she needed to print a few more when she returned to the shop. She reluctantly bid farewell to her friend and then was off in the direction of home to drop off her supplies and meet with a customer.

She'd had Mr Rosach as a customer for a few months now and today was the day he came to refresh his supply and get a little once over so she could be sure he was still otherwise in good health. It had taken them a little while to determine what was causing his headaches, but now, thanks to her, they'd gone away. Mr Rosach could be a grouchy man at times, especially if he had a headache, but he was always sweet to her now. She'd been the one to ease his pain, after all. After attending to her customer, Anne grabbed what she'd bought for her father and left home, once again heading in the direction of the print shop.

Geordie wasn't at the front desk when she entered the shop, so she assumed he'd been sent off on some kind of errand once again, but if the time was correct, which she was sure it was, her father should already have been back by now from whatever meeting he had.

“Da?” she called out. “I'm back! I have the herbs for your tea. I know you hate them, but I only want you to be healthy. Oh and Marjorie said they were almost out of—”

Anne stopped herself abruptly as she finally reached the ground level of the shop and turned around to see her father standing there with an unfamiliar, dark-haired woman. She realized this woman must be a customer and instantly felt bad for not bothering to check before she shouted across the entire shop and intruded on their meeting. He should have said he had another meeting.

“Oh, I'm sorry, yer with a customer,” Anne quickly said. “I didna realize. I'll just leave the herbs up at the desk and you can get them from Geordie later—”

“No, stay,” Jamie said, shaking his head as he took a few steps toward her, one of his hands outstretched for hers. She took it immediately, without even thinking, letting him pull her gently forward. “There's someone I want ye to meet.”

Presuming the woman to be who her father was talking about, Anne turned her attention back to her. Her dark hair was pulled up in a bun at the back of her head and her blue eyes were full of emotion and, now that Anne was looking, she looked to be on the verge of tears, though she couldn't understand why. Her father wasn't in the business of making people cry so what could have happened to have this woman near tears?

“Anne, this is Claire Fraser, yer mother ,” Jamie continued. Her eyes went wide as she looked from her father back to Claire, suddenly understanding the tears in her eyes as her own started to fill. “Claire, this is our daughter, Anne.”

She had dreamed of this day so many times but nothing could come close to reality as Claire stepped towards Anne, her eyes tracing over her features as quickly as Anne was doing the same, finally seeing what her father had been seeing all these years. It was all so eerily similar to her reunion with Jamie when he came back to Lallybroch, from the hesitancy as if afraid she wasn't real to the way she reached one hand up to touch her cheek. This time Anne couldn't help but lean into it, her eyes squeezing shut, allowing a few tears to escape down her cheeks, as she savoured the feeling of her head being cradled in her mother's hand. It was all she'd wanted for so long and her dreams really didn't do the feeling justice.

“You are…” Claire's voice was breathless. “You've grown into such a beautiful young woman, sweetheart.”

Before she knew it, Claire's arms were around her, bringing her into a hug and Anne couldn't do anything but melt into her mother's embrace. Her own arms wrapped around Claire in return, holding tightly, suddenly understanding the fear of it all slipping away or not being real and wanting to memorize the feeling if it all vanished suddenly, right from under you.

A moment later when they pulled away in order to see each other's faces again, Claire continued to cradle Anne's face in her hands and she made no protest, more than happy to remain there.

“Oh, you were just a baby last time I saw you,” Claire said, speaking properly for the first time. Her voice was soft and gentle, better than anything Anne could have imagined. “You were so small, still so sick. I didn't think— We didn't think you'd survive, not after—”

“Faith,” Anne answered for her and Claire nodded.

Jamie looped one arm around Anne's shoulders. “I told ye she was strong, did I no, Claire? Even when she was a wee bairn. When I returned to Lallybroch after Culloden, I didna think Anne would— that she'd have lived, not after Jenny's letter. But our daughter is strong.”

She watched as Claire stared up at Jamie with love and affection nearly too much for her eyes to contain and felt something in her ease at the knowledge that everything she'd always been told about how in love her parents were was true.

“I knew ye'd come back to us,” Anne said, drawing her mother's attention once again. “They told me ye were lost but lost things can be found again. I lost Da and he came back again, and Fergus always told me— Fergus!” she exclaimed, looking to her father in alarm. “Does he know? If Ma is back, you have to tell him right away, he—”

“Easy, leannain ,” Jamie said, smiling at her. “Yer brother knows.”

“We saw him in the market,” Claire told her. “He said you were with a customer. You're a healer?”

Anne nodded eagerly. “Aye. I'm no physician, but I ken enough to help people. I learned what I could from Aunt Jenny, the rest from you. For a while, I would tend to our tenants at Lallybroch, now I have customers in Edinburgh. I mostly treat aches and pains, fevers and the like.”

Jamie beamed with pride. “She's got a knack for it, she does. Just like her mother.”

“Hold on,” Claire said, her brow furrowing in confusion. “Me? I taught you? How is that possible?”

While Jamie smirked instead of answering, Anne dug into her basket and pulled out the book, feeling grateful she always brought it everywhere with her. Though she was always hesitant to give it to anyone, Anne handed the book over to her mother, knowing it couldn’t be safer than with its original owner. Claire looked it over, still confused for a moment before recognition bloomed across her face and she looked up at her daughter before back down to the book while Anne couldn’t help but smile.

“I haven’t seen this in years…” Claire said, flipping open the cover. “Wherever did you find this?”

“At Lallybroch,” Anne said. “I found it while exploring one day and then I saw your name and… I’ve had it with me ever since, I don’t go anywhere without it. I’ve read it front to back and back to front and every possible way. Think I have it memorized by this point.”

After that, with smiles on all their faces, they sat down together in the back of the shop, with Claire requesting to be told everything. They simply talked for hours, enjoying not just each other’s company but that they got to be together, finally. Before they knew it, the sun had set and they were all exhausted. They were all reluctant to part again, but made promises to see each other again the next day, waiting to say goodbye until the last possible moment when their paths split, Jamie and Claire to the brothel and Anne to her home with Fergus. After another lingering hug, she started backing away from her parents, taking in the sight of them together, their hands clasped together, before she finally turned and made the rest of the way home as quick as she could.

Fergus was waiting up for her and she felt briefly bad about possibly worrying her brother. Within only a few short words, they both realized the other also knew about Claire being back and were able to share their elation. But after both having long days, they couldn’t keep themselves awake for long and retired to their rooms for the rest of the night.

When Anne lay her head upon her pillow that night, she couldn’t help but think of how she never could have anticipated the day turning out the way it did when she woke up that morning, but she couldn’t be happier about how things had gone. As her exhaustion finally won, she fell into a deep slumber with a smile upon her face.

Chapter Text

Anne woke slowly the next morning, a smile on her face already as she recalled the events of the day before. It had been such an amazing day, such a perfect day, for one which had started out so ordinarily. She had met her mother, finally, gotten to hug her and be held by her and look into her eyes. Show her the book she had so treasured for as long as she'd had it and tell her the reason she became a healer was because of her. She'd never seen her father so happy as when he'd been with Claire. It was nice to finally see.

When she was fully awake, she heard the sound of breakfast being made a second before the smell hit her nose. Her smile widened as a plan formed in her mind. She pushed her blankets off and grabbed her robe, hurrying to help her brother with breakfast.

As they did almost every morning, Fergus and Anne made their breakfast together and then sat down to eat it, Fergus rushing to eat quicker, knowing he had somewhere to be sooner than she did. As her brother was nearing the end of his meal, Anne put her plan into action.

“Is Ma just like you remember?” she asked.

“Exactly,” Fergus told her. “It's like Milady stepped right out of a memory.”

“I wish I had memories of her…”

Fergus reached across the table to put his hand on hers. “You'll get to make new memories.”

“That's what I want more than anything,” she said. “And I was thinking since you and Da have work, I could spend time with her today.”

“You should,” Fergus said, giving her an encouraging smile. “Perhaps you could meet at the print shop.”

“That's one option…”

Fergus gave her a skeptical look, his eyes narrowing. She simply smiled back.

“You are not allowed in the brothel,” Fergus told her sternly.

“Da doesna have to know.”

“No.”

It hadn't taken long after their arrival in Edinburgh, Jamie getting his place at the brothel and the rule about Anne not being allowed inside for her to realize her brother was acting odd about the brothel as well. It went beyond the rule about her entrance. The first few times she had brushed it off as him taking the rule seriously and his new role as, essentially, her sole guardian. With Jamie living at the brothel and it being just brother and sister living together, it was the first time he was the only adult looking after her most of the time. He'd always been her protector, but at Lallybroch, he'd had Aunt Jenny and Uncle Ian living under the same roof as well. Not in Edinburgh. Here, it was just him.

