Every Story Needs a Beginning

by Feral-Sassenach-Energy (Nik0089), Nik0089

Summary:

One-shot, one-chapter, individual stories, inspired by AI generated pictures. If we love any of these storylines, they may become full stories later on but writing one shots helps me when I have writers block on any of my main stories.

All stories will be Jamie & Claire inspired by different AI generated pictures. The good, the bad and the ugly ideas that my brain comes up with. :) let me know in the comments which storylines y'all love or hate. Please be nice though, to me and other commenters. Also keep in mind, I do not have any more chapters for these stories prepared. So, they are a bit of a tease, I suppose. 🙈🙈

Nik :)

Chapter 1: Mimosas on the Beach

Chapter by Nik0089

Summary:

Claire Randall is a 30-year-old, pediatrician, divorcee.
James Fraser is a 30-year-old, business owner, divorcee and father.

The pair meet in a hotel lobby in Hawaii after reluctantly agreeing to a vacation with their respective friends.

 

 

 

Sitting at her desk, looking around at all the patient files and paperwork she needed to complete, Dr. Randall sighed in defeat. The past year had taken so much from her. She felt hopeless, overwhelmed and lonely. She was a very successful 30-year-old woman, with a shared practice in North Carolina. After her uncle died of cancer when she was 18, she decided to become a pediatrician and had poured herself into her education. She busted her ass through medical school and her foundational years to become one of the youngest doctors in the UK. After completing her studies in England, she and her two best friends left the UK and moved to a small town in North Carolina where they opened their pediatric practice. Claire and Louise were a great team, and all their patients loved them dearly. Geillis who had no interest in becoming a doctor was one of the best pediatric nurses they could have asked for. The trio truly enjoyed working together and they were good at it.  

 

“Claire Elizabeth, if ye dinnae get your suitcase packed and come wit’ me to Hawaii,

I swear I'll box yer ears right here, patients or no!” Geillis, the fiery red headed Scot

stood with her hands on her hips and furrowed brows. “I mean it Claire. I’ll do it!” 

The doctor exhaled forcefully, her best friend had been

begging her for months to go on this trip with her,

insisting that it was exactly what she needed after the divorce.

The problem was that Claire had poured herself into her practice since

Frank left but she was beginning to see Gelly’s point. “FINE!” 

“Fine?” Geillis was shocked. 

“I said fine! I’ll go but I swear Gelly this better be worth it.” Claire had her doubts,

she had been fighting to find herself again after that bastard walked out on her,

with no success so far. What did she have to lose really? Whatever she was doing

here wasn't working. “When do we leave?” 

Geillis started squealing, jumping up and down in her excitement like a small child,

“Claire Beauchamp is going to fucking Hawaii wit' me!!!

LOOK OUT HAWAII, the sassenach and the Scot are coming fer ye!!” 

 

The fact that Geillis had called her "Claire Beauchamp" was not lost on her. 

Claire and Geillis had met while she and Louise were in med school. The three of them became best friends almost instantly. They loved going out together and spent so many nights on the town in England. Anytime the two of them were together it was bound to be a good time. When Claire and Frank got married, the friends drifted apart. A year after they were married Frank had changed, he became possessive and demanding of her time and attention. Between the marriage and the demands of opening her practice with Louise, Claire was swamped. She rarely saw her friends outside of work and didn’t go out at all. She lost herself when she became Mrs. Randall, only to have Frank spit in her face and leave her for another woman, only 4 years after they were married. If she were honest with herself, she only married Frank because she was lonely. She had no one outside of her friends. Her parents were dead, her uncle was dead, she was utterly alone. She was fine with it for a time but then it became too much. She met Frank in North Carolina, and he was ‘amazing’, or so she thought. He wined and dined her. He wooed her with pretty little lies but he couldn’t keep up the act. After that first-year things between them started to decline, until one evening she found him with another woman. If this wasn’t bad enough, she had just had a miscarriage and was fighting to keep herself sane. This was the last straw. Within a matter of months, she had lost her baby and her husband. A husband who had taken her away from the only friends she had. Now that the divorce was final, she, Louise and Geillis were working to patch their friendship. They could use some time away she decided.  

 

“Lou, how would you feel about closing the office temporarily for four weeks?” 

“Four weeks? Whatever for?” 

“Gelly wants to take me with her to Hawaii, and I would love it if you could

come with us. We need a good girl's trip, and I need the time away.” 

“We have been working hard since we moved to NC,

and Frank really drug you through the mud with the divorce.”

she thought out loud “Let’s do it! I have a few patients I would need

to see beforehand; can we leave in two weeks?” 

“That would be perfect, I need to do the same. Would you want to stay in

Hawaii for the entire month? Or just the two weeks Gellis had initially asked for?” 

“Hell! If we’re doing this, we may as well do it right.

A month in Hawaii sounds delicious, mon cheri.” 

“You’re right, GO BIG or GO HOME, right?” 

