Raise a Flag Till You're Free

MackenzieW

Disclaimer: As usual, I do not own any characters associated with the American Girls series. I wish I did, but I don't. So there. I also don't own any of the lyrics that appear before the chapters to set the mood. In this first case, the song "Is Anybody There?" from the musical 1776. The title is also a lyric from "The Flagmaker, 1775" from Jason Robert Brown's Songs for a New World.

"I see fireworks/I see the pageant and pomp and parade/I hear the bells ringing out/I hear the cannons roar/I see Americans, born Americans/Free forever more" --John Adams, "Is Anybody There?" 1776
He didn't think it was going to be this hard or painful. Or cold. Who knew it could get this cold in places? He didn't. And his uniform didn't keep him warm, nor did his blankets. At least he had shoes. He couldn't believe it when he fell into line next to someone with rags on their feet. "What happened to your shoes?" he asked.

"They fell apart in Trenton," the other man said.

"Why didn't you get a new pair?"

The man laughed. "You're new to the continental army, aren't you? You'll soon learn that we are not the richest army in this war, son. Wait till your shoes go. You'll be wearing rags on your feet."

"But…surely Congress helps?"

"Them? They're sitting nice and warm, arguing with each other. We're not going to see any help from them, trust me."

"Then the general must…"

"He's too busy fighting a war against one of the best trained armies in the world, son. He can't be bothered with shoeless soldiers."

"Oh…" They walked along in silence for a bit when the older soldier sighed.

"What's your name, son?" he asked.

"What?"

"What's your name? Unless you want me to keep calling you 'son' the entire war."

"Benjamin Davidson. Or Ben."

The other soldier smiled. "Name's Charles Porter. I'm from New York. You?"

"Oh, I'm from Virginia."

"Whereabouts?"

"You know Virginia?"

"I've got a sister down there. In Richmond."

"I'm from Williamsburg, Yorktown originally."

"Ah. I'm from the Hudson River Valley area…near Albany."

"I don't really know New York," Ben replied. They kept walking. "Why are you fighting?"

"For my children. I want them to be able to earn their fortune and not have it taken away from them by the British," Charles replied. "You?"

"For freedom and a chance to govern ourselves," Ben replied proudly. His façade fell once Charles started to laugh. "What? Those are honorable reasons!"

"Oh, yes, they are…it's just so typical of the young men fighting here," Charles explained. "They come in with these idealistic reasons why men like me have more rational reasons." He sighed. "The young ones also have this romantic notion of war. It's not pretty, you know that?"

"I'm starting to learn that," Ben admitted, honestly. Charles nodded and from that moment, took the young soldier under his care.

A few weeks later, the two men were sitting in a camp around a fire with some other soldiers. All were trying to keep warm and read letters from their loved ones by the glowing embers. Ben smiled as he read his from Felicity—she could write a book! But he loved her letters. She wrote about everything that happened in Williamsburg, let alone the Merriman household and store. He could almost hear her voice telling this to him as they sat in the backroom of her father's store.

"That's a lot of news," Charles commented. "Did they tell you everything down to the last detail?"

"I wouldn't put it past Felicity," Ben laughed, continuing on to hers and Elizabeth's latest prank on Annabelle.

"Felicity? She your girl?"

"Felicity? Uh…well…you see…uh…" Ben was at a loss. What was Felicity? She wasn't like his sister. She was a friend and he could say that. But there was the confusion of who she was to him. Felicity Merriman was the spunkiest girl he had ever met, the one who broke through his shell of being the youngest of four brothers. She had supported him, helped him, talked to him…not to mention starting to become a beautiful woman.

He had left right after her thirteenth birthday, though why he remembered that escapes him. He had wanted to leave earlier, right after his eighteenth birthday, but she had pleaded. Said her thirteenth was important and she wanted him to be there. He couldn't refuse. He guessed he also owed her; she delayed his inevitable meeting with the reality of war. It was at the party when she came down in her new dress that Mrs. Merriman and Nan had worked hard on that he noticed how beautiful she looked. He had never considered her as a sister but at that moment, he didn't know what she was to him. Ben looked to Elizabeth, standing next to him, and felt only brotherly love for her. Not what he felt for Felicity…but what did he feel?

"Hello? Ben? Cat got your tongue? I'll go hunt it down and get it back if that's the case," Charles joked. "We might get something good to eat."

"Here, here," another soldier said, chuckling a bit. He and a few friends were now watching Ben and Charles intently. "So, boy, is this Felicity your girl?"

"She's…the daughter of the man I was apprenticed to. She's a friend, that's all," Ben replied.

This seemed to please the other soldiers, who drifted away from the fire to try to get some sleep for the night. Charles remained, chuckling slightly. "Oh, son, you are in over your head," he said, folding up his letter.

"What?"

"You and this Felicity."

"I told you. Felicity and I are just friends—she's my former master's daughter."

Charles chuckled again. "You may fool some of the other men here, but you can't fool me. I have three sons of my own. One's also fighting in this war—unfortunately, on the other side."

