Author's Note: Fyi there is a Ben POV in this chapter đź‘€
It had been raining for three days. Molly wished she felt more disappointed. Although she did not regret killing the two men who attacked her, she was still bothered by it. The longer she stayed at the cabin, the more she began to feel as if those two men hadn't been bandits after all. But even if that wasn't the case, they had intended to harm her. She knew that, but it was still hard to forget. Even after she had scrubbed the men's blood from her hands and had burned her blood sodden clothes, she was having a hard time forgetting.
She still dreamed of Alex, but now she also dreamed of how she'd felt when the one man pointed his gun in her face. She could feel herself slipping into the bad place again. And she suddenly found herself not as eager to catch up with the Continental Army.
The truth was, she was beginning to enjoy living in solitude at the cabin. There was plenty of food to last her weeks. She was also grateful that she no longer had to stress about expenses. For the first time, in a long time, she was lying in a warm bed, with a full belly, and she was lazily watching the fire crackle in the fireplace.
She had nearly fallen asleep when she heard a sharp crack outside of the cabin. Her eyes snapped open, and she laid there for a second. Soon, she heard a second crack. It was the sound of tree branches being broken. She silently slipped out of bed and pulled her trousers and her boots on. She collected Selah's musket, which was loaded beside the beside. Then she went outside to investigate.
She feared it may be an acquaintance of the bandits she had killed. Even if it was, she had already decided she would kill them. She regretted killing Alex for many reasons, but these other two men were different. They had confronted her, and they intended to do her harm. While the thought of taking another life still made her sick, it was self-defense.
She was met with a cold burst of wind when she stepped outside the cabin. She shivered as she began to walk around the property that surrounded the cabin. There was nothing directly besides the cabin, so she decided to walk into the surroundings woods.
During her first round into the woods, she found the source of the noise. It was a man on the ground. He appeared to be unconscious. He looked like he may be a local, but it was hard to tell. He was laying on his stomach. She leveled her gun at him and spoke in a firm voice.
"Who are you?"
The man didn't move, nor did he make a sound. Molly's hands remained steady, but she began to chew the inside of her cheek. Perhaps he was in need or help?
"Hello?" she said, her voice becoming less harsh.
No response.
"Hello? Sir? …Do you need help?"
Nothing.
The woods around her had been silent since she had left the cabin. If this was some scheme to attack her, she expected it would've happened by now. She took a step forward and nudged the man with the barrel of her gun. He still didn't make a sound. Maybe he's dead? She let out a sigh as she knelt beside the man. With her musket still in one hand, she began to roll the man over onto his back.
She gasped and fell on her backside. She was in shock.
"Ben?" she asked in disbelief.
He still didn't make a sound. She pushed herself forward so that she was hovering over his unconscious form. She reached out and touched his face briefly. She couldn't deny it; it was him.
"Benjamin." She began to whisper his name aloud as she pressed her head and hand against his chest, listening for a heartbeat. He was very much still alive, but it was too dark outside for her to identify why he was unconscious. She swung her musket over her back and made the exhausting decision to drag his limp body into the cabin.
She found herself struggling to get a grip on him and find good footing. Not only was Ben drenched from the rain, but the ground was soft and muddy. It took more time than she would've liked, but she eventually succeeded in dragging him up the couple of porch steps through the front door.
She gritted her teeth from the effort and began trying to heave him onto the bed. She ended up using a chair to help her distribute his weight. Once he was on his back, she began to examine him. She discovered he was wounded and found his injury quickly, for there was a thick blood stain on the front of his coat. She unbuttoned his coat and untucked his shirt.
There was a single bullet wound in his lower abdomen. It appeared to be fresh because it was still bleeding profusely. She let out a grunt as she rolled him over onto his side. She didn't see an exit wound, so she knew she was going to have to get the bullet out of him.
She abandoned him for a moment to search the other rooms in the cabin. She had already become acquainted with the supplies she had access to. She rushed into a side room where there was a worktable and tools, and she grabbed a pair of craftsman tongs. She also retrieved her knife and a handkerchief from her rucksack.
