A/N: This one takes place during the episode New York, New York, which has been one of my favorite episodes since I was a kid - so I couldn't resist.

I also had way too much fun writing this one.

August 22, 1776

He felt as if he were being choked.

The cravat Sarah had made him wear felt like rope around his neck, and he had told her as much as they headed to tea with Mrs. Radcliffe. That is a pity, she had replied. With it on, one might mistake you for a gentleman. Though slightly irritated by her words, he had chosen to take it as a compliment. Am I to assume you like what you see, Ms. Phillips? he had asked her, coyly. She had rolled her eyes and tsked, then headed into the parlor without another word. He had ensured he had wiped the smile from his face before entering close behind, bracing himself for the required pleasantries ahead.

The recollection of it had him smirking to himself, as the great lady herself went on about...something. He honestly hadn't been listening. "As Mr. Radcliffe used to say," Mrs. Radcliffe was saying, "this rebellion business will soon get out of hand." She took a sip of her tea as James frowned. Wow, he thought, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. How revolutionary.

But Sarah, ever the diplomatic one, spoke before he could. "I'm sorry I won't get to see Mr. Radcliffe this trip. My mother used to enjoy his stories." James shot her a quick glance but she pointedly ignored him. It was a good change of subject, at any rate.

"You said he's in...Canada?" James asked, reaching over to place his teacup back on the table. He pulled absentmindedly at his cravat - Lord, but it was uncomfortable.

"Yes," Mrs. Radcliffe said slowly, eyeing him carefully. He was not sure if Sarah had shared his politics with her mother's friend, but from the moment they'd arrived here, he'd been left with the distinct impression that their hostess wasn't too keen on him. "Seeing to some timberland we are thinking of buying along the St. Lawrence." Sarah shot him a glance, seeming to read his mind as he met her gaze - with everything happening in the city, it was awfully convenient that Mr. Radcliffe just so happened to be out of town. "Well," she went on, standing. "I'm just glad the British fleet has arrived." She stared out the window for a moment, then turned her gaze on them - but it felt as if she were boring down on him, specifically. "The sooner General Howe puts things right, the sooner we can all get this silly revolution business over with and get back to normal."

"Oh boy," James muttered to himself once she turned to look out the window again. Why was she so insistent on talking about this? Sarah shot him a warning glance, then leaned over to address Mrs. Radcliffe.

"I am certain his presence here will do just that, Mrs. Radcliffe." James rolled his eyes again, leaning heavily against the back of the sofa. "And I simply cannot thank you enough for allowing us to stay with you. It is of great benefit to be so near the action that we may better report on the happenings."

"I am happy to be of service to my King and country in this way, Sarah." The woman turned and headed back towards them, smiling primly once she sat down. "Though I do hope you represent the loyalties to our mother country in your work." She made it a point to stare at James, her expression unwavering, but it annoyed him just the same. Right then - so he wasn't imagining it. "Anything else is merely inciting the public to more violence."

"Of course," Sarah began, but he could not help himself.

"I certainly hope you are not advocating for a biased press, Mrs. Radcliffe." Their hostess cocked an eyebrow at him as he leaned forward, forearms on his knees, keeping his tone light. "My understanding is that such a thing occurs in England, but here in America, we value the truth."

"Is the truth now tantamount with inflammatory dogma?" She reached for her tea, looking contemplative. "I have read your published works, Mr. Hiller. I must say you edge dangerously close to the very works you claim to condemn."

Oh, how he hated these high society types. They had a way of insulting you without actually coming right out and doing so.

"That is a hefty charge, Mrs. Radcliffe." He smiled brightly at her and it was now his turn to ignore Sarah's wide-eyed stare in his direction. "Would you be willing to expound on what articles of mine you are referring to?"

"One that stands out most candidly is the piece you wrote about the Battles at Lexington and Concord." She tsked to herself, shaking her head. "A ghastly business all around. The blood that was shed there was not only unnecessary, but has cast us into an all out war with Britain. A war that these rebels cannot win." She sipped her tea again and hummed to herself, eyeing him callously. "And if I am not mistaken, you described these events - this rebellion - as the patriotic undertaking of a lifetime. British soldiers, you say, had no right to confiscate the colonists' ammunition and powder and the ensuing battles were the direct result of Great Britain's tyrannical motives."

