Rufus snaked his way through the crowd of soldiers, craning his neck in a desperate attempt to get eyes on Lucy. Concern for her aside, he knew damn well that if Wyatt came back and found her missing, it was his ass that would be kicked first…and well, dammit, he wasn't about to sit around and wait for that to happen.

A sea of redcoats, however, had effectively cut him off from her and though he elbowed and squirmed his way through the pressing throng of soldiers, he knew he was effectively fighting a losing battle. Who was he in this century? Not anyone anybody would listen to, that's for damn sure…

"Lu—hey man, do you mind? I'm trying to…Lucy!" Rufus called as he squeezed through an ever pressing crowd of jeering soldiers. For every foot he gained, however, he lost..being pushed and shoved aside until he was practically back to where he started from.

What the hell was going on?

"She'll be alright," came Tom's voice over the din. As Rufus turned, he found his old friend smirking at him as he leaned against a pick axe, "Mrs. Poe caught wind of what was happening here and all but demanded these rascals bring your lady right to her." Tom chuckled, "I imagine they'll get an earful befo' it's said and done."

"What is happening?"

Tom lifted his shoulders and sighed, "Well that's just the thing…I don't rightly know. All I knows is that ol' Colonel McKee came galloping up to the place looking for Master John, all excited like and looking like he was ready to raise Cain when he found out he had run off with Mr. Wyatt."

Furrowing his brow, Rufus shrugged, "Why? Because of the French?"

"Nah," Tom replied with a shake of his head, "No, because of you all…he called ya "scoundrels and scalawags"...and well, I knowed there was no truth in it, but he upset the Misses something fierce."

"Why would he say that? Wyatt saved his life…"

"Like I said, I don't rightly know…all I knows is that when the French burned the farm and we found ourselves at Braddock's camp, he and Master John had a long talk off by themselves…and Master John, well, he looked sad and pale like right after, like he was the most sorry man in the world."

Rufus bit his lip in pensive concentration, his brain trying to piece together the entire mess, but nothing made sense. Why would the British treat Lucy like she was a damn criminal? What the hell had she done? What the hell did any of them do? Scoundrels? Scalawags? After everything they had done for the soldiers at John Fraser's farm? What the hell?

Finding no answers, Rufus shook his head, "Listen," he whispered, "I've got a feeling something bad is about to go down and between you and me, I'd rather not be here when it does." Tom nodded as Rufus continued in a lowered voice, "I still have some work to do for the Lifeboat…I gotta get that foil made…you think you can help me try to figure out how to do it?"

Tom frowned at him thoughtfully before nodding his head, "I don't see why not…better to stay busy anyway," he said nodding towards the soldiers, "maybe then they won't go a dragging you off too."


Lucy's bare feet slipped and slid through ice cold mud as she was half carried, half dragged through the camp, a jeering chorus of soldiers on either side greeting her on her way. She twisted and arched her body in a desperate attempt to find Rufus whose shouts of protest she could hear somewhere behind her. Her efforts, however, were in vain - the sheer number of curious on-lookers pressing in on all sides made it impossible for her to see anything but a sea of red-coated British soldiers.

She had just been drifting off to sleep again, cold and tired as she was, when the cabin door burst open with a force strong enough to almost knock it off its hinges. Rufus had tried to stop them, but before she could even register what was happening, she was dragged out of the bed, a soldier on either side of her, and pulled out into the elements. As confusing and terrifying as that had been, it was nothing to what she was experiencing now. Hundreds of soldiers wolf whistling, cat-calling and jeering as she was hauled off to some unknown place…and Wyatt, nowhere to be found.

As they approached a large tent towards the edge of the camp, Lucy mustered up the little of the strength she had left in a desperate attempt to break free. She dug her heels into the soft ground, her bare feet stinging with pain as the frigid wet earth enveloped them with a horrible squelch. Her resistance, however, was only met with more jeers and laughter, and while she did manage to slow their unrelenting march towards the tent, that development was short-lived. The soldiers, angry now, merely lifted her, until she was bicycling her legs wildly through the air.

"No," Lucy gritted out, as they reached the tent flap, "Let…let me go!"

Chuckling, the soldiers parted either side of the canvas entry and heaved her in, a chorus of laughter erupting as she fell, face-down on the ground below.

"Well, I never," a familiar voice exclaimed as Lucy gingerly pressed herself off the muddy ground. "No more manners than a pack of field hands…" As Mrs. Poe helped Lucy get to her feet, she tutted, "I tried to tell you your wanton ways would land ye in a heap of trouble…and now look at ya. Half naked in a camp of the most lascivious soldiers that ever walked the Earth."

"You?" Lucy asked, surprised, "what are you doing here? I thought…I thought…"

"The French burned the farm," Mrs. Poe answered quietly as she wrung out a rag and began cleaning Lucy's dirty face, "We barely made it out alive…though it appears you aren't faring much better…are you hurt, child?"

Lucy shook her head almost violently as tears sprang to her eyes. Stilling Mrs. Poe's hands, she gasped, "What do you mean they burned the farm?" Ignoring her, Mrs. Poe took Lucy's hands in her own and frowned in discernment, "Yer as cold as ice," she tutted, "and a right terror to look at." Crouching down, Mrs. Poe sighed heavily, "we'll need to clean you up if you're to be questioned by the General. It'll do you no favors to be brought before the likes of him in this state. "

"Why?" Lucy asked warily, a horrible sense of foreboding bubbling in her stomach.

