♘
𝙇𝘼 𝘿𝙊𝙐𝙇𝙀𝙐𝙍 𝙀𝙓𝙌𝙐𝙄𝙎𝙀
OUTLANDER

ii. LASS FROM ANOTHER CENTURY
' ɪs ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ '

❝   Sing me a song of a lass that is gone
Say, could that lass be I?
Merry of soul she sailed on a day
Over the sea to Skye   ❞

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AMERICA
NORTH CAROLINA
1776

       || GENEVIEVE AWOKE WITH QUITE A STIR—EYES OF PALE BLUE FLUTTERED OPEN. A HARSH GRASP FOR AIR TUNNELS FROM TREMBLING LIPS. Pupils dilated upon the mellowing hues of blue and green melting into light from above. Her chest quite upheaved with every breath shallowing escaping.

A cold sweat has taken upon her forehead—snaking down across her cheekbones. Genevieve's eyes widened like saucers whence she finally came too. The young woman could barely remember anything of what had happened. Frankly, the last being only that of her friends and then touching a mysterious stone.

Slowly, using her elbows as leverage to push herself up, the rough texture of the forest floor grazing upon her fore arms. Around her, trees tower—their branches outstretched as they reach for the gloaming sky. The ambiance is filled with a symphony of chirruping cicadas and distant howls— besieging her senses. There's a relatively unseen, untouched peacefulness to them, the kind that can only come from insouciance to the passing of time.

Steadily holding herself up— bringing her legs up closer to her body. Genevieve raised a shaking palm up against the pounding headache that enveloped her—pulsating pain almost mirroring her disoriented state of mind. Her entire body felt as if it had been thrown off a bucking horse before being placed into helicopter spinning out of control.

Wrinkles crease slightly at the ends of her eyes as she glances up to the sky—holding a hand up to mask the cascading white light of the dawn sun. It merely had to be early morning, judging by how high the sun sat in the sky. The way the branches danced along with the clouds.

Jenny took a few slow glances from side to side at the shrubbery. The breeze was calming but had just enough power to slightly rustle the bouquet of leaves. The sights, the sounds, the smells – they all conveyed a stark contrast to a world different.

Upon looping her sight back, the young woman paused, noticing how much growth inhabited the rocks that laid the circle—shrubs and vines had claimed their worn faces. Genevieve furrowed a darkened brow, knowing full well those were not there before. The forest floor beside her was woven vastly with roots and grasses of all sorts. This did not feel like the place she had been—no way all of this could have grown up over night.

She didn't even notice the rate of her heart begin to accelerate, closely following by excessive inhalation—like jumper cables to a car battery, except the car battery in her version is numb. Her brain feels as if it were void from the nightmares that demanded to constantly persist in her every waking moment.

Slowly, whilst still scanning the area for any sign of potential threats, Genevieve rose to her feet. Of course, this did not follow without fumbling forward, digging her hands into the moistened, brown soil. Frustrated with her inability, Jenny wiped the freshly loosened clumps upon her pants—smearing it into the olive drab color.

Genevieve scanned the woods, turning herself to fulfill a full 360. Quite hesitant, she emerged out from the circle. Her boots cracking upon the sticks beneath her. Still surveying around for any threats, glancing to the forest floor that laid untouched in front of her—remembering the path she had walked when following the hawk and the unknown horse.

Perhaps then if she followed it, she'd be able to reunite with both Maria and Joe or at least something like that. As she slowly trudged through the undergrowth, Genevieve felt the pressure weigh heavy against her shoulders. The one of betrayal when realizing that the two people of whom she considered friends, did not care for her after all—letting her lay alone in the woods.

She continued to follow the covered path, anger boiling inside like a tea kettle when readying to whistle— Genevieve couldn't help be think of the very words to say to them when she got there. Words filled with hatred and distaste that is.

The birds continued their songs, the whistling to the unknown beat of the wind. The trees as the colors of the rainbow in rich, autumn mixes. A mixture of greens and yellows, intermixed with orange. The tree of where she had first sat beside became visible but it was different- smaller in fact and the large boulder beside it was barely peeking through the overgrowth.

