FOR HONOR

"Right. Well, don't expect me to sign up for that incredibly short list."

“Psh. As if I’d ever want you on that list,” she muttered. 

This man was arrogant as all feck. Did he seriously think he was the one coming up with any plans as though he were some sort of treasure trove of epiphanies? The evidence spoke for itself. When it came to planning, he was about as useful to her as a sodden blanket. Slumping back in her chair, she folded her arms and wished she were anywhere but right where she was. But, unfortunately, the war wouldn’t let anyone rest. 

“Washington’s powdered wig, how the hell did you graduate from Yale or rise to the rank of Major with your pea sized brain?” 

Aggravated, Tallmadge spat, "But again: until you present a better idea, I'd rather you not dismiss my thoughts so harshly!"

In a split second, his expression went from irritated to horrified, his mouth agape as he sputtered, “Just what are you proposing? That we...th-that we commit debauchery with multiple women?"

“Oh no. Sorry.” she replied, leaning toward him again, feigning a misunderstanding, “I’m proposing that you commit debauchery with multiple women.” 

Nina grinned and slapped Tallmadge’s shoulder as the color drained from his face. That shock, however, was quickly replaced by outrage as he snatched the purse from her hand. 

"No," he growled. "It's bad enough that you're suggesting I lay with one woman, but several? That I cannot do." 

“Unless you can suddenly shit better ideas, then I don’t see any way around it.”

"I can lie and ask them into a room, but anything beyond that point will just be us talking. Do you understand?" 

“Ah, so that’s your brilliant tactic, is it?”

He sneered. "Normally, I can't get you to shut your insufferable trap, so I imagine this is a task at which you'll excel."

Holding her hands up, Nina failed to stifle a snort, “Hey, far be it for me to assume a prude doesn’t get how these things work, but sure, we’ll try it your way. Feckin’ pop off, Major!”

Catching sight of a triad of harlots ogling at Tallmadge from the bar, she nodded toward them and flashed a challenging smirk, "Why don't you go over there and round up some hussies then, eh?"

“Oh no. Sorry.” Nina mockingly fluttered her lashes. “I’m proposing that you commit debauchery with multiple women.” 

Benjamin pulled back, affronted. "Excuse me?"

She clapped a hand onto his shoulder, causing him to shake her off as she said, “Unless you can suddenly shit better ideas, then I don’t see any way around it.”

"If nothing else, it'd be better than yours," he grumbled. Expression sour and pointed, he said, "You cannot seriously expect me to believe that these women want carnal intimacy with every man who sets foot in this establishment. They are hungry for coin, not...not blanket hornpipe, so I just so happen to think they'd delight in being paid to talk."

Nina snorted. “Ah, so that’s your brilliant tactic, is it?”

"As opposed to what, fetching my mettle?" he gritted. "At least my plan gives us both a shred of decency! Something of which you are sorely lacking!"

Rocketing up from the table, Benjamin swiped the purse and scowled at her. "And what do you intend to do while I work the room? Scare away potential intelligence? God only knows it's been scared straight out of your skull."

After (yet another) dig at his priggish mien, Nina nodded toward a group of harlots in the corner. "Why don't you go over there and round up some hussies then, eh?"

"Do not call them hussies," Benjamin snapped, mortified. "I am merely going to speak to some local ladies who, ah..." He trailed off, locking eyes with one of the women. She obscenely protruded her tongue into her cheek. Nearly shuddering, he amended, "Well, they clearly enjoy a rousing good talk, that's all."

Never one to deny a challenge, Benjamin approached the group and felt his skin crawl amidst their low-lashed appraisal. He gave his false name -- John Bolton -- and in a rush, quickly asked, "Would any of you, ah...would you mind terribly if you accompanied me and a friend into a room?"

The redhead who'd tongued her cheek looked him over, rolling her shoulders back and pronouncing her immodest breasts. "How much?"

"A few shillings each, to start," Benjamin said, praying that he had enough to sate these ogling women.

Giddy, the blonde at his side grabbed him by the hand and started tugging, a shrill, grating giggle in her throat as she cooed, "And just what do you and your friend like, hmm? Tell Essie whatcha want, love, she ain't shy."

