Chapter Fifteen


Disclaimer: I do not own T.P.


A/N: This is one of the last chapters! Only five more!

In response to SteeleRanger: That's the secret! Don't worr, you'll figure it out later.

Happy Easter everyone!


Tavington lay in his bed, wide awake. His hands were behind his head, and he stared at the ceiling. It was about 2:30 a.m., and no method of growing tired was working. He blamed it on the nap he had taken earlier.

As he studied the designs on the ceiling, he thought about Lady Cardian. She would be visiting again in two days...he was almost dancing with anticipation.

And his thoughts drifted to Patricia.

Why couldn't he be rid of her? He knew how she felt. He also felt he was going mad. No matter where he went, she was there. The more time she was there, the worse he got. He knew what was going to happen if she didn't leave him alone - he would have an insane fit and hurt her. And in order to keep his job, he couldn't let that happen.

He needed to keep her safe - his job and last drop of 'honor' depended on it. But he knew himself better then anyone. Being friendly wouldn't be the easiest thing, but until he could find a solution, he would make do with the social skills he had.

He rolled over, his leg catching in a blanket and twisting painfully. He shook it out. No, no way was he going to stay here. He needed to move.

Getting up, he pulled on a loose shirt over his pants and stretched. No one else was awake at 2:45, who was going to check if he was dressing like a slob?

He quietly opened the door. Stepping into the hall, he closed it without a sound and began walking in this place that was just like a hotel. He passed door after door, knowing exactly who resided there. He went down a cold stairwell, and found himself passing the servant's quarters, where he stopped at room #283. He had to admit, it was eerie, standing at the room in the well-lit but very empty hall. There was no heating in this building, and he watched his breath come out in little puffs. He glanced at the room before moving on.

It was Patricia's room.

He made his way outside, the fort grounds totally empty, aside from the watchmen on night-shift who saluted him from atop their posts. He nodded to them and kept walking.

The shirt he had pulled on was very thin, and it made the cold seem even worse. Biting his lip, he sat down in the grass and looked up. There was nothing out of the ordinary, so he started thinking.

Subconsciously, his hand traveled up his shoulder to the once infected cut. He looked at the ugly scar tissue, and rolled his eyes. If only it hadn't begun stinging the day he needed it...

He thought about the church. It had been resting on his mind a lot, lately. He wasn't feeling guilty about it, but he questioned himself, 'Do I really need to show my better side when I'm about to do something bad?'

He wondered about it, but couldn't figure it out. It bothered him that no one else could, either.

He sat for another hour, before the ruffled shirt become frozen, and he had to go back inside. He walked up the stairwell, and once again, found himself in the servant's quarters. He stopped at Patricia's room again.

He knew what he was doing when he put his hand on the doorknob, and he knew what he was doing when he opened it.

Stepping inside, he saw the sleeping figure of Patricia, comfortable in her bed. Next to her bed was a nightstand, and on it was a journal. Knowing he wasn't supposed to be doing what he was doing, he silently walked over and opened it. He turned to a random page in the middle, and read to himself,

'Yes, Colonel Tavington is a gentleman, but I am afraid I am the only one who can see that. I have seen him humiliated and treated like an animal when Cornwallis is near him, and maybe he deserves it, but I can't help feeling bad. I can only hope he does not take it to heart, but knowing him, he won't. I know it would bother me to watch a dog eat steak and then sit down and eat leftovers.'

Heskipped around a few pages, until he finally found what he was looking for.

'...And that woman! I don't know who she is, except her name is Sarah Cardian. And I already loathe her! She treats me like, well, I won't say, but she is truly scary. The way she can watch someone..it feels like she is scanning me for faults. But my main question is, why does she stay around William? I've already told you how I bribed Mr. Bordon and O'Hara, and found she was his old girlfriend, but the word 'old' is in there. Although, she is one of the youngest looking women I've ever seen. Ah, well. I'm too afraid to ask Tavington who Ms. Cardian is, and I most definitely won't question where she stands to him.'

Tavington closed the journal, and put it back down. He looked at Patricia, and sighed. His hand calmly rested on the handle of his sabre.

He silently unsheathed it and held it out. It gleamed at the tip where a beam of moonlight shown in from the window. Very delicately, he placed the blade to her neck.

She stirred a bit, but didn't wake. He watched her, not daring to make the swing that would take her life. The curved blade teased him to make the tiny cut, but he held it at her neck, releasing the tension of killing her. In his mind, he imagined her begging for mercy right before he cut her throat. He did this, not out of pleasure, but to get rid of the anger building up inside him these last few days.

After a few minutes, he pulled the blade off her neck and sheathed it. He walked quietly towards the door, and closed it.

His footsteps echoed down the hall, and Patricia opened her eyes, smiling.