CHAPTER THREE
CASTLE LEOCH

✷ ✩ ✷ ✩ ✷

Aoife adjusted to life in Castle Leoch remarkably well. She'd already had some time to adjust to the new time she was in so once at the castle, she fell into an even easier rhythm than before. It wasn't as hard as she'd thought it would be, putting all her plans of getting back home on hold. As much as she wanted to get back to her father and her best friend, she knew that she'd never rest easy in the future if she didn't know that Jamie was okay, that he had survived his injury despite how little she could do. If she went back before she got to see him again, she'd hold the fear that he'd died because she couldn't help him more for the rest of her life. And besides, she had no way of getting back to the stones anyways, if that was even the way back.

With just a few words to the castle's cook, Ciaran had gotten Aoife a position in the kitchen. She liked working with Mrs Fitz, she was a nice woman, if a little over the top. Aoife got the impression that Ciaran was well liked around Leoch as there were always people that were smiling and calling out to him to say hello as he made his way to or from the kitchen or as Aoife walked through the halls with him. Or, well, she got the impression that certain people around Leoch liked Ciaran. While the people that seemed to like him stood out more in Aoife's memory, she caught the dirty looks and the people that he steered her away from talking to while she was with him.

Sometimes Aoife would catch herself in the room she'd been given, staring at her fully dressed reflection in the mirror on her vanity and admiring how she looked. She didn't let anyone catch her staring, not wanting anyone to think she was vain, knowing how rumours got around this castle. But when she was sure she was alone, Aoife would stare, amazed, at how the clothes looked not only good — or more than good, really — in them, but how much she looked like she belonged in them. After more than two decades of dressing in modern clothes on a near consistent basis, she couldn't help her surprise at how normal she looked dressed in the clothes of the eighteenth century.

The season was just turning to spring when they got the letter from France. It had come to Collum, been addressed to him, but she hadn't expected anything less. Aoife had been in the kitchen where she usually was during the day when Ciaran had come rushing in, dodging around people and chairs and things that all seemed to be in his way. In his hand, he clutched a piece of parchment that was definitely more wrinkled than it had been before.

"Effie, Effie!" he shouted, getting her attention.

"Ciaran," she said as she smiled, delighted to see him.

"This came today!" he told her, brandishing the paper.

"Well, getting mail certainly is fun," she said, not understanding his excitement as she set down the bowl she'd been carrying.

"No," he said, shaking his head and laughing. "It's from France. From Murtagh!"

Aoife was suddenly thankful she'd already set down the bowl as she was sure she would have dropped it upon hearing that. She immediately hurried over to Ciaran and took the letter, reading over it quickly, her grin widening as she got further through it. When she'd finished, she turned to Ciaran, her smile practically splitting her face apart and threw her arms around him in an elated hug.

"He's okay! Jamie isnae dead!" she exclaimed.

Ciaran wrapped his arms around her in return, spinning her around a few times. He set her back on her feet and she leaned back enough to see his face. She hadn't quite noticed it before but he seemed to be smiling as wide as she was.

"He got another miracle," she said.

"I told you he would."

Someone cleared their throat and they both turned and saw Mrs Fitz and everyone else in the kitchen watching them. Quickly, the two took a step back from each other so there was an appropriate amount of space between them again. Aoife handed the letter back to Ciaran, a weight lifting off her shoulders. She hadn't failed him, she hadn't failed Jamie. He had survived. He had actually survived.

"Are they coming back here when he's all healed?" she asked, her elation at him truly being okay making her forget the rest of the contents of the letter.

"They should be back in Scotland by late spring."

✷ ✩ ✷ ✩ ✷

It was a rather glum day in the beginning of May when many things finally clicked into place for Aoife. She was dropping off some blankets to one of the upper floors of Leoch as a favour for Mrs Fitz when she happened to look out a window that overlooked the courtyard. There, she saw a group of men coming in on horseback and immediately recognized them as Dougal's group, this only being affirmed when she saw Dougal himself in the back of the group. She quickly scanned over all the other men, catching sight of Murtagh and then her eyes were drawn to a familiar head of red hair.

Jamie. His arm looked to be in a makeshift sling, part of his kilt pulled up over his shoulders and those of a woman that was sat in front of him in what Aoife first thought was just a slip. As someone helped the woman get down off the horse and she looked around confused, Aoife finally caught a good look at her face and her eyes immediately widened.

Claire Randall. She couldn't believe it. It was her mysterious disappearance and then reappearance at the supposed hands of fairies that had brought Aoife to Craigh na Dun in the first place. Everything suddenly made sense. She had fallen through the stones just as Aoife had, only she'd done it almost eighty years earlier. No wonder she had vanished as thoroughly as she did. What evidence was left behind when you were magically transported back in time?

She wasted no time in gathering her skirts and hurrying down the stairs in the direction of any of the doors that led out into the courtyard. When she was finally out in the fresh air, Mrs Fitz was already there and embracing with Rupert. Standing there, mere feet away from Jamie once again, she decided that confronting Claire Randall could wait for just a few more moments.

"Jamie!" she shouted.

