A/N: Thank you to those still reading and taking the time to review. You make me smile. :)

This one follows the events of the episode Postmaster General Franklin. A brief recap of the episode: no longer able to trust the British mailing system, James and Sarah are entrusted with delivering important dispatches to New York by Ben Franklin himself. En route, they spot some Tories blocking the road so James hides the mail, lies to the officer about why they're traveling to New York, and they circle back later that evening to retrieve it. They are nearly caught by the same Tories and are subsequently rescued by the Jersey Committee of Correspondents. Sarah mentions several times in the episode how irritated she is that James lied.

This takes place immediately following the second to last scene. I suggest at least watching that so that this opening makes sense.


June, 1775

Oh you've done it now, haven't you.

Sarah's face had fallen, a stark contrast to the joy that had filled her features but seconds before. In his head, the retort to her exuberant cry of I'm so happy, I could kiss you! had seemed funny - fitting even, for their usual rapport. But her reaction spoke volumes as to how the message had landed and he watched in dismay as she turned from him, face tightening, and asked the barkeep how much they owed him. The seconds passed in terse silence as she placed the coins on the counter, then turned and walked speedily out of the room.

But not before he caught the shine of tears in her eyes.

Damn it. He stood there awkwardly for a moment, uncertain if he should go after her. She was likely on the way back to her boarding house, and once she was inside, it would be far too improper for him to follow her in. Sighing through his teeth, he rushed from the tavern and outside into the darkening evening. It was still light enough to spot her departing form heading down the street, so he took off after her, cursing to himself all the while. "Sarah!" he called out. "Wait up!" She did not stop or break her pace and he rolled his eyes as he ran up to her. She kept her gaze forward, unresponsive, one hand lifting her skirts to step over the mud puddles that spotted the street. "Sarah, please," he huffed. "Hold on just a moment. I'd like to talk to you."

"I thought you had suffered enough at the hands of the British?" Her tone was clipped, irritated. The tears were gone from her eyes but she refused to look at him as he strode alongside her.

"I meant it as a joke." The excuse sounded like just that to his ears and he grimaced, nervously running a hand down his face. "I mean, I thought it would be funny. I see now that it was not. My apologies, Sarah."

"Apology accepted, Mr. Hiller. Goodnight." He stopped in his tracks, incredulous, watching as she continued walking into the darkening evening. God, but she was so stubborn. The notion that he had hurt her in some way did not escape him though, so he sighed heavily and continued his determined march in her stead.

"Sarah..." He wanted to reach out and take her by the arm but thought better of it, and instead chose to rush ahead and face her. She made it a point to not meet his gaze and instead looked beyond him as she continued walking, so he began walking backwards. "Sarah, would you stop for a moment? Please?"

"I'm afraid I'm quite worn out and wish to retire," she said tightly. He fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"You can wait a few moments, surely."

"I'm uncertain what more you want, as I have already accepted your apology."

"Then why are you being so difficult?" He cast a quick look behind him to ensure he wasn't about to bump into anyone.

"I am being difficult?" she asked dryly as he turned to look at her once more. "You are the one following me and blocking my path after being so rude in the tavern just now."

"Aha!" He pointed a finger at her. "So you do not accept my apology. You are angry with me."

"Would you just leave me alone, please?" A beat passed in terse silence as they stared at each other; she was digging her heels in, and hard.

"You are impossible, do you know that?' he spit. "I'm sorry, Sarah. You should know by now that I speak out of turn without realizing it. If you do not wish to speak with me, then I will gladly - augh!" The back of his heel hit some unknown obstacle and he stumbled backward, landing firmly on his rear with a dull thud. It didn't hurt that much, but the embarrassment of it sunk deep into his chest and belly as he scrambled back up to his feet. Cheeks aflame, he angrily kicked the cursed stone that he had tripped over and turned to meet Sarah's gaze, only to find her expression blank and impassive.

It infuriated him for some reason.

"Are you alright?" she asked quietly.

"You know what? Forget it." He swept his arms out in front of him as annoyance took hold, muttering a curse under his breath so she wouldn't hear. "I will not beg for your forgiveness. If you want to stay angry at me, so be it. I don't care." She scoffed, her features finally offering a reaction - a negative one, but a reaction nonetheless. He turned to leave but her irate tone halted him in his tracks.