"Why?" Mrs. Poe exclaimed in exasperation, "Heaven's sakes child, don't you know what they're saying about you?"

Lucy stared at her, hardly believing that the formidable old housekeeper was even here, let alone concerned over the harassment she had just received. If anything, according to Mrs. Poe, this treatment was to be expected…deserved even…for being half-naked in a camp full of soldiers. Not that it had been her choice. Yes, she was currently dressed in a nightgown that hung dangerously low on her shoulders…but that was hardly her fault. The soldiers were the ones who dragged her out of the cabin and marched her through the camp like this…she? She was just trying to get some damn sleep.

As it was, she had heard the condescending things the soldiers were saying about her as she was carried through the camp - "trollop" being the favored among them. She had attributed their name-calling, though, to the way she was dressed…which was not anything more or less than what Mrs. Poe had so often alluded to herself.

Scoffing, Lucy wiped globs of mud off of her arms, "I don't care what they say about me…"

"Lord have mercy on us all," Mrs. Poe breathed out in disapproval. "Child, you had better start caring," she warned as she attacked Lucy's face with the wash rag again, "or there will be very little any of us can do to help ye and that husband of yours."

"Why?" Lucy asked with sudden interest, "What's Wyatt got to do with any of this? Where is he?"

"Never you mind, the less you know the better off you'll be, I imagine." Mrs. Poe replied with a heavy sigh. "It's no use," she exclaimed, defeated in her efforts at ridding Lucy of dirt and grime, "we'll need to wash ye good and proper. Just a moment…"

Wiping her hands on her apron, Mrs. Poe disappeared behind another tent flap before pulling it open to reveal what was undoubtedly a laundry. Scores of women stood by large basins, stirring them with large poles, others hovered over hot irons, while others still sat in small circles, sewing up holes in breeches and shirts. Mrs. Poe made her way over to a large empty basin in the corner and barked out a few orders, before calling back to Lucy, "We'll have to wash ye in a laundry vat….it'll be a tight squeeze, but it's the best we can do I'm afraid."

"Where is Wyatt?" Lucy demanded, backing away from her.

"He's fine." Mrs. Poe assured her, "In a lot better state than you are, I imagine," she added with a tut. "I never saw such filth…"

As she made to remove Lucy's nightgown, however, Lucy darted away, "I'm not doing anything until I know where Wyatt is…"

"You're hardly in a position to be making demands," Mrs. Poe gritted out, roughly grabbing her arm and pulling her towards the wooden vat. "After all the trouble you two have caused, you better be glad they're not stringing the both of you up by your necks and asking questions later."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Don't play coy with me child," Mrs. Poe sighed in exasperation, "it's precisely what's got you in the fix you're in. Why did ye not say you weren't from Montauk?" she hissed when Lucy started back at her in confusion, "Mr. John wouldn't have held it against ye…did he not give you the food off his table, the very clothes off his back to welcome you? And how do ye repay him? By lying."

"How…"

"Never you mind," Mr. Poe tutted, her disappointment evident all of her face, "I always say God will reveal the truth of all things…and now that your lies have caught up with ye you…"

"We…we didn't mean to lie," Lucy insisted, "we…we didn't think it mattered…"

"Oh child, the best policy is always honesty," Mrs. Poe cooed gently, looking more careworn than she ever had. "I must say, Mr. John was cut to the quick by your deceit…he looks on you and your husband much like family," she sniffed, "but he still stands by you, good man…insists you were dishonest about your origins to protect your elopement."

"I don't understand," Lucy muttered, "why…why would they want to kill us just because we're not really from Montauk?"

"Land sakes, child," Mrs. Poe gasped, "Look around you…if you've lied about something as simple as where you're from…what else have you been lying about?" Shaking her head, Mrs. Poe sighed, "What with you knowing French and all…why, who's to say you aren't Fr…"

"I'm not!"

"I know you aren't." Mrs. Poe said bracingly, gripping Lucy's hand, "but these are dangerous times, my dear…and I'm afraid you've drummed up a good deal of suspicion about yourselves."

"Where is Wyatt?" Lucy demanded, her anxiety rising.

"He's having a chat with the General…as you soon will be too, I imagi…where do you think you're headed off to?" Mrs. Poe paused as Lucy limped her way to the front of the tent.

Lucy hardly turned to glance behind her as she remarked to Mrs. Poe in exasperation, "I'm going to see Wyatt."

"Now see here," the housekeeper hissed, gripping her arm, "you aren't actually thinking of marching in there looking like that…look at the state of ya."

"I don't care…"

"You will care when you give them ever reason to believe you're nothing more than a…" Lucy raised her eyebrows, daring the housekeeper to continue, but Mrs. Poe merely shook her head and amended, "I told ya, you won't be doing yerselves any favors looking the very image of a disreputable lady."

"Why not?" Lucy spat out angrily as she wrenched her arm out of Mrs. Poe's grip, " They dragged me out here like this…"

"It's still not proper…to go before the General…no!" Mrs. Poe hissed as Lucy rolled her eyes, and pushed her way out of the tent, through the throng of soldiers still gathered outside. Racing after her, Mrs. Poe hissed "You can't be barging into the General's quarters looking like this…"

"Oh yeah?" Lucy gritted out as she shoved soldiers out of her way, "Watch me."


I'll ask you once again," Colonel McKee warned as he clasped his hands behind his back and sighed heavily,"where do you really come from?"

Wyatt turned a battered eye to the sentry glowering over him with a raised fist and smirked, practically daring the soldier to hit him again. "I already gave you an answer," Wyatt spat out sardonically, "you chose not to believe me."

