Original subtitles

Previously...

My pain, it grows more tedious.

It will be like drifting off into a deep sleep.

Oh, brother.

The prince is a canny, slippery man.

We have thwarted him all we can.

All that plotting. How the bloody hell did we end up here?

The prince will have his battle on Culloden Moor.

It is the promise of history.

Promise me that if the time should come, you will go back through the stones.

I promise.

- Claire? - Frank, I'm back.

I'm carrying another man's child.

- Yes, Roger? - May I go outside to play, Father?

I don't think I've ever heard him call you father.

Children accept the world as it is presented to them.

I want us to be together.

Are you sure about this, Frank?

We will raise this child as our own.

Yours and mine.

♪ Of a lass that is gone

- sync and corrections by Caio - - www.addic7ed.com -

_

Good morning, Mrs. Peel.

Good morning, Steed. The door's open.

Social visit?

That's it. Happened to be passing by, thought I'd drop in.

The coffee's over there.

Not enough flexibility in the wrist.

Weight on the wrong foot.

Friendly advice.

There doesn't appear to be any cream.

The cream... is in the kitchen.

Oh.

You really should get back to your guests.

They keep asking for you.

Thank you all for coming.

It would've meant a great deal to my father.

And if you knew him, you know that he was not one to leave anything to chance,

including the toast for his own wake.

"To Death, the jolly old bouncer now."

"Our glasses let's be clinking. If he hadn't put other out, I trow,

to-night we'd not be drinking."

- The Reverend. - The Reverend.

Your father was such a delightful man.

I'll always remember his sense of humor.

Thank you.

The Reverend helped so many people.

- He'll be sorely missed. - Thank you.

Would you excuse me, uh, for a moment?

Oh, of course.

Roger, so sorry to hear about your loss.

- Thanks very much. - It's nice to see you.

- My condolences. - Thanks very much.

Appreciate it.

- You have my sympathies. - Oh, thank you.

I'll speak to you in a minute.

- Tom, how are you? - Yeah, not bad.

- Good. - Listen, Roger, I'll be here for you.

- I appreciate it. Thank you. - Okay.

Are you Roger Wakefield?

Yes.

Definitely. That's me. Yes.

- I'm afraid I haven't had the pleasure. - Roger.

It is.

Well, I can't believe it.

After all these years.

Uh, I'm sorry,

but do I... do I know you?

Oh, of course, you wouldn't remember me.

Last time I saw you, you were about, oh, seven or eight years old.

I'm Claire Randall. I was an old friend of your father's.

Ah.

Very sorry to hear about his passing.

- Thank you. - I see you've met my daughter.

Actually, no, we haven't been formally introduced.

Brianna.

The daughter.

A pleasure, Miss Randall.

We were staying with relatives down in London when we heard.

His heart, I believe?

Yes, yes, uh... very sudden.

I'd just seen him at Christmas, and he was in high spirits.

I hadn't seen your father in a very long time, but I... I was very fond of him.

- So was Daddy. - Oh, yes, of course.

Uh, my late husband, Frank... they were very close.

Randall.

Frank Randall, of course. I remember you now, yes.

Claire. You... you're a nurse, as I recall.

Oh, yes, I was. I... I'm a doctor now.

She's being modest. She's a surgeon.

Hm.

Uh, Bree and I are... are visiting from the States.

Oh, I thought I detected an American accent.

- Boston, to be exact. - She's a history major in Harvard.

Really? I'm on leave from the history department at Oxford.

Oxford. Impressive.

Is Mrs. Graham still in the Reverend's employ?

I haven't seen her yet.

Sadly, we lost her a few years ago,

but her granddaughter Fiona is here somewhere.

So many things are the same, and yet things are so different.

There are quite a lot of memories here.

Would you excuse me?

- I'd like to take a look around. - Yeah.

- Uh, first time in Scotland, then? - Uh-huh.

And will you have much time to take in the sights while you're here?

We only came up for the day so Mother could pay her respects.

We're meant to be headed back to London this evening.

Oh, that's a shame. Beautiful, wild country.

I was always curious about Scotland.

It was a special place to both my parents.

Roger?

I beg your pardon, but it's time to say good-bye.

The Browns are leaving.

Oh, yes, of course. Thank you, Fiona.

Uh... you'll excuse me for a moment?

Yeah.

Mrs. Graham had warned me not to spend my days chasing a ghost,

and so I hadn't.

But now that I was here, the ghosts were starting to chase me.

