A/N: Just on a random tangent--corsets are very fun. Call me strange, but I bought one today and I love it. Yeah, yeah, it's got the steel boning and all, very high quality, and surprisingly comfortable (*yeah, as I pass out*). Everyone go buy a corset 'cause I said so. Oh, Will's middle name that I just randomly pulled out of the air amuses me.

Constance returned to camp in a huff. Whatever or whoever stood in her way as she went to her brother stood a good chance of inciting her deadly ire. The woman barged into the hospital tent, determined and fierce, and shoved her way through the doctors to her brother's partitioned cot.

What she saw there infuriated her even more. The cot was empty.

WILLIAM GODFREY TAVINGTON! She screamed it in her head for the sake of the others in the hospital. To keep herself from breaking something nearby, she started to chew on her fingernails. It was a habit induced by stress or fear, and as tensions were high, it was a wonder she had fingertips when she stormed out of the surgeon's tent.

The next logical place for him to be was back in his quarters, brooding in his chair. And that's where he was, poring over his papers. He would shift uncomfortably--obviously it was his injured side acting up, but Will would not dare sacrifice precious work time or pride for his health.

"Do you have a death wish, man?" the sister shrilled, flying at him. The tears almost forced her to stop and collapse in a broken heap, but she needed composure to reason with him. Reason--if it can be called that!

"Constance, my dearest, I assure you that I am quite recovered. You don't need to worry about me." His voice was soft and diaphanous--clearly pained.

She gnawed on a fingernail for a moment before continuing. "Brother, I just saw you wince. You are not well at all. You are only killing yourself with this façade of bravery. You aren't fooling anyone. You are hurting." Constance sniffled. "I know because I am hurting too, Will. You do these stupid things and because I love you, I plunge in headlong after you. And that's just to try to keep you safe. I cannot lose you, William."

The colonel had nothing to say. His face grew slack from the love in her words, and for once in his life, William felt that someone actually cared about him. But that emotional stuff was transient. Work conquers all.

"Kitty, I know. The last thing I want is for you to be afraid for me. I need to watch out for you. I do love you, Constance, but some things just need to be done."

"You love me? Really?" Her face grew bright through the tears.

He nodded with a wan smile.

"Then started acting like it!" Now she was rigid and icy.

Tavington's expression clouded over. He was throwing all his energy into the show of anger. He felt as if he were about to crumple to the ground, he was so weak. "Constance Tavington, that was impossibly cruel for you to say. How dare you ever doubt my affection for you, my only sister? I have fought you this whole time only to keep you safe. But you throw your well being around in the same foolish stunts as me, then admonish me for it all? Looks like it will be two of us dying with a 'façade of bravery.'"

"Or each other!"

The colonel pounded his fist on the desk. The hollow 'thunk' came out weaker than he had hoped--a good rap on a table could shut up almost anyone. His knuckles were throbbing, and his right eye screwed up with the new little hurt that he would not voice. "Constance, as much as your display here has touched me, I have work to do. The King's army cannot stop for love."

"No, but the colonel of its mount corps will take a brief respite out of common sense--provided he has any, of course," Constance retorted snappishly. Her brow grew dark as she glared across the desk at her brother.

"Enough, Constance. Nothing short of a gun to my head would get me to go lay down now that I'm in the midst of something. Now, leave me be. I have work to do."

"Not if I have anything to do with it." She then sighed and produced her pistol. "Will, now that you've outlined the course of action, you leave me no choice." With the austere face of a stressed soldier, Constance adroitly loaded the weapon and pointed it at her brother. "Get up, William. You know full well I'm cracked enough to do it."

Tavington bent back over his work with a snort. "I've had enough for games today, girl. Let me be. Go caper around with Fife if you need to play."

"Get up!" she snarled.

With a furious sigh, he raised his eyes to her again. "Constance, you don't frighten me. Now, I suggest you go before I get angry enough to have you arrested for this." He punctuated it with a wave of his hand before returning to his papers. To his surprise, his sister vaulted over the desk, a move he assumed required great dexterity with a mass of voluminous skirts.

He was about to protest again when he heard her cock back the hammer. William gathered himself to get out a few angry words, but he stopped when Constance jabbed the end of the barrel against his temple.

"Right then, Kitty. What was it you wanted me to do?" he squeaked.

"Get up."

He hastily got to his feet. As William was a bit taller than she was, Constance pointed the gun into the crook of his neck and jaw. She prodded along back to his bed.

"God damn it, Constance! Quit this foolishness right now!" he growled now that he knew what she was getting at.

"Lay down or I will shoot you, William Tavington. I'm going to sit here and make sure you don't go anywhere."

He refused. "No. You've likely put in a blank round, assuming it would scare me. It did for a moment, but--"

"Do you care to find out if it is a blank round, brother, or will you take into account that I was a fully functional member of your corps before you found out who Joseph Carleton was? Or, that I have always enjoyed shooting and am a better shot than you? Bagging you at point blank is no problem, Will, if I could shoot you just the same running."

He huffed and got into bed as instructed. Constance grabbed a chair and seated herself a few feet away. Her brother glowered at her like a child being punished.

"Now then. Get some rest. I'm not moving from this spot. "

Tavington was greatly incensed. His own sister was holding him hostage! God, I hope the men never learn of this…. He knew he could have wrenched the gun away from her at any time, but he did not like the fact that he may have hurt her. She also could not bear the thought of harming him, so it was best to cooperate and play her silly game and allow her to believe she had won. But then again, he was injured and she was a mite frazzled--he was slow and she only had to pull the trigger. In the end, it was not a gamble he felt up to.

Anyway, there were already plans for a fight tomorrow, and escaping Constance after nightfall would not be hard.

William lay on his uninjured side, facing the tent wall. He snickered, deciding to bide his time until she fell asleep.

Next chapter: The battle of (*author does finger quotes and says in a cynical voice*)

"Cowpens", and Constance defies her brother with the usual reckless abandon…this time with help.