"You would honestly have the audacity to be angry at me after the boorish behavior you just displayed?" Energized by the annoyance in her tone, he whirled back on her with fervor.

"I apologized, if you don't recall," he snapped, pointing a finger at her. "Your refusal to acknowledge it is more indicative of boorish behavior than what I did." She barked out a laugh, but the sound of it was bitter, almost...mocking.

"And these are the words of a gentleman?" He balked at her as she moved towards him, pointing a finger right back at him. "You are impossible, James. If you truly cannot see the depth of your insult, then there is no point in continuing this conversation."

"What are you talking about?" He swallowed down his temper as best he could, staring at her wide-eyed. "You are honestly this upset over a stupid joke?" She eyed him strangely.

"You really think that's all that is upsetting me?"

"I have no idea because you won't tell me!"

"Are you so blinded by your own arrogance and pride that you truly cannot see why I might be angry with you?"

"And are you so blinded by your own damn superiority that you would not offer me an explanation so that I could even attempt to make amends -"

"Superiority?" Her eyes glittered with offense. "That is what you think of me?"

"Well that is certainly how you are acting," he bit out, making a face at her. "I can only assume you think me too stupid to offer an explanation to by virtue of the fact that I cannot read your mind."

"And to think until this moment I considered you a friend." She shook her head, her gaze intense. "You are such a child."

"Right, while you are a kindly saint who has never done anything wrong in her entire life." He could not stop the bite of sarcasm in his tone as his annoyance swelled into anger. "I am not your servant, Sarah, nor am I a stupid child that you have been forced to educate. You considering me a friend is laughable, if not an outright lie."

"How dare you," she began but he couldn't seem to stop himself as the last two years of her jabs, her snobbery, compounded, magnified, and exploded.

"I know you think you are better than me," he snapped. "It is evident in the way you correct me, challenge me, roll your eyes and scoff as if the mere act of listening to me is a chore. It is exactly why I did not want you to come with me on this mission, but in typical English fashion, you stomped your feet and got your way. Well no more."

"This is high talk, coming from a man who has consistently undermined me on the basis of my sex." She maintained her composure, but her tone was heavy, offended. "Do not attempt to take the high road with me, James. You are nothing but a hypocrite."

"No. No, I'm not a hypocrite. You know what I am?" He leaned in closer, trying and failing to halt the rise of his voice. "I am a fighter. I have had to fight to prove that I was worth Dr. Franklin's faith in taking me on as his apprentice. I have had to beg, and scrape, and claw my way out of my circumstance while you treat this profession as a pastime until your next tea party. So I am done. Done trying to get along with you, or teach you, or take the time to explain that we have just begun a war with your home country and that we might have to tell a lie or two to ensure the legal delivery of the mail because the bloody redcoats won't."

"Now who's acting superior?" She met his sarcasm and doubled it as she sneered, stepping closer. "You would level these charges against me, and presume to know what sort of life I have lived while exalting yourself upon the throne of sacrifice. If you had ever bothered to get to know me outside of your predetermined bias surrounding my heritage, it may have been different." He made to speak but she held up a hand and shushed him. "So I stand by what I said. You are presumptuous, and rude, and a hypocrite if I ever saw one."

"And you are a spoiled brat." Silence fell between them as they stared each other down. He refused to apologize again to her. Not after all of this over one stupid comment.

"Well." She stiffened and offered a polite, but incredibly fake smile. "It is a comfort to know what you truly think of me, James." Guilt beckoned but he ignored it.

"Why are you doing this?" he exploded. "We have just done a remarkable thing, and you are acting like - like -"

"Like what James?" There was a challenge in her voice now, in her eyes, as she crossed her arms over her chest, leaning in towards him. "Go on. Level another insult. I'm certain it will please you to get it out."

"I do not want to insult you!" he sputtered. "I just want to know why you are so angry with me!"

"And I do not wish to speak of this anymore," she bit out and he couldn't help but laugh as realization dawned.

"Don't tell me this is about my lying again." Her eyes darkened. "I swear Sarah if it is, I -" He cut himself off before he insulted her again. Swallowed. Grit his teeth. Inhaled slowly, trying to calm himself. "I cannot keep going around like this with you. Let it go. I did what I did, we got the mail through, and our mission was a success."

"By the grace of God, yes." She shook her head quickly, visibly upset, and he resented how guilty it made him feel when she was the one who had started this, dammit, dammit, dammit. "But no. This is not about your lies."

