It was after sundown by the time James made it back to the VIP tent. He'd enjoyed a long conversation with Tallmadge and a friend of his, a Mr. Caleb Brewster. Brewster was fiercely patriotic, and more so than that, he was loyal to his friends and to General Washington. Tallmadge, who wasn't more than three or four years older than James, had been very careful in what he was willing to reveal about his work as Washington's head of intelligence. But he had also supplied James with more than enough information for a good story. James had even had the pleasure of meeting the eccentric Nathaniel Sackett, self-taught cryptologist, and keeper of all things spy. To James' surprise, Sackett had been entrusted with the care of David Bushnell's submarine, the Turtle. That brought back some memories.

As James entered the tent, he saw Henri was already sound asleep. He had expected the French boy to be skulking around camp, mooching off of soldiers' dinners. He walked over to the curtain separating him from Sarah and gave it a tap.

"You awake, Sarah?"

"Yes," Sarah answered.

"You decent?"

"Yes, James, you can come in."

James followed her invitation. Sarah was sitting on her cot, going over Temple's letter, an unfinished letter to her mother sitting at her side atop her diary.

"So, when are you leaving to meet up with Arnold?" James asked.

Sarah gave a slight shrug. "Colonel Hamilton hasn't sent for me to help him edit his letter."

"Well, when he does, I can come along and help you escape if need be."

Sarah turned red, drawing a smirk from James.

"Really, James, you are shameless!"

"You catch a lot of the guys' eyes," James said nonchalantly.

Sarah gave him a sly grin. "Jealous much?"

James blushed. "Who, me? Nah! Why would I be jealous? I mean, really, you're an independent, wealthy woman whose father is a well respected British officer. That basically makes you free to do whatever you want, go almost anywhere you want..." he lowered his voice and turned away, "...court whoever you want."

Sarah raised an eyebrow. "You are jealous."

"Am not!" James crossed his arms and pouted.

Sarah fingered the pendant that hung around her neck. It was a gift from James, made from his mother's ring. It had been the one memento he'd had from his late parents. That he'd sacrificed it to replace her locket had demonstrated conclusively that he had taken an almost immediate liking to her, despite their sharp differences on the issue of American independence. She was hesitant to broach the subject to James, especially since he put on a show of having no interest in her. But it wasn't difficult to see how uncomfortable he became when other men showered her with attention. Temple was, so far, the only person with whom James had nearly come to blows, but that might have been helped by the fact that both Temple and James spent most of their time around Sarah, at least until Temple joined his grandfather on a diplomatic mission to France.

Sarah sighed. She couldn't let the subject linger unaddressed, like the proverbial elephant in the room.

"James, about Temple..."

She was interrupted by a rapping on one of the tent poles.

"Excuse me," came Hamilton's voice, "Miss Phillips? I've finished that letter to General Arnold, if you'd like to look it over."

"Come in, Colonel," Sarah called.

Hamilton obeyed, joining James and Sarah behind the curtain. He nodded toward James. "I apologize if I'm interrupting anything."

"No, nothing at all," James said quickly, relieved to have been rescued from whatever would have followed, "about Temple."

Hamilton handed his letter to Sarah. "If it's to your satisfaction, Miss Phillips, General Washington said I can escort you to General Arnold's headquarters in New York first thing tomorrow."

Sarah read over the letter. "This is...quite good, Colonel. You've certainly made Congress sound much more polite than General Washington implied they were."

"A challenge, I have to admit," Hamilton said. "I'm not known for my tact in my own writing, but I've had to master it for the purpose of managing his excellency's correspondence."

"Well, if I know Benedict Arnold, nothing will completely soften this blow to his ego. I would never dream of speaking negatively about him, but I do fear his pride will lead him to do something rash one of these days, and I don't want to see him get hurt."

"You know, Miss Phillips, my old patron in New York City once said the same thing about me, almost verbatim. Of course, that was after I'd dragged him along with me to steal British cannons."

"You didn't."

Hamilton puffed out his chest. "I did. Under fire. It was some of my finest work, really."

"Okay, now, that's a story!" James said with a grin.

Suddenly, there was another knock at the tent pole.

"Miss Phillips, it's Corporal Wolf-Hutchinson. I just wanted to see how you're settling in."

James rolled his eyes. "Come on in, Udney."

When Udney appeared, he looked around the now crowded room. "Oh, I didn't know you were...in a meeting. I'll stop back tomorrow."

"Oh, it's quite alright," Sarah said. "We were just discussing a letter we need to deliver tomorrow."

"So you'll be leaving?"

Sarah nodded. "Colonel Hamilton has orders to escort me to General Arnold's headquarters so that I may help deliver him some less than pleasant news."

"Oh, well, if you need any assistance in that, I'm sure my CO can spare me."

"We've got it covered, Corporal," Hamilton said, somewhat curtly.

James suppressed a laugh. "Wow, Sarah, it's probably a good thing Temple isn't here. This could get messy fast."

Sarah turned beet red. "James Hiller!"