But his behaviour had continued. Finally, she had to know why. It wasn't often she couldn't explain away her brother's behaviour and she had to admit, she didn't like not knowing why he was so upset. Though she hadn't gotten what anyone would call a detailed explanation, this was when she finally learned how her parents had come to take her brother in. He had been raised in a brothel in Paris and one night he had pickpocketed Jamie. Instead of being angry, he'd been impressed and took him in just then, giving him the name Fergus and bringing him home to meet Claire. And the rest, he told her, was history.

He hadn't looked as aloof as he was trying to, though. She suspected there was more to the story he wasn't ready to divulge, even to her. Whatever he was hiding was still upsetting him so Anne did the only thing one should in this situation. She wrapped her arms around him and refused to let go until she was sure he was feeling better.

“Fine,” she said, not bothering to hide her pout. “I'll just go see Marjorie instead. And when Da asks about my day—”

“Anne.”

“Or you could help me go see Ma and I winnae tell Da about yer secret wife.”

“She's not my—” Fergus cut himself off when he saw her wide smile and sighed heavily. “Fine. Ce que tu peux être fatigant.”

Despite being called annoying by her brother, Anne smiled wide at him, knowing he didn't really mean it. He'd been calling her annoying for her whole life and never really meant it, even when Aunt Jenny had to force him to apologize to her.

“Je t’aime, mon frère.”

Fergus rolled his eyes at her, continuing to mutter under his breath in French as he gathered his dishes and brought them to the sink. Anne didn't stop smiling the whole while, not because she was happy about blackmailing or annoying her brother even though she did enjoy that, but because she was going to get to spend time with her mother today. They'd get a real chance to start getting to know one another.

As Fergus gathered his coat and hat, he told her that he'd have Ian meet her at the brothel so she could be escorted safely up to the right room. Though Anne questioned him on if he thought she would get lost, he didn't leave much room for argument so she let it go, promising him that she'd leave as soon as the dishes were done.

She couldn't keep the smile off her face as she finished up the dishes and got herself ready for the day, wearing her favourite blue dress which her father and brother always told her brought out her eyes with her green cloak. She grabbed her basket, tucking her book safely in the bottom along with a few biscuits she'd baked, wrapped up tightly in some cloth to keep them safe. Once she had everything, she departed, heading first in the direction of the Graham apothecary, wanting to quickly pick up some English tea for her mother. She hoped it would make her mother feel a little more at home and there was nowhere she trusted more to get what she needed.

Just as expected, Marjorie was at the counter and looked up when she heard the door open. The older woman returned Anne's smile as she realized it was her.

“Anne!” Marjorie greeted her kindly.

“Marjorie! It's a beautiful day, no?”

Marjorie gave her a confused look, briefly looking towards the windows which showed the usual overcast skies of Edinburgh. Anne decided to ignore this.

“What brings ye in, today? Surely ye don't need more herbs since yesterday,” Marjorie asked her.

“No, no,” Anne assured her, shaking her head. “I just need some tea. English tea, that is.”

“English tea?” Marjorie questioned her, brow furrowing. “What do ye need English tea for?”

“It's a gift,” Anne explained, then reconsidered. “Well, not a gift, exactly, as it's meant to be shared. An olive branch, maybe? Or an activity to do with someone.”

While she'd been speaking, Marjorie's expression had changed, clearly gathering assumptions based on what she was saying without knowing full well what Anne was actually talking about. Anne didn't realize her mistake until much too late. After all, she was twenty-two years old and had no suitors. Marjorie probably assumed the aforementioned someone to do an activity with was some man she had met and was trying to impress. She couldn't be further from the truth.

“Oh? Has our Anne finally met a man?” she teased, probably hoping she was correct if only to give back all the teasing Anne had given her about Fergus over the last months.

“No,” Anne insisted. “Do ye not think I would have told my dearest friend if I had met someone? My brother likes secrets more than I.”

Marjorie rolled her eyes at the reference to her secret relationship with Fergus. “If it's no’ for a man, then what is the tea for?”

“Well, if you must know,” Anne started, unable to stop her excitement from bleeding into her smile and eyes. “It's for my mother.”

“Yer mother?”

“Yes! She's back! They always said she was dead but she came back to us!” Anne exclaimed, unable to contain herself as she leaned against the counter. “Ye should have seen my Da, he was so happy! All the stories everyone always told me of how in love they were, everything Fergus always said about them being soulmates, it was true, he looked so happy and in love.”

She could tell by the look in her friend's eyes just how happy she was for her. Her friendship with Marjorie was one of the best things to come from her decision to follow her father to Edinburgh. Until Marjorie, Anne had never really had a friend who wasn't also her family. Sure, there were other children around Lallybroch, but most of them were her cousins and because of that, they just got to spend more time together. She'd always been closest with her cousins, with Ian and Janet the two she was always closest with, but her friendship with Marjorie was different, it felt more special.

Anne couldn't wait for the day Fergus finally asked Marjorie to marry him, when they weren't keeping their relationship a secret any longer. She always got so excited by the idea of Marjorie finally being her sister. Maybe it was because the only sister she had was the one she'd never gotten to know but Anne couldn't wait to have a sister.

“I'm so happy for ye,” Marjorie said, coming around the counter to hug Anne. “I'll get that tea right away.”

She thanked her friend profusely as her purchase was prepared and paid for. As she left, Marjorie wished her good luck and she thanked her friend once again before heading out into the brisk air once again. Though she'd always been forbidden from going into the brothel, she knew exactly where it was and where the entrance was as she was permitted to meet her father outside of it. Well, and she had sent a very confused passerby inside with a message for her father one morning. He hadn't been very happy with her, but what else was she to do when he had forbidden her from going inside to fetch him herself?

As she neared the brothel, she spotted her cousin Ian’s familiar red hair outside as he shifted uneasily from foot to foot. He clearly didn't like the idea of bringing her inside anymore than Fergus did as she'd never seen him anxious by just being outside before, not after the first time he'd been inside.

Ian wasn't supposed to follow Jamie to Edinburgh, unlike Fergus and Anne, but he kept running away from Lallybroch. He'd been sent back at first, especially with how obviously worried Aunt Jenny and Uncle Ian were about him, but he'd just run away again. The last time he'd showed up at the print shop, Jamie hadn't sent him home, knowing he'd just show up again. Anne didn't mind that her cousin was here, she liked getting to spend time with him, especially time away from Lallybroch. One of the reasons they'd always been so close was because they shared a sense of adventure, of wanting to see the world beyond their home. To Anne, it was no surprise when Ian ran away.

“Good morning, cousin!” Anne greeted him brightly.

In place of greeting her, Ian said, “Are you sure about this, Anne? If Uncle Jamie finds out, he's gonna be—”

“He won't find out unless you tell him.”

“What if he comes back?”

Not wanting to talk in circles to unwind her cousin's anxiety, Anne decided to switch tactics. She softened her expression, making her eyes big and turning her mouth down slightly into a frown. Ian reacted instantly, getting a slightly guilty look on his face.

“Please, Ian?” she asked him sweetly.

“Fine,” Ian said, sighing heavily. “Let's go. Just… stay close tae me.”

Anne immediately smiled brightly at him again, causing him to smile at her in response, though it was notably a little strained. She had convinced him, but he still wasn't happy about it. He'd get over it.

Though she was curious about not just this brothel but what a brothel looked like in general, Anne knew her father kept her away for a reason, even if she didn't know quite what that reason was. For this reason, she kept her head down, looking only ahead of her at the back of her cousin's head as they went inside and then up a set of stairs. There was chatter all around, idle and quiet, and none of the sounds she had expected to hear, though that was likely due to the time of day, Anne suspected.

When they finally reached what must have been the right door, Ian knocked gently. From within, Anne heard her mother ask if it was Jamie as Ian eased the door open. As soon as the door was open wide enough for him to see inside, he stopped, blocking the way inside.

“Sorry, mistress,” he said, sounding confused. Clearly Fergus hadn’t told him why he was to escort her through the brothel. “Are you Mister Malcolm’s… woman?”

“I suppose I am,” came Claire’s reply, uneasy and confused. “Who are you?”

Anne decided that was enough. With the skill of someone who had grown up with as many cousins as she had, Anne finally pushed past Ian so she could enter the room. Claire was still wearing just her shift and she had to ignore the instinct to avert her eyes.

“Anne? What are you doing here?” Claire asked.

