Chapter: Seven

Author: Iwillsoaronthewingsofeagles...aka...MLBL

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from The Patriot. I do own Emily Brandon, her family, and any other characters I might incorporate in this story.

It's amazing how sometimes things don't go the way you plan. I most definitely had not planned on going back in time. I would never have dreamed of it. In fact who would have? Well...I suppose it'd be more accurate to say I only ever thought going back in time would be the thing of my dreams. Yet here I was.

I believe that there is Someone who takes care of me, and knows what is best for me even when I don't see that. After things happen, whether hardships or good times, we come out either as a better person or with a lesson learned, hopefully. With an event as big as going back in time, a part of me said this would be the case as well, but in the midst of everything, this time it was hard to see the lesson or even learn it. After all, to learn you must have at least a small notion of what you're supposed to be learning. But as the days passed, Thomas was gaining his strength. The rest of the Martin children fell into a routine. Daily life, however, was overshadowed by what they had lost. Their home, and their father and older brother to this war. By now I recognized the lesson to learn in appreciating the sacrifices of those who came before me, as well as appreciating just how easy my normal life was. I missed my family dearly, and I felt absolutely useless. As each day went by, I became increasingly frustrated by my situation, no matter the kindness of Miss Selton and Martin children. Well, most of them. I had taken to avoiding Thomas, as much as possible.

I was mostly successful, with the exception of dinner time. He had gained enough strength to be at the dinner table. The first day he'd come downstairs I had been the last one to the dinner table. I was in such a hurry, I rushed to take my seat next to Meg just as I did every evening, only to look up and find Thomas staring right across from me. Throughout the entire dinner I had to take care not to be looking at him. By the end of dinner, I couldn't leave quickly enough.

Tonight was no different. I made my escape towards the stairs as quickly as I could manage. Just as I got to the stairs, however, I ran into Thomas. I looked up wide-eyed. How had the practically invalid houseguest beat me to the stairs? I sucked in a breath, acknowledged him, and made to move past him.

He cleared his throat, as if to gain my attention. "Would you like to go for walk with me?" I looked up to find his mouth turned up into a smile, flashing his white teeth.

I let out the breath, almost feeling deflated. I had wanted to be alone. "But should you, already?" I grasped for an excuse.

"I think I'm fine. We'll just have to walk a little slower, and not too far." He continued smiling.

"Uh, very well then," as the words slipped past my lips, I found the panicky me in my mind ranting about what a moron I was.

We continued down the stairs and out of the house in silence. We were a little way from the house when Thomas finally spoke. "Aunt Charlotte told me you saved my life." As he spoke, I glanced up at him sharply, "I wanted to thank you." He was looking straight ahead, and I looked away quickly.

"She told you. I didn't know. I didn't really save your life. The doctor did." I offered an embarrassed smile, feeling a little more than my usual awkwardness.

"Really?" he answered sarcastically. "Both Aunt Charlotte and Meg were pretty clear about exactly what you did. From attempting to push the gun out of aim, to stopping my wound from bleeding out. In their opinion you saved my life, and I must say I agree. They also told me that you didn't leave my side until the day I woke up." He was still smiling, but now there was a twinkle in his eye and the smile broadened. I felt my face warm, and I could hear my mom teasing me about blushing.

"I...well, I didn't have much to do." I shrugged my shoulders, but as realization of harshness of my words dawned on me, I winced a little.

"Oh? You are still holding to this claim that you didn't save my life?" He didn't seem any less amused so maybe it wasn't too harsh. "My question is why you've made yourself so scarce now that I can be a better conversationalist." I glanced up, expecting him to take it back and make fun of me somehow. He didn't. Did he really wish for my company? Confusion muddled my brain, and I muttered softly, "I helped... I guess."

"Well, that seems about all I'll get of a confession" He said playful. "Still, thank you." I looked up at him again, and found him gazing intently back. The light from the moon reflected in his green eyes making them more brilliant than I'd ever seen them before, and with a hint of gray. My heart beat faster inside of my chest, and I quickly looked away. Though it was dark, the light from the moon also allowed me to see the trees with the Spanish moss I liked so much.

"Why don't you just admit that you saved my life? It's nothing to be ashamed of." The playfulness in his voice had faded.

