Letters Home: Between Two Worlds

by: Shadow Chaser

Story:

Sleep had been elusive earlier in the night before Harry Adamson pounded on the door to the house – but now, Ben knew that he was not getting any sleep for the rest of the night. Not with the grim faces of his father, Achilles, and Duncan that had greeted him upon his return home half an hour after seeing to Henry's wounds. He had been told that someone seemingly dressed in the greens denoting the Queen's Rangers had almost been caught outside of the house, peering into the windows. Duncan had frightened off the intruder attempting to climb into the house through the room he had been using as his temporary quarters. The intruder had fled, swift-footed across the packed snow, making the others think it was perhaps a native or someone who knew the lay of the land.

It had thrown all of Ben's questions regarding the origin of the musket ball that had been shot into Henry's shoulder into question. He had thought a soldier had sent a message, but now with the mention of forest green uniforms and potential natives...could it have been the Indian he knew worked with Rogers?

Though he had never witnessed Connor's abilities to leap from tree to tree with the barest of ease, he had seen his seemingly light-footedness and predatory stance when he had first met him at the Homestead. Maybe all natives had such abilities...and if it was true, maybe it did herald the fact that it was Robert Rogers was in the area. Which meant a lot of things, but Ben did not discount the fact that he and Rogers had an enmity for each other.

Duncan Little had offered to set a watch of sorts, but Ben had declined his offer, stating that he would keep watch instead and now found himself rounding the house a second time. He stepped carefully in his own previously made tracks, glancing occasionally down at the other set of tracks that had been the intruder's, mixed with Duncan's more frantic steps of pursuit. He had spent the last hour using the moonlight rounding the house, studying both the tracks and where the snow had been disturbed outside of the house as the mysterious would-be intruder had tried to come in.

Had Rogers' man wanted to set an ambush for him inside the house? Or was it not Rogers' man, but someone who was trying to throw them off their scent and attempting a feint of sorts. Was the intruder's target Achilles and Duncan, or even perhaps his father since they were all Assassins? That seemed the more likely cause, the more he studied the footprints and thought about the musket ball that had been shot into Henry. Like Harry Adamson had said, the Griffiths had a far more bountiful harvest, so there was no reason to attempt to rob the Adamsons of their meager grain. If his soldier's wound was a feint and ploy to draw him away so that an attack could be made on the rest of the household, then it had nearly succeeded.

That seemed the more logical choice, but Ben could not help but think he was missing something very important. Samuel would have known what to do, by virtue of seemingly having a quicker mind than he; it was how his brother was promoted faster than he was. He sighed, feeling the small ache of pain in his heart that he knew belonged to his brother Samuel. Just a little over a year since his death and Ben still missed him, especially since he had seen his father and enjoyed the first proper meal in over three years with him. Watching his father teach Duncan the finer techniques of rifling had brought forth memories he had not known would create such a hurt in him at the loss of his older brother.

He sighed again and rubbed his hands quickly, creating a slight warmth in them that he did not quite feel on his finger tips as he quietly entered the house once more. He shed his cloak and adjusted his uniform's jacket; the snow covering it earlier now dried. Heading into the parlor where a small fire was going, he stood near the fireplace and absently warmed his hands. Ben tried to push away the sudden nostalgia at the memory of his brother and instead focused on the mystery of someone attacking Henry as well as skulking outside of the house.

Perhaps it was Templars, disguised as the Queen's Rangers, or were even part of the unit itself, somehow finding out that Achilles and Duncan were here. It made sense to him; only because he knew he would have sensed something amiss while he and the rest of his small unit had ridden into town earlier. It so happened by luck or providence of sorts that he had gotten caught in between the Templars and Assassins. Or perhaps he had ruined the Templars' plans for Achilles and Duncan and they had regrouped to attempt to wound his men to draw him away.

But something in his thoughts told him he was wrong. That he was missing a key component; yet Ben could not figure out what. He rubbed his forehead in a small circle as he sighed wearily and sat down by the fire, staring at it.

"Samuel had that same look the night he decided to join the Continentals," the soft voice of his father spoke up at the same time Ben heard the creak of wooden floorboards being stepped upon.

"You should be asleep," he chided gently as he saw his father round one of the chairs and sat down in it. There was a candlestick in his hand as he set it on the small end table.

"As should you, my son," his father stared at him with a wan smile before shaking his head, "but I know all too well the sudden appearance of danger followed by the lull of peace after the danger has passed. Just as I know that you won't sleep until you've puzzled out whatever puzzle you have been left with."

"Probably someone looking to break in and steal valuables," Ben commented offhandedly, but the look he received from his father told him that even he was not buying the flimsy excuse. However, his father refrained from commenting and instead, smiled wistfully.