“I came to see you, of course,” she answered simply before turning to Ian, who still looked confused about what was going on. “And this is my favourite cousin, Ian.”

Claire’s brow furrowed for a moment before she turned and grabbed a blanket from a shelf behind her, wrapping it around her shoulders. “Come in properly, both of you. He’s your cousin? Are you Jenny and Ian Murray’s son?”

“Aye,” Ian confirmed, casting confused looks between Claire and Anne, who was only smiling at him. “How’d you know?”

“I knew your parents a very long time ago,” Claire told him, her own smile growing. “Your uncle and I— How old are you?”

“I’m sixteen,” Ian said proudly. “And dinna worry, I’m old enough to know what sort of a place this is. Meaning no offense to you, of course, mistress.”

Anne hit her cousin on the arm, causing him to give her an offended look. Just because he didn’t know what he was doing here didn’t mean he could just imply that her mother worked here.

Luckily, Claire laughed. “There’s none taken. Very nice to meet you, Ian. I am, well… I’m your aunt, Claire.”

“But…” Ian started, looking at Anne in confusion before back at Claire. “You’re dead.”

Claire laughed again. “Not yet.”

“You know, some of the old women at Lallybroch used to say you were a wise woman, a white lady,” Ian said.

“Ian!” Anne exclaimed, hitting his arm once again.

“Or maybe even a fairy,” Ian went on, undeterred, as Claire sat down on the bed. “They say as how, when Uncle Jamie came home from Culloden without you, that maybe ye’d gone back to where ye came from… Back to the fairies.” As Claire watched him in amusement, Ian’s own expression turned more eager. “Is that true? Do you live in a dun?”

“No,” Claire told him, laughing and shaking her head. “I was in the Colonies. I went there after I thought Jamie had died at Culloden and Anne died of a fever.”

Ian glanced at Anne at the mention of her being sick as a baby before looking back at Claire. “So you’ve come back to him?”

“I have.”

It was only once Anne saw the look on Ian’s face, the barely concealed alarm, that she realized there weren’t just good things about her mother coming back to them. The first thing Aunt Jenny had tried to convince Jamie to do once he came back to them was to remarry and, eventually, he had. Anne might not have approved or been happy about his decision, but he’d done it. She couldn’t imagine what this would mean for them.

“Well,” Ian said, bringing Anne out of her thoughts. “Very pleased to meet you, Uncle Jamie’s wife. When ye see him, will ye tell him I’m looking for him? And not tell him I brought Anne in here?”

“I told you I wouldna tell him if you won’t,” Anne told him, rolling her eyes.

“I will,” Claire said. Ian’s eyes widened. “Tell him you’re looking for him. Not about Anne.”

That seemed to calm Ian down and he gave them both a smile, turning to the door. They were all silent as he passed out of the door, looking back once more to smile at them both before pulling it completely shut and leaving Anne alone with her mother.

She’d never been alone with her mother, she realized. Not many people her age could say that. She found herself getting more and more nervous as she stood there, still holding her basket with her cloak on. What did she even say now? How did one start a conversation with the mother who’d been miraculously returned after being missing for her whole life? She didn’t even know where to start. When she’d come up with the plan this morning it had all been so easy. 

“Why can’t I tell your father you’re here?” Claire asked after a few minutes of silence.

“It’s just some daft rule of Da’s,” Anne explained. “He says I’m no’ allowed in the brothel. Never says why, just that I canna come in. And I’ve always listened, the whole time we’ve been in Edinburgh, but of course I had to make an exception today. How am I supposed to get to know ye if I canne even see ye?”

“Is that why you came here?”

Anne nodded. “After Da came back from Ardsmuir, we would spend a lot of nights just sitting together, talking, getting to know each other properly. He… he wasnae in a good place when he came back from Culloden without ye, I never really knew him then. But talking with him, when he came back, it was… nice getting to know him. I thought, well, we could do the same.”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea, sweetheart,” Claire said. When Anne looked up, all she could see was the smile on her face. “Why don’t you take your coat off and we can sit down.”

Claire helped Anne out of her cloak, hanging it up while she took her basket over to the small table on the other side of the room. She sat down putting out the biscuits she brought and by the time her mother reached the table, she was preparing the tea as well. Claire was delighted about the English tea which made Anne flush with pride.

In no time at all, they were sitting down together at the table, the tea steaming in their cups and the biscuits warmed by their tea. They started small, Claire wanted to know about Anne, if she was happy in Edinburgh, if she’d been happy at Lallybroch, how Aunt Jenny and Uncle Ian had treated her. Then Anne was allowed to ask questions. Anne wanted to know about how she met Jamie, how they fell in love, what her life was like before, what the Colonies were like.

Learning more about her mother made something in Anne finally rest, like some of the questions which had always been lingering in the back of her mind were finally answered. There were so many things she’d always wanted to know and now she did.

“There is one thing I still want to know,” Anne said, running her finger around the rim of her cup and avoiding eye contact.

“What is it?” Claire asked.

Anne gathered her courage and met her mother’s questioning gaze. “What should I call you?”

“Call me?”

“Well, Ma is what my cousins called Aunt Jenny, but you’re not Scottish, so ye wouldna have called your mother ma and you also spent time in the Colonies…” she explained. “I thought maybe you’d like to choose what I call you, what you would have chosen if… things had gone right.”

Claire’s brow furrowed in thought as she turned over Anne’s question in her mind. “I suppose I always imagined my daughter calling me Mama.”

“Mama,” Anne said, smiling. “It’s perfect.”

“Now, what about—”

Before Claire could finish her sentence, the door to the room opened and a man Anne didn’t recognize came inside, closing the door quickly behind him. He was bald, with a stern face. He was the kind of man whose eye she always avoided in the tavern or in the market, who would make her father or brother stick much closer to her, keep an arm on hers to keep her close.

“Who the hell are you?” Claire asked, immediately standing up and putting herself in front of Anne.

“None of your concern,” the man answered.

“You need to leave.”

“No whore tells me what to do. Now, when I’m finished looking for what I’m looking for, you can earn some coin. Wait on the bed.”

Anne’s hand balled up into fists, fear and anger rising in equal measure inside her. On the one hand, she was angered at this man’s assumptions about her mother. But on the other hand, this man was obviously stronger than her and she didn’t want to think of what he might do if he overpowered her.

“I think you’re mistaken,” Claire went on. “I don’t work here. This is my husband’s room.”

The man scoffed. “Husband? Is that so? Then you can tell me where he keeps his ledgers.”

“I have no idea.”

“Maybe if I fuck you, it’ll jar your memory,” he said, beginning to stalk towards them.

Her heart started beating faster, the fear beginning to overpower her anger. If this man did as he was threatening, would they even be able to scream for help? Would anyone here listen? Anne was beginning to understand why her father didn’t want her to come in here now if people like this man could come in without arousing suspicion.

“Just get out!” Claire shouted at the man, pointing towards the door.

“Not until I have what I came for.”

Claire reached back and grabbed a knife off the table, holding it out in front of her. The man laughed, looking unimpressed at the small knife Claire was brandishing. He stepped forward again and she did as well, swinging the knife wildly. Still, the man didn’t look impressed or intimidated, not stopping his slow approach.

Anne didn’t see what happened next, not fully. Afraid, both for her mother and herself, she turned away, not wanting to see what this man might do to Claire if she failed to get him to go away. She didn’t want to think negatively, assume her mother couldn’t do it, but the fear wasn’t letting her think straight. All she could think about was what might happen if Claire did fail and none of the scenarios her mind was providing her with were making her feel any better.

Then there was a heavy thud. Anne risked a glance up and saw Claire standing a few feet away from her, breathing heavy and staring down at… the body of the man who’d burst into the room, his head on the stone base of the fireplace. He wasn’t moving, just laying there limply. He didn’t even look like he was breathing.

Immediately, Claire turned back to see if Anne was okay. She nodded, letting her mother know she was unharmed. Claire swept her into a hug, holding her gently, running her hand over her hair to soothe her. Anne had to admit, she did immediately feel better.

“Sassenach.”

They both startled at the sound of Jamie’s voice, looking up to see him coming into the room. He looked confused when he saw the fear in both their eyes. When they both couldn’t help their eyes being drawn to the body on the floor, he followed their line of sight until he, too, saw the man who’d burst in on them.

“What the devil happened?”

Jamie closed the door carefully. Still no one spoke. Anne didn’t know what to say, she didn’t even know if she could make herself speak at this point. The fear was still making her heart race and she could barely tear her eyes away from the body. Claire’s grip on Anne was tight as if she was her mother’s lifeline as she tried to steady her breathing. Anne couldn’t find a single thing about her mother using her in this way to protest about.