Glaring at him for a moment before nodding at the sentry, Col. McKee breathed out a curse as once again, Wyatt was struck hard in the face.

"Is that the best you got?" Wyatt taunted back, smirking at the soldier again who promptly struck him again.

"See here, McKee," John Fraser protested meekly, "is this really necessary? What difference does it make where they're from after all? They've saved my life more than once since taking them in, I hardly think…"

"And how many times have the French been brought to your doorstep since taking them in? And how many times have they miraculously escaped? Need I remind you," he challenged, "what happened to your unfortunate neighbors?"

"You really think we had something to do with that?" Wyatt spat out. "I told you, those French assholes came for us the night before…we just barely made it out alive."

"But you did survive…again."

"So, let me get this straight," Wyatt grunted with a scoff, "you're pissed because the French didn't kill us? Are you out of your damn mind?"

"I hardly think you're in a position to…"

"The boy's right, McKee," John Fraser said hotly, "This has gone far enough…I was there that night, I saw with my own eyes the men he killed defending his home. Hell, we both fought alongside him the very night of his wedding. Do you really think he would have gone through all of that trouble to…"

"I'm not in a position to say what he would or wouldn't do as we don't know a true thing about him!" Colonel McKee argued hotly. "Surely you can understand why its necessary to take precautions, John? After everything you've been through…"

"And I'd have been through worse if it hadn't been for this young man," John Fraser argued, turning to General Braddock. "He might be a liar…but I'd bet everything that's left of whatI have that he is no friend of the French."

General Braddock frowned thoughtfully as he considered Wyatt through the tops of his spectacles, "Perhaps not…" he mused slowly, "but his wife…"

"Lucy's got nothing to do with this." Wyatt gritted out angrily. "You leave her the hell alone."

"Or what?" General Braddock chuckled, clearly amused. "You're hardly in any position to be making threats, lad." Pushing himself up from his camp stool, he sidled his way over to Wyatt, "It is odd that she has been taken twice by the French…and both times, she has come away, practically unscathed…"

"Unscathed? They almost killed her, you asshole" Wyatt spat out before being struck hard in the face by the sentry still standing over him.

"Apologize," he barked out.

Wyatt spat out in indignation as he raised his face once again to the soldier's face and gritted out a defiant, "No."

Smirking, the sentry raised his fist to strike him again, but found himself instead stumbling forward as Lucy practically tackled him in her effort to get to Wyatt.

"Lucy? What the hell?"

The crowd of soldiers were all in uproar as Lucy, still clad in her overly large nightgown awkwardly tried to position herself in front of Wyatt to shield him from any further assaults. "Don't you dare touch him," she gasped, "He…he hasn't done anything wrong."

"Lucy," Wyatt grunted as he tried to see around her, "It's…Lucy…it's fine. I'm handling it."

"I'll explain everything" Lucy exclaimed, ignoring him, "just leave him alone."

General Braddock smiled, "I take it this is the wife?" He raised his eyebrows at John Fraser's uneasy nod before turning his head towards a heavily bandaged British soldier in the crowd behind him, "Or should I say…the trollop?" He chuckled as Lucy offered him a sharp glare, but he didn't wait to hear her objection. Instead, he made his way towards the injured sergeant and asked as he pointed to her, "Is that the woman you saw, young man?"

At his nod, Wyatt let out a curse and threw his head back in exasperation. Confused, Lucy shook her head as her eyes fell upon her accuser. His head was heavily bandaged and his uniform torn and ragged as he pointed at her with dirty and bloodied finger. "I saw her as plain as day, I tell ya…can't be no mistake."

As the crowd murmured in excitement, Lucy looked to Wyatt…but his eyes remained fixed on the soldier still pointing…and now smirking at her. She was positive, absolutely positive she had never seen him before in her life, but that didn't stop her from asking in confusion, "Saw me, what exactly?"

Instead of answering her question, however, Colonel McKee, looking triumphant, turned his attention to two men Lucy did immediately recognize, "And is it your testimony," he asked her fellow captives, "that this is the same woman who was with you in the French camp?"

As they both nodded their heads in agreement, Lucy, frustrated now, made another attempt to ask what was going on, but was instead roughly seized by a pair of guards and roughly pushed down onto a stool, "What does that…ow…what does that have to do with anything?"

"That is the question we'd very much like to know," Colonel McKee replied cooly, before pressing the two men, "And it is your testimony here today that she was well-acquainted with the French officer?

As they both nodded in agreement, Lucy wrenched herself free of the sentries holding her down on the stool, "Well-acquainted? What do you mean, well-acquainted ? With whom?" It took a moment, only a moment for her to begin to piece things together before she gasped in realization, "You mean Marcel?" she asked shooting an accusatory glare towards her two fellow prisoners, "How dare…he attacked me!"

Her words, however, fell on deaf ears. The use of his first name only seemed to solidify the idea in the minds of the British officers before them, that she was, in fact, some kind of trollop. A chorus of whistles and jeers erupted and every eye in the tent was now turned to her…every eye, except for Wyatt's. He was looking absolutely murderous, staring at Colonel McKee as if he would have loved nothing more than to beat the living shit out of him.

"Marcel, is it? So you admit," he demanded, "you are well acquainted with the French officer?"

"Wyatt?" Lucy asked in a small voice, turning to him warily, "What is going on?"

"Dammit Lucy, I told you, I was handling it," he gritted out, straining against the ropes that were binding him to his chair.