Unsure if she was Essie or if it was the redhead, Benjamin glanced toward Nina and frantically gestured for her to follow. As much as he loathed the woman, he wasn't keen on being alone with these harlots; they could pitpocket him for all he knew, and he'd be none-the-wiser.

“If you need coin, I’ll give you coin,” she reassured, rolling her eyes, “God knows you’re gonna need it to appeal to these louts and trollops.” 

Tallmadge, of course, was still reeling from her implication that he wanted to lay with her. At least she could count on her teasing to get a reaction out of him in one way or another. It kept her on her toes, as well as humored.

"It must be exhausting being so loathsomely uncouth all the time. I can assure you, Miss Zenik: you will not find a husband behaving like this."

The comment caused her to frown and take on a slightly more miffed tone, “Who says I’m in need of one? I’ve been married before, wise arse. As hard as it might be for your plume hatted head to comprehend, men find me desirable.” 

She had no intention of elaborating on the subject. The only reason she’d mentioned it to begin with was to prove a point, to make him eat his words. He didn’t have the right to know more than that. 

“It’s not a common occurrence to carry on conversation while rutting. No. Pillowtalk is for after and usually only for those who care to know more than a quick pop off – provided they pay for it, of course.” 

Seemingly just as exhausted and embarrassed as before, Tallmadge continued, "If one of us can pantomime a certain act, perhaps the other can talk to the equally engaged couples in the room?"

Nina huffed something akin to a breathy chortle, “You want me ‘pantomime’ getting you off? Sorry, Ponyboy, but it’s gonna take a little more than that to get what we need.”

Leaning in, she passed him a small coin purse, “You might have to convince one or more of these fine ladies to join us in a room, away from prying ears, so we can inquire about ol’ Rogers the Dodger.”

To Benjamin's surprise, Nina snapped back at his remark with excessive vitriol. Although she wasn't friendly, per se, she'd never been outright hostile with him before.

“Who says I’m in need of one?" she bit back. "I’ve been married before, wise arse. As hard as it might be for your plume hatted head to comprehend, men find me desirable.” 

"Desirable?" The word was out before he could stop it, and biting his cheek to keep a straight face, Benjamin huffed and rolled his eyes. "Right. Well, don't expect me to sign up for that incredibly short list."

Whether Nina was still sour from his commentary, or she genuinely didn't agree with him, she was quite quick to cut down his idea. “It’s not a common occurrence to carry on conversation while rutting. No," she dismissed. "Pillowtalk is for after and usually only for those who care to know more than a quick pop off – provided they pay for it, of course.” 

Benjamin sighed, clear exasperation darkening his face. "Well, if you have a better idea, I'm bloody well waiting! Because thus far, it's only been me coming up with varying plans, while you sit there stuffing your face!"

Nina sneered, laughing around a mouthful. “You want me to ‘pantomime’ getting you off? Sorry, Ponyboy, but it’s gonna take a little more than that to get what we need.”

"I don't want anything from you," Benjamin gritted. "But again: until you present a better idea, I'd rather you not dismiss my thoughts so harshly!"

Without further preamble, she passed him a purse -- more than likely filled with his bloody coin -- and said, “You might have to convince one or more of these fine ladies to join us in a room, away from prying ears, so we can inquire about ol’ Rogers the Dodger.”

Benjamin's mouth dropped. "I beg your pardon?" Flustered, his eyes rolled toward the rafters, almost as if trying to cast out the very image. "Just what are you proposing? That we...th-that we commit debauchery with multiple women?"

He suddenly felt ill. Swallowing around his nausea, Benjamin glanced over his shoulder at the preening ladies of easy virtue, then returned his attention to Nina with a scowl. "No," he denied. "It's bad enough that you're suggesting I lay with one woman, but several? That I cannot do." Antsy, he snatched up the coin purse. "I can lie and ask them into a room, but anything beyond that point will just be us talking. Do you understand?" He sneered. "Normally, I can't get you to shut your insufferable trap, so I imagine this is a task at which you'll excel."