“Sassenach,” Jamie said again, softly. 

He was standing in front of them now, putting a hand gently on Claire’s arm. He slid his hand down her arm until he reached her hand, still clutching tightly to the knife she’d used to defend them. Jamie took the knife gently from her hand and it wasn’t until he was moving it away from them that Anne realized there was blood on the blade.

“We were just talking,” Claire started, her voice shaking. “He just came in. He threatened us. I fought him off, but… It all happened so quickly.”

Suddenly, there was a groan from the body on the floor. Claire gasped and they all turned to look at him in surprise.

“He’s breathing!” Claire exclaimed, letting go of Anne to kneel next to the body.

“Sassenach,” Jamie said, as if trying to get her attention. Claire leaned over the man’s head, her ear close to his mouth and nose. “Sassenach, what are you thinking?”

“I can’t let him suffer,” Claire explained. “I have to do something.”

“Why? He attacked you. And our daughter,” Jamie argued.

“Because I’m a doctor.”

Anne watched with interest as her mother began examining the man. She was eager to help, but she’d managed to escape her father’s ire so far and she wasn’t in a hurry to have that conversation. For now, she would stay quiet.

“An epidural hematoma,” Claire said. “I’m going to have to relieve the swelling.”

There was a knock at the door and Anne’s heart skipped, the unexpected noise causing her still uneasy nerves to startle once again. As her father crossed to the door, Anne took the opportunity to kneel down on the other side of the man so she’d been in a better position to help, should her mother need it.

“Who is it?” Jamie asked, pressed against the door.

“Me, Milord.” Fergus. Anne let out a breath, some of the last of her fear easing away at the sound of her brother’s voice. “I’m with Madame Jeanne. Some of the ladies said they heard a struggle in your bed chamber.”

Jamie gave one last look at Claire and Anne before he opened the door, allowing the two in. Upon seeing the body on the floor and his sister knelt next to him, Fergus’ eyes immediately widened and he crossed over to her. Anne stood up again, allowing herself to be swept into her brother’s embrace.

“She was defending herself and Anne,” Jamie explained.

“Please, help me get him on the bed,” Claire said.

“Who is he?” Madame Jeanne asked.

“I don’t know.”

“He just burst in,” Anne said. “He didn’t even knock.”

“Sassenach… let God take him,” Jamie said, a stern look on his face.

Claire didn’t flinch under the stern expression. “I have to try and save him, Jamie. You understand?” They stared at each other for a tense moment. “Please.”

Jamie sighed and took a few steps forward, handing the knife to Madame Jeanne, who took it hesitantly. When Claire asked for some whisky, Jamie pointed her in the right direction. Gesturing silently to Fergus, her brother finally let go of her, pressing a kiss to her temple as he did before leaning down to help Jamie move the body onto the bed.

“I can help,” Anne said, looking at her mother as she turned back around with the bottle of whisky.

“Get a cloth,” Claire instructed her, pointing to the table where they’d had tea.

“No,” Jamie said, panting as they put the man down on the bed. “You’re going home. You know you're not allowed in here.”

“She came to see me,” Claire said, gesturing for Anne to bring her the cloth.

Anne handed her mother the cloth she’d found. “I just wanted to spend time with Mama, like when you came back from Ardsmuir.”

“You could have been killed!” Jamie exclaimed.

“Mama protected me,” Anne said. “I’m fine, Da. I promise.”

Jamie shook his head, but when the man groaned again, his attention was drawn back to the body and he began rifling through his coat and pockets.

“Ye said he was searching for something in the room.”

“Yes,” Claire said. “Your ledgers.”

As Claire knelt on the bed next to the man and Anne lingered just beside her mother, watching intently, Jamie finally found a piece of folded paper in the man’s pockets and pulled it out, carefully unfolding it.

“John Barton,” he read off the paper, squinting slightly without his glasses. Anne wanted to chastise him for it but figured now wasn’t the time. “An exciseman.”

“This is very bad, Milord,” Fergus said.

Anne watched her mother pour some of the whisky onto the cloth and began preparing what supplies she did have. She did it with such ease, as if it was instinct and she didn’t even have to think about what she was doing. When they weren’t in the middle of an emergency, when a man wasn’t dying on her father’s bed, she would have questions, a lot of questions.

“It seems Sir Percival is of the mind I’m not keeping to our agreement,” Jamie said.

“What agreement?” Claire asked.

“He turns a blind eye to the sale of my illegal liquor in exchange for a large portion of the profit. But our business pursuits have expanded beyond Edinburgh, and I havena apprised him of the matter.”

“You think he has word we’ve been trading as far as Dundee and Arbroath? Paris?” Fergus asked.

“Aye,” Jamie agreed. “Yeah, maybe. Just yesterday, he attempted to extort more money from me. He must have employed this man to find out where I’ve stowed my hidden casks.”

Claire moved a little further up the bed, towards the man’s head. “So he’s a crooked agent of the Crown, then.”

“Aye. When this man doesna return, Sir Percival will come ‘round, looking for him.”

“That is quite a problem, Monsieur Malcolm,” Madame Jeanne said, sounding as worried as she looked. “Considering the casks Sir Percival is searching for are hidden in my basement.”

The longer Anne was here, the more she understood about why her father kept her away. She had known about the smuggling, of course, but her father and brother had always kept the specifics to themselves. It wasn’t like she minded, she wasn’t exactly working with them, she had her own little business to dedicate her time towards.

“Well, not for long,” Jamie said. “No harm will befall you on my account. You have my word.”

“And what about Marjorie and her uncle?” Anne asked, looking between her father and brother. “What if someone shows up at the apothecary and harms them like they almost harmed me and Mama?”

Fergus did a good job at hiding the degree of panic in his eyes at the suggestion Marjorie could be harmed as Jamie turned to him and instructed him to go warn Marjorie and Elliot. With a nod, Fergus quickly ducked out of the room. Anne suspected — and couldn’t blame him for it — that he’d start running as soon as he was out on the street and out of sight of their father.

“Allow me to send one of my more discreet girls to put, uh, everything in order right away,” Madame Jeanne said.

“Merci, Madame,” Jamie said.

“Please,” Claire started, getting Madame Jeanne’s attention as she stood up and moved around to the other side of the bed. “Ask her for some hot water and a basin, and I’ll need some surgical implements. A trephine. Send her to the barber surgeon. He’ll have one.”

“A what?” Jamie asked.

“Whatever for?” Madame Jeanne asked.

“A drill to bore a hole in his skull.”

Anne’s eyes widened as she looked toward her mother once again. She barely heard Madame Jeanne’s assurance that she would try to find what was asked for and ducked out of the room. It seemed like the number of questions bursting in Anne’s mind doubled and she had to fight to not start asking all of them at once. Save the man first, then she could ask all her questions. If they weren’t answered by observing her mother, of course.

“I still have some time,” Claire mused, shaking Anne from her thoughts. “I’ll need to go to the apothecary, get some laudanum and things.”

“I can take you,” Anne said immediately. “Marjorie’s a friend and they have the best supplies in all of Edinburgh.”

Claire gave Anne a grateful smile before looking back at Jamie. “Will you stay with him until I come back, in case he wakes?”

“He doesn’t deserve your mercy.”

“Maybe not,” Claire agreed. “Once he’s recovered, you can turn him over to the authorities.”

“I ken ye’ve just returned, so maybe ye dinna recall the workings of the law in this time. But all they’ll see is that you were alone wi’ a man that’s not yer husband, in a brothel.”

Anne didn’t see her father this angry very often. She didn’t quite understand what he was so upset about, either. Shouldn’t it be a good thing that Claire wanted to save him, that she couldn’t just let him die? She was a healer, that’s what they did. They saved people. Had twenty years apart made him forget that?

“I’m not a whore,” Claire protested.

“Doesna matter. If the City Guard come here, they’ll arrest you for having assaulted him.”

Claire stared at him for a moment, likely trying to think of how to respond. Instead, when she finally did speak again, she didn’t even reply to what Jamie had said. “I’ll have to hurry.”

“Stubborn as always,” Jamie muttered to himself as Claire disappeared behind the dividing screen to get dressed.

“Guess I dinna just get it from you,” Anne said, smiling.

“Oh, don’t you even start,” Jamie said, turning his angry expression on her. “How did you even get in here?”

Anne glanced at where Claire had disappeared to and then back at her father. “Does it matter?”

“Was it your brother?”

“I promised I wouldna tell you who it was.”

“So it was your brother.”

“No! He was with you this morning, Da, how could he have gotten me in ‘ere?”

“Ian, then.”