When she returned to him, she forced his mouth open and stuffed the handkerchief inside. She didn't want to risk him waking up and biting his own tongue off. Then, with the tongs and knife, and began to dig into his bullet wound. Her hands were sweaty and soaked in blood, and she was shaking, from nervousness and from the cold. She winced as she heard him begin to quietly groan in his stupor. Nonetheless, she managed to extract the bullet.
She grabbed what was left of the bottle of rum and dribbled a little over the wound. His eyes blinked open briefly as he cried out in pain. She then began digging through her rucksack again. She finally found what she was looking for. A few weeks ago, she had purchased a few needles and thread because she needed to mend her clothing.
She threaded the needle but hesitated when she positioned it above his wound. She knew her stitch work was poor, but she could not mess this up. She worked slowly, meticulously, as she began to sew his skin back together. He was beginning to awaken, and he was beginning to writhe in pain. She shushed him quietly and finally paused and held a hand to his chest to steady him. When he settled down, she finished her work and removed the handkerchief from his mouth.
She began to rip a spare blouse into strips. She was on her knees, sitting beside the bed, as she wound them around his torso and tied them tightly to secure the wound.
When she looked at his face once more, his breathing was beginning to slow and become steady, but he wasn't moving. She felt tears welling up in her eyes as she took his hand and began to pray. She spoke aloud, suddenly terrified by the prospect of being in silence.
She stopped and her eyes snapped open when she felt him stir beneath her.
"Thank you." Ben breathed.
Then he slipped into unconsciousness once more.
Ben did not awake until morning. When he opened his eyes, he had trouble focusing on anything. His entire body ached, and his head was still spinning from the blow to the head and the blood loss. He couldn't remember much from the night before, but he was aware that he was lying in a bed and that his clothes were dry. Someone had saved him. Finally, his vision focused, and he saw Molly Strong hovering over him.
"Molly?"
The surprise was evident in his voice.
A month ago, Caleb had received word from Setauket that Molly had fled to York City to escape the advances of Captain Simcoe and the Queen's Rangers. He still remembered how livid he'd been when he received Abe's report. How could they let her go? He remembered thinking. She had stayed in Setauket because it was safe; however, clearly, that hadn't been the case. Although he felt weak and ill, he could also feel a new wave of anger building, as he began to understand that Abe and Anna had lied to him.
"Hey." She greeted quietly. She looked just as surprised to see him. "You know, for a while there, I had convinced myself I was hallucinating."
There was no emotion in her voice. She sounded almost as tired as she looked.
He weakly laughed aloud; he was so happy to see her. He didn't even want to inquire how or why she was here. But then he took a good look at her.
He swallowed hard as he took in her appearance. Something was very wrong. Her hair hung loose, but it was short and cut like a man's. Then he noticed she was dressed in men's clothing. Despite her efforts, she he decided that her disguise was unsuccessful. She still looked like his Molly. But then he noticed that she was hurt also. Her lip was also split open and she had a bruise forming on her right cheek.
"What's happened?" His voice broke as he tried to push himself into a seated position. He winced and pressed a hand to his side, where the bullet had pierced him.
She answered his question, but it wasn't the response he was looking for. "You're going to be okay. I took out the bullet and sewed you up. I've been checking the dressing all morning and the bleeding hasn't returned." She sat down beside him on the bed.
"No," Ben shook his head, wincing again as he tried to push himself up once more. She leaned over to help him. When he was situated and his back was propped against headboard, she pushed aside his shirt to look at his wound. It was still closed. He shivered at her touch but said nothing.
"No," he said again, taking her hand in his. "I mean, are you alright? And what are you doing here? Where even is here?"
His head still ached, but he was trying to ignore the pain.
"I have the same question for you. How did that bullet get into you?"
"Molly-"
"Benjamin."
His excitement was waning. Something was very wrong.
She wasn't acting like herself. When he had seen her those couple of times in Setauket, she was the same as when he'd left her. But now she was aloof and harsh. He knew he hadn't written to her since Christmas, and now she was here, in New Jersey. Something had happened. Although he wanted to be the one to receive answers first, he could tell from her expression that she would not back down. So, he knew the sooner he told her what had happened, the sooner she would tell him the same.