"Answer the question, my dear," General Braddock pressed, "are you going to testify against two men of God and say you were not acquainted with this gentleman?"

"No!" Lucy exclaimed before shaking her head in a fluster and amending, "I…I mean, yes…yes, I am. I don't know him."

A chorus of doubtful sneers sounded as General Braddock chuckled heartily, "You just happen to know and use his Christian name."

Lucy flushed, realizing her mistake, but replied defiantly, "I didn't know him….I mean, I didn't want to know him. He…he…will you get your hands off me?" she spat out at the soldiers gripping her arms, "He was there, the first time…when the French attacked us at our camp and nearly killed Wyatt. He was one of the soldiers who kidnapped me…so yes, I knew him…but not formally. We were never exactly introduced."

"Not a problem for the likes of you, is it?" the sergeant interjected to a chorus of whoops and whistles.

Huffing in indignation, Lucy gritted out, "Look, I don't want to know what you are implying, but I wanted nothing to do with Mar…with that man. He attacked me, alright? And he nearly killed Wyatt. Why on Earth…?"

"Tell us, my dear," General Braddock continued, "why were you taken by the French? Hmm? Why did they not just kill you the other day on the spot as they did your neighbors?"

"Who knows why the hell they do what they do…they're assholes!" Wyatt spat out angrily.

"I was addressing the young lady," Braddock replied cooly, before turning to Lucy once more. "There must have been some reason, he suggested slowly, "that they kept you alive."

Wyatt was about to tell General Braddock to go straight to hell when Lucy, to his utmost surprise and confusion, nodded, "Yes, I do know," she replied defiantly. Seeing Wyatt's obvious confusion, she continued, speaking more to him than to General Braddock, "They think…Wyatt," she breathed out anxiously as he looked back at her incredulously, "that's what I was trying to tell you that morning…they…they think I…. I mean , we killed Nicholas."

A general murmur arose among the crowd as Wyatt stared back at Lucy, looking utterly betrayed (and confused) as Colonel McKee clapped his hands in vindication, "So she admits it! She was involved in the aide's murder."

"Wait…what?" Lucy exclaimed, looking at Wyatt and shaking her head, "I didn't…I…I didn't…we didn't kill Nicholas!"

"Nicholas?" Wyatt exclaimed incredulously, "Who the hell is Nicholas?"

" Nicholas …" Lucy breathed out in exasperation, nodding at him to recall something that for him was a total mystery. As he continued to stare at her in complete bewilderment she heaved out a heavy sigh and gritted, "you know…my boyfriend ?"

Never had Wyatt ever regretted ribbing Lucy over the chivalrous French jackass as he did in that moment. Her unwitting admission aside, the gasp and exclamations that emanated from Colonel McKee and his throng of admirers had him kicking himself for being so damn stupid. Yet, in all the time they had been living at John Fraser's farm, he had forgotten all about the French soldier who had very nearly swept her off her damn feet and now, now that lapse in memory was probably going to get them both killed.

As if on cue, Colonel McKee practically skipped with excitement as he exclaimed, "So it is true? He was your fiance?"

"No, he wa…wait… what ? Lucy asked, totally confused now as Wyatt threw back his head in exasperation. "Fiance? Nicholas?" She shook her head, "Why…no…why would you think he…"

"You just admitted you were romantically involved with him." General Braddock countered.

"I…l…" Lucy stammered, astonished, "I didn't admit to…will someone please tell me what is going on here?"

Ignoring her, Colonel McKee began writing on a sheet of paper before him, "I think we've heard all that we needed to hear. Matthew," he said calling to his aide, "If you would be so kind…we'll need these dispatches translated and taken to the French right away so that we can arrange a trade," turning to the two men from the French camp, he pressed, "you did say they were holding an Englishwoman captive…"

Before Lucy could even respond, she found herself being fitted with shackles as Wyatt fought against the soldiers holding him back. "You get your damn hands off of her," he gritted out angrily. With one powerful lunge, Wyatt - his hands now free - rammed into the soldiers surrounding Lucy as she helplessly cried out for him to "stop".

"Just a moment," John Fraser's voice called from the back of the tent. The crowd murmured and parted as he pressed his way through until he was standing in between Wyatt and Lucy's seated figures, "I hardly think that's justifiable just now….I mean, after all, you didn't even give the lady a chance to explain herself…"

"John," Colonel McKee sighed in exasperation, "you know it pains me to say it…but we've established beyond a reasonable doubt that she cannot be trusted. You heard the testimony…you heard two men of God say that she was already well-acquainted with that French officer when she arrived at the camp."

"I did…"

"And you also know, just as I do, that she was once engaged to a man, before she attempted an elopement with…"

"I'm well aware of that, yes…"

"And we just heard her say that the man in question, the very man she is accused of murdering was…"

"He was not my boyfriend." Lucy interrupted angrily.

"My dear…you just said…you admitted that he was your companion…"

" Wyatt called him that." Lucy finished for Colonel McKee, "He was just saying it as a tease …I didn't mean he was actually…I only said that because…" she cast a frustrated look towards Wyatt and sighed, "look, when we first arrived here and the French kidnapped us…I…I thought Wyatt was dead."

"So you felt at liberty to take up with this Nicholas…"

"No!" No," Lucy supplied with a huff. "He…he was…look, when they took me, he…he looked after me…he was kind …kinder to me than anyone else in that place ."

"So he was one of the ones who kidnapped you?" General Braddock asked with a frown.