“Actually,” Claire cut in from behind the screen, “Ian stopped by after Anne was already here. Said he was looking for you.”

Anne couldn't help but smile when her mother backed her up, keeping her promise to Ian not to tell Jamie it had been him at the same time. Her father didn't look pleased at her refusing to answer his questions but she knew it wouldn't take long for him to forgive her. It never did these days. She quickly crossed the room so she was in front of him and made the same face she'd used on Ian that morning outside the brothel, looking up at her father through her lashes. The change was almost instantaneous. Although he tried to keep looking angry, she could see the anger had already disappeared.

“I'm sorry if I scared ye, Da,” she told him in her softest and sweetest voice. “I just wanted to spend time with Mama, get to know her and you were busy and so was Fergus and I hadna even seen Ian so there was no one to tell her to meet me at the shop. I even bought tea special from Marjorie just for her and I—”

“Alright, alright,” Jamie said, holding up a hand to stop her. “As long as you're alright.”

“I am, I promise.”

Jamie turned his attention to where just the top of Claire’s head was visible above the screen. “Well, do as ye must. I’ve casks to rid myself of. I’ll send a man up to watch over him while we’re gone.”

Having said his piece, Jamie turned and left, leaving Claire and Anne alone together once again. This time, she knew, it would be fine. Not only would she get to watch the woman who’d taught her almost everything she knew about healing in action, but she’d get to introduce her mother to her dearest friend, Marjorie.

As they walked from the brothel towards the Graham’s apothecary, Anne told her mother all about Marjorie and even some about her uncle, Elliot, as well. She explained how they’d met and come to be friends, how she’d visited Lallybroch twice with her and even been there as a child, after Culloden. One of the only details she spared her mother was Marjorie and Fergus’ secret courtship. As much as she teased her brother about revealing his secret, she had no intention of telling anyone before he did. Even their mother.

Claire listened with a smile the whole walk, the constant chatter and eagerness from Anne seeming to soothe her frayed nerves after the events of that morning, at least for the moment. It was a welcome distraction for Anne, herself, to try and come up with different things to tell her mother about her friend instead of thinking about why they were going to the apothecary in the first place.

The bell chimed as Claire held the door open for her daughter, allowing her to slip inside the apothecary. There was a man at the counter already, both Elliot and Marjorie standing at the counter and attending to his questions about some root which they didn’t keep.

“That’s Marjorie,” Anne whispered to her mother as they stepped up next to the man at the counter to wait their turn.

As they waited, Anne’s impatience returned and she started to bounce on her heels. Looking around the shop, she caught Marjorie’s eye, returning the kind smile her friend gave her. The quiet of the apothecary didn’t allow for the same distractions as out on the street and the worry was quickly growing within her once again. At least she could take solace in both Marjorie and Elliot looking well. If they were attending to business as usual, they must not have had anyone come after them. That was good.

“I’m so sorry,” Claire said, surprising Anne when she interrupted Elliot’s conversation with his customer. “I don't mean to be rude, but I have a situation that requires immediate attention.”

Even after all the events of that morning, Anne hadn’t expected her mother to be quite so forward. Sure, they were in a hurry, but they couldn’t just jump the line, they couldn’t interrupt two men who were clearly in conversation like this. Even if time was of the essence, they had to wait their turn, didn’t they?

“Please wait your turn, madam,” Elliot politely told her.

“But it's urgent,” Claire persisted.

“So, too, is the health of my dear sister,” the man told her. He glanced back at the two apothecaries before him and asked another question. “And what of hemlock? ‘Tis said that it aids symptoms such as hers.”

“I'm an experienced healer,” Claire said, turning to face the man. “I would be happy to treat your sister if you just allow me to go ahead of you.”

“Free of charge?” he bargained. “In recognition of my generosity?”

“Of course,” Claire reasoned with the man. He smiled and moved out of the way, allowing her to approach the counter with Anne. She thanked him before turning to Elliot and Marjorie. “Uh, I'll need a bottle of laudanum, some ground yarrow root, and tormentil. And please hurry, a man's life is at stake.”

“Fetch some ground yarrow root from the back, lass,” Elliot told his niece.

“Aye, Uncle,” Marjorie said, rushing into the back room.

“You seem to ken yer remedies,” the man said to Claire as they waited for Elliot and Marjorie to return. “What ails the poor man?”

Claire didn’t look like she wanted to waste time answering, but did so anyway. “Uh, it’s a severe head wound.”

“Aye,” the man said, seemingly completely unaware of the impatience and urgency of both women. “My sister’s condition relates to her head as well. But ‘tis more of a nervous complaint of sorts.”

Just then, Marjorie returned with the small pouch of ground yarrow root and placed it on the counter for them. When she caught Anne’s eyes, she motioned for her friend to walk to the end of the counter so they could speak more privately. Anne followed.

“What happened?” Marjorie asked quietly. “Are you alright? Fergus said you'd been attacked—”

“We're fine,” Anne reassured her. They’d made it out unscathed, unlike their attacker, so there was no use in worrying Marjorie further with the details.

Marjorie nodded, then glanced briefly at Claire. “Suppose that is your mother, then?”

“Aye, it is,” Anne said, unable to keep the smile off her face as she glanced at her mother. Then she realized this was far from the first meeting she’d envisioned when thinking of her mother meeting her dearest friend and she frowned. “I am sorry you couldna meet her properly.”

“It's alright,” Marjorie assured. “You must tell me everything. I want to hear every word.”

“Of course,” Anne told her with a smile.

Just then, Elliot returned with the laudanum and tormentil. “That'll be two shillings, madam.”

Anne walked back over to Claire, reaching for her coin purse, but her mother shook her head and gently pushed Anne's hand away.

“That's alright, sweetheart,” Claire said, reaching for her own coin purse. “I've got it.”

As Claire reached inside and began searching for the correct amount, the four of them noticed how the man who’d allowed them to go in front of him not-so-discreetly leaned closer towards her, as if to get a good look at how much money Claire had in her coin purse. Anne gave the man a sharp glare, finding his behaviour rude at the very least and suspicious at worst.

Finally, Claire found two shillings and paid for everything. She thanked Elliot and Marjorie. Then, Anne helped her mother put everything inside the basket they'd brought with them. As they got ready to leave, Claire turned to the man with a look of gratitude.

“I have to go,” Claire told him, her tone laced with urgency, “but I can pay your sister a visit later.”

“I'd be grateful. You can call on us at Henderson's in Carubbers Close.” Anne and her mother began making their way towards the door. He turned towards them to continue speaking with Claire. “Uh, Campbell is the name. Archibald and Margaret Campbell.”

“Thank you,” Claire told him once more as she opened the door and left.

However, Anne remained in the doorway, offering her friend a smile. “I will see you later, Marjorie! Thank you both!”

“Anytime, lass,” Elliot smiled.

Thunder began to rumble in the sky as the door to the apothecary closed behind them and Anne felt the first drops of rain. She quickly tucked the contents of their basket under the cloth within it in hopes of keeping it all dry before pulling the hood of her cloak over her head. When she turned to look at her mother, she found she had done the same.

“We must hurry,” Claire told her. “We don’t have time to waste.”

Back at the brothel, Anne and Claire returned to Jamie’s room to find the man had woken up. His arms were tied to the bedposts, Jamie was trying to hold down his shoulders while also keeping a hand clamped over his mouth to stop him from making noise while Willoughby held down his legs. The man continued to struggle and continued to make noise despite their efforts.

“What are you doing?” Claire immediately asked.

“Well, the bastard woke and started making considerable noise,” Jamie explained. 

“He’s having a lucid interval. It happens with a brain injury,” Claire said, kneeling on the bed beside Jamie. “You can’t be rough with his head like that!”

“You ken a better way to keep him quiet?” Jamie snarled. He was clearly agitated by this complication and likely still mad from earlier.

Claire circled the bed. “Yes. Anne, bring the basket over here.”

Anne followed dutifully, placing the basket down on the table in front of her mother. While the man continued struggling on the bed, Claire grabbed the bottle of laudanum out of the basket and crossed over to the bed, sitting down. When she requested the stock be removed, Jamie gave her a look, but Claire simply insisted and Jamie finally complied. Claire didn’t give the man a chance to continue once Jamie had removed his hand and the stock, pouring some of the laudanum into his mouth.

The man immediately quieted, even as Jamie placed his hands back over the man’s mouth. Anne took a step closer to the bed, watching as her mother opened one of the man’s eyes.

“Left pupil’s dilated,” Claire noted. “Pressure’s building up inside the skull. I’m going to have to operate immediately. Yi Tien Cho, untie him.”

