The Strength of a High and Noble Hill (An Outlander Story)

Chapter 56: Waking in a Nightmare

Everything is a blur for Brian after he's been pulled down from the tree but physically he feels battered and bruised, poked and prodded. The world keeps fading in and out as he struggles to stay conscious, afraid that if he falls asleep he won't wake up again.

The blackness melts away around him once more. He hears the soft melody of Frère Jacques before it slowly fades away, a soft hand on his cheek. He flickers open his eyes. Once again the world swims into view and he can't tell what he is looking at and struggles to understand. He catches sight of the purple, red and black colours that litter his body and his head throbs. He feels something in his hair pulling softly as it weaves through.

His mind wonders, his throat feels tight, like he's not breathing properly. He feels no air moving in his mouth or nose, his throat is closed and his chest burns. He jerks, flailing with his arms, towards his throat to where he thinks the pain is. He tries to cough and can't, tries to gulp air and finds none, struck something hard—

"Da! Mama!" He hears faintly as he panics. If he was thinking clearly, the terror and franticness in the person's voice would have caused him to pause.

Brian hears rustling around him as he grasps at what feels like an object in his neck – he realises it's a tube – clutches at it, struggling vainly to speak, and shaking his head violently. Suddenly, hands are grabbing his arms, yanking them away from his neck, pinning them down. In his hands wake, he feels something thick and wet on his throat.

He blinks, his vision swimming, gradually clearing. Arms are holding him, a hand is clasping his arm, another on his shoulder, pressing hard. Pressure, warmth. A face appears above him, a blur of skin, a blaze of reddish hair. His eyes focus a little, bringing a harsh, fierce face into view. Da. Jamie Fraser.

"Mo mhac," Da murmurs softly. Blue eyes stare intently into his own – eyes that mirror his – so close he feels warm breath on his face. "Ye safe now. Dinna fash now, m'annsachd."

Brian gazes intently up at his father. His chest still burns but he is breathing, whistling can be heard through the tube due to his quick heavy breaths; he feels the soreness of the tiny muscles between his ribs as they move. He hadn't died then; it hurt too much.

He examines the words, feeling the weight of them. A feeling of comfort comes over him and tears stream down his cheeks. Arms wrap around him, arms that he recognises as his Da's but also Mama's and Ellen's. Within the weight of his parents' and sister's arms, he feels like a little boy again.

That sense of comfort is quickly gone when he tries to open his mouth to speak but he can't. He lets out more gasps which continue to whistle through the tube in his neck.

"He's struggling." He hears his Mama say urgently. Da takes him firmly by the other shoulder as he and Mama help to ease him back on the pillow. He goes with it, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Brian realises that he doesn't seem to be able to speak but he still tries to speak. His mouth works urgently, asking silent questions.

"I had to make an incision in your neck, to help you breathe." His mother explains in full doctor mode. "The tube has been dislodged slightly, reopening the wound."

Brian blinks at her. He's bleeding? That explains the dampness he had felt on his neck. He creases his face in frustration, trying to express his displeasure.

"I know, I know," Mama replies. "But I don't want to risk moving it until the swelling of the tissues in your throat goes down."

——

Brian, as well as Isaiah Morton, who'd been shot in the back at close range, likely by the Brown brothers, are soon moved to the Sherstons to recuperate from their injuries. The Sherston couple, Hubert and Phoebe, stare at Brian with a mixture of fascination, intrigue and uncomfortability, which is never more prevalent than when they awkwardly ask after his injuries, never directly commenting on what happened. Not that his own family seems to ask him what happened. Roger had likely explained what had happened.

The Sherstons are good hosts, however, making sure that he and Isaiah are comfortable along with Mama Da, Ellen and Roger, who all take round-the-clock care with Brian. They make sure that Brian's tube doesn't become clogged or dislodged.

Other than that, Brian just lies listlessly on his back and sleeps a great deal, which in other cases would be a good thing, but Brian's slumber is never restful. That's what he hears everyone else refer to it as such but to Brian it's something he sought, to be unconscious and he would cling to it stubbornly. Unfortunately for him, Brian comes from a family of stubborn asses who will not let him, particularly his sister.

Ellen takes the job upon herself to force him awake every few hours, if not her then Roger, who unfortunately takes his job very seriously, to eat and have the tube and its incision cleansed and tended. Brian couldn't look at any of them and instead, he would fix his eyes on the middle distance and stare darkly at nothing, making the barest acknowledgement of remarks addressed to him. Once finished, his eyes would close again, and he would lie back on his pillow, bandaged hands folded across his chest like he's in a coffin, with the breathy whistle from the tube in his neck.

Murtagh had died, that's what they told him. Killed by Hugh Findlay. Murtagh had found his cause and become a leader among men, but he died doing what he had sworn his life to do: protecting his Godson and fulfilling his oath to Brian's Grandmother, Ellen. He died a hero's death by saving Da in that way. It was his last act on earth, and that was how it was supposed to be.

Isaiah Morton is recovering well. He has had no infection and very little fever though that may be in part due to, a few days after the battle, the appearance of Alicia Brown, now enormously pregnant, as an important boost to Morton's recovery. Within an hour of her arrival, he was sitting up in his cot, pale but jubilant, hair sticking up on end and his hand lovingly pressed against the writhing bulges of his unborn child. Brian is glad for him as he, unlike Brian, will be able to live a proper life while there's a good chance Brian will likely never be able to speak again. Who would want someone like that?

Why is he still here?

——

A/N:

mo mhac = my son

m'annsachd = my blessing