 

---

 

Across the map, James Fraser sat in his own office, pondering his life choices. He was a 30-year-old man, freshly divorced and overworked. He had become CEO of his family's whisky business after his parents passed away and divorced his wife 2 years later. Running the business was a lot of work, he would be the first to admit that. He hadn't been home enough to love a wife properly; she was unhappy and decided to find her own happiness in an older man who had his life settled. He also had tons of money, which surely was a factor in Laoghaire deciding to divorce him. She was sick of having to struggle while he got his feet on the ground. Losing his parents was hard enough, inheriting a business was just icing on the cake. Laoghaire had already made up her mind and wasn't an active role in anything related to the company. She stayed angry with Jamie and hated everything about him. They had gotten married young; he was only 21 at the time. Laoghaire had gotten pregnant and the two of them chose marriage for the sake of the bairn. His daughter Marsli was almost nine now and lived with her mother full time. Much to his dismay Laoghaire had fought him tooth and nail for her new husband to adopt their daughter. She took him to court and tried everything you could imagine to have Jamie’s rights taken away to no avail. Still Laoghaire refused to stick to a visitation schedule, and he rarely get to see Marsli. This is an ongoing battle, court date after court date and nothing has changed. It doesn't help matters that her new husband is loaded. He throws money at the lawyers and delays things to keep Jamie from getting anything handled legally. He missed his daughter, he missed his parents, and he was miserable. The phone on his desk rang and he sighed in contempt. 

 

“Fraser’s Ridge, James Fraser speaking.” 

“Jamie!” A chipper Englishman's voice answered in reply.  

“John.” he responded flatly.  

“Cheer up ole’ chap!! We leave in two weeks.

Then it will be all sunshine and mimosas for a month.” 

 

Jamie had agreed hastily to go to Hawaii with his best friend after another night of depressed drinking, missing his daughter and the family he had always wanted. It wasn't Laoghaire that he missed, they were in a constant state of misery when they were together, it was the idea of a ‘family unit’. He was drunk and feeling hopeless when he accepted John’s invitation. One that he now regretted wholeheartedly.  

 

He groaned loudly in distaste, “only two weeks, is it?” 

“Yes mate. Two weeks. Fourteen days. Then we are off to the sunny beaches of Hawaii.” 

“I dinnae realize it was here already.” 

“Don’t you dare think about it James Fraser, you cannot back out on me!” 

Jamie cursed under his breath but surrendered nonetheless,

“I ken John, I willna do ye like that. Hawaii ‘tis then.” 

 

---

 

 “Aloha! Welcome to Hawaii” called the dark-haired man behind the check in desk, in a Hawaiian print shirt that was covered with brightly colored flowers. The three women walked in giggling like loons, a few drinks on the plane were a well-deserved treat for the overworked trio.  

“Aloha!” they exclaimed in perfect unison, eliciting more laughter.

“We are here for our reservation.” Louise explained as clearly as possible,

being the least drunk of the group. “The reservation is under ‘Duncan’” 

“Ah, yes” the man said, typing away on his keyboard. 

 

Behind them John and Jamie walked in casually, looking around the lobby as they waited.

“What now?” Jamie grumbled mostly under his breath, as he looked curiously at the

three very intoxicated women in line in front of them. 

“Now, we check in, relax and hit the pool with mimosas in hand.” John said happily,

feeling proud of himself for getting his friend out of the personal hell that was threatening

to drown him. 

“Aye.” Jamie started to respond.

when one of the women in line before them shouted,

“OOOHHH G, another Scot and a Sassenach.” and the woman at the check in desk added,

“Mimosas sound wonderful. Let's drop off our bags and head to the poolside bar.” 

John’s eyebrows rose in interest, and he glanced at Jamie,

“So, who's the sassenach in your party then? The Scot is clear enough.” 

Louise responded, “pas moi je suis francais” 

“Ah, a Frenchwoman. Bonjour Mademoiselle.” Jamie added in perfect French.  

“Right then, I suppose that leaves me.” Claire said primly.  

“Ah! A Sassenach, a Frenchwoman and a Scotswoman. Very diverse bunch.” John responded in proper English. 

 

Jamie grinned at the three intoxicated women in front of him, but his breath hitched when he caught sight of the Englishwoman's bonny brown eyes, the color of Scottish whisky. She met his gaze and held it for only a moment before glancing away. It didn't go unnoticed by him when she looked back soon after. 

 

“Weel lads, ‘twas verra nice to meet ye, ken. But the lassies and I need a drink.”

Geillis said as she rejoined the group, keycard in hand. 

“I think we’ve had a drink already this morning, mon cherie”

Louise giggled and then promptly hiccupped.  

“I suppose we have, but we haven't had a mimosa

in the sunshine by the pool.” Claire stated dreamily.  

“Aye a charaid! 

Claire pursed her lips in thought, “How very rude of us, I’m Claire”

she said with an outstretched hand, “This is Louise and Geillis.”

 gesturing toward each of the other women. 

Jamie took her hand in his, “Jamie.” 

John cleared his throat and glared at his friend, “John.” 

 “Nice to meet you blokes, maybe we will see you around” 

“Count on it.” Jamie added hastily, causing John to peer at him suspiciously.

 

---

 

Mimosas by the poolside bar were exactly what the doctor ordered, if said doctor, was Claire or Louise. The three women bask in the sun and overindulged in alcoholic beverages. The three chose different forms of relaxation, Geillis with her headphones, listening to music, Louise with her air pods, listening to a pod cast and Claire with a romance novel in hand. 

 

“Another drink for you ladies?” John asked as he approached the group. 

Claire being the only one without her hearing hindered, responded first,

“No thank you, if I have another, I won't be able to read anymore.

The lines are already blurring together.”  Her friends caught on and removed their headphone,

John repeated his question, got their order and walked over to the poolside bar.

