The Strength of a High and Noble Hill (An Outlander Story)

Chapter 9: Returning

April 1968

"Brian?"

Brian, now nearly twenty-two, turns from the painting resting on the wall he'd been staring at when he hears his mother's voice. He turns to see his mother and sister standing next to each other with a man standing next to them among the many people who have gathered in this house. The man is tall and pale with short brown hair and a thick beard, but he appears nice and gentile.

"Yes?" He says as he wanders over to them.

"This is Roger Wakefield; the Reverend was his father." Mama introduces. Brian and Roger shake hands and share polite smiles.

"You seem familiar." Brian comments.

"Do I?" Roger asks.

"Maybe it's because you met, when you were small, Brian." Mama explains. "Just before you turned two. We stayed with the Reverend and Mrs Graham, you father and I before we later moved to Boston."

"Ah." Roger acknowledges, turning to Brian with a warmer smile. "And wha' ha' ye been doin' since ye last here, Brian?"

"I'm a journalist. I work for a newspaper."

Ellen scoffs good naturedly. "He's being modest. He works for the Boston Globe. It's largest paper in New England."

"And he's becoming one of their top journalists." Mama adds.

Brian blushes. "Guys..."

"Hey, no need te be modest." Roger protests. "Ye should be proud o' yer accomplishments."

Brian raises an eyebrow. "And what do you do?"

Roger shrugs with a smile. "Weel, I'm a history professor at Oxford."

Brian smirks. "No need to hide that!"

Roger shrugs with a grin. "Wha' drew ye te journalism?"

"Well, I..."

As Brian talks to Roger, Ellen watches him closely before turning to her mother. "This must be the most comfortable and at ease I've ever seen him. Scotland seems to have brought out a different side to him."

Her mother doesn't look at her, her eyes flickering everywhere but her. "Yes, it seems so."

——

Roger, Ellen and Brian stand in the middle of Fort William. Roger had been giving them a tour of the different local sights.

"You know, it's funny how at ease he is with you. It isn't usual as he's always seemed to struggle to connect with others growing up except with me and Mama." Ellen remarks as she watches her brother as he wanders ahead while she and Roger linger behind.

Roger shrugs. "I like 'im. He seems a good person."

"He is." Ellen smiles softly. "Been my and Mama's rock for as long as I can remember. I've really relied on him these couple years after Daddy died."

Up ahead, Brian looks around himself, feeling uneasy. He glances up at a wooden structure that stands in the middle. It looms over Brian ominously causing him to shiver. The grey, overcast skies add to the unnerving atmosphere. He reaches towards it as if to touch it before retreating quickly.

"Brian?" He looks over to see his sister looking at him in concern.

Brian tries to give her a reassuring smile, but it comes out as a grimace. "Sorry, it's just, um, this place is giving me the chills."

Roger nods in agreement. "Wi' good reason. Many Scottish prisoners were flogged here. A lot o' blood was spilled on this ground."

"Let's go." Ellen encourages, looking at Brian in concern.

He realises that he's actually shaking. This confuses Brian, not understanding why this place disturbs him so much.

——

Ellen, Brian and Roger riffle through the late Reverend's things. Trying to find what he had on their parents. Brian's stomach drops when he comes across a newspaper clipping.

"Hey guys, look at this." Brian calls to the other two. They both lean around him to have a look.

""Kidnapped by the Fairies"?" Ellen reads.

"'Claire Randall, wife of noted historian Frank Randall... Holiday in Inverness. Car found. Police thought she was possibly murdered.'" Roger continues to read.

"Well, obviously not. She turned up." Ellen remarks.

"Three years later." Brian points out. "'Mysteriously found wandering, dressed in rags, disoriented, incoherent and carrying a small male child.'" He stops breathing when he reads that. That's not— it can't—

"I think we've found yer "incident."" Roger remarks.

"El, look at the date..." Brian whispers.

"April 1948. I was born in November '48." Ellen murmurs.

"Were ye born early?" Roger asks.

"No, she wasn't, and anyway I was meant to have been born May '46 but it says here Mama suddenly appeared with a small boy in April '48 after being missing for three years." Brian replies.

"Then daddy, daddy's not—" Ellen struggles to say the words.

"He's not our dad." Brian finishes. If this is true, then things are finally making sense.

——

A/N: Please leave comments on how you're enjoying this story and what you think.