He turned and saw her, a smile growing quickly on his face as she ran towards him and practically launched herself at him in a hug. He caught her with the arm that wasn't in the sling and hugged her back, laughing a little, her feet dangling just above the ground. When he set her down, he was still smiling brightly and she couldn't be more relieved to see for herself that he was really okay.

"How's Ciaran?" he immediately asked.

"Good," she told him. "He's around here somewhere. I'm sure he'll come running as soon as he hears that you've all arrived. Not that he should be running, but ye ken he never listens about that."

"Aye, I do. How about you, how are you fairing with life at Leoch?"

"Never a dull moment around here, though I daresay I am treating less stupid injuries than when I was travelling with you," she teased.

Before Jamie could respond, their attention was caught by the words of Mrs Fitz.

"And what do we have here?" she asked.

She was looking at Claire, who was standing awkwardly a few feet away from Jamie and Aoife. As Mrs Fitz approached, Claire tensed up, looking a bit defensive. What Aoife had previously thought was a slip was actually a normal dress, the hem of it ripped and Aoife realized it was the same colour and material as Jamie's makeshift sling.

"Claire Beauchamp, Mistress Fitzgibbons," Jamie introduced them. "Murtagh found her and Dougal said we must bring her along with us, so..."

"So," Mrs Fitz agreed, glancing a little suspiciously at Claire and her lack of era-appropriate clothing. "Well... Claire. Come with me. We shall find you something to eat, something to wear that's a bit more... Well, a bit more."

"Well, what about him?" Claire asked, looking back at Jamie.

Jamie scoffed. "I can fend for myself."

"Oh, please," Aoife said, rolling her eyes.

"No, you're hurt," Claire insisted, looking back towards Mrs Fitz. "He was shot yesterday."

"You were what?" Aoife demanded.

"I'll be fine," Jamie insisted, looking between Aoife and Claire.

"No, you won't," Claire said. "I bandaged his shoulder but I wasn't able to clean it or dress it properly. I must tend to it before it gets infected. I mean, inflamed. You know, with, with fever and swelling."

"Oh, aye," Mrs Fitz said, nodding in understanding. "I ken fine what ye mean. But do you mean to say you know what to do for that?"

Claire nodded. Of course, Aoife thought, remembering now. Claire was a combat nurse. She served in the second world war.

"Are ye a charmer, then? A beaton?" Mrs Fitz asked Claire.

"Something like that," Claire said with a shrug.

"Jamie, ye heard the lady. Ye need tending. This way," Mrs Fitz said, leading Claire inside. "Let's get you out of the rain."

Jamie looked at Aoife and she simply raised her brows at him, putting her hands on her hips. With a sigh, Jamie passed her, following after Claire and Mrs Fitz.

After finding a free room, the fire was quickly stoked and a pot of water was put over it. Claire requested some herbs to boil some rags with and Mrs Fitz hurried off to get them. Claire stayed by the fire, likely as an attempt to finally rid herself of the chill she must have been feeling from being out in the rain in nothing but her simple dress. Aoife helped Jamie get his shirt off without pulling his injury too much, and then grabbed a smaller blanket for him to drape over his other shoulder to help keep him warm.

Mrs Fitz returned before long with what Claire had requested and put them in the pot where Claire began stirring it all together, placing the bandages, or rags, Aoife supposed was more accurate, inside as well.

"As you asked, garlic and witch hazel to boil the rags," Mrs Fitz said. "I also brought you comfrey and cherry bark for the pain."

"Perfect," Claire said.

"Call out if you need anything else," Mrs Fitz said, patting Jamie's arm once before heading towards the door. "Come along, Aoife, let the woman tend to Jamie." 

A little reluctantly, Aoife went to follow after the older woman before she stopped and turned back towards Jamie, giving him a soft smile.

"I'm really glad that you're alright after... well, until we got Murtagh's letter I was worried I hadn't been able to do enough for you, so I'm just really glad you're okay," she told him.

"You're not gonna get rid of me that easily, Effie," he said with a smile.

She turned then, following after Mrs Fitz towards the door. They were stopped in the doorway by Claire's voice.

"Thank you, Ms Fitzgibbons," Claire said.

"Everybody calls me Mrs Fitz," she said, pausing for a moment. "You may also."

As Mrs Fitz swept out of the room, Aoife lingered in the doorway, promising that she would be back with some clothes and food for Claire soon before she closed the door and headed back down the hallway in search of the kitchens.

✷ ✩ ✷ ✩ ✷

When Aoife had gotten down to the kitchens, she'd been told to lay off on preparing any food for Claire as she was likely going to sleep for a while first. That she understood. After the turmoil of travelling back in time and realizing she may never see those she loved again, when she'd finally laid down to sleep, she had passed right out and had to be awoken by Ciaran in the morning, well after everyone else had woken up. It was an exhausting ordeal and Claire deserved to get some sleep.

Just a little while later, Jamie had come down with his bandages all tied up and looking for some food. Aoife had just been preparing him a bowl of stew when Ciaran finally came crashing into the room. She watched with a smile as the two cousins immediately embraced, setting the bowl of stew down in front of Jamie's seat while the two conversed in rushed Gaelic. As the conversation went on, Aoife couldn't help but roll her eyes.

"For fuck's sake, you two," she said, getting their attention. "Ciaran pull up a chair and let Jamie eat if yer going to keep talking."