“Of course, Honorable Wife,” Willoughby said, going to do as asked.

Claire went back to the table where the basket was, shrugging off her coat. As Anne stepped up next to her, already untying her cloak, she noticed the tools which Claire had requested were already there, waiting for them.

“What can I do?” she asked her mother. 

Before she could answer, there was a knocking at the door. Jamie immediately went to see who it was, not opening the door. It was Madame Jeanne’s voice which answered, informing them all that Sir Percival was here to see him. Anne felt a wave of dread wash over her. The boss of the man currently dying on the bed was here? Why? Could his timing have been any worse?

As Jamie told Madame Jeanne he’d be down straightaway and made his exit, Claire turned back to her tools. With her father gone, Anne dropped her cloak onto the chair next to her mother’s.

“Tell me how to help,” she told Claire.

“Wash your hands,” Claire instructed her. “And my tools.”

Nodding, Anne immediately did as she was told, quickly washing her hands and her mother’s tools, being as quick as she could about it while still being thorough and resisting the urge to examine them all for herself. She knew Claire was a more experienced healer than herself, but she’d never seen some of these tools. Especially the trephine, something she didn’t like the look of at all.

Her discomfort or curiosity weren’t important now, though. What was important was their patient. So Anne put it all aside, bringing the cleaned tools over to where Claire was now kneeling on the floor next to the bed.

Watching her mother work was just as fascinating as she’d expected and hoped it would be. She worked with a precision and focus which Anne could only aspire to have. As she worked, she helpfully explained each step of what she was doing and why she was doing it, leaving Anne wishing she could take notes. While at first she’d thought this was just part of her process, when she continued checking to see if Anne had seen or understood what she’d done, Anne realized she was only doing it for her benefit.

Anne had said she’d become a healer because of her, learned everything she knew from her. It seemed — and Anne couldn’t be happier about it — that Claire believed her lessons weren’t over just because she’d returned.

Everything was going well until Claire asked for the trephine. Anne’s curiosity about what her mother was doing had thus far outweighed the way watching her mother pull apart the man’s skin had made her stomach turn, but when she placed the trephine against the man’s skull, Anne couldn’t help but feel as though that was about to change.

“Won’t this kill him?” Willoughby asked.

“No,” Claire said. “But the pressure on his brain will if I don’t release it.”

Sure enough, the sound of the trephine grinding against the bone made Anne want to be sick and she placed the back of her wrist over her mouth, careful to keep her hand away. As much as she wanted to look away, to press her eyes closed and cover her ears, she refused to allow herself to do so, keeping her gaze fixed on the process. This was the only way for her to learn, she told herself.

Finally, after a sickening crunch sound and a few more turns of the trephine, Claire released a breath and pulled the tool away. Blood, dark and crimson, immediately flowed from the wound. This seemed to be the ideal outcome as Claire passed the trephine to Anne, who set it on the table, passing her mother some cloth to bandage the wound with.

“There, the clot’s released,” Claire announced.

Instead of taking the cloth, Claire grabbed the bowl she’d kept next to her and placed it against the edge of the bed, tilting the man’s head towards it and allowing the excess blood flowing from his wound to collect there instead of all over the sheets. Anne expected this process to only take a few seconds, possibly a minute or two, but it didn’t stop. This is when the tension returned to Claire’s shoulders and the urgency returned to her voice and actions.

She grabbed the bandage from Anne’s outstretched hand, quickly pressing it to the wound as she set the bowl aside. As the bandage quickly began to soak through, Claire requested more and Anne hurried to get them for her, passing them all to her as she asked for them until she finally had to inform her mother that they had no more.

The man had gone completely still. This wasn’t just a drugged stillness, but a deathly one. Somehow, despite her mother’s expertise and all their efforts, it had been for naught. They’d done everything they could and still they hadn’t been able to save him.

Anne could see the guilt and regret already on her mother’s face as it grew inside herself. She sat back with a stunned expression, her mind racing over everything they’d done and wondering where they possibly could have gone wrong. There had to be something, right? Something they should have done differently which would have saved him.

Claire’s eyes found her daughter and instantly read the expression on her face. A soft, reassuring smile grew on Claire’s face and she placed a hand over Anne’s, drawing her attention. There was a silent question there, an inquiry as to Anne’s state of mind.

“I’ve never…” Anne started, struggling with the words.

“Lost a patient?” Claire guessed. Anne nodded. “It’s never easy, sweetheart.”

Anne couldn’t help how her eyes were dragged to the now dead body on the bed. “I’ve never treated anything so serious so I’ve never had tae worry about it, but even when Fergus lost his hand, I… I mean, he’s fine. Now, ye wouldna even know he’d lost his hand…”

“You treated Fergus after he lost his hand?” Claire asked.

“No, Aunt Jenny did, mainly. But I helped her, and stayed with him. We changed the bandage every day and made sure the wound wasna festering. I dinna think I let him sleep alone for weeks,” she admitted, smiling fondly at the memory. “I wanted to be sure something wouldna happen in the night, that someone would be there for him… even if it was just nightmares.”

Claire smiled. “Your brother is lucky to have you.”

“Some days he’d disagree with you,” Anne said, thinking of all the times she’d blackmailed him, especially over Marjorie.

“Men rarely know what’s best for them,” Claire told her, making Anne laugh. “Why don’t you make some tea while I clean my tools?”

Anne nodded and stood up again, heading towards where the things she’d brought that morning had been moved to. While she heard the sounds of her mother beginning to wash the blood off her tools, Anne busied herself with stoking the fire and placing the kettle on the hook over the fire. As she waited for the water to be ready, she made sure everything else for the tea was in order, avoiding looking back at the body still laying on the bed. On her father’s bed.

She shook that thought from her head. While her conversation with Claire had made her feel a little better about the outcome, Anne couldn’t help but still feel awful about not being able to save the man. He may have been a bad person who had hurt her mother, wanted to do worse, and who knows what else, he was still a person and he’d been suffering. It was the job of a healer to ease suffering.

He’s not suffering anymore, a voice in her head told her. And while it may have been true, there were ways other than death to stop someone from suffering.

Just as Anne was reaching for the kettle, the door burst open and Jamie came inside in a rush. “Christ,” he said as he closed the door quickly behind him. “I barely got rid of Sir Percival. This ends now.”

Anne dared a glance over at her mother as she avoided her father’s eye. Claire wasn’t looking over at him either, keeping her back to him as she continued washing her tools.

“Sassenach,” Jamie said, trying to get her attention.

When Claire didn’t answer for a moment more, Jamie looked over at Anne, who immediately dropped her gaze, reaching for the kettle instead of looking at her father so he wouldn’t see the guilt in her eyes.

“Well, he’s dead,” Claire finally said. “So you’ve got your wish.”

Silence lapsed between them all again and, once she’d placed the hot kettle down safely, Anne dared a glance over at her father. He’d stepped closer to the bed, looking down at the body upon it. An almost guilty look had crept up on his face as if he was sorry they’d failed, sorry they clearly felt guilty for it, even if this was the outcome he’d wanted all along.

Even though she didn’t want her father to see the guilt she felt, the sudden need for comfort outweighed that feeling and Anne crossed the room swiftly, ducking her head and wrapping her arms around Jamie as she tucked herself against his side. His arms immediately wrapped around her in response, one hand coming up to cradle the back of her head as she rested it against his chest. Now wrapped in her father’s arms, Anne immediately felt better, as if her worries had been pushed away and blocked from returning by her father’s protective hold.

“Honorable Wife, and Anne, fought hard for his life,” Willoughby said, finally breaking the silence in the room. Claire looked over at him in surprise, even as he turned towards her again. “Put best foot forward.”

“Aye, well…” Jamie started. “I’ll no’ grieve for the man who tried to kill my wife and daughter. Fetch Lesley and Hayes. I’ll need help moving the body.”

Jamie didn’t let go of Anne as Willoughby made his way around the bed and towards the door, but his hold did loosen as her own did, allowing her to stand up a little straighter. No one spoke until the door had closed behind Willoughby.

“‘Tis better this way, Sassenach,” Jamie said. He guided Anne slowly closer to Claire, not letting go of her. “Ye tried, but God took him.”

“God has nothing to do with this,” Claire answered, not looking away from her tools. “I failed him. If I’d been in a proper hospital or in Boston, I—”

“Oh, Mama,” Anne said softly. With Claire’s efforts to make Anne feel better, she hadn’t realized how much it was weighing on her, too.

“But ye’re not in Boston,” Jamie reminded her. 

