-1A/N: Ok, I spent all day working on this so I hope you like it. Sorry again that it's been so long since I updated, but college has been hectic and I'm dealing with my University application (3 interviews…go me!). Anyway, enjoy this one and I'll try to get the next one done soon. Ron xxx.

All around me men were dieing. The men who's life was now to be the cost of my putrid attempt to make them free once more. The soldiers were running past me towards the retreating backs of the freed colonials. Bullets were flying, only in one direction…towards my American brethren.

His hand tightened around my arm once more, I had almost forgotten he was there. The grisly scene that was playing around me seemed to slow down, in to slow motion, making every successful bullet more difficult to bear, knowing that it was I who caused it.

I would not look up at him. I was to ashamed about what I had done to get the key to hell as it now seems, from him. I was scared about what sordid emotions I would find lurking beneath the surface of his icy hot eyes. He had managed to put a shirt on, that much I could see, and was thankful for.

He leaned in close to my ear and sadistically whispered, "Well, lets see what Cornwallis thinks of this little display!" and with that he pulled me so hard I was sure that my arm would rip of. We were moving, at a hurried pace. Tavington was dragging me nearly off my feet with his speed.

I eventually pulled my eyes away from the bloody carnage, frightened to watch any more. Those men were good men, who didn't deserve to die. It was my fault. It was my fault that they were dead and dieing. My eyes began to sting with salty tears and those few words echoed around in my head, it's my fault they are dead, I caused this.

"No!" Someone shouted from behind. I knew that voice without even having to look at who it was. "I want them alive!" Wilkinson was shouting at his borrowed men.

Tavington continued to drag me up the steps and into the manor. That was the last that I saw of the butchered colonials.

The manor was alive! People were coming out of every door, trying to see what all the commotion was. But Tavington paid none of them any heed, it seemed as though he was ignoring them. He continued on rout, pulling me reluctantly behind him. I knew where we were going.

Up the stair case now, and on to the first floor. Then I saw him. Cornwallis was emerging from the second floor on the stair case. In his bed clothes, pulling a dressing gown hurriedly around him. His powered wig missing and bare footed. This was the British Warlord that the colonials feared, this was the man that knew more about warfare that we could hope to learn in a thousand lifetimes, a comforting thought I know. But yet here he was, ruffled at having been pulled out of bed at four in the morning. An almost humorous sight.

"Tavington!" he shouted as he shook sleep from his mind. Tavington stopped abruptly, and I walked straight into the back of him causing another uncomfortable union. Tavington didn't look to him or back at me, he kept facing the opposite wall.

A bang from down in the hall distracted the Lord General, "Sir, the colonials have escaped!" shouted the young guardsman from before bursting in through the heavy oak doors.

Cornwallis took a deep breath in trying to digest all the information he had been force fed and glared at Tavington. "What is this about, Tavington!" Tavington remained silent, his stubborn nature evident. "Fine," Cornwallis said, obviously vexed by the situation. "In my office".

At that Tavington started pulling me again, another break neck yank that could have dislocated my arm. Cornwallis followed behind, although at a much more leisurely pace. I don't think he's seen me yet. He hasn't acknowledged me in any way. There was obviously some major personality clash between the two men. An obvious power struggle that spanned back a long time.

We reached the door to Cornwallis' office, and Tavington, not waiting for the Lord General to invite him in, burst through the doors and into the circular office. I had only seen the inside of this office once or twice before, but it never failed to impress me. There was a table in the middle, sporting many maps of the country. There were little gold devises holding them in place, there to decide which direction was which or some other trivial purpose.

Cornwallis' desk sat underneath the windowsill and there proudly stood the British flag, barley visible in the lacking light. Tavington seemed to be breathing harder than usual. He looked as though he was desperately wanting to say something, but was trying his best to hold it in.

"William…" I began, not sure what I wanted to say, but feeling as though I had to say something. But before I could the Lord General himself strutted into the room highly resembling a pruning peacock; making a point of slamming the door shut behind himself.

His eyes were wild as he walked straight past us and to his wooden desk. He sat himself down on the comfy chair and glared up at the 6 foot something Cornel with evident hatred, his sense of authority made his chest swell. If I wasn't careful this would turn into a power contest before my very eyes.

Cornwallis, without even looking away from Tavingtons gaze, lit the small brass lamp that was perched on the desk. The light blinded me in the night. It was so bright I had to cover my eyes. Tavington still kept his tight grip around my arm, as though to make sure that I couldn't run away, which seemed like a good idea. If I were free from his grip, I'd be out of that door before they even noticed I was gone.

"Well?" The Warlord asked. His arms were now crossed in front of him, and he was expecting an answer. "Would you like to fill me in on what has just happened?" He never took his eyes away from Tavingtons. I still don't know whether he has seen me yet.

There was no reply from Tavington. What was he doing? Was he trying to see how far he could push the General? Not a good time to do this, Tavington, I thought. But still there came no answer.

"It's my fau…" I began to say before the Lord General rouse from his chair and shouted:

"TALK TAVINGTON!" The man in front of me I had always considered to be gentle and a man of words, not actions. But that man was not in front of me now, in his place stood a swelling figure head, who was scaring me near to tears. He wasn't even looking at me, however if he was I defiantly would have run out of the room screaming. I never thought someone could change like that.