Grumbling at her a little in jest, the boys did as they were told and sat down, allowing Aoife to set the bowl of stew down in front of Jamie. As he began shovelling food into his mouth, Ciaran kept talking, catching his cousin up on anything interesting that had happened in the time he'd been away from Leoch.

Aoife helped fill in some of the details that Ciaran left out or was from stories that she had told him and he hadn't actually been there for. By the time Jamie finished his stew, they were all in good spirits, laughing with each other as if no time had passed. It was an odd comfort, as were most she found these past days.

Before long, the conversation turned to Ciaran's health. Jamie was eager to know how he had been faring after his months away.

"I've been fine, Jamie, I'm not the one who nearly died," Ciaran argued.

"And I got better," Jamie argued back. "Your breathing doesn't."

"You worry too much."

"Effie, d'you want to give me the real answer?"

Ciaran sighed. "Why are you—"

"Truthfully, I'd say fine covers it," Aoife interrupted him. "He doesnae have cause to strain himself as much here as he did on the road. Sometimes he has trouble if he's doing too many stairs at once or lifting too many heavy things but I'm not the only one here who has to tell him not to push himself too far."

"See, was that so hard?" Jamie asked Ciaran causing him to roll his eyes.

"It was unnecessary is what it was."

Aoife laughed. "It's not such a bad thing that your cousin worries about you, Ciaran. It means he cares. Not everyone has people that care about them that much."

"I— uh, we care about you, Aoife," Ciaran said.

"Which I appreciate greatly," she said, giving him a smile at his awkward attempt at covering up what he'd first wanted to stay and the resulting flush in his cheeks. "But you're family. And that's something I dinnae have."

"Yer family has to still be out there, worrying about you and looking for you," Ciaran told her, reaching over to place his hand over hers. "We'll find them, I'm sure."

"At this point... I'm not."

That admission caused Aoife to look down and away from the two men, pulling her hand away from Ciaran's. There was no doubt in her mind that her father was worried out of his mind about where she had gone, looking for her constantly, doing whatever necessary. Lane was surely blaming herself even though there was nothing she could have done. She even wondered if Ryan cared about what had happened or if her disappearing was the thing he needed to accept his failure to get her back and had moved on.

Wouldn't that be ironic? She'd been praying since their breakup that he would leave her alone, just accept that they were through and what finally did it was her no longer there for him to pester. At least this way she still got him to stop pestering her.

She looked up in surprise when she heard the stool that Jamie had been sitting on scraping against the stone floor. Jamie was standing up and quickly making his way around the table that had been between them to wrap his good arm around her.

"If they dinnae care enough to be worried, who cares about them?" Jamie told her. "You've got us."

"Thank you, Jamie," she said.

It didn't take long after that for Mrs Fitz to return and start ushering the two men out of her kitchen so that they could start preparing for the next meal of the day. Aoife promised that she'd see them later and watched them leave before she turned back to her job. She was kept busy after that, barely breaking to have something to eat herself before it was dinnertime.

After they had gotten the first round of dinner out to those residing in Leoch, Mrs Fitz ushered Aoife away, telling her to go eat with everyone and have a proper rest. Aoife thanked the older woman profusely which just made her shoo Aoife away even quicker. With a smile, Aoife hurried into the dining hall to actually sit down and eat.

In the dining hall, she caught sight of Ciaran sitting with his uncle so she hurried over to them, sitting down next to Murtagh and across from Ciaran.

"Evening," she greeted them both.

"Evening," Ciaran said. "It's a good dinner tonight."

"Oh, I'm glad you like it."

Aoife's attention drifted away, finding the figure of Claire Beauchamp sitting down at the head table next to Colum, Dougal pushing her chair in for her. Aoife was more than just excited to finally get a moment alone with Claire to confront her about the fact that they'd both travelled through time. It killed her already that she hadn't gotten the chance.

"So, Claire. Heard you found her on the road," Aoife said, looking at Murtagh as she bit into her bannock.

"Aye," Murtagh said but didn't elaborate.

"What happened?" Aoife asked, trying to prompt him into explaining.

"Saved her from that bastard Black Jack Randall," Murtagh said. "She fixed up Jamie's shoulder."

"How descriptive," Aoife said. "It's like I'm there with you. You know, you paint such a vivid image when you tell stories, Murtagh."

Murtagh narrowed his eyes at her. "Didnae miss your sass while I was away, watchin' over Jamie."

"Oh, admit it, Murtagh, you missed me."

"I miss the silence I had in France," Murtagh said.

Aoife only laughed, bumping Murtagh with her shoulder as she bit into her bannock once again, turning her eyes to Ciaran, who was watching her with a warm smile. Upon seeing that he'd gotten caught watching her, his expression fell and he looked down at his plate, a flush rising on his cheeks. A smile grew on Aoife's face at that, her own cheeks warming as she looked down at her bannock.

"There's something else I didnae miss," Murtagh said, looking between Aoife and Ciaran.

"Uncle!" Ciaran protested.

Movement from elsewhere in the room caught Aoife's attention and she looked towards it to see that Claire was walking away from the head table, clearly having been dismissed by Colum. As Claire disappeared out of the dining hall, Aoife quickly shot up, shoving the last of her food into her mouth and muttering an excuse to Ciaran and Murtagh before she rushed off after Claire.