“I ken that feeling verra weel. ‘tis verra hard to focus on the wee words when

your vision is normal, aye? Much less when yer knackered.”  Jamie answered, 

pulling up a chair over beside of Claire and her friends.

“Oh, absolutely. Which is why I only reward myself with wine AFTER I look over patient files.” 

“Patient files? Yer a doctor then?” Jamie asked. 

“Yes sir! Louise and I are pediatricians.” She explained gesturing toward the Frenchie,

“Geillis is a pediatric nurse, the three of us work together back home.” 

“Ah verra bonny, where is home if ye dinnae mind me askin’?” 

“Oh...um, North Carolina and you?” 

“Scotland.” 

“Scotland is beautiful, we went to med school in the UK,

England to be exact. I haven't been back since we graduated.” 

“Ah, ye should visit again someday.” 

“Maybe I should. I always wanted to go on a tour of the highlands.” 

“Aye, weel I can be yer personal tour guide, mi lady.” 

“That would be wonderful, I’ll hold you to it then.” 

 

The conversation amongst the group continued into the evening. They had sunbathed and cooled off in the pool, all while drinking way too much alcohol. Everyone noticed the connection between The Scot and The Sassenach, discreetly pushing them together several times throughout the day. John had happily taken Claire's lounge chair and insisted she and Jamie go for a dip in the pool. With the excuse of 'Jamie being very burnt', the women with all of their medical training knew fine well that the pool wouldn't help Jamie's sunburn, but Claire didn't resist. She even offered to apply mire sunscreen for him before they got into the water. "I'll do yours, if you do mine Jamie," He had happily obliged. In the pool their conversation continued with interjections from their friends.

 

"I told you what I do for a living, what about yourself?" 

Claire asked, intrigued by the handsome Scotsman floating

beside of her. 

"I am the CEO and owner of my family's whisky business,

'Fraser's Ridge'. It's Scotland based, of course. Inverness

to be more exact. My sister and her husband are helping me

find my barrens. I took over a few years back."

"How amazing." Claire said dreamy-eyed. "I love whisky, especially

Scottish whisky. Geillis has brought 'Fraser's Ridge' whisky home on 

quite a few occasions, it's delicious. Any plans to expand to the states?"

"Oh aye, I've been workin' wit' a few business associates in the

states, I hope to have it in the states within the year."

"I'll be your first customer! Just tell me when" she said with a smile. 

A smile that Jamie had gotten lost in several times throughout the day.

"Give me yer address and I'll send ye some of yer own Sassenach."

 

Notes:

The AI generated image for this chapter was not my own creation, :) special thanks to PINTEREST!!

Chapter 2: Torn Between Two Scots-A lady's tale

Chapter by Nik0089

Summary:

When Claire meets William Fraser in college 'before' meeting his younger brother Jamie.

Notes:

This one will be a LOVE/HATE with y'all, I already know. 🤪🤣

 

Meeting Scotsman in England wasn't unusual. Falling in love with two Scots in the same clan was unbelievable. It goes without saying that Claire never meant for it to happen like that. 

Her freshman year of college was terrifying, in every aspect. Her Uncle Lamb had passed away unexpectantly three months before her first day at the University of Oxford, none of her friends were attending the same university as her and she was ‘all in’, she had used every bit of her inheritance to ensure that she would become a doctor. It had been her lifelong dream. She had a passion for healing people. Yet when she envisioned her journey to become a doctor it had always included Uncle lamb by her side, ‘holidays’ at his flat and nightly dinners after a long day at the university, where he was a professor and Claire was to be a student. Her reality was something completely unknown to her, she was alone in this world. No family, no close friends, no connections. She was utterly alone.  

Which is why William had come as a welcome surprise. They met on their first day at the university, Willie was a med student from Scotland, who had no friends or family close to the university. His family, which was actually quite large, were all in Scotland, living on their family’s estate, ‘Lallybroch’, located in the small village of Broch Mordha. William was a true gentleman. After walking into class and seeing Claire sitting alone in the far back row he walked over and introduced himself.  

 

Gesturing toward the empty seat beside of Claire, “is this seat taken a nighean?” 

Her face scrunched in confusion, and she asked for clarification, “knee-un?” 

Willie chuckled warmly at her horrible attempt at pronouncing the Scottish Gaelic term,

her proper English murdered the word completely. “A nighean” he pronounced properly again,

“Is Scottish Gaelic for ‘lass’, ‘girl’, ‘young woman’, a term of endearment, if ye will.” 

She motioned for him to take the available seat, “a proper Scotsman, are you then?” 

“Aye!” he grinned, slightly lopsided she noticed. “William Fraser” he held out his hand in introduction

and said his name with such pride. He intrigued her, he was interesting and handsome. God was he handsome. 

“Claire” she said confidently, “Claire Beauchamp.”

she took his hand in hers and held on a few beats longer than socially acceptable. 

“Weel Hullo to ye, Ms. Beauchamp. ‘Tis verra nice to meet ye lass.” 

Claire had been distracted by his beautiful smile when she realized

with a pang of embarrassment that she was still gripping his hand in hers.

She released it with a breath and met his gaze. She laughed to cover her embarrassment,

“the pleasure is mine William.” 

 

 

The professor walked in and got straight to business, the lecture started only seconds later. Claire and Willie were lost in their shared task of notetaking but stole glances throughout the hour-long class. When it ended, Claire stood to her feet to pack up her things. Willie had followed suit.

 

“Where are ye headed after this lass?” 

