A/N: This is a little flirtatious drabble I concocted when I noticed that the wig Edmund Hewlett wore after his capture had a tiny braid in the back. In researching wigs of that time, I learned the pigtail was called a queue and that for men it sometimes was symbolic of the length of...well, you can guess.

Back of the Queue was originally created for a challenge on livejournal's tv_universe.
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Hewlett didn't know how she did it. Well, it would have been easy the first time during the weeks he was held captive by the rebels….

His wigs were very standard, two curls on each side with a black ribbon securing the queue in the back. But when had escaped his captors and returned to Whitehall, something had happened to his remaining wig. Instead of the smooth sweep back to the ribbon, his queue had acquired two small braids, one on each side, which lay behind each of his ears. He hadn't noticed it the first time he wore the wig, as weakened by his ordeal, he had required assistance to dress. His only coherent thought that night had been to return Anna to Whitehall and insure her safety. It wasn't until the next morning he noticed the braids and puzzled over them. He had almost scolded his aide thinking it wasn't his wig. After assuring himself that it was indeed his, he decided to wear it to see who might confess to tampering and why.

Nothing happened. At least not right away. Things remained quiet in and outside the house as he awaited the return of Corporal Easton. It was just as well. He welcomed the serenity. Weeks held captive in the raw winter storms with only a rough wool blanket in which to wrap himself had taken their toll. Now without the basic struggle to survive, he was exhausted at the end of the day and slept as though dead. He was also late to rise.

Each morning when he went to the wig stand, he noticed some change had been made to the hairpiece. The lavender scented powder he favoured, now seemed to be scented with orange. The braid become bigger one day, then another day it was split into two small braids each side. Most recently it was three braids each side. He wore it in every configuration in which he found it, smiling broadly with delight as he put it on. There was only one person in the world who would do this. The subtle sweet game made him the happiest he could remember being in a long time.

Anna never made any sign that she noticed the changes and he responded in kind. Yesterday the braids had been removed and there was just a residual wave in the hair. He immediately worried that she had lost interest in playing. Maybe it was time he acknowledged her intimate attentions, but they hadn't been alone in days, with either the Woodhulls or his men close by. It was fine. He was not normally a patient man but was completely out of his depth with affairs of the heart. He was just happy to be alive and be with her. She seemed content to spend her spare time with him.

He awoke hearing her voice downstairs and went with anticipation to his wig resting atop its stand. No, she had not lost interest in him. This was the boldest alteration yet. Fastened carefully to the lining of the wig, where they would fall behind each of his ears, were the tiniest rich brown braids. His look of shock reflected back from the mirror. There was nothing subtle about this. He could tuck her hair up between his own and the wig lining and keep her delicious secret. Or he could let the braids lay conspicuously against the white hairs of his queue.

o~o~o~o~o~o~o

"Good morning, Mrs. Strong," he spoke to her as he came down the stairs, nodding briefly to his guard in the doorway. Anna was in the foyer preparing to leave for the day.

"Good morning, Major. I hope you're feeling better," she smiled, innocently turning her face up to him. Her lips parted and surprise spread quickly to her eyes followed with heat and colour to her cheeks. She stuttered, "You-you're looking very well today." It was very rare to see Anna react so visibly. Clearly she had expected her braids to be hidden.

"As are you," he replied politely with a broadening smile that lit up his eyes. It was delightful to see he was the one causing her discomfort after the many times he had stumbled over his words and blushed in her presence.

"Mrs. Strong, would you like to join me in some star-gazing this evening when your work is finished? I will have my men set up the telescope. Perhaps we can create a starry queue." He raised his eyebrows and with a slight bow waved his arm heavenward, looking carefully for her reaction to his turn of phrase.

Without missing a beat, she replied, "That would be lovely Major. I do hope it's a long queue. I look forward to it. Good day!" she called back to him as she stepped quickly out the door.

Once again the tables were turned and it was his own face that was heating up to crimson. He was learning to never underestimate Anna Strong.