Thanks again.

Thank you. Arthur, love to your wife.

Hey, sorry she couldn't come along.

Well, we should be going.

Not all the way back to London?

Oh, no, we'll drive as far as we can and then stop at a pub for the night.

There's plenty of room here if you'd like to stay.

Oh, we couldn't possibly impose.

You wouldn't be.

In fact, I'd welcome the company.

It's a big house.

Sounds better than jolting down the wrong side of the road

in the dark.

Besides, it'll give me a chance to take in the sights.

I hear it's a beautiful, wild country.

All right.

- Uh, just so long as we're no bother. - I'll fetch your bags from the car.

- The guest room's just... - Top of the stairs.

I remember.

I couldn't sleep, so I helped myself to a dram.

I hope you don't mind.

Oh, no bother.

I'll have one with you.

Ah.

That's better.

You know, I pestered him for years to throw things away

and clean up the clutter.

Now I can't bear to part with any of it.

There's a lot of history here.

Mm-hmm.

Not just the family's, either,

but Scotland's as well.

The college here in Inverness have asked me

to donate his library to their archives.

I'm not sure I'll donate everything.

He was quite fond of several rare editions

of Prince Charles Stuart and the Battle of Culloden.

Culloden.

Mm.

Final battle of the '45.

My ancestors fought and died there, actually.

Really?

Yes, my true name's Roger MacKenzie.

My parents were Jerry and Marjorie MacKenzie.

The Reverend adopted me

after they were killed in World War II.

MacKenzie.

I used to know quite a few MacKenzies...

once upon a time.

It's a common name here.

May I ask you something personal?

How did you do it?

Finally say good-bye...

to that one person you loved most in all the world?

Truth is, I've never been very good at saying good-bye,

but that's the hell of it, isn't it?

Whether you want to say good-bye or not,

they're gone, and...

you have to go on living without them.

Because that's what they would want.

Thank you for the whisky.

Good night, Roger.

God, you are so like him.

I tell you, the... the army is not ready

for battle this day.

We must retreat to safer ground

before the British realize their advantage

and destroy us all.

You are my Thomas.

It was the Apostle Thomas who doubted

the Lord who had risen from the dead...

Not until he felt the wounds,

pressed his fingers where the nails had been.

The Lord said to him,

"Because you have seen, you believe,

"but blessed are those who have not seen

and yet believe."

But today is the day, James.

And mark me, before this day is over,

I will make a believer of you.

It's a blessing...

Colum didn't live to see this dark day.

It's the prince.

The Battle of Culloden will happen today,

just as history foretold.

Sentries have spotted the advance guard

four miles out.

Cumberland has broken camp.

His army is marching on the south side

of Kildrummie Moss.

Go inside.

Inform Lord George.

There's only one thing left.

One possibility.

What's that?

Not here.

Fort William.

Built in the 1600s.

The Gaelic name for it is An Gearastan Dubh,

"The Black Garrison."

It was used by the British as a command post and prison,

intended to control the "savage clans

and the roving barbarians."

Military history isn't really my specialty.

It was your father's, though, right?

The Reverend has a couple of his books in the library.

One of my earliest memories is dropping an ice cream cone

off the ramparts of Fort Ticonderoga,

while he held forth on the heroics of Ethan Allen

and the Green Mountain Boys.

Ethan Allen?

"I regret I have but one life to give... "

Nathan Hale.

Common mistake.

Never quote American history to an American.

The Revolutionary War

is practically a religious text in Boston.

With George Washington as the Messiah

and, uh, Benedict Arnold as Judas, no doubt.

Benedict Arnold is a deeply misunderstood historical figure.

I thought you didn't like military history.

We Randalls are a verra complicated clan, laddie.

That is absolutely

the worst accent I have ever heard.

Do you remember my father very well?

Bits and pieces.

He was a snappy dresser.

Wore his hat down over one eye, very dashing,

and, um...

seemed very kind.

He was.

The kindest man in the world.

Your mother seems very kind as well.

My mother...

lives in another world.

This place gives me the chills.

With good reason.

Many Scottish prisoners were flogged here.

A lot of blood was spilled on this ground.

My father built this place, ye ken.

His blood and sweat are in this stone.

Are you playing with the apples?

What's your name?

This is my wee Jamie.

This is your uncle, mo chridhe,

the one you're named after.

Congratulations,

your bonny little lass...

Little Margaret Ellen Murray.

'Twas my grandmother's name.