Tavington loosened his hold of me, but would never let it go completely. He took a deep breath in and said in a calm voice, "There was some trouble with the colonials."

The Lord General looked as though he could burst. I don't think I had ever seem him this angry. His face was rapidly turning a deep shade of beetroot and I could swear that he was shaking. Cornwallis exploded, letting loose his anger and frustration at Tavington.

"We're at war Corneal! Of course there's going to be trouble with the bloody colonials! You'd better come up with a reasonable explanation for all of this or I'll have you flogged! Do you hear me!"

There were tears in my eyes now, he was something out of a nightmare. All I wanted to do was to get out of that room as quickly as I could. Tavington tensed up. Of course he would, the idea of being flogged would make anyone go weak at the knees.

"There was an escape attempt." Tavington looked at me but then back at Cornwallis. "Aided by Miss Martin." Once again his grip tightened, making me flinch.

"Corneal…" Cornwallis started, "The prisoners were under your guard. Are you telling me that Miss Martin managed to hoodwink the guard, sneak into your tent, get the key and then open the cell without the guard knowing!"

"Yes sir"

"Do you really expect me to believe that! It's impossible!" Cornwallis asked as though daring Tavington to answer back to him. I didn't know where to look, to the thunderous warlord or to the scowling Corneal. Seeing again that neither had any intention of making the next move, I felt my courage grow (although only slightly). I stepped forward and said,

"General, that was how it was. The Corneal dose not lie." My eyes were looking straight at the General. He tore his eyes away from Tavington and looked into mine, with a fire that could have matched those of hell itself. Before I knew it, the General raised his hand and struck me hard across the face.

The pain that followed, knocked any liking I had for the General out of me. As I fell of my feet, Tavington still didn't let go. I ended up on the floor, with Tavington hunched over me.

I couldn't see straight, I was dizzy! The light emitting from the brass lamp was burning my eyes even more than before. I let my head hit the floor, it was just too heavy to contend with. There was a heavy throbbing in the side of my face, and I felt the bitter sweet taste of my own blood where my lip had split. I looked up, trying to regain my vision. All I saw was Tavington looking down at me with what was a worried look on his face.

"How dare you lie to me!" Cornwallis spat over us. "Ever since you got here, you've been nothing but trouble! But now you've just crossed the line!"

"Sir…" Tavington began, but was cut of again by Cornwallis.

"No, Tavington. She will leave tomorrow as planned, I want nothing more to do with her!" Cornwallis stepped around from behind his desk and knelt down beside me. He took my face in his hands, forced me to look at him and said, "Now if I ever see you again in my camp, I won't be responsible for my actions. Do you understand me!"

I did nothing. I couldn't believe what had just happened. I could hear my heart beating in my ears and there were massive amounts of adrenaline pumping through my veins. I was staring at him with evident hatred, unable to take in all that he had thrown at me. His hands tightened around my jaw and he said again: "I said do you understand me!"

I nodded my head, my voice having disappeared. Cornwallis seeing this let go of my face. He stood up, and strode towards the door. Looking back at me, a crumpled heap on his floor, he smiled. His hand found its way to the door handle and he said: "The company leaves at noon. Make sure you're on it."

"Yes sir." I said in a voice as quiet as a mouse's. Cornwallis made to leave again, but this time, turned around again. "Oh, and Tavington…"

"Sir?" Tavington said, letting go of my arm and standing up straight, looking as though he was awaiting orders.

"Take Miss Martin down to the black room. I trust that you can do that, you are after all the so called "Butcher". With another smile, he turned the handle and departed from the room, leaving only the memory of his smile as proof he was there.

I looked up from the now closed door and to the window. The early morning sun was just starting to peep its way through the darkness. My focus rested on the British flag on parade, a truly magnificent site to behold, as was any national flag.

Tavington now sure that Cornwallis had gone, bent down and looked at me. Was he angry? Or was he sympathetic for me, the girl who had gotten mixed up in this war, in this new world, because she wouldn't stand for injustice? I looked up into his eyes and I saw the same worry that I had seen earlier.

"Oh stop it!" I said to him. Pushing away his hand that was once again around my arm. "Just be a good solider and take to me this Black Room".

"Fine." He said as he once again straightened up. He stepped back a step, and I pushed myself from the ground. I brushed down my dress and satisfied I looked up at him. Tavington was watching me closely, it was kind of unnerving.

"What!" I asked in reply to his stare.

"Lucy…"he began. He stepped towards me and placed his hand on my shoulder, my gaze followed his hand. This was strange. Too strange.

"No." I said stepping away from him. I knew what he was going to say. He was thinking about what I said earlier that night when I got the key. He was thinking about that kiss. My head was shaking, for I too was secretly thinking about that kiss.

He let out a long sigh and made towards the door. He opened it and looked out. There with their ears pressed to the door was Charles O'Hara and Lucy O'Shea. An unlikely couple in every respect, but they both wore guilty expressions, the kind you have when your caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

"We were just…" My dear friend Charles started.

"Save it." Tavington said, silencing Charles in an instant. "Miss Martin…" He said back at me. I looked from him to Charles and then to Lucy. I didn't know how much they heard, but it couldn't have been all of it. I walked towards Tavington with a new confidence. Determined not to portray my true emotions. I reached the door and looked back, glimpsing the British flag in the corner, a silent whiteness to what truly happened here tonight. And with that I closed the door not to look back on what had happened only moments before.