He began his explanation, "Do you remember when I wrote about their being traitors in Washington's camp?"
"Aye."
"Well, there still are. We had believed we found all of them, but Washington is very adamant that the soldiers aren't to know about the treachery… He believes it to be bad for morale." He added after seeing her confused expression. "So, I volunteered to go out of camp with one of those men and…" His voice caught in his throat. He suddenly felt self-conscious about what he was about to tell her.
He was relieved when he did not have to say it. Molly guessed, "You killed him?"
He nodded, and he prayed that she would not think less of him for it.
He had been worried about falling out of her favor for a long time now. When he visited her in Setauket, he pretended that nothing was the matter. But the truth was, he knew he had changed since being at war. He had done things he was not proud of. And he could only pray she didn't learn about any of it.
"But not before he shot you?" she guessed next.
"No," he admitted, "I didn't know he intended to meet his contact in the woods. After I killed him, his contact confronted me… It's the same man who is responsible for Mr. Sackett's death. His name is Lieutenant Gamble. He knows I am the head of intelligence, so he intended to capture me and bring me to York City. But I managed to escape."
"And got shot in the process?"
"Aye. I rode on my horse for I don't know how long. When I fell off, I wandered through the woods until I noticed the light from this cabin. This was the first homestead I'd come across."
He did not say it aloud, but he was sure she was thinking the same thing. What were the odds of this happening? It must be fate or an act of God.
"And is this Gamble still looking for you as well?" she asked.
"Yes. I imagine so."
She nodded, "Then you must make a hasty recovery."
She made no move to say anything else. He tried to read the expression on her face, but she was still acting distant.
He pressed a hand to his wound and bit his tongue to mask the pain as he pushed himself forward. He grabbed her face with one of his hands and kissed her on the lips. He had a fleeting thought that she was still just in shock from finding him. But she sat there unmoving, refusing to kiss him back. After a second, he pulled away, but her demeanor had not changed. When he pulled away, he could feel his own mood beginning to match hers. He didn't like it.
"Now, will you tell me what you are doing here?" he asked quietly.
He remained where he was, refusing to lay back down.
"I've been looking for you." She said. Her voice sounded far away. "I went to Valley Forge, but Washington's camp had already left for Middlebrook."
Ben was suddenly overcome with a new set of worries. He felt the blood draining from his face. No one was supposed to know the position of their new encampment.
"Middlebrook? How did you know that?"
"I talked to a scrapper. I paid him and he told me he overheard some soldiers speaking."
Ben silently swore. It did not guarantee that there would be an issue, but it was a technicality. Despite his annoyance, he pushed the subject from his head.
"You're supposed to be in York City." He blurted.
A faint smile tugged at her lips, and he felt a sense of relief at this display of emotions.
"So, Abraham is alive?"
His relief vanished and his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "Of course, he's alive." A beat. "Molly, what's happened?"
He reached out again, this time to touch the bruise on her cheek, but she brushed his hand to the side. She opened her mouth to say something, but then stopped herself and looked away for a moment.
"Abraham and Anna, they're really alright?" she clarified.
"Yes."
She began to chew on her lip. "I never went to the city."
"What do you mean?" He wished she would stop being so vague. All he wanted was an answer, but she seemed determine to skirt around the subject. "And why would Abe lie to me?
"Doesn't surprise me. He lies to me all the time." She snapped.
What? No, that doesn't make sense. Why would Abe lie to me? He convinced himself that there had to be something missing from her words. There had to be. Abe's reports had always been so detailed, and they had used those reports time and time again to save men and outwit the King's Army. It didn't make sense. Why would he be truthful about information, but secretive about information regarding Molly?
Molly must've noticed his confusion because she continued, "You really don't know?"
"I don't know what you're talking about-"
"Why didn't you make Anna go with Selah?" she blurted.
"What does Anna have to do with this?"
"Answer the question Benjamin."
He felt like shrinking away from her. It was as if he was being interrogated.
"That was her decision." He said. "There was nothing I could do. She leapt from the boat.