Claire, Claire, they're ready.

- They're giant. - Oh, my goodness.

You were right, telling us to plant them.

I'm beginning to feel like...

I actually belong here.

I knew ye belonged here with me,

since the first time I laid eyes on ye.

"Come and let us live, my Dear.

Let us love and never fear."

"Then let amorous kisses dwell,

"on our lips, begin and tell

"a Thousand and a Hundred score,

a Hundred and a Thousand more."

This battle, this war...

everything that's about to happen...

it all depends on Charles.

Aye.

And what if he were to die...

now?

Right now.

Then the battle wouldn't happen,

and this whole bloody rebellion would die with him.

Christ.

I have this.

It's yellow jasmine, and it's poisonous.

It's what Colum took last night.

Colum?

He begged me.

He knew that his time was near.

He took his own life?

Claire, that's a mortal sin.

He wanted a quick and peaceful death,

and I gave it to him.

Charles has been suffering with scurvy for weeks,

and I've been treating him regularly with tinctures.

I could put this in a tea.

Kill Charles Stuart?

The way it works...

it would be like drifting into a deep sleep.

And he would never know?

No one would ever know.

Do you have any memory of an incident that happened

with my parents when they were here?

How do you mean, "incident"?

Something big that happened between them

when they were here staying with your father.

I was just a wee lad.

I don't remember all the details, but...

I do recall finding Mrs. Graham crying

out in the tool shed.

There were a lot of broken things lying about,

and I think she said your father had lost his temper

and smashed everything up.

My father smashed...

Yes, but that wasn't the reason

why she was crying,

I'm certain of that.

My father definitely had a temper,

but he kept it tightly under wraps.

When did this happen?

What year?

Your mother said I was seven or eight

when she last saw me, so it must have been...

1947 or '48.

My father kept this...

lockbox on the top shelf of his closet.

I knew where he hid the key,

so one day,

I opened it.

There were letters in there from your father.

Mostly academic stuff, but...

there was this one letter.

The Reverend mentioned an incident

involving my mother and my father,

and the way he phrased it

made me feel like it was something big,

maybe something terrible.

Definitely something he didn't want

to spell out on paper.

It scared me for some reason.

I put the letter back in the box, locked it,

and never looked at it again.

My father kept a journal.

He wrote in it every night after supper.

There's boxes of them in the storage room,

if you wouldn't mind getting a bit grubby.

Grubby doesn't bother me.

You should see my bedroom.

That didn't come out right.

No, no, but I... I, uh,

I get your meaning.

So I've traced the chain of title

for the estate known as Lallybroch or Broch Tuarach

and found this.

It's the earliest document we have in our files,

a deed of sasine, transferring title to the property

from James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser

to James Jacob Fraser Murray.

The property was transferred in 1745, witnessed

by Murtagh Fitzgibbons Fraser

and Claire Beauchamp...

well, it's a bit smudged, but I think

her surname's Fraser as well.

Yes...

I believe it was.

And, uh, after that?

Various Murrays, it seems.

The property stayed in that family

for many generations.

I've, uh, made you a copy,

so this one is yours to keep.

Thank you.

One last thing.

Is it possible to do a genealogical search?

Aye, what's the name?

Roger MacKenzie.

How was your date?

It wasn't a date.

Well, you have to admit

he is rather handsome and intelligent.

Not to mention, he has a lovely physique.

Who says "physique"?

Stop.

Of course, there are those deep blue eyes.

Maybe you should date him.

Hmm.

So where did you end up going?

Fort William.

Have you been?

Once.

Didn't much care for the place.

So what did you do today?

I just puttered around the village.

Places you and Daddy went before?

Some.

Do you miss him?

Of course.

Sometimes it doesn't seem like you do,

or...

you ever loved him.

What a thing to say.

Well, did you?

Love him?

I did.

Make no mistake, this would be

cold-blooded murder

you would be carrying out.

To stop a slaughter.

If we kill the prince, we take one life

to save thousands.

Jamie.

Lord George requests yer presence near the east dyke.

Ye've to come at once.

They're calling the men to form lines.

Aye, on my way.

We would need to move quickly.

I could put this in his tea now and give it to him.

Ye ungrateful son-of-a-bastard.

You filthy, whoring witch.

I'm meeting the curator on the second floor.

I shouldn't be long, then we, uh,

can go start the great excavation

of the Reverend's journals. Will you be okay?

- Yeah, sure, I'll hang out. - Okay.

