Outlander Fanfiction: In the Mist

Claire

Sussex, Virginia
28th March 1858

He had tried so hard to forget, to put it all behind him. But you can't run from your past, the pain and trauma always followed no matter the distance. Even if he was an ocean away from where it all happened, the scars and the memories remained.

No matter where he went, there were walls. Everything had walls, both physical and mental. Whether to lock something in or keep something out, he was never sure. The thing he was sure of, there was always a wall.

The stone walls of Wentworth prison acted as a barrier between life, and death. The separation of humanity, and the broken spirits of those who had lost it. They trapped abused bodies and tortured minds inside those bloody walls. Those who still had hope would try and fight it. They screamed and screamed, the sound echoing on deaf ears, unheard.

They fought against the iron chains that held them, leaving their wrists red and raw. Jamie remembered every single moment, every detail.

If he closed his eyes, he could feel the sharp pull of the hairs on his wrists being caught in the irons. The metal that had been so cold at first, now warmed by his own body. That sound of chain scraping against stone would never leave him, constantly echoing in his mind.

The leather of the whip that had been used to tear him open felt as vivid as it had the day it happened. Each time he heard the snap, he felt its bite. He'd refused to cry out or beg for mercy, he would not give the onlookers that satisfaction. Then that thick, warm liquid ran down his body, turning sticky as it dried. His life's blood, leaving him behind.

But above all else, that voice stayed with him. Whispering the same proposition over and over again.

Give yourself to me, make free of your body. Do it, and I will make sure there is no second flogging.

But Jamie wouldn't break–refused to give him what he wanted. What would his family think of him if he surrendered himself? What would he think of himself?

Maybe it would have been less painful, but he would not give in. It didn't matter if he died there, at least he had his dignity and his pride. He would still be Jamie; not some shell of a man, living the rest of his life in shame.

Even so, the memory of it tormented him – reliving it every time he closed his eyes. But this time was different. This time, he wasn't so lucky. He didn't escape, and as a result, allowed Randall to do with him as he pleased.

Jamie!

Jamie, wake up!

He woke to find her face hovering over his, and immediately, he felt safe. He tried to speak, but the words remained trapped in his throat.

"Are you alright?" Her hair hung loose around her face, the white of her shift peeking through the blanket that was wrapped tightly around her. She looked exactly as she had that morning in the woods.

All he could manage was a nod, even though he was nowhere near alright, and she knew it;  but she let him keep his pride and said nothing.

She stood and readjusted the blanket that was the only boundary between scandal and modesty.

"Breakfast will be in about an hour. Try to get some rest until then. You'll need it."

He tried to swallow the lump in his throat as the door closed behind her. He couldn't tell if his heart was still racing from the nightmare, or because of her.

***

The sun had barely peeked above the horizon, but his day, like the rest, had already begun.