Fantine told Cosette to play in the room over. She had survived the Thénardiers, Fantine would not subject her to the games this man had her mother playing. Cosette was content to play with her doll as they spoke, Fantine's eyes glancing over to the doorway every now and then to ensure Cosette was alright.

"And if "we" succeed?" she asked, her eyes unable to stop the way they narrowed. "What then? You'll return us to the streets?" Her voice trembled, her anger giving way to concern— not for herself, but for Cosette.

Of course Esme wandered back in with mention of purchasing her something. She could hardly blame the girl for being enamoured by the man. Part of him reminded her of Tholomyes, and Fantine could not define whether she hated him or not. Still, with hands tied, Fantine released a sigh and nodded her head.

"Yes, I know it is best for her." Fantine may be illiterate, but she wasn't stupid. "But I have little to change into, Monsieur, especially should my wardrobe displease you so. It will seem you will have to lend me a shirt and some breeches in the time being."

The dismissal of Cosette was Benjamin's first warning that this wasn't going to be a pleasant conversation. Beyond their initial meeting, there had never been any warmth nor levity between them -- not that he could blame her. Whenever they'd first encountered one another, both were wearing masks; both were dishonest, and exhaling, he wiped a hand over his mouth once Fantine spun on him in a fury.

"The streets?" he echoed, startled. "Madam, I can't very well take you with me...you are not my wife. I could potentially hire you as a servant, but if that idea is detestable to you, then I can ensure you receive a weekly stipend. It's the least I could do for your service." Here, he lifted his chin. "I've already told you: I may be stern, but I am not cruel. If you think I haven't developed an ounce of affection for Cosette during our travels, then you're wrong -- I have grown fond of her, and I'd rather cut off my own hand than cast her out to these jackals."

As if being summoned, Cosette wandered back into the room, her round eyes shining with intrigue and a small, hopeful little smile on her face.

Forcing a smile of his own, Benjamin entreated, "Why don't you play a little longer, dear-heart? Your mother and I are planning our evening -- it's to be a surprise."

The girl gave an eager squeak and then bustled off to obey, clearly fearing that if she lingered, he would retract the promised surprise. Then Fantine went ahead and said that, and utterly horrified, Benjamin turned toward her with a dropped jaw.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked. "You actually expect me to dress you down in...in my breeches? Where just anyone can see your figure?" Embarrassed, Benjamin was quick to turn his head, if only to hide the rapidly blooming red in his cheeks. "No, no, it just isn't done," he admonished. "Perhaps my friends will have something to lend you, because...b-because it would be obscene to have you dressed otherwise. Besides..." He glanced at her again, only to immediately look away. "I am much taller than you. My clothing would scarcely fit."

everything had been going fine, she had been going about a normal day and then before she knew it, there was this huge flash of light, a flash of light that had left her blinded only momentarily. the next thing sharon knew, she had opened her eyes to someplace different entirely, she was someplace different and she couldn’t mark down where, how, or why, and that was rather frightening. the man that had found her was dressed differently and knowing her history or most of it, she knew that this was a different time period - that and the fact that she was being escorted somewhere. this couldn’t be possible, could it? had she - no, she couldn’t even think of that right now. she knew this wasn’t a nightmare, she wasn’t dreaming, this was reality.

looking around the stockade when she was met by lantern light, an actual lantern!, her eyes met the strangers face before looking down at what she had been wearing. it was absolutely freezing and this was hardly appropriate attire, a crop top and tight fitting shorts but where she had been before was warm and lovely. “thank you for having him get me a coat, it is rather cold.” when he stepped forward and she could get a better look at him, sharon smiles softly but one that soon fades when he speaks. oh my lord!

“it’s a pleasure to meet you major. wait, wait, wait, as in…george washington?” her eyes go wide for a moment, things clicking together in her head before her expression softens once again. “no, I have no idea. I just know that I’m a long way from home. my name is sharon carter. you’re probably worried that I’m an enemy or something, right?” brows furrow, watching him closely as her arms are wrapped around her small frame.