" Hey, did you guys realize that I w...." the anger that filtered through her voice faded away into that of fear, " gone..."she whimpered out. A tingling of a chill spiraled down her back as her chest shuttered in. Her blue eyes settling upon the desolate spot of overgrowth that once held a fire and her drunken friends.

Swallowing this dread that pulsed through her body, Genevieve slowly descended from the trail with the main objective of finding home—but where that was, she had no clue. It was like being back in Vietnam all over again. Clueless of the terrain and wondering if the bush beside a tree was truly vacant of any occupants. Fearing when the next ambush would be nor was there a place to hide.

Frantically, she searched the surrounding area for them—any sign of human inhabitants. Screaming their names intermixed with that of cries. But to her dissatisfaction, there was none to be found.

Falling down to just one knee, she whimpered out a silent gasp—a cry of desperation. Placing her trembling hand against her mouth as she promptly bit down gently upon the flesh of the index finger—but not adding enough strength to draw blood.

As she swayed from side to side, closing her eyes and focusing on what she had been trained, something rustled from within the sparse bushes beside a tree. Her eyes immediately flicked open—pupils expanding.

Slowly, Genevieve arose to her feet, promptly stepping backwards away from the noise—her heart thumbed ferociously, it felt almost numb. Her hand trembled as she reached for the pistol fastened under the belt. Teeth chattering, it was too much to bare, those events playing over in the mind— ones she could not escape. She practically trip over herself as she turned to book it out of there.

Genevieve dashed through the woods, leaping over fallen branches like a hunter jumper after foxes. The dog tags she wore upon her neck danced up and down against her pale skin— clanging away to a beaten rhythm. Dodging and tucking under branches and around bushes. Her boots splashing across the thin creaks as everything blurred into this array of colors to an unknown land.

A clearing, the woods widening as the thin layer of pine needles and seeds disguised the forest floor. But as she ran, a glimpse of a shadow dashed just beside her with in the tree line.

There, in the corner of her sight, the flicker of the paling light of the early sun cascading across the silhouettes oftwo or three men—camouflaged in teal and green uniforms. Their straw hats flopping at the edges against the wind as they ran... towards her—armed with replicas of their version of a rifle.

Her pace quickened upon seeing them, her flight response kicked in, as now it sounded as though the scrubs and bushes were rattling from people hiding within them. Still focused ahead, but merely glancing to the side, she could still see them running at her; screaming words of which were in another language—the very one she had been taught to hate and fight.

She started convulsing, placing her hands atop her head as her body shuttered from the invisible explosions that erupted from behind. Men yelling and shouting from all angles of the woods started slowly fading in—drowning the calming singing of the birds. Sergeants and lieutenants throwing around commands and returning rapid gunfire.

Genevieve clenched her teeth so hard, her gums starting aching. The sounds that haunted her only grew with each second, the echoes of voices and gunfire became distorted until she finally collapsed to the ground. " Stop it!" She pleaded, clutching her hands against her ears. She bought her legs up and gently tapped her head against her knees.

Then it all stopped when she hear the cracking of twigs and talking in the near distance. Shaking and out of breath, taking her hands away from her ears, Genevieve stood to her feet. A sense of dread filled the area, the not knowing of what was to come. Genevieve clutched one hand into a fist—readying to strike if needed while the other reached for the pistol.

Walking towards it, she only paused when she heard voices—that of common talk. Instinctively, she would have booked it out of there, especially with the time over in the jungle—anything could have been there waiting. Sucking a deep breath in, she steadily unholstered the pistol tucked within her belt and began rounding the tree line—sighting a large clearing.

Then there stood a woman overlooking the field before her, with what looked to be a makeshift graveyard laid beside. But that wasn't what caught Genevieve's attention. It was the attire of which the woman was wearing. A dress... but not from the time she knew. It was too old fashioned...