"Well, since she leapt from the boat, she and Abe have done nothing but endanger the ring… They had an affair. Did you know that?"
He looked away. He had hoped they would never discuss this matter. All he had heard were rumors, but he hadn't believed them to be true. But now, Molly was confirming that they were. He didn't want to think about it anymore.
"You knew?" she demanded.
He refused to look her in the eye, "Caleb said he suspected."
"And neither of you had the decency to tell me?"
She gave him a shove. He yelped in pain and then reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders, holding her in place.
"Molly, we couldn't have you all fighting amongst yourselves." He was trying to calm her down.
"Too late."
"So what? You left just because you were upset with Anna and Abe?"
"No, I left because Anna and Abe are compromised!"
His grip on her loosened as he tried to digest that information. If what she said was true, then they needed to get back to Washington's camp as soon as possible.
"What?"
"His father knows about us." She shrugged, "As does Abe's wife. Has Abraham told you about his alliance with Robert Rogers? Or did he leave that out of his reports as well?"
Ben tried to stammer out a response, but his head was pounding more than before. None of this made sense to him.
"Robert Rogers?" he repeated, in disbelief.
"I met him, you know."
The thought of them interacting sent shivers down his spine. Robert Rogers was, perhaps, the man Ben hated most in the entire world.
When the war first began, one of Ben's classmates from Yale, Nathan Hale, had been involved in an early version of espionage for Washington. During his first mission, he was arrested by Robert Rogers. The redcoats later hanged him for espionage. Although what happened to Nathan pained him greatly, Ben hadn't thought of Rogers again… until his entire platoon was attacked while trying to rendezvous with General Lee. He had known those men, led those men for months, and they were all slaughtered. Since then, Rogers kept appearing in his life, causing trouble for seemingly everyone he knew.
He still remembered when he believed Samuel to be alive, and he was told that Samuel was being released from the Jersey. He still remembered how he felt when he'd gone to see him and found Selah Strong in his brother's place. And then discovered that Selah had been there with Samuel when he died.
The more he thought of this, the more he realized how little he had told Molly over the last year. And he could only imagine what details she had left out as well. It was often too dangerous to include details such as these, so they were forgotten in their letters.
"Molly," he began again, "I need you to tell me everything, from the beginning."
"There is nothing to tell." She scoffed, "Clearly nothing came of their alliance, because you believed me to be in York City. That was our plan, mine and Abraham's wife. She's been covering for me.
He decided that he had to get them past this subject. It was clearly making her more frustrated.
"That still doesn't tell me what you're doing here." He tried.
"Listen to me, Ben, I wanted to help. I still want to help, but I will not go back to Setauket."
He could see she was close to tears. There was more to her story; something she was leaving out. But one thing was clear: whatever had happened in Setauket, whatever had happened between Abraham and Robert Rogers, it had scared her enough to run away. That worried him because Ben knew that Molly did not scare easily.
"Alright." He said, "Alright. You're with me now, alright? We're finally together… No more secrets."
"No more secrets." She agreed.
He pulled her into a hug, silently cringing from the strain it put on his wound. After a moment, he finally asked her the question that had been gnawing at him since he first opened his eyes.
"Molly, who's house is this?"
She pulled away, there was a strange look in her eyes.
"I can show you."
They were in the small barn. Molly had helped him out of bed and guided him outside to the building beside the cabin. Once there, Ben leaned against the wall to support himself. He watched as Molly stepped around the horses and bent down to where something was covered with a sheet. She pulled back the blanket in a fluid motion. Ben made no sound, but his mind was reeling. Molly had just revealed a corpse.
She stood over the body, refusing to even glance in his direction. Ben watched her for a second then limped forward to stand beside her. He swallowed hard as he took in the sight of the body. There was a deep stab wound in the man's abdomen, between the stomach and chest. From the amount of blood that soaked his clothing, Ben knew he must've bled out.
He glanced over at Molly. She was stood unmoving, with an emotionless expression, still just looking at the body.
"You did this?" he asked hesitantly.
"Aye."