"Yes, but…he…he wasn't like that. He…he was just following orders," she insisted. "He…he protected me. When Mar…when that French officer made advances towards me he…he kept him away from me. That's why Wyatt teased me," she offered with a sniff, "because he thought he was just doing that because…"

"Because you showed your appreciation towards him?" Colonel McKee offered.

"What? No…not…I mean, I was…"

"But you were grateful for his attentions?" General Braddock offered with a smile, prompting Wyatt to narrow his eyes and shoot Lucy a warning glance…a glance she didn't notice.

"Yes, of course." she shrugged.

At her answer, a chorus of murmurs and laughter broke out as Colonel McKee sighed heavily, "It's always the same, you know?" He said turning to General Braddock, "We do our best to separate them in the camp, drill it into the men that these women…these camp followers will disrupt them in their duties, carry with them all sorts of disease, but do they listen? No. Every army, be it British, French, Spanish…has their weaknesses."

Lucy gaped at him indignantly as General Braddock chuckled, "There's a need for them, McKee…who would do the washing? The men?" As raucous laughter erupted, he continued, sidling his way towards Lucy, "But I agree, they can be distracting for the undisciplined rabble..." Turning to Lucy, he nodded with a lecherous smile, "...and you must have been awfully distracting, my dear." Wyatt glared at him as he made his way to Lucy and began stroking her face with the back of his fingers, acknowledging the two priests with a bow. "Why, not just this aide - Nicholas…but to have been involved with that French officer as well…this uh… Marcel, was it?"

Lucy's eyes darted to the two men and immediately flushed, the memory of all that she had endured at the wandering hands of Major Marcel Toussaint making every inch of her skin crawl as General Braddock continued to gaze at her like a lecherous weasel.

"I was not involved with him…"

"...it has been verified by three witnesses…two who are men of God mind…that you were." Braddock pressed with a nod towards the two prisoners from the French camp, "In fact, you were seen embracing him on more than one occasion…i ask you again…do you do deny it?"

"I wouldn't call it embracing, sir," the British sergeant piped up as the crowd of soldiers laughed and jeered around him, "he was giving her a green gown something fierce."

Mortified beyond all belief, Lucy closed her eyes, feeling the weight of Wyatt's eyes on her as she attempted to control the fury boiling in her chest. Every indignation she had suffered at the hands of Major Marcel Toussaint, every unwanted touch, kiss, every injustice she had faced as a woman in this damn century was nothing compared to the humiliation of having those same injustices met with mocking laughter. Angry tears sprang forth, careening down her face in a furious tirade, leaving white hot streaks in their wake.

Roars of laughter continued as jeers and comments sounded throughout the air until the all-too familiar sound of Wyatt's angry voice broke through the din with a "You son of a bitch" and then it was chaos…stools overturned, arms flailing, and Wyatt in the midst of it all, laying punch after punch on the heavily bandaged Sergeant.

"Enough!" roared Braddock as his sentries dragged a cursing Wyatt away from the bruised and bleeding British soldier and threw him back onto his stool. "Another outburst like that from you, young man and you'll be horse-whipped." Wyatt offered him a hard stare, almost daring him to do it, before Braddock turned his attention back to Lucy. "I ask you again, were these men your lovers?"

Lucy could feel Wyatt looking at her, could feel his eyes searching for hers as she stared back at General Braddock defiantly. Her chest heaving with anger, her head pounded furiously as she spoke in a voice dripping with disdain, "No."

A chorus of disbelieving jeers erupted and Lucy felt John Fraser's comforting hand on her shoulder as Braddock settled the men with a wave of his hand, "I'm interested to hear what she has to say," Braddock countered, looking at Lucy with rapt attention, "You deny that you were on intimate terms with the men in question…then tell us why they believe you are to blame for this young man's demise."

Lucy swallowed hard as she cast a glance towards Wyatt and began, "It was when Wyatt had come to break me out of Ft. Duquesne. He was…he was leading me away, getting me out of there when we were stopped by Nicholas." he cast another glance towards Wyatt and explained, "He would have killed us…"

"So you killed him instead, is that it?" Colonel McKee challenged.

"No!" Lucy cried adamantly to a chorus of disbelieving scoffs from the crowd, "no…no..I…I had convinced him to let us go…"

"Convinced him?" Braddock interrupted, casting a glance towards Wyatt, "and just how did you do that, my dear?"

Lucy, fully catching General Braddock's insinuation this time, huffed out an indignant breath, "I just talked to him…asked him to let us go."

Nonsense!" Colonel McKee cried out. "You really expect us to believe that a Frenchman was actually going to let you escape from Fort Duquesne? In these times?" He let out a triumphant laugh, "If anything, you have just proven that you are a danger to us…why would the French let you escape freely without asking for something in return?

"Yes," Braddock agreed, "information, perhaps?"

Colonel McKee nodded his head as he rounded the table and stood in front of her, "You gave them that information the day of your wedding, didn't you? Informed them of the army's arrival?" Lucy shook her head as he continued hotly, "But it wasn't enough….no, they wanted more…and when you didn't deliver…."

"Do you even hear yourself, Alexander?" John Fraser cried out. "You have accused her of treachery, deceit, and dare I say it….debauchery. You fail to remember what happened that night…but I cannot so easily forget. This man saved my life," he said, pointing to Wyatt, "And his new bride spent her wedding night patching up countless British soldiers and easing their pain. Think on it, Thomas," he said quietly, "think of what you know of them and see…they aren't traitors."