"When we received the notice that you had joined the Continentals, Samuel immediately stood up from the dinner table and declared that he would join the cause too," his father snorted quietly, "I think he was surprised that you would be so emboldened to join first. Perhaps thinking it a rivalry of sorts besides doing his duty."

"Samuel always did like competition," Ben remembered fondly, "climbing trees, being the muddiest, even swimming across the Sound. Rifling, letters to each other, even philosophical debates. He'd probably have already solved this current trouble I'm dealing with since he was far more observant than I was."

His father sighed and nodded in agreement before rubbing his lower lip. "Benjamin, there is something I must confess to you."

Ben saw his father flick a look at him before the wistful smile was replaced by a more grimacing look.

"I sent you away all those years ago because I did not want you to be a part of the Brotherhood-"

"But I chose of my own free will-"

His father held up a hand to stop him from talking further, "-I sent you away because I wanted you to choose. I...didn't allow Samuel to make that choice."

It suddenly made sense in Ben's head as he saw the metaphoric puzzle pieces fall into place. Like the clarity and revelation of a spirited debate where the carefully crafted words inserted themselves and made it known in a winning argument. And just like that, everything about his father, about the Brotherhood in relation to his family, and even Achilles' request made so much sense.

"Samuel was an Assassin," he said quietly, staring at his father in a whole new light.

"Aye, that he was," Nathaniel Tallmadge replied, "and he was my apprentice until the war broke out and he joined the ranks of the Continentals. He would have been apprenticed to one of the other Assassins, like Betsy Andersen at Yale, but she had deemed it too risky since we had all been in hiding since the purge."

"Or even Nathaniel Sackett," Ben added and his father nodded.

"Aye, if I had known he was alive back then...he probably would have been the best teacher Samuel could ever have," he said before sighing again and rubbing his chin, "Benjamin, you were the second son and I wanted you to live your own life outside of the Brotherhood." His father gestured roughly towards the stairs and the rooms above, "Now Achilles wants a Tallmadge to serve in the Brotherhood, even though I've already told him it is not my choice nor would I press you to make it."

"Why?"

"Achilles...sees talent, potential, and the chance to serve a goal and brotherhood greater than what anyone else can possibly imagine. He sees the chance for a greater good, a shaping of the world where free thought can reign instead of having such thoughts forced upon one's self," his father explained patiently though he looked pensive.

"What do you think Achilles sees?" Ben asked and caught the surprised look his father shot at him before a small smile curled the corners of his lips.

"Your observation skills have certainly improved since I saw you last," he said and Ben felt a small amount of pride swell in him at the praise. "I think Achilles sees power that if left unchecked would be squandered. That he wishes to control elements and people he thinks might have connections to power or be able to influence such power so it is favorable to the Assassin Brotherhood's long-term goals-"

"Which are-"

"-Something I will not and cannot tell you, Benjamin. There are secrets that even I am not allowed to tell those who are not of certain rank and order in the Brotherhood," his father shook his head, "but I will warn you that Achilles is persistent if not stubborn in his zeal for the goals of the order itself."

"Do you not want me to join the Brotherhood?" he asked.

"I can't say," his father looked tired.

"Can't say, or won't say?" he countered.

His father bowed his head for a moment before looking back up at him, "Would you have accepted my order I told you what I wished for you?"

"I would accept it as counsel," Ben raised an eyebrow at him and saw a smile appear on his father's face as he nodded.

"True, after all, you never really listened to any of my other missives and letters, especially about your expenses at Yale and the like," his father chuckled lightly and Ben smiled a bit, "so then you may take this as counsel. While a part of me wants you to join because it would afford you so much more protection in your capacity as the Head of Intelligence to General Washington, I do not want you to join for the same reasons.

"You would be drawn into a war far more deadly. A war that has already claimed thousands upon thousands of lives over hundreds of years. Families have been affected by the war between the Assassins and Templars; even friends, brothers, fathers, sisters, husbands, and wives have betrayed each other or discovered the other to be part of either order."

His father hunched forward a little bit, his fingers tenting together as he rested his chin on the webbing in between his thumb and index, "The Assassin Brotherhood follows three basic tenets, or a creed so to speak. One of them was to stay the blade from the flesh of an innocent. It is easy to say the Templars have no such qualms, but I can say for certain that neither does the Assassins in terms of following our creed. Innocence is subjective."

"I could very well be targeted by the Templars if they ever found out you were an Assassin even though I was never part of the order. Even though I'm technically innocent since I am party to neither order," Ben said and saw him nod in response.

"Even our informants or anyone we might rescue, target, or seek to influence can be either considered innocent or not. So, then who are we to say we must stay our blade from an innocent?"

"It seems like you thought about this for a long time," Ben said and his father sat back up, leaning against the cushions of his chair with a long sigh.

