Original subtitles

Previously...

- Aah! 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.

Hyah!

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.

He'll have to flee the country.

Murtagh's gone to find the boat for France.

Good-bye to you, Claire.

God bless.

How do 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.

Ahh!

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.

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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?

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

Excuse me.

- 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.

Ah, Mr. Randall.

I'm Dr. Edwards.

Where is she?

Oh, she's resting comfortably.

Some dehydration,

and superficial cuts and bruises notwithstanding,

ah, she appears to be in good health.

Right.

Emotionally, she's, um...

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.

Oh...

Claire?

Frank.

Hello.

I'm back.

And I am so grateful.

- Are you? - Of course.

With all my heart.

I'm sorry... wh...

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?

Um, 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.

Oh?

"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?"

Oh, 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.

Oh, 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.

Hmm?

Devil take the press.

Hm. 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 whiskey.

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, I want you to know that.

Whatever happened, wherever you've been.

What really matters to me is, 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... 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...

- 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,

what it was actually like

to have you just torn away like that.

I'm sorry, that must...

No, please.

You have said a great deal.

I only need a few minutes.

When you disappeared,

everyone wanted me to believe that you had left

of your own volition with another man.

And for a time I wanted to believe that, too, believe me.

So that I could fill...

the utter void that I felt

with rage...

with betrayal...

with hatred...

But I... I couldn't.

Because deep down I knew...

I knew that whatever had happened,

you did not choose to leave me,

that something had taken you from me,

and everything that you have told me tonight

confirms at least that.

Now as for this...

this other man...

Jamie.

I will not say

that I understand your feelings for him.

How could I possibly?

But I can accept them.

I can accept that you...

that you did feel that way,

that you had this...

this experience with this man,

and that leaving him broke your heart.

I can accept it.

I don't think you understand...

Claire, I once told you

there was nothing you could say or do

to change how I felt about you.

I meant it then, and I mean it now.

I love you, Claire.

Unconditionally, no matter what.

And here, now, and in this time.

Darling, I... Jesus.

I'm, I am your husband, and you're my wife.

We can still have a life together.

Please, Claire.

I'm pregnant.

Pregnant, what?

Claire, that's wonderful.

How is that... how is that...

No.

No...

It's Jamie's.

No.

I'm carrying another man's child, Frank.

You need to think about that,

and what that means.

For all of us.

Good morning, Mr. Randall.

You're up early.

Breakfast will be in about...

Forgive me, I apologize for the... for all the damage.

I will, of course, make the full...

No, no, no, think nothing of it.

No, it was a... a lot of old junk

I should've put in the dust bin years ago.

No, we need to focus on what's important.

You say that... that Claire is...

is with child.

This, uh, other man, are you certain he's dead?

Yes.

Her, um, her grief on that account seemed genuine.

Do you want to raise a child?

Have, have you thought seriously about having children?

Claire and I had tried to start a family

before she disappeared,

but, uh, without success.

I became concerned that

perhaps I was incapable.

Medically.

And I visited a doctor in Oxford last year,

and his examination confirmed that suspicion.

I'm sterile.

Oh, I'm... I'm sorry.

Well, first I, uh, I reasoned with myself

that with my wife gone,

the question of my fertility was,

well, an academic one at best,

so I pushed the subject aside,

concentrated on my work.

When Claire told me

that she was pregnant,

I was...

I just...

my first feeling was...

was joy.

This flash of...

of just happiness.

It was almost hallucinatory

in its intensity... I just...

Because...

somehow, suddenly, in that moment, I...

I thought she meant

wewere having a child.

God.

Then I realized, of course...

Couldn't be mine.

Had to be his.

Listen to me now.

Other men have faced this...

have faced this situation.

I, I doubt that very much.

When Mary told Joseph that she was with child,

and he couldn't be the father, he... he... he...

he too was confronted with a crisis of...

I am not Joseph! She is not Mary.

And I am fairly certain that the father

is not God Almighty.

He was a man, a man who fucked my wife.

Yes, Roger?

Please, may I go outside to play?

Of course, you may.

You keep your breeks out of the dirt,

or Mrs. Graham will be on the warpath.

Yes, father.

Forgive me.

No, no, no, he's fine. He's fine.

I, I doubt he heard very much.

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

He's... he's taking to doing it more of late.

Children accept the world as it is presented to them.

