A/N: Lotsa mushiness just for Izzy. Luvs ya, dude. And Ban Tarleton--better late than never! But, uh, imagine he sounds Liverpudlian because (if you haven't gathered from Mrs. Wilkins' abominable drawl) I am horrible with accents. Warning: Not an overly funny chapter.
Constance felt something was wrong as she returned to the home of the surgeon, Dr. Harrington. She hurried to untack Roxelana and ran into the house. The told one of the doctor's slaves to keep watch for a wagon of her brother's possession, then ran upstairs into Will's room.
His eyes fluttered open and he moaned.
"Are you all right, brother?" she panted, moving to his bedside.
"I will be if you would kindly stop running in here every few minutes to check on me." He said sarcastically. However, it was not his usual biting cynicism, but of a more benign and weary nature.
"Well, I have to worry. You're my brother."
He sank back into the pillows. "What is it now? You ran in here quicker than usual."
"I felt like something was wrong, is all. Since you were the one closest to death, I assumed something was wrong with you." She checked his bandages and brushed back his hair. "Anything interesting happen?"
"Oh, Tobias just threw a tantrum and rode off."
Constance sat down on the bedside. "What for?"
He mustered up a shrug. "I didn't hear much of it. He made no sense at all. You were mentioned several times--whether it was favorable or not, I don't know. I think he said he was going to get himself discharged or have someone report him as dead. He's lost his damn mind."
"Well, if he tries to get himself discharged, knowing Tobias, he'll do it in a manner that will get himself hanged. I hope he's all right."
A door was slammed downstairs and heavy footsteps clumped up the stairs. The door was thrown open.
"Have you seen your--oh." Fife looked like a madman. His hair was loose and he wore his uniform breeches, weskit and boots under a long black coat. A dark tricorne was shoved down onto his head, further darkening the circles under his eyes from lack of sleep. "Constance," Tobias said with something of a smile. He took a few steps toward her, but she recoiled.
"If you're going to rant and rave, I want you out of here, Tobias Fife. William needs his rest. And it looks as if you should get a bath and some sleep as well." She shielded her brother, face stern against the lieutenant. "And why are you in civilian clothes? You have a wish to be hanged?"
"Nope, nope! I'm not going to be hanged! I am going to dance!"
"Out if you're going to make noise then."
Fife snickered. "Silly woman. I'm free! They let me go because I acted like my brain had fallen out of my bleedin' skull! And it worked! Only they'll be along here later to look at him and see if he'll be fit to continue service. I doubt he'll pass their inspection, and then we'll all get to do as we please!"
"Well congratulations. Now get out."
Tobias nodded. "Very well. But come see me a while later. I need to discuss something with you." He bowed and marched out with a smile on his face.
"He grows odder by the second," she sighed. Constance kissed her brother's forehead. "I suppose I ought to leave you be now. I sent for our things--they should be here soon. I'll bring up some books later. Now get some rest."
"Kitty, I will rest as long as it takes for someone else to barge in here."
She chuckled and went to the door.
"And thank you, as well, Constance." His voice was quiet and earnest. "For your care and consideration."
The woman shrugged. "I'm your sister. Thanks are not required. Now get some sleep, Bunny." And with that, she left his room to allow her brother to rest and recover. He was coming along quite well. His body may still be weak, but his spirits are recovering nicely, she thought.
Constance did not visit Fife until after supper. He had taken his meal in his room, and that unsettled her as she ate silently with Dr. Harrington and his two daughters. Had Tobias really gone crazy? She had heard stories about the shock fighting had on some green troops, and she knew she was not feeling much like herself. With that in mind, she excused herself from supper and went to see him under pretense of checking in on her brother.
The sight that greeted her when he opened the door was relievingly sane. He had cleaned himself up, and his quarters were immaculate. Fife's finger held his place in a book--the introversion implied by his reading quietly was a little unnerving when considering his usual gregariousness, though.
"I-I-I, uh--"she began, peering around him.
"You were expecting a shit pile, eh?" He smiled, removing his glasses and tucking them away into his weskit. "And me in the midst of it coated in muck."
"Yeah, sort of. You've been a bit out of your head lately and a bit unmindful of hygiene."
"I'm sorry to disappoint you then. Perhaps the neater, saner version of me can find a way to compensate," Fife said, turning to look into his room. "I was about to go for a walk. You more than welcome to join me if you please, but I can wait if you don't." The man shrugged on his coat.
She stared down at her feet. "I'll go--no need to wait because of me."
"Don't be so accommodating, Constance. It's not like you," Tobias chided, lifting her chin. He smiled at her and tossed the book onto his bed. "Ready?"
Without a word, she followed him down the stairs and nearly crashed into him when he halted without warning on the bottom step. Fife hunkered down and scanned the area before slipping off to a shadowy part of the foyer. He motioned for her to be quiet and follow in a stealthy manner.
