Outlander (2014–…): Season 1, Episode 8 - Both Sides Now - full transcript

In 1945, Frank is still seeking Claire, but is starting to lose hope of ever finding her. Meanwhile in 1743, Claire is trying to come to terms with her marriage to Jamie. While traveling, a life changing opportunity arises.

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.

♪ Sing me a song of
a lass that is gone ♪

♪ Say, could that lass be I? ♪

♪ Merry of soul she sailed on a day ♪

♪ Over the sea to Skye ♪

♪ Billow and breeze ♪

♪ Islands and seas ♪

♪ Mountains of rain and sun ♪

♪ All that was good ♪

♪ All that was fair ♪

♪ All that was me is gone ♪



♪ Sing me a song of
a lass that is gone ♪

♪ Say, could that lass be I? ♪

♪ Merry of soul she sailed on a day ♪

♪ Over the sea ♪

♪ to Skye ♪

Sync and corrections by; kDragon
Addic7ed.com

OUTLANDER
Original air date 27/09

Inverness Police,
Constable Boyle speaking,

how may I help you?

Uh huh.

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 could 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

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, invest-

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?

Ay, Hugh, Hugh Munro.

Hi.

How'd you know I was here?

Aye, saw Dougal and the
others watering the horses?

Aye.

Figured I must be up here.

Oh?

Her. Claire, my wife.

Oh.

Married but these two days.

Ah, says he's got news,

but insists we drink to you first.

Can say I disagree.

Sure.

Wedding gift.

Oh, how kind.

This is beautiful.

It's a dragonfly.

Thank you.

Gone official, have you?

Huh?

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 Parrish.

Single Parrish?

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 with news,

Ah.

Who?

Why would he know?

Can he be trusted?

What's his name?

Haharack.

Harack?

Horrock.

Horrocks.

When and where does this
Horrocks want to meet?

All right.

All right.

Thank you, thank you kindly, Hugh.

There's a chance,

I can 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?

Aye, 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, uh, 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.

Ahem. Gentlemen...

Tea is served. And biscuits.

Oh, 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. Randall.

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 half past 12:00.

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, half past 12:00.

Another.

And so the water-horse 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

of 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 water-horse 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!

Get off!

They're going for the grain and the horses.

Stay back.

Come on, ye!

Come on!

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.

Mr. Randall,

I was starting to think
you weren't gonna show.

I believe I'm on time.

I just thought you might be early.

Here.

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.

Aye.

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.

Uh, 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. Aye.

A what?

Sgian dubh Hidden dagger.

Some people hide them in their socks,

but 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. Hmm?

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.

Uh oh, 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?

Mm hmm.

Very difficult to hit anything vital

when you stab in the back.

Slip the knife between the ribs, huh?

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, 'arry.

Stopping in the middle, now
that's bad for a man's 'health.

Oh, his health'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 'him watch first.

You like that, you Scottish whoreson?

Take a good look, laddybuck,

see how it's done,

'cause I'll have your slut moaning

for more before the hour is done.

No!

Aah! Aah!

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 dribbledrabble 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

Oh...

It's an old house.

All right, well... 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 an other 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 twiddletwaddle.

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.

Mr. 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. Graham. They often return.

I did hear you.

I simply do not share your beliefs.

Forgive me.

Sorry.

I'm so sorry.

It's all right.

We're all right.

My fault.

To bring you here without
taking proper heat,

and to let you be...

to not stop him.

It's all right.

And here, you're so cold mo nighean Donn.

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.

Errol Flynn swinging on a rope,

the feeling of my dagger
tip 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.

There's letters.

The tracks lead back
over the ridgeno horses.

Good.

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.

Good.

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.

U.S. 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.

Cadillac model 75 staff car,

transporting the general...

As well as private first
class Horace L. Woodring

collided with a truck
just outside of Spain.

A controversial figure,
General Patton's career

spanned both the first
and second world wars,

most recently as commander
of the U.S. Third army.

Ahem. 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.

Aye.

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.

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 James' 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 think.

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,
uh, his wife's efforts.

His wife?

The duchess. You've met her?

Oh, 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, uh...

that is who we're talking about.

But, of course, um...

the duke has never been married.

Corporal.

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, hmm?

Your real name.

Then...

you can tell me everything that you know

about...

Dougal MacKenzie...

his brother Colum...

the, uh...

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.