I bit back the defensiveness that rose up in me. "I know it's nothing to be ashamed of." I sighed. "I can see that I helped save your life, and I appreciate your gratitude. I suppose I just don't want it to be misplaced, and not only that, I have never been particularly graceful in social situations of any kind, much less in receiving thanks or any form of praise." I dared to look up at him, but avoided looking into his eyes. Understanding seemed to cross his features, and he smiled.

"I see. Very well, as you wish." He hung his head as though in defeat and sighed dramatically. The playfulness was back. " Shall we go back now?" He motioned towards the house, wincing, as though the movement affected his wound. I gently nudged his hand down, "You should take more care. You are not fully recovered just yet."

He cleared his throat, "yes, that would probably be best." We turned around and started making our way back. We made small talk, commented on how beautiful the moon was, and I shared that the harvest moon was my favorite. He chuckled as he shared a childhood story. In the end, it was a pleasant walk. He never once asked about my past, background or any other types of prying questions. I felt like a sort of truce was silently declared between the two of us, but for some reason, it didn't set me anymore at ease. If anything, it made my heart beat faster, and the feeling in the pit of my stomach worse. We said goodnight, and I made my way to the bedroom. I quickly prepared for bed, and climbed in, only then realizing how sleepy I was. Closing my eyes, I fell easily asleep, my last thought: his brilliant green eyes.


The next day went by quickly. I'd avoided Thomas a little less, but still maintained my distance. Mostly I spent the day with Meg and Susan. Next thing I knew, it was time to get ready for supper.

I went up to the room and put on one of the dresses Charlotte had for me. It was a pale pink with silver flowers. Once again, I pulled my hair back into a bun. Meg adjusted some pieces of hair out of the bun to frame my face, softening the sharp lines of my features. We then headed downstairs.

I sat down at the table, once again facing Thomas. I smiled briefly, before we bowed our head for grace. Thomas spoke, and I felt a shiver go down my back at the sound of his voice. Once he was finished we began serving ourselves.

"When is Father coming back?" Susan put a roll of bread on her plate as if nothing had happened. I heard a spoon clatter on a plate as everyone stared at her in surprise.

"We don't know, dear." Charlotte answered calmly. I blinked twice and looked up to find an equally astonished Thomas looking at his little sister with so much love in his eyes. My heart skipped beat, and I looked away quickly. Once everyone recovered from their shock, they all fell into a brief celebration that Susan had spoken. She acted as though it was no big deal, though I believe she relished the extra attention. I looked on quietly, with a smile on my face. It was nice to see this family, their togetherness. How they celebrated and rallied together. It made me miss my own so much. I hoped I could get away soon. I wanted so badly to get out into the fresh air for some alone time. I needed to cry.

Finally we were excused, and I hurried out of the house, hoping no one would see me. I went off without even paying attention where I was going. I needed to get away. I came to a clearing, away from the house, just as I lost my breath, and I let my guard down. Hugging my arms to my self, I cried out, as the tears streamed down my face. In my mind I could see my family; my mom's tender smile, my dad's joyful self reflected in his eyes, and my little brother's mischievous little face. My memory of my mom's face contorted into worry. Worry for me, because she didn't know where I was. Daddy too, but if I knew anything about my dad, and I did, he wouldn't show it. He'd be strong for my mom. Mom would probably be baking a lot. I cried harder and in the midst of it, I couldn't help but let out a chuckle.

SNAP!

I jumped, as I turned around to find Thomas staring at me. I could imagine the sight I must be. Puffy, red eyes, nose like Rudolph the red nosed reindeer. I turned away from him to catch my breath and wipe away the tears. As I composed myself I turned back to him. "What are you doing here?" I was rather frustrated one of them had seen me crying. And of all people, Thomas. I could feel the knots forming in my stomach.

"I saw that you were upset during dinner, and when I saw you practically run out the house I came after you. It was not my intention to scare you, and for that I apologize." He walked towards me and placed his hand on my shoulder.

"You needn't have come out after me. We should get you back so you can get some rest." I sighed. So much for some time alone.

"I am not a child, Miss Brandon," He snapped. "I am quite capable of finding my way back, without your help." I flinched a little at his tone, and I saw the expression on his face change just as quickly.

"I didn't mean it that way. I am simply concerned because you are still recovering. You do realize that don't you? You should be taking it easy," Oops, they wouldn't have used that kind of language just yet. To cover up my mistake I went hastily on. "Still, I do apologize for the manner in which I spoke. I do not think of you as a child." I looked down.

He took a deep breath, as if to give himself patience. "It is all right. My tone was harsher than necessary." He paused. "Why were you out here, alone and crying?"

"I-I just needed the time alone." I purposely ignored the question regarding my crying.

"And, you were crying because?"

I sucked in a breath to keep from having a less than ladylike response out of frustration. "I-" I paused, uncertain of just what to say. I didn't want to mention my family because that would bring more questions and I was still acting as if I couldn't remember anything. Nobody had asked any more questions, and I hadn't brought it up. That is, until now. "I imagine I have a family, and if they are anything like yours, they must be worried about me. I suppose the emotions of everything just caught up with me."

"This is not the first time stepped away to cry though, Miss Brandon."

I looked up, startled, and questioning, though the words didn't quite make it out.

"The evening of the day I woke up. Shortly after you left my room, I saw you outside by the tree." He bit his lip, as though he was confessing some great crime he was guilty of. Realization dawned on me. He'd been the reason the curtains were moving. I sighed. "Surely you understand a lot had happened in the days leading up to that."

"And from what I understand, you were strong and there for my family in their time of need, along with caring for me." I winced at his words. I did nothing, while this poor family experienced the loss of their home and life as they knew it. "We should go back to the house," he muttered, and started away. I didn't follow right away. At this point, I needed to get away from him. He glanced back at me as though waiting for me to follow. I looked up at the sky, instead. They were so clear, you could see all the stars. Nothing like the world I lived in back home. I felt his presence right next to me, more than I saw or heard it. "They are beautiful are they not?" His voice carried wonder, and I could only wonder at how easily he shifted attention. I sighed, and turned away to the house, in the direction he'd originally intended.

"Wait. Miss Brandon." He grabbed my arm gently. I turned back to face him. "Why are you so afraid of me?"

"I'm not afraid of you." I answered with all the strength I could muster, but looked down at the ground.

"You're not? Then why do you run away from me?"

"I don't run away from you." I looked up quickly, meeting his gaze, and looked back at the ground. The thing was, he had a point. Ever since he'd woken up I had been fleeing him. Why, I had no idea. I'd never been so confused in my life.

Oh! Why wasn't Mom there? Then I'd be able to tell somebody everything. I'd at least have everything out. And maybe I'd get some advice. I felt like crying even more now, but I couldn't. Not with Thomas here.

I felt a tear trickle down my face. Ugh! My emotions betrayed me. Traitorous tears. I truly was losing it. I couldn't even keep my emotions in check. I turned my head away hoping Thomas hadn't seen it, but I'd been to late. I felt his finger at my chin as he gently pushed it up so I was forced to look him in the eyes.

"Why are you crying again?" His voice was very gentle now. He wiped one of my tears. I found myself wishing I could lean into him, and just cry. But even in my losing it state, I knew that wouldn't be appropriate

"I- I don't know." Now the tears poured out. I looked down once again with my face in my hands. Johnny had always called me a cry baby. Ugh, why did they always find a way into my thoughts? As hard as I tried to go with the flow and block them out of my mind, they just snuck back in, like thieves, stealing my thoughts and emotions. Thomas placed a hand on my shoulder. I suppose the only show of comfort that wouldn't be taken wrong. For a long time, we stood there in silence, with the exception of my sniffing from crying. After a little while, I realized it was getting late. Wiping my tears and putting my emotions in a box, I looked back up at him. "We should probably be getting back to the house now." At least for now, I'd have to keep that box put away. How long they would stay there I had no idea, but for now, it would have to do.

Thomas and I made our way to the house silently.


During the next week I didn't talk to Thomas. I kept going on those walks. Sometimes I'd cry – always making sure no one was lurking around – and sometimes I'd just think about my family. It's funny how you don't realize how much something means to you until you don't have it. I always had my family backing me up, even my little brother. Johnny was the only one who could pick on me. Not even my parents could, according to him. I closed my eyes remembering the day he told me that.

"Only I can pick on you, so you tell me who else picked on you so I can punch the lights out of him. Or is it a her?"

Mom and Dad were always there to listen and advise, as well as being a shoulder to cry on. I had friends, but my family had always been my rock. The only other One I turned to was that Somebody, the One I'd never seen, but I knew was there. I'd always known I was never alone, yet sometimes the feeling of being alone was overwhelming.

Right now I was on one of those walks thinking of my family though. I had to box my feelings up so that none of the Martins would know of anything, but as soon as I was out of sight, I let them loose. It was necessary for my sanity. From there, my thoughts would turn to all of those who were dying. As much as I loved history and liked this particular part of it, I'd never thought of how many died for my freedom. We read it daily, "such and such died a few days ago." My heart went out to the families. Some of them were probably not much older than me. In fact, many were much younger.

I remembered Thomas arguing with his father in the attic that fateful day. Thomas was my age and already wanted to join. Then there was the battle between 'the Ghost' and 'the Butcher'. The thought of it sent shivers down my spine. That maybe the Martin kids could lose their father. They'd already lost their mother. I tried to hold back the sigh, but it escaped. It was amazing how many things were escaping my control. I laughed to myself, and shook my head.

"What are you thinking about?" Thomas's now familiar voice hit my back. I was beginning to feel as if he always showed up at the times when I was most off my guard. It was almost as if he timed it.

"Not much. Just the war, and things like that." I offered a smile. I wanted to be alone, but I didn't want to be rude. Granted, I had been alone for quite a while at this point. Perhaps, I should have even left the Martins and Miss Selton a while ago, but something held me there. I didn't know what exactly.

"I see. Miss Brandon..."

"I think it's time you called me Emily." I interrupted, but smiled again, so as not to be completely rude.

"All right. Emily, what exactly were you thinking about?"

"Like I said, nothing much. Just.. how many men have been dying. It gives me knots in my stomach."

"Hm. I'd be out there with them right now if I could."

The thought of Thomas being out there with the army sent a chill through my whole body. I had thought of it, but still it hadn't hit me, I guess. I sucked in a breath, and he glanced up at me, but said nothing. I scrambled for something to say. "Your father probably wouldn't hear of it now that he almost lost you." I let out the breath.

"True, but I still wish I were out there fighting. Fighting for our independence." His eyes sparkled. He was probably thinking of freedom and the glories of battle. I couldn't understand why these guys were so hungry for a chance to fight. I know in many cases, it was that very hunger that made me a free American, but still... I sat down on a nearby log, and Thomas followed suit.

"Thomas, didn't you ever think that maybe you're better right here with your brothers and sisters? Your father and older brother are fighting. I'm sure it puts them at ease to think their family, you, Susan, William, Samuel, Nathan, and Meg are safe here with your aunt." I fidgeted with my hands.

"But, Mis- Emily, I know they are fighting for us. It's just that..." I could see he was struggling to find the words. "You couldn't understand."

"Then make me understand. I'd really like to." I set my hand over his as encouragement, but I felt him flinch at my touch. I almost pulled back, but chose not to.

He sighed, before he began, "One of them shot me. I almost died. My family was in agony, plus the fact that my countrymen die every day and I'm just sitting here. Doing nothing." He stood up and looked out across the fields, as though imagining himself out there fighting.

I tried to keep my next words calm, gentle, as though perhaps I could speak some sense into the guy. "Thomas, they're my countrymen too, and, you know, I was there when you were shot. I was there with your family when they were afraid they'd lose you. I suppose the way I see it, I imagine what your family would go through now. The thought of losing you again." I choked out the last set of words, almost as if I was talking about myself also. No! Emily snap out of it. You barely know him. Stop it! Panicky me ranted, and based on the knots in my stomach, I was strongly inclined to listen.

"I know you were there, and..." He paused and looked back at me. "that's more reason for you to understand." His head drooped, and his hair fell over his face like a black sheet. For some reason, I couldn't bare the thought of him going out there and marching off to his death. I stood up and moved towards him, pulling back his hair. "Thomas, please." I hated that my voice sounded like I was begging, but I continued, "wait like your father said that night in the attic?" I knew he'd be safe as long as he did wait.

"Of course, I'm going to wait. I would never go against my father's wishes." He looked at me almost incredulous. I knew he believed he wouldn't, but how could I be sure?

"We should be heading back," he stepped out of my reach and started towards the house. This time, he didn't wait for me. I guess he knew I'd follow this time. I quickly caught up with him, falling in step together, but our walk back to the house was a quiet one. I didn't know what to say and I also couldn't stop thinking about the fact that Thomas wanted to go to war. I just couldn't push it out of my mind. It was yet another thief. Thomas also didn't say anything. He was probably thinking of the war as well. Just not the way I was thinking of it.

I dreaded it. He dreamed of it.


A/N: so, what do you think? PLEASE review! I'm pretty much on my knees. Just kidding (G). But really. REVIEW.