Disclaimer: I've bought the rights to Tavington so he now belongs to me. No one else is allowed to write about him from here on out and he is mine to do whatever I want with. evil look creeps into her eyes ... Yeah right!
A/N: Look I updated! Are you all happy! glances at one reviewer in particular ;) Thank you everyone for the reviews. I appreciate all your opinions and the fact that you all returned to read this story. I'm not exactly sure where it's going but feel free to hang around to find out. :D And special thanks to Eccentric Banshee. Your support in reading my story even when you were so sick made me feel very humbled. I don't deserve your admiration. hugs Banshee Alright, on to the story. Enjoy!
Colonel Tavington and Captain Bordon found themselves sent out on their first scouting mission the very next day. Bordon was, again, not at all surprised to hear that they were being sent out to search for the Ghost. It was a pointless, futile mission but Bordon suspected Cornwallis had thought it up merely to get Tavington off the fort premises. There was no reason to state his opinion of the matter because his commanding officer was doing it enough for him as it was...for the last several hours at least.
"Find the Ghost, he says. As though I will just run into him while riding around South Carolina like a damned idiot," Tavington seethed under his breath.
Bordon managed to stifle the sigh of annoyance that arouse. Instead, he silently renewed his promise to God to try and strengthen his patience.
After another hour of riding, the Colonel's ranting had subsided to only an occasional mutter, much to Bordon's relief. Soon even the muttering ended as the road passed into a quiet, beautiful forest. Any sound made seemed to instantly be swallowed up amongst the numerous, tall trees. Tavington forgot to complain or grumble at all. He was to enthralled to remember to be angry. His sharp blue eyes were constantly moving, trying to take it all in at once. If there was one thing Bordon had learned about his superior, it was that beautiful things were always the quickest way to distract his easily irritated Colonel.
In so many ways, Tavington reminded Bordon of a little child. He threw tantrums when things did not go his way, thrived on attention and would do almost anything for it, was apt to say or do whatever the first thing was that came to mind, and most of all delighted in beautiful things with the same innocent enthusiasm as a child. It was amusing as well as irritating. Bordon could only assume that the reason for these characteristics came from such an oppressed childhood. Tavington had been unable to do all the silly and fun things that a child was want to do. His father had been a bully and a drunk, making for a very bad father figure to a boy who only wanted to be treated with what every child needed–loving care.
However, the Colonel's lack of childhood and attention from the one person that should have mattered most made it easier to understand why he had turned into the man he was today. Tavington only understood violence because that was all he been taught as a child by his father. He also learned that fear was the swiftest, easiest way to subdue and control someone. He had realized that after watching his mother cower in front of his father for fear of what he might do to her. Most importantly of all, his father had taught him that without money, honor, or esteem a man was worth nothing. He was little better than a beggar.
And all though, he liked pretty things he also liked to destroy them. It was as though he was trying to figure out why something became beautiful and where and how it got that way. Every detail of whatever he became interested in had to be examined with complete thoroughness, pulled apart, and only then could it be understood. He had been witness to one such incident when Tavington had caught a firefly. For a moment, the Colonel had been all wonder and awe...then he had killed it to see how it glowed. He did the same to people. He would observe, learn how that person worked, discern any weaknesses, and then destroy that person whether emotionally, physically, or mentally. It was disturbing to watch and even more disturbing to have it turned on one's self. Bordon did not quite understand the fascination behind the whole thing but he never questioned his superior. It was safer that way.
After spending hours with Tavington in pubs he had learned a great many things about the Colonel. Enough to know it was easier to accept that Tavington just was not like other men. There were to many aspects about him that were to twisted and broken to ever be normal. It was almost sad. Bordon was just thankful his superior never remembered what he told his subordinate. He was sure most of what he had been told, Tavington had never mentioned to anyone. If Bordon ever mentioned it or let it slip even by accident, he would probably be killed–literally.
So he followed after the Colonel, observing and quietly taking note. He would sooth ruffled feathers whenever he could and clean up whatever mess Tavington left in the wake of one of his tantrums. He had no idea how he got recruited for the job, but he never complained. There was no point and no one to listen anyways.
"Bordon!"
Captain Bordon jumped slightly in startled surprise before glancing sideways at Tavington. "Yes, sir?"
