A/N: Wow! Thank you so much to those who have left reviews/followed. It's incredible to know there's fellow fans out there reading this - maybe this fandom ain't dead after all!

September 1, 1774

"No, you put it here. Like this." James lined the composing stick rapidly, his fingers moving deftly over the letters. "They go in backwards. So when the press comes down," he smacked his hands together for emphasis, "the text is printed facing the right way."

"I am familiar with the concept of a mirror image," Sarah replied, more snidely than she meant it. James rolled his eyes and sighed, muttering something under his breath.

"Well then why were you putting them in the wrong way?" He fixed her with a bold stare, as if to say got you. Her eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms in front of her, thoroughly irritated. His attitude had been terrible from the start and it was starting to wear on her nerves.

"Likely because this is the first time I have ever been shown," she said calmly, politely, with a strained smile. "While you have been doing it for years."

"No need for all that," he said, raising his hands in placation. "You're the one who asked." Sarah inhaled deeply, trying to swallow the rising irritation in her throat. James was right - she had asked to be shown the workings of the press, as she felt as if she were going mad passing the days in idle passivity. Dr. Franklin had assured her that she was not merely a guest in his home; she was a resident, with all the rights and responsibilities the others had. But it had gotten terribly boring merely watching the boys work on the paper, or taking the brief walk with Henri to get more ink. She had mentioned as much to Moses, and he had suggested she learn the workings of the shop. James had sputtered and disagreed, stating that there was no need for a third apprentice. But she's not an apprentice, Moses had laughed. She's a fellow journalist.

James hated it when she or anyone else equaled herself with him. Moses had told her it was due to James' having worked so tirelessly for the last four years or so, earning his keep and proving his capability despite his less-than-privileged background. Just give him time, Moses had advised. He's got a big heart, and loyalty like none other. He will come around...he just needs to get to know you better.

But in moments like these, it was certainly difficult to see that.

"Let me try." She held her hands out and when he paused, she wiggled her fingers in a give me that motion. "I cannot learn if I do not try it myself. Give it here." He raised an eyebrow at her, uttering a sarcastic hmmm under his breath. She hated it when he did that.

"You are being rather demanding, miss." He tapped the stick against his palm, shaking his head slowly. "I don't believe I have heard a single well-mannered turn of phrase from you since we began."

"James..." Her patience was waning, and it was clear he could see it. Though when he smiled at her, it almost seemed genuine.

"Just give 'er the stick!" Henri exclaimed, chuckling. He was sitting atop the counter, legs swinging back and forth as he watched the two of them go toe to toe. He honestly seemed quite entertained, watching them argue.

"Oh, I will," James said, a lightness in his tone, never taking his eyes off of her. "Just as soon as she decides to act like a lady."

"Oh that is rich coming from you," she snorted, her lips pursing in annoyance. "As soon as you act like a gentleman, I'll be as agreeable as Charlotte of Mecklenburg-Strelitz." James frowned.

"Who?"

"The Queen, James. His Majesty the King's lovely wife." She could not resist the rejoinder and felt some smug satisfaction as his face twisted in annoyance - any mention of the royals always got his blood boiling.

"Ah, well. That makes sense. I must have squared her name away amongst all of the other things I don't care at all about."

"Be that as it may," she grit out, "I would still very much like to try my hand at arranging the type." She held her hand out again. "Will you give it here or not?"

"I'm still waiting for you to be polite." He looked at her expectantly, eyes dancing. "And it's yours."

"James."

"My name ain't what I'm looking for," he taunted.

"Your name is not what you are looking for." His cheeks reddened slightly at the correction. Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes for a moment and bit out, "Please."

"Please what?"

"Please...give me the composing stick." With an exaggerated manner, he bowed towards her and held out his hand, producing said tool. She snatched it quickly before he could pull it back and he stood straight, laughing.