Steadily, Genevieve began making her way towards the unknown lady—anchoring her feet side to side as she walked. And just as she enclosed the space behind the woman, a twig snapped and the woman immediately twisted around to face her.

Instinct drove Genevieve to instantly raise the gun towards the unsuspecting woman; hands trembling upon the cold steel. But, there was no click to the chamber upon noticing this woman's face. Did her eyes deceive her?

" Claire?" She hastily acquired—both showing equally puzzled and astonished looks. " Genevieve? Is that really you?" Claire spoke softly, her voice slightly quivering—before taking a slight step towards her. But the young soldier of another time took a step back, still poised— M1911 directed at the older woman's way. " I thought you were in Scotland? What are you doing here?"

Claire sighed heavily, " Jenny, it's a long story. But the importance is how are you here?"  Genevieve furrowed a brow, unsure of what she was truly asking. What did she mean by how are you here? But as Genevieve motioned to say something else to her, there was a relatively loud thud and her vision faded— awareness eclipsed by a blinding agony before the darkness enveloped her senses. The transition had been abrupt – one moment in the grasp of exploration and the next, she was felled and unconscious, laid low by an unknown adversary.

Claire gasps, rushing forward towards Genevieve's lump body. " Ian?! What have you done?" She hastily questions whilst looking over the young girl's head. Deep lines of worry marred her usually calm face, and her eyes darted frantically around, as if seeking answers in the chaos. The sight of Genevieve lying unconscious, prone on the rough, fallen grass—brought a wave of despair and anxiety.

Ian, whom had been hidden beside them the whole time quickly makes his presence's known— a long bow in hand. " Aye, I thought she was up to no good auntie.." But his very words were caught off by that of an angered Claire, " she's Brianna's friend!"

The young scot furrowed his brows together, placing the bow down beside his leg, "Well, good thing I only knocked her out." He simply retorts, pointing towards the end of his weapon. But Claire wasn't having it as she only gave him that characteristic glare.

" She'll be alright auntie. May definitely be a few wee hours before she awakes." He pauses, scratching away at his chin, Recognizing Genevieve's wild clothing. Bewilderment of his features quickly discerns that she is a stranger in this time. "Does this mean that she's like you and cousin Brianna?" The old healer sighs as she wipes her hands upon her dress, " I suppose so, but I didn't ever think I'd see her again. I thought the war had taken her..." Claire says, leaning over Genevieve's lump body—pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "She must have been the one you heard calling in the forest."

Ian solumly nods, looking upon the fallen woman on the ground, " Aye, but what do we do now auntie?" "I suppose, bring her to the house. I must find some appropriate clothing for her, she can not wear this.. uniform." Claire's voice breaks at the ending as she traces her finger against the left breast pocket—embroidered with U.S ARMY across it.

She retracts her hand and glances up to the young Ian," We must move her now before anyone sees her. We can't let them see her like this or at least not with this jacket on." Ian, still learning much about the time travel, nodded hesitantly.

Rollo whining slightly beside him—his amber eyes fixed upon the lump woman. The pup had taken quite the interest in her. Perhaps, he knew of her purpose. With one more glance around, the young Mohawk carefully placed one arm under the nook of Genevieve's knees and his other across her back. As Ian lifted her, it felt as though she was weightless—her wee body felt like a lump of blankets. Her right arm outstretched pass it's holding place upon her stomach.

It dangled aimlessly as Ian trudged along, with a desperate and worried Claire beside him. As they neared the house, she quickly removed her shawl and threw it half hazardly across Genevieve's army jacket. He was gazed upon her, almost forgetting Claire was there. The was a sorrow held to his features—one's that played merely by the eyes.

Claire comprehended the grave implications if anyone comes to know about Genevieve's strange circumstance—as she'd already been through such an ordeal. The revelation might lead to innumerable questions and potential chaos. After all, the people of the ridge still believed in witches. Consequently, Claire knew she was taking a huge gamble at bringing Genevieve back, but she couldn't just leave her there.