"For Pity's sake, man, I have been trying to get your attention for the last few minutes!" Tavington snapped irritably.
"I am sorry, sir," Bordon quickly apologized.
"It appears that there is a problem up ahead," Tavington indicated the direction he mean. He did not seem to hear or feel like acknowledging Bordon's apology.
Bordon obediently followed his Colonel's gaze to where a wagon had fallen over into a ditch on the side of the road. Two boys, one about eleven and the other perhaps fifteen in age, were doing their best to turn it back over. The mule that had been presumably pulling the wagon was happily munching grass near a woman that was tending to her pretty daughter, who seemed to have been injured. Bordon glanced over at Tavington wondering what he planned to do, but Tavington looked to be waiting for his captain's opinion. Should they stop and assist or carry on with their assignment?
Bordon cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should assist them," he suggested quietly.
"You think so?" Tavington said in a disinterested tone.
"Yes."
"And if they are Whigs?" the Colonel pressed.
Bordon knew Tavington was testing him, another little game he found amusing. He knew he must answer carefully. "I believe, sir, that General Cornwallis would be pleased to hear we helped them no matter their political sympathies."
In other words, Tavington knew Bordon was saying it would be the perfect way for him to get back into the General's good favor. Tavington would act like the gentleman Cornwallis wanted which would please and surprise him hopefully enough to take back a few days from his "punishment." And then, of course, Cornwallis always had particular interest in fine looking women and that was definitely a good term to describe the two before them. Tavington sighed heavily. He did not like women. He had to many unpleasant experiences involving them. It was better if he stayed away from them altogether but if this was a way for the General not to think of him as a total savage then he would have to behave. It did not matter if he thought the only thing women were good for was–
"Colonel?" Bordon interrupted his thoughts.
"We shall help them," he decided with little display of enthusiasm.
Tavington reined his horse in as the drew up alongside the women. The two women stared at them with a mixture of fear and awe in their eyes. He studied them for a moment, taking in every detail. Obviously, these women came from a family with money. Their clothes spoke of that for them. Their dresses were beautiful and made by very skilled hands. The daughter appeared rather tall for a girl. She had brown hair and hazel eyes. The mother had the same color eyes but had wavy honey blond hair that was pulled back in a loose twist at the back of her neck. He glanced sideways at the wagon. To him, it looked as if they had been heading towards the nearest town when the mule had spooked and run off the road, tipping the wagon.
He took all this in to account in only a matter of seconds. He forced himself to adopt a polite, genial manner that went completely against his nature. He felt like he was composing himself for a stage performance as he smiled pleasantly at the two women. "Good afternoon, ladies, you appear to be having some trouble–"
"How very observant," the girl muttered softly, apparently thinking he could not hear her. His ice blue eyes fixed on hers with a dark look lurking in them just below the surface. She went still, glaring up at him defiantly. He did not say a word to her, but continued on as though he had not been interrupted, yet his eyes never left hers.
"Perhaps, we can be of assistance to you," he finished in a quiet tone.
The older woman gave her daughter a warning look. "We would be most grateful to have your help, gentleman," the mother smiled politely up at him.
Tavington dismounted, unhooking his medical supply bag from the saddle. On a scouting mission it was always a good idea to bring some kind of medical aids just in case. It would be put to good use now. He turned to Bordon and handed him Audrey's reins.
"Go see what you can do about that wagon, Captain," he instructed before walking away.
Bordon lingered for a moment longer, an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. This was going to end with trouble, he could feel it. He watched as the Colonel knelt by the women and asked about the injury the girl seemed to be suffering from. Bordon shifted anxiously in his saddle. Tavington glanced back at him with a stern glare and gestured for him to get going. It was pointless to argue when the Colonel had made up his mind.
He went over to where the boys were now arguing over the best way to pull the wagon free. After several minutes of calming them down enough to find out what had happened to the wagon, he began to relax somewhat. He had not heard any warning signs of trouble from the Colonel's direction. Maybe he was getting to paranoid, he thought as he inspected the wagon. Being around Tavington to much was beginning to wear severely on his nerves. That thought just crossed his mind when he heard voices sharp and angry coming from the direction of the women. He turned around just in time to see the girl swing and slap Tavington square on the cheek. The sound of flesh hitting flesh resounded loudly. Bordon pressed one hand against his eyes as the Colonel completely lost his temper. He could not quite hear the loud, angry words but he clearly heard Tavington say "Damn wench!"
