Chapter Text
Ben rose with a groan the next morning at the first signs of sunrise to make his round through camp. He dressed, still wincing as he stretched to get his shirt over his head. To be honest, his rips still hurt like hell and in the shine of the lantern he discovered his side was covered in an extensive bruise that showed no signs of fading anytime soon. Is fingers traced over the purple color, tender to the touch. He stopped, as he accidently touched a broken rip. Audibly sucking the air in to stop himself from crying out, he panted what felt like an eternity till his heartbeat had slowed down again and the pain had subsided. He probably shouldn’t fight for a couple of days if not absolutely necessary, he pondered.
His thoughts wondered back to last night. The dinner. The talk with Washington. For a moment, he considered asking a leave of the Commander in Chief, light duty, just to give his rips a few more days to heal probably, but he overruled it quickly. Washington needed him at his best, he had told him that much, not wining like a child. The general had shown him kindness enough, now he had to repay the given trust and concern. After all, he wasn’t Arnold or Lafayette, who were dear friends or important allies, not even Hamilton, he was a simple major and dragoon.
He looked over to his cot, where Thomas was still sleeping, little hands curled around the blanket. Concern was bubbling up in Ben for he didn’t need to step outside to know it was freezing. Even inside the tent the air was chilly. The boy would get a cold, if not even the grip with this weather. One needed any warmth they could get right now. Silently, Ben took the woolen cloak from his shoulders and tucked it over the small form. “Sleep a bit more, will you, Thomas?”
The child just snuggled into the warmth and sighted. Ben hopped for the boy that his dream was a pleasant one- and hopefully not about his parents. After all, the grieve had just been forgotten for a day and the young major dreaded the moment it would return. How could he ever make up for this? He had taken everything away from the boy, every safety, every comfort and family, even his real name. How could he actually look the boy in the eye? Ben sighted, rubbing his cold fingers together. Little steps! The round, breakfast, reports… Maybe Caleb would be back around midday. God, please let him be back, he almost pleaded- and please let Anna be alright. With one last look over to Thomas, Ben stepped into the freezing coldness outside.
The first snow had finally fallen and it was more than any of them had anticipated. The Privates on duty hadn’t even cleared the passageways between the tents yet and so Ben tramped through the untouched snow, inspecting the camp.
He picked up the new letters he had received and sent one of his man to the village, where he had said that the deserters would have been sent. Duty done, he went to get a meager breakfast and slipped the cook, an old sergeant with a crippled right arm, a coin for an extra for Thomas.
The Sergeant on duty snorted, inspecting the coin in the firelight. “For you son, aye? Didn’t pick ya the type to woo the girls, Tallmadge. Caleb told us ya always have been such a prude. Guess ya became a man after all.”
Ben shifted uncomfortable, only the cold preventing the telltale blush to creep upon his cheeks. “Are you finished, Sergeant?”
The man only huffed and pointed his breadknife at Ben. “Pretty boy ya are, Tallmadge, but kids are not allowed here. What did ya do, that the old man allowed it?”
“I don’t think…”
“Oi, thinking has nothing to do with it, aye? As I said, pretty ya are. All baby blue eyes and rosy cheeks. His type, aye? A lot of your kind here lately.”
Ben felt disgust and anger rise in him. So they were back on the old accuse again, the one Bradford had used, the one Washington’s enemies and enviers always told as a truth. How dared that man to raise a voice against their commander in chief, their only hope against the British? Washington was too good and noble to have his name dragged through the mire! That was an insult, Ben would never let pass. “You will take that back, Sergeant, or I will have you flogged!”
The man only snorted. “Yeah? You wanna flog the whole camp?”
Ben’s hands curled into fists. It would be so easy. He could blame everything on that insult against the general and just let his anger and fear go, unleash it. Just letting go for one small moment. It boiled inside him, higher and higher. Than he remembered his farther. The things he preached, he had taught him. And e remembered Washington’s disapproving stare after the incident with Bradford. Ben’s hands trembled as he uncurled them. “I could start with you, Sergeant. Or maybe I will bring you before Washington to repeat the insult and let him judge himself.”
At that, the man went pale as a ghost. Washington wasn’t known for mercy- and he had a temper. Nothing, the man wanted to experience first handed it seemed. Stammering, he went for an excuse.
