Outlander (2014) s01e08 Episode Script

Both Sides Now

Previously My husband.
Nothing you could ever do could stop my loving you.
Jonathan, Jonathan Wolverton Randall, finally.
Captain of Dragoons in the British army, and your direct ancestor.
Otherwise known as Black Jack.
I heard stories of a place called Craigh na Dun.
I was no longer in the 20th century.
What was Frank going through? Claire? Perhaps I was abducted.
Perhaps I was dead Or perhaps, worst of all, I had left him for another man.
Ripped By mstoll Inverness police, Constable Boyle speaking, how may I help you? I see.
Yes, ma'am, I see now.
When did you first notice the items were missing? He's back.
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.
I think today's the day.
Today, sir? I have let this go on long enough.
Today, Sergeant.
Good luck.
Yes, ma'am, I heard every word you said.
I'm gonna send a man over straightaway.
I am sorry, Mr.
Randall, you know, I'm very, very sorry.
Please believe me when I say I wish there was more that we could do.
Well, there's your job, perhaps you would do that.
I know this must be disappointing to you.
Disappointing? That's an interesting word.
It suggests expectations that were unmet.
My expectations of your department were low to begin with, and I can assure you that you have met those expectations at every turn.
We have spent the past six weeks searching over 100 square miles of rugged terrain, conducted 175 interviews Invested over 1,000 man hours.
I know the litany, detective, but tell me, what do you have to show for these, for these efforts? My wife has disappeared.
Do you have any idea at all what might have happened to her? We haven't found a body.
Now, that tells me that she's probably still alive.
No blood in the car, no sign of a struggle, now, that tells me that she probably wasn't taken against her will.
Yeah, your favorite theory.
You personally witnessed a man staring up at her window the night before she disappeared.
I have said from the very beginning that the Highlander is certainly involved in some way.
Of course he's involved, you fool.
He's her lover, and the two of them left together.
My wife is not with another man.
Ask you a question? Of course.
Well, my question, I don't wish to, that is I don't mean to imply that you have some vast knowledge of men, but well, you know more than I do in such matters.
Out with it.
Is it usual, what it is between us when I touch you, when you lie with me? Is it always so between a man and a woman? It's often something like this.
No, this isn't usual.
It's different.
Don't move.
- Friend of yours? - Aye.
Hugh, Hugh Munro.
How'd you know I was here? Aye, saw Dougal and the others watering the horses? - Aye.
- Figured I must be up here.
Claire, my wife.
Married but these two days.
Says he's got news, but insists we drink to you first.
Canna say I disagree.
Wedding gift.
Oh, how kind.
This is beautiful.
It's a dragonfly.
Thank you.
Gone official, have you? Or are these just for when the game is scarce? What are they? Gaberlunzie tokens.
They're licenses to beg, Sassenach.
They're good within the borders of a single parish.
Single parish? About a dozen by my count.
Aye, well, Munro's a special case, you see.
He was captured by the Turks at sea.
Spent a good many years as a slave in Algiers.
That's where he lost his tongue.
Cut it out? And poured boiling oil on his legs.
It's how they forced captive Christians to convert to Mussulman religion.
Said you came wi' news.
Who? Why would he know? Can he be trusted? What's his name? Ha Harack.
Harack? Horrock.
When and where does this Horrocks want to meet? All right.
All right.
Thank you, thank you kindly, Hugh.
There's a chance to get the price lifted from my head.
There's a witness who can prove my innocence.
Claims he was there during my escape from Fort William, saw who actually killed the Sergeant.
But I'm not sure I can trust him.
- Is this Horrocks? Ave, a Redcoat deserter.
But if there's a chance I can finally go home with my bride, Claire Fraser, Lady of Lallybroch What about the Findhorn river? Did you tell them? They weren't interested.
It's a theory, a good one.
She leaves Craigh na Dun, gets lost, turns back, tries to follow the Findhorn river, takes a misstep, and then is swept away by the current, all the way down to the Darnaway Forest.
Darnaway Forest is 20 miles from where the car was found.
Ah, the river is fast, and it was swift that night.
She could've been carried twice that far.
These maps of the area, they're poor.
Looks as though there are bends in the river here where she might have made it to shore, and then found shelter along this ridge, maybe, maybe in a cave.
So she's tired, she's lost, she doesn't know where to turn.
So she hunkers down in this cave to keep warm, and lives on fish and frogs while waiting to be found.
Fish and frogs for seven weeks? She relied on her army survival training.
She's a strong woman.
She's smart.
She's We're grasping at straws.
Gentlemen - Tea is sewed.
- And biscuits.
Thank you, Roger.
May I have a biscuit, please? You mean another biscuit? Aye.
Have you been eating all my biscuits, Roger Wakefield? Now, go upstairs, and get ready for bed.
