A/N: I am indebted to my wonderful prereader and beta: Wuogkat and MaleficentKnits, respectively. They are both wonderful and patient. As for ownership, Jasper Whitlock belongs to S. Meyer. P. G. T. Beauregard belongs to history. The rest belongs to my overactive imagination.

And to my readers, very soon your patience will be rewarded. In the coming chapters Jasper will be off the battlefield and into his more "normal" life. I hope you enjoy. Please review and share your thoughts!

April 6, 1862

"You're late," Beauregard said as Major Whitlock entered the church.

"My deepest apologies, sir. I made my way to witness the field and front lines personally." Jasper could feel the frustration in Beauregard's voice and demeanor.

"I didn't give you any such order. That's what I have other officers for. They're managing their own reconnaissance," he said very matter-of-factly.

"Yes'sir," Jasper drawled naturally. "It shant happen again, sir."

"Well, since you were down there, make yourself useful. What did you see?" Beauregard spoke in the same, obviously irritated tone .

This was a difficult question for the Major as he had not actually been down on the battlefield for the purpose of reconnaissance, but to satisfy his own curiosity regarding the more intimate details of combat. His revelations and understandings, while valuable to him personally, did absolutely nothing for the benefit of the General strategically or anecdotally. Certainly there was no way that he could

divulge that he had been giving comfort to the Union wounded, much less that he risked his own life for what amounted to a personal favor.

"Union sentries are surprisingly close to our lines," he attempted to glean whatever useful information he could from his encounter. "I'd place them no more than fifty yards from the Sunken Road."

"Hmmmmm..." Beauregard uttered as he shifted some papers around on his desk. "I've got a report here from Gen. Bragg stating that their lines are much further back... to the tune of two hundred yards."

The General sat there looking down at the paperwork, but clearly looking for a response.

"Yes'sir," Jasper filled the silence, "but I feel quite cert'in they are doing there own reconnaissance as much as anything else. Dare I say, sir, that we might well expect an advance tomorrow morning."

Jasper could feel Beauregard's displeasure, but what he did not know was the object of that displeasure. Was it the news? Perhaps it was his prediction. Jasper simply could not tell regardless of how much he focused his energy.

"Hmph..." the General sounded again. Then, after a deep inhalation, "I don't think so. They're going to bide their time tonight and then retreat in the morning. We'll just provide the encouragement."

"Sir," Whitlock interjected, "with all due deference, I must disagree. I've been closer to the line than..."

Beauregard gave him a look and simply raised one finger, but not his arm. The intent and impending order was painfully clear. Jasper may have disagreed with his commanding officer's assessment, but he understood the chain of command. He stood there silently waiting to be called upon.

"Captain!" the General called. In a moment, a young man only slightly older than Jasper came in from outside. His cut and demeanor reeked of the Academy. Clearly, this was a West Point product, and most likely one of the last to come through before secession. Beauregard picked up a small stack of five envelopes and handed them to the young officer with instructions to deliver these to the five subordinate generals in their respective camps.

Jasper, was somewhat surprised. Although this errand could easily be done by any member of the General's staff, it was something that was normally entrusted to him as aide-de-camp. Jasper watched the captain dutifully stow the envelopes away and take off with haste.

"Sit down," Beauregard requested as soon as the captain had cleared the door. "Gentleman," he then announced to the various other officers scurrying about the room, "give me a moment."

The General was similar to Jasper in that he knew how to lead men in a manner that made them know exactly what was wanted and expected without having to give every detail of his orders. This was important because the one-roomed church, although sufficient for coordinating the current battle, it offered little privacy. The other officers dutifully removed themselves, affording Beauregard and Whitlock the privacy requested.

"I'll need you to deliver this to Hébert," Beauregard stated as he leaned forward pushing a sealed letter partway across the desk toward the Major.

"But sir..." Jasper was completely shocked by this order. "General Hébert is down in Galveston," he responded incredulously.

"I know."

The simplicity of this response only added to the insult and hurt that Jasper was feeling.

"Surely there is no need to send me on such an errand, sir," Jasper was searching for the right words.

"Tis a letter, personal in nature, and I trust none other with such a charge."

"With all due deference, General, I am of greater use than that of a post man," Jasper could sense the futility of his arguments, and moved from imploring to being obstinate. "Use me in any manner you see fit, but there is no need to send me three states for the purpose of a personal errand."

Beauregard could sense Whitlock's frustration, and cut to the point. Producing another sealed letter from amid the maps on the desk and put it next the first. Jasper could easily read Maj. J. Whitlock written clearly on the front.

"General," Jasper stood in protest and demanded, "what have I done to deserve this?"

"You have been a wonderful aide, but your services are no longer needed here."

"I have been nothing, if not loyal and able, sir," Jasper was slowly getting more aggressive, "there is no need to dispatch me as any common soldier. If this was because my reprieve took a few minutes more than granted..."

"Your tardiness," Beauregard interrupted, "provided me with nothing more than the time I needed to write your letter of dispatch!" The General was now speaking with the same frustration and force that Jasper had used.

Jasper stood for a moment allowing those words to sink in. He racked his mind with torment wondering what he might have done to be fired from Beauregard's staff.

After an awkward pause, Jasper finally responded, "If I failed in any of duties, or not performed to expectations, I would have appreciated the courtesy of being informed so that I could correct any such mistakes." He was no calmer inside, but he knew that he must bring his outward appearance into check.