It took her a while to find where the other woman had gone, and by the time she caught up to her, she was heading into the bedroom she'd dressed Jamie's wounds in earlier that day. As the door was partially closed when Aoife reached it, she knocked first, waiting to hear Claire call out that she could come in.

"Is there something I can help you with?" Claire asked when she saw it was Aoife who had been knocking at her door.

"Yeah, sorry. We met earlier when you were treating Jamie's wounds."

"Right, right, I'm sorry, it's been a long day."

"I imagine so, with everything you've been through."

"Effie, right?"

"Aoife," she corrected. "Effie is just a nickname." 

"Oh, it's a beautiful name."

"Thank you."

Silence lapsed between them as they looked at each other, both wondering what to say next. As the awkward tension grew, Aoife could bear it no longer.

"So, Beauchamp, huh?" she said. "That was clever, using your maiden name instead of your married name."

"Excuse me?"

"Well, truly your name is Claire Randall," Aoife pointed out. "But Randall's not a name that's gaun to get you anything but trouble around here so it was a good idea not to use it."

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about," Claire said.

"Yeah, you do," Aoife said. "And I know that because I read about your disappearance in Inverness while doing research on Craigh Na Dun. I was wondering when we would finally meet."

Claire blinked, shocked. "What?"

"I'm... like you, I suppose. Except I was taken from the twenty-first century, not the twentieth like you were," Aoife explained.

"You—" Claire started before cutting herself off, staring at Aoife in shock. "It happened to you, too?"

"I was actually there at Craigh Na Dun because of the research I was doing on your disappearance," Aoife said. "And I got the answers I was looking for, but... I didnae anticipate the true cost of it."

"Did they interrogate you, too?" Claire asked.

"No, actually," Aoife said. "I have been feigning amnesia. It's allowed me to get away with a lot of my confusion and got me some sympathy right off the bat. Although it does help that I'm not English, I think."

"Oh, of course," Claire agreed, looking a little disappointed. "Quite the distrustful group, aren't they?"

"Of Englishmen? I'd say so, yeah."

Claire sat down on the end of the bed and so Aoife crossed to sit down next to her. Though silence once more lapsed between them, it was more comfortable than the last silence that had passed between the two women.

"How long have you been here?" Claire finally asked.

"At Leoch or in the past?"

"Both, I suppose."

"I arrived in autumn," Aoife told her. "I'm honestly not too sure exactly when because I dinnae think it was the exact same date that I left in the future and, well, it's not like we've got calendars and phones everywhere to keep meticulous track of the days here. But I know it was autumn."

"So it's been months for you."

"I suppose so, yeah."

"And you... haven't figured out how to get home?" Claire asked her.

Aoife let out a breath. "Honestly, I haven't even gotten to a point where I can think about it. Between Ciaran's breathing troubles and what happened to Jamie I just— I knew I'd never be able to be totally at peace without knowing they were okay. I may have only barely gotten through one year of medical school but helping people is still important to me and that's been hard to reconcile with, you know, being in the past and all."

"Oh, I see."

"Yeah, and this is the first time I've seen Jamie since we sent him off to France to get better."

"So, you're a doctor, then?" Claire asked her.

"I was going to be," Aoife admitted, looking down at her lap. "I, uh, only lasted a year in school. It was too much pressure for me. So I went back home and worked for my da and his magazine."

There was a moment of silence before Claire continued. "When I talked to Colum, he told me about a merchant of some kind that will be here in a few days before he continues on to Inverness. I was thinking that would be a good place to start with getting home."

"Yes, I agree," Aoife said. "Would you... would you mind if I joined you?"

"Not at all," Claire immediately assured her. "Two heads are better than one, after all. We stand a better chance at figuring this out if we do it together."

✷ ✩ ✷ ✩ ✷

The next morning, Aoife found Claire getting ready in her room and she didn't look very happy at all. At Aoife's prompting, the other woman explained that she was being followed around by Dougal's men because he believed her to be an English spy. Because Claire was terribly offended by this accusation, Aoife didn't mention that it wasn't totally out of pocket. She had appeared out of nowhere with an accent of a country that the citizens of the one she was in weren't too fond of. There was bound to be some paranoia about.

Mrs Fitz wasted absolutely no time in putting Claire to work for her just as she had for Aoife. The older woman decided that the best way to do it was to put her to work with Aoife, though the redhead suspected that was just an excuse to get rid of her for a little while and still have her be useful. But Aoife didn't mind getting to spend more time with Claire. She felt such comfort in being around someone who had been through the same thing that she had. It was like a weight off of her shoulders to not have to worry about everything she said all of the time when it was just the two of them. And being able to talk about how crazy what had happened to them was.

Claire was also determined to seem as normal as possible so that Dougal's men — Angus and Rupert — didn't have anything to report back about. At least not anything of interest. Anything that would make Dougal feel validated in his suspicions about her. As Claire put all of this effort into it, Aoife felt thankful that she happened to be a Scot as well and been able to avoid this same level of suspicion. It seemed like tiring work.