I'll be up in a minute to read you a story.
I think I need something a little stronger.
Care for some company? No, thank you.
Don't wait up.
What can I get you? Nothing.
Evening, Mr.
You can call me Sally, but that's not my real name.
What can I do for you, Sally? It's what I can do for you.
I ken where he is.
Where? Close.
I'll take you to him.
Not now.
There's too many eyes and ears in here.
Meet me on Drummond Lane, just past the cobbler shop at 12:30.
Come alone and bring the reward.
Is he with her? My wife? I don't know.
All I can do is take you to where he is.
After that, it's your concern.
Remember, 12:30.
And some waterhorse carries the builder straight into the water, and down through the depths to his own cold, fishy home, then he tells the builder if he would be free, he must build a fine house, and a muckle chimney as well, so that the waterhorse's wife could warm her hands by the fire and fry her fish.
And the builder, having little choice, did as he was bid, because the waterhorse's wife was sad, and cold, and hungry in her new home beneath the waves.
Be Yuletide by the time we get back to Leoch.
Christmas I don't suppose you hang stockings by the fire.
To dry them off, you mean? Never mind.
And the waterhorse's wife was warm then, and happy, and full of the fish she fried for her supper, but when the man came down to the What's the matter? The horses, they're restless.
Someone's near.
Now, don't move.
We all know.
Disappearing into the murky waters below.
And the waters of the east end Loch Garve never freeze over, because the heat from the waterhorse's chimney melts the ice.
See that fallen tree? When I say, go to it and don't move.
Take this.
The waterhorse beneath the waves has but fish's teeth and feeds on snails and water weeds and cold, wet things.
His blood runs cold as water - and has no need of fire.
- Go! Mind the wagon! They're going for the grain and the horses.
Stay back.
Come on, ye! Come on! Claire! Claire! I'm all right.
I'm all right.
Who were those men? The Grants.
Did they take anything? A horse, three bags of grain, but none of the money.
- A horse? - Could've been worse.
- Are you all right, Willie? - Aye.
Did you see that shot? It was at 20 paces if it was one.
Randall' I was starting to think you weren't gonna show.
I believe I'm on time.
I just thought you might be early.
Where? Give us the reward.
Stop! Stop, please! You're gonna kill him! No! No! No! No! No! There is no Highlander is there? Is there? No, no! It's fashionable in this modern age to dismiss the idea of good and evil, but there is evil, and it finds purchase in good men by giving sin the sweet taste of ecstasy.
The Nazis drank from that poisoned cup, thinking all the while they were slaking their thirst with the sweetest wine.
Are you suggesting that I have been drinking from the same cup? Evil has but one cup.
They drank long and deep.
Yours was but a sip.
Make it your last.
Turn away from the darkness that beckons you, and go back into the light.
You mean leave Inverness.
Go back to Oxford.
You start your life over.
And what of Claire? Let her go, just as she has let you go.
So you believe that she left with the Highlander of her own volition? Have you ever read Sherlock Holmes, Frank? Marvelous books.
One point he makes, when you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.
I don't know.
It just slipped out of my hand.
- Found it.
- Good man.
It's too long and heavy for me.
Lasses say that to me all the time.
You gave her a knife and you didn't show her how to use it.
Someone should teach this lady how to defend herself - against assailants.
- Aye, Angus, you're a good man with a blade.
Thank you all the same, but I think I'll be fine.
Every man and woman in the world needs to know how to defend themselves, Sassenach, especially those married to a Fraser.
I become more aware of that every day.
Lass needs a Sgian Dubh.
A what? Sgian Dubh, hidden dagger.
Some people hide them in their socks, but I, I keep mine in a rather more private place.
Now then, who needs a lesson? Mostly, you want to use the underhand.
Overhand is only good if you're coming down on someone else with a considerable force from above ye.
I still say the only good weapon for a woman is poison.
Perhaps, but it has certain deficiencies in combat.
All right.
So where do I aim my Sgian Dubh? If you're killing face to face, here.
Aim straight up, and then, as hard as you can into the heart.
Avoid the breast bone.
You get your knife stuck in that soft part on the top, you'll be without a knife.
So, right there? Whoa, dinnae kill him yet, Mistress.
Wait 'til the lesson's over.
Willie, give us a hand.
Turn around, so I can show how to kill from behind.
Now, this is the spot in the back.
Either side will do.
Now, you see where all the ribs and such? Very difficult to hit anything vital when you stab in the back.
Slip the knife between the ribs.
That's one thing.
A lot harder to do than ye might think.
Here, here.
Just under the last rib, you stab upward, and into the kidney.
Straight up.
They'll drop like a stone.
All right.
Straight up And in.
See, got it.