"Tyrannical methods, actually." He grinned at her until his cheeks hurt. "It is not tyranny which motivates them, but the means in which they enact violence against the colonies they claim they wish to protect."

"James," Sarah said, laughing nervously, but Mrs. Radcliffe only shook her head.

"I see that you are passionate about your work, Mr. Hiller. It is fortunate that you have an English journalist at your side who is willing to balance your more...controversial subjects." She smiled thinly over her teacup. "But you ought to be more careful, lest anyone see it fit to charge you with sedition." Her eyebrow quirked up in seeming amusement, even as her eyes filled with disdain. God, but how he wanted to put her in her place; what felt a thousand comebacks flitted through his mind, none of which were fit for polite company. He could practically feel Sarah's eyes burning a hole into the side of his face.

"I strive to be as impartial as I possibly can, following in the footsteps of my mentor," he replied, shrugging in an effort to appear nonchalant. "And if such ambitions are considered treasonous - well." He held out his wrists and beamed at her. "Provide the cuffs, Mrs. Radcliffe."

"Gracious. You are the funny one, aren't you?" Her eyes slid towards Sarah before settling back on him. "Such jests in the presence of a lady. With such differing points of view, I imagine Ms. Phillips must have her work cut out for her."

"Sarah is marvelous." He could see Sarah's head snap towards him in his periphery, but if this woman thought she could use her in some pitiful attempt at insult, he felt compelled to speak some truth into the room. "And I have learned a great deal from her these three years hence. I admit that while initially I was opposed to the idea of an untrained journalist at my side, she has proven demonstrable worth, and courage, in the face of these unprecedented times." He turned his head to look at her, pleased at the shock written all over her features. "I value her immensely and now cannot imagine the Gazette without her."

"Well, that is...well." Mrs. Radcliffe laughed but it sounded stiff. "Encouraging to hear." James smiled at Sarah before turning his attention back to their hostess.

"I beg you to forgive me, but I'm afraid I must depart. I've a prior commitment I must attend to." He stood and walked over to her, taking her hand and placing a hasty kiss atop it. "I thank you for the tea and for your most gracious hospitality."

"Yes," Sarah joined in to his surprise, standing along with him. "We must go. But I do look forward to our next conversation, Mrs. Radcliffe."

"It is my pleasure, Ms. Phillips, Mr. Hiller." She bowed her head and offered a polite wave. "Supper will be served at five." As he turned back toward Sarah, he could not resist the sickening etiquette he had been immersed in for the last thirty minutes; so he held out his arm to her, grinning. She curtsied then turned to look at him, his arm, then back at him again. Smiling coyly, she took ahold of his arm and bade a final farewell to their hostess as they headed out of the house.

They walked along the street slowly, silent, as they did not truly have anywhere to go. But Sarah, in true form, broke the silence once the house was well behind them. "That was rather unexpected." She looked at him, her eyes brimming with questions.

"What was?" Her hand was still wrapped securely about the crook of his arm and he found he did not hate it; in fact, he was rather pleased that she had not pulled from his touch at the first opportunity and wanted to see how long it would last.

"Your near-argument with Mrs. Radcliffe. Not to mention your...your kind comments." She paused in her walk and he did the same as he looked down at her. He had grown a few inches, he suddenly realized. "Did you mean them, or were you merely trying to rile her up?"

"What, you can only take me seriously when we are fighting and not when I speak with benevolence?" He grinned at her, and it spread even wider at the sight of her cheeks flushing red. "Of course I meant it. Don't get me wrong: you are still a huge thorn in my side." She tsked, rolling her eyes heavenward. "But I do value you, Sarah. I might even dare to say you have grown on me."

"I suddenly regret asking," she deadpanned and he laughed, pulling her along to continue their walk. He headed towards the square, hoping to catch a glimpse of the soldiers there. "But...thank you." She sounded wistful now, almost grateful. "I admit I was pleasantly surprised at your praise."