The favourite job of Mrs Fitz to send Claire and Aoife on was harvesting food for the kitchens. Claire explained to Aoife that she enjoyed touching growing things once again after her stint in the war. Aoife understood that, after so much death, she was happy to be helping things thrive instead. And Aoife was more than happy to be her normal bubbly self as they walked through the fields, barely resisting the urge to just roll through the grass. The urge she didn't resist though, was the one to twirl through the taller grass, turning her face up to the sun as she smiled, feeling even more satisfaction when she saw the smile on Claire's face as she watched.

A ways away from the castle but still in sight of the tall stone walls, Claire stopped at a tree to examine some mushrooms that she spotted growing there. Aoife dutifully stood next to her, holding the basket out for her to place their harvest into. As Claire picked one of the mushrooms out of the tree, there was a voice from behind them that startled them both.

"Those kind are poison."

In her surprise, Claire hit her head on a smaller but still sturdy branch and Aoife winced as she turned to see a woman with a shawl over her head, covering her mouth to try and stifle her laughter.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to laugh."

"I imagine it was funny from over there," Claire said.

"Well, it was a little bit funny from right here..." Aoife muttered.

Claire gave her a disapproving look that only made her smile before she turned to the other woman once again. "Thanks for the warning, though, but I do know those mushrooms are poisonous."

"Who is it you're planning to do away with?" she asked. "Your husband, perhaps? Tell me if it works and I'll try it on mine."

She pushed the shawl off her head, revealing a head of red hair close in shade to Aoife's own as they made their way over to where she was sitting.

"Actually," Claire said, kneeling down next to one of the fences that enclosed some of the plants. "Now, while the caps of these mushrooms are poisonous, you can make a powder out of the dried fungi. It's very effective in stopping bleeding when applied topically."

"Fancy that. My name is Geillis. Geillis Duncan," she introduced and Aoife furrowed her brow, the name sounding familiar to her.

"I'm sorry, I should have introduced myself," Claire said. "My name is—"

"I know who you are, Claire," Geillis said. "The village has been humming with talk of ye since you came to the castle."

"Aoife, if anyone cared to know. Aoife Macbeth," she said.

"What is it they're saying about me?" Claire asked.

"That you're likely a Sassenach spy," Geillis told them bluntly.

She stood up and walked over to where they were standing, looking down into the basket that Aoife was holding, likely to appraise what they had been collecting. Aoife tried to place her face, wondering why her name had seemed so familiar to her, but still nothing was coming to mind. If this continued, she was going to lose her mind. How did anyone deal with this feeling before the internet?

"You know," Geillis said, gesturing to some plants growing behind them. "Those will start bleeding to get rid of a child you don't want. Brings on your flux. But only if you use it early. Too late and it can kill you as well as the child. The girls in the village come to me every now and again for such things. They say I'm a witch."

"Are you?" Claire asked.

"Hardly," Geillis admitted after a bit too long of a pause in Aoife's opinion. "Although I am aware of wood betony can transform toads into pigeons. You should come visit me sometime down in the village. I have a cabinet full of potions and medicinals I wager would tickle yer fancy. But I hope I'll see you — both of you — tonight at the hall."

"The hall?" Claire asked.

"Did no one tell you?" Aoife asked. Claire shook her head. Aoife made an exaggerated wincing face. "That might have been my job, sorry."

✷ ✩ ✷ ✩ ✷

That night, Aoife got dressed with the rest of the castle and the village and headed down to the main hall of Castle Leoch to watch court take place. Aoife wasn't sure if that was the technical term but that was the term that made the most sense in her mind. Those that lived on the land ruled but Colum would come to the castle and present their problems to him in hopes that he would solve them.

As Aoife made her way through the crowd with Claire, they finally caught sight of Geillis who waved them over. The older two women greeted each other as Aoife's eyes wandered around the hall and across the faces of the people she had come to know. Across the room, she saw Ciaran standing with his uncle and cousin. As if he could sense someone watching him, he looked over at her and smiled when he saw that it was her. She smiled back, raising one hand in a small wave. When he waved back, his uncle caught sight and gave him an unimpressed look that made Aoife laugh.

"Ah, the young Dunsmore boy," Geillis said, obviously having seen the interaction. "He's a looker, isn't he?"

"I... suppose so," Aoife said, looking at Ciaran once again. "I hadn't really thought about it."

"He's a nice boy," Geillis continued. "It's a shame he's not married yet."

"He's got time to get married still," Aoife said, scoffing at Geillis' statement.

"No, of course, he does. I meant his betrothal. Didn't you hear about it?"

Something fell into the pit of her stomach and settled there like lead. She didn't know what the feeling was, why she felt so hurt that she wouldn't have known about this, that he wouldn't have told her. She felt herself second-guessing so many things, stuff she hadn't thought wrong in any way in the moment. She wondered what could have kept him from mentioning it, kept everyone around them from ever mentioning it to her.

"Betrothal?" she was finally able to ask.

"His father arranged it. It was supposed to be a match to remember. Then she met him and, well... she didn't like the idea of having a cripple for a husband. Her words, not mine. Within days the girl convinced her father to call the whole thing off."

The pit in Aoife's stomach hardened and she felt an anger flash through her like fire. To try and calm herself, she balled her hands up into fists at her sides until her nails bit into her palms and her knuckles turned white. She sucked in a breath and held it for a moment before letting it out slowly.