Utilizing her knowledge about the locals and their routines, Claire had timed their departure carefully; especially with Lizzie and the twins. Lord, she loved them dearly but they were constantly around. And right now wasn't the time.

It was a mere peaceful moment when Ian came bursting through the large Wooden door, Claire hot on his trail. A startled and confused Jamie arches a brow at both—his readers barely off the bridge of his nose. His mouth slightly a-gap as to stay something but Brianna's sudden gasp says all.

When Brianna saw Genevieve being carried in, her curiosity was piqued—faced with an unimaginable reality of her friend being able to skip through time just as she. Brianna's demeanor was a roller coaster ride—from shock and confusion to fascination and fear. Up to this point, it was only believed they could travel, but yet here Genevieve was.

Ian quickly follows Claire to her study with the array of the family following tow. Roger walked with his hands perched upon his hips—confusion etched across his features. How was this possible?

Genevieve's numb body forms slightly to the curves of the cot—as Claire places her legs straight upon the surface. She's quick to examine the young woman, delicately tracing over the slight knot formed on the brunette's head. Brianna moves in, holding baby Mandy close to her chest. " Mama, how is she here? I thought..." her voice trails off as Genevieve moans silently.

Upon laying eyes on her childhood friend, with Mandy cooing softly—a sea of emotions swept over Brianna once more. The shock and disbelief momentarily gave way to an overriding sense of joy at their unexpected reunion, a sight she never thought she'd witness. Brianna hadn't heard anything from Jenny once the girl left for Vietnam.

"We must find the appropriate dressing for her: she can not wear this uniform here." Claire states firmly once more , giving a subtle nod to Brianna. " I believe you and her are the same size, so that should work." Her voice rains with empathy amidst inexplicable circumstances.

It was a few hours later, with Brianna standing as an unwavering pillar of support for Genevieve. Remaining by her side, patiently observing—awaiting for her friend's inevitable awakening from the induced stupor of being hit.

There is the smell of mildew and dust—sharp and distinct that invade Genevieve's nostrils. It was quite pleasant compared to the smells she witness over there. Her lids feel weighted shut— a light glowing through them in a reddish-yellow assurance. Her brain was slowly be surely awaking, a pain pulses at a pinpoint at the back of her head.

Slowly her eyes flickered open, going up and down the wall. From her disoriented state, Genevieve found herself in a room strikingly different from where she was. Recognizing the architecture, lack of modern technology, the slightly aged wooden interior and cabinets lined with antique bottles.

Steady, with a grunt Genevieve raises her right hand, gazing it through her brunette hair before stopping upon the bump. Jenny's senses were flooded with another wave of a peculiar intrigue. Questions flooded her mind: "How did I get here?" "Is this a dream?" This had morphed into a vivid nightmare it would seem. A cruel trick from above?

Suddenly, she stirs with a primal surge of adrenaline to be at the ready—almost as if her drill sergeant was there to will her up to standing. But the heavy limbs disobey. A background noise, soft intermittent talking. A voice stands out about all, one she had not heard since the military.

"Where am I?" she murmured to herself, eyes finally settling upon a feminine figure beside her. The red hair slowly faded in from a blur. Jenny immediately shifted upon the dainty cot, merely shaking its core as she scrambled away. After some rather distasteful words uttered from her mouth, the realization was truly overwhelming. An immense relief swelled up in her heart, overpowering the initial shock and replacing it with a wave of unexpected happiness. The familiarity of her friend reassured her; Brianna's presence, although utterly bewildering.

"Bri?" Genevieve acquires rather hesitantly, not sure if this was a dream or allusion of being dead. Of course, everything around her felt real—the blanket, the cot, the air. Brianna's features softened, offering a hand towards the frightened friend, " Yes, it is me. In the mere flesh." Flashing a smile at the frowning Genevieve. But Mandy slowly moved herself upon her mothers cradling arm.