When the woman once more brought attention to her garments -- if they could even be considered as such -- Benjamin cleared his throat and straightened, still unsure of just where he could safely look.

"Danvers should be back soon" he replied, anxiously flexing his hands. "I trust you were robbed? It's...these lands are dangerous for travelers, so you're fortunate they did not also demand your..." Here, he made a face and waved in her direction, still not maintaining eye contact. "Your underthings."

The woman became animated suddenly, her voice pitching with recognition, and perplexed, Benjamin looked to her with cautious intrigue. "Yes, General Washington," he affirmed. "Do you know him?"

Everyone in the colonies and beyond certainly knew of him, but he didn't wish to assume, and most especially given her odd burst of excitement.

She introduced herself as Sharon Carter -- it wasn't familiar, and thus, didn't serve to ease his suspicions.

"Sharon," Benjamin echoed, a soft smile touching the corner of his mouth. "As in, 'the flower of Sharon' mentioned in the Song of Solomon? My father is a reverend, so I'm afraid my mind is chock-full of references." Seeming to remember himself, he flushed and apologized, "Forgive me, Miss Carter. I did not mean to behave as though we're familiars. Regardless of your identity, here in this army, we at the very least strive to uphold the title of gentlemen."

Sharon hugged herself around the waist. "you’re probably worried that I’m an enemy or something, right?”

His smile tightened. "You assumed correctly," Benjamin replied. "Until we can verify who you are, I'm afraid we'll need to keep you in solitary confinement." Expression growing more earnest, he added, "Do you have any relatives close by? Any friends, or acquaintances, or even a man of God who can vouch for you?"

Turn season 3 episode 5: Hypocrisy, Fraud, and Tyranny

"By God, maybe I'll have to take all three," he quipped, prompting her to laugh softly. Of all the things she could be doing after landing herself in another time period, playing matchmaker certainly hadn’t been on her list. And yet there was a certain air of normalcy to it that life in the dying so called ‘wild west’ hadn’t been kind enough to give her. 

Clearing her throat, she spoke just a little louder, though not so loud that it might be thought suspicious, “You’re in luck, Major, we have a supply of both rum and whiskey.” 

Once this was said, she returned to a softer tone. 

“They know of you, yes. After careful and vague queries about their availability, I mentioned you and each seemed intrigued to meet you.” 

He was right about Esther. It was possible she might be a little too shamelessly gregarious for the sort of propriety that came with such events, but Clara was certain that Esther wouldn’t mind being turned down considering most of her interest had been in, as Esther had so eloquently put it, ‘knocking boots.’ 

"Can I meet them?" Tallmadge asked about the other two, a sweet hopefulness in his eyes that reminded Clara of how she’d once been when she’d first met Silas. Matching his pleased expression, she nodded as she took the payment. 

“O’course. Just name the times and places and I can arrange the rest.”

“They know of you, yes," Clara affirmed. "After careful and vague queries about their availability, I mentioned you and each seemed intrigued to meet you.” 

Benjamin nearly laughed, flashing a smile of disbelief. Although it wasn't unusual for an officer to attract a gaggle of women -- mostly those who wished to move up in the world -- he still found it unfathomable that such an interest could be geared towards himself.

"Consider me intrigued too," he replied, a hint of shy embarrassment lancing across his cheeks. "Although I've been limping a lot lately, I suppose that could be chalked up as a 'dashing war injury.'" Here, he grinned. "Only we two will know the origin of that one."

“O’course," Clara agreed. "Just name the times and places and I can arrange the rest.”

A wave of restless nerves rolled over Benjamin at the thought of something being so real, so final, and despite the pleasant flutter in his chest, his palms grew sweaty and he discreetly wiped them against his breeches. "Uh...w-would you be there with me?" he asked, only to wince. "I-I mean! If I invited them to the upcoming gathering at Wallace House, do you think you could be there too? I find that conversation flows far more freely, should I be around those I'm already familiar." Here, he offered a weakened smile. "I could pay you? Or, if that isn't sufficient, perhaps get my friend, Anna Strong, to lend you a gown?"

"It is," Fantine agreed, gently tapping Cosette on the end of her nose with her index finger. "So we must do our best not to copy him, yes?"

