You're Tearin' My Guts Out, Claire.

An Englishman Thinks A Hundred Miles Is A Long Way; And American Thinks A Hundred Years Is A Long Time

So Remember It, Lad. If Your Head Thinks Up Mischief, Your Backside's Going To Pay For It. Brian Fraser To Young Jamie

It Was One Of Those Strange Moments That Came To Him Rarely, But Never Left. A Moment That Stamped Itself On Heart And Brain, Instantly Recallable In Every Detail, For All Of His Life. There Was No Telling What Made These Moments Different From Any Other, Though He Knew Them When They Came. He Had Seen Sights More Gruesome And More Beautiful By Far, And Been Left With No More Than A Fleeting Muddle Of Their Memory. But These-- The Still Moments, As He Called Them To Himself-- They Came With No Warning, To Print A Random Image Of The Most Common Things Inside His Brain, Indelible.

What A Mystery Blood Was -- How Did A Tiny Gesture, A Tome Of Voice, Endure Through Generations Like The Harder Verities Of Flesh? He Had Seen It Again And Again, Watching His Nieces And Nephews Grow, And Accepted Without Thought The Ehoes Of Parent And Grandparent That Appeared For Brief Moments. The Shadow Of A Face Looking Back Through The Years -- That Vanished Again Into The Face That Was Now.

I Talk To You As I Talk To My Own Soul," He Said, Turning Me To Face Him. He Reached Up And Cupped My Cheek, Fingers Light On My Temple. "and Sassenach," He Whispered, "your Face Is My Heart.