A thread of doubt had shown plainly on her face at his question,

and he watched intently as she decided he wasn't a threat and

answered him honestly, “I don't have another class for a few hours,

I was going to go back to my dorm and wait until then. Truthfully,

I’m not a very fun ‘lass’, William Fraser“ 

“Turns out ‘boring’ lassies are my thing, aye?” He said playfully.

Claire admired his crystal-clear blue eyes, that were twinkling with interest. 

“Boring, is it? Claire Beauchamp is anything but boring,”

She said with a wink, “She just doesn't go out and do ‘fun things’ in

her free time. I prefer to make my own fun, from the safety of my own home.” 

“Lucky fer ye lass, I'm verra good at keepin’ wee lassies, like yerself safe.

Would ye be willin’ to humor a lad and let me take ye fer a coffee?” 

She considered his offer for a second before deciding,

it was worth a shot. “Only if you promise to guard my virtue with your life.” 

 

He held out his arm for her to take before assuring her, that he would be honored to accompany her to the coffee shop as her official ‘protector’. 

 

That was the beginning of the end for her. William was too chivalrous for his own good. He was respectful and attentive. As well as honest and transparent. He and Claire became friends quickly. They spent all their free time together, in his dorm or hers. They ate together and studied together, even relaxed together. They watched movies at her place or his, played board games on rainy Saturdays, and quizzed each other relentlessly on all the new medical terms they were learning in class.  

William was a wonderful cook as well. A skill he learned from his mother, Claire unfortunately was a terrible cook. He preferred to use this particular skill to Claire’s benefit as often as she would allow him. Which was often! She hated ‘ordering in’, the food was horribly unhealthy, so she typically ate very basic meals when on her own. She had since losing her last living family member. 

 

 

“Luaidh (darling)” Willie called across the hallway to grab Claire’s attention.

It always worked, there weren't many people in the university who spoke in

Gaelic, and she would recognize his Scottish Brogue anywhere. 

She spun on her heels and made her way over to

him with a cheesy smile lighting her face, “My darling!” 

“Sorcha” her name in Gaelic. “Tha thu boidheach (you are beautiful)” 

“Uilleam” his name in Gaelic, he had taught her that one in the beginning of their friendship,

whereas her name meant ‘light’, his meant ‘resolute protector’. It suited him perfectly. 

“I look a right mess.” she whined, having stayed up late the night before

studying for the exam they had later this afternoon, Claire was knackered.

She had thrown her brown curls up into a the messiest of messy

buns and threw on one of Willie’s sweatshirts. She hadn't even bothered

with her contacts that morning, her black framed glasses still adorned her face.  

“Ye would be beautiful nae matter what, Mo Luaidh (my darling)” 

“Flatterer.” she snorted before placing a chaste kiss on his cheek.  

“Ye cannae fault me fer bein’ an honest man lass.” 

She glared at him playfully, “I suppose not, it's one of my favorite qualities of yours.” 

 

 

“I ken ye dinnae have plans fer the holiday Sorcha, my parents

invited ye to join our family at Lallybroch next week, if ye will.” 

 

He had already been expecting her to protest and warned his mother that he wouldn't be coming home for the holidays if Claire didn't feel comfortable coming with him. He had explained that Claire didn't have any family of her own and he couldn't imagine leaving her here by herself, not after she had gotten used to seeing him multiple times a day.  

 

“Uh...”  she hesitated.

“If ye arena’ ready fer that, we can stay here and spend the holidays together.” 

She grimaced at the thought, “I couldn't have you stay here with me Will, your family

would be terribly disappointed if you didn't come home.” She considered her options,

going home with Willie didn't sound terrible. She didn't mind meeting his family,

as much as she missed her own, having people to spend the holidays

with would be nice. “Ok. I’ll go home with you, to Lallybroch.”

She smiled wholeheartedly at him, causing his heart to pound

against his chest. The excitement he felt at the idea of taking

her home to meet his parents was immeasurable. 

 

---

 

“Yer brother is bringing a lass home for Christmas.” Ellen blurted at the dinner table,

causing her family to look up from their plates and eye her with confusion. 

“My brother William?” Jenny asked, purely confused. 

“Weel ‘tis nae me, dafty.” Jamie teased. 

“Aye, but Ma must be talkin’ about another brother,

the one I ken doesna’ bring lassies home to meet ma.” 

Jamie snorted. “Did ye tell ‘im that Laoghaire was comin’?” 

“Aye.”  

Jenny cackled, “that eejit. What did he do, just run out and

grab an unsuspecting lass and beg ‘er to come home wit’ ‘im.” 

“He and the lassie have been friends since the first day of school" Brian said in his son's defense.

I ken the two of ye have heard the lad speak of Claire.” Brian added.  

“The Sassenach lassie?” Jamie looked scandalized.  

“James!” Ellen chided. She was terribly disappointed in her son’s disrespect.

“I ken fine weel I didna’ teach ye to be so disrespectful Jamie Ruadh” 

Jamie apologized and looked genuinely abashed. “I’ve seen the lass

on his social’s. I ken ye have as weel Janet.” He pulled out his phone

and showed her Willie’s most recent post.  

“Aye, she's a bonny lass, no?” Jenny asked no one in particular.  

“Aye, she is verra bonny, I’ll give the eejit that. I dinnae ken how he scored

such a lass as ‘Claire’” Jamie said aloud, the ‘r’s’ rolling off his Scottish tongue deliciously.  