"Well, Ms. Phillips." He eyed her mischievously, smiling again. "I think you will find I am full of surprises." She laughed and the sound of it sent a happy jolt through his chest, which then inspired the confusing question of why that had done so. He blinked a few times, then decided to change the topic. "I think your mother ought to make some better friends." She chuckled.

"Oh?"

"Aye. Mrs. Radcliffe is intent on shifting the course of each conversation back to politics. I was dying back there." Sarah made a quiet humming noise in the back of her throat.

"I could tell." She tilted her head up to look at him again, her vibrant eyes catching the sunlight. For a few, startling seconds he found himself mesmerized by the sight - until she spoke again. "But we are guests in her home, James. It would be prudent to stay polite."

"Polite. Right." He jerked out a nod as a familiar irritation worked its way up his spine. She sighed.

"James -"

"No, no. I get your meaning." He cleared his throat. "Shut your mouth, James. You're embarrassing me, James."

"I didn't say that." Her tone was surprisingly gentle as her fingers squeezed his arm. She offered a smile when he looked at her again. "I am accustomed to your fire, Mr. Hiller. But others may be keen on misunderstanding you, or...you know." She shrugged lightly. "See it fit to charge you with sedition."

"I will be damned." He stopped walking, staring at her as some bizarre thrill shot through his body. "Did you just make a joke?"

"Watch your tongue, Mr. Hiller," she said with false haughtiness. She pulled from his touch and kept walking, tossing a final comment over her shoulder at him. "You are in the presence of a lady." He watched her walk for a moment as a slow smile pulled at his mouth; then ran to catch up with her, laughing.

"So Ms. Phillips has jokes, now." He clicked his tongue, shaking his head as they moved along the edge of the square. "I have taught you well."

"Much to my chagrin," she said flatly, though a smile lit up her features as he laughed again. How nice, he thought. This is nice. She cleared her throat and motioned back with her head. "But prior to all of that...why were you making those faces at Mrs. Radcliffe's?"

"I couldn't stand it," he chuckled, raising his pinky to imitate the way she held her teacup as he mimicked her voice. "Seeing to some timberland we're thinking of buying along the St. Lawrence." Sarah's hand clamped over his mouth as she admonished him.

"Stop that. It's impolite." He fixed her with a steady gaze, somewhat startled that she had just done that in public. He decided to change the subject.

"I saw a list of Tories at General Washington's headquarters. Mr. Radcliffe's name was on it." Sarah frowned.

"You don't mean the army is going after private citizens?"

"No, but some other private citizens might. And I think Mr. Radcliffe and some of his friends thought it best to leave until things blow over." A drumroll suddenly sounded from behind them and they turned, spotting a familiar face in the drill.

"I don't think things will blow over very soon if our Henri has anything to do with it." James moved his gaze from Sarah to their junior apprentice, who was leading a fife and drum corps across the city green. The boy spotted them quickly and waved, halting in his tracks to issue a salute; which resulted in the rest of the party behind him to stumble and crash unceremoniously into one another. The sight of it was so bizarre and unexpected, the two of them burst out laughing. Chuckling to himself, James studied the group of soldiers that were following in their stead and spotted a young man staring directly at them.

Or staring right at Sarah, he noted quickly.

"Sometimes I think Henri believes this is all just a big party for his benefit," Sarah was saying, the lightness still in her voice. The young man across the way was smiling now, leaning over to get a better look, and James could scarcely fathom the oddity of what he was seeing.

"Uh, Sarah," he said, dropping his voice to a teasing tone as he leaned closer. "Don't look now, but I think someone has his eye on you." She turned to look and he honestly thought - well, he thought she would find it funny and join him perhaps in poking fun at this strange fellow. But instead, a blush crept up her neck as she shook her head.

"Oh...don't be foolish," she said, busying herself with her notepad as she walked a few paces off. James' eyes darted between her and the guy, and he felt somewhat...surprised at her reaction. Why did she seem so embarrassed? The man leaned over again, straining to get a better look as James stared right back at him, equal parts amused and alarmed. Don't do it, he thought, knowing full well what the man was considering. Don't...do it. But it was as if he had somehow heard his private thoughts, as the man suddenly stepped out of his regiment and made a beeline for Sarah, never taking his eyes off of her.

