The tension in the room seemed to lessen somewhat as Ben fumbled for another candle in the darkness. The light from the small stove was nearly nonexistent, but Tabitha could just barely make out Ben's silhouette as he sifted through the contents of his desk drawers. "Here," she said finally, pulling a half-burned candle stub from her waist pouch. "This should work."

"Thank you," Ben murmured, and within seconds, the room was flooded with dim, flickering light. "Oh, herethey are," he grumbled, picking up the small box of candlesticks from beside the cot. "Who put them over here?" He sank down onto the small bed, and motioned for Tabitha to do the same. As she pulled the rickety desk chair up beside him, he pulled one of the yellowing candles from the box. "I wrote you," he said after a brief silence. "After you left, I mean. Twice."

"I know," she replied softly. "But I never read them." Upon seeing Ben's confused expression, her mouth twisted into a wry imitation of a smile. "Would you prefer I had? Would it make our situation any easier?"

"No, I suppose not," he sighed, slumping forward to prop his elbows on his knees. Face resting in his hands, he said, "Why are you really here, then?"

"It's as I told you," Tabitha replied. "Aaron is dead. And without my father, or any brothers, or a… a husband to speak of, I would not have been permitted to keep our farm."

Ben glanced up at her for a moment, then redirected his gaze to the floor. "You could easily have married," he commented. "You mentioned a man named O'Brian who had eyes for you."

"Not after word of my engagement spread throughout the parish," Tabitha replied almost bitterly. "I wrote to Sister Anne and Sister Bridget with the announcement. They were thrilled, obviously, and told everyone they could. And why shouldn't they have?" she added as an afterthought. "I was thrilled too. We both were."

Another silence filled the tent, pierced only by the whistling of the wind outside. Ben remained unmoving, eyes fixed on the earthy floor beneath his boots. The steady rise and fall of his chest was the only sign of life until he spoke; softer this time. "Do you still blame me?" he asked. "For the child, I mean?"

Tabitha's mouth thinned slightly as she took a moment to consider her response. "Had you killed that scout as I requested, he would never have returned to attack," she replied finally. "And if I listened to you in the beginning and returned to Baltimore, I would not have been shot." Ben glanced up uncertainly, and Tabitha shrugged. "What happened was a tragedy, Ben. Nothing more, and no one is to blame."

"Is that an apology, then?" Ben asked.

"I never should have blamed you," she replied simply. "I was angry. So angry. But as I said, that is not the reason I'm here." Tabitha sighed heavily. "To be perfectly honest, I had no intention of joining your regiment. I'd planned on joining the 12th Virginia, like your mystery woman's brothers. Requesting a transfer after so traumatizing an event seemed believable enough."

"And the reality?"

Tabitha shrugged. "It's a lot easier to hide around a bunch of blokes who don't know the man whose name I've assumed."

"That, and the 12th has better ale, I hear."

Completely taken off-guard by the sudden joke, Tabitha couldn't help laughing. "Yes, they do," she replied once she caught her breath. "I was sent ahead with some other men to meet General Scott at the farm," she concluded. "I had no idea you'd be with them until right before we arrived. And suggesting a summary execution in lieu of a trial rang so favorably with General Scott that he requested I be permanently transferred to the 2nd Dragoons. I didn't know about any of this until after it was made official."

Ben chewed his lower lip in thought—a trait Tabitha remembered all too well. It was unlikely that he was even aware he was doing it on most occasions, and that—amongst other traits—had been one of the things she found most endearing about him. "How did Caleb come to recruit you?"

"Honestly, I don't think he intended to," she said. "I was skinning one of the rabbits—the same one he just stole—when he found me in the woods. He found out what I am rather fast, and I believe he was going to try and blackmail me into manipulating General Scott for him."

"But you got one over on him," Ben finished matter-of-factly. "Now that he knows you, you do realize you'll never be able to pull the wool over his eyes again?"

"I wouldn't say that," she said with a shrug. "I never really tricked him to begin with." She leaned forward earnestly, and Ben unconsciously found himself mirroring her. "You remember the priest I told you about? The one who raised Aaron and I."

Ben nodded. "Michael Ahearn?"

"Yes, him. There was a game he would play with Aaron and I when we were children. He would keep a handful of sweets in his pockets, and if we could steal one without him noticing, we got to keep it." Tabitha grinned widely. "I had quite the sweet tooth, so I got very good."

Ben shook his head. "A priest who teaches young children to steal?"

"You should have heard the filthy limericks he mixed in with his sermons," she laughed. "He said it was to make sure people were paying attention. His lessons proved very advantageous, though, as I doubt anyone short of a professional would have been able to slip that letter out of Brewster's waistband without him noticing."

"That's probably why he recruited you in the first place."

"When I deduced the contents of the letter, I had no hopes of being 'recruited' into anything." Tabitha leaned back in her chair again, legs crossed. "I was just hoping to make him nervous enough to back off and let me be."

"His mistake," Ben commented dryly. "I'm certain he'll see the error of his ways."

"Doubtful. From what I've seen, once he starts down a path, he tends to just keep going." Tabitha mimed a walking motion with her index and middle finger.