Won't they come looking for us? I told Dougal we need to find some more of your wee herbs.
This is my idea, is it? And did he believe you? Never a chance.
Does it ever stop, the wanting you? Now I know why the church calls it a sacrament.
Why? Because I feel like God himself when I'm inside ye.
What? Is that a foolish thing to say? You're laughing at me.
Yes, I most certainly am.
And you'll get what you deserve.
Get up, you rutting bastard.
You might ha' let him finish first, Harry.
Stoppin' in the middle, now that's bad for a man's 'ealth.
His 'ealth's no concern of mine.
It won't be any concern of his for much longer.
Well, kill him, and be done with it then, 'cause I've a mind to take a piece o' that.
No Think I'll let 'im watch first.
You like that, you Scottish whoreson? Take a good look, laddie-buck, see how it's done, 'cause I'll have your slut moaning for more before the hour is done.
No! I have held my tongue for weeks now, and I'll be silent no longer.
You cannot tell him this fantasy of yours.
I know what I know, and I won't pretend that I don't.
What you know is a bunch of dribble-drabble and nonsense, and I will not have it paraded about as fact.
He has a right to hear it and make up his own mind.
You cannot hold up false hope to the poor man, just as he's finally accepting that his wife It's an old house.
Is there something you wish to tell me, Mrs.
Graham? There is.
Even if it should cost me my position, I feel I must tell you the truth.
- The truth - The truth as I know it.
There is another explanation for what happened to your wife.
The stories are old.
Some say as old as the stones themselves, passed down from generation to generation through ballads and songs.
I first heard them from my grandmother, and she from hers.
The songs tell stories about people who Travel through the stones.
Travel through stone? I'm not sure I take your meaning.
Not literally through the stone itself.
You see The circle at Craigh na Dun marks a A place on the Earth where the powers of nature come together.
Superstition and Middle-Maddie.
Go on.
The stones gather the powers, and give it focus, like a glass, ye ken? And for certain people, on certain days, it allows them to pierce the veil of time.
Randall, you know your wife went up that hill the day she vanished.
I believe she didn't come back down that hill, at least not in 1945.
I believe that she traveled to some other time.
Where or, when would that be? I don't know.
Every traveler is different.
They must make their own journey on their own path, but the songs do say that the travelers often return.
I see.
I shall leave for Oxford this afternoon.
Did ye no hear me? - Mrs.
- They often return.
I did hear you.
I simply do not share your beliefs.
Forgive me.
I'm so sorry.
It's all right.
We're all right.
My fault.
To bring you here without taking proper heed, and to let you be To not stop him.
It's all right.
And here, you're so cold.
Your hands are like ice.
Jamie! - It's shock.
- Are you all right? We heard a shot.
I'm going into shock.
- Jamie.
- Stay.
I'm going into shock.
It's all right.
My mind jumped and danced from thought to thought, like a stone skipping across a pond.
My parents, men I'd seen die, the smell of Uncle Lamb's cigarettes, Error Flynn swinging on a rope, the feeling of my dagger lip puncturing the kidney.
I knew he was worried about me, knew he wanted to talk about what had happened, but I knew if I did, if I started giving rein to my feelings, things would pour out of me that I wanted to keep locked away forever.
It's shock.
It's all right.
It's all right.
The tracks lead back over the ridge, no horses.
Your man Horrocks Munro said he's a deserter like these.
Hey, Hugh Munro's a good man.
I won't deny it, but this is what becomes of a man who breaks his oath to king and country.
Now, you go and see Horrocks alone, you'll be walking into a trap, maist like.
He's right, Jamie.
You have to meet him, I understand that, but I say we all go with you with our swords in our hands.
Otherwise, you don't go at all.
- Aye.
- Come on.
I don't remember getting on my horse.
I don't remember riding away, or even how long we rode.
All I can recall of that pivotal moment in my life was that I was angry, and I didn't know why.
Why are we stopping? You'll have to stay here with Willie.
What? Dougal was right.
Now, this man Horrocks may be setting a trap.
I'll no risk you again.
You'll be safer here with Willie to look out for ye.
I don't need an explanation.
You can take Willie with you.
I can look after myself.
I think I've proven that earlier.
You needn't prove it again.
If there are Redcoats about, they'll likely come from the south.
- I'll keep an eye out.
- Aye.
You stay here.
I'll be back, I promise.
You shouldn't make promises you can't keep.
This one I will keep, Claire.
Now, you promise me you'll stay put.
- Jamie.
- Coming! Promise me, Claire.
Swear you'll be here when I get back.
Fine, I promise.
In that moment, the reason for my bitterness became clear to me.
I wasn't angry at Jamie or the Redcoat deserters.
I was angry at myself for forgetting about my plan to make my way back to the stones at Craigh na Dun, my plan to return to my own time, to my husband, Frank.
