Disclaimer: If I didn't own it when I started, I certainly don't own it now. Much to my ever growing dismay.

A/N: I am so sorry it has been so long since I updated. I lost my inspiration for this story and could not seem to find it. However, thanks to the urging of a long time fellow author and friend I was able to get it back. Plus, I need to stretch out my sadistic, dark humorous side yet again. Still I should give you a little bit of a warning. This story is going to begin to get serious. It's kinda to be expected given the nature of the film. The chapters after this one will be much heavier into the actual motions of the movie. It's inevitable but there you have it. That does not mean that the humor will stop. Tavington is quite amusing in my mind simply by his thought processes. Never fear on that. I will not promise a happy ending because there isn't one. I stick ti canon. It hurts me to do otherwise. So please hang in there til the end and I will do my best to as well. Thank you for continuing to read.

This chapter is dedicated to ArtyFowl who urged me to continue. Thanks so much for the inspiration. :D

P.A.T.R..I.O.T.

Tavington drummed his fingers impatiently on the pummel of his saddle as he waited for the moment when the trap would be put into motion. Beneath him Audrey, his horse, shifted her weight anxiously for the thousandth time. Her owner's impatience had long ago made the poor horse antsy. The Colonel was just not overly skilled at waiting. It seemed to him that he had waited long enough for a chance like this. A chance to prove himself. He would finally captured his nemesis–the Ghost. Whether the rebel militia leader knew it or not, he was the current bane of Tavington's military career. Everything rode on Tavington capturing the Ghost. He had failed enough times already. Another failure, he was sure, would not go over well with General Cornwallis.

This time though he would have the Ghost. It was just the agonizingly slow minutes passing by in wait for this one critical moment that was wearing at his already stretched thin nerves. He pulled out his spyglass once more and raised it up so he could scan the tree lined road for any sign of the rebels. Surely they would be moving into their positions soon. The supply wagon would be within sight any moment. He went very still as he saw dark shapes moving stealthily along the road side. The Ghost and his militia had arrived.

"Good," he whispered, his lips curling up into a faint smile.

It was beginning.

The rebels were taking up their positions as he swung his spyglass towards the opposite end of the road. He could now see the slow moving decoy supply wagon making its way steadily along ever closer to the hidden rebels.

"Perfect."

Everything was proceeding accordingly. Only a few more minutes. He felt a school boy sense of excitement creep over him as he watched the events unfolding below. He sat forward in his saddle slightly as the wagon was finally engaged by the Ghost. There he was–the Ghost–the man Tavington had been searching for only several hundred yards away. His expression turned steely as he watched the exchange closely below between the Ghost and the soldier had placed in charge of the supply wagon. He had to gauge just the right moment to signal his Dragoons forward.

There.

His militia men jumped from the wagon and spread out across the road to face off against the rebels. One moment longer...

"Charge!" he bellowed as he slammed his heels into Audrey's sides. The chestnut mare sprang forward at a gallop as though shot from a cannon. Behind him, the Dragoons came thundering close on his horse's heels. Adrenaline rushed through his veins as the rebels looked up to see their impending doom barreling down at them in a tidal wave of red coats and galloping horses surging down the hill. He could almost taste their panicked fear as they broke, scattering in every direction.

Cowards, he thought with a fierce smile. They could run as fast they could but they would not escape him. There was no where to run. He had seen to that. He raised his gun, dug his heels into Audrey's sides again to urge her on faster. This was what he lived for. He had waited long enough for this.

It was over much faster than he had anticipated much to his disappointment. The rebels had reacted much quicker than he had expected. He had to admit that impressed him quite a bit. Even so he had been prepared for their attempts to escape but apparently not prepared enough. He had not expected a dozen or more of them to go down the bank of the stream and escape through the water. It had been a rather foolhardy thing to do since it was hard to see the depth of the water. For all the men knew their horses could have slipped and broken legs then they would have been stranded and at the mercy of the Dragoons. Desperation drove men to do reckless things. It had certainly been a bold move, however, frustrating it had been to him.