Claire seemed to notice her expression and put a hand on her arm. She dimly heard the dark-haired woman say her name with a tone of concern.

"He's... he's not a cripple. Ciaran is perfectly capable, he just— has to be careful. She is... I can't believe she would..."

"Well, now I see why they didn't tell you..." Geillis muttered.

Before anyone could say anything further, the bagpipes started playing announcing that it was time for Colum to enter. The room was silent but for the bagpipes as they all watched Colum walk to the other side of the room, Dougal following a few steps behind him. When he got there, he sat in the chair set out for him — quite reminiscent of a throne — and a fur blanket was laid across his lap while Dougal took his spot next to him. With a simple gesture of his hand, Colum silenced the piper.

"Masters William Talbot and Fingal Duncan, will ye stand forth?" the caller announced.

Two men stepped forward and began explaining to Colum whatever their issue was in Gaelic. Not understanding the language, Claire turned to look at Aoife and Geillis for a translation.

"They're neighbours," Geillis explained quietly. "Having a dispute over a cow."

"A cow?" Claire questioned.

At the front of the room, Colum answered the two men and caused not only them but the entire room to start laughing. Well, the whole room except for Claire, who looked once more to Aoife and Geillis for an explanation.

"He says..." Geillis started before trailing off. "Well, let me see."

"It's all right," Claire said. "I have the feeling something would be lost in translation."

"You're not missing much," Aoife assured her, leaning over and lowering her voice even more. "Humour has evolved by our times."

Claire gave her a thankful smile and they both turned their attention back to what was happening before them. As court went on, Aoife and Geillis took turns explaining what was going on to Claire, Aoife jumping in more often that not when Geillis struggled with the translation into English since she had more experience with that kind of a thing.

Things continued on as normal for a while longer until a man brought a young woman forward by her arm. Aoife recognized the girl as someone she had routinely seen around the castle as Laoghaire MacKenzie. She'd always seemed like a nice enough girl so Aoife wondered what she could possibly be forcibly brought before Colum for.

As the man began explaining, Geillis spoke up quietly. "Uh-oh. Her father accuses her of loose behaviour."

"Of all the accusations..." Aoife said, rolling her eyes. It was times like this that she had to remind herself of the time period that she was in. Just because people cared much less about 'loose behaviour' when she was from, didn't mean it had always been so.

"Her father wishes the MacKenzie to have her punished for disobedience," Geillis finished.

As Colum deliberated on his decision, Aoife noticed Claire's gaze, beginning to look concerned, drifting across the room and followed it to find it on Ciaran, Jamie and Murtagh. She realized why the moment Colum announced what the punishment would be for Laoghaire and both Murtagh and Ciaran grabbed onto Jamie's coat to try and hold him back.

"I'm going to kill him..." she muttered.

"He's going to get himself killed," Claire agreed, also understanding what they were seeing.

Laoghaire struggled as two men came forward to grab her from her father, each of them gripping one of her arms. Before anyone could do anything, Jamie quickly spoke up, stopping everything. Aoife watched disapprovingly as Jamie broke free of Murtagh and Ciaran's grips to step into the middle of the room.

Jamie spoke to both Colum and the rest of the room, offering, in more words, that he should take the punishment. Aoife definitely envisioned punishing Jamie herself for being such an idiot. It was the only thing that stopped her from marching into the middle of the room right then. She hadn't decided how many times she was going to hit him yet.

"He's offering to take the girl's punishment," Geillis explained for Claire.

"What? But he's still injured."

"Mm-hm," Geillis agreed.

"I'm so going to kill him," Aoife said.

There was another conversation between Laoghaire's father and Jamie as he tried to convince Colum to let him take the punishment. As they argued it, Geillis provided the occasional explanation to Claire about how things were progressing. Finally, after Dougal had whispered something to Colum, he announced that he would allow Jamie to take the punishment. Geillis explained to Claire and Aoife swore at Jamie even though she knew he couldn't hear.

Laoghaire ran off and Jamie spoke again, requesting fists instead of the strap as the means of delivering the punishment. Aoife shook her head, adding a few to how many times she was planning on hitting Jamie herself.

It was Rupert that stepped forward to deliver Jamie's punishment, something that seemed to amuse Jamie. Aoife watched tensely as Rupert delivered his first blow, striking Jamie in the stomach and causing him to double over. The first blow turned to two, and then three. With each blow Aoife had to resist shouting about how ridiculous this all was.

"How long must this go on for?" Claire asked.

"Only until blood's drawn," Geillis explained. "Usually when their nose is broken."

For his fourth blow, Rupert aimed upwards at Jamie's face and he doubled over for a second before he spat blood out onto the stone floor.

"This is barbarous," Claire said.

"You can say that again," Aoife agreed.

Rupert circled around Jamie, looking up at Dougal where he stood next to Colum. He didn't tell Rupert that was enough. Aoife had half a mind to march up there and punch Dougal in the stomach and the nose in front of everyone and see how he liked it. Rupert came around to the front of Jamie again and this time, he delivered his blow to Jamie's injured shoulder.