He knows I'm not his father, but that's how he sees me,

and... well, I've decided to stop correcting him.

Please...

you're going to connect your nephew to my situation.

The words "God's plan"

are about to escape your lips, I...

Well, at the risk of fulfilling

your worst expectations, I will say this.

A child without a father,

and, and a man without a child

have been given this chance to find one another.

And yes, I would call that part of God's eternal plan.

What you choose to call it, Frank,

well, that's up to you.

Just like that?

We just pick up where we left off?

Are you sure about this, Frank?

Perhaps you should take some time to think about...

I've had too much time to think.

Two years to contemplate the prospect

of a solitary existence.

I want us to be together.

Man and wife.

And child.

We start over.

I have been offered a post at Harvard.

I was going to turn it down.

Now I have a mind to take it.

To Boston.

Yes, the story of the...

"the lady taken by the fairies,"

as long as you're here, the British press will flog it...

Please, Frank,

don't ever use the word "flog"

in my presence again, is that understood?

Very well.

I also have conditions.

We will raise this child as our own. Ours.

Yours and mine.

Raised in a lie.

No, with a father.

A living, breathing man.

Not the echo of a memory that they can never catch.

Not a ghost.

Precisely.

You have other conditions?

Only one.

While I draw breath on this earth,

I cannot share you with another man.

No more research.

No more combing through the libraries of the world,

hoping to find some reference to him

or to the life you once led.

You must let him go.

I know.

I promised him I would.

He made me promise

that I would let him go.

So I will.

I accept your conditions.

You have made me very happy,

and I hope, in time,

that I will make you happy, too.

Time to leave the past behind.

It's all right.

When you're ready.

Thank you.

One more step.

- To new beginnings. - Aye.

I thought you were going to knock people over,

trying to get off that gangway.

I couldn't take another moment on that

rolling, creaking, leaking tub.

So I guess a trip to Boston is out of the question?

Not unless ye want to bury me at sea.

Well, there were times

I thought it would be the merciful thing to do.

France.

Reeks of frogs,

just as I remember it.

I think you'll find what you smell is fish,

and I doubt there's a seaport in all the world

that smells any different.

I'll arrange for some rooms for us somewhere.

Somewhere away from all this stink.

Sure.

Hey, hey, careful there!

That's not a sack of grain yer tossing about!

A bed...

that doesna move.

Luxury.

What is it?

Sometimes I...

feel his touch.

Like he's here.

I'm here, I'm right here,

and I'm not going away.

You're a hard one to get rid of, that's for sure.

I'm stubborn, just like my husband.

Hmm.

Now... let's talk about the future,

and how we're going to change it.

You're talking about

stopping the Jacobite rebellion?

Well, that is what we agreed to, isn't it?

I thought we agreed to think about it?

If there's going to be a war against the British,

should we not be trying to find a way to win it

instead of stopping it?

Well, I don't know enough details

to tell you how to do that.

Well...

what... what do you know, exactly?

Just the general outlines of history.

I know that Bonnie Prince Charlie comes to Scotland

and raises a Jacobite army.

At first they have several victories...

Well, that's a start, is it not?

Can we not build on that, help them to keep winning?

I don't know the tactics.

I don't know the strategy.

I don't know where the armies were,

why they won, or how they lost.

All I know is that eventually both sides end up

on Culloden Moor in April 1746,

and the Jacobites are wiped out.

And after that, the British destroy the Highland culture

in retribution.

That is the sum total of my knowledge of the war.

That's not a lot to go on, Sassenach.

But it starts now.

Here, with Charles in France.

I mean, we have to stop it here,

before the prince sails for Scotland.

We can infiltrate the Jacobite movement.

Get close to the key players.

Discover where they get their money and their arms,

and find a way to disrupt their plans.

You certainly have high opinion of what a...

crippled Highlander and a pregnant English woman

can accomplish.

Since when were you not up for a challenge?

Your cousin Jared lives in Paris, he's a Jacobite.

He can vouch for us, make some introductions.

What are you thinking?

I'm thinking it's not a very honorable path

you're laying out for us.

It's not just lying to my cousin.

We'd be lying to everyone.

But you have to remember what's at stake.

We're talking about tens of thousands of lives,

and the future of Scotland itself.

Surely that's worth the price?

Even if that price is our souls?

That won't happen.

We won't let that happen.