"Then what?" He threw his hands up in despair, anxiously searching her face. "What is it?"

"James..."

"Tell me so that I can fix it, Sarah! For God's sake -"

"Let me pass. Nothing good will come of this -"

"No! Not until you tell me why. Why Sarah, why, what did I -"

"Because you could have died, James." Her voice rang out through the street, laden with emotion, and the sight of angry tears pooling in her eyes stilled his tongue. She threw her hands up in exasperation. "Dr. Franklin warned you to be careful. The importance of this task, not to mention the inherent danger of it was monumental, and you treated it like a game."

"I..." Confusion clouded his mind as quickly as his anger had. "What are you -"

"Those men would have killed you." Her voice shook as she spoke. "I likely would have been sent to prison, but they -" She gestured wildly around her, "were out for blood."

"I know that," he said quietly, but she pressed on, stepping closer towards him.

"And if it weren't for the Divine interference of Providence in supplying the aid of the Jersey Correspondents, you would be hanging from a tree right now." The light from the gas lamp above cast eerie shadows across her face, and the grim unhappiness lining every inch of her features halted the words on his tongue. "We were ultimately successful, yes. But the risk of what we just undertook held within it the peril of life or death. And the recklessness of your choices, not to mention the gleeful means in which you so blithely disregarded caution and discretion..." Her lip trembled as she spoke. "It was nothing but a gamble with your own life. And you do not even seem to care."

"I only wanted..." He cleared his throat, head spinning. Where was all of this coming from? "There was no other way, Sarah. We never would have made it past those Tories with the mailbag."

"I know that. And I trusted you." Her voice broke as she continued. "By virtue of our friendship, I ignored the whispers of my own better judgements and followed your hair-brained scheme of a plan, crawling on hands and knees with you in the dark of night. Then ran for my life as those bandits gave chase, knowing full well that if they caught us, we were doomed. And after all of that I had thought to myself: surely James now feels the burden of this war as I do. Surely he sees the depth of what we now find ourselves in after such a harrowing experience. And just before you said what you did, I had thought that maybe, you now saw me as an equal, if not your friend. But clearly I was wrong." She gestured towards herself, shaking her head. "Stupid of me, really."

"Sarah..." Guilt swept over him in waves. "I was...listen -"

"And do you know what the worst part is?" She laughed sadly, pressing a hand to her forehead. "I was so terrified that something was going to happen to you. It was all I could think about as we made our way back to the mail - what would happen to you if we were caught. If any ill fate had befallen you, it would have ruined me, James." Her face fell again as she offered a hapless shrug. "But even now, to you it remains little more than a game. Then again...I suppose this is high talk for such a spoiled brat." Fixing him with one final devastating look, she moved past him and walked off.

"Sarah.." he called out softly but she only shook her head and kept going. It felt imprudent, practically immoral now to go after her. "Sarah, I'm sorry."

But she did not react this time. She kept moving until the darkness swallowed her up, leaving him alone in the street.


The following morning dawned with a heaviness in the air as the sky swelled with rain clouds. James made his way across the street, inhaling deeply; even at this early hour, the city was beginning to stir as merchants set up shop, and early patrons circled the block to prepare for the business day ahead. He liked New York, he had decided; something about the city excited him, invigorated him, even more than Philadelphia.

As it was now though, his heart felt burdened with remorse as he headed towards the boarding house where Sarah was staying. He had barely slept the night before, turning her words over and over in his mind. It seemed that no matter what he did, he was always wrong when it came to her. But he wanted to be gentlemanly; more than that, he wanted to be the sort of man she could respect. But her manner always seemed to awaken something in him, stirring up that deeply-buried resentment towards himself that he would never be good enough. The truth of it was...she came from means and he did not. Their politics aside, he was starting to wonder if that aspect alone would prevent them from ever truly getting along; if that invisible barrier would only continue to grow as time passed. Yet in spite of it all, he still wanted to try. He had to.