Bordon cringed and hurried over before it went to far.
"Watch your language, sir!" the girl snapped. "I am a lady with delicate ears!"
"And not so delicate hands!" the Colonel shot back nastily from where he crouched by her feet with one hand pressed to his smarting cheek.
The girl flushed angrily. "Why you rude, barbaric man! You are little better than a...a Viking!"
The mother tried to stammer out an apology and calm her daughter at the same time with little effect. Bordon stepped in before Tavington could retaliate. He quickly apologized for the Colonel, pushing his superior firmly out of the way. Bordon might have thought the situation amusing if it were not for the fact that any possible moment Tavington might let his temper turn to violence. The Colonel was glaring scathingly at the girl, as Bordon gave her his best charming smile and tried to put her at ease. When the girl seemed to have calmed, he carefully suggested that the Colonel go help the boys with the wagon.
Tavington stalked away but not before Bordon distinctly heard him mutter. "This is why I prefer killing people over helping them."
In the end, the wagon could not be saved. It was left behind when the two officers escorted the women and boys to the nearest town. The boys rode the mule while the women rode in front of the men on their horses. Thankfully, Tavington had been given the mother of the motley crew to ride with. It was not as bad as it could have been, he guessed. Bordon had the girl in front of him. They found she had little more than a badly sprained ankle. Of course, Tavington would have been able to figure this out, just as quickly as his captain, if the girl had not spouted off stupid words about modesty then promptly slapped him. He had only been trying to examine her ankle for God's sake!
Now the damn wench seemed quite happy and genteel as she rode with Bordon. Bordon had carefully wrapped up her injured ankle and fussed over her almost as badly as a mother hen (or so Tavington thought anyways). She was now laughing and flirting sweetly with his subordinate, not even noticing the pain in her ankle. Bordon only seemed to willing to return her flirtatious attention. Tavington clenched his teeth together in disgust, silently seething to himself.
Women.
He hated women.
Colonel Tavington walked stiffly out of General Cornwallis's office, feeling ready to destroy something. He had just under gone a humiliating meeting with his superior, explaining why he had failed to find the Ghost's hideout or his true identity. On top of that, he had to tell Cornwallis why he had large red mark in the shape of a hand branded on his cheek still. He had to not only face the General's ridicule at his ineptitude, but put up with Cornwallis almost laughing outright at what had happened to him. To make it all ten times worse O'Hara had been there the entire time Tavington had to report. His worst enemy had heard every word of what had happened. Yes, finding some helpless colonists to shoot down sounded like a wonderful Tavington," General O'Hara called as he stepped out of the office.
Tavington's shoulders went tense as the pansy general's voice grated down his spin. He stopped in the middle of the hall, and turned to face his superior respectfully.
"That is quite the encounter you had on your scouting expedition," O'Hara smirked.
"Oh?" was all he could manage through his clenched teeth.
"I must say I find it highly amusing that a girl gave you more trouble than the Ghost seems to have. I would be delighted to meet the girl brave enough to raise a hand against the great 'Butcher.' I do hope I am able to hear the next humorous scouting report," O'Hara said smugly as he walked up to Tavington.
Tavington wished more than anything he could punch the little prick in the face, but if he did now it would be the end of his career and his hopes. They both knew it. He fisted his hands against his sides, but said nothing. He would not rise to the general's bait.
"Dear Colonel Tavington, no matter how you try you will never be given the recognition and honor you desire. I will make sure of that," O'Hara murmured as he passed him.
His fists trembled at his sides. It took every inch of control he owned to not turn around and pummel the porcelain pansy senseless. He could feel O'Hara's smug satisfaction as clearly as if he had spoken it.
You will not be so smug much longer, you little bastard, he vowed silently to O'Hara. You will regret the day you ever crossed paths with me.
raises her hands to ward off the objects thrown at her I know! I'm sorry! But O'Hara will get what's coming to him soon! Don't worry! I can't just let that pansy stomp my baby for to long without some form of retaliation. So just hang in there y'all!
Until next time!