"Not the most lady-like behavior," he said, pulling down on his waistcoat. He turned and looked at Henri, grinning. "I've half a mind to write to her mother."

"My mother wouldn't open a letter from you," Sarah chided, moving to the other side of the press. She fixed him with a haughty glare. "I've already shared with her the uncouth manner of my American peers and she would simply toss it into the rubbish bin." Though she meant it to be insulting, James' smile widened.

"So you've told your mother about me?" Now it was her turn to blush, but it was more out of flustered frustration than anything else. Scowling, she hastily moved to grab a few more letters from the casing and began aligning them in the stick. James laughed and approached her, his hands in his breeches' pockets.

"I can do it myself," she snapped, but he came over anyway. Bending to lean on the press towards her, he offered a genuine smile.

"I was only teasing you." She tsked and ignored him, moving the tiles around. How did you spell harbor backwards? "I mean it," he pressed. "I'm just joking with you. Ask Henri - I do it to him all the time." The small boy leaped from the counter and came to stand by James' side, nodding his agreement.

"Call me a stiff Englishwoman if you must," she said briskly, refusing to look at him, "but I was always under the impression that the criterion for a joke is that it be funny." Henri burst out laughing, bending over to smack his hands on his knees. She cast him a quick glance and smiled as he made his way over to her, hugging her around the waist.

"I am not entirely sure what some of those words mean," he said, still giggling, "but you 'ave annoyed James, so I know it must be funny." She patted his head affectionately - over the course of the last nine months, she had grown rather fond of him and his mischievous antics. Humming lightly with satisfaction, she finally looked over at James who was staring at her with obvious displeasure. Though he had annoyed her, a whisper of guilt crept its way in.

"I am simply making good on my promise that I would make a gentleman out of James." She offered him a brief smile of truce but he did not respond in kind.

"Whatever," he muttered. He stood and moved away from them, towards the back door.

"Where are you going?" Henri called out.

"To the vats," he bit out. Henri's nose crinkled and Sarah found hers did as well - turning the hides over in the vats was far and away the most disgusting job here.

"But I thought you 'ated doing that?" Henri asked.

"Well do you want to do it?" he barked out, voice rising nearly to the point of yelling. Sarah cast a quick glance between the two of them, noting James was now as red as a beet. Henri grumbled something under his breath and pretended to poke at the press. "Right. That's what I thought." And then he stormed off, leaving the two of them standing there, silent. Sarah finished arranging the type after a few minutes and showed it to Henri, who gave her a smile and a thumbs up. Given that he was still learning how to read English, she wasn't entirely sure if she should lean on his judgments just yet.

"I think I made him angry," she finally said. Henri grabbed a hold of the press bar and leaned backward, slowly pulling himself back and forth.

"James is just jealous that you are learning so quickly." He flashed her a big smile. "He told me once it took 'im almost a whole year to learn how to set the type correctly!" He seemed to find it rather amusing, but Sarah only nodded.

"Well he was a lot younger back then. I'm sure that made it more difficult."

"He was older than I am now when he first arrived 'ere," Henri scoffed. To emphasize the point, he took the composing stick from her hand and carefully laid it on the galley. He stared hard at it for a minute or two, then beamed up at her. "You did it! It looks perfect!" Sarah leaned over and reviewed her work, smiling. She had only put together a very short sentence, but given that it was her first time, she thought she had done rather well.

"Thank you," she grinned. "With practice, I think I will be able to get the hang of it rather quickly."

"And then you will be even faster than James!" It seemed he sensed the possibility of camaraderie over making fun of James, as he laughed again at the thought. Sarah shook her head at him; she had to set a good example for him and not speak ill of their friend when he was out of the room.

