The Letters, a turn fanfic

I don't own.
This is not meant to be historically accurate, just a slight warning.
Featuring Dad!George, Eldest son!Ben, Middle child!Laf and youngest son!Alex.
Inspired by the letter Arnold wrote Benjamin in 4.01 but set in 3.09/3.10.
Please enjoy.

Ben was flat on his back on his bed when Alexander entered, sitting up as he came in, and letting the man he saw as a little brother sit next to him.

"Hey, Ben, you look a mess."

"I missed it, Alex, how did I miss it?"

"From where I was sitting it looked like you were the only person who suspected it."

"Thats the issue, I worked it out, I thought he was a traitor, and then I dismissed it. I had no evidence, just my own hunches, and I was sure I was being paranoid, oh, and now this."

He handed over the letter, closing his eyes.

"A letter? When did this arrive?"

"A few hours ago, paid courier from a town called Haven, I sent some men, but I doubt they'll find anything."

Alex didn't take long before he was on his feet, pacing, not that the letter was long.

"As I know you to be a man of sense, I am conscious you are, by this time, fully of opinion that the real interest and happiness of America consists in a reunion with Great Britain. I have taken a commission in the British Army and invite you to join me with as many men as you can bring over with you. If you think it proper to embrace my offer you shall have the same rank you now hold, in the cavalry I am to raise.That bastard."

"Do I really seem so honourless?"

"To him, sure, I mean he has no honour, why would he think anyone else does? But Ben, we both know you'd never turn, not from the cause, not from this family."

"Alex..."

"He's deranged if he believes otherwise."

The door opened and Laf let himself in, sitting himself onto the chair that from under the desk. Alex dropped back onto the bed next to him.

"How is he?" Ben asked.

"Stressed, worried, upset. He wishes this hadn't happened or that he'd foreseen it. He can't work out how he missed it? I do not think he should be alone, but he has asked to be left alone. How are you both?"

"Angry."

"Tired."

"Uhh, the men you sent to Haven returned with this, Ben."

"Anything else?"

"Non. But they said they would give their report tomorrow."

It was another letter.

It was Arnolds handwriting.

Benjamin,

I know you are a man of honour, and that you believe in the same things I do. You proved it today when you shot not at me but beside me, allowing my escape.

You know as well as I do that the Continental's cannot win, and a man of your strength and skill is not only being wasted by Washington but will be wasted when you lose. I can't bear to see you hang; you deserve so much better. Your loyalty does you credit, but it should not be your death that you let a misguided loyalty to a doomed cause be your own damnation. I know you know this to be true.

You do not deserve your honour or reputation to be further corrupted by a man like Washington nor his undeserving bastards whom he puts into command around him. How are you to be respected with the likes of them around you. You earned your place; they were awarded theirs. It overshadows all your work. Those cheats, Hamilton, Lafayette, they've done no real work, yet they get credited while you get cast aside and overlooked and ignored.

Look at your rank compared to theirs, and when you have outlived your usefulness, they'll cast you aside. They flounce General and Colonel, you remain a Major. It's cruel and unfair.

You would have status and power here, you'd never have to worry about money or safety, there would be no more assassination missions or any missions that would compromise your integrity of character or soul. You'd be respected.

Your true friend,

Benedict Arnold.

He wordlessly passed it to Alexander and collapsed back on the bed, pressing an arm against his eyes.

Beside him he could feel Alexander shaking with rage.

"I'm going to kill him."

"What is happening?"

The rustling of papers suggested Alexander was giving Laf the letters.

To his credit, Lafayette didn't speak until he'd finished the letters, but once he had...

"These are a joke, correct. These slanders. He cannot seriously believe Ben would ever..."

"He's deranged!"

"He's obsessed. That's what he is. The whole time we've been at West point, how Arnold looked at you Benjamin, he was... I do not know the word. Fou."

"Crazy. I thought he was jealous of how close you were to Washington, because it felt like he'd fallen out of favour, but now I wonder if he was jealous of how close Washington was to you. But some of these claims, they're completely nonsensical. This cannot be the writings of a sane man; he cannot believe this would persuade you. I don't understand why he is so obsessed with turning you and..."

"He wants to make you his. He wants you to respect him the way you respect Washington, but in a twisted perverse way that only makes sense in his mind."

