Outlander

Previously...

Stop!

Make me a better offer.

Let her go in safety and you can have me.

I know how we can save young Jamie.

Easy, lad.

If I don't set that hand, he'll be crippled for life.

What happened in that room between you and Randall?

He made love to me.

You did what was necessary to survive. That's all.

It's time we made plans.

Ye'll have to flee the country.

Murtagh's gone to find the boat for France.

Goodbye to you, Claire. God bless.

But you know what's going to happen in Scotland.

Well, what can we do but play our part?

What if we could stop it from happening?

Change the future?

There's something else. I'm pregnant.

I wished I were dead.

And if I'd kept my eyes shut,

I could have almost touched the edges of oblivion.

But I'd made a promise and had to keep it.

Even if it meant living a life I no longer wanted.

He was gone.

They were all gone.

The world I'd left only moments ago was now dust.

You all right, ma'am?

Are you all right?

Ma'am?

Do you speak English?

What year is it?

The year?

What year is this?

Why, it's 1948.

Who won?

Who won the Battle of Culloden?

Do you not feel well?

- Perhaps I could take you... - Tell me!

Tell me who won the Battle of Culloden, tell me now!

The British! Cumberland and the British!

Would you let me go?

- Excuse me, nurse? - Yes?

My name is Randall, Frank Randall.

- I received a call from a Dr. Edwards? - Yes, sir.

One moment please, Mr. Randall.

Thank you.

He's here.

Mr. Randall.

I'm Dr. Edwards.

- Where is she? - She's resting comfortably.

Some dehydration, and superficial cuts and bruises notwithstanding,

she appears to be in good health.

Right.

Emotionally, she's...

Well, she's better now, I should think.

We gave her a sedative last night, and today she's much calmer.

Can you turn that bloody thing off, please?

So noisy here.

Claire?

Frank.

Hello.

I'm back.

And I am so grateful.

- Are you? - Of course.

With all my heart.

I'm sorry...

No.

- It's not you. - Mrs. Randall?

Hey!

What are you doing? Get out of here!

Easy now, I'm just doing my job. Now watch the camera!

Claire.

I've spoken with Reverend Wakefield,

and he's prepared some rooms for us while you convalesce.

No one will bother us there.

Do you know if Mrs. Graham is still in his employ?

Mrs. Graham?

I didn't ask, but I would assume so.

I need to speak with her.

I'm going to need some clothes.

Has she said anything?

No, only pleasantries.

I've received an answer from my friend, Professor Atkins.

"Examined the clothing you sent, appears to be a marvelous example"

"of authentic 18th century Scottish woman's wardrobe."

"Incredibly valuable. Where did you find?"

That's a good question.

What are you gonna tell him?

What can I tell him?

This is not the sort of outfit she could've

just walked into a shop and purchased, is it?

No.

No, sir.

It's puzzling, that.

She's nearly exhausted my collection on Culloden and the Jacobite rebellion.

Why the sudden obsession with Scottish history?

I have no idea.

She never showed much interest when she was with...

Before.

So many questions.

She's been back nearly a week. Don't you think it's time she gave you some answers?

I believe she will, when she's ready.

Well, my sermon is not going to write itself.

You know, you're not the only one with questions.

Devil take the press.

That's not likely.

Even the devil has standards.

There has to be a fuller account of the Highlander losses somewhere.

Well, I must say, the Reverend has the finest collection in Scotland.

Even the curator of Old Leanach Cottage himself

has been known to borrow books from our collection.

Must they do that every day?

People are saying there might be a war with Russia soon.

Stalin's trying to block access to West Berlin...

There's always another fucking war!

I'm so sorry.

You know, he didn't even know what that word meant.

I actually called him "a fucking sadist" once,

and he'd no idea what I was talking about.

We had a good laugh about it afterwards.

You know, whenever you talk about him,

you nearly always mention his fine sense of humor.

Do I?

Aye.

And his smile...

And his hair.

It really is the most...

Was.

It really was the most extraordinary mop of red you'd ever seen.

- It's... - You don't have to say it.

I know he's dead.

Dead and buried and

moldering in the ground for the past two centuries.

I just want to know...

I just need to know if he really did

die on that battlefield.

He told you he would stand and die with his men on that bloody moor.

Do you have any reason to doubt his word?

No.

You have had an extraordinary adventure, Claire.

Extraordinary.

One that few people could even imagine.

Treasure it.

Keep it safe and secure,

tucked away in some special place in your heart.

But...

Don't spend the rest of your days chasing a ghost.

Not when there's a man,

a real flesh and blood living man,

who loves you still with all his heart.

Frank?

Claire.

Would you care to come in?

I thought we could talk.

This reminds me of that night at Mrs. Baird's.

Sitting by the fire,

drinking good Scottish whisky.

More candles, as I recall.

The power had gone out.

You remember.

Of course. It was our last night together.

Yes.

Frank, I want to tell you what happened to me after...

You... You don't have to.

I want you to know that.

Whatever happened, wherever you've been.

What really matters to me is that you're back.

I don't really care about anything else.

So let me tell it at my own pace.

Save any questions you have until the end.

Remember I went back to Craigh na Dun that day

to look for a flower that I'd seen near the stones.

I know how it must sound.

That I've gone mad.

It's quite the leap of faith.

But...

It is one that I am prepared to make as well.

Don't patronize me, Frank.

It's insane, I know that.

It sounds like a fantasy made of magic and fairy dust.

Are you trying to argue me out of believing you?

I'm trying to get you to admit

that even as you stand there trying to be supportive and understanding,

that rational, academic brain of yours is screaming out that your ex-wife

has either lost her mind or has fabricated some wild tale

to drive you away!

"Ex-wife"?

I married another man.

And yet, you are still wearing our wedding ring.

Claire, I admit,

it is hard to reconcile what you are saying with anything resembling logic,

or even natural law.

But, Claire, I think we are beyond that.

Truly, all that matters is that you're back.

You're back.

Frank...

I was with another man for two years. And I loved him, deeply, as his wife.

A point you have made several times, I do understand, Claire.

But I don't think you understand my perspective,