He made his way inside, taking the stairs two at a time to the second floor. The floorboards creaked obnoxiously beneath his feet as his eyes scanned the hallway; if the landlady saw him, he'd have to leave. Spotting no one, he knocked on her door quickly, nervously shifting his hat in place. They would depart back to Philadelphia today, and he was certain the journey would be horribly awkward if the attempt to reconcile was not made beforehand. For a few seconds, he wondered if she was still asleep or perhaps ignoring his knock at the door; then from the other side of it he heard movement, the disengagement of the lock, and the door swung open to reveal Sarah standing there. She stared at him for a moment, her hairbrush in one hand, the other holding onto the doorframe. Her hair was down, cascading in gentle waves over her chest and though it was not the first time he had seen her like that, it felt as if he had caught her unguarded - almost vulnerable, in a way. He took his hat off slowly and offered a soft smile. "Good morning," he said quietly. He cast a quick look down the hall, then back at her. "Can I speak with you before we head out?"

"You cannot come in here, James." Her eyes followed the same path his had just taken, glancing quickly behind him. "It would be most improper."

"Hardly anyone is about at this early hour." He tapped his hat against his thigh absentmindedly. "And besides, it will only take a minute."

"James..." Her voice was flat. Though he knew he did not deserve it, he muttered out a,

"Please?" She sighed through her nose, then wordlessly stepped aside to allow him entry. He moved inside quickly, clearing his throat, as she shut the door behind him. Her small travel bag was sitting atop her bed, and it looked as if she were already packed and ready to go. He turned to look at her to find she was already staring at him, arms crossed over her chest, her expression unreadable. Silence for a moment. He was weighing in his mind how to start when she spoke.

"If you have come to apologize, I would ask that we instead forget everything and move on." She briefly eyed the hairbrush she was still holding, running her thumb absentmindedly over the bristles. "I do not wish to speak of it again."

"I haven't come to apologize." Her eyes narrowed and he grimaced. "I mean, I have. But that's not all I've come here to say."

"Our boat leaves in an hour." Frustration beckoned but he swallowed it down. If there was even the slightest chance of making amends with her, he had to speak the truth.

"Sarah." He inhaled slowly, then licked his lips. "Sarah, you make me feel stupid." Her mouth dropped.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You make me feel stupid," he said again, pressing on as her face folded into a frown. "You are full aware of the vast difference in our upbringings, in our circumstances. While you studied art and literature and French, I was living on the street and sleeping under bridges." He hated to speak of the past. Absolutely hated it. He framed his words carefully, so as to avoid the bitter details. "But even as a child I knew that that was not the life I wanted. I did not want to...to suffer, and die penniless, forever a slave to my misfortune. So I strove to change it. And in many ways..." He gestured around him. "I feel that I have." She said nothing but her expression had softened as he spoke so he continued. "For most of my life, I have been looked upon as little more than a gutter rat. A hindrance. Something dirty, and undesired." He cleared his throat, uncomfortable. "Have you ever been forcibly removed from a place of business because your appearance was so unsightly, the shopkeeper thought you would scare away patrons? I have. I've been told I am stupid. Revolting. Worthless. By the time I was Henri's age, I could barely write my own name, much less read." Recollections of the past flashed through his mind swiftly, in harsh, vivid detail. He found it was difficult to look her in the eye, so he cast his gaze to the floor instead.

"I have had to fight my entire life, Sarah. Fight to stay alive. Then fight to prove myself to Dr. Franklin as his apprentice. In my early days at the shop, I would stay up well into the night practicing on the press, setting the type. Sacrificing sleep so that no one would see how I struggled with it. I read and studied as often as I could. I tried so hard to...to..." His voice trailed off as shame threatened to swallow him whole, the end of the sentence dying in the back of this throat: To change who I am. He couldn't confess the whole truth to her. He couldn't. He cleared his throat again and squeezed his eyes shut, wincing. "And so it is...it is disgrace that I carry with me that ignites the way it does when you...you correct me, or scold me, or withhold from me what I have done to upset you. It makes me feel stupid. And I get angry with you. For that I am sorry. I am still learning how to harness my tongue." He swallowed and finished his speech in a rush: "As for your other charge, that I am reckless when it comes to my life, for that I have no defense. Ingrained in me is the will to survive, no matter the cost, and it is a vestige from my previous life. As a result I often assume the risk of a thing to be minimal and that I will emerge unscathed. So it was with the mail delivery, and I assumed that all would be well. But in this I failed to consider you, and how you felt, and so I am...I am sorry for that as well." He cleared his throat, studying the floor. "I pray you can forgive me, Sarah. That is all."