And we can no longer allow

their vision to dictate ours.

When Scotland was united with England

under a single crown,

it was the beginning of the end for us.

We lost more than our independence.

We lost our spirit.

The government in Westminster,

the bankers in the city,

the newspapers of Fleet Street

have stolen our money.

Our voices...

our futures.

Where are the rulers of old

who knew how to look after their people?

The kings who have become legendary...

Arthur of Wales,

Richard the Lionheart,

Prince Charles Edward Stuart...

Our Bonnie Prince?

We've all heard of the Battle of Culloden...

But imagine how different

Scotland would be now

if we had won.

Where is our Bonnie Prince Charlie today?

I am...

Bonnie Prince Charlie.

crowd: Yes.

You are Bonnie Prince Charlie.

crowd: Yes.

We are Bonnie Prince Charlie.

Aye. Scotland!

- Thank you so much. - Thank you.

Cheers, and take that.

Yes, thanks.

I liked your speech,

but wasn't it the Scottish king James VI

who united the crowns?

And Queen Anne, his Scottish granddaughter,

who signed the Acts of Union?

Aye,

but Anne was raised Anglican,

already under the influence of Westminster.

Prince Charles and his father King James

wanted to undo all that.

Sounds like they would've been just

trading one king for another.

Charles was Catholic and a Scot.

Unlike German Geordie and the Hanovers,

his loyalty was to us.

Maybe.

You're an American.

Are you a student here?

Brianna Randall.

Just visiting.

So why are you here?

I'm a history student.

I like watching history being made.

There you are.

Roger Wakefield.

Gillian Edgars.

There's another big rally later, near here.

We'll be making history.

Cheers.

Tall fellow, wasn't he?

Wasn't that tall in real life.

He could have been great.

He had the name, the cause,

the support of good men

willing to lay down their lives for him.

They've taken a fool,

turned him into a hero.

And what's that thing inside there?

Hmm, not sure.

Looks like a dragonfly, maybe?

Dougal. It's not what ye think, man.

No?

Not what I think?

What, that, uh,

that woman was urging ye to foul murder,

the murder of your prince.

- No. - Dougal, you have to listen...

Shut your mouth.

I kent you were a traitor

the first time I clapped eyes on ye.

Easy now.

Ye see, Jamie...

ye place yer trust in someone, ye know?

And ye... ye give into them...

ye give into them with your heart and your soul,

and for you to then plan the murder

of our beloved prince...

- No, Dougal... - Christ.

Christ.

I'd rather be hung, drawn, and quartered.

I would.

Oh, Jamie.

Ye've just... ye've betrayed us, you know?

Ye have. All of us.

Your people.

And worse than that,

ye've betrayed Scotland herself.

No.

And you. You're nothing

but a lying slut,

who would lead a man by the cock to his doom,

with your claws sunk deep into his balls.

Claire is my wife.

Ye'll no speak ill of her, even in your anger.

Anger?

Anger?

Oh, no.

What ye've done to me...

we're past anger.

You're tired, Dougal.

Cold and hungry.

Leave now.

No!

Claire.

Jamie, come to me

and I'll kill you quick for your mother's sake.

Dougal, we can talk this through.

Just stay down.

Just stay.

I'm so sorry, Uncle.

How long since anyone's been in this place?

Ages, I expect.

Are these his journals?

Aye.

Aye, if there's anything here about what happened

back in 1948,

we should be able to find it.

What was that?

Probably a rat.

Here, use that.

At least you won't be taken by surprise.

Too late for that.

Would you rather I did a rat satire?

A what?

A rat satire.

An old Scottish custom.

If you had rats in your house,

you could make them go away by singing to them

and telling them how poor the eating was

where they were and how good it was elsewhere.

You're kidding, right?

Dinna stay and gnaw my wellies.

You just made that up.

Obviously.

Any good rat satire must always be...

original.

Wow, after that performance,

there shouldn't be a rat within miles of this place.

Randall.

Now there's an heirloom for you.

A letter of commission in the army,

signed by His Royal Majesty,

King George II.

Dated 1735.

"Jonathan Wolverton Randall."

I remember Daddy talking about him.

He's one of our ancestors.

Here's a letter from your father.

The Reverend was doing research on the Captain...

and my father told him to abandon the project.

"He's not the man I thought."

Odd.

Then let's take these boxes into the library.

Oh, God.

Oh, Christ.

Rupert.

I'd have torn out my one good eye,

if it could have stopped me seeing this.