Oh, this was just ridiculous.

The man's pace slowed as he approached and he appeared to change his mind at the last minute, shifting his path to where James stood. "Awfully busy, isn't she?" he breathed out, obviously enamored. He didn't spare James a glance - just continued to stare at her backside as if she was the most beautiful thing he had ever beheld. Something pulled in his heart - something he didn't like the feel of.

"Yes," he replied, keeping his tone casual. He looked towards her, wondering if he could goad her into a reply. "She thinks she's a journalist." She turned to look over her shoulder at him, and the look on her face made him instantly regret his bravado. Gone was the lightness in her features from seconds before, replaced instead with hurt, confusion - anger. He stared back at her and offered a quick rise of his shoulders in a hapless shrug. I'm just teasing you, he wanted to say. You know that. But the man beside him spoke first.

"Miss, allow me to introduce myself," he said kindly, politely bowing towards her with a hand over his heart. "I am Udney Wolf-Hutchinson from Milford, Connecticut. My comrades in arms and I have arrived to defend this city and ladies - such as yourself - from the cruel, vindictive English." James barked out a laugh, quickly slapping a hand over his own mouth to stifle the sound. This guy was sure to get it now. Sarah eyed him strangely, then visibly softened her gaze as she looked back at her new friend.

"I am English myself, sir," she said sweetly and the sound of it...well, it annoyed him. If he had dared to say something like that, she surely would have bitten his head off or smacked the hat off of his head. "Does that make me cruel and vindictive as well?"

"Uh..." Udney stuttered, brows furrowed. "I was only repeating terms some of our rougher members commonly use to refer to the enemy." Seeming to gain his confidence back, he straightened and smiled widely at her. "Whether they are cruel and vindictive or gentlemen, they are soldiers, and I offer my strong arm for your protection."

Oh brother. James looked to Sarah again, slowly shaking his head. Come on, Sarah. Tell him off. Tell him you don't need protection. A strange look passed through her eyes as she met James' gaze. She smiled at him defiantly before looking to Udney once more.

Then she extended her hand towards him.

James' stomach dropped but he made a show of rolling his eyes as Udney approached her. This was...well. This was confusing. Maybe it was the brief moment of connection they had shared when he'd praised her at Mrs. Radcliffe's. Maybe it was the fact she had chosen to leave with him, even though she didn't have to. Or maybe it was the lingering sensation of her hand upon his arm, how the sound of her laugh had ignited that strange warmth in his chest. Whatever it was, he tried and quickly failed to quell the sudden yank of something unpleasant in his gut as Udney took hold of her hand.

What was wrong with him?

Who gave a rat's ass if some random soldier was flirting with her? Who cared that she was responding to it, enjoying it, encouraging it, smirking at him the way she was as if she somehow knew this was irritating the living hell out of him?

You do, his mind replied cheekily. You care.

Heart now thumping madly in his chest, he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away as Udney bent over, lips drawing infuriatingly close to the back of her hand - only to pause halfway as he caught sight of his colonel, staring daggers from across the green. "Forgive me," Udney laughed. "Duty calls!" Sarah smiled sweetly at him, then turned to watch him make his way back to his regiment. It was only then James noticed his hands had curled into fists at his sides and he balked, moving quickly to stand beside her. He wanted Udney to see him near her, for some reason.

"You've got to be kidding me," he said to her in a conspiratorial whisper. She did not reply but kept a steady gaze on her admirer. Despite now being back in formation, he was grinning right back at her. That pull on his heart tugged again, firmer now. "Didn't he say his name was Ugly?"

"It was Udney," she bit out, her tone changing entirely as she turned to look at him. The irritated look on her face - the one he was certain was reserved specifically for him - made his heart sink. "And you know it."

"I'm only..." His voice trailed off as she shoved past him, storming down the path they'd initially been headed. James tossed a final look in Udney's direction before he took off after her. "Sarah...wait up. What's wrong now?"

"You know," she ground out, "every time I think I've made even an inkling of progress with you, you turn around and do something like that. I honestly cannot stand it, James."

"What?" He caught up to her and kept her pace. "Do something like what?"