Claire hesitated for a moment. “I don’t expect you to understand, but… I’ve dedicated the past fourteen years to respecting human life, to healing people without judgement. I work hard. I don’t often lose a patient.”

“There’ll be other chances to put your knowledge and skills to use,” Jamie assured her, removing one hand from around Anne to put on Claire’s arm. “Others to save.  Like ye did last time you came.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Claire admitted softly. 

She looked between Jamie and Anne for a moment and her expression softened, the guilt somehow changing. It no longer seemed to be about the man they had failed to save, but her husband and daughter.

“I’ve caused you so much trouble,” she said. “Just dropped in out of the clear blue sky. Put your livelihood, your life, our daughter, in jeopardy—”

“Sassenach,” Jamie cut her off, “you came thousands of miles to find me, to find us. I’m grateful that you are here, no matter the cost. I would give up everything I have for us to be together again.”

“And I wouldn’t change a thing,” Anne insisted. “Getting to finally meet ye, to know ye, is worth all the trouble in the whole world.”

“Don’t ye see?” Jamie asked her, tightening his grip around Anne with one arm, using his other hand to cup the side of Claire’s face gently. “Ever since you left, I… I’ve been living in the shadows. And then you walked into the print shop, and… It was as if the sun returned and cast out the darkness."

Claire gazed at Jamie lovingly, clearly touched by his words. She reached up and held the hand he’d used to cup her face in her own and used her other hand to gently cup Anne’s cheek. As Anne looked between her parents, she couldn’t help the smile growing on her face. There had been moments before Claire returned where she had doubted her brother’s words, thought he had to be exaggerating the love shared between their parents. She had seen what it looked like when people loved each other with their whole hearts. But this, what she was looking at now, went beyond that. This was love which could not simply be contained by the heart, which overflowed the bounds of the heart and seeped into your very soul.

Fergus had told her once that Jamie’s depression following Culloden was because he had lost part of his very soul when he’d lost Claire. She’d never doubted the truth of that, the evidence was right in front of her eyes every time Jamie came out of the woods around Lallybroch, barely speaking a word, an emptiness in his eyes. Standing here, between her parents, seeing the love he’d always spoken about for herself, Anne knew just how true that statement really was.

This was what she wanted, Anne decided. When she was lucky enough to finally fall in love, this was the kind of love she wanted and she wouldn’t settle for anything less. If her parents could find it, so could she.

“I have another patient to see,” Claire said after a long silence. “I won’t be long.”

“Patient?” Jamie asked. “And who might that be?”

“Margaret Campbell,” Claire answered. In all the chaos which had followed their visit to the apothecary, Anne had entirely forgotten about the man who’d been ahead of them in line. “I met her brother at the apothecary, and I offered to examine her.”

“But ye dinna ken who these people are,” Jamie said.

Anne scoffed. “I didna ken any of my patients when I started.”

“Yes, but your brother or cousin accompanied you,” Jamie told Anne before turning to Claire as he sat down at the table. “Ye canna go alone. Fergus will escort you.”

“As you said, I’ve traveled thousands of miles. I can certainly manage to get across town alone,” Claire reminded him.

“Aye, but Sir Percival—”

“Sir Percival doesn’t know who I am. Or…” Claire said, sparing half a glance back at the body on the bed. “Or what I’ve done to the man who worked for him.”

Jamie caught Claire’s arm as she tried to walk past him, an almost haunted look in his eyes. “You will… return… afterward?”

“Of course,” Claire promised, placing her own hand over his once again. The haunted look in Jamie’s eyes had vanished as soon as the promise was said, Claire’s words alone enough to reassure him.

As Claire stepped towards where she’d hung her vest and coat to put them back on, Anne couldn’t help the question that rose up in the back of her mind. She clasped her hands together to stop from wringing them and looked between her parents for a moment. Finally, when Claire reached for her coat, Anne couldn’t hold her tongue any longer.

“Do ye—” she started, drawing her mother’s attention. “Do ye want me to go with you?”

Claire smiled. “I’d love that, sweetheart.”

Watching her mother examine a patient who wasn’t actively dying was quite different from what Anne had seen Claire do so far, and it was refreshing after how hectic the morning had been. Claire seemed to realize what was wrong with Margaret Campbell only moments after seeing her, even with the brief distraction her so-called vision had called when Claire first reached out to touch her.

It was a little alarming, how quickly she’d gone from frantic and near-panicked to unresponsive. Anne couldn’t help but think that her brother wasn’t taking nearly as good of care of her as he should be, worried more about how he could benefit from her visions over what was best for her. He’d even tried to get Claire to give him money to translate what Margaret had told her. Claire hadn’t outright refused, but she had changed the subject instead of giving an answer, which was just about the same as a refusal, Anne thought.

The visit didn’t take very long at all and before Anne knew it, they were back out on the streets, heading away from Carubbers Close.

“I canna believe he’d risk taking his sister all the way to the West Indies in her condition,” Anne said.

“It’s ill-advised, I agree,” Claire said. “Their wealthy client seems to be of more importance to him than his sister’s health.”

Anne sighed. “I always hated patients like that, those who cared more for their gold. I barely charge more than what my supplies cost, just tae have a little spending money of my own and still some people thought I charged too much.”

“There will always be people who don’t know what’s best for them,” Claire agreed, glancing around them before looking at Anne again. “Why don’t I walk you home before I return to the brothel? Your father is probably angry enough as it is with both of us.”

“Ye’re probably right,” Anne agreed. “But he willna stay mad for long, he never does.”

“Yes, I saw this morning. You seem to have him wrapped around your finger.”

Anne smiled proudly. “Him and Fergus. And Young Ian. Fergus has just always been that way, almost over protective, but it wasna hard with Da. He regrets missing so much of my life and while I don’t blame him at all, sometimes I use it to my advantage.”

Claire laughed. “And Young Ian?”

“He’s my best friend, always has been. Aside from Marjorie, of course, but she’s more like a sister to me,” Anne explained, smiling at the idea that one day soon, Marjorie really would be her sister. “All I have to do is make a sad face and he crumbles.”

When Claire laughed again, Anne felt a swell of pride in her chest. She turned a corner which would lead them towards the home she shared with her brother. They walked in silence for a while, until home appeared in the distance.

“There it is,” Anne said, pointing it out to her mother. “It’s no Lallybroch, but it’s good enough for Fergus and I while we’re in Edinburgh.”

“You live with your brother?” Claire asked.

“Da wouldna have it any other way. We lived in the back of the print shop for the first little while until we could afford this place,” Anne explained, then made a pretend grumpy face as she looked over at her mother. “Fergus takes his role as my guardian very seriously.”

Claire smiled. “You’re lucky to have him.”

“I ken. I don’t know what I would have done if you and Da had never brought him home from Paris.”

“He told you about that?”

Anne nodded. “Well, the version he would have told me if I were ten, I could tell he wasna telling me everything, but then I knew about why my brother was a Frenchman, not a Scotsman. I’d never questioned it before, but it was good to have an answer.”

As they reached the door, they stopped. “I’m glad he was a good brother to you,” Claire said.

“Best brother ever,” she admitted. “Though don’t tell him I said that, it’ll go to his head and his ego doesna need to get any bigger.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” Claire agreed with a laugh. “How about I come see you tomorrow morning? You can show me your home and all around Edinburgh?”

“Oh, I’d love that,” Anne said, smiling. “We can have tea with Marjorie and you can meet her properly and even come wi’ me to see one of my patients!”

Claire cupped Anne’s cheek gently, smiling brightly. “That sounds wonderful. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” she confirmed.

Anne gave her mother one last smile before she ducked inside. She placed her basket on the table, hung her coat by the door and then collapsed into her favourite chair with a smile on her face.

That evening, after Fergus had returned home and shared with her the good news about being able to get rid of all the casks and even of their cousin’s luck with one of the barmaids he had been admiring for weeks. Anne couldn’t help but laugh at how it was at Fergus’ encouragement and with his advice, but especially so that the distraction of Young Ian and the barmaid, Brighid, had allowed Fergus and Marjorie to spend some time together alone at the tavern. Not that Fergus had directly said as much, but Anne had been able to read between the lines of what her brother said.

Over dinner, Anne explained the events of the day to Fergus that he had missed, from how they’d been unsuccessful in saving the man who’d broken into Jamie’s room to their visit to Margaret Campbell and her plans with Claire for the next day. Fergus had comforted her over losing her first patient, but by the time the subject came back around to Marjorie, the teasing glint in her eyes at the mention of their mother meeting the woman he was secretly courting was enough to have him forgetting all notions of comforting her, at least for the moment.