Jenny gasped slightly at the sight, flinching away from the child's coos. Her eyes widened like a deer upon seeing headlights—knowing well that Brianna didn't want children, " Well," she swallows hard, "It seems I have missed quite a bit." She croaks out a half chuckle. The pair sit in silence for moment, with Jenny having jammed herself up against the wall. Surely, this was quite the unusual scenario—one stretches even her fertile imagination.

The subtle grunts from Mandy filled the lingering air.
. "What's her name?" Jenny stammers out softly, her guard slowly easing as the baby girl grabs for Bri's finger.

" Her name is Amanda, Mandy for short." Genevieve shared a smile, " Yes, she surely looks like an Amanda." But Mandy's sudden short, shallow breaths arise suspicion in the young medic. Furrowing her brows, Genevieve musters the courage to say something, until there was movement elsewhere within the house.

There's a shuffle of footsteps, "Ah, you're awake." A pleasant voice speaks, one that held a familiar English accent. Claire shares a peak of happiness; carrying within her hands an assortment of clothes. A man rather bulky and tall followed closely behind Claire, his hair red like the fire and eyes blue like the ocean. Clothed in historical attire just as the others.

His voice was husky and an accent hung low upon the words uttered, " Here you go wee lass." The man slowly offers her a small cup, filled with a unknown liquid. a simple gesture, but her time over there taught her to be uneasy with things.

Genevieve flashes Claire a questioning look, unsure of the contents within. This world was vastly different from the one she inhabited. The clothing was oddly layered, the language was adorned with archaic phrases, and the smell of horses and wood smoke filled the air.

"Oh for crying out loud, It's only tea, if that's what you are worried about." Another man's voice boasted from beyond the room—that voice.. She'd recognized it anywhere, even from the grave. "Roger?" her eyes laid upon the dark haired man, leaning against the wooden frame—with his arms fixed across his chest.

The older man simply nods to her, trying to reassure, "My name is Jamie. I'm Claire's husband." Genevieve's face immediately lights up, she'd always known something was off about her dear friend's birth. There was a striking resemblance between both.

She gives a small smile before taking the cup from his grasp. The smell of sweetened tea invades a worn soul—the scent carrying upon the steam. Once the warmth embraced her body, it signaled this truly was not a dream. "So are we all going to dance around and party. Or is someone going to tell me what is going on?" Genevieve muses, one hand idly twirling the liquid around inside.

"Well, my dear, through some kind of miracle, you have traveled back to 1776. Frankly, there is no easy way to put it." Genevieve gagged on the tea, merely snorting it back out her nose. Of course, Brianna grimaced at the sight, being the closet that is. This was an occurrence beyond logical comprehension, a phenomenon that defied the laws of physics. Genevieve was a medic and was trained in believing non of that superficial stuff existed.

But with all them looking at her like she held three heads, the full realization was gradual. Wiping away the drainage from her nose, the shock of it all wore off—replacing by awe and uncertainty. This was truly happening.. As Claire sits in the another chair beside the cot, she starts on an array of questions, " What is the last that you remember when approaching the stones?"

Genevieve was honestly questioning herself about that. How was this still possible? " Well, There was a buzzing, like bees. There was a hawk there too, guiding me to the stones. But that wasn't the lot of it." She takes a sip of the tea before continuing forth, " There was a soldier, or at least I presumed he was. He was not fitted in a uniform from our era though." The last quote left an uncomfortable feeling to the air.

Claire furrowed, a puzzling expression fixing upon her features, " What do you mean exactly?" " It was as if he was speaking, but I couldn't hear the words only his mannerisms. Like we were connected by some force." Genevieve gestured with her hand as she spoke—practically speaking over Claire.

Brianna and her mother glanced to another, each putting on a perplexed look. This was something different, neither had experienced that before. Jamie glanced between both, sharing an equal perspective—but perhaps slightly more than them.

A young boy no older than 5 rushes pass the older scot towards the unexpecting Genevieve. The boy whom clings to Bri's side for a moment—eyeing the medic. He was quick to squabble over her—eyes watching her every move.