But seen it I have.

Aye, ye have.

Wait.

There's one service I ask of you.

Give me two hours.

There are some things I need to tend to.

Ye understand?

And then?

And then I'll come back and answer for what I have done.

I give ye my word.

Two hours.

Grant me that,

before ye speak.

For the memory of the friendship

that I once had for you,

which you have now murdered

as certainly as you did my chieftain...

I'll give ye two hours,

and then I'll damn your soul to the fiery pit.

You can see how flat and open and boggy it is.

The Highland army was completely exposed,

and they then charged into the teeth of musket fire,

cannons, mortars.

And it was very, very quick

and very bloody.

In effect,

Culloden marked the end of the clans

and the end of the Highlander way of life.

Are you a Fraser?

Yes.

I am.

I swore I'd never set foot

on this horrid place,

but here I am...

and you're here too.

Or your bones, at least.

I'm not going to cry...

Because you wouldn't want that,

and besides...

I've come with good news.

You have a daughter, Brianna.

Named after your father,

just as I promised.

Jamie, I...

was angry at you...

for such a long time.

You made me go and live a life that...

I didn't want to live.

But you were right,

damn you.

Brianna was safe...

and loved...

and raised well.

But sometimes,

oh, when she turns and the light

catches her red hair or...

I see her smile in her sleep...

It takes my breath away...

Because I see you.

She was born...

7:15

on a rainy Boston morning.

And that's everything.

Everything I can remember.

See? No tears.

Bet you didn't think I could do that, did you?

That day at Craigh na Dun...

We said a lot of things,

but there was one thing I didn't say.

Couldn't.

I haven't for...

20 years.

But I'm here,

and now it's time.

Good-bye, Jamie Fraser.

My love.

Rest easy, soldier.

"Kidnapped by the Fairies"?

"Claire Randall,

"wife of noted historian Frank Randall...

"Holiday in Inverness. Car found.

Police thought she was possibly murdered."

Well, obviously not. She turned up.

Three years later.

"Mysteriously found wandering,

dressed in rags, disoriented, incoherent."

I think we've found your "incident."

What about the Reverend's journal?

Maybe he says more about this.

Are you sure you want to do this?

You may not like what you find.

I want the truth.

No matter what.

Oh, there you are.

Would you like some tea?

What I'd like is to know

exactly what you've been doing the past two days.

As I told you, I've just been...

Puttering around town, collecting herbs.

Is that all?

What's going on, Bree?

Did you see him?

Who?

My father.

Did you see my father?

What kind of question is that to ask?

Not Daddy.

No, he's dead. I know that.

I'm talking about my father,

the man you had an affair with.

The man you were with for three years.

Bree.

It's complicated.

No, it's pretty simple, actually.

Newspapers say your "miraculous return"

was in April 1948.

I was born in November '48.

I did the math, and it turns out

you were three months pregnant

when the fairies brought you back to Daddy.

Bree...

I found something else in the Reverend's correspondence.

Not sure what it means, but...

Oh.

I'm sorry. I should let you...

No, stay.

It's your house,

and you haven't lied to anyone.

I think we should talk alone.

He's my friend, and he stays.

All right.

But I think you should sit down.

Yes.

There was a... another man.

And I loved him very much.

And yes...

he was your real father.

You lied.

All my life, you've lied to me.

Frank didn't want you to know.

Don't you dare blame this on him.

He wanted to raise you as his own,

and I agreed.

It's why we moved to America.

So we could put all this behind us.

Until you found an excuse to visit Scotland?

Is that really why we're here?

So I could have some kind of

surprise introduction to my real father?

No.

It's not possible, anyway.

Because he has no interest in meeting his daughter?

Because he's dead.

I promised Frank I wouldn't tell you about him,

so for 20 years, I...

I haven't uttered his name out loud.

But now you know,

and I need to tell you about him.

About your real father...

Jamie Fraser.

I don't want to know anything about him.

Not one single thing.

Bree. Brianna.

You told me you just wanted the truth, no matter what.

This is it.

Most important...

Jamie loved you

very much.

Even though he never met you,

he loved you with all his heart.

And he would have raised you...

Well, if it wasn't...

If it wasn't...

for the Battle of Culloden.

I've killed Dougal MacKenzie.

Huh.

Canna say I'm that surprised,

only that it took ye so long.

What's to do, then?

What is it?

A deed of sasine.

It conveys the title of Lallybroch

to James Jacob Fraser Murray.