Ben arched an eyebrow. "Maybe you don't know him as well as you think," he said pointedly. "Because if you did, you would know not to assume he'll act in any predictable manner." Tabitha frowned slightly at his tone, but he still spoke as though he hadn't noticed. "And therein lies the problem. You don't know him. "

"I don't see how my familiarity with Lieutenant Brewster has anything to do with... well, anything."

"He probably hasn't explained to you how the process works, so allow me. Caleb is my courier. I have an agent—well, two now, it seems—who signal whenever they have information. Caleb brings it back to me, and I forward it to the appropriate recipients."

Tabitha sighed. "An excellent system, but I'd gathered as much already."

"Well then, let me get to the part that seems to have eluded you." Tabitha's frown deepened, and she met his stony gaze with a look of her own. "Caleb is a vital part of our system. Arguably the most important part. And he is useful to me because I can trust him to be unpredictable. He's difficult to track, he knows his way around a boat better than any man I've ever met, and he's no pushover, as you seem to think he is. My man in Setauket—"

"Abraham," Tabitha corrected boldly, face lined with contempt.

"—is useful because I can trust his fidelity and connections in his community." Her interruption was ignored. "In a figurative sense of the word, he's invisible."

Tabitha picked up the letter from the center of the desk, and held it out to Ben. "If trust is the issue here, why would you consider allowing a girl you've never met into a mission as important as this?"

He took the letter from her and tossed it back on the desk. "Because Caleb trusts her. And so does Abraham. You, on the other hand," His voice lowered slightly as he stood from the cot. "I've seen you shoot a man in the face without a moment's hesitation. You have no grasp of the concept of mercy, you advise executions without a trial, and your entire purpose is one of self-preservation and revenge."

"This is war," came the stiff reply. "I hardly require your approval in my methodology."

Ben laughed humorlessly. "Oh, but that's where you're wrong, Lieutenant," he said. "You might have been able to put Caleb on edge, but I promise you now that it will not work on me. And I will not allow a reckless killer with an insatiable thirst for blood to be in any way responsible for the safety of our contacts."

"You know, Captain," Tabitha replied, rising to her feet as well. "If I didn't know better, I would assume you're actually angry with me for other reasons."

Her pores seethed defiance. Ben could practically feel it rolling off her in waves as she stood barely an inch away from him, breath hot on his face. "I could list a thousand reasons to be angry with you," he snapped.

"Name one."

There was no passion; none of the fire that had consumed their bodies what felt like an eternity ago. Only rage. Their lips did not meet so much as they collided, and smooth planes of flesh where their hands had once ghosted lovingly across were now marred by contusions and filth and rough cloth. Ben's teeth sank into Tabitha's lip, and she ripped her mouth away before slamming her forehead into his face with a loud crack.

Blood poured from Ben's nose to match the crimson trails bubbling from Tabitha's mouth, and it just isn't enough. Her knee collided with his stomach, and he doubled over. Tabitha briefly considered kneeing him in the face too for good measure, but then his hand shot up and curled around her throat. His eyes seemed somewhat darker as he glared up at her from his stooped position, and as he stood, she could clearly see the urge to kill on his face.

"Try it," she managed to splutter out, and she allowed herself to fall backwards, legs pushing up as she went down and almost effortlessly flipping Ben onto his back behind her. She gasped loudly as the air filled her lungs, but then the hands were back. He wasn't finished yet either, it seemed. Her first punch landed on the underside of his jaw, at the same time her knee collided once again with his stomach.

A single drop fell on her face, and with a start, she realized there were tears in his eyes, slowly mingling with the blood on his face. "I loved you," he hissed.

"And I…. you…" she managed in reply, and suddenly his hands were gone. Her sharp gasp was quickly followed by a coughing fit. She rolled onto her side and slowly pushed herself to her knees. Ben's chokehold was replaced instead by a hesitant embrace. "We can't go back to that, can we?" he said.

"No."

They sat in silence for a few moments, breathing heavily, surrounded by destruction and the last flickers of candlelight. "Can you answer me a question?" he asked finally. "Really answer, I mean. None of your usual shit." Tabitha nodded silently. "If the child… if our child had survived… would you still have left?"

Tabitha's pulse quickened, and thinking of the newborn squirming in Sister Bridget's arms—usually such a calming memory—left her feeling slightly ill. "Yes," she whispered, unable to look Ben in the eye. "This life… whatever it is we had planned… it would never have worked for us. I couldn't see it then, but now I realize we would have been miserable."

Ben sighed heavily and slumped against her shoulder. "You fight like a man," he winced finally, and Tabitha shook her head.

"No, I fight like a woman," she replied. "A woman who fights better than a man."

"We'll need someone like that." Tabitha pulled back, and saw the look of resignation on Ben's face. "I don't trust you," he continued. "But you hate the British more than anyone I've encountered, so I suppose I shouldn't call your loyalty into question." For a moment, Ben seemed lost for words as Tabitha stared back expectantly. "I trust your hatred."

Tabitha let out a short bark of a laugh. "Thanks to His Majesty's army looting and burning under the guise of maintaining order, Aaron felt obligated to join the Continental army so he could protect me. Had those lobsters simply let us be, my brother would still be alive!" Her voice was harsh, and she felt the telltale prickle of tears gathering in her eyes. "My hatred is only thing about me you should trust, Captain."