Tavington rode at the head of the column leading the Ghost's captured men back to Fort Caroline. The sun was beginning to set as they rode in silence with only the creaking of saddles and a few whispers to break the quiet. He should have been feeling satisfied, instead he was choking on bitter frustration. He and his men had captured almost 20 men as well as killing around the same number. That was easily more than half of the Ghost's militia. Yet, he felt cheated. They had not completely destroyed the rebel band. A few had escaped. Most importantly, the Ghost had escaped.

He knew it without having to ask the men he had captured. The answer was there in the defeated slump of their shoulders, the fear in their eyes, and the lack of leadership amongst them. Screaming it aloud would not have made it more obvious that the man they followed was not in their midst.

He growled in agitation. He had failed–again. It made his insides burn with rage. Cornwallis would not be pleased. If the Ghost was still at large then the rebel militia could be rebuilt. Tavington was not about to give up though. The Ghost and his men were still safely hidden for now, but he would find them. He would not be satisfied until he killed them all.

P.A.T.R.I.O.T

Very early the next morning, Tavington found himself standing before General Cornwallis once more. He was not looking forward to telling the General that he had failed to capture the Ghost. He had only given the General a very brief report the night before when they had finally brought the rebels in to the fort. By the time, the rebels had all been sorted and herded into their respective holding cages it was late into the evening. The General had been only happy to hear that a large number of the militia ban that had been antagonizing his army had been mostly destroyed. He had asked for the more detailed report in the morning. Which was why Tavington had detained that particular little fact until now.

"You have done very well, Colonel Tavington." Cornwallis praised him with a smile. More than a dozen militia rebels in his prison ready for hanging. It made him happier than he had been in sometime. "Do you believe you have caught the leader, Colonel Tavington?"

Tavington shifted in irritation. "No, my Lord. I am certain he is one of those who managed to escape."

"No matter. We will have him eventually. His men will be hanged, reducing his following. Perhaps he will come out in the open if we anger him enough. He would be a fool to come here to try and rescue his men. We will see him in open combat soon." Cornwallis smirked. His own troops would destroy what was left of the militia if this 'Ghost' did confront him in such a way. Soon all the annoying obstacles keeping him out of North Carlina would be out of his way. He would be able to move north and crush Washington's forces. He would be known in history as the General who won the war over those pathetic continentals.

"I do not think it so simple–," Tavington tried to put in, more than a little shocked that he was not being shouted at for his incompetence.

Cornwallis waved his words away. "It is of no matter. The rebels are to be hanged tomorrow afternoon. In the mean time, I would like for you to go search for those who escaped. I am sure they could not have gone far. Take your Dragoons with you."

"Yes, my Lord," Tavington bowed.

He forced himself not to storm out of there. Once again, after everything he had accomplished, he was reduced to a scout. His hopes of finally gaining notice had once more been trod under the boot of General Cornwallis. Yes, he had been praised–although that to was unsatisfying for it felt like he was being praised for failing– then brushed aside. Cornwallis was a fool. Tavington was truly, deeply beginning to hate that man. What else must he do before Cornwallis acknowledged that he was a capable leader and give him his due respect by listening to what he had to say? Not brushing him aside and sending him out on useless errands such as trying to find a few sly rebels that were probably well hidden by now.

He stomped down the steps of the headquarters in a terrible temper. The few soldiers he stormed past jumped out of his way quickly. He stomped past the holding cages where the rebels were being held, hand clenched on his saber hilt. He glanced over with a menacing snarl at the ragged men who sat huddled behind the wooden bars. He felt a sense of twisted satisfaction when they cowered back at his death glare. The brief flicker of humor immediately disappeared as he yelled for a stable hand to bring his horse to him.

"Bordon!" he called out furiously.

The Dragoon's Captain appeared by his side so fast he had to control himself from leaping away in surprise. How Bordon managed to do that so often he would never know. He shook off that mild irritation, keeping his temper focused on what was annoying him the most.

"We, as well as the rest of my cavalry, have been reduced to scouts yet again," Tavington informed his Captain, who looked just a touch disappointed but did not argue. "Apparently the General believes it is also our job to round up any rebels that have escaped. Go inform the others to mount up and be waiting to leave when I arrive."