"But we don't know them John," Colonel McKee replied, "that's just the problem."

"I'll admit, when you told me what you'd discovered about their past," John replied, prompting Lucy to turn a sharp eye to Wyatt who was wordless warning her not to interrupt, "I was hurt, truly hurt that they weren't honest about who they really were…but it hardly means they are French spies."

"Yes, but John…do you not see the danger if you are wrong? You told me yourself these two were hiding away eavesdropping on your conversation with Boone and Morgan…"

"Aye, but as I told you then, they were hiding from Mrs. Poe…understandable too since she gave dear Lucy quite the walloping for wandering downstairs in her nightgown." He cast her a small, reassuring smile and added, "As you see, she has quite the knack for finding herself without the proper attire."

"And what would induce her to do it," Col. McKee challenged, "if not to spy?"

"I was looking for Wyatt," Lucy answered in a shaky voice, her eyes fixed on Wyatt's. "I…he had stolen the letters we had found on the French soldiers who had attacked us that night and he…he gave them to me to read," she explained, blushing at the memory of him sitting there beside her in front of the fireplace. "I knew after reading them that morning that they were coming for us…coming to avenge Nicholas' death…but I never got a chance to tell him…"

"Because she was taken." Wyatt spat out angrily, drawing his eyes away from Lucy's to stare daggers at Colonel McKee.

"And just how did this Nicholas die?" Colonel Gage asked quietly.

"He was letting us go…moving aside…and then…I don't know what happened," Lucy exclaimed, "He just…he just crumpled to the ground in front of us….killed," she nodded, "killed by a bullet that was probably meant for us." She cast her eyes down to her hands and nodded. "He didn't deserve that….he…he seemed like he was a good man."

"I'd be careful about praising the French too highly, my dear," John Fraser muttered kindly before shooting Colonel McKee a warning glare, "we wouldn't want people to get the wrong ideas now would we?"

"Indeed." General Braddock mused, "Did you not say he was among those who had "kidnapped" you? Wasn't he responsible for nearly killing your husband?" At this Wyatt absolutely shifted and with one look towards him, Lucy could see his thoughts were very much in the same vein.

With one huff of exasperation Lucy replied, "Yes, he did…but he…"

"It appears to me once you found yourself in a vulnerable situation, you used your feminine wiles to secure your safety with this Nicholas, is that right?"

"N.."

"And when you discovered your," General Braddock cast a fleeting glance at Wyatt, " intended was still alive, you…"

"That is not what happened," Lucy gritted out. "Look, you're right…I was vulnerable after being taken. Mar…Major Toussaint made sure of that. Nicholas kept him away from me and I was grateful for that, okay? Maybe, if he was still alive, I wouldn't have been taken again…or at least wouldn't have had to deal with…" Lucy bit her lip and sighed, "I didn't mean for any of this to happen," she sniffed. "I tried so hard to get away…"

"Did he hurt you?" Wyatt asked quietly…so quietly, in fact, that Lucy almost didn't hear him. Looking up, she saw him looking at her with the same intense scrutiny he had shown in the cabin. "That French asshole," he pressed further, "did he hurt you?"

Though she was in no mood to discuss all that she had suffered at the hands of the French, least of all in front of the crowd of unsympathetic soldiers, she knew Wyatt - a man so prone to feelings of guilt, needed assurance. Keeping her eyes fixed on him she shook her head, "He tried," she admitted as stray tears fell from her eyes.

"Are you satisfied, Thomas?" John Fraser spat out, "Now that you've accused my friends and neighbors of all kinds of treachery…humiliated them before a whole host of soldiers…are you finally satisfied?"

"No," Colonel McKee answered in curt reply, "because they lied to us, John…and we still don't know who they really are. Tell us," he shouted, turning to Wyatt, "tell us now, or so help me I'll string you and your wife up as traitors," Col. McKee shouted, "Who are you? Where are you really from?"

Wyatt strained against the arms of soldiers holding him in place, absolutely prepared to tell Alexander McKee to go straight to hell with his accusations when the sound of Lucy's voice, hushed and quavering, sounded beside him.

"Saxony...he's from Saxony!"

Still clasped in shackles and held upright by two soldiers, she stared back at Alexander McKee defiantly and nodded, "He's Saxon."

"What the hell are you doing?" Wyatt muttered to her, but she didn't even glance in his direction. Instead, he could see the wheels turning in her head as she shifted uncomfortably and nodded, as if trying to assure herself that this lie was the best course.

Whatever aim she was going for seemed to work as a hush fell over the crowd and both General Braddock and Colonel McKee looked back at him, stunned. Colonel Gage, who had been thoughtfully silent throughout the proceedings, whispered in astonishment, "Ist das wahr?"

Wyatt stared back at him and then turned a questioning glance to Lucy, who he knew damn well didn't speak a word of German. Seeing him, she nodded, "It's alright, tell them…tell them the truth."

What Lucy didn't know was that he had tried to tell them the truth…but his quip about them being time travelers hadn't exactly done him any favors…in fact, it got him a damn black eye. No, he hadn't expected them to believe it, he had said it more or less to piss them off…but now? Now he had no idea what the hell Lucy was getting at, but as she continued to nod at him meaningfully, he figured the best course was to just trust she knew what the hell she was doing. Clearing his throat he replied, "Ja, est ist wahr." He cast another look at Lucy who was exhaling a shaky breath before adding for extra measure, "Lasst du uns jetzt gehen?"

"Well," Colonel McKee breathed out, "they've admitted it…they are traitors. They're French allies!"