"Oh, I don't know about that. I've seen how fast he can work - sometimes even writing and setting the type at the same time. I've no idea how he does that." Henri gave a quiet mm sound, as if he weren't all that impressed. But it was true - she had marveled at his speed the first time she'd watched him working alongside Moses, somehow arranging the letters backwards and upside down as if it were second nature, whilst he was excitedly recounting out loud all they had seen in Boston. She had considered telling him how astounded she was at his skill, but then he had shooed her away from the press, insisting she would get in the way. You'll get your hair or your skirts caught and Dr. Franklin will be cross with me, he'd insisted and so she had bit her tongue and stormed out of the room. That felt like only yesterday, but it was just dawning on her that it had been over a month now since they had returned from Boston.

"Well Moses says that I am the youngest apprentice he has ever worked with and that by the time I grow up, I will be a master!" Henri was saying, riling himself up. He let go of the bar and started jumping in circles, lightly tapping his hand on the press as he went 'round. She couldn't help but laugh - his energy was positively contagious.

"Henri, how old are you anyway?" Behind them, she heard James re-entering the shop, barefooted and carrying his shoes. He paid them no mind as he moved towards the back of the room, stony-faced. Ordinarily she would toss a comment over about the smell that had followed him from the vats, but it did not seem he was in a jesting mood anymore.

"Neuf," Henri said proudly. He paused in his circular walk, slowly counting on his fingers with a frown on his face. "Well...nearly there. My birthday is next week." Sarah gasped loudly, clapping her hands together in delight.

"It is? Oh Henri! We must do something special!" His head snapped up in her direction excitedly, eyes dancing.

"Really?"

"Oh, of course. I will make you a cake. And perhaps have a few other treats as well. Presents of course..."

"Presents?" he exclaimed. "Tres magnifique! I never get presents on my birthday!"

"Yes you do," James suddenly said, his voice snide. "Moses and I got you gifts last year."

"Well what about the year before that?" Henri replied smugly, crossing his arms over his chest. Sarah cast a quick glance at James, who looked positively incredulous.

"You weren't living here then," he stated, his voice deadpan. "And we hadn't even found you yet."

"Exactement," Henri laughed, slapping his knee. "So you both owe me."

"Quit speaking French," James snapped. "You need to practice your English."

"When is your birthday, Sarah?" Henri asked, ignoring him completely. She pressed her lips together to keep herself from laughing, certain it would anger James even more. The two of them might not be blood-related, but they were certainly brothers if she ever saw any.

"December 2nd," she replied, smiling teasingly at him as she continued. "So I expect a few treats in a few months' time from you too, Henri." He nodded enthusiastically, continuing his march around the shop.

"Oui, oui. It is a deal." She laughed again, thoroughly charmed by his boyish parade. Idly tapping her fingernails on the press, she turned to look at James.

"What about you, James?" He didn't look up from where he was sitting, rolling his stockings back up his calves. "When is your birthday?"

"I don't know." She thought he must be joking and waited for a continuation, but he stayed silent as he put his shoes back on.

"What do you mean, you don't know?" She asked, watching him stand and move towards the supplies in the back of the shop. He began pilfering through them and pulled a few sheets of paper from the pile.

"I mean," he said over his shoulder at her, "that I don't know." Henri paused in his walk again, making a face. Sarah frowned and crossed her arms over her chest as James moved past her to stack the pages on the sill.

"How do you not know when you were born?" His movements seemed angry as he piled the paper and pulled a few more tools from the shelves - almost aggressively.

"Well gee, I suppose that's the sort of thing that happens when your parents are killed in a house fire and you're too young to remember it." He turned to face her as he tapped his head with his forefinger sarcastically - but his voice had a defensive edge to it. "I've tried real hard to remember, but considering I was an infant at the time, I can only venture to guess." Stunned, and a little embarrassed, Sarah only stared at him as he ran a hand across his nose, staring at her. She swallowed.

"I thought it was in June?" Henri chimed in from behind them. James' eyes shifted quickly in his direction before moving back to Sarah, and though he was answering their small apprentice, he kept his gaze on her.