The only comfort that Aoife found in watching her friend reel back from that blow was that Rupert did look a little apologetic about what he was doing. He didn't necessarily want to be doing this, but he had orders.

Hoping that would be enough to satisfy Dougal, both Rupert and Jamie looked towards him. But he gave them nothing. Rupert turned to Jamie again and delivered his sixth blow, once again to his face, but this time hard enough to send Jamie falling to the ground. Claire grabbed Aoife's wrist almost on instinct in her shock at what she had just watched. As she made to go to Jamie, Aoife following behind, Geillis pulled them back.

"Stay here," she instructed them.

Jamie started to push himself up but was clearly struggling, dazed from the blow— no, from the repeated blows. The arm he was using to try and push himself up — the other injured one cradled to his chest — it was unsteady and he only managed a partial sitting position. As Jamie looked to Dougal once more, he still seemed unsatisfied. Jamie started to try and stand up when Murtagh pushed his way forward and offered a hand out to Jamie.

Once on his feet, Jamie walked past where Rupert was standing until he was before Colum and Dougal. Keeping his eyes on Colum, Jamie dipped into a bow. As he straightened, he shared a long and tense look with Dougal. Finally, he turned away and stumbled towards where Murtagh was waiting, not fighting the arm that the older man wrapped around him to help him out of the room while everyone watched.

Claire immediately went to follow after him but Geillis stopped her, pointing to another doorway out of the room.

"This way is quicker and you'll stir less gossip," she advised.

They found Murtagh, Jamie and Ciaran, who must have followed, in the kitchen. They came in just as they were easing Jamie's coat off.

"Just how fucking dumb are you?" Aoife questioned him.

"Effie—"

"Because that was fucking dumb, Jamie, knowing how your uncle feels about you!" she accused.

"I'm fine," Jamie insisted.

"I rather doubt that," Claire agreed.

"You're already injured and you just think, 'oh, I know how best to get better, let me hurt myself more, that's clearly the solution here'?" she questioned him, dipping into a bad impersonation of him. "How can someone be that stupid?"

"Okay, I think that's enough for now," Ciaran said, putting an arm around Aoife's shoulders. "I think we'll just wait outside."

"No, no no no," Aoife argued as Ciaran started steering her out of the room. "I'm not finished yet—"

"Yes, I think ye are," Ciaran said.

Though she tried to protest and fight against Ciaran, he was still stronger than her and something in her mind stopped her from fighting too hard, not wanting to cause him to have a fit or push himself too far. Then they were in the halls again and Ciaran still didn't stop until they were out in the cool night air.

Aoife turned her attention up to the stars, watching them shine. Even now, all this time later, Aoife couldn't help but be distracted by how bright they were. She would miss that when she finally got home and was stuck once again in a world where light pollution had dimmed the light of the stars.

She looked back at Ciaran. "You know, Geillis said something kinda funny... she mentioned that you had been engaged before."

"Oh," Ciaran said, looking down.

"Why did you never tell me? Why didn't anyone ever mention it?" she asked.

"I... I dinnae really like thinking about it," he admitted. "I dinnae really like thinking about anything that has to do with how people treat me because of my breathing. It's just better to think about the people that don't care."

"Ciaran, I— I'm really sorry that she was so close-minded she didn't want to get to know you. I'm sure she would have loved you if she had," Aoife told him.

He smiled at her. "It's not all bad. If I had gotten married then, I wouldnae have gone with Jamie and ended up in that forest where I met you."

"Fate sure does pull her strings," Aoife said, looking away from him but was still smiling. "I am truly grateful for the opportunity to have gotten to know you."

"As am I," Ciaran said. He stepped around so he was standing in front of her now. "Aoife, I—"

"There's something I should tell you," she said, cutting off whatever he was about to say. "Its something I really should have told you by now but I just... couldn't figure out how."

"What is it?"

"Tomorrow, when Mr Petrie comes, well, Claire and I are going with him. He's going to take us to Inverness and we're going to find our way home together," she explained. "She's going to help me find my family and then we'll help her get to hers in France."

"I'll come with you," he immediately offered.

"Ciaran, you can't. Your family is here, your place is here. You've all been wonderful and amazing and I couldn't be more thankful but... this is something I have to do on my own now," she told him.

She couldn't begin to properly explain the look on his face. Her heart clenched at the sadness in his eyes and she immediately gripped the hem of her shawl, fiddling anxiously with it as she was so prone to doing. There was something else there in his eyes that she couldn't — or perhaps didn't want to — identify that nearly broke her heart.

"I need you to make sure Jamie doesnae get himself killed for me, okay?" she asked, stepping closer to him. "And you have to take care of yourself too, okay? No pushing yourself."

"Yeah, I... I promise," he told her, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I guess this is goodbye."

"Goodbye, Ciaran."

She gave him a small, sad smile and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. He'd gone completely slack-jawed when she pulled back, a look of surprise overtaking the sadness in his eyes. She looked down and then turned away, hurrying inside before anything, or anyone, could stop her. She would need a good night's rest if she was going to find her way home tomorrow.

✷ ✩ ✷ ✩ ✷

The next morning, Claire and Aoife met in the kitchens where Mrs Fitz was preparing a basket for them for their travels. The two women shared a sense of relief at the idea that they were truly on their way to getting home. When they finally got word that Mr Petrie had arrived, they made their way out into the courtyard where his cart was waiting.