Giving the place over to your nephew.

Aye.

This protects Lallybroch

and keeps the estate in the family,

safe from the Crown,

to be held in trust by Jenny and Ian

until Wee Jamie is old enough.

But it's dated from a year ago.

Aye, before the rebellion, before...

I was a traitor.

I just need the signature of two witnesses.

Go fetch your master ink and a quill, lad.

Quick about it. Go.

Will ye have me take it to Jenny?

No, I'll have Fergus take it.

- Me, milord? - Aye.

Aye, you're to ride to Lallybroch.

Ye'll leave now.

This must reach Madame Murray without fail.

It is worth more than my life or yours.

I don't want to leave you, milord.

- I refuse. - Ye must.

Not just for the deed, but no matter what happens

here today, it's important someone remembers.

You understand?

I will not fail you, milord.

I know ye won't.

So how long have you been

cooking up this story?

No, I... I know this must sound crazy, but...

Did you really think I would swallow this...

fairy tale?

Do you think I'm still five years old?

It is not a fairy tale, Bree.

The man I grew up with, who loved me for 20 years,

isn't my father.

My real father

is some 6'3" redheaded guy in a kilt

from the 18th century? What is wrong with you?

Listen to me. Frank was your father

in every way that matters

except one.

He didn't make you.

Jamie and I did.

You're just like him.

Your hair, your mannerisms.

Oh, he would have loved you and raised you if...

If it hadn't been for the Battle of Culloden?

Oh, my God, stop.

It's true.

Here.

Look at this.

Here.

The deed to Lallybroch.

Claire Beauchamp Fraser.

It... it's my maiden name, my signature.

Just admit it!

Admit that you are not a perfect person.

Own up to the fact that you fucked someone else

while you were married to Daddy,

just like a million other bored housewives.

I was not bored, and what Jamie and I had

was a hell of a lot more than fucking.

He was the love of my life!

Why are you doing this?

Bree, I...

I'm doing this

because it's the truth.

Only two people know what the truth really is,

and one of them is dead.

Too bad it wasn't you.

You stop for nothing, except to sleep.

And if you do, hide yourself well.

You're a soldier now,

mon fils.

I love you like a son.

Like our own son.

That doesn't mean anything.

I don't know what it means, to be honest,

but the Reverend obviously thought it meant something.

She's insane.

That's all that matters.

Now, don't lash out at me,

but that deed of sasine did look authentic.

So some woman back in 17-whatever

had the same name as she does,

or she read about someone

and is fantasizing it was her own life.

Or what if there's...

something to her story?

Keep that up and I might just lash out at you after all.

Now, look, you told me

that you could never get close to your mother,

that she lived in another world.

Well, maybe she's trying to show you that world.

So you believe she traveled

200 years into the past?

Through a stone?

It's not important if I believe it.

She believes it.

I'm just saying,

maybe we should keep an open mind.

How 'bout we keep an open tab instead?

There were ghosts around me everywhere

since I'd arrived.

The face was unmistakable:

Geillis Duncan.

I remembered the date she'd told me at the trial,

the year she came through the stones.

1968.

This was no ghost.

Geillis was here...

a younger version of her...

but she was here.

Hello, uh...

I'm looking for Gillian Edgars.

Is this her residence?

Aye.

And what is it you want with her?

Well, I'm an old friend of Gillian's,

Claire Randall.

You must be...

Greg.

Her husband.

I'm not going to be in the area long.

Do you know where she might be?

I'd love to say hello.

Aye.

She will likely be with the Roses, but I...

I've no kept up.

Slà inte.

The Roses?

The White Roses of Scotland?

Aye.

Aye, bloody Nationalists.

She spends all her time

down the Institute, day and night,

spendin' all my money on courses.

Folklore, they call it.

She filled up a million notebooks with her findings.

Why not just learn to type?

Get a job if she's bored...

that's what I told her.

So she left.

It's been weeks now.

So you say she's been gone for weeks?

Aye.

That's what I said.

Like...

if ye do see Gilly,

tell her to come home, eh?

Tell her I love her.

Of course.

Honestly, this pub's been here since 1820, and...

Gillian, hi.

You missed a great rally earlier.

I'm sorry we missed it.

Roger and I are just having a whisky.

Aye. It's been a bit of a tricky day.

My mother's insane.

Mm.

A sentiment echoed

by daughters everywhere.

Maybe I'll catch you again at the next rally.