"It's an estimation," he bit out, "that Dr. Franklin thought fit the timeframe, given that lightning storms typically happen in the early summer." He paused for a moment, absently tapping his fist on his thigh. "So by all perceived accounts, I turned fifteen this summer. I'm fairly certain I was born in 1759 - I've always known my age. I think." Silence fell as his eyes darted back and forth between her and Henri. "Satisfied?"

"James..." Her heart felt heavy for some reason. "I'm sorry, I -"

"Not important." He breezed past her, his face hard. "It's just a day."

"My birthday is September 10th," Henri said happily, oblivious to the tension as James headed towards the doorway. "And I will be nine! James, where are you going now?" Sarah watched as James paused in the doorway, his fingers tapping on the wood.

"To cut...firewood. We need to stock up for winter."

"But Moses does that!" Henri called out after him as he disappeared again.

"Well Moses isn't here!" The edge was back in his tone as he shouted from the back of the house, but Henri just shrugged, unbothered. Sarah stared at the doorway for a moment, her fingers nervously tapping her arm.

"I should go talk to him," she found herself saying. Henri began to hum as he jumped around in circles.

"I wouldn't," he said matter-of-factly without breaking stride. "He is in a bad mood. Moses will be back from the market soon and he can go speak with him."

"I feel I may have hurt his feelings." Henri didn't reply as he drifted into his own world, then announced he was going outside to play. She nodded in reply and stood at the window for a while, pondering, watching Henri skip up and down the street outside. Though she'd been in the Colonies a few months short of a year, James remained something of an enigma to her. There were days he was terribly rude, barking out orders or refusing to answer her questions; then there were times he was silent, almost brooding, and she didn't feel too keen on being around him. But then there were other days, or occasional moments where he was patient, kind, charming - even sweet. Despite their frequent arguments, she had begun to wonder if that was the real James - the James Moses always spoke of. It seemed to her that whenever he was challenged or (more often) felt like he was stupid (which he most certainly was not), was when he would get angry or shut down. Thinking on it, his more agreeable moments were when he felt confident in his work or when the two of them were getting along. What a strange boy he was.

Still though...her conscience was prodding her to apologize properly to him. He had told her of his parents' violent death; he had shown her the ring he wore around his pinky finger in silent memorial to a woman he never got to know. Her fingers grazed the bare skin on the front of her throat, still fiercely missing the locket her father had gifted her that she'd subsequently lost in Boston Harbor. She wondered what it would be like if she had never known her father or mother - if she hadn't the benefit of knowing the exact day she was born. It was honestly something she had never considered before. Sadness overwhelming her, she decided it was only right to go speak with him and apologize.

She waited a bit before she did so, hoping that he had had time to cool off. As she headed towards the back of the house, she found her heart was slamming hard against her ribs. She could not ascertain why she suddenly felt so nervous. Perhaps because I do not want him to yell at me, she thought to herself as she opened the back door that led to the stables. Yes. That makes sense. She caught sight of him out near the barn, facing her direction but he hadn't yet taken notice of her. His face was red from his exertions; several pieces of his hair were slicked across his forehead, damp with sweat. She approached him slowly, waiting for him to look up, but he did not do so until she was right in front of him. He stared at her a moment, wordless, as he swung the axe up and over his head, then promptly down on the log between them. It split cleanly in two and he cleared his throat, running his wrist across his forehead as he gathered the pieces. "Hello," she said quietly. He stood upright and threw the wood on a pile at the side of the barn, tossing his loose hair behind his shoulder.

"Hi." He moved to pick up the axe again, then another piece of wood. She smoothed her hands over her skirts. How to start?

"I...I could not do that." She motioned toward the log he was setting before him. "Split it in two, I mean."

"Well sometimes it takes a few hits." He swung the axe up again and brought it down with a grunt - this time it only cut halfway through. "See?" He braced his foot on the log and yanked the axe back with practiced agility. He readied his stance again, then looked at her. "You're my bad luck charm." The axe came down and completed the split, sending the two halves scattering in opposite directions. Sarah sighed.

