Home again

the who­le Sce­ne from Voya­ger:

Gene­va — Willie’s mother — she wan­ted my body,” he said soft­ly, watching the gecko’s pul­sing sides. “Lao­g­hai­re nee­ded my name, and the work of my hands to keep her and her bairns.” He tur­ned his head then, dark blue eyes fixed on mine. “John — well.” He lifted his shoul­ders and let them drop. “I could­na give him what he wan­ted — and he is fri­end enough not to ask it.
“But how shall I tell ye all the­se things,” he said, the line of his mouth twis­ting. “And then say to you — it is only you I have ever loved? How should you belie­ve me?”
The ques­ti­on hung in the air bet­ween us, shim­me­ring like the reflec­tion from the water below.
“If you say it,” I said, “I’ll belie­ve you.”
“You will?” He sound­ed faint­ly asto­nis­hed. “Why?”
“Becau­se you’re an honest man, Jamie Fra­ser,” I said, smi­ling so that I wouldn’t cry. “And may the Lord have mer­cy on you for it.”
“Only you,” he said, so soft­ly I could bare­ly hear him. “To wor­ship ye with my body, give ye all the ser­vice of my hands. To give ye my name, and all my heart and soul with it. Only you. Becau­se ye will not let me lie — and yet ye love me.”
I did touch him then.“Jamie,” I said soft­ly, and laid my hand on his arm. “You aren’t alo­ne any­mo­re.”
He tur­ned then and took me by the arms, sear­ching my face.
“I swo­re to you,” I said. “When we mar­ried. I didn’t mean it then, but I swo­re — and now I mean it.” I tur­ned his hand over in both mine, fee­ling the thin, smooth skin at the base of his wrist, whe­re the pul­se beat under my fin­gers, whe­re the bla­de of his dirk had cut his flesh once, and spil­led his blood to ming­le with mine fore­ver.
I pres­sed my own wrist against his, pul­se to pul­se, heart­beat to heart­beat.
“Blood of my blood…” I whis­pe­red.
“Bone of my bone.” His whis­per was deep and hus­ky. He knelt qui­te sud­den­ly befo­re me, and put his fold­ed hands in mine; the ges­tu­re a High­lan­der makes when swea­ring loyal­ty to his chief­tain.
“I give ye my spi­rit,” he said, head bent over our hands.
“’Til our life shall be done,” I said soft­ly. “But it isn’t done yet, Jamie, is it?”
Then he rose and took the shift from me, and I lay back on the nar­row bed naked, pul­led him down to me through the soft yel­low light, and took him home, and home, and home again, and we were neit­her one of us alo­ne.

home-again

All rights for the Pic­ture of Jamie go to the right­ful owner Starz/​Sony
Quo­te and Excerpt by Diana Gabaldon from “Voyager”
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

2 Comments

  1. Taimi Pimentola-Heikkinen
    January 8
    Reply

    Awe­so­me! Well done!

  2. Birgit Fecht
    January 9
    Reply

    Very good?as always

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