"It's not new, he was very determined to hire me before Lee revealed himself. I thought I was imagining it. Then again, I thought I was imagining the signs of his being a traitor and turns out I was right about that."

"We have to take these to the General."

"No, Laf, we can't. He's already so stressed. He has enough to worry about."

"No, mon frère, he would want to know. Arnold has been gone less than a day and has sent two letters, how many more will he send, and how threatening may they become? You could be in danger. Please, the General must know."

"Laf is right, Ben, he needs to know."

"Tomorrow morning. I won't burden him with anything else tonight."

Laf abandoned his chair to join Ben and Alex on the bed.

It had been a trying day.

Sometimes family needed to deal with things together.

George was fuming.

How could that monster do this to them?

How could he betray them? For money, for power, for respect?

Had he no honour?

Arnold's poor wife had finally calmed, but he knew her sudden bout of insanity had shaken Lafayette, Benjamin and Alexander as they'd had to hold her before she could do harm to herself.

Benjamin and Alexander... he'd barely seen his oldest and youngest sons since the reveal of Benedict's treason. He'd seen Lafayette, the boy had come to comfort him that evening, once everything else had begun to calm and he could claim time for himself. It was probably the best choice of the three men, because of his boys', Lafayette was the calm one. Benjamin and Alexander had more powerful tempers than he did some days.

But he knew Benjamin would blame himself. His eldest son always blamed himself, seemed to think his role as head of intelligence meant he was supposed to know it all. No-one could know it all.

This wasn't something his boys needed to be dealing with on their own.

Mind made up; he left his room for the corridor his sons' rooms were all on. The chances were, they were all together, but finding the right room was the task. Would they be in Alex's room, or Bens? Chances were, it wouldn't be Lafayette's, he had been with George for most of the evening.

"He's deranged!"

Ben's room. Alex's fiery yell had come from Ben's room.

If there was a response, he couldn't hear it, this wasn't a tent, the walls muffled most sounds.

He paused; would his sons want him there? He'd failed to recognise the threat Arnold presented, the bastard could have killed any one of them and he'd had no idea of the man's treason until Brewster had come charging in. He'd been selling them out, and George hadn't known. Had Ben? Had he suspected something, anything? Once again seen something he himself had been blind to.

Arnold could have killed any one of them and he had no idea the man had been a traitor. Why should his sons trust him when he had failed them so? Would they separate themselves from him, push him away?

"We have to take these to the General."

Take what, he wondered?

"No, Laf, we can't. He's already so stressed. He has enough to worry about."

Oh Ben, you're my boys, stress for you will never anger me. It's my job to take your burdens, I chose this role.

Arnold was sending Ben letters! He thought about Valley Forge, Lee's betrayal, Arnold offering Ben a place in his service, and the way the man referred to Ben and how he treated him, undeterred in his attitude the same way he would be with money or his wanting a battlefield position. It was no secret Benedict had wanted his boy working for him, but to go this far, to send letters after betraying them all...

How dare he?

"Laf is right, Ben, he needs to know."

"Tomorrow morning. I won't burden him with anything else tonight."

George let his forehead drop quietly against the door. After a few seconds of silence, he gathered his courage and opened the door.

All three of his boys were on the bed, jolting up at the sound of the door. He closed it quietly behind him, and they made room for him on the bed. The offending letters were discarded by the pillow, but he tried to ignore them.

He sat back, with Lafayette on his left and Alex then Ben on his right, holding his sons close.

"Are you boys all well?"

"We're managing, Sir. The real question is, how are you?"

"I had no idea, I didn't see. I didn't see it until he fled leaving disaster in his wake."

"You couldn't have known, sir."

"But I should have. Especially with how much time I spent with him, there was a time I'd have considered him a brother, and he knows how close I am with you three, so now the British likely will too. God, what if he'd tried to kill one of you before leaving and I hadn't known he was a traitor..."

"He didn't, Sir. But he escaped, and I missed my shot and I'm so sorry that I did. If I'd been faster, I'd have stopped him."

George knew Ben believed every word of that. Had he killed or injured Arnold, the whole situation would be different. Instead, the bastard had escaped unharmed and apparently had even left a taunting message.

Why hadn't Ben acted on his hunches, why hadn't he felt he could come to him?