Bordon nodded his head and spun away to carry out those orders immediately. Tavington strode back towards the holding cages, smirking as the rebels pressed back even further away from him like they could push their way out of the cages if they tried hard enough. His hand remained on the hilt of his sword as he surveyed them with obvious disgust.

"If any of you feels like telling me where your leader is hiding I will insure that you do not hang tomorrow," he informed them, hoping none of them was smart enough to notice he had not offered clemence.

"We'd never betray him to you, Butcher." one long haired scruffy fellow barked smugly.

Tavington's ice blue eyes narrowed threateningly. Few had dared call him that to his face. "He'll be caught and killed the same as you. There is no point in protecting him. If you have not noticed he ran while you were all being captured. Obviously your loyalty in him is misplaced," the Colonel remarked coldly.

"He did what he had to out of necessity," another man spoke up, sounding much more well educated then the previous man. Tavington frowned as the man continued. "You did not tell us we would be set free or pardoned from our charges if we do betray him. You would probably only kill us on another day despite aiding you. Go look for him yourself, but you will never find him."

The other men nodded and agreed boldly. Tavington snorted rudely. "Your faith in the man is pitiful. I will find him. I will kill him and the rest of your pathetic band. The rest of you will hang tomorrow. I will watch with pleasure." Tavington spun around and marched away stiffly. He snatched Audrey's reins away from the waiting stable boy. He had not expected the rebels to give up their leader's whereabouts, but it would have made matters so much easier. So much for that slim hope. With a sigh, he swung up into Audrey's saddle before heeling her in the sides which sent her bolting out the gates of the fort.

P.A.T.R.I.O.T.

"What a useless waste of time that had been," Tavington grumbled to Bordon as they rode at the head of the Dragoons back towards the Fort. "Did we even learn anything of worth?"

Bordon looked thoughtful. "We found their tracks leading into the swamps. We have a general direction in which they were headed."

"Which is about as useful as knowing which side of a hill a deer shit on when you're trying to track it a day later," Tavington snapped at his subordinate. Bordon did not look a bit fazed by his display of temper. That probably irritated him even more. "All we did was tire out our horses, waste time, and become frustrated."

"On a good side, it kept us away from the Fort and General Cornwallis," Wilkins spoke up behind him.

Bordon had the urge to sigh in resignation as Tavington twisted around in the saddle to tell the Captain just where he could shove his opinions as well as his optimism. The Colonel really did act like a child when things did not go his way. He had no intention of trying to see the good side of anything if he was in this kind of temper.

Tavington twisted back around and continued to grumble to himself. He still could not believe that he had been sent out yet again on something as useless as this. He was fit to kill something. He would never find this Ghost this way. It had not worked before, why the bloody hell should it work now. The Ghost's ability to hide so well was the reason he had concocted that plan to flush the rebel leader and his men out of their lair in the first place. The fact that the man had eluded his him despite the brilliant scheme irked him beyond words.

Still he was not fool or rash enough go charging into unknown swamp lands where he could easily be ambushed. Cornwallis was truly an idiot if he believed that Tavington would do something like that. The Colonel was seriously beginning to believe that this was the General's way of hoping to get rid of him. Why else would he keep sending him out on these useless excursions that only put him in dangerous territory with no chance of success at finding what he had been ordered to look for. Well, he was no fool as to get himself killed so easily. He made sure to keep himself and his men only within the confines of the land he knew well and only on the borders of the swamp land. Besides he knew that the Ghost would probably come out on his own. He would want to free his men. His noble intentions would gnaw at him like a dog with an itch until he could not stand it. It was only a matter of waiting.

Needless to say he was beyond infuriated when he rode up the hill to the fort later that afternoon with Bordon to find in his absence that the Ghost had indeed made his move. Fury surged through him at the sight of a handful of the Ghost's militia men sitting on horseback outside the gates of the Fort with several more horses in tow behind them. With a great effort he forced himself to ride past them, watching them shift uneasily as he did. If they could not feel the hostility he felt towards them they were fools. He rode through the gates and drew Audrey to a halt non to kindly.