"I took my teachings as a Reverend seriously, Benjamin," he gave him a sideways look, "it wasn't for show nor for cover. I truly wanted to find something other than what I had devoted a majority of my life to; to understand why I had done what I had done in my line of work. Why I had raised my children so, and why I had lived my life in this way."

Ben was quiet for a moment as he considered his father's words. He chewed his lower lip for a moment before tentatively speaking up, "Do you think Samuel was captured and imprisoned on the Jersey because he was an Assassin?"

He never knew the circumstances behind his brother's capture, only that he had been and was sentenced to the Jersey as were almost all other officers who had been captured by the British. But now, with the revelation that his brother had been the one to take up the mantle of an Assassin instead of him, he wondered what shadowy power could have possibly conceived such a thing and if it was not as simple as a capture of a Continental officer. General Arnold had indicated that he knew his brother and had served with him, but he supposed it was just the capacity of being a soldier to soldier.

"That...I do not know," his father confessed with a shake of his head, "but Benjamin, you must not let paranoia take hold of you. Do not see the Templars and Assassins in every corner or else it will drive you mad."

Ben nodded, "I know, I know. I just..." He shook his head again, "Do you know what I told Connor the first time I met him? He knew that you were a part of the Brotherhood, but asked why I was not."

His father tilted his head for him to continue, "I told him it was because I wanted to someday raise a family. And that I realize to do that, I could not join the order." It was his turn to hold up his hand to silence his father from saying anything as he continued, "Samuel and I had a good life growing up, no matter the circumstances. But it's also something that I long realized since before Yale. It's something I'll tell Achilles each time he asks me to join. I cannot devote myself to anything else because General Washington has my absolute loyalty already. I cannot guarantee loyalty to a Brotherhood that may ask me to betray someone I long trust and hold sacred to myself without coming into conflict with them."

His father suddenly laughed lightly and Ben stared at him, puzzled, before Nathaniel shook his head, "Samuel said something along those lines the day he enlisted and brought his Lieutenant's commission. Except it was absolute loyalty to you, Benjamin."

The wistful smile appeared back on his face, "In hindsight, I think he was jealous that you were allowed to choose your path and perhaps resented that I forced him to train as an Assassin before he truly knew the sacrifices it entailed. To him, joining the Continentals and joining you might have meant that he would be at least somewhat free from the Brotherhood's goals and ideals – though we hardly had any goals before Connor's presence. Maybe it was to protect you from whatever influences the Brotherhood might exert upon you, maybe it was for other reasons, but I do not doubt your brother's intentions. His loyalty was not to the Brotherhood, but to you."

Ben drew in a sharp breath and stared at his father, stunned at the revelation. His older brother had what? At the same time he felt the same echoing pang earlier in his heart. Hearing that his brother had been so devoted to him to almost chase after him and sign up as soon as word had reached his family of his enlistment in the Continental Army. It certainly explained a lot about Samuel's actions when he had found out his brother had also enlisted and purchased a Lieutenant's commission. But to find out that it was because of some absolute loyalty to him? That touched him greatly. Even though Samuel was the older one of the two, he always followed him around, whether it was climbing trees, or even learning how to rifle with their father's guns. Granted, Samuel was the first one to learn by virtue of being the eldest, he always seemingly acted like Ben was the older one at times.

"I don't think Achilles realizes yet, but he probably soon will. Our family is known for its absolute loyalty to a cause, to a person, or even to an order whenever we put our bull-headed stubborn minds to it. I never realized where Samuel's was and thought I could direct his loyalty to the Brotherhood like I did. Little did I know, you already had his undying loyalty like General Washington has yours. The Brotherhood has mine, but I think at this juncture, there need not be any Tallmadges in the Order anymore," his father said before getting to his feet and patted Ben gently on the shoulder, "get some sleep son...it will do you no good for you to be dead on your feet tomorrow or even worry about the Old Man's persistence. The problem you are puzzling out will more than likely resolve itself."

The silence left in the wake of his father's departure was loud and broken with the occasional pop and crackle of the fireplace. Ben rubbed his eyes, feeling the scratchy dry feeling in them. His father was right, he needed rest and it was more than likely he was over thinking certain elements of the problem. For all he knew, it was his paranoia getting to him – the mounting frustration at events over the last few months reaching its peak. Washington would not defend himself against his detractors, Lee was a traitor, and his own incompetence and faults at not being able to control his agents was stressing him out. Adding to that was Achilles' request to join the Brotherhood and the fact that he had found out that Lee was a Templar. This latest incident with Henry being shot and someone found skulking outside the house was driving him mad with frustration and paranoia.