"I'm sorry. It must be difficult to face your son on the battlefield," Ben replied. He knew it was difficult for Elizabeth and Felicity, though now the former was starting to think more independently of her family and was toying with the idea of becoming a patriot. But that was nothing compared to Charles' struggle. "I can't imagine it."

"Neither have I. Thankfully, the Lord above has decided that we shouldn't fight each other on a field of battle," Charles explained. "But back to the topic at hand—you and Felicity!" Ben groaned. "Now, now. As I said, I have three sons. My eldest, the one fighting for them red coats, he's married.

"He married our neighbor's daughter, Jane. Now, he and Jane grew up together but weren't the closest of friends. Anyway, they hit that age—the one where you and your Felicity are right now. How old is she, anyway?"

"Thirteen. She'll be fourteen in April," Ben replied. "And she's not 'my' Felicity. She's just Felicity."

"Of course," Charles said, patronizingly. Ben sighed. "Where was I? Oh, yes, Edward and Jane." Now it was Charles' turn to sigh. "One minute she's just the neighbor's daughter, the next he's all nervous around her. Making sure he looks decent, stumbling over words, blushing and not knowing exactly what Jane was to him. Sound familiar?"

"But that's Edward…that's your son," Ben argued. "It's not me."

"Isn't it?" Charles stood up. "I'll tell you one thing, I have another son that's younger than you. About your Felicity's age. And he just noticed Mary, a local girl. It's repeating again. Good night, Ben."

With that, Charles left Ben to contemplate everything. The boy was so confused he didn't realize that his friend had called her "your Felicity" again. With a sigh, Ben stood up and went to bed.

The battles pushed Felicity out of both Ben's and Charles' minds for a few weeks. Until the next letter, then Charles started to convince Ben he as in love with Felicity and a few of the men would tease their fellow soldier mercilessly. But Ben, despite his protests and blushing, liked it. He wished war didn't have to involve people dying, but more of this male bonding over a camp fire. He loved those moments, when they were sharing stories of home, why they were fighting and just poking fun at another person.

He also enjoyed the heart-to-heart talks he had with Charles. Charles became his third father, but right behind Mr. Merriman as the one he was closest to and learned from. Ben, for his part, was filling the void of Edward. Charles couldn't fight next to his son, but a pseudo-son was fine by him. He was happy to watch over the boy, give him tips and steer him into realizing his feelings for this Felicity he heard so much about. Some of the new recruits always confused Ben and Charles for being actual son and father. Which was quite funny considering the two looked absolutely nothing alike, but they chalked it up to how close they were. From that point on, the other men in their company referred to him as Charles and Son.

The first time Ben was injured in battle, Charles sat next to him for as long as he could. Ben never felt such relief as he did when he opened his eyes to see Charles reading a letter next to his cot. "From the wife?" Ben croaked out.

Charles jumped slightly, but relaxed when he saw the young soldier staring at him. He chuckled a bit, folding the letter back up to stick in a pocket. "Yes. Christopher and Mary are really getting along well. And my eldest daughter, Susanna, has been corresponding with a soldier in this company. I'll have to find him and give him a stern talking to."

"Well," Ben replied, smiling, "you know it's not me. Never been to Albany, now have I?"

"No, besides I dare say that your Felicity wouldn't be happy with you writing to my daughter, now would she?"

"She's not my Felicity!"

"Which reminds me!" Charles pulled out another letter. "This came for you while you were sleeping. It's from your Felicity."

Ben took the letter. "Thanks. And she's not…"

"…not your Felicity. Right. I'll go get you something to eat," Charles said, leaving Ben to read his letter in peace.

Ben handed his letter to the post man as Charles watched. "What did you say to your Felicity this time?" he asked. Ben sighed. He had long given up trying to convince Charles that she wasn't "his." But the more he protested, the louder this voice in his head screamed about how much Ben wished she was.

"I'm hoping that the letter reaches her in time for her birthday in April," Ben explained. "It's almost a year since I left."

"I'm reaching two years this summer," Charles said, sighing. "I miss my wife and children. The things we give up for freedom."

"But it'll be worth it in the end," Ben stated.

Charles laughed, but this time it was a hollow laugh. It frightened Ben a bit. "There's the idealism of youth. Can you predict the future? I can't. We can only hope for the best."

"This revolution is for the best. Maybe not now." Charles snorted at this. "Fine. Not now, but once it is over."

"What if we don't win?" Ben was silent. "I see you haven't thought of that. Idealism, bah." Charles stalked off. Ben chased after him.

"We have to believe we will win. If we don't, we won't," Ben argued, jogging along side the man to keep up with him.

"Quite philosophical for a shopkeeper's apprentice," Charles shot back.

"Better than you keep calling my beliefs idealism," Ben answered. Charles stopped, allowing Ben to catch his breath.

"That's what they are, Ben. There's nothing wrong with idealism, but sometimes you have to put yourself back into reality. You know that if we lose, this revolution will be nothing more than treason? And if we lose, I expect that the King will be swift in his punishment of us. Make the Stamp Acts and the closing of Boston Harbor look like child's play."

