Triallaire

Shadow of Grief

I have been astonished that men could die martyrs for their religion - I have shuddered at it; I shudder no more. I could be martyred for my religion - love is my religion, and I could die for that. I could die for you. My creed is love, and you are it's only tenant. - John Keats

Words powerful enough do not exist to describe what it feels to lose the one you love.

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2 October, 2146

London, England

TOM POV

The phone call he received nearly made his heart stop. "Good mornin', sir, this is Nurse MacDonald at the Uist and Barra Hospital. We have Miss Catrìona Fowlis in our A&E department, Mr. Randall, and accordin' te digital records, yer her next of kin." Tom hadn't responded - he was in shock. They had Catrìona in their hospital? But... How? "Mr. Randall? Are ye there, sir?"

"Uh... Yes, I... I'm here..." said Tom, pressing his palm firmly against his forehead.

"Would ye mind comin' in? I'm afraid Miss Fowlis is verra disoriented and a bit frightened. We think she's just escaped a kidnapper," said Nurse MacDonald quietly.

"Uh... Y-Yeah, of... of course... You said you have Catrìona Fowlis ? Red hair, blue eyes, freckles all over her face?" Tom asked the nurse.

"Oh, aye, she's all those things. Though I'd describe her eyes as a bit more grey," Nurse MacDonald replied. "When can ye come in?"

"Well, I... I'm in London at the moment, but I can catch a flight as soon as I can. Maybe... a few hours?" Tom said to the nurse.

"Tha's fine. Do we have yer permission te sedate Miss Fowlis? She's been rather combative and Dr. Lewis would like te sedate her," asked Nurse MacDonald.

"Er... Yeah, that... that's fine. I'll be there as quickly as I can," said Tom, and he hung up the phone. The phone had rang in the early hours of dawn, waking him up from a deep slumber. He was sat up in bed, staring down in a stunned silence at the blankets covering his legs. She was alive... Eight years ago, she had disappeared during the Second Battle of Culloden, never to be seen or heard from again. Tom's brother, Richard, had claimed that he'd killed her, but there was never any palpable evidence that he'd done so - still, Tom had cut him off because of it, even after the war between Scotland and England had come to an end.

Scotland had won the rebellion three years before in 2143, five years after Catrìona had gone missing. The aging King Edward IX signed a treaty with Scotland, who wouldn't have a monarch, but instead had Parliament and a Prime Minister. Though he fought for Scotland, Tom had moved back to England to be closer to his parents, who had all but cut him off when he joined the Scots in their rebellion, but welcomed him back home, even though the English lost. Glancing at the side table at his bedside, he came across a photograph of himself with Commander MacLeod, posing with Prime Minister MacAllistor, the elected Prime Minister at the time the Scottish won, and the English Prince of Wales, Prince Alexander. Given King Edward IX's failing health, it seemed possible that Prince Alexander would soon become King Alexander I of England. Prince Alex concerned him; he was a spoiled man who openly hated the Scottish and made sure everyone knew how he felt about England's neighbours.

The blankets stirred beside him and Tom glanced over at Gemma, who stretched like a cat as she woke up. "Tommy?" she asked into the darkness sleepily. "What is it?"

"I... I have to go to Scotland," Tom said to her, not able to look at her.

"Why? Army business?" Gemma asked him, scooting over so she could rest her head on his shoulder.