"The bannocks should last a day or two and the cheese will keep for a week," Mrs Fitz told them as she followed behind.

"You've been too kind, Mrs Fitzgibbons," Claire said as she took the basket. "I can't thank you enough."

"Think nothing o' it, lass," she said before turning to Aoife. "I never thought I'd miss having someone in my kitchen."

"I'll miss you, too, Mrs Fitz."

As they reached the cart, Claire set the basket down on the edge and turned back to Mrs Fitz. The older woman put a hand to both Claire and Aoife's cheeks, giving them both a kind smile.

"Safe journey to ye," she told them.

She pulled first Claire and then Aoife into a warm hug that Aoife was almost reluctant to pull back from. Mrs Fitz had been so kind to her in her time at Leoch. When she pulled back, she noticed her gaze on someone behind them and they both turned to see Dougal approaching them. Aoife's brow furrowed. Despite their time travelling together, she'd never been overly fond of the man and had gotten the impression he felt the same. The idea that he had come to say goodbye to her didn't make sense.

"Colum wishes to see ye," he said to Claire.

"Why?" Claire asked.

"It doesnae matter why," Dougal told her.

"All right," Claire said, looking at Aoife. "I'll be right back."

"I'll be here."

As nervous as she was watching Claire walk away with Dougal, it at least eased some of her confusion. If he was there to take Claire to see Colum, it made more sense than him being there to say goodbye to her. That hadn't made any sense at all. Claire disappeared back into the castle and Aoife remained there, pacing, picking at her shawl and waiting for Claire to come back.

She didn't know how long she waited. Too long. She could see that Mr Petrie was getting annoyed about having to wait longer and longer but Aoife wasn't going to let him leave without Claire. Finally, after what felt like ages, Dougal reappeared from the door he'd gone into the castle from and Aoife perked up, waiting for Claire to come out behind him, annoyed at the detour on her way home.

But Claire didn't come.

Dougal walked down the stairs and towards Mr Petrie with no sign of Claire coming after him. Aoife immediately walked up to Dougal so that she could figure out what the hell was going on.

"Where's Claire?" she asked.

"She's not coming."

"Why?"

"That's none of your concern, Miss Macbeth. If you wish to be on ye way to Inverness, I suggest ye go now."

"Why isn't Claire coming?" she asked again.

"I said that's none of your concern."

"Where is Claire? What did you do to her?" Aoife accused.

"Mistress Beauchamp isn't going anywhere. Colum demands she remains as his guest so here she remains," Dougal told her.

"I'm not going to ask you again. Where is she?"

"In the surgery," Dougal said. "Careful with that tone of yours, Miss Macbeth."

"Why don't you be careful with yours?" she spat, grabbing the basket off the cart and storming away from him.

She had never been down to the surgery thankfully enough, but she knew her way down there and was quick to hurry through the now familiar halls of Leoch until she found the door. It was closed, though that wasn't totally unexpected but still an annoyance. Aoife pushed open the door and hurried down the stairs until she saw Claire standing in the middle of the room.

When Claire heard her coming down, she turned and Aoife immediately saw that there were tears in her eyes. Without thinking about it, Aoife ran forward and wrapped Claire in a hug, resting her head against her shoulder. Claire hesitated for only a moment before she hugged her back, resting her head against Aoife's.

After a few moments, Claire pulled back and so did Aoife. Claire wiped her eyes and so Aoife reached into the basket and grabbed a bannock, offering it to her.

"Dougal said that Colum was making you stay," Aoife said.

"He doesn't trust me," Claire explained. "So he's not letting me leave until he's sure I don't have any secrets."

"But that's not fair. How are you supposed to get home?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "But Aoife, you don't have to stay just because I have to. I wouldn't want to be the thing in the way of you getting home."

"No. We are in this together. We do this together or not at all."

"That's very kind of you, but really—"

"Together," she repeated insistently. "Or not at all."

Claire's expression softened. "Thank you."

"So why did Colum want to meet you down here of all places, anyway? Why not up in his study or whatever?" Aoife asked.

"He wants me to be the new healer," Claire explained. "He heard I had skill at it."

"Well, that's not the worst thing in the world," Aoife said, trying to lighten the mood. "At least he's letting you do something you like instead of just putting you in a cell."

"This room might as well be," Claire said, looking around at the dark and dungy room they stood in.

Aoife looked around as well, admitting to herself that it was pretty depressing. There had to be something she could do to make the room a bit brighter. Lighting the fireplace and some candles would help, of course, but there had to be something else. An idea came to mind and she turned to Claire, fighting down a smile.

"What if... how would you feel about having an apprentice?" she asked.

"An apprentice?" Claire questioned her.

"Yeah. I always wanted to be a doctor, a healer, just like my mom. That's why I went to medical school. And obviously, that didnae work out but... maybe this is my chance. You could teach me," she explained.

Claire smiled. "I would be honoured."

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an. and here's the first episode included in the fic! Honestly with this chapter now, I really don't know which one is my favourite. At least of the ones that are published, that is. I mean what I didn't say anything. Hope you enjoyed the chapter!