“Thought as much.” Ben took the meager meal and returned wordlessly to his tent, suddenly only miserable and cold. He wasn’t even sure himself why, but he felt like crying. What would his father think about the man he had become?
He entered his tent and set the plate down. His fingers were numb from the frosty wind and he blew some warm air on the, to get a bit of a feeling back.
Was the man a threat? Was the mood in the camp low and rebellious enough to be a threat to Washington? Ben tried to think, but his head seemed to slow, to heavy. Should he report this to Washington or would it only earn him another lecture like the last time Ben only had concerns for his safety and no intelligence to report. Tiredly, he rested it into his hands and wondered, what to make of all of this, of him. He only realized from where he knew the feeling, when he unconsciously reached for the letter he had kept in the little bible next to his pillow.
Dear Damon,
He traced the words with his fingers, knowing now that they were leis. Nathan hadn’t been sent to Boston for a promotion but to York City, into enemy territory- as a spy. He had died there. It had been his last and only lie to his friend, but regardlessly Ben treasured the letter like nothing else. Dead… Tears silently rolled over his cheeks. Nathan was dead, just like Abe or his brother or his father. A sob tore itself from Ben’s throat and he quickly silenced himself with a hand, that he all but pressed into his mouth while he cried. He hadn’t known he had so many tears.
“Can I have more apple broth?”
The question startled Ben more than anything. Quickly, he tried to wipe away the tears, to look normal and pretend to be happy, so the boy would have at least that much normality, but he wasn’t sure how well he managed. “I’m sorry, Thomas, but there aren’t any apples today. I have some bread and cheese for you though.”
The boy’s fist came down on the cot. “I want apples!”
Not a temper tantrum, Ben begged silently, please no! Thomas uncle used to have them, Ben remembered. Even the judge couldn’t stand the boy at these moments and that was something to behold for the man had been literally crazy for Thomas senior. How should he handle this? “Thomas, please!”, Ben tried to reason with the boy. “Just eat your breakfast, will you? Be a good boy.”
But Thomas, sweet Thomas who had been so well behaved yesterday at the Washington’s house, now screamed his displeasure out like a little siren. “No! I want apples.”
Ben bit his lip, his hands suddenly slick with sweat. He fired it was something totally different the boy actually wanted. Apples and breakfast were just the one thing that had all this tipped. “Thomas… Thomas please. We don’t have apples. If I would have one, I would give it to you, I promise, but I don’t have any.”
“Yesterday there were. Why not now? Want apples.”
Yesterday… Yesterday he had been with the Washingtons, a couple of money and status, that could afford these things even in war times. But they weren’t here now. Lady Washington had been kind him, maybe really just spoilt him, and it was not the boys fault to think, that the luxuries he had tasted there would continue. Add to that, that the boy had lost everything, including a home and a well-laid table every day, it probably was only normal, he couldn’t understand the sudden constrains. Ben was well aware of this, of all of this. Thomas was only two after all! But how was Ben supposed to explain this now? How could he make Thomas smile again? Certainly not with dry bread and cheese. Ben pinched the back of his nose and felt his own tears form in his eyes, utter helplessness settling over him. “Thomas, I am sorry. But why don’t you try a bit of the food? Just a bite?”
But Thomas was only hiccupping now, tears rolling down his cheeks without retrains and he looked so sad, so miserable, that Ben was only a heartbeat away from rowing the child back to Setauket. Better a little soldier to the Tories in a war that he was too young to fight in than a miserable child, hungry and lonely. God, what had Anna been thinking? What had anyone of them been thinking? Ben fought against the tears, the helplessness, but it was a losing battle. “You have to eat, Thomas”, he finally managed to say.
“Don’t want to eat!”, Thomas screamed, his high voice piercing into Ben’s ears and then, suddenly very softly: “Want Mommy.”
This undid Ben. A silent sob broke free and soon he was shaken by them, tears running down his face. What had he done? What on earth had he done? “I’m sorry, Thomas. I’m sorry, my boy.”
“Where’s daddy?”
That sob couldn’t even be silenced by the hand Ben had pressed over his mouth again. Abe… Daddy…
“They are gone, Thomas”, he murmured softly, “God, what have I done?” Ben left the whole plate on the bed untouched. no matter the coin it had cost him. His appetite was gone.