"Honestly, Major, your performance and sense of duty of have remained nothing shy of exemplary." Beauregard seemed to be imitating Whitlock. His inner distress was evident, even if his outer appearance was cooling.

"Then why, sir, are you sending me home?" he implored.

"I've always known you to get along famously with the general ranks. However it seems queer to me that a man with such rapport would fail to recognize the speed with which gossip and stories spread amongst them."

Jasper realized that this was all because he had struck Sergeant Adams. He had all but forgotten of that incident as so much had happened to him that evening. Although it had occurred within the past hour, to him the encounter seemed to have been a thousand nights before. As this episode swept through his conscience, he dropped his head, and stood there as a beaten man.

"I don't know why you would've hit Adams, but I've heard enough about him to know that he's a good Sergeant." Beauregard's demeanor had changed again; he now seemed saddened by the shift in discussion. Had Jasper been paying closer attention to the scenario as it played out, he would have recognized that the General was actually mimicking his every feeling. Clearly, these two officers were sailing this emotional voyage together.

"Please understand, Major, that I hold you in the highest regards personally. However, I cannot afford the liability of having you on my staff any longer."

There was a noticeable and awkward pause between the two men before Beauregard finally broke the silence.

"... unless, of course, you wish to enlighten me as to why you assaulted the Sergeant."

Jasper Whitlock was now truly at a loss for words. No answer, no matter how carefully phrased or crafted, would satisfy Beauregard. Was now the time to fess up to having found the largest loophole in military service? Could he tell the General that he wanted to send the Sergeant home, but didn't have the authority to release him from duties? What lie would have been plausible? Any lie would have easily been countermanded with countless witnesses.

In his despair, Jasper stood there staring silently at his commanding officer, who sat just as stoically.

"It is a shame," the General finally spoke up, "you have proven one of the ablest aides with whom I have ever worked."

Understanding that this was his dismissal, Jasper stepped forward and collected the two letters from the desk. One was his official discharge, and the other was a personal correspondence with Whitlock's commanding officer back in Texas.

"Come by in the morning prior to your departure," Beauregard added as Jasper picked up the envelopes, "you may collect a Letter of Marque* before you leave."

"Sir?"

"Letter of Marque, just in case you are stopped."

"No sir... I meant 'in the morning'?"

"Ah, well, tis no need for you to loiter," Beauregard answered a somewhat dismissively. "Plus the correspondence is dated."

"But sir," Jasper was nearly pleading now, "you will need all help available to you! Why dismiss me before this engagement is complete?"

"It is, Whitlock. It is." Beauregard was speaking sternly, and for the first time that evening, the two men were not on the same emotional plane. "This battle is as good as won. I'm not taking anything away from your service, but there is no need to waste your time. It'll be nothing but running a few orders, then filling in reports."

The Major stood there unsatisfied with this answer.

"Do you really wish to tarry for dictation?" the General finally asked.

Jasper, realizing that there was no way around this decision, decided to swallow his pride and follow orders. He snapped to attention, saluted, and said "by your leave, General."

Beauregard stood up, returned the salute, and gave a nod without taking his eyes off of the Major. This simple, silent communication has always seemed to say more between men than words. With this, Jasper turned and left. As he exited the chapel, the other junior officers immediately returned to their posts and the church was again buzzing with activity as they took care of the responsibilities of preparing for the morning's actions.

It only took a few minutes before Jasper returned to his tent, but in his depression, everything seemed to take longer. Here it was, already late evening, and all he had to do was prepare for his morning departure rather than prepare for battle. It was an uneasy feeling for which he was unprepared.

He took a seat in front of his tent and sat there for a moment thinking about everything, but simultaneously, about nothing. That was when the idea came to him. He went into the tent and rummaged around to find some paper, his quill, and ink.

Moment's later, Major Whitlock was just like the enlisted men, sitting there, in front of his tent, scripting a letter as his last act for the day. He dipped the quill, put the pen to paper, and wrote:

Gen. P. G. T. Beauregard,

It has been with great pleasure that I have served faithfully and dutifully as adjutant. While I do not have reason or logic with which I can explain the purpose of my actions, I trust that you will recognize that they were not intended to bring dishonour or disrespect upon you or your staff. My careless actions rest upon me alone.

I shall, however, remain culpable for any act that is unbecoming of an officer. As such, I shall take my leave, but I shall not forget that which I have learned under your command.

What is more, Sir, I shall remain prepared to return to your side should my services be needed again. Until that time, I shall gratefully remain,

Your Obedient Servant,**

Maj. Jsp. Whitlock

Jasper then folded the letter into thirds, and started packing up any non-essential gear. His plan was to depart decently before sunrise so that he could minimize his embarrassment of being relieved of his post. As he traveled exclusively on horseback, his total gear comprised one bag, bedroll, and tent. Fortunately, he was able to stow his personal effects rather quickly.

After this excruciatingly long day, Jasper found surprising pleasure in removing his boots. He had not realized how sore his feet were until now. Removing his uniform coat and dropping his suspenders to his side, Jasper finally laid down to sleep. For him, Shiloh was over.

Or so he thought.

A/N

*Letter of Marque – this is a paper or order giving the carrier authority to cross international borders. In this case, Jasper would have received one for the purpose of crossing a border should US troops have conquered lands south of Tennessee.

** "Your Obedient Servant" - although this is not modern phrasing, during the Civil War this was the most common and expected closing from a junior officer in official correspondence with a senior officer.