George knew they knew he was right about them being at risk, the danger they'd been in. If Arnold had wanted to strike a blow, it would have been easy to kill Ben by the water's edge, instead of the salute Ben said he'd been offered. Or he could have slipped something into Alex's drink, or Laf's or Ben's. God, if Arnold had killed one of them, it would have been on him for not working it out. If Arnold had chosen to strike, he'd have been responsible for the death of one of his sons.

He tightened his hold, seeing his boys relax against him.

He needed to hold them close, to reassure himself they were safe and sound and alive.

"I'm so sorry I didn't work it out."

"Sir, no-one could have seen this coming."

"Don't lie to me, son. You did, Ben, you worked it out."

"I had no proof, it was a hunch, I had no idea until today."

Ben had worked it out. But he hadn't said anything... because he worried about how George would react after Lee, because he thought George would be offended at an accusation of a man he'd practically seen as a brother?

Why?

He'd had no proof, so he'd said not a word? It made George feel ill to think Ben hadn't trusted him with this. Trusted that George would trust him.

That Ben still wasn't trusting him, those letters.

"No, you'd been suspicious for days, I'd seen it, it's why I asked Alex to tell you to investigate after that letter. I saw your face when he burnt it. And when you went after Arnold, no-one told you he was a traitor, they told you someone names John Anderson had plans with his writing and you put all the pieces together."

"But only because I was suspicious, maybe to the point of paranoia. No-one else with the information put it together, his rouse was solid, the only reason I worked it out is because my job requires me to mistrust just about everyone. Especially after what happened with Sackett."

Even now, all this time later, and he could see Ben blaming himself for Sackett's death.

He stroked the boy's arm in an attempt to soothe him. It was also to soothe himself, to know his boy was here and safe and alive because Ben had worked it out.

Ben had worked it out and instead of coming to tell him about the treason, he had gone after Arnold himself, earlier that day. If the man had been armed, God, he could have lost his eldest right on that riverbank. He wouldn't have even known until they'd found his body, maybe alerted by the shots, maybe when the next patrol went past, maybe looking for Arnold's escape route.

The day had been so awful, but God, if Ben had died too, if someone had come up to him having already been betrayed to tell him his son had been found killed by said traitor, George wasn't sure how he would have been able to go on.

He couldn't help but think about those letters.

Were they threats? Was Arnold threatening something, threatening to kill them perhaps?

Were they excuses, begging for Ben to understand why he did what he did or to protect his poor wife?

Why Ben, why not write to George directly?

What did he want?

He let his hand brush against them as he shifted, using it as an excuse.

"Secret admirer, Ben?"

All three of his boy's stiffened in his arms. Was it a mistake to ask, instead of waiting for them to come to him?

"No, sir. I was going to wait until morning..."

"Benjamin?"

"I... there from Arnold, he wants... he wants me to join him."

Join him? Join him!

He dropped his arms and breathed out, "He what?"

Any worry he'd had about having to act surprised about the letters was wiped out by this.

"He's insane!" Alexander spat, "The offer, the wording, it's nonsensical."

"He thinks me honourless."

"Because he's honourless, he's driven by greed and ego. His appeals, they're all about money and rank and being respected. He can't understand being devoted to the cause for nothing more than the sake of the cause."

"Boys. Please."

None of them would look at him, and Ben's posture, why did he look so crushed by this?

"May I read them?"

"Of course."

Benjamin passed them over, but he kept his eyes down and his head turned.

It took all his power not to crush the letters in his hands. How dare Arnold insinuate these things, how dare he imply Ben's disloyalty?

How dare he try to take one of George's boys from under him!

Alexander seemed pretty accurate in his assessment of the mental stability of the writer of the letter. That or Arnold had managed to completely misunderstand the relationship they had.

Or maybe he understood it well enough but was hoping he could put a divide between them, sow doubts into Ben's mind.

Ben had enough doubts without this.

He reached over Alexander and squeezed Ben's shoulder.

"He's wrong, Benjamin, in his assessment of your character. In his own corruption he cannot see the truth but I know. This does not shake my faith in you, not one bit. Benjamin, look at me."

Alexander snuck out from between them, and Ben turned to face him, but refused to meet his eyes.

"He's wrong."

With the next morning came more work and new revelations. They needed to interrogate André, they needed to assess the security of all their spy rings, they needed to evaluate West Point's security.