With an effort that made the small task look ridiculous, Ben opened the first of his letters, reading over the love letter of a Miss Emma Simmons, a pseudonym of their man in Philadelphia, but he had problems to apply the code of his own design. It took thrice the time to get the message decoded.
Several Congressmen paid for the vote on Washington’s fate and surrender to the British because of a defeat in Boston.
Ben’s brow furrowed. Boston? There was no war in Boston! It was far away from the front- and therefore there was also no continental army in Boston… What… No! He was out of the tent in a heartbeat. He needed to see the general. Now!
“Careful, Major Tallmadge.” The deep baritone of none other than George Washington suddenly rang in his ears as Ben stumbled to the ground. He had, in the truest sense of the word, ran right into the general.
He looked up at the general frozen in place like a deer in the light. “Sir, I apologize sincerely for…”
Washington waved him off and held out a hand for him. “Get up, Major.”
Ben quickly followed the command and, to his great surprise, Washington didn’t bark an execration at him for not being more careful as Ben had expected, but all but cupped his face, studying the tearstained cheeks of his young officer. Concern flickered in his eyes. “Are you in pain, Major?”
Ben swallowed whatever tears and pain he still felt and shook his head, looking at the floor rather than at Washington. Shame was burning in his face and still there were tears on his cheeks. A fine mess he was right now.
“Major?”
The boats of his Excellency were rather fascinating- not that he was actually seeing them. All he was seeing where the faces of the people he had doomed and still Thomas cry for his parents rang in his ears.
It was only when Washington rushed into the tent that Ben realized, that Thomas really was still crying. It hadn’t just been his imagination and now he even failed so rather obviously in this task.
“Hush now, little one, all is right.”
When Ben entered the tent, he saw Washington sitting next to the boy, an arm around the little form and soothing the child- and Thomas did calm down.
“Want mommy, want apples.” Thomas hiccupped again. “Want… want…”
“I know, little one. I know”, murmured Washington into Thomas soft wisps of hair while he hugged the small boy close. His eyes fell to the coat, the boy still had as a second blanket. No snow on it, not even damp. Washington sighted. It was for the better. Ben would kill himself over this boy and still not achieve what he wanted. The untouched plait didn’t escape the general either. Now they were both not eating.
Washington looked up when he heard the major enter and gestured to the chair. “Benjamin. Sit, we have to talk.”
And there it was, what Ben had been dreading. The intelligence he just had received all but forgotten. “Sir.”
Wordlessly, Washington set the plate in Ben’s lap with one hand, the other still stroking young Thomas hair. Ben looked down at the food at reluctantly picked a slice of bread up, chewing on it mechanically, the task of swallowing all but forgotten.
“I came here today to ask something of you, Benjamin.” Washington began, intentionally not using the young man’s rank. He didn’t want to make it an order, it wouldn’t be fair.
Ben looked up from the slice of bread he still held in his fingers and then over to Thomas. So, it had been about the boy. Of course it had been. Naïve, he had been so naïve.
Soothed by Washington and with an empty stomach, Thomas little fingers unsurely came forwards to take a piece of bread for himself of the plate, but Ben simply held the cheese out for him. The bread was hard, too hard for the boy. He would have something better soon. Apples as much as he wanted- and a new mother and father. Why not give him this last thing he was able to give?
“…beat you up over this.” Ben wasn’t sure how much he had missed of Washington’s speech to him, but it didn’t matter anyways, he thought. Ben knew the end already.
“…fine man and you did honorably. You know, that it isn’t possible for Thomas to stay here, don’t you?”
Ben heard the sergeant again, the vicious words, the insult against Washington. An insult that could quickly grow to a more dangerous thing. Special treatment was something they could not have, he was well aware of that. It occurred to Ben a few seconds later, that maybe he should have pleaded with the general, that he should have asked for a favor. He had saved the man many times, bleed and killed for him. It wouldn’t be impossible for Washington to grant this wish. Maybe he should have begged- but he didn’t find it in himself when he looked at Thomas huddled form, leaning into Washington, maybe to seek closeness, maybe only warmth. Did it matter? He thought he had the choice between seeing him suffer here and bringing him back to the care of the man who had seen to his family’s murder. “You can have him”, he whispered.
Washington stopped in the middle of his sentence and starred at Ben. He had played this over in his head many times. He had wondered how his young head of intelligence would react, dreaded this talk more than a hanging or a speech to congress for it could very well destroy the new base of their friendship.