Charles sat down on a log, looking very tired. "I fear for my family if we fail," he whispered.

Ben sat down next to him. "Then why are you fighting against the British?"

"I told you. You're young, you ought to remember."

"Then why do you still fight even though you are scared for your family?"

Charles seemed to ponder his answer for some time. He leaned forward, figuring one of the soldier's flags. It was the one for their new country: white stars set against blue next to white and red stripes. "I guess there's still some of the idealism of my youth in me as well." Ben nodded and the two sat in silence.

The smoke didn't seem to want to clear. It made Ben's task more difficult. He couldn't see a thing, only as far as he could stretch his hand out in front of him. It was better than during the battle, he had to admit. But now he kept tripping over discarded guns as well as bodies. Most were dead, but he had found a few alive. However, he hadn't found the one he wanted. Finally, he tripped over Charles' body.

Ben sighed in relief, leaning down to check his friend. "Charles, are you okay?" he asked. No response. "Charles?" Ben began to panic when the man began to cough. "Charles, tis me! Ben! Charles, come we must get you to camp. The doctor will be able to help you."

"No." The word broke Ben's heart.

"Charles, please…you can't give up."

"I'm not giving up. I'm just facing the truth of the situation. I won't make it back to camp. I'd rather die out here. Just promise me two things."

"Of course, Charles. Anything," Ben said, tears freezing to his cheeks.

"There's a letter," Charles gasped out. "It's hidden under my pillow. I wrote the day I entered this war. It's a good-bye to my family as well as my last will. Please post it as soon as you can."

"I will," Ben promised. "What is the other thing?"

"That you will go and be happy with your Felicity. Hear me?"

"Yes, sir," Ben replied, more tears freezing to his cheeks. "I promise."

"Good lad. Now, will you stay with me? I've accepted death but I'm not brave enough to face it alone. I would rather I go with someone holding my hand." Ben nodded, and sat there, waiting.

It didn't seem the same without Charles there. Ben found the letter the man had told him of, but there were problems with the curriers. No mail would be received or sent for quite some time. He carried it around with him always, even in battle. Someone would find it and mail it for him, he was certain. He also wrote a letter of his own, to be mailed to the Merrimans if he were to die on the battlefield as well. Another soldier Ben had gotten close to had already promised to mail out both letters if need be if Ben would mail out his. He agreed.

The battle was intense. Then again, all battles were intense, but this was the worst to Ben. Perhaps it was because he was still grieving Charles. Perhaps because he was tiring out after two years of battles. Perhaps the enemy was just getting better. Who knew why, but Ben was tired and the battle was just draining him. He collapsed on the ground, in fatigue, wishing just to sleep and never wake up until the war was over.

Through the smoke, Ben could make out only one thing. The flag—their flag. The American flag was still standing, still fluttering in the wind. It was torn and looked particularly shabby next to the Union Jack not to far from it, but it was still standing. It hadn't given up the fight yet.

Ben slowly stood. He would press on. For independence. For a spunky girl named Felicity and her family. For his family. For Charles and his. He watched as a soldier grabbed the flag, running forward with it. Inspired, Ben felt his fatigue leave him and he rushed forward, following the raised flag.

It was at that battle that Ben was captured and taken as a prisoner. He found one of his guards looked awfully familiar. One day, he gathered up enough courage to approach him. "Excuse me?" he asked, as the man delivered his food.

"Yes?"

"I am sorry if this is a bit rude, but what is your name?"

"Edward. Edward Porter. Want my rank as well, prisoner?"

"No," Ben replied. "Are you from around Albany, New York?"

"Yes. What are you getting at prisoner?" Porter was angry now, but Ben knew what he had to do.

"Was your father's name Charles? He fought for the Patriots?"

"Yes and yes. Why? Do you know my father?" Porter's demeanor had changed from angry to desperate. "Why are you referring to him in the past tense?"

"I'm sorry," Ben started. "I fought with your father and…"

"He's dead, isn't he?"

"Yes, sir," Ben replied. "About a few months ago."

"I see," Edward said. "Thank you, prisoner."

Ben reached over for his letter. "Here. Your father wanted me to post this to your family after his death. Unfortunately, I never got the chance. Perhaps you could send it to your mother and siblings?"

"Certainly," Edward said, shakily reaching out for the letter. "Prisoner, what's your name and where you from?"

"Ben Davidson and from Williamsburg, Virginia," Ben replied.

"I'll remember you," Edward said, walking out of the cell. "Thank you."

Ben looked out the small window in his cell and spotted a battle not too far away. He spied the flag on the ground, tattered and dirty. After a few minutes, a young soldier about his age grabbed it and hoisted it up. He stuck in the ground before rejoining the battle. The flag fluttered in the wind. And Ben was proud.

A/N: Well, I've decided to do another AG story. This will not be focused primarily on the Felicity series. In fact, the next chapter stars Sam, Addy's brother. I hope you all enjoy it! Mac