The Reunion

The reunion after 20 years ( Voyager)

I want — ” He stop­ped and swal­lo­wed, still hol­ding my hand. His fin­gers found and touched the sil­ver ring once more. “I want ver­ra much to kiss you,” he said soft­ly. “May I do that?”
The tears were bare­ly dam­med. Two more wel­led up and over­flowed; I felt them, full and round, roll down my cheeks.
“Yes,” I whis­pe­red.
He drew me slow­ly clo­se to him, hol­ding our lin­ked hands just under his bre­ast.
“I have­na done this for a ver­ra long time,” he said. I saw the hope and the fear dark in the blue of his eyes. I took the gift and gave it back to him.
“Neit­her have I,” I said softly.His hands cup­ped my face with exqui­si­te gent­le­ness, and he set his mouth on mine.
I didn’t know qui­te what I had been expec­ting. A repri­se of the poun­ding fury that had accom­pa­nied our final par­ting? I had remem­be­red that so often, lived it over in memo­ry, hel­pless to chan­ge the out­co­me. The half-rough, timeless hours of mutu­al pos­ses­si­on in the darkness of our mar­ria­ge bed? I had lon­ged for that, wake­ned often swea­ting and trem­bling from the memo­ry of it.
But we were stran­gers now, bare­ly tou­ching, each see­king the way toward joi­ning, slow­ly, ten­ta­tively, see­king and giving uns­po­ken per­mis­si­on with our silent lips. My eyes were clo­sed, and I knew without loo­king that Jamie’s were, as well. We were, qui­te sim­ply, afraid to look at each other.Without rai­sing his head, he began to stro­ke me light­ly, fee­ling my bones through my clo­thes, fami­lia­ri­zing him­s­elf again with the ter­rain of my body. At last his hand tra­v­eled down my arm and caught my right hand. His fin­gers traced my hand until they found the ring again, and cir­cled it, fee­ling the inter­la­ced sil­ver of the High­land pat­tern, polished with long wear, but still dis­tinct.
His lips moved from mine, across my cheeks and eyes. I gent­ly stro­ked his back, fee­ling through his shirt the marks I couldn’t see, the rem­nants of old scars, like my ring, worn but still distinct.“I’ve seen ye so many times,” he said, his voice whis­pe­ring warm in my ear. “You’ve come to me so often. When I drea­med some­ti­mes. When I lay in fever. When I was so afraid and so lonely I knew I must die. When I nee­ded you, I would always see ye, smi­ling, with your hair cur­ling up about your face. But ye never spo­ke. And ye never touched me.”
“I can touch you now.” I reached up and drew my hand gent­ly down his temp­le, his ear, the cheek and jaw that I could see. My hand went to the nape of his neck, under the club­bed bron­ze hair, and he rai­sed his head at last, and cup­ped my face bet­ween his hands, love glo­wing strong in the dark blue eyes.
“Din­na be afraid,” he said soft­ly. “There’s the two of us now.”

Pictures from Outlander

Later.….….…..

He rol­led to one side, shif­ting his weight care­ful­ly so as not to squash me, and lifted him­s­elf to lie face-to-face with me.
“Nor me, my Sas­se­nach,” he said, and kis­sed me, very light­ly, but lin­ge­ring, so that I had time just to clo­se my lips in a tiny bite on the full­ness of his lower lip.
“It’s no just the bed­ding, ye ken,” he said, drawing back a litt­le at last. His eyes loo­ked down at me, a soft deep blue like the warm tro­pic sea.
“No,” I said, tou­ching his cheek. “It isn’t.”
“To have ye with me again — to talk wi’ you — to know I can say any­thing, not guard my wor­ds or hide my thoughts — God, Sas­se­nach,” he said, “the Lord knows I am lust-cra­zed as a lad, and I can­na keep my hands from you — or any­thing else — ” he added, wry­ly, “but I would count that all well lost, had I no more than the plea­su­re of havin’ ye by me, and to tell ye all my heart.”

with me again

It was lonely without you,” I whis­pe­red. “So lonely.”
“And me,” he said. He loo­ked down, long las­hes hiding his eyes, and hesi­ta­ted for a moment.
“I will­na say that I have lived a monk,” he said quiet­ly. “When I had to — when I felt that I must or go mad — ”
I laid my fin­gers against his lips, to stop him.
“Neit­her did I,” I said. “Frank — ”
His own hand pres­sed gent­ly against my mouth.Both dumb, we loo­ked at each other, and I could feel the smi­le gro­wing behind my hand, and my own under his, to match it. I took my hand away.
“It doe­s­na signi­fy,” he said. He took his hand off my mouth.
“No,” I said. “It doesn’t mat­ter.” I traced the line of his lips with my fin­ger.
“So tell me all your heart,” I said. “If there’s time.”

All rights for the Pic­ture go to the right­ful owner Starz.
excerpt and Quotes 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

4 Comments

  1. Seka
    May 3
    Reply

    OMG I’m reread Voya­ger and I’m at the same chap­ter right now. Love

    • Heike Ginger Ba
      May 3
      Reply

      Hi Ani­ta,

      thank you so much for your visit..like i said née my love­sto­ry today..so i put them now together…LG Hei­ke

  2. May 3
    Reply

    How in the hell do you know all my favo­ri­te parts of The OL series? Oh right they are the Jai­me and Clai­re love inter­ac­tions! I ado­re any one of them. Keep picking the win­ners!

    • Heike Ginger Ba
      May 3
      Reply

      Hi Nor­ma,
      yess love all their inter­ac­tions too and will try to keep picking my (and your) favo­ri­te Moments.
      Thanks for your com­ment ! LG Hei­ke

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