 

---

 

The night before Claire and Willie were set to leave for Scotland, she had chosen to spend the night with him in his dorm. His roommate, Rupert was happy to cover for him, as Claire had loaned her dorm to him and his girlfriend Geillis, for the weekend. Claire was lying wide awake on his bed, staring at the ceiling above her. She was supposed to be asleep already but couldn't settle her mind.

 

“What is it mo luaidh (my darling)?” Willie whispered into the darkness.  

“What if your family hates me?” She blurted anxiously. 

“They willnae.” 

“How could you possibly know that?” 

“Claire, you are a nineteen-year-old lass, alone in the world,

with no family to keep ye accountable, yet yer thrivin’ in university,

ON YER OWN. You are a rare woman, Claire.” 

“Rare?” She snorted.  

Willie sat up, gesturing toward the bed, where she lay under his covers,

snug as a bug. While he, at her insistence lay atop the covers, wrapped

in his own tartan. “Yer a verra respectable lassie, mo leannan (my sweetheart)” 

A sheepish grin appeared on her face. “Your parents won’t see it like that.

They will simply see a lass in your bed and assume I’m a trollop.” 

He wrapped his big warm arms around her and pulled her close, “They willna’,

I swear it Claire. They will love ye. My wee brother has already told me, yer way

to bonny fer a cloitheid like maself.” 

She snorted with laughter again and surrendered to his reassurances.

“I’ll take your word for it lad, a man who doesn't know just how

handsome he truly is, way to good for the likes of me.” 

“Nae a lad I ken is worthy of ye Claire. Now let us get our ‘beauty sleep;

so, my brother doesna have any evidence of my ‘unworthiness’, aye?” 

 

Notes:

This one all but demands a second chapter. 😭😭

I will not start a new fic.
I will not start a new fic.
I will not start a new fic.
I will not start a new fic.
I will not start a new fic.

JESUS H ROOSEVELT CHRIST.

Chapter 3: Dr. Fraser

Chapter by Nik0089

Summary:

Where Dr. Randall meets Dr. Fraser :)

 

---

Claire Randall. 35. Chief of Surgery at John Radcliffe Hospital. Married (unhappily). Originally from Oxfordshire. Mom to two indulgent cats (Scalpel and Wellington-Welly, if you ask Claire). Fiercely Bold, cheeky, canny, unashamedly career-driven, independent, intelligent and sometimes what you might consider rude (if you get in the way of her work).

 

James Fraser. 33. Top tier pediatric surgeon (newly hired at Radcliffe, thanks to Jenny). Married (woefully unhappy). Uncle to two, (Wee Jamie & Maggie) habitually cocky, Intelligent (but don't tell him), head-strong, ambitious, career-minded, daft in an endearing way, and her younger brother. 

 

At least that's the way Jenny Murry, head nurse on the 4th floor would tell it, if you ask about Dr. Randall or Dr. Fraser. The two surgeons currently going nose to nose about a pediatrics case. Jenny sat in her rollie, with her arms folded and a smirk on her lips. Jenny knew a bet on who would win this argument would be pointless, because in her detailed list of character traits for the pair, the one she forgot to add on both was STUBBORN. ‘Stubborn as a bloody mule, they both were’, She thought to herself, watching them trade clinical barbs over a pediatric case 

 

“My bets are on Randall.” Geillis whispered, perched on the far side of the nurses’ station. 

 

Jenny scoffed, “Ye would say that Duncan, ye dinnae ken my brother just yet. He willna back down.” 

 

“One time, I saw Dr. Randall make the new cardiologist cry,” Mary added meekly.  

 

“Pipe down Mcnab” came a gruff voice from around the corner, Mary flushed bright red as Dr. Grey walked into view.  

“Dr. Randall, didn't make me cry.” he protested, “I have very bad allergies if you must know.”  

The nurse stifled a laugh in the collar of her scrub top.  

 

Geillis snorted, “Ye cried at lunch just yesterday, Grey!” 

 

“If you spent half as much time reading the chart as you do puffing your chest Fraser, we’d be done.” Claire countered. 

 

John stopped in his tracks, his eyes meet Gellis’s, in silent question. She shrugged and looked toward the two, who were now standing within inches of one another. Before turning back and glaring at John, “Try me, Grey!” she warned, “I’ll tell the whole 4th floor” 

 

John groaned, “You’ll tell the whole damn hospital.” 

 

“Duncan!” Claire’s stern, already angry English voice reprimanded from across the hall, “Do we need to have this talk again this week Geillis? You cannot disrespect your superiors, even if your superior is John Grey, world renowned cardiologist and crybaby.” 

 

Jamie chuckled despite himself.  “I read the chart. Twice. And the footnotes. I’m no’ a rookie.” Dr Fraser continued, slightly calmer after the interruption. The nurses collectively held their breath as they waited for Dr. Randall’s reply. “Yer so used to bein’ right, ye’ve forgotten how to listen.” 

 

“You’re impossible.” Claire scowled, arms crossed tightly. 

 

“And yer insufferable.” Jamie fired back ferociously.  

 

Claire snickered to herself, she secretly enjoyed getting under Jamie’s skin, more than she would like to admit. She turned to walk away, hips swaying with the motion, as her heels clicked on the tiles. “I’ll be in my office, if you would like to discuss this further Dr. Fraser.” 

 

“I CANNOT BELIEVE, you agreed with Geillis and called me a crybaby!” John whined as he rushed off after her.  