"She thinks she's a journalist," she said snidely, imitating his voice. Under differing circumstances it would be funny, but the look on her face stalled the laugh in his lungs. "Why would you say something like that? After what you quite literally just said at Mrs. Radcliffe's?"

"I don't know. I guess I just..." He shrugged, hoping the action made him look nonchalant. "...didn't know what to say to him. He was kind of peculiar, don't you think?"

"If by peculiar you mean gentlemanly and sweet." He could not help himself now; he barked out a sarcastic laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. "I am in earnest, James," she insisted as she shook her head in disapproval. "I know the concept is entirely foreign to you, but that is how you speak to a lady."

"I will remember that the next time I am in the presence of one." She stopped, turning to level him with an incredulous look. It dawned on him suddenly how his words had sounded and he backtracked, laughing nervously. "That did not sound right. I meant only -"

"You are unbelievable." She held up a hand to shush him when he tried to speak, shaking her head as she briskly walked off. He stared after her for a minute, his heart still hammering in his chest.

"He called your people cruel and vindictive!" he shouted after her, but she did not react or respond - she merely kept walking. And he let her this time, sighing heavily as he cast his gaze skyward.

Just like that, this day had gone to complete rot.

Obnoxious, juvenile, vexing bully -

Sarah sawed her way through her mutton a bit too roughly, and her knife scraped unpleasantly against her plate. Mrs. Radcliffe slid her gaze towards her, taking a dainty sip of her wine. "Are you alright, dear?"

"I am, Mrs. Radcliffe." Sarah studied the plate before her, her frustration mounting to the point where she was losing her appetite. Try as she might, she could not get the earlier interaction with James out of her head. It was fortunate that he had conveniently decided to eat supper elsewhere this evening; otherwise, she was certain they would be fighting again and she did not want to embarrass herself like that in front of their gracious hostess. Henri had shoved his supper down his gullet with alarming speed, then hastily excused himself to - well, she wasn't entirely sure. She and Mrs. Radcliffe had been exchanging light pleasantries up until this point, but it was obvious the woman was taking notice of her irritation.

"Are you certain?" She set down her fork and motioned for her servant to take away her plate. "You have been out of sorts since you returned this afternoon."

"I...well." Sarah offered a hasty smile as she needlessly wiped her fingers on the napkin in her lap. "I did have an unusual exchange with my colleague today. But all is well, truly." Mrs. Radcliffe studied her for a moment, quizzically.

"Sarah, if I may." She looked at her expectantly, subconsciously sitting a little taller. "Your mother is a dear friend of mine, and has been for many years. I have vastly enjoyed having you here and regard you as I would my own daughter." A kind smile lit up her face. "I know it must be difficult to be living here in the Colonies, not only amongst these so-called patriots, but in the company of your all-male guardians. All of this to say; if there is something troubling you that a feminine position would be better suited to address, please know I am here for you." She laughed lightly to herself. "I once was your age, after all, and I know well the difficulty of moving from the comforts of youth to the hardships of womanhood."

Sarah swallowed, blinking away tears. Oh, how she missed her mother; Mrs. Radcliffe did remind her so much of her, and it was not until this moment that she realized just how much she yearned for the graces of a maternal figure in her life. She cared for Moses and Dr. Franklin immensely, but the truth of the matter was that she did often feel like a fish out of water here - even after all this time. She hadn't many she would call a friend here, and James' confusing behavior only served to make her feel even more isolated.

And so she told her, carefully avoiding the detail that they hadn't actually been headed anywhere once they'd left the parlor that afternoon. "I simply do not understand why James acts so...brutish, sometimes," she finished, sighing through her nose. "It is so confusing, yet entirely unbecoming." Mrs. Radcliffe's mouth turned upward in a smile, her eyes sparkling. Sarah frowned, laughing politely. "What? What is it?"

"Oh, my dear." The servants brought dessert in and she thanked them quietly before turning her attention back to Sarah. "It sounds to me that your workfellow was jealous." Sarah could not contain herself; she burst out laughing, then quickly silenced herself with a hand over her mouth.

"Jealous?" she repeated, disbelievingly. "Surely not, Mrs. Radcliffe. Jealousy is the result of a protective nature, or thwarted affections. I assure you neither of which apply to Mr. Hiller." The woman raised her eyebrows.