"What on Earth is wrong with you?" Constance hissed, marching directly to the foyer.
"What's wrong with you? Haven't you noticed Frances, the oldest girl?" he whispered, eyes wide in terror.
"Yeah, so? She's seventeen, what harm can she do?"
"She will cling to me as soon as she lays eyes on me and will let go about as soon as a starving wolf will let go of a hunk of meat. Frances doesn't quite comprehend that I am twelve years older than her and completely uninterested."
Constance rolled her eyes. "Oh, just go outside before I call her."
Tobias bolted out the door, dragging her along by the wrist. He trotted down the porch steps and headed toward the fields behind the house. Constance jogged after him, as he took long strides and unintentionally put distance between them. She squinted to see him in the deepening dusk. Sheepish, he stopped to allow her to catch up.
"Sorry." He offered his arm to her. "I'm used to walking by myself."
She took his arm, they continued on together. Constance gazed up at the stars trying to force their way into the darkening sky. Surrounding trees were faintly capped with a reddish hue as the sun set. The moon appeared low in the sky, full and golden this time of year, and she found it particularly lovely. Both were silent for a time as the walked through the tilled fields. Constance remembered that he wanted to speak to her. She turned to him to inquire, but saw he was looking down to ensure an obstacle free path.
"Toby," the woman said softly, giving his arm a squeeze. He came to a stop, too afraid of tripping either one of them if he kept on walking without paying attention to the dark furrows.
"There was something you wanted to say?"
Fife shrugged. "I've forgotten now--it wasn't very important to begin with, I can recall that." His voice was a little curt and unnatural. He was hiding something.
"Uh-huh" was her reply, suspicious and sharp. "Will told me that you were raving earlier, while I was gone, and that you mentioned me before riding off in a fit."
"Oh, that. Yeah. I was a bit frazzled. I had heard from Doc--Mr. Harrington--that he had met some officers the day before and that they were looking for me. Desertion and all that. I was frightened and had no idea what to do. A million things were racing through my head then. I was really worried for your brother, because if they found me, they would find him. The stress that would ensue from that sort of fiasco surely would not be good for poor Will."
"You were worried for Will?" Constance was incredulous and touched. "I thought you hated him."
"No. I've always thought him to be a decent enough man, just a bit of a workaholic." Fife smiled slightly. "He and I have been getting along quite swimmingly since he's been confined to bed. He's much…calmer because of it, and therefore more jovial."
Constance was overjoyed. "So, you've gotten to meet my brother and not the colonel, eh?"
He nodded and turned to continue walking.
"Then what did I have to do with any of that?" She still was not satisfied.
"That situation would not have been good for you either, is all."
"Tobias."
"What?"
"You're evading."
"No I'm not. It just would not have been good. Follow my rationale here, if you will. The army searches out your brother and finds him. They take him back, expecting him to recover enough to fight again. You know as well as I that Will would adhere to that environment again and become just as acrid and obstinate as before. Just like that, you would have to follow him in all your brash, cross-dressing glory, and I would have to surface again to keep an eye on both of you. Except that wouldn't last long because they'd shoot or hang me because I deserted. Eventually, Will would get frustrated enough with you riding after him that he might turn you in. But that would be his downfall as well, since he knew about it. See, it would be a great big mess." Fife blinked a couple times--somewhere in the distance were gunshots and yells in mocking punctuation of his fears. He bit his lip, heart pounding. Almost out of instinct, he put his arm around Constance to keep her close.
"A bit fatalistic, but I understand." She gazed at him earnestly after a glance in the direction of the shots. There were whinnying horses now--dragoons. "I do not mean this in jest, Tobias. Are you all right? You have been a bit weird since the battle."
His voice became very quiet. "I'm still frightened Constance. I saw what this war was all about and I killed people for it. Let them have their independence, because I'm not willing to kill anyone else for my ideals anymore. It was fun and games until I had to look at a man--a person who may have lived up the road from me, for all I know--and kill him. We didn't do much in my old regiment, and I thought I could come out in the end and say 'Look at me! I'm an officer!' without having to take a life or dozen for it. And then I started to think that it just was not worth it, to kill so many and lose those you hold dearest just to keep a bit of land. It was not my place to judge who lived and died there, but I did it anyway. For that, I cannot stand to go back to the army, the dragoons, whoever." The man paused a moment and snuffled. "Call me a coward if you will."
"You're not a coward, Tobias, and I have never thought that of you." She kissed him.
He was taken aback by her affection and managed a faint smile. "Thank you, Constance." Fife inclined his head toward the fighting as he rummaged through the pockets of his overcoat. He pulled out his pistol. "They're close by. Don't need Jimmy Wilkins and company charging through and reclaiming your brother or me. Don't need a bunch of hooligans shooting us, for that matter." Grumbling about Wilkins, Fife poured in the powder and shot and then rammed it down. "Stay close, my dear. I don't think I'd be able to adequately explain to your brother if something happened to you."