It was an unusual request, of that he had been aware. He had no bonds to the child or his family other than being able to provide for the boy and wishing for a child. He had Ben imagined to be angry, maybe hurt. He had thought about arguments and any other reaction that would match Ben’s temper, the fire the man sometimes had in his eyes, but he had never thought, that Ben would cut through his praise for the very man, a praise Ben had always so actively sought, with a quiet voice and see right to the bottom of his wish.
“Benjamin… Are you certain? You look”, Washington was suddenly in desperate need of a dictionary. The boy looked lost, broken and somehow still relieved. “I will not force this upon you.”
Ben shrugged but he didn’t really meet Washington’s eyes. “It is the best for the boy. Any formalities you will require I will fulfill.”
Washington sighted deeply. That was the kind of talk you had before an execution, but not now. Debating with himself rather it was the right action, he threw caution in the wind and reached for Ben’s hand. “You can always back out of this. We will raise him as a ward. Your child- and your name. Or his family’s name if you want”
Ben looked up from the plate he had been studying while the general spoke and looked at Thomas as if he had to remember him by heart. He had his mother’s bright hair, Ben noticed, a woman he had only ever met so briefly and who only knew him as the monster that had invaded their hometown. What would she think of this? Would she have liked him more, given the circumstances of another first meeting? And Thomas had Abe’s mischievous grin. Abe, who had refused his father’s help for himself but always given in when it was for Thomas best. Ben suddenly wondered if his father had baptized the boy. He wondered about Setauket- and he thought of the war, the next battle, the coming winter and of apples. “No!”, he finally said. “I will give you the boy and my only request in this matter is that you will adopt him properly and treat him like your own- as a farther.”
Washington winced at the mention of these words again. What had he been thinking? Was it his sickness or his temper that had lashed out at the boy this day? At the only person always loyal, always willing to sacrifice himself for the cause, for him. Washington reached for Ben’s other hand, the one that still held onto the dried bread of which he hadn’t eaten more than that one bite. What to do? How to mend this?
Ben stiffened at the touch, but remained silent. Silent yet again, the fiery youth all but gone.
Washington now even wished for an argument. Anything but this broken shell, where he wasn’t able to figure out how to put the pieces back together. It didn’t even occur to him, that it wasn’t his task to do so in the first place. He was Ben’s general after all, nothing more. “I am always there for those dear to my heart.”
Ben nodded and got up, setting the plate aside. Washington briefly wondered if he should hold the young man back, make him talk, but it was of no use he realized. Maybe the return of his friend would give Ben some closure in the whole matter, some assistance that Washington couldn’t give him. He certainly hoped so.
The general blinked surprised when Ben returned with a letter in his hands. “Intelligence out of Philadelphia, sir. I’m afraid, it is rather bad.”
Washington toke the letter with a quick thank-you, scanning it for the intelligence. He paused after reading the report, slowly dropping the letter. “How much do you trust this spy, Major?”
“He has never let me down, sir.”
Washington looked down at the letter again and then up at Ben, a worn expression on his face. “Will this ever end?”
“You will see to it, sir.”
Again this believe, this loyalty. There was even a hint of Ben’s old ardor in his eyes, probably the only good thing that would come of this. “No, Major, we will see to it. Will you defend Boston with me?”
A small smile tugged at the major’s lips as he inclined his head. A sight that filld Washington with a joy he couldn’t explain, not even to himself. “It would be an honor, your Excellency.”
“Good!” Washington stood up, pealing Thomas fingers of the major’s coat. The boy needed it himself after all. “I expect the report of your courier by you soon. We need all the intelligence we can get on this. Till then.” He inclined his head in a gesture of farewell, took Thomas little hand in his own and went off.
“I want ...”
But Ben didn’t hear Thomas wish anymore. He would never hear the voice again. The child would be raised sheltered at Mount Vernont from now on, safe from all the troubles of the world and by the hand of a lovely lady. If he would still have it in himself, he would thank god for this small mercy. He knew, he should do it, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so, no matter how much he knew it was the best for the boy. Ben silently slid to the ground and picked up the wooden ship, that Thomas had forgotten. Ben had carved his mother’s name into it. The Mary.
It was for the best of the boy! But he couldn’t stop the lone tear that made it down his cheek as he went back to his desk to read though the reports and prepare for a new battle to come.