He suddenly understood everything. This was why she was acting so strange. He liked to think this man had been the first person she'd ever killed. But the more he looked at her, the more she looked unsurprised. And that's when he realized that this man was not her first. And that thought made him sick to his stomach.
"Did he do this?" Ben asked. He gestured to the bruise on her cheek and her split lip.
She nodded, and a wave of nausea swept over him. He was beginning to imagine the worst.
"Did he hurt you?"
"He didn't get the chance." She looked over at him.
"I'm sorry, Molly."
"Why? I'm not."
It made him cringe to hear her say that.
"Molly-"
"How many men have you killed?" she blurted.
"Seems a bit cruel to count. Don't you think?"
She shrugged but said nothing. After a moment, she bent down and resituated the blanket over the corpse.
"Come on, let's get you some food."
She turned and began to walk back to the cabin, leaving him standing there. She had no intention of helping him back to the house. He watched her go. He didn't know what to think. All he knew was that it had been a mistake involving her in the spy ring. He never imagined this would happen, but he had to face the reality: Molly was a soldier now.
He finally managed to limp back to the cabin. He was uninjured except for the bullet wound, but with each step, the wound sent a stabbing pain into his side.
"Sit down." She commented.
He was breathing heavily from his struggle to get back to the cabin but continued and finally found a seat at the small table in the center of the room. As soon as he was sat, he lifted his shirt to examine his injury. Ben wanted to inquire as to why he was wearing clean clothes; clothes that did not belong to him. But he decided to hold off on asking.
Molly had done a good job sewing up the bullet wound. He was surprised. Although he never said anything, he remembered how poor her stitching typically was whenever she used to mend clothing for him or his father.
He lowered his shirt and pressed a hand tightly to his side, trying to control his breathing. He finally had a chance to look around the room. The cabin was small. It was practically one-room, with the table, hearth, kitchen, and bed all there. There was an adjoining room, where there was a desk and tools, but that was all.
Molly was moving about the small kitchen. He watched her for a moment, but then she began to walk towards him carrying a cup. She held it out to him, and he accepted it. He looked down at the cup's contents, trying to determine what it was. He wasn't entirely sure though.
"What's this?"
"Hot water." She shrugged, "There's cold water too, if you like."
"No, it's fine."
She went back to the fire and began throwing ingredients into a pot over the fire.
Although he knew the reason behind her behavior, there was nothing he could really do if she truly was disturbed. There was no cure. He remembered when he had first killed a man. He eventually came out of his daze, but it took time. But it didn't seem to matter how much time passed, because he had trouble forgetting.
The more he watched her work, he began to realize that he recognized her behavior from somewhere else. There was no affection in her eyes, and her expression was still distant. And he couldn't help but feel nervous. That's when he realized that she was behaving just like when they were children.
Although they grew up together, there was a time when Ben was not fond of Molly. In fact, as a child, he only put up with her because of his brother and because of his friends Caleb and Selah. Molly was the same age as Samuel, but she was also nothing like Samuel. Ben knew that the only reason Molly hung around them was because they were friends with Selah, and Molly would do anything to look out for her younger brother.
Ben spent most of his time with Caleb or Abe or Selah. His friends always thought it was great to have Molly around. She was older, and she wasn't afraid to fight off the other children who would pick on them. But it never mattered to Ben how many times Molly had come to their rescue; he just didn't like her. He viewed her more as a bully than a friend.
He remembered that he'd been glad to get away from her when he went to the city for college. At that point, the only one of their childhood friends who still frequently associated with her was Caleb. Everyone else had moved on to work or schooling or marriage. He hadn't realized how much things had changed until he returned to Setauket after college. He moved back because his mother had died, and he wanted to spend time with his father.
That's when he discovered that all his childhood neighbors had moved on in some way. Samuel was still in the city, working. Caleb was at sea, working. Abe was studying law in York City. And so on, and so on.
That just left Molly and Selah. Their parents had recently died, leaving Selah to manage their family estate. Although they had property and farmland to tend to, Selah decided that he wanted to build a tavern in the heart of town. So, that meant that Selah was gone, working most of the time. So, that just left Molly, and she had changed a lot since the last time they crossed paths.
