You have met Fergus at the age of 15; when he oh so chivalrously asked you if you needed help to carry the basket to Mrs. Murray's kitchen. Although Jenny had beg you to call her auntie Jenny, given the fact that your mother was a close friend of hers but your sense of propriety didn't let you do that

To Fergus you were stunning —no more stunning than his M'lady, Claire but stunning nonetheless— although he assumed it wasn't the same kind of stunning; you were a lassie a year younger than him and Claire was the woman that took him in. But what was he, nothing more than a one-armed Frenchman compared to the potential husbands you could have from other men? Nothing 

Even if it should be the bare minimum, the French boy's kindness stuck on you and Jenny did not miss upon that so she made sure you always came home when Fergus was around there; which made you fall in love as fast as the leaves fall from the trees in autumn

By the time he, Ian and Jamie had the printshop Fergus and you —in a rather desperate attempt of not being separated— handfasted. So they had to take you with them too

After that everything came smoothly; Fergus' adoptive mother was back, a little later hers and Jamie's daughter and her husband came too, you and Fergus got legally married and he finally got the Fraser's name and you had four kids with less than two years of age gap

After going to america you and Fergus stayed in Savannah, Georgia; where you raised Germain, Joan, Felicité and Henri-Christian where you opened another printshop, Fergus & Sons

In there you had some difficulties due to your husband secretly printing material favoring the english

Before returning to Fraser's Ridge you almost lost both Fergus and Henri-Christian, your youngest because of a fire those good-for-nothing provoked

The episode giving you nightmares; drowning your dreams in sadness and agony. Imagining a world where you lose one of them while you stand outside the building in flames, screaming their names as Brianna —your sister in law— holds you, trying to stop you from coming on it yourself

Your husband's body falling into the fire is the last thing you see before waking up with a whimper; looking around the room in confusion before sighing when you see Fergus next to you, his face as paceful as ever until he feels the pressure of your body hugging him tightly

"Mon amour, what happened?" he asks in a sweet nothing, hugging you back when he feels some wetness on his shirt "Was it another nightmare, ma douce vie?"