 

Geillis erupted in laughter. Jenny stood to her feet looking around for her brother. Her rollie chair crashing into the shelf behind her. “Where did Dr. Fraser go Mary?” she asked absently as she continued scanning the room.  

 

“Probably crying in the little laddie’s room, like Johnny boy was yesterday.” Geillis teased, green eyes shining with mischief.  

 

“He went into the supply closet.” Mary answered timidly.  

 

“Jesus, Mary and Joesph” Jenny rushed off in the direction of said supply closet muttering “They say the drama is in the ER.” under her breath. Geillis continued cackling like a loon. Jenny knocks lightly, “Ye done sulking Brathair? Or should I send in one of Claire’s therapy cats? I hear Scalpel is verra gifted.” 

 

From inside comes a muffled voice, “send whisky, aye?”  Then to himself, “of course, Dr. Randall would name her cat scalpel.” 

Then muttering to himself, “Bloody brilliant Fraser, come to Radcliffe, they said. Work with the best they said. Shouldha’ asked if the ‘best’ came wit’ claws and a sharp tongue.” The light overhead flickers like its mocking him, he rips his ID tag over his head and tosses it across the room. He rubs his face and stares at the ceiling. 

 

Another knock. 

 

“Ye done throwin’ a fit or should I call in a code brown?” 

 

Jamie chuckles, despite himself. “Ye ken yer no’ as funny as ye think ye are Janet.” 

 

“She’s no’ wrong Jamie, But she’s no’ always right either. Ye’ve got the instincts brathair, ye just need to learn when to fight and when to finesse.” 

 

Jamie sighs, “She makes it bloody impossible,” 

 

“That’s Chief Randall fer ye, She’s a hurricane in heels.” 

 

Jamie stands, dusts off his scrubs and opens the door. Jenny is leaning against the wall, arms folded, and eyebrow raised. “I’m no’ done fightin’”  

 

“Good, just remember who yer fightin’ fer, aye?” 

 

Jamie nods, jaw set. He walks toward Chief Randall’s office.  

 

Jenny mumbles under her breath, “stubborn as a mule, both of ye. Christ preserve the hospital.” 

---

Claire had walked away from the confrontation with Jamie like she owned every tile on the floor. Dr. Grey, followed eagerly on her heels. “Dr. Randall—Claire—are we still going ahead with the echo? I just need to confirm the imaging schedule--  

 

Claire didn’t bother to turn. Her voice sliced through the corridor, crisp and lethal: “Yes. And if Radiology’s late again, tell them I’ll be down there with a scalpel and a diagram of the human spine.” 

“Right, of course.” came John's crisp and proper reply, “and about the consult with Dr. Fraser?” 

She stopped abruptly, causing John to nearly crash into her.  

“There is no consult, there is a chief of surgery, THAT’S ME. And there is a pediatric surgeon currently sulking in a supply closet. That’s not my problem.” 

Bravely he replied, “but he had a point....” 

“He had a theory, I have a PATIENT, and I don't gamble with six-year-olds lives, to soothe his ego.” 

Dr. Grey nods, swallowing down the protest threatening to escape. Claire softens, just a little. Enough to be human, but not enough to be approachable. 

“Look Grey. You’ll learn this fast around here, you don't win by being loud. You win by being right. And you stay right by knowing when to walk away....” 

She resumes walking in the direction of her office, slower now.

 

Behind her Dr. Grey watches one eyebrow raised, murmuring to himself. “The storm has passed but it still smells like lightning.” 

---

Claire collapses into her desk chair with an exaggerated sigh, fighting with Dr. Fraser, thrilling as it might be, was exhausting. The pediatric surgeon had been at Radcliffe for a month and in that time he and Claire had clashed multiple times. She was deep in thought when the sound of heavy footsteps rushing down the hall broke her trance. Her office door flew open without ceremony, or even a simple knock. Jamie stood in the doorway, frantic, chest heaving, eyes wide.  

 

“Claire.” 

 

She hadn't looked up. “If you're here to rehash the theory Fraser, save it. I have patients waiting and a schedule.” 

 

“The patient is crashing” he said breathlessly, still catching his breath from the rush.  

 

That stopped her. She met his gaze then, frantic and urgent. “Excuse me?” 

 

“O2 dropped. BP tanked. Echo showed a tear we dinnae see, ‘tis happening now.” 

 

Her face shifts from anger to calculation, “prep the OR, page anesthesiology. Get Dr. Grey to pull the latest labs, SCRUB IN FRASER.” 

 

Jamie blinks.  “Scrub in?” 

 

“You wanted a chance. You’ve got it. But if you so much as breathe wrong in that OR, I’ll reassign you to bedpan duty in geriatrics.” 

 

Jamie nods, already moving. “Understood” 

 

Drawn together by necessity, they move with urgency. Claire barks orders down the hall. Jamie matches her pace, adrenaline surging, argument forgotten. 

 

From the nurses' station Jenny watches, thinking to herself. “Look at that, the hurricane and the thunderstorm found a common enemy.” 

---

Patient prepped. Monitors blaring warnings, a scrub nurse calls out vitals—dropping fast. Claire bursts in with Jamie on her trail, they are gloved with the efficiency of a well-oiled machine. Their eyes lock on the screen.  

 

“BP is bottoming out. We’ve only got minutes Fraser!” 

 

“’tis worse than we thought, we need to open NOW!” 