His eyes were already riveted on a the familiar face of a man that was striding across the Fort yard with O'Hara behind him. That man- he knew that man beyond any doubt. The man's name and where he knew him from hovered just out of reach in the most annoying manner. Their eyes met across the distance between them and it all came back in an instant. Those brilliant blue eyes staring up at him in a pleading manner, the spy they were going to hang, the boy he shot, and the lock in that man's eyes when he'd rode away. He felt like ice had been dumped over his head.

"Release the prisoners!" O'Hara's voice cut through the shock that frozen him.

He glanced quickly over at the holding cages as the lock was opened and the door swung wide to allow the men he had captured to walk free. He leapt off his horse and stormed across the yard, knocking a soldier out of his way as he went. Cold fury was surging through his veins as the rebels began to file out of the holding cages. He had not worked that hard to capture those men only to have them released for some unknown reason.

He stopped beside O'Hara who pretended to look unfazed at being so closed to him when he was inches from losing his temper. "General, what is this?" he snapped, barely hanging onto the shred of respect he was expected show.

"Prisoner exchange. He has eighteen of our officers," O'Hara explained shortly.

"Who is he? I recognize him," Tavington growled quietly, glaring after the man with the bright blue eyes.

O'Hara's lipped turned up into a tiny smug smile. "He's the commander of the militia. Your Ghost." Tavington's head whipped around just in time to see the delight in O'Hara's eyes at having all of his schemes and hard working falling to pieces right in front on him.

In raged at this sudden knowledge, he spun around and yanked his saber from it's sheath, he strode after the Ghost with murderous intent.

"Stay that sword, Colonel!" O'Hara's voice lashed out, checking Tavington's stepped. The rank the man suddenly held over the Colonel grated so badly it felt like an open infected wound. "He rode in under a white flag for formal parley."

"This is madness," he muttered under his breath in disbelief that all this was being allowed to happen.

"If you harm him, you condemn our officers," O'Hara informed him, trying to through in all the weight of his authority behind those words.

Tavington grit his teeth, spinning around to stride back towards the general. He stopped a few feet away, hesitating for only a brief second before forcing the next few words past his lips. It was like drinking scalding water. "With respect, sir-," he felt bile in the back of his throat, "he's killed more officers in the last two months." He said it as calmly as he could manage as he locked his seething gaze onto O'Hara's.

O'Hara drew up just a tad taller as Tavington had just insulted him personally by questioning his authority. It had been subtle and maybe few would have suspected that was what had behind those words but the look in Tavington's eyes was clear enough. "He has shown no aggression here. Hence he cannot be touched," O'Hara replied firmly, holding Tavington's gaze despite the uneasy he felt in the pit of his stomach. The Colonel's temper was closing to breaking and he had no desire to be in the line of fire when it did. The man was irrational. O'Hara watched as a delighted light just appeared in Tavington's eyes as those words left his lips.

"Has he not?" Tavington murmured and tiny smile appeared on his lips before he whirled around and strode fiercely across the yard. It was all horse shit! That man was the Ghost and they were going to let him ride away with those men in tow. The whole point of everything he had done would be lost. Damn them and their honorable following of the rules of war. War had no rules! It was no civilized. It was killed or be killed. And he was going to kill that man. To hell with the officers in the rebels possession. If they were stupid enough to be captured then they had earned their death.

"You!" he yelled, not bothered as the man continued to walk away from him. "So you're the Ghost are you? I remember you! On that farm with that stupid little boy!" He smiled fiercely just a little as the man jerked to a halt and the young man he recognized as the Ghost's other son and spy swallowed hard in anger. The man turned around to face him a pained yet angry look in his bright eyes. It was almost unbelievable to think that man was Ghost. He remembered the devastated look on his face when his son had died in his arms. He had not had the look of a warrior then. He had only been the horrified father to a dumb dead child who had been to rash to hold his tongue. "Did he die, hm?" he asked with relish. He would not let this man walk free. He felt supreme satisfaction wash over him as the man walked purposely towards him hate and anger so apparent in his eyes that Tavington could almost feel it. He felt delight at knowing he had angered the man so easily. A little more and the man would snap, then he would have the opening he'd need. "You know it's an ugly business doing one's duty, but just occasionally...," he paused half a second as the small smile he was trying to hold back appeared for brief second. He knew this would be the finally stroke and he was ready. "It's a real pleasure," he ended with relish.