George needed to manage his boys, because somewhere in the night their offence and anger had turned to planning.

"We could use it. Lay a trap."

"No." he's replied, appalled at Ben's very suggestion.

"You would go undercover?" Lafayette, at least, seemed hesitant.

"No, I can't, he'd want the Culpers and other information we can't lose, but we could use these," he gestured with the letters, then brought them to his own chest, "me, to set a trap for Arnold."

"Ben's right, he's been borderline obsessive; he'd likely come himself rather than sending someone. It would be a good chance to capture him."

"No!"

George stood to emphasise his point, his chair falling behind him. He couldn't believe Alexander and Benjamin were entertaining the idea.

"No, I will not let you risk this. We can get Arnold without them; we will not feed into his delusions."

"It could be our best shot at capturing him."

"Or it could get you killed, Benjamin, or dragged into British territory. Arnold may promise you a rank but you know once they have you, they will torture and kill you. Your information is too valuable and you are dangerous to them. I will not risk you falling into their hands for this."

"He is right," Lafayette added, and George was relived at least one of his boys saw sense here, "Arnold thinks we cannot win, he thinks more of us will jump ship and that you, Ben, will lead them to him. If no-one comes to his side, the British will think him a loss to them. If you go to him, if you even hint that you want to, they will believe he is in the right, and the British might give him more money and power for it."

"Keeping you out of his hands could ruin him."

"He failed to give them West Point, he needs something to offer."

"And if he has nothing, they will not give him the power he craves."

"But if we give him something, he and the British desperately want, we can capture him."

"And if the British decide you're too important to be left to Arnold and send someone else?"

"Will they not want to give him a chance to prove himself?"

"Will you risk your life and the lives of every man under you on that chance?"

"How many men will Arnold kill? How many of our spies does he know? Our plans, our tactics, he has to be stopped."

"Not at this risk. We will stop him, Ben, but not at the cost of you. We have people in New York and all across British occupied America, we will capture Arnold."

"But..."

"Enough. I will hear no more of this foolish plan. You're smarter than this. Both of you."

Unable to spend a second longer listening to his son plan what would all too likely be his own destruction, he forced himself from the room. There were other things to do.

Troops to inspect, rations to take stock off, anything but think about the letters, and Ben's plan.

George understood sacrifice, he understood taking risks, but Ben wanted to play into that madman's plan.

And Benedict Arnold was a madman.

A third letter had arrived that morning, in much the same tone as the first two. Appealing to Ben's honour, denouncing Washington's lack of honour and worse claiming how little Washington cared for him. How little Alexander and Lafayette cared for him.

He was trying to cut Ben off from them.

Just like before, when Lee had betrayed them and a void had opened between them. He was willing to admit it was mostly his fault, and had done so, but Arnold had been all too quick to try to get Benjamin into his employ.

He'd assumed it had stopped once Arnold had left, once they'd clearly fixed the issue between them and more importantly once Benjamin had said no.

He hadn't known there had been more letters, more communication in the time between. That Arnold had kept up an almost weekly correspondence regardless of whether Benjamin replied or not, or that Benjamin had kept up communication in return.

At first, he'd been furious to find out they'd been in contact that whole time, more so when he read the contents of some of the letters Benjamin had been written, but more than anything his anger came from knowing Benjamin had been backed into a corner and he'd had no idea. And God, the contents of some of those letters, looking back, were well worded to subtly create a divide.

Just like the new ones, except these were more obvious.

Arnold was a General, Benjamin was a Major, and Head of Intelligence or not, he hadn't been in a position to say no, to decline the letters, or to fail to respond to them. No matter how much he might have been happy to keep up the letters at first, in the end he'd been forced into a continued correspondence. And of course, in Ben not telling George, Arnold had likely assumed himself to be succeeding in whatever his purpose for writing Ben had been.

Somewhere along the line his old friend had changed, and his desire for respect and glory and money had overruled his honour and twisted his mind. You could see it in the letters, the way they went from genuine to twisted, slowly and almost imperceptibly.

George went from being a close friend to his betrayer.

Benjamin went from a trusted correspondent to... George didn't know what.

It didn't really matter.

George wasn't letting that obsessed bastard near his son.

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.
Please R+R.