A/N: Nods to All Quiet on the Western Front by Erich Remarque with Constance's war speculation.
Constance had always pegged Tobias Fife as an odd man, and well, she was right. However, what he had done today was somewhat bewildering. He had proved himself to be decent, despite his weirdness. Fife had comforted her after she saw Captain Bordon's corpse and was even kind enough to escort her to the plantation where all her feminine effects were kept.
"I'll say that I sent for you as your brother has been injured and may enjoy the affectionate company of his sister," he had said with his infamous smile.
"That's all and well, Tobias, but you forget my broken arm. Others have seen Joseph--"
"A riding accident is a very versatile and universal excuse, my dear girl." The lieutenant winked. He agreed to wait for her outside as she dressed, even though she promised it would take quite a while. Fife had merely shrugged, dismounted, and sat on the steps of the porch as she went inside.
She returned after the promised extensive period of time clad in pale pink. Tobias refrained from commenting on how it complimented her lips and cheeks--Constance had already been through enough. He boosted her up into the saddle of his horse and took the bridle to lead them to camp on foot.
"Oh, my poor darling brother!" Constance wailed, clamping her handkerchief to her forehead as she wilted back in the classic pose of the distressed damsel. "He is so pale and gaunt! Oh, surely he will perish! And I will do so as well out of my sisterly devotion! Oh, woe! Woe! Woe! Woo-ooooooo-oooe!"
William was not amused as she stood upright with a mocking grin. He still felt groggy and her shrieking did not particularly help the throbbing in his head. "Constance, please. For the sake of the others and me, please shut up!"
She sniffed indignantly and sat on the edge of his bed. "I came to cheer you up, brother. Some thanks I get. Quite being so negative--it'll only keep you in bed longer."
"Quite being so loud--it'll only keep me in bed longer," he hissed, massaging his temples. "How long ago was it?"
"Was what? The skirmish? Your operation?"
"How long have I been here?"
She shrugged a bit. "Not a full day, but almost. You passed out and I heard that you almost died on them. Bunny, you're so fraught, which has weakened you. You're proving to be a difficult patient in that respect. But then again, all the little heathens have been working on you--the fat old surgeon doesn't do anything at all beside delegate his duties to the others."
Tavington sank back in to his pillow with a moan. "That long? Jesus Christ on the cross, if I'm here another day, I swear to God I will--"
"Bunny! Watch your language."
"When I entered the King's Army, they handed me this little paper resembling a paper affirming passage on a ship. Except this one was for a boat crossing Styx. Beside that, you've already informed me earlier that I'm going to Hell, so what's the harm of a little more blasphemy?"
Constance was not entertained by his grumpy musing. "You should just shut your snide trap while you're ahead, brother. I would have thought that your little stint with death here would have been a life affirming sort of thing. You ought consider your options now."
"I'm considering my options, and I see right now that remaining a bedridden invalid is not one of them! I am no use--my whole legion is of no use--to anyone when I'm like this! I DO NOT WANT TO BE HERE!" Each syllable of the last sentence was stressed heavily through his gritted teeth. "What would the Lord General think of my lazing around here?"
"William Tavington, you are of no use in the saddle like this. You will perform greater deeds once you have recovered!" his sister snapped. "To Hell with Lord Cornwallis. If he's that pissy, he ought to go do his own fighting. Otherwise, he should be damned appreciative that cannonballs aren't flying at his prissy rump." She carried on grumbling how war ought to be fought with large clubs by the generals tied to each other at the ankle.
The colonel ignored her. "I'll be up and functioning by the end of the week."
---
There is no reasoning with that man! He can't look beyond his duties to those who need him sane. Constance went for a stroll, fuming internally about her lummox big brother. Why could he not enjoy a few days' respite as anyone else would?
Because it's William, that's why.
She was sure he had been a bull-headed little thing from birth. She knew that she had always known him to be that way. The Tavington males just had no sense of humor. They were mighty fine dancers, but otherwise there was not a bit of joy within them. It was no great shock that they made formidable politicians and lawyers.
His injury piled atop his stubbornness was just peachy--greatly convenient. There was no doubt Constance was out of action for a while, but now her brother was especially bent on riding off to get himself killed. Somehow, she would have to devise a plan to keep an eye on him. The easiest solution involved a fancifully large cage dangling high in the air, with him shackled inside. But William would not let that happen, so that idea was right out.
The woman flopped down on the banks of a creek, likely the same one that trickled through the skirmish site. She rested her broken arm across her belly and glared at the water, as if her problems were its entire fault. Constance soon noticed someone sitting beside her.
"I hope I'm not bothering you, Miss Tavington," the person said.
With a brief glance over, she saw that the new arrival was the source of all her woe.
"YOU!" she spat, scrabbling to her feet. Constance stood over Benjamin Martin, quivering with venomous rage. The Ghost's worn face looked even more so than she remembered it, but it did not really matter to her.
"Careful, miss. It would be hard for you to explain another broken arm if you slipped."
"So what? It would be a minor victory for you as you seem to enjoy trying to exterminate the remainders of my family!"
His eyes pinched tightly shut, and his lip shook a little. "Please, do not begin on that page, Miss Tavington. The pain of that thought is more than I can bear."
"Serves you right then," she returned condescendingly.
Martin was insulted, and his face stiffened as he drew his knees close to his chest. "Miss, I did not come here to quarrel with you. I saw you here and thought that just maybe we could sort some things out."
She shook her head, adamant. "There really are no things to sort out, sir. I am not a person with the power to negotiate, nor are you, whatever it is you yokels are trying to prove. I really care less what you fools do with this so-called independence you are trying to win. I want no part of it except my poor brother got mixed up in it. I'm all for letting you yahoos run about, leaderless and panicky, because sooner or later you'll come simpering back to the Crown."
"That's not what I'm necessarily talking about."
"You want to sort some things out with me? Fine. My only request: leave my brother alone. He is only doing what he is told. You on the other hand, act of your own will. Leave him be."
The rebel colonel shook his head ruefully. "I cannot honor that request."
Constance sternly shook her head. "Then there are no things to be sorted out." She turned on her heel, holding her aching arm close to her chest as she stormed away. Strangely enough, Constance felt really good. Maybe, just maybe, her brother would be proud of her for taking shots at the Ghost in his defense. Now if only they were literal shots….
Next chapter: Will argues with his sister some more before
she forces him back to his bed.
Author's comment: Hmmm, is Constance's hissy fit the reason Ben Martin does his whole heroic return to the militia. Uh, well, actually, I don't remember that specific part of the movie because I haven't seen it in a great while.