Afraid I'm leaving tonight to...

further the cause.

But don't stop asking the hard questions.

That's the way the world changes.

For hours I read Geillis' notebooks.

I tried to make sense of the convoluted pages.

They contained formulas about the art and science

of time travel.

Unlike myself, Geillis had studied

and prepared for her journey.

I was stunned to learn she believed

you must have a human sacrifice

to move through the stones,

and gemstones to protect and guide you.

From what I could tell,

Geillis planned to pass through Craigh na Dun,

and soon.

Sadly, I knew how that trip would end:

with Geillis burned on a pyre in Cranesmuir.

I had to try and stop her.

Gather the Frasers of Lallybroch together

and get them out of here.

There'll be pell-mell on the moor,

wi' troops and horses moving to and fro.

Nobody will try and stop you wi' the British in sight

and the battle about to begin.

Tell them the order comes from me,

and they'll follow without question.

Lead them off the moor and away from the battle.

Set them on the road to Lallybroch

and home.

Are ye sure?

Aye.

This battle is already lost.

No matter how righteous,

it was doomed from the start.

We've done all we could,

but now it's over.

I'll not have my kin die for nothing.

And what are you to do?

I'll take Claire to safety.

Then I'll turn back...

back to Culloden,

and fight till it's done.

I'll guide yer men to safety

and set them on the path home.

But ken this:

when ye return,

I'll be waiting here to fight by yer side.

No.

No, I said I'll not have ye dying for nothing.

I won't be.

I'll be dying with you.

I don't want to argue.

Let's just agree

that I have a father who...

isn't Daddy.

I don't want to discuss

your whole time travel delusion,

but I do want to know more about this...

Jamie Fraser.

Tell me about him.

Of course.

All right.

Uh, he was tall

and had red hair just like yours.

His father's name was Brian,

and that's where your name came from.

He spoke French, and he loved to play chess.

Uh, he had a sister, Jenny, who's your aunt...

It would take too long

to tell you everything about him.

But I promise I will.

Today, I visited his grave on Culloden Moor

and was telling him all about you...

This is the part where you lose me.

I didn't intend to fall in love.

In fact, I... I fought against it.

But I couldn't deny what I felt for him.

And I tried...

but I couldn't.

It was the most powerful thing that I've...

ever felt in my life.

How is she?

Well, we're talking, at least.

A fair improvement on shouting.

Well, do... do you know Gillian Edgars?

Not really.

I know she gave Brianna that after...

Brianna's actually met her?

Yeah.

Gillian's great.

I mean, she's a little crazy on the whole

Scottish nationalist thing, but I liked her.

Do you know where she is now?

No. Why?

Are you sure?

I need to find her. It's important.

We... we just ran into her at the pub.

Um, she said she was leaving town tonight.

Something about going somewhere to "further the cause."

Didn't sound like she would be back.

She's going through the stones.

We're not talking about this again.

Gillian Edgars is Geillis Duncan from the witch trial.

This is her.

She is the one who saved my life,

and if I can stop her going through the stones,

then perhaps I can do the same for her.

Except I can't.

Why not?

Because of you.

Me?

When you told me that you were a MacKenzie...

oh, I looked up your family history.

Your seven-times great grandparents

were William and Sara MacKenzie.

They couldn't have children, so they were given one

to raise as their own.

That child belonged to Dougal MacKenzie

and Geillis Duncan.

So you're saying that my ancestors

are actually the war chief that you spoke of

and the witch?

Don't drag Roger into this.

He has the same right as you to know who he is.

If all this is true, then we have to stop her, don't we?

If she's going back to be burned alive.

You're kidding me.

But what if she never goes back,

never meets Dougal MacKenzie,

never has their child?

What if you're never born?

How I can not be born? I'm here.

I can't just evaporate.

I don't know how this all works.

Roger, you're not buying this, are you?

I don't know...

but just to be on the safe side,

I say we find her. Warn her, at least.

Yes, I... I could warn her

not to draw attention to herself in the past.

Do you see what's happening here?

Roger, you are feeding her delusions.

Brianna.

Maybe I am.

But this could be our chance to make her actually face it.

Face what?

Gillian.

See what Gillian says about all this.

And what if Gillian is as crazy as she is?

What if she really thinks that you can travel

through solid stone to the past?

Well, then maybe we all get to watch her

slam her head into a five-ton block of granite.

Either way, this gives us a chance

to put a stop to it all.

- Okay. - I'll get my keys.