"Well that was a bit rude." He smiled at her and set the blade on the ground in front of him, leaning forward on the handle.

"I meant it to be funny. Apologies." She crossed her arms over her chest and smiled back at him; she supposed it was a little funny. He studied her face for a moment and it was only then she noticed the masked sadness in his eyes. She was readying a reply in her mind when he suddenly blurted, "I'm sorry."

"No..." She frowned, shaking her head. "No James, I take no offense. I actually came out here to apologize to you."

"There's no need for that." He cast his gaze sideways, swaying back and forth on the axe handle. "I should not have yelled at Henri. Or...spoken to you, like I did." As I did, she almost corrected him but then thought, what's the use in that?

"I was crass towards you. I should have remembered what you shared with me about your..." She gestured between them, suddenly uncertain. "Your...ill-fated upbringing." To her surprise, he began laughing as he ran a hand through his unkempt hair.

"You can say I'm a poor orphan," he laughed. "It's alright."

"That is not what I mean," she said, flustered. He stared at her, his eyes alight with mirth. She inhaled deeply and cleared her throat. "I meant only that I spoke to you with insensitivity and felt badly, afterward. I just wanted to make sure you were..." She gestured toward him again. "...alright."

"I am fine, Sarah." The corner of his mouth lifted but still she saw the edge of sadness in his features. "I have been a poor orphan all my life. The subject is nothing new to me."

"Well." A warm autumn breeze moved between them, tousling his hair again. For some reason it made her laugh. "I am glad that you are alright." He bent his head towards her politely.

"And I am glad you deigned to apologize to one with such a lowly station." Her eyes widened as a frustrated gasp slipped out; but when he tilted his face toward her again, he was smiling. "I am teasing you. Honestly Sarah, you must become accustomed to this if there is any hope for you and I to get along." She stared at him blankly for a moment and his smile dropped, uncertain. But then she smiled at him, laughing lightly, shaking her head in amusement.

"You are the strangest American I've ever met," she quipped. He stood tall and swung the axe over his shoulder, looking up at the sky.

"I am one of the only Americans you've ever met," he said, "but I will take it as a compliment." She turned to go and had walked a few steps back toward the house when a thought struck her. She looked over her shoulder at him, surprised to find he was still watching her.

"I would have done something special for you too, you know." He raised an eyebrow. "If I had known it was your birthday, I mean. I would have." Something like pleasure settled in her heart as she noted the look of surprise on his face.

"It's just a day," he said again, but this time it sounded more rehearsed to her ears. She nodded a slight agreement and shrugged.

"Perhaps. But a day worth celebrating, for the people around you." She paused for a moment. "The people who care about you." He did not reply - merely stared at her with a slight frown, but she turned quickly so he would not see the smile on her face as she re-entered the house.

September 5, 1774

"A little more, Moses. Good. That looks great." James watched carefully as the hammer melded his mother's gold into something resembling a locket-shape. Remarkably, he did not find that the sight saddened him; instead it felt rather exciting, as if he was putting the jewelry to good use. Though a voice beckoned in the back of his mind that Sarah would hate it, would find it ugly and dreadful and stupid, she didn't seem like that type. The girl had slept in a barn for six months with no complaint, for heaven's sake.

"Would you please stop that noise?" Sarah's voice startled all three of them and James turned, making note of her angry expression. "I'm trying to concentrate!"

"Go ahead, James," Moses said with a smile, placing the makeshift necklace in his hand. "It's finished." James swallowed and took it. Why were his hands suddenly shaking?"

"Sarah?" he squeaked out. She seemed to sense his distress and softened her tone.

"What is it?"

"The boys have a little something for you," Moses supplied, a smile in his voice.