She had grown up; abandoned her impulsive ways and her violent behavior. She dressed like a lady and was well spoken and well read. He wasn't sure how, but he knew she was studying topics he had learned at college. And, he had to admit, she had become very pretty. Seeing as they both had a lot of free time on their hands, they began to visit each other at their homes. That quickly changed to them taking walks together, and that's when he learned that, although she was different, she had not changed at heart. She still liked to go exploring in the woods, and she could still be loud and bawdy, and she swore better than any man he ever knew. And that was when he finally began to consider her a friend. And then something more…
She abandoned the fire and took a seat across from him at the table. She sat there pushing her short curls out of her face. He could tell she was frustrated with it, and the prospect of it made him want to laugh. No matter how cross she behaved, he knew she was the same.
"Whose clothes are these?" he decided to ask.
"Our friend in the barn."
"Do you mind my asking you a question?"
She shrugged, "Go ahead."
"Well, when you, um..." he began awkwardly. He felt silly for asking, but the question had been gnawing at him for some time. "When you changed my clothes, I... I'm guessing that you had to..."
"It's nothing I haven't seen before." She deadpanned, looking him in the eye.
He could feel his cheeks getting red, and he began to avert his gaze. He knew he would feel silly for asking it.
The truth was, although they were at one time engaged, they had never been together. Ben liked to blame it on the fact that his father was a Reverend, but he and Molly both knew that wasn't the reason why.
Well into their engagement, there had been talk that a war might break out between the colonists and the British. Molly made it very clear that she had no desire to be pregnant a time of rebellion or war. When they had this conversation years earlier, Ben had been too mortified to bring up the subject again. Despite everything, Molly was older than he was, and sometimes he felt intimidated when they discussed certain topics.
After a moment, Molly's snorted with amusement. She was enjoying watching him squirm.
"You forget," she laughed, "I have Selah." A beat. "And you forget that we were engaged."
They looked at each other, and Ben finally allowed himself to smile as well. It was nice to see her in better spirits… even if it was at his expense.
Molly returned from collecting firewood. She had been gone longer than she would've liked, but it was nearly impossible to find any dry wood. It was still raining outside, but not as hard as it once was. Although she hadn't spoken to Ben about it, she knew it would be best if they leave within the next day or so.
She knew she was not acting like herself. She still felt shaken from finding Ben in the woods. Although she his injury was not severe, he was still shaken from the idea of him being shot. She knew that if she had not been there to find him, he would've died; from shock or blood loss.
And then he told her that that man, Gamble, was probably still hunting him. That detail had been gnawing at her all day.
A part of her couldn't believe that any of this was happening. After sewing him back up, she suddenly felt very tired. She was exhausted in every possible way, and she could not wait until they were safe. She wanted nothing more than to be able to speak her mind, for once, and engage in mundane conversations. Now that she was with Ben, she no longer felt like she needed to keep looking over her shoulder.
She began to stack more wood into the hearth. It was always colder at night. She turned her head as a noise pierced through the room. It was Ben. He had been sleeping for several hours now. She rose to her feet and walked over to the bed, where she found him whimpering in his sleep. He didn't seem to be making the noise out of pain. It sounded more like he was dreaming. She sat beside him and pressed a hand to his forehead; his temperature was normal.
"Benjamin." She whispered, "Benjamin."
She lightly put a hand on his shoulder to shake him awake.
"Ben, it's only a dream."
He groaned as he came out of his slumber. He groggily blinked at her. She found herself lightly smiling. She loved looking at him. She suddenly wondered how she could've ever found herself attracted to men like Ensign Baker or Lieutenant MacInnis. She never felt the same way looking at them. It was a warmth that spread all the way to her toes.
"Are you alright?" she asked quietly.
He nodded tiredly and closed his eyes once more as she ran her hand through his tangled hair and then along the stubble on his face. She was about to pull away, but then he reached out and took her hand. She was expecting him to say something, but he remained silent as he brought her hand to his mouth and he kissed the palm of her hand.