 

In the zone, in her position, Claire holds out an empty gloved hand, “Scalpel” 

 

A nurse places in into her waiting hand. She doesn't hesitate; she makes the first cut. Clean, confident, trained. Jamie beside her, suction ready, hands steady, eyes locked on her every move. They move in sync now, no words needed. With the organ exposed Claire’s brow furrows.  

 

“There!” she smiled. “There’s the tear, you were right.” 

 

Jamie looks at her, perplexed. “Say that again?” 

 

“Don't push it Fraser.” 

 

The room falls silent.  

 

“Claire?”  She looks up. The monitors are normal again. “We saved him.” 

 

A breath escapes her lips, Jamie leans back, sweat on his brow, relief in his eyes. They walk out of the OR, smiles frozen on their lips.  

 

Jenny chuckles, “Well, I’ll be damned. They dinnae kill each other, they saved the kid instead.” 

---

In the locker room, Claire sits on the cold wooden bench. Eyes distant, hands still slightly trembling.  Jamie walks in slowly, his expression unreadable. He opens his locker and pulls out a towel and a fresh scrub top. Claire never looked up but she speaks, her voice low and shaky.  

 

“I should have listened to you.” 

 

“Aye weel, ye were a stubborn ass.” he chuckled, just barely.  

 

“So were you, so I'll let that comment slide.” she added with a direct stare. “I am sorry.” 

 

He nods, sits beside her with the towel over his shoulder. “I’m sorry fer yellin’ at ye as weel, I couldha’ handled it better.” 

 

“We both could have.” she smirks but its weak. 

 

Silence stretches between them, not the charged kind, something different, almost comfortable.  

 

“Guess that's why Frank says I don't communicate.” 

 

A small sound of agreement escapes his throat. “Anna says the same.” 

 

“Hmph. Just another thing we have in common Fraser.” She stands to her feet, readying to leave. “We can't communicate and our marriages suck.” 

 

He laughs under his breath. “I’m no so sure I can control the latter.” 

 

Her eyes land on him again, “I suppose we can’t” 

 

“Fer what it’s worth ye were brilliant today.” He smiles, a genuine thing, the kind that lights your whole face.  

 

“So were you.” She grabs her coat and heads toward the door, then over her shoulder she adds, “Next time you storm into a supply closet, try not to knock over the saline. Geillis nearly slipped and sued the hospital.” A small smile danced on her lips.  

 

Jamie smirked. “Noted.” 

 

---

 

Chapter 4: Dig Site Diaries

Chapter by Feral-Sassenach-Energy (Nik0089)

Summary:

Okay, so here’s another fun little disaster child of a story that’s been living rent‑free in my head for way too long. I finally wrangled it onto the page (screen? 🤔💭 ) and—surprise!—I’ve got maybe two chapters. Which, of course, means it’s NOWHERE NEAR complete. But hey, my ADHD brain never stops throwing new plots and storylines at me, so I promise it’ll keep growing.

Notes:

Yall finally get to enjoy this gem of a picture of Uncle Lamb and Claire, that I created back when Meta AI was cool.

 

 

Claire had grown up among dust and ruins, toddling through dig sites from the time she was five. Archaeology was the rhythm of her childhood—the hum of generators, the scent of earth freshly turned, the quiet thrill of discovery. When her parents died, the only family she had left was her uncle, Quentin Lambert Beauchamp—“Uncle Lamb.”

 

Lamb had never imagined himself a guardian. A lifelong bachelor, he had chosen freedom over family, devoting himself to the restless pursuit of history. He thrived on the ability to pack up and vanish to the next excavation, unburdened by ties or obligations. But all of that changed the day the phone rang.

 

“Dr. Beauchamp,” the voice on the line began, steady but grave. “I’m very sorry to inform you that your brother and sister-in-law were in a car accident. They did not survive. We currently have your niece, Claire Beauchamp, in our custody. Mr. and Mrs. Beauchamp listed you as her guardian should anything happen to them. Claire is safe with us until you arrive in London. She mentioned you’re abroad for work.”

 

The words struck Lamb like a landslide. His brother—gone. His sister-in-law—gone. Claire, only a child, now under the care of strangers. And he, of all people, was expected to step into the role of protector. He realized he had been silent too long when the woman cleared her throat gently.

 

“Mr. Beauchamp?”

 

He blinked, forcing himself back into the present. “Yes—yes, ma’am. I’m here. Forgive me, I was caught off guard by your news.”

 

Her tone softened. “I understand. I’m sorry to deliver this all at once, but Claire’s well-being is our priority. She is a remarkable child—curious, brave, and wonderfully kind—but she’s frightened. Getting her to someone familiar is essential.”

 

Quentin nodded instinctively, forgetting she couldn’t see him. “Yes. I understand. Thank you. I’ll begin arranging a flight to London immediately. May I speak to my niece?”

 

There was a rustle on the other end, followed by the woman’s voice again. “Of course, sir. I’ll transfer you to my colleague’s line so Claire can speak with you.”

 

Quentin drew a long, steadying breath. “Thank you, my dear.”

 

---

 

 Claire’s voice was small but steady when she came on the line. “Hallo, Uncle Lamb. They said I could talk to you. I’m being very good. I’m not crying.”