"Hold on there, McKee," Daniel Boone interjected, "I think they have earned a right to explain themselves, don't you?"

Wyatt looked once again to Lucy, hoping to hell she hadn't made some historical miscalculation that would have them both strung up before nightfall. Far from looking concerned, however, she nodded her thanks to Daniel Boone, cast a fleeting glance in his direction and then offered up the biggest bullshit story he had ever heard in his life…

He had been a soldier in a war ten years ago in Austria…some war of Succession or some such nonsense…a war, it seemed, that General Braddock knew well and apparently served in. When Saxony switched sides halfway through the war," Lucy had explained, he, Wyatt had found himself fighting alongside the British in the Dutch Republic where he met…"me," she replied in a voice that was anything but steady.

"The trouble was," she sniffed, wiping away a fake tear, "I was engaged…it had been arranged before I was born…and Wyatt? He had just lost his wife in the war. Killed, " she added, "by a French attack on their town."

Wyatt's mouth dropped open. He had to hand it to Lucy Preston…she might not have been the best liar in the world, but damn it all if she knew how to do it when it mattered.. John Fraser placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, squeezing it in silent support and Colonel McKee, for all of his accusations and threats, looked nothing short of apologetic for daring to accuse Wyatt, who had lost his "first wife to the French" of being on their side.

After the war," Lucy continued "he didn't go back to Saxony. There was nothing left for him there and…and well, I didn't…I didn't want him to go." She turned to look at him and smiled, "I trusted him…needed him…"

"But your father didn't approve, did he?" John Fraser asked.

Lucy shook her head. "No. It didn't matter that we were allies for the latter part of the war…there was still a lot of unrest…a lot of distrust," she added meaningfully, looking at Colonel McKee. "He tried to earn my father's approval, but…he…he wanted me to marry the doctor…"

"She didn't even know his name," Wyatt supplied with a smirk.

"And so," Lucy continued, glancing at Wyatt, "after a few years of working hard, he came to me one night and…and told me he had earned enough money to leave Europe. We were tired of the fighting, of the politics…of the war…we just wanted to get married," she nodded, dabbing at her eyes again, which Wyatt could see were totally dry. "We found someone in New York who promised to take us to a place where we could start over…where no one could find us," she chuckled, "and he left us stranded here…alone. Except we weren't alone," she nodded, dabbing her eyes again. "The French found us a few days after we found ourselves stranded out here…and well…here we are."

"You realize that Saxony is allying themselves at this very moment with France in the coming war?" General Braddock pressed. "That the events that have unfolded here have set off a powder keg in Europe?"

Wyatt cast another wary glance towards Lucy, but once again, she surprised him. Not only was she unfazed by his question, she readily replied with a confident nod of her head, "Why do you think we didn't want to tell you who we really were?" She shrugged, "It just seemed safer, given the circumstances, to tell you we were from New York…in a way, it wasn't a lie…not really. It is where we started from…"

Wyatt had to dip his head down and bite back the temptation to laugh as John Fraser all but demanded Colonel McKee apologize for his "despicable treatment of his friends", but Colonel McKee was not inclined to give up his inquisition so easily. "You still lied," he maintained, "and given your true identities, it doesn't put my mind at ease, knowing that the land of your birth," he said motioning to Wyatt, "is currently marching in league with the French. If you had someone who could vouch for you," he added, "someone who knew you before…someone who would verify this story you have told us."

"And just where do you think we are going to find someone to do that?" Wyatt spat out. "No one knows where the hell we even are! You heard her, we were stranded out here."

"I think," Colonel Gage replied quietly, "that given the circumstances, we should give them the benefit of the doubt. They haven't done anything wrong except lie about their origins…and given what she just told us, that is understandable - politics being what they are."

"I'm still not convinced," General Braddock began, still leering at Lucy, "that this one is as innocent as she proclaims." He smirked at her, "There are three witnesses claiming they saw you on intimate terms with the French…three British witnesses…and I'm supposed to take your word for it? After you've already admitted you have lied? Perhaps old allegiances die hard for you, hmmm… mademoiselle ?"

"I mean no disrespect, General," John Fraser maintained, "but you forget that she has lived under my roof and within walking distance of my home these past few months. I know her…and her husband…and they have no love for the French. You don't fight like they did against them and owe them anything but contempt."

"I second John's assessment." Daniel Boone declared, folding his arms across his chest. "I may not have known them as long and as well as John here, but I fought alongside Wyatt…saw his distress when they took off with his wife. He is no French ally."

"He may not be…but his French speaking wife could be," Colonel McKee declared, looking at Lucy with a sneer.. "She wouldn't be the first woman to use her wiles to…"

"Indeed, she would not," General Braddock agreed. " A fool in love is a fool indeed…so tell me young man," he offered, nodding to Wyatt as he stroked Lucy's chin again, "Why should we believe her? Can you say with certainty that she wasn't unfaithful?"

"I trust her a hell of a lot more than I do you," he gritted out, staring daggers at him.

Far from being offended, Braddock barked out a laugh, "Yes, I imagine you do…and why not? Our sides being at odds as they were. Tell me," Braddock pressed, "what was it that drew you to her? Hmm? After just having lost your wife, were you seeking out comfort..."

"No." Wyatt spat back, dropping his gaze, "no...it wasn't anything like that. Lucy...just..." he frowned for a moment, before he lifted his head and glanced at her with a knowing smirk, "she saved my life."