"For me?" She looked genuinely surprised as she watched James approach. Heart slamming against his ribs, James faltered for a moment, unsure of what to say.

"Here," his mouth decided for him as he held out the jewelry. Her fingers moved over the gold carefully as a smile swept across her features.

"For me?" She sounded happy and the relief of it emboldened him; he moved to stand behind her to clasp it around her neck. His fingers accidentally brushed against her skin as he did so, and he marveled at how soft it was. Panic then swept over him in short order for even thinking such a thing, then a sudden concern that she might think he - she might -

"Moses made it," he said to her, softly, trying to deflect.

"It was my idea!" Henri shouted out. James fixed him with a stern look - this kid lied without missing a beat, but he figured this time it was okay. The thought of it being a communal gift seemed more fitting so that she wouldn't think it was his ideation, his gold, as a thank you for her kindness.

"It's beautiful!" she exclaimed, her eyes alight with joy as she turned to face him. It was the first time in recent memory that she had looked upon him with something besides disdain, and he couldn't help but beam back at her.

"You like it?" he asked, grinning.

"I love it!" she said, her smile widening. Pride, along with another bout of relief, swelled in his chest; but Sarah, ever astute, frowned with curiosity. "But where in the world did you get the gold?" Lie! was his first thought, but she was brilliant and would be able to tell, he was sure. And now Moses was looking at him with an amused grin on his face - why was he grinning like that? James subtly tried to move his hands behind his back so she wouldn't think to look, but the movement drew her gaze anyway. He smiled at her - maybe a question would be a helpful distraction?

"Are you sure you like it?" Understanding dawned in her eyes and not for the first time since he'd met her, he marveled at her astuteness. She gasped softly, covering her mouth with her hand, as her eyes moved between his arm and his face.

"Your ring!" she exclaimed quietly. Her eyes shone with emotion and he didn't know what to do so he simply shrugged. Her fingers moved over the gold as she smiled again. "It's the greatest gift I've ever received."

Yes!

"Is it as nice as the one you lost?" Henri asked, running over. "I told James it would be too ugly for you." James shot him another look, suddenly wanting to throttle him as a blush crept up his neck. The boy only smiled cheekily and ignored him.

"It's even nicer," Sarah said, smiling down at him then shifted her gaze to James. "Certainly the most beautiful thing I've ever owned." Henri did a little cheer and Moses gave James a wry smile before turning back to his work desk. Honestly - what was that? He met Sarah's eyes again, surprised to find she was still looking at him. She moved toward the back of the shop as Henri bounded off, and placed a gentle hand on his arm. "Thank you," she said quietly. She offered another kind smile, and squeezed his arm before walking past and back upstairs.

"You are welcome," he called out softly, a beat too late for her to hear. His face felt hot and he shook his head, wondering why he suddenly felt so embarrassed.

And why her touch had left a tingling sensation up his arm.

A/N: A few brief notes on the timeline here. While the episodes make it seem like each event came right after the other, the gang here actually would have been in Boston from December 1773-at least June of 1774 if they were, in fact, witnessing all of the historical events that are mentioned. Notably:

The Shutdown of Boston Harbor: Occurred on March 25, 1774, following Parliament's passing of the Boston Port Act.

The Intolerable Acts (including the Quartering Act): Passed in June of 1774, and was an attempt to punish Boston for their act of rebellion.

Considering the length of time it would take to get this news across the Atlantic (about 7-8 weeks), it seemed only fitting to abide by a more realistic passage of time.

(Yes. I'm overthinking this.)

Also, fun fact: the unpleasant task of turning the hides over in the vats was a real job for an apprentice in a print shop. Leather hides were used for the covers of the ink beaters and had to be tanned just right to ensure there were no flaws in the type on a page. The apprentice would turn the hides over and stomp on them with their bare feet, then wash off at the water pump. Oh, and that smell I mentioned? The hides sat in vats of urine.

Yes. You read that right. I just don't know whose urine.