Killed you

The whole Scene:

We sat, hands clasped and pressed togeth­er on the bench, unmov­ing, unspeak­ing, for what seemed like hours, with the cool rain-breeze whis­per­ing our thoughts in the grape leaves above. Water drops scat­tered over us with the pass­ing of the wind, weep­ing for loss and separation.“You’re cold,” Jamie mur­mured at last, and pulled a fold of his cloak around me, bring­ing with it the warmth of his skin. I came slow­ly against him under its shel­ter, shiv­er­ing more at the star­tling solid­ness, the sud­den heat of him, than from the cold.I laid my hand on his chest, ten­ta­tive as though the touch of him might burn me in truth, and so we sat for a good while longer, let­ting the grape leaves talk for us.“Jamie,” I said soft­ly, at last. “Oh, Jamie. Where were you?”His arm tight­ened about me, but it was some time before he answered.“I thought ye were dead, mo duinne,” he said, so soft­ly I could hard­ly hear him above the rustling of the arbor.“I saw ye there—on the ground, at the last. God! Ye were so white, and your skirts all soaked wi’ blood…I tried to go to ye, Claire, so soon as I saw—I ran to ye, but it was then the Guard took me.”He swal­lowed hard; I could feel the tremor pass down him, through the long curve of his backbone.“I fought them…I fought, and aye I pleaded…but they would­na stay, and they car­ried me awa’ wi’ them. And they put me in a cell, and left me there…thinking ye were dead, Claire; know­ing that I’d killed you.”The fine tremor went on, and I knew he was weep­ing, though I could not see his face above me. How long had he sat alone in the dark of the Bastille, alone but for the scent of blood and the emp­ty husk of vengeance?“It’s all right,” I said, and pressed my hand hard­er against his chest, as though to still the hasty beat­ing of his heart. “Jamie, it’s all right. It…it wasn’t your fault.”“I tried to bash my head against the wall—only to stop think­ing,” he said, near­ly in a whis­per. “So they tied me, hand and foot. And next day, de Rohan found me, and told me that ye lived, though like­ly not for long.”He was silent then, but I could feel the pain inside him, sharp as crys­tal spears of ice.“Claire,” he mur­mured at last. “I am sorry.”I am sor­ry. The words were those of the note he had left me, before the world shat­tered. But now I under­stood them.“I know,” I said. “Jamie, I know. Fer­gus told me. I know why you went.”He drew a deep, shud­der­ing breath.“Aye, well…” he said, and stopped.I let my hand fall to his thigh; chilled and damp from the rain, his rid­ing breech­es were rough under my palm.

All rights for the Pic­ture go to the right­ful owner Starz
Quo­te and Excerpt by Diana Gabaldon from “DiA”
I own not­hing but the editing