Lucy's eyes darted to his in surprise to find a warmth there that made her flush. At first, she thought he was kidding, but as his smirk, which had been wistful, turned serious, she realized that there was more meaning behind his words than just some fabricated story of their "chance" meeting. Her thoughts strayed to every moment they had shared together, every time they butted heads, every moment she wanted to strangle him for being so infuriating...until his gaze changed, willing her to remember - taking her back to a similarly desperate situation in the middle of the Texas frontier. He had wanted to die...to be left behind...he had nothing else to live for - he said as much, hadn't he? And yet... despite all of that, he took her hand and left with her. He had never thanked her for pulling him back from the brink...and well, she wasn't looking for thanks. Yet now, as he continued to look at her, Lucy sensed that he was desperate to communicate to her what he never had in those fleeting moments in the Alamo.

She mattered.

Real tears now sprang to her eyes and she was forced to look away, nodding as she did so, but unable to do much more than that.

Seemingly touched by her outpouring of emotion, General Braddock smiled, "I'm really enjoying this little chat we're having…we haven't precisely begun on the right footing, have we?" Leaving his place beside Lucy, Braddock clasped his hands behind his back and strode towards Wyatt, his head thrown back in thoughtful contemplation. "I wish I could trust her as you do," he replied, "but your word, I'm afraid, cannot be leveraged over one of my own me…"

"And my word means nothing?" John Fraser interrupted

"Besides," Braddock continued, ignoring him, "the French have an Englishwoman in their possession and are eager for a trade…"

"You sonofabit.." Wyatt grunted, struggling against the soldiers holding him, "You wouldn't…"

"What's one woman to me…more or less?" Braddock replied with a scoff. "I have a duty to my countrymen…and you, by your own admittance, are not my countrymen." He smiled and nodded as he returned to his small desk and began writing, "Yes, I believe the best course of action, in this case, is to offer up a trade…and depending on how much she's worth to them," he said pointing to Lucy, "we may be able to secure some concessions as far as land holdings…"

The hell you will!" Wyatt growled, lunging for him before being apprehended by four redcoats. "I'll kil…"

"What if you arranged the trade here?" Lucy piped up, suddenly causing Wyatt to turn and stare at her incredulously.

"What the hell are you doing?" he spat out.

Offering him a meaningful look, she nodded, "If you trade me for this Englishwoman…if that's what you plan to do…" she offered as Braddock nodded at her, "then I only ask that you do it here…at this camp."

"What kind of game are you playing?" Colonel McKee accused, rounding on her. "You want them to come here? This is all part of some grand scheme?"

"No scheme." Lucy replied. "But that Englishwoman," she added with a meaningful look towards Wyatt, "she can…"

"Lucy," he warned, understanding what she was aiming at, "don't…"

"I have to, Wyatt…she needs our help."

He looked at her helplessly as the inevitable question fell from Braddock's lips, "Who?"

Casting an uneasy glance towards John Fraser and Wyatt, Lucy nodded, "The Englishwoman…the one they offered to you as a trade?" Braddock nodded at her, his eyes narrowed in confusion as she continued, "She'll vouch for me…she'll tell you exactly what went on in that camp."

"And just what makes you think we would take her at her word?" Colonel McKee scoffed.

"Because," Lucy replied, without a moment's pause, "It's Jane Fraser."

Notes:

Greetings!

I hope you all have been well and that life has treated you all kindly. It's been a bit crazy on my end, but I assure you I've been working on this fic as I can.
Now for the chapter - General Braddock had a reputation for "loving wine as much as he loved the ladies" or something to that effect, in the words of an Alexandria tavern keeper. While apparently a bit of a rounder himself, he was opposed to too much fraternization with the fairer sex among his men. Why? Venereal disease, of course - which they blamed solely on the women (they did, it's in the field journals). Yet, they had lots of women that traveled with them - to do the washing, the sewing, the cooking - so I tried to reflect that attitude in this chapter.
Lucy, with her French and her penchant for being taken by said French...and always being improperly dressed would have, among these men, aroused suspicion...and I wrote it that way to set the stage for the next chapter (which is already coming along nicely, in case you're wondering) and ultimately the final moments they'll find themselves in in 1754 where they will find no solace with ANY one and thus, be forced to take that practically suicidal leap of faith in the Lifeboat back to the present. A lot of things happening in the next chapter - so stay tuned.
As for Lucy's bullish*t story, well as I prepared this fic, I wanted to bring in the wider elements of the F&I war - namely that this was a GLOBAL war...in fact, you could say it was the First World War in that it was the first war fought on both hemispheres. The events of 1754 did launch the Seven Year's War in Europe...and me, remembering that Wyatt spoke German, figured I could have a little fun with that. The War of Austrian Succession had been fought in Europe about ten years prior to the F&I war...and it engulfed much of Europe. Germany didn't exist at the time as we know it, but many German principalities did exist...and some of them fought with the British...and others fought with the French. Saxony fought alongside both - and so because of where the theaters of war were among others the Dutch Republic (present day Belgium, among other places) I thought that would be a great place for Wyatt and Lucy to have happened upon each other and account for her ability to speak French. Lucy dropping that bombshell about Jane Fraser is going to affect John Fraser and Colonel McKee in different ways...but ultimately it's going to be a real exercise in trust for Wyatt who has every reason to believe that she dreamed her up in her hallucinogenic state.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter - I apologize for taking so long to get it out to you - life has just been life - full responsibilities and "must dos" that shift my focus to the real world instead of that of fiction. Take care!