He opened his eyes and looked up at her. He said nothing as he kissed her hand and wrist once more, then he reached out and put a hand to her cheek. They locked eyes, and she suddenly felt a knot forming in the pit of her stomach, and she wanted nothing more than to pull herself closer to him. And suddenly, she didn't want to think of anything else, so she found herself leaning down and placing a kiss on his lips. She began to pull away, expecting that he had had enough. But his hand was still on her face, and now it was moving towards the back of her neck, and he pulled her down for another kiss.
She kicked her boots off and intended to slide into the bed beside him, but instead she found herself crawling on top of him. Her legs on either side of his torso. She gasped and pulled away for a moment when she felt one of his hands at her chest. He was messing with the buttons on her shirt. She looked down for a second, then brushed her hands against his as she pushed him away and began to undo the buttons herself. She hadn't gotten very far when he was pulling her closer to him, and he was kissing her again.
She abandoned her work; her shirt was half open and falling off one of her shoulders, but she didn't care. She hummed in surprise when he pushed her onto her back. She laid there for a minute, feeling drunk. She felt his lips on her bare stomach, and then she felt his hands fiddling with the buttons on her trousers. She looked down and laughed tiredly.
He looked up at her.
"What?" he asked, sounding self-conscious.
"I doubt you imagined you'd be undressing a man…"
He snorted and pressed his forehead to her stomach. She could feel him quietly laughing against her, and that only made her body rumble with more laugher.
After a second, he pushed himself back to her, so he was hovering over her. He kissed her again and her hands roamed under his shirt, pushing it over his head. She was careful to mind his injury. Then they both continued to undress each other, with the crackle of the fire as their only companion.
Ben was the first one to wake up the next morning. He awoke with the sun. Both he and Molly were laying on their sides and he had her pulled against his bare chest. As the memories of last night came flooding back, he said nothing as he began to kiss her neck and mouth. She stirred and tiredly pushed him away at first. She stopped when she opened her eyes and saw it was him.
"Morning." His voice was raspy.
She hummed in reply and rolled over so that she was facing him. She buried her face into his chest and tried to go back to sleep. They laid there for several minutes, but as they did so, Ben felt himself fully waking up. And that's when he comprehended what had happened last night. He inhaled sharply as he propped himself up on his elbows and looked over at Molly. She was just as bare as he was.
"Hmm, what?" she asked tiredly.
She was annoyed from being jarred in her sleep. He laid back down and stared at the ceiling.
He didn't know how to begin, so he just started talking, "Listen. What, what happened last night-"
"What about last night?" she mumbled, sounding disinterested.
"Aren't we going to acknowledge what happened?"
"I wasn't planning on it." A beat. "Why? Do we need to talk about it?"
She was laying on her stomach, but she propped herself up on her elbows. Her hair was tangled and sticking up on one side of her head and her face was twisted into a frown as she tried to blink the tiredness from her eyes. Although she was still half asleep, she seemed to recognize his anxiety, and she pushed herself forward, and took his face in her hands and kissed him firmly on the lips.
"What? You're not embarrassed, are you?" she asked.
"What? No."
The truth was, he was just not expecting it. That was all. He was still trying to come to terms with how this detail now fit into their situation.
She continued, "Last night happened because I wanted it to."
"No," he said, "this was not just you. I wanted it as well."
They both moved to kiss once more, but they were interrupted by a knock at the door. Both of their eyes snapped open as they separated. Molly pushed herself into a seated position.
"Hide yourself." She demanded in a whisper. "Quickly, pull the blanket over your head and pretend to be asleep."
She scrambled to collect her clothes from the floor. She pulled her too-big shirt over her head and grabbed one of the spare quilts from the end of the bed. She wrapped it around her shoulders and padded over to the door.
Ben did as she said, taken aback by how quickly she had taken charge. His mind was still reeling from the knock as he listened to her cross the room and unlock the door. All he could do was pray.
He heard her open the door.
"Hello?" she asked.
"Lieutenant Gamble, ma'am. Of the Royal Army."
It felt as if his stomach dropped. It was him. He had found him.
"May we come in, ma'am?" Gamble continued.