Where are we going?

Red Jamie won't get far, but... but you.

I can save you, and I will.

Well, we can leave together. Now.

We could sail somewhere, anywhere.

The country is roused.

The ports are closed.

I'm no afraid to die, Sassenach.

A musket ball, maybe a blade.

It's better than the hangman's noose

or the wrath of the MacKenzies.

I'm a dead man already,

so I choose the battlefield.

No. Then I will stay here with you.

No, no, you won't.

At the witch trial,

if I'd have gone to the stake with Geillis,

would you have left me?

Left you?

I would have gone to the stake with you,

to hell and beyond, if it had gone to that,

but I wasn't carrying your child.

You can't know that.

It's much too soon. It...

Oh, Sassenach, you have not been a day late in your courses in...

in all the time since ye first took me to yer bed,

but it's been two months now.

You kept track?

In the middle of this bloody war,

- you kept track? - Aye.

How long have you known?

Not long.

This child...

this one is all

that will be left of me...

ever.

But now, we must go,

so I beg you, Claire...

No, no, I can't leave you.

You heard me give my word to Rupert,

and you made me a promise

to spare Randall's life.

You... you promised me that if it came to this,

ye'd go back through the stones, back home.

But you are my home.

And you are mine,

but this home is lost.

And now you and the bairn...

you must go to a safe place.

To a man...

A man that could care for you both.

No.

- No, I... - Claire.

Claire, there's no time.

That's her husband's car.

It's this way.

Come on.

What is that smell?

It smells like a fuckin' barbecue.

Geillis, no!

Where did she go?

Oh, my God, she... she went through the stone.

She went right through it.

Can you hear that?

That buzzing?

Aye.

It's getting louder.

Oh, my God.

Roger, go get help.

How will I explain all this?

How can I go back?

To Frank.

All that I leave to you.

Tell him what you will about me...

About us.

It's likely he'll no want to hear,

but if he does...

Tell him I'm grateful.

And tell him I trust him,

and tell him I hate him to the very marrow of his bones.

The buzzing.

It's so loud.

I'm not ready, Jamie. I'm not ready.

Come with me.

Come with me through the stones.

Na, I can't.

You could try.

You hear it, right?

The buzzing?

I don't hear anything, Claire.

Even if I could...

go back through the stones...

It's not my place.

My destiny lies on Culloden Moor.

But I'll find you.

I promise.

If I have to endure 200 years of purgatory...

200 years without you,

then that is my punishment

that I have earned for my crimes,

for I have lied, killed, stolen,

betrayed...

And broken trust.

But when I stand before God,

I'll have one thing to say

to weigh against all the rest.

Lord...

you gave me a rare woman...

And God, I loved her well.

It has begun.

Our wedding gift

from Hugh Munro.

You keep it with you.

Blood of my blood.

And bone of my bone.

As long as we both shall live.

Come on.

This...

belonged to my father.

Give it to the bairn,

when he's old enough.

I will name him Brian,

after your father.

I love you.

I love you.

And I you.

Good-bye, Claire.

It's true, then.

Everything you said is true.

Yes.

Was that her husband?

I think so.

And so someone has to die to travel through the stones.

I mean, is that how it works?

Geillis believed that she needed a human sacrifice,

but no one died when I went through.

Wait.

Is this the last place you saw my father?

Yes.

I believe you.

I don't understand it, but...

I believe you.

No more lies.

From now on, I only want the truth

between you and me.

All right?

Oh, you're so like your father.

Yes.

Only the truth from now on.

I've called the police,

anonymously, of course,

and God knows how long it'll be before they get here.

Roger.

Tell her what you found.

Some research the Reverend did

at the request of your husband...

your husband Frank.

I'm not certain if he ever sent it on to Boston.

Well, what does it say?

After the battle at Culloden,

a few Jacobite soldiers, all seriously wounded,

took refuge in an old house...

for two days,

then they were all taken out to be shot,

but one of them,

a Fraser of the Master of Lovat's regiment,

escaped execution.

There were a lot of Frasers on the field that day.

But... only five Fraser officers,

and four of them have their names memorialized

on a plaque in the church in Beauly, so...

we know for certain that they were killed.

Who was the fifth?

James Fraser.

My father.

Jamie.

He didn't die at Culloden?

Well, he meant to die, but...

He didn't.

He survived.

He...

he survived.

If that's true, then...

I have to go back.

- sync and corrections by Caio - - www.addic7ed.com -