 

Lamb’s heart clenched at her bravery, though he could hear the effort it took. He answered softly, full of warmth, telling her how glad he was to hear her voice and promising that she was safe and he was coming as quickly as possible. Claire spoke briskly, almost as if rehearsed, explaining that the ladies had given her biscuits and that she had told them she liked the ones with jam in the middle—just like her mother used to buy. Lamb paused, steadying himself, and reminded her that her parents had loved her more than anything. Though they could not be there now, he assured her she would not be alone, because he would be.

 

Claire brightened, covering the tremor in her voice. She told him she had already explained to the women that he was an archaeologist, and that perhaps she could help him when she lived with him. She was very good at digging, she insisted, recalling proudly how she had once found a worm and hadn’t been afraid. Lamb smiled despite the ache in his chest and told her she was already a brave explorer. He painted a picture of their future together—traveling to Egypt, Greece, perhaps even Scotland—where she would have her own satchel and write down their discoveries side by side. Claire’s voice lifted with excitement as she asked if she might have a hat like his, the big floppy one. He chuckled and promised she would, a proper adventurer’s hat made just for her.

 

Her tone softened then, almost slipping, as she repeated something her mother had once said: adventures were better when you came home again. Lamb’s voice grew tender as he reassured her that her mother was right, and that wherever they went, they would always make a home together. She sighed bravely, promising to wait and be very good until he arrived. Lamb’s reply was firm and steady, a promise wrapped in love: it would not be long, he told her, and soon they would begin their grand adventure together.

 

---

 

Months later, Claire moved through the dig site with the confidence of someone twice her age. The child who had once clutched the phone with trembling hands now strode across the dusty ground like an apprentice archaeologist. Her small boots left prints among the trenches, and she carried a notebook tucked under her arm, scribbled with sketches and observations in a hand that was surprisingly neat for her age.

 

Lamb’s colleagues had long since stopped treating her as a child. She spoke to them with the poise of an adult, asking sharp questions about pottery shards and soil layers, listening intently to their explanations before offering her own theories. “This one looks like it was used for cooking,” she declared one morning, holding up a fragment of clay with a seriousness that made the men and women around her smile. “See the burn marks? That means fire.”

 

Quentin Lambert Beauchamp watched her with a mixture of pride and awe. She was fearless, inquisitive, and astonishingly quick to learn. Where others saw a little girl, he saw a budding scholar, already weaving herself into the rhythm of excavation life. He crouched beside her as she brushed dirt from a small bronze clasp, guiding her hands with gentle patience. “Steady now, Claire. Artifacts are like secrets—they reveal themselves only if you treat them kindly.”

 

Claire grinned, her eyes bright with discovery. “Then we’ll be very kind, Uncle Lamb. And when we find something important, we’ll write it down together.”

 

The colleagues chuckled at her earnestness, but Lamb only nodded gravely, as though she were already his equal. In truth, she was becoming exactly that—his partner in adventure, his companion in the pursuit of history. What had begun as tragedy had transformed into a new life, one filled with dust, laughter, and the thrill of uncovering stories buried deep in the earth.

 

---

 

 

Today was the best day at the dig site! Uncle Lamb let me carry my own brush and trowel, and I felt very important. The sun was hot, and the dust made my nose tickle, but I didn’t mind because I was busy being an archaeologist.

 

This morning I found a tiny piece of pottery buried under the sand. At first it looked like just a rock, but when I brushed it carefully, I saw the curved edge. Uncle Lamb said it might have been part of a bowl. I told him it was probably used for soup, because everyone needs soup. He laughed and said I was already making “interpretations.” That’s what archaeologists do!

 

I also talked with Mr. Harris, one of Uncle Lamb’s colleagues. He showed me how to tell the difference between bones and stones. I asked him lots of questions, and he said I sounded like a professor. I liked that very much.

 

For lunch we had bread, cheese, and apples. Uncle Lamb gave me a piece of dried fig, which was chewy and sweet. I pretended it was ancient food from the site, and that I was tasting history. Later, someone shared biscuits, and I ate two even though Uncle Lamb said one was enough.

 

In the afternoon, I helped uncover a bronze clasp. It was green and rusty, but I thought it was beautiful. Uncle Lamb said it was “corroded,” but I said it looked like treasure. He promised we’d clean it together tomorrow.

 

When the sun started to set, the whole site turned golden. I sat on a rock and wrote notes in my little book, just like the grown-ups do. I wrote:

 

 

I think Mummy and Daddy would be proud of me. I miss them, but Uncle Lamb says we are making new adventures together, and I believe him.

Notes:

Okay but… that line—‘Hallo, Uncle Lamb. They said I could talk to you. I’m being very good. I’m not crying.’ 🥹🥹 It absolutely wrecks me. Just imagine little five‑year‑old Claire, trying so hard to be ‘good’ after losing her parents, swallowing her grief because she thinks that’s what’s expected of her. The innocence and quiet strength in those words… it’s devastating.

Tell me this—After reading this loose version of 'chapter one', would y’all be interested in hearing about Claire’s life with Uncle Lamb before she ever crosses paths with Jamie? I’m thinking a few chapters tracing her childhood and young adulthood, growing up at his side, and slowly becoming the woman Jamie will one day fall in love with.

What do y’all think? Right now, my second chapter jumps straight ahead to Claire meeting Jamie. But after rereading this first chapter, I’m tempted to slow things down and explore more of Claire’s life before Jamie—her world with Uncle Lamb, the experiences that shaped her, and how she became the woman we know. I feel like it could add some depth before the big moment.

Notes:

Each chapter/storyline will be 'to be continued' or not!! :)