“You better not—”

“I won’t tell her,” Anne assured him with a roll of her eyes. “You should get to tell Mama that ye're in love.”

“Mama?” Fergus questioned.

“That’s what she wants me to call her,” Anne explained with a shrug, standing up from the table and gathering their plates. “I asked her this morning.”

As she moved around the table in the direction of the sink, something out the window caught Anne’s attention and she stopped, narrowing her eyes as she tried to figure out what it was. Not a moment after she stopped, her actions drew her brother’s attention and Fergus stood up to see what she was looking at.

“What is that?” she asked.

“It looks like… a fire,” Fergus said.

Before they could say anything else, there was a sudden and frantic knocking at their door. Fergus hurried to answer the door as Anne set the plates down on the table again, following a few steps behind her brother. When Fergus opened the door, they found Willoughby on the other side, looking panicked.

“Fire at Carfax Close,” he told them.

They understood his panic in an instant. Carfax Close was where the print shop was. If there was a fire even near the print shop and it spread, all the paper inside wouldn’t need much to go up. Panic gripped both of them and they quickly grabbed their coats as they ran out into the street in the direction of the print shop.

Anne couldn’t stop thinking the worst things as they ran through the streets, the smell of smoke growing stronger and stronger the closer they got. Worry for not only her father, but Young Ian, who slept in the back of the shop, twisted Anne’s stomach all into knots.

There was a crowd already gathering outside the shop, even as the firefighters tried to push them back to a safe distance. Anne grabbed her brother’s hand as they started making their way through the crowd, trusting he’d lead her through safely, her gaze fixed on the fire eating up the print shop in front of them.

“Milady!” Fergus exclaimed.

Anne’s head snapped up, looking first at her brother and then where he was looking. There, at the front of the crowd, Anne spotted her mother, arms wrapped around herself. She turned at the sound of Fergus’s voice, reaching a hand out for her children as soon as they got in reach.

“We came as soon as we heard,” Fergus told her. “Where’s Milord?”

“He went inside to get Young Ian,” Claire told them.

“What?” Anne exclaimed, looking away from her mother to the building engulfed in flames.

They could only watch in horror, fear eating up at them, as the fire continued to spread despite the firefighters’ best efforts. When they tried to push the crowd back, they resisted as best they could, eyes locked on the print shop, hoping for a sign of Jamie and Young Ian any second, praying it would before the flames consumed the building entirely.

Finally, when Anne thought her heart couldn’t get any higher in her throat, the door to the print shop burst open.

“There they are, there!” Fergus exclaimed, pointing towards the door.

Sure enough, Jamie was making his way down the stairs with Young Ian slung over his shoulder. Relief flooded through Anne at the sight of her father and cousin alive.

“Jamie!” Claire exclaimed, fighting against the firefighter trying to hold back the crowd. “Oh, thank God.”

When they finally got close enough, Anne didn’t even see the rest of the crowd or even the burning print shop any longer. As Claire shouted for people to get out of the way, they hurried towards the stone wall which was opposite the shop and eased them down against the wall, also at Claire’s instruction. As soon as Young Ian was down off Jamie’s shoulder, they both sagged down to the ground and started coughing.

Both Anne and Claire immediately followed, kneeling down next to them to begin making sure they were okay. As she began checking her father over, she heard another familiar voice from behind them and turned to see that Marjorie was here, holding onto Fergus tightly as he held her back, relief written all over her face. After a moment, Marjorie pulled back and cupped Fergus’ face in her hands.

“Are you… are you hurt? Are you burned?” she asked.

“No,” Fergus said reassuringly. “I wasn't trapped inside. I am fine, ma chérie.”

Anne couldn’t help but smirk as Marjorie hugged Fergus once again. She caught sight of her mother, and was amused to discover that Claire was watching Fergus and Marjorie with an almost knowing smile. Fergus wasn’t as good at hiding his secret relationship as he thought, even if he’d managed to hide it from their father so far. Anne fought down her smirk before anyone else could see it, returning to tending to her father.

He seemed to be doing better than Young Ian, which was a relief but probably due to being inside the shop for less time. She used her sleeve to wipe some soot from her father’s face as she felt Marjorie place a reassuring hand on her shoulder and Anne turned to give her a weak smile to let her know she appreciated the gesture.

“Are you all right?” Claire asked Young Ian as she continued to examine him.

Young Ian nodded. “I think so. But it isn't me ye need to worry about,” he said, shakily. He turned to look at Jamie sitting beside him on the ground. “A man with a blind eye broke into your print shop, Uncle.”

“What?” Jamie asked.

“He found yer pamphlets,” Young Ian gravely informed.

“How?”

Claire brushed his hair back as Young Ian spoke. “We started fighting. He threw me against the panels, and they opened.”

Before he could say anything more, Young Ian started coughing again as Claire rubbed his back soothingly.

“All right, lad,” Jamie said. “Calm down.”

“But he works for Sir Percival.”

As if the day couldn’t get worse, Anne thought to herself as she exchanged a worried look with her father and mother. Fergus knelt down beside her and in front of Jamie.

“Milord,” Fergus said, wide-eyed, “if he gives the material to Sir Percival, he'll be able to arrest you for more than smuggling.”

Jamie seemed to agree. “Aye. Sedition is far worse. High treason is a capital crime. Sir Percival arrests me, he'll be awarded a king's ransom.”

Young Ian gave Jamie a guilty look. “I'm heart sorry, Uncle Jamie. I tried to stop him.”

“Dinna fash, lad. It wasn't yer fault.” Jamie coughed as he pushed himself off the ground.

Anne and Fergus immediately reached out, helping their father to his feet. They leaned him against the wall as he continued to cough.

“What will you do, Milord?” Fergus asked.

Jamie thought about it for a moment. “I'll leave with these two for Berwick tonight.”

Claire gave Jamie a look. “Jamie, you have to bring Young Ian home, to his parents… where he'll be safe.”

“Aye, all right,” Jamie said after a moment of consideration. “I'll take the lad home to Lallybroch. Sir Percival will not be able to trace me there. He only kens me as Alexander Malcolm of Edinburgh. But first, I have some business to settle.”

Anne watched her father pull Willoughby and Fergus a few paces away to discuss something in private. A glance at Marjorie confirmed she was thinking the same thing. Whatever they were talking about was likely in relation to the casks they’d been trying to get rid of all day. Anne turned her attention back to her friend.

“Thank you for coming,” Anne said.

“Of course,” Marjorie replied. “I was so worried when I heard.”

“Anne, Marjorie, will one of you fetch some water for Young Ian?” Claire asked, glancing at them. “He needs something to drink to help his throat.”

“I'll go,” Marjorie offered, placing a hand on her friend's arm. “Stay with yer Ma. I'm sure she will need yer help with Ian and yer Da.”

Anne smiled, squeezing her hand. “Thank you.”

While Marjorie disappeared in search of water for Young Ian, Anne knelt down next to her cousin again, running a hand through his red hair which was caked with soot in an attempt to soothe him, the same as her mother was doing. Anne couldn’t help but feel bad that what should have been a good night for her cousin after finally talking to the girl he liked had turned into him almost dying in a fire.

Before she could worry about it for too long, Marjorie returned with a bucket of water and ladle which she handed off to them. Claire helped Ian take a drink, instructing him to sip slowly. He coughed, but otherwise drank fine.

It wasn’t but a few more moments before she heard her brother’s voice behind her and turned to see him leading Marjorie away. 

“Where are you going?” Anne asked immediately, standing up again.

“He's taking her home, leannain,” Jamie assured his daughter. “As I'm doing with you and yer mother. With yer cousin.”

Marjorie turned to look at Anne, and she sighed. “Suppose I will see you when you return from Lallybroch.”

“Aye,” Anne sighed, stepping forward to hug her friend. “See you soon.”

“Give everyone my regards.”

“I will,” Anne promised.

The two parted ways, and then Marjorie left with Fergus. Anne watched them leave for a moment, but when they disappeared into the darkness away from the fire, she turned her attention back to the rest of her family. Though she wanted to comfort her cousin, she couldn’t help but be drawn to her father as she noticed him take a few steps towards the shop, stopping to stare at it with an almost heartbroken expression on his face.

For almost a year they had been living in Edinburgh and running the print shop. Anne herself had lived there for some time. And it was all gone now, consumed by the flames.

Anne walked over to Jamie, wrapping her arms around him and leaning her head against his chest, ignoring the awful smell of smoke which clung to his clothes, a reminder of the danger he’d just been in. Jamie wrapped his arms around his daughter in return, his eyes still fixated on the shop.

“It’ll be okay, Da,” she promised him. “Everything will work out.”