"I'm afraid I'm not at the liberty to say. This is not my house."
"Ma'am?"
What is she doing?
A second man spoke up, "Who are you? Last I knew, a Mr. Landan had claimed this property."
Molly didn't miss a beat, "Mr. Landan is currently asleep in his bed. Seeing as he is paying for my company, I do not wish to disturb him… May I be of any use to you though?"
Ben felt a shiver run up his spine. He had never seen her like this, and it frightened him how she could lie so well.
Gamble's voice, "I'm searching for a rebel spy. A man like that, you don't want him to see you coming. He's already killed a loyal minister in cold blood."
"A minister?" Molly sounded taken aback.
Ben silently cursed. He had purposely left out that detail.
"Have you seen or heard of any strangers hereabouts? Possibly one with a gunshot injury."
"I'm afraid not, Lieutenant." She said. "I arrived yesterday, and Mr. Landan never commented on the subject."
A third man joined in, "If he remembers anything when he wakes, do tell him to come into town."
The second man, "Mr. Gamble will be staying there."
"Of course. I'll be sure to do that."
Ben could hear the smile in Molly's voice.
"In the meantime, I'd keep your door latched and a musket handy if you've got one."
"Thank you, Lieutenant… And Lieutenant, if you find this man, I hope you make him suffer for his crimes."
"Thank you, ma'am."
He waited until the door was closed and she had returned to the bed. She pulled the blankets off his head. They just looked at each other for a moment.
"You killed a minister?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"A traitor." Ben snapped, suddenly feeling the need to defend himself.
A beat.
"What was that?" he asked.
"What was what? I got rid of your precious Lieutenant Gamble, didn't I?"
"You sounded like a Tory."
She scoffed, "Of course…. You sound surprised… Did you forget I've been living with the King's Army for the last three years?"
"I-"
She cut him off, and he could see the wheels turning in her mind as she continued speaking.
"Do you want me to follow him? …I can. I can kill him, if that would be best."
He sat up and grabbed her hand. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"Molly, no."
"Suppose you're right. One of the men who were with him could escape. Get back to town…"
"Molly-"
"There were only two of them. Locals though."
"Molly!"
She pouted, "What?"
He was staring at her in disbelief. Everything that had happened over the last several minutes… it was as if he didn't know her. He suddenly found it easy to understand why she was the only one in Setauket who had not been compromised.
"Stop." He asked of her.
"Alright." She sat beside him on the bed once more. She was quite for several minute. "Are you well enough to travel?
"Yes, I suppose so." He said hesitantly.
"Not now, obviously. But later. Tonight would probably be safest." She was thinking out loud now.
He let her continue to speak. It was strange to see her like this, but he didn't know what to do. She had acted so off the day before. But then, last night, it was like she was back to her old self. And then that morning… But now, things were different.
They waited until nightfall. Then Molly packed her things and they snuck out to the barn, still wary in case Gamble or any of his local volunteers were outside. They saddled two of the horses, and then they were off. Ben was riding in front, for he was the one who knew the way. And they left the cabin behind.
Author's Note: The reasoning behind the sudden shift in POVs... If it's not clear, Molly is suffering from a nervous breakdown. I was uncertain how clear that might be to a reader seeing as Molly's perspective is the only one we ever get to see. I was worried that if I continued that narrative style, this breakdown wouldn't make as much sense. As I've said, she is an unreliable narrator. So I'm hoping that Anna's POV in 3x01, and Ben's POV in this chapter, as well as POVs in upcoming chapters will all contribute to showing how mentally unwell Molly is at this point in the fic.
Personally, I wish the tv series had gone more into detail about the Culper Ring members' mental health. We see it a little bit with Ben and Abe throughout the series (they're both very anxious people), and Caleb goes through a nervous breakdown of sorts in Season 4 after he's been tortured by Simcoe. However, those little details always felt glazed over. I didn't set out to include this subplot in fic. It just sort of happened. Idk, I like the way it's coming together... but I'll let you be the judge of that :)
Additionally, if you would like a more in depth saucy scene, please refer to my other fic "Things We Lost in the Fire" 👀👀