We have to trust in this.

In this I do.

And in this I will.

I'll, uh, I'll write a letter to Jared

asking him for his help.

What?

What the hell are we going to tell Murtagh?

So that's all you'll tell me, hmm?

Nothing more?

- We can't, I'm sorry. - You must trust us.

I trust ye with my life,

ye ken that well.

But it seems to me ye don't trust me to know

the true reason behind this...

this cloth of lies we're about to wrap ourselves in,

like a plaid woven out of guile and deception.

We've told you the reason, to stop the Jacobite rising.

That is the purpose of the lie.

It's not the reason.

The rising is doomed to failure.

it must not happen.

Again, not the reason.

The true reason behind yer certainty

remains carefully hid.

And you're hiding it from me.

You're right.

We are keeping it hidden.

But believe me, if we could...

One day...

I will tell you the reason.

I vow to you.

I'll tell you everything that has happened

and why.

At the proper time.

Aye.

That'll do.

And when will be "the proper time?"

You tell me, Sassenach.

You're the one from the future.

I admire your patriotism, to be sure.

But I am curious as to your sudden change of heart.

Well, Jared, my heart has ever been

full of love for my country.

Aye.

But you miss my meaning.

We've known each other a long time.

You've lived in my house.

You've dined at my table.

You've lifted more than one glass with me at establishments

too disreputable to mention in front of your fair bride.

Dinna fash on her account. She's a sturdy woman.

"Sturdy."

Why, Jamie, you do flatter me so.

Nevertheless, in all that time,

I never heard you once voice

even the slightest interest in politics.

In France, to be known as a Jacobite

is a badge of honor, supporters of the true faith

against the heretic on the throne.

But we have enemies, to be sure.

Enemies that would delight in watching us dance a jig

on the gallows back in England.

So while the cause has many friends,

only a few are called brother,

and they are the ones with the fire of righteousness

burning in their hearts.

Tell me now, what is the fire that burns within you?

Show him.

Courtesy of the British army.

Also a crippled hand

and several scars across his mangled body.

Now, I ask you plainly,

does any man need further reason

to rise up against a king

that would allow such horrors

to be carried out in his name?

No.

The cause can only be strengthened by your sword.

I'm sorry I doubted you, brother.

Will you help us then?

In what way?

What is it exactly that you would wish me to do?

I want to meet the Jacobite leaders face to face.

I want to hear their plans,

how they mean to carry them out.

Why should they meet with you?

A wanted man in his own country

now come to France with a price on his head

and not much more than the clothes on his back?

I should think the Stuarts would value the support

of Laird Broch Tuarach

and the Fraser clan,

should they plan on returning to Scotland

in the near future.

Perhaps.

I shall give it some thought.

But in the meantime,

I believe we can be of help to one another.

I've been delaying a trip to the West Indies

until I could find someone competent and trustworthy enough

to run the wine business in my absence.

You have a fine head for figures, as I recall?

Aye.

But I know nothing of the wine business,

beyond drinking, of course.

I've seen you drink. You will do fine.

And in return, I will give you the run of my house in Paris,

and while I'm gone, a share of the profits.

Say, twenty-five percent.

Thirty-five percent.

And your help.

Oh, you will do just fine.

Done.

While Jamie inspected the shipment of port,

I went for a walk.

I was beginning to be susceptible

to bouts of morning sickness,

and while the air along the docks wasn't exactly fresh,

it was better than the close confines

of our temporary lodgings.

Claire!

Claire!

The captain tried to stop me

from seeing the sick crewman because he knew the truth.

Claire!

Claire.

No, stay back.

Stay back, it's all right.

If this is what I think it is, I can't get it.

Pus-filled blisters, and high fever.

The diagnosis was obvious.

This will be trouble.

Le Comte St. Germain.

These men must be quarantined.

We need to contact the local medical authorities...

No, this is a matter best left

to the port authorities, Sassenach.

Jamie, I can't just...

Claire, trust me.

Claire!

Claire, we have to go.

There's nothing more you can do here.

Monsieur...

Senior Broch Tuarach...

I have done nothing more than state the truth.

Make no mistake.

The Comte will not forget what happened.

You've made an enemy here today.

Another country, another enemy.

Life with you is certainly never dull, Sassenach.

I shall endeavor to be

more dull, if that would suit you better.

I wouldn't change you to save the world.

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

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