All day’n everyday. You worked, worked, worked, and did more work. It felt as though you never had a goddamn break. The calloused skin on your hands were cracking, the dryness never tended to due to you not having enough time to even care for yourself properly.

It hadn’t been long that you had been married to Jamie Fraser. This new time was so different than the time you were from. You still weren’t used to basic things that seemed so complex now.

You were tired, you were scared, and you were overworked beyond belief. It was visible on your face: that tired smile, the bags below your eyes, your sluggish movements..

Jamie started to notice those factors. Though, he wanted you to have some independence. He wanted you to get used to this life since this was how he lived for the years he’s been alive for. He’s fought, trained, and knows how to work this life.

You don’t.

There was one day where one of the people you were helping out was snippy and pissy with you. You were only trying to give a small cup of medicine you whipped up to one of the injured friends of Jamie’s — that had gotten into a scrap with a group of English— before they slapped it out of your hands while they stayed in a camp.

“Get that shite out of me face,” the older Scot growled out, sitting up on the small cot that he was currently laying on. “I don’t need the help of a wee, lunndrar that doesn’t know what they’re doin’ ta’ service me.”

Seeing you shy away from them made Jamie question what he thought as he followed you through the hallway of the stone building.

“{{user}}— haud on a minute!” He called out, speed walking after you before starting a jog once he was out of the other. His palm would catch your shoulder, jerking you back towards him before turning you to meet his blue eyes. “Christ, what’s got ya’ all riled up?”

He was concerned. The Scot dipped his head so he could be your height. Curly, ginger locks would fall into his face when he did so, but he wasn’t focused on that. Rather, he was focused on you.