Fantine chose not to comment on the Thénardiers. Fantine could see Cosette's physical state, she did not need it pointed out, least in front of Cosette; it was a conversation they could have privately at a later point.

Instead of being able to soak up the joy of their reunification, Fantine was wrapping her head around Benjamin's requests. As cruel as the Thénardiers had been, how cruel could Benjamin be? She was hardly naïve, and she had known enough men to understand how fickle they were. If she refused, would he part her and her child again? Would he take Cosette as his ward and leave Fantine with nothing but the bittersweet memory of this brief moment?

"Do forgive me if my appearance displeases you," she retorted, the sharpness in her voice even surprising her, "I can't say I've had the means nor time to worry about it."

Fantine concentrated on Cosette's face, every blink causing her to worry that this was just another feverish hallucination.

"But if you are paying, then fine. I will go." Fantine could taste the bitterness on her tongue. Her pimp and clients may be unpleasant, cruel and uncaring, but at least they could not leverage her daughter against her. "You will care for Cosette in the mean time?" Seeing them holding hands—the doll he had purchased for her—had established the way in which Cosette already trusted this man.

Fantine's tongue-lashing wasn't a surprise, per se, and yet Benjamin still found himself folding beneath the sharp slice of her admonishment. Curling his hands at his sides, he rolled his lips inward and glanced between mother and daughter.

"I suppose I deserve that," he replied. "Your concerns are not my own, and I didn't mean to suggest that they should be...but we do need to be on the same page, if you want my protection. I can only succeed if we work together."

Fantine grew more acquiescent, but her tone wasn't any less stiff as she agreed to his terms.

"I'm paying, yes," Benjamin was quick to reassure. "We can buy whatever you'd like...and something for Cosette too, should she fancy it." Smiling over at the young girl, who gawped back at him with sparkly-eyed intrigue, he only looked up again at Fantine's query.

Startled, he straightened his stance. He knew this was Cosette's best option -- of course it was -- and yet he hadn't anticipated a disbandment so quickly.

"I can take her to the inn I'm staying at, yes," he affirmed, "but only if you think it's what's best for her." Any loving mother would know this, but Benjamin didn't want to come off as preachy nor judgmental when he had the means to afford a better life.

Placing a hand upon Cosette's head, he added, "What would you both say to a bath? And I mean, a proper one with submersion?"

*drops this here and runs* 😳

Maybe if circumstances were different, if they hadn’t met in the middle of a war and faced with the daunting but no less true fact that they could die any day, then it was possible that the pair would have taken things slower, that they’d have more time to get to know one another outside of the stroke of a pen. In a different world, there’d be time to find out such things like Ben’s inability to be slow to anger, but time was not on their side. Not until a bright white flag on the British side was hoisted in surrender. 

Ben continued his affectionate investigation of her topography, his light touch across her face tickling and compelling her to smile, catch his hand and press a kiss into his palm. 

"But enough of that," he implored. "I only want to focus on you -- on marrying you."

Who would have thought that someone like her would ever have the pleasure of becoming a wife? Certainly not her, but the idea of it made her stomach flutter and her heart race. Never mind the unfortunate reality that they would be forced to spend the advent of their marriage apart.

No matter the wretched amount of distance, they belonged to each other. It was a beautiful promise that would keep her determined. Keep her going. 

“Ogre or no, I’m looking forward to meeting ‘morning you,’” she reassured through a pleased little giggle, scrunching up her nose as he nudged her teasingly, “I’ll endure anything you can dish out, sugar. Now are you going to whisk me away to the church, or not?” 

"Will you at least allow me to fix my breeches first?” he laughed, “I've broken many rules over the past two-plus decades, but flashing people in a house of worship isn't exactly high on my to-do list... I promise I have some scruples."

Moira grinned cheekily, “So I suppose using my shift as a substitute for a wedding dress is out of the question then?” 

After sitting up, he kissed her lovingly and she briefly lost all her senses as her head spun pleasantly with delight, “You’re ridiculously good at that…” 

"I've been told I can be a bit