"auntie Jenny." The young lad exclaims rather prideful, glancing to his mother for reassurance. Genevieve seems quite taken aback, having thought Brianna lost faith in her for going to war. After all, both left on not-so-good terms. His antics was a welcome distraction to the distressed Genevieve. "This is Jeremiah. Or Jem." Brianna says, looking down at him with a smile.

"Well, It's certainly nice to meet you young man." Jenny says, offering forth a hand. Jeremiah happily accepts, of which her firm shake merely wiggles his arm up and down. A giggle escapes him, but among this, Mandy calls out a hindered breath—a rattle that the young medic had come to know all too well.

"She's not well, is she?" Genevieve questions in a low tone, flickering her sight from Brianna to Claire. The older English woman nodded, looking to her daughter quite distraught.

Brianna's prominent features twisted into one of grimace as she cuddles the girl closer, " You had only just here and we're leaving." She uttered out, a tear slowly fell down her redden cheek. "What?" Genevieve immediately leans foward, eyes open wide. "you're going back?! Take me with you?" She pleads forth, but Brianna casts a solemn glance to Claire.

"I mean if you'll have me." Genevieve's shoulders slump from her Ill-received enthusiasm. But feisty red head merely flashes Roger a look of concern, " We all need gems to return back. It's not as simple to return as it is to come through."

Jenny's mouth sits slightly a-gap, a dumbfound expression holds taunt upon her face. While Genevieve was initially engulfed by fear and bewilderment, gradually realizing her returning was on obtaining a gem—something analogous to a life jacket worn by passengers aboard a sinking ship. These thoughts troubled Genevieve emotionally, tugging at her fears and anxieties, yet also igniting the soldier within.

"Well, we can try..." Claire spoke, placing a hand upon the cot, "No harm in trying." Roger quickly chimes in, " We'll head to Wilmington and see what we can scrounge up. I'm sure there'll be enough for all of us." Her heart now wavered between the fear of being in an unknown territory all over again.

"Wait, but your training is more advanced than Mama's. You trained with the cardio and ....." Brianna knew she was grasping at straws, at anything really. She didn't want leave but she didn't want her child to die.

Genevieve bite slightly at her lower lip, "But that was on soldiers, Not..' Her tone wavered off into one of despair upon seeing Brianna's sorrow etched in wrinkles across her skin. The soldier merely shooks her head back and forth, Tears form upon her glassy eyes, " No, I can not." She whimpers out— fingers began to convulse at the very thought.

She's quick to place the cup down, grasping her trembling fingers close—trying to hide them. There's the song of silence that finds itself reigning over the medical study. All that was spoken was of the Eyes, ones shrouted of all colors flickered back from another, almost caught ina dance or mere morse code.

Claire takes a long drawn-out inhale tsking her leave, but not before bidding a small farewell, "we shall see you in the morning, Lets have her rest." She pauses momentarily, " we all have a big journey ahead of us."

Brianna let out a tiny sniffle, swallowing the bile that cling to her throat. There would only be one shot at this; at both options. Either have her friend who wasn't ready for this or try to go through the stones. Steady, the young mother arises to her feet with Mandy held close. As she turns to walk away, Brianna founds herself with a wave of guilt.

"I'm sorry,' The red head apologizes from beyond the double doors. Genevieve merely furrowed her darkened brows, " For what?" She acquires, " It is I who should be sorry, I cant even help my friend in her tome of need."

"No it should be me. I treated you with such disrespect before you left. It was wrong of me." Brianna is forthcoming with her plea—the corner of her mouth slightly turned upward. Her heart ached to help, but Jenny knew she was no where near capable of completing such a task. All she had ever done was watch in or merely preform on those in their twenties. But the hope of the baby she had just meant, Mandy surviving....would have to lay in the hands of someone else.

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AUTHOR NOTES
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———Whoop whoop, next chapter is here!! 💅😩
William is in next chapter!!

Who's excited to see Genevieve and William meet ??