US Army headquarters in Berlin announced the death of General George S.
Patton Jr, earlier today from injuries he sustained in a car accident 12 days ago.
Patton's Cadillac model 75 staff car, transporting the general As well as private first class Horace L.
Woodring collided with a truck just outside of Speyer.
A controversial figure, General Patton's career spanned both the First and Second World Wars, most recently as commander of the US third army Mistress? Mistress! What? If you need me, I'll just be taking care of some personal business.
Go at least 50 yards away and downwind.
I tried to avoid thinking about the incident in the meadow, but my mind kept returning to it, again, and again, picking at a festering sore best left untouched.
And suddenly, there it was Craigh na Dun.
My mind had been so clouded and confused, I didn't recognize the road when we rode in.
There was no mistaking it.
I was back to the place where it had all begun.
So much had happened.
So much had changed.
Last I was here, I was Claire Randall, then Claire Beauchamp, then Claire Fraser.
The question was, who did I want to be? Claire.
Claire! Where are you, Claire? Frank! Claire! Frank, wait for me.
Frank! Claire.
Frank! No! Frank! Frank! Claire.
I knew where we were going without having to ask, Fort William.
The site of Jamie's incarceration and flogging four years ago, and now, still the province of a man I unfortunately knew all too well.
He would have no advance notice of my capture.
No time to plan his interrogation.
I, on the other hand, had the entire jolting journey in the back of the wagon to mink.
It was my one advantage.
I prayed it would be enough.
Felicitations and congratulations on your recent marriage.
Though I don't particularly care whether you consider yourself an Englishwoman or a Scot And apparently, neither do you.
You still wear your old wedding ring? Sentimental attachment.
I doubt you have a sentimental bone in your body.
But the more interesting question is why would Dougal MacKenzie consider you of such value, that he would rather adopt you as one of his own than allow me to question you? I am sure I have no idea what you're talking about.
Really? The King.
The King.
I'm glad to hear that you still consider him your sovereign.
We MacKenzies are all loyal subjects.
That is the single most amusing thing I've heard all week.
So I take it you haven't been amusing yourself by flogging some innocent prisoners then? Amusing myself? What an odd thing to say.
As you know from our previous meeting, I consider flogging a very serious matter indeed.
Madam, you need to understand your position.
In this hour, our third encounter, I fully intend by any means necessary to discover both your true nature and the secrets that you hold.
Perhaps you should ask the Duke of Sandringham.
Oh, dear me, I do hope that won't stain.
A dangerous gambit to be sure, but his reaction told me that Frank and the Reverend were right in their speculation.
I suspect your ancestor had a patron, a prominent and powerful man who could protect him from the censure of his superiors.
Possibly, but it would have to have been someone very high up in the hierarchy of the day to exert that kind of influence.
The Duke of Sandringham? The Duke of Sandringham? Black Jack was able to commit his various crimes in the Highlands because he was being protected by a powerful man, and the cost of such protection was always silence and fidelity.
What do you know of the Duke? Really, captain, must you be so obtuse? Is it not clear by now that you and I are both in the employ of the same great and powerful man? That is impossible.
He would've told me.
Because he tells you all his secrets? You must be a very special officer indeed.
I will simply send a message to Sandringham asking him.
Excellent idea.
I'm sure he'll be most pleased at your skill and acumen at uncovering my identity, or Perhaps your disruption of the Duke's carefully laid plans will not be rewarded.
Perhaps he will be displeased, and take measures to terminate your special relationship, withdraw the protection to which you've become accustomed, and thus leave you at the mercy of your superior officers and local authorities.
No, the wisest course of action would be to allow me to continue my mission and give the Duke no indication of how close you came to disrupting his efforts on behalf of the king.
You mean, of course, his wife's efforts.
His wife? The Duchess.
You've met her? - I've never had the pleasure.
- Really? An agent of the Duke is an agent of the Duchess.
Well, we have been in communication.
Communication by letter? - By messenger, yes.
- With the Duchess? That's who we're talking about, isn't it? Yes.
That is That is who we're talking about.
But, of course The Duke has never been married.
I'm sorry, madam.
What kind of gentleman keeps a rope at his desk? A prepared one, madam.
You can go, Hawkins.
And corporal, don't come back, no matter what you hear.
- Go.
- Sir.
Help, somebody! Help me! Now I think we should begin with your name.
Your real name.
Then You can tell me everything that you know about Dougal MacKenzie His brother Colum The The Jacobite rebellion And finally, the Duke of Sandringham.
You are going to regret this.
I doubt it.
What have we here? My, my.
The lady has claws.
Are they sharp? Hmm, are they? I'll thank ye to take your hands off my wife.
Good God.
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