They held hands as they walked back toward the house, Fife glancing back over his shoulder for any sign of danger. Constance thought he was being too cautious until the dragoons cantered into the field with a short young fellow at their head. Wilkins was still a captain, something that likely stung him now that Tavington was out of commission and the captain the one most likely to take his place. They were literally Green Dragoons--the whole group was resplendent in green jackets faced in black with brilliant white breeches. Fife's finger went to the trigger as he moved defensively in front of Constance.
"Evening," the young colonel called cheerily, nodding to the woman. He reined in his mount and addressed Fife. "I wonder if you would be able to help me."
"Who are you, if I may, sir," Tobias answered a bit edgily.
"Certainly. Lieutenant-Colonel Banastre Tarleton of His Majesty's Green Dragoons. See, we are green now. The other fellow must have been color blind…." He smiled wryly. "Anyhow, I am looking for--"
Constance came forward and curtsied. "Pardon my interruption, sir. The other fellow? Do you mean Colonel William Tavington?"
"Yes, him, madam." His eyes run over her, stalling in some places before Fife shot him a look.
"Colonel, I humbly request you do not speak ill of my brother. He has given his best to the service." She stared fixedly at the young officer.
"Ah! Forgive me, Miss Tavington!" The dragoon beamed winningly at her. "Please, sir, put away your gun. Your safety is assured. Now, Miss Tavington, you are exactly the person I--"
"Sweet Jesus! It's Lieutenant Tobias Fife! How'd you git away!" Wilkins saw Fife and launched into a vehement fit. "Sir, sir, sir! Colonel, sir! He's a deserter! Kill him! Please, please, kill him!"
Tarleton rolled his eyes. In one of those strange moments Providence decides to have a little fun, both Tarleton and Fife barked: "Dammit Wilkins, shut your trap!"
Tobias had found yet another new friend.
"Now, Miss Tavington," Tarleton continued, "you are exactly the person I'm looking for. Well, sort of--you can take me to the person I'm looking for."
"William is in no condition for visitors, and I do not believe the kind surgeon and his family are willing to have visitors this late," she replied.
"Forgive me, Miss Tavington, but this is business of Earl Cornwallis. I must see Colonel Tavington." His tone was a bit forceful. "I would be grateful if you would take me to him."
"Very well then, Colonel."
"Would the lady care to ride with us? It is dark and we did have a little soiree in the woods with a group of bumpkins a moment ago. You might be safer in our midst, and Captain Wilkins would be more than happy to give up his horse, won't you, Jimmy?"
"Yessir," Wilkins grated bitterly, preparing to dismount.
"No thank you, sir. If you've just skirmished with rebels in the woods, methinks they are more likely to shoot into the men they just fought than two civilians on the ground." She squeezed Fife's hand, and he grinned recklessly up at the dragoon prior to turning and trudging up to the house with his arm around Constance.
Doctor Harrington was nervous about the dragoons riding to his house. He locked his daughters into their room before admitting Tarleton and the officers that accompanied him. The remainder of the dragoons surrounded the house. Fife apologized to the doctor and tried to quell his fear of his house being looted. Constance lead the dragoons up to her brother's room, the doctor following close behind.
"Brother, are you awake?" she called softly through the door.
"Am now, Kitty," he groaned. "Come in." Tavington was panicking--he heard spurs. This could not be good. They're coming for me….
The woman opened the door and directed Tarleton in. She lit a lamp and indicated her gaunt brother stretched out on the bed. Will started wheezing in fright, his chest heaving. His ghostly pallor aged his features as he looked around frantically. Tears slipped through the creases of his face. No more of this please--I don't want to go back!
"Constance, don't let them take me! I'm sick! I cannot fight anymore!"
The young colonel padded to the bedside. "Calm yourself, sir. We mean you no harm."
"Who are you? What do you want?" Tavington rasped. He tried to lift his head, but found the wound in his collarbone would not allow it without intense pain.
"I am Lieutenant-Colonel Banastre Tarleton. I have assumed your command until you are well, or permanently if my surgeon determines you unfit for the service. Now be still, and this will go quickly." He motioned for an officer who had followed him up to the room.
"Where is my sister? I want her here before you commence."
"I'm here, brother," Constance answered softly, coming over to take sit beside him. She took his hand. "Shhhh, Will, everything will be fine. I promised to keep you safe." She eyed Tarleton, trying to determine if she could somehow bargain with him if need be.
But it never came to pleading:
The surgeon thoroughly examined William's wounds. He looked up grimly and shook his head at his superior. "He is lucky enough to be alive, sir, but I doubt he will fully heal to be of any use to us. Let him go."
Next chapter: Epilogue *the Author hears the dramatic Also Sprach Zarathustra (ok, the fanfare
from 2001 Space Odyssey or whatever it's called) as the end approaches*