"Are you certain?" Sarah balked, muttering out a quiet ehm. "Your friend is a young man full of passion - determination. His hunger for life overwhelms his better senses. So it is for young men, until the years subdue their uncompromising nature. And so in his jealousy, he resorts to more childish behavior at the prospect of a suitor catching your attention." She scooped a spoonful of her custard and smiled again. "I saw how he looked at you this afternoon, Sarah. He is drawn to you most assuredly. And how could he not be? You are a beautiful young woman and he would have to be blind for such to escape his notice."

Sarah's cheeks warmed and it suddenly felt a bit difficult to breathe. "I am afraid I do not see what you do, Mrs. Radcliffe. I feel it is obvious James holds me in low regard."

"A natural defense on his part, I should think. He lashes out to hide his affection because he thinks he is not good enough for you." The woman eyed her carefully. "Which is, if I may express my honest opinion, the truth. When he does eventually confess his true intention, I trust you will refuse him. Your parents no doubt would rather you marry a man from means; one who could offer you comfort and security."

"Mrs. Radcliffe," she said, laughing uncomfortably as a plunge of some baffling unease made her stomach flip. "I've no fear of such a thing happening. James would...would never."

"I hope you are right." She polished off the rest of her dessert, humming contentedly to herself. Then paused. "But if he did?" Sarah's heart began to pound.

"I would refuse him." She punctuated her words with a firm nod. "I do not...hold that sort of affection for him."

"Good. He has nothing to offer you, my dear. Not to mention he's obnoxiously recalcitrant." She stood and headed towards the doorway. "Join me for tea in the drawing room?"

"Certainly," Sarah said politely, though her tongue suddenly felt numb. "I will be along in a moment." Her hostess smiled and departed, leaving her with the sound of her fine skirts swishing away down the hall. As soon as she was gone, the smile melted from her face as her mind slowly - then at all once - seemed to fully grasp what Mrs. Radcliffe had just said. It wasn't just this insane presupposition that James held affection for her, no - it was her most rapid dismissal of James as a suitor, as if the mere idea of it was something laughable, something to be ashamed of. Irritating as he was, it wasn't as if he possessed no good qualities. Her fingers moved of their own accord over the gold around her throat; should she have defended him just now? Oh, damn it all. Now she felt guilty.

No, she countered to herself, staring hard at the table. You know as well as any that James can be a perfect arse sometimes. And it was true. He certainly could be. James and his stubborn insistence that King George was akin to the devil himself. James and his nasty mouth, which had gotten him into trouble more times than she could count. James, who oftentimes drove her absolutely mad.

But then...James. With his quiet and unwavering loyalty to those he cared for. His adventurous, courageous spirit. James who, in those quiet moments of honesty, proved himself to be a gentle young man with a heart as vast the sky.

James, who had gifted a heartbroken girl the only remaining tie to his parents without a second thought.

Oh, dash it all. She stood slowly, trying to remind herself that she was mad at him. But still...Mrs. Radcliffe had it wrong. Of that she was certain. James would make a fine match for someone someday, regardless of his station or what all he could offer. And as for him being jealous? James holding some kind of - affection for her because of how he'd apparently been looking at her in the parlor this afternoon? It was positively absurd! Even picturing it now was next to impossible, when all she could fixate on was how snide he'd been, how his manner had changed so suddenly, so entirely after Udney had made his introduction. Why he had seemed almost...hurt, after being so kind but a few moments before. Nothing about it made any sense. Unless...

No. This was ridiculous, not to mention impossible, so she forced the thought from her mind.

And along with it, the sudden plunge of excitement in her belly at the prospect of him being jealous that another man had paid attention to her.

Ooo Sarah...you startin' to feel a lil somethin'? It's weirdly fun to write about stupid teenagers crushing on each other. The times may change, but those hormones do not.

I think it's important to note that at this point in Colonial America, the social classes likely wouldn't have mingled much. I'm not trying to make Mrs. Radcliffe a bad guy here, but given that she's English (looking at you, British class system) - and James is a bit of a shit - she probably wouldn't think too fondly of him.