An awkward silence settled over the tent as the men glanced uncertainly at one another. After a few moments, they began speaking at once.

"Perhaps..."

"Maybe it's best if I..."

"Yeah, I'm gonna just..."

But before any of them could finish the thought, Sarah jumped up, pushed past all of them and fled the tent, leaving the three boys feeling very sheepish.

Udney spoke first. "I'll go check on her." He turned to leave, but Hamilton clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"Stay where you are, Corporal." He turned to James. "You ought to follow her."

James gaped at the officer. "Me?"

Hamilton gave him a stern look. "You've known her longest, and it's abundantly clear you care about her. Which means she trusts you far more than she ever could either of us."

"Yeah, I do know her best," James said. "That's why I don't wanna bother her right now."

"You two need to talk this out."

James raised an eyebrow. "If you're interested in her, why don't you talk to her?"

Hamilton sighed. "Look, I'll freely admit, I'm a sucker for a pretty face. But I also know when to back off, contrary to all appearances in battle and politics. You've had your eye on her for a long time, James. Anyone can see that. But more so than that, you're her friend. Whatever she needs to hear, you know what it is, and it would mean more coming from you than from either of us." He finished his speech with a smirk. "And if she flat out rejects you, I'll make my move."

"I hope you don't mind a little non-com competition, sir," Udney said. "But he's right, James. You're Sarah's friend, and you've known her longest, so not only do you get a head start, but you know what she needs right now."

James glanced back and forth between the two men. Finally he sighed in resignation. "Alright, I'll go see how she's doing."

He figured he wouldn't have far to look. Sarah typically went down to the stable when she was upset. Sure enough, he found her at the paddock, stroking Caesar's nose, deep in thought. The gray stallion leaned into her, one back hoof cocked, totally relaxed.

James cautiously approached. "Hey, Sarah."

"What do you want, James?"

James winced at the harsh tone. He took a deep breath and began his hastily cobbled together apology. "I'm sorry about what happened back there. We...I...was wrong to make you so uncomfortable like that."

"Yes, you were," Sarah said. "Why did you do that?"

"I wasn't thinking. Or...I was, but I was only thinking about...or trying not to think about..." he fumbled. He wasn't sure where to go from here. "Maybe you were right. What you said earlier. Maybe I'm...just a little...jealous." He finished with a hushed tone.

Sarah turned to look at him. James studies his shoes, kicking at something imaginary.

"I've always been kind of...awkward around girls. And having you living in the print shop has kind of forced me to figure out how to talk to girls. I guess I've always sort of been afraid that...no one would be interested in an orphan who can barely hash out a half decent news story. I mean, even Hamilton has a commission and some heroic stories to make people forget his background. I don't exactly have that. And Temple, well, he's the grandson of Benjamin Franklin! It's hard to find a better bragging right than that. Udney's got pretty much the same opportunity Hamilton does, and he's probably got a more attractive background anyway. Basically, they all beat the socks off of someone like me. I don't stand a chance. Especially not with someone of high birth like you."

Sarah blinked away tears. She'd never seen James so vulnerable. She wasn't certain he'd had the capacity to make himself vulnerable like this. She stepped away from Caesar and approached James, who kept his eyes down. She clasped her hands at her waist and studied her fellow journalist for a moment.

Finally, she said, "James, thank you."

"For what?"

"For finally being honest with me. With yourself." She reached for his hand. "I know it's not always easy, especially when you've grown up believing that the only way to get anywhere in life is to put on a facade of toughness. And if I may be honest, I find your willingness to finally take off that mask to be much more attractive than all of the flirting of those other three boys."

James gaped at her. "R-really?"

Sarah blushed. "James Hiller, I would much rather spend my time with someone who has become a close friend, despite our differences, than I would around three pretentious young men who are so brazen in their intentions. You've always respected me as a lady. I'm not saying the others don't, but they do see me as a prize to be won. You don't. You see me as an individual. Independent. And...I deeply appreciate that."

James smiled. "Thanks, Sarah. You don't know what that means to me."

Sarah's hand flew to her pendant. "I think I have some idea," she said.

"So, are you going with Hamilton tomorrow to see General Arnold?"

Sarah sighed. "Actually, if it's all the same to you, James, I think I would rather go on to Boston. I would like to spend some time with Abigail Adams. Get her advice as an older woman, more experienced in matters of the heart."

James shrugged. "That might be a good idea. And I know who can take you. Caleb Brewster. He's a bit crude, but he's got his eye on another girl, so he won't add to the problems you already have with four boneheads. And he's headed that direction anyway. Special assignment."

Sarah chuckled at the "bonehead" comment. "That sounds perfect. But for now, I need to get some rest." She gave James a quick peck on the cheek, drawing an immediate crimson blush from the other teen. "Good night, James."

With that, Sarah let go of James' hand and headed for the tent, leaving the blond journalist standing stunned in the starlight, his hand going to his cheek as he processed what had just happened.

Yeah. That happened.


The End.


AN: So, that's it. This was intended to be a one-shot, but in true Hamilton fashion, it kind of got away from me. As always, review, review, review!