You're Tearin' My Guts Out, Claire.

Jamie," I Said, "how, Exactly, Do You Decide Whether You're Drunk?" Aroused By My Voice, He Swayed Alarmingly To One Side, But Caught Himself On The Edge Of The Mantelpiece. His Eyes Drifted Around The Room, Then Fixed On My Face. For An Instant, They Blazed Clear And Pellucid With Intelligence. "och, Easy, Sassenach, If Ye Can Stand Up, You're Not Drunk." He Let Go Of The Mantelpiece, Took A Step Toward Me, And Crumpled Slowly Onto The Hearth, Eyes Blank, And A Wide, Sweet Smile On His Dreaming Face.

I Stood Still, Vision Blurring, And In That Moment, I Heard My Heart Break. It Was A Small, Clean Sound, Like The Snapping Of A Flower's Stem.

"sassenach." He Had Called Me That From The First; The Gaelic Word For Outlander, A Stranger. An Englishman. First In Jest, Then In Affection.

Perhaps It Was Only That The Sense Of Reaching Out To Something Larger Than Yourself Gives You Some Feeling That There Is Something Larger - And There Really Has To Be, Because Plainly You Aren't Sufficient To The Situation.

Scots Have Long Memories, And They're Not The Most Forgiving Of People.