Silence reigned, feeling heavier and heavier the longer it went on. The notion that she now found him to be completely abhorrent bothered him immensely, but he could think of no other means of explanation for his behavior, nor any other way to achieve reconciliation between them. What he had spoken was the truth, every word. His entire life, he had never allowed the opinion of any being, man or woman, to direct his destiny - nor had he ever found that he cared either. He should not care what she thought of him. He should not care if she hated him. But he did. Vastly so. Dare he say - he wanted her to like him.

What remained was only the question of why.

"James." She spoke softly, cutting into his musings. He could hear the careful movement of her feet on the floor, making her way over, but it was not until she placed a gentle hand on his arm that he found the courage to meet her gaze. Her eyes were brimming with understanding, forgiveness even, and the sight of it nearly sent him to his knees. She shook her head as she looked at him, opening and closing her mouth as if she wanted to speak, but then thought better of it. He smiled wanly at her, his heart suddenly pounding hard in his chest. "I just..." She sighed, shaking her head. "I just do not understand why you must be so cruel."

"I know," he began but she shook her head again quickly, pulling her hand from his arm.

"No, it's...have I ever, truly, acted as if I were better than you?" He blinked at her as she seemed to fold into herself. "The grammar corrections and our disagreements over the Revolution aside, have I really made you feel as if you were...below me?" He could see in her eyes that that particular accusation had hurt her the most, and that her question was genuine. She really wanted to know.

The past year and a half played out in his mind's eye then, in a rapid succession of memories that included her. How she had covered for them in the print shop in Boston, when that British officer came by to interrogate them. The horror in her features when Moses had been taken captive in Virginia by his enslaved brother's master. The silent tears that had poured down her cheeks when she watched her cousin die in her arms after the Battle of Concord. A familiar impression made itself known, the same one in fact that had formed the first time he'd ever laid eyes on her. Truth be told, she was nothing like she was supposed to be. A young woman of means, of comfortable wealth, yet here she was traversing the wilds of the unknown as the Colonies teetered on the brink of war. She, just like him, at only sixteen years of age had already borne witness to a slew of unprecedented horrors; and in that way, perhaps, they were not so different after all. Perhaps it was he, and not her, who had acted a brute on the basis of his past.

What a perfect arse he was.

"No." He looked her firmly in the eye and shook his head to emphasize his sincerity. "No, you have not. Hard as I have tried to escape my crass nature, our disagreements pull it back out of me. You are an exception to your upbringing while I..." He tapped his fingers on his chest. "I, am not."

"You know, I've not met many street urchins who managed to bungle their way into the employ of the Dr. Benjamin Franklin." The corner of her mouth tipped up into an almost-smile, but she straightened it out quickly. "Do try to give yourself some credit, Mr. Hiller." She turned to place her hairbrush in her bag, and he watched in fascination as she tied her hair back into her signature ponytail. When she turned to look at him again, her face was blank but he caught the glimmer in her eye just the same.

"Do you forgive me, Sarah?" He asked quietly. She paused, bringing her arms down.

"I don't know." She sighed and cast her gaze behind him. "I mean, I know I will. In time. Just..." Their eyes met. "I wish to be your friend, James. Not your adversary."

"I want the same." She nodded slowly at him, contemplating. Then she pointed to the window.

"We should try to have breakfast before heading to the docks." He bent his head toward her in agreement and put his hat back on.

"Right. Right you are. I will...meet you in the square?" She nodded again, clasping her hands in front of her. He smiled as he moved to her door, taking one last look before he left. She was watching him, her eyes pensive. "Thank you," he stated, wanting to fill the quiet. He motioned between them. "For this."

"Of course, James." And then she smiled. Smiled, and it seemed real now, more like her regular self and her tone was much lighter than it had been before. "Now get out of here before people start to think the worst." Tipping his hat toward her with a grin, he obliged and made his way down to the street to wait for her.

He was uncertain if he could mend the harm he had done. This was far and away the worst fight they had had to date, and he hoped that in time, he might be able to prove his regret to her. Sarah remained aloof but polite the rest of the morning in her typical English fashion. But later, as they were readying to board the ship, he moved aside to allow her first passage and held out his hand to assist her onto the gangplank; and as she took it, she squeezed his hand and smiled at him. It was a small gesture, albeit a familiar one, but it was enough.

For now, it was enough.


Y'all know I had to lean hard into this enemies-to-lovers trope. Drop a review if you feel so inclined.