He rubbed his eyes again and stared into the fire. Even with his father's reassurance, Ben knew that he would not be sleeping tonight. Settling himself for a sleepless night, he leaned back against the high-backed chair he was sitting in and instead, let his thoughts wander.

The sudden high-pitched scream of a woman startled Ben as he snapped open eyes he did not realized had slid shut since his father had left the parlor. He was already up and moving, automatically grabbing his cloak and wrapping it around himself as he threw open the front door and ran out. He abruptly skidded to a stop at the horrific sight that was before him; the schoolhouse was on fire.

Ben's first instinct was to run to the stables. There he found a bucket that had been used for watering the horses and ran back out. He rushed to the well near his house and quickly pulled the rope to bring the cold, but unfrozen water from the bottom. At the same time, he looked up at the sound of the door slamming open and close and saw his father and several others hurrying out of the house, headed to the stables to pick up more buckets.

"Here!" he saw Duncan rushing towards him, holding two buckets and nodded as he filled his own and left the large pail on the side of the well for Duncan to fill the ones in his hands.

Taking the bucket, he ran as fast as he could towards the schoolhouse, mindful of the water inside. He could see the townsfolk already gathering, the men hurrying towards the schoolhouse with water pails of their own. Women and children were still rushing out, some into the outstretched arms of their parents while others huddled around the teachers. His steps slowed as he got closer to the burning schoolhouse. The flames had consumed the roof already and Ben knew in his heart that the large schoolhouse could not be saved, even with people still rushing back and forth, dumping snow and water on the flames in an effort to stave the fire.

"Major!" Ben turned to see Liam pushing his way through the crowd as he set his bucket down.

"Liam," he greeted, noting the soot and sweat that covered the young man's face and clothes. There was a shine to his eyes and Ben thought it was probably from the horror at seeing his former schoolhouse burning as well as by trying to help with rescue efforts.

"Major, Sergeant Davenport's still in there...was saying something about rescuing his children or something-"

Ben immediately looked back at the burning building and pursed his lips. He knew John would never leave until the last child was rescued – it was similar to how he commanded his division, waiting until the last man had retreated or was the first to advance into the fray. The back of the schoolhouse would be the most likely place to retreat as he studied the flames and grabbed his bucket, hurrying towards the back.

As he ran through the tall grass and bramble, shying away from the incredible heat that was melting the nearby snow, he heard footsteps behind him. He turned to tell Liam to stay behind, but instead, saw that it was Duncan, carrying at least one bucket full of water with him.

"I saw you head back here-"

"One of my men is inside, that idiotic bastard," Ben gritted his teeth as they rounded the burning building and to his relief, saw that the back had not been completely consumed by fire. The roof was definitely starting to smoke, but it seemed like most of the flames was eating the front of the building.

"John!" he yelled, cupping one of his hands to his mouth, "John Davenport!"

Duncan was silent beside him, but Ben caught an intense look on his face as he seemingly strained his neck towards the building. "I hear someone," the man said after a few seconds and Ben tried to focus his ears towards the building, but heard nothing.

"Where are they-"

"No," the older man's hand shot out and grabbed his arm as he shook his head, "I can pinpoint where they are, you cannot. I will go."

"But-"

"Throw the water in as soon as I kick the door down," Duncan said and Ben nodded reluctantly, as he grabbed his bucket and approached the door as Duncan readied himself to kick it down. He could see smoke already filtering out of the cracks and knew that they did not have much time to find Davenport.

"Now!" Duncan called out at the same time he heaved a heavy kick to the already weakened door.

Ben closed his eyes against the sudden burst of black smoke that shot out of the opening and held his breath as he threw the water blindly towards the open door. He thought he heard Duncan scramble through as the smoke stung his eyes, watering them and he coughed. At the same time, he accidentally inhaled a lungful of the black smoke and quickly stumbled back, waving his hand in an effort to clear the air. He cracked open his eyes as he tried to blink the involuntary tears from them, coughing again; there was no sign of Duncan or John as black smoke continued to pour from the doorway. He looked up to see that the fire had now started to spread down the back roof, quickly eating away at the dried wood, even with the small amount of packed snow on it.

Ben was so engrossed in watching for any sign that Duncan had found John and that John had found his children that he did not realize someone else had approached. It was only the familiar feeling of cold-hard steel of a pistol pushed against his the back of his head that he realized his initial gut feeling at been right. All of this, the shooting of his man and even this fire, it was a trap.

"Put the bucket down and raise your hands up, Major. My compatriots would like a word with you," Ben stilled at the voice that gave him the ultimatum.

John Davenport was never inside the burning schoolhouse. Instead, he was the one holding the pistol to his head. And the only 'compatriots' Ben knew of that was not the British, were the Templars – Sergeant John Davenport was a Templar.

~END Part 3~