His heart would break with love

The who­le Sce­ne:

THE BOY WAS NOT qui­te three; he could not have gone far. He couldn’t. So Jamie told him­s­elf, try­ing to con­trol the panic that was cree­ping into his mind as fast as the fog was covering the ground.
“Stay here, and stay toge­ther!” he said to Iso­bel and Lady Dunsa­ny, both of whom blin­ked at him in sur­pri­se. “Call out for the lad, keep cal­ling out — but din­na move a step. Here, hold the hor­ses.” He thrust the bund­led reins into Wilberforce’s hand, and the lawy­er ope­ned his mouth as though to pro­test, but Jamie didn’t stay to hear it.
“Wil­liam!” he bel­lo­wed, plun­ging into the fog.
“Wil­lie! Wil­lie!” The women’s hig­her voices obli­gin­gly took up the call, regu­lar as a bell on a ship’s buoy, and ser­ving the same pur­po­se. “Wil­lie! Whe­re are you­uuu?”
The air had chan­ged qui­te sud­den­ly, no lon­ger clear but soft and echoing; sound see­med to come from ever­y­whe­re and nowhe­re.
“Wil­liam!” The sound boun­ced off the stones and the short, lea­the­ry turf. “Wil­liam!”
He was moving up the slo­pe, Jamie could tell that much. Perhaps Wil­liam had gone to explo­re the shepherd’s hut. Wil­ber­force had joi­ned the women now in cal­ling out but was doing it in coun­ter­point, rather than in uni­son with them.
Jamie had the fee­ling that he could not bre­a­the, that the fog was cho­king him — but this was non­sen­se. Pure illusion.“William!”His shins thum­ped into the fal­len wall of the shepherd’s hut. He could not see more than the fain­test out­line of the stones but felt his way insi­de and craw­led quick­ly along the walls, cal­ling out for the boy. Not­hing.
Fogs might last an hour, or a day.
“Wil­lie-iam-Wil-Wil­ly-iam-WIL­LIE!”
Jamie grit­ted his teeth. If they didn’t keep quiet now and then, he couldn’t hear Wil­lie shou­ting back. If the boy was capa­ble of shou­ting. The foo­ting was tre­ache­rous, the grass slip­pe­ry, the ground rocky. And if he went all the way to the bot­tom of the slo­pe, the moss …
He went hig­her, among the tumb­led stones. Stag­ge­red from one to ano­t­her, fee­ling round their bases, stubbing his toes. The fog was cold in his chest, aching. His foot came down on some­thing soft — Willie’s jacket — and his heart leapt.“WILLIAM!”
Was that a sound, a whim­per? He stop­ped dead, try­ing to lis­ten, try­ing to hear through the whis­per of the moving fog and the distant voices, caco­pho­nous as a ring of church bells.And then, qui­te sud­den­ly, he saw the boy cur­led up in a rocky hol­low, the yel­low of his shirt sho­wing brief­ly through an eddy in the fog. He lun­ged and sei­zed Wil­liam befo­re he could disap­pe­ar, clut­ched him to his bosom, say­ing, “It’s all right, a chuis­le, it’s all right now, din­na be trou­bled, we’ll go and see your gran­nie, aye?”
“Mac! Mac, Mac! Oh, Mac!”
Wil­lie clung to him like a leech, try­ing to bur­row into his chest, and he wrap­ped his arms tight around the boy, too over­co­me to speak.
To this point, he could not real­ly have said that he loved Wil­liam. Feel the ter­ror of respon­si­bi­li­ty for him, yes. Car­ry thought of him like a gem in his pocket, cer­tain­ly, reaching now and then to touch it, mar­ve­ling. But now he felt the per­fec­tion of the tiny bones of William’s spi­ne through his clo­thes, smooth as marbles under his fin­gers, smel­led the scent of him, rich with the incen­se of inno­cence and the faint tang of shit and clean linen. And thought his heart would break with love.

Jamie Fraser in Scottish Prisoner

All rights for the Pic­ture of Jamie go to the right­ful owner Starz/​Sony
Quo­te and Excerpt by Diana Gabaldon from “The Scottish Prisoner”
I own not­hing but the editing
Heike Ginger Ba Written by:

|Human|Woman|Mother|Wife|Friend| Photographer| Blogger|
|TV-Junkie|Photoshop-Beginner|Art-Lover|Cologne-based|Outlander-addict |Sherlockian |TWD-devoted

One Comment

  1. MomofMusa
    January 16
    Reply

    Thank you. .. I pray we see Jamie and litt­le Wil­liam a bit more in this up com­ing sea­son.

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