There was silence between them as he waited for the man to break. The moment of stillness continued and yet nothing happened. He felt anger rising again as the man simply stood there, staring at him in calm determination. Do something dammit! He wanted to yell at the man.

"Before this war is over I'm going to kill you," the Ghost spoke in quiet tones with a firmness that startled Tavington. Few had stood before him so calmly and spoken to him so boldly when they had witnessed first hand the kind of cruelty he could inflict.

He leaned forward just a touch, anger shining in his eyes. "Why wait?" he pressed, hoping the man would take up the invitation as his hand clenched around his saber. He could kill him right there. He could do it so easily. He barely managed to rein his control as the man looked at him considering his words. Surely, the Ghost would not back away from such a clear challenge.

"Soon," the man spoke resolutely, lingering only another moment before spinning away and mounting up on his horse.

He wanted to hurt something as the Ghost and his men wheeled their horses around and rode off. He did not even blink when the Ghost whistled and a moment later the General's huge great Danes went sprinting past his leg. He was to stunned and enraged by everything that had just happened that he could not seem to move. He watched in disbelief as the gates of the Fort swung shut in his face, blocking out the view of the retreating rebels backs.

He had been so close. The Ghost had been in his reach only to slip away because of the confounded rules of war! Damn Cornwallis! Damn O'Hara! And most of all damn the Ghost! How could the General have let this happen? Was it not Cornwallis who had wanted his head so badly to begin with? Was it not for that one man that the General had made his life a living hell just to capture and stop that militia? So what the bloody hell had possessed the General to allow the Ghost to walk into the Fort, make demands, and walk away a free man along with all his men? It was insanity. It was more than maddening. Damn Cornwallis pride and honor! Honor did not win wars!

He felt like a fool for not realizing that man had been the Ghost. He should have known! The beginning of the Ghost had started the day that man's son had been taken prisoner. It had been the men he had assigned to guard that prisoner who had been murdered. The prisoner had escaped with only one British soldier's mad rambling to divulge what had happened that day. He had dismissed the account of the soldier that it was only one man. It had not seemed possible but the proof had just walked out that gate. How could he have been so blind? Simply because the man wept and pleaded in his presence Tavington had dismissed him from his mind as no threat at all. What foolish mistake to have made. In his mind he had always believed it had been the militia before it had been well known that they had been mustered by the Carolinas. The Ghost nickname for the leader had stuck because of Cornwallis's insistence of it, not him.

The answer to the riddle had been right there under his nose all those months he had been out there chasing shadows. Ragged throbbed through him and heated his blood to what felt like boiling level. He had been run like a dog in circles after its own tail by that man like a fool. He wanted to wring that man's neck then shoot him and watch all the blood drain from his body then shoot him again for the hell of it.

For months he had eluded Tavington, making him look incompetent in his ability to perform his duties and now he was destroying the one victory he had to use as leverage with Cornwallis. Everything he had worked for had been shot to hell in a matter of minutes

"Colonel Tavington!" O'Hara's voice felt like a knife through his shoulder blades.

He turned to face the little priss with a quiet growl. He tensed his shoulders at the smug expression on O'Hara's face. O'Hara was clearly enjoying yet another one of what he knew would be claimed as Tavington's failure. He wanted to pummel the man until his porcelain face looked like nothing more than raw meat. "Yes?" he bit out.

"General Cornwallis has ordered that you and your Captain retrieve our officers that the Ghost was holding hostage," O'Hara said with a tiny smile gracing his pink lips.

Tavington had forcefully bite his cheek to keep from unleashing the force of his temper completely. Of course, Cornwallis would ask him to that task. He would want to rub in the fact that this was going to be somehow blamed on Tavington despite all he done. "As the General commands," Tavington said as politely and calmly as he could manage.

O'Hara actually smiled fully; an amusing decrepitating smile that made Tavington long to run the little bastard through with his saber. He spun his heel, stalking away towards Bordon to collect Audrey and go do as the General had ordered. He might just stab one of those officers just to relieve some stress and blame it on the rebels. The thought brought a flicker of devilish anticipation fleeting across his face before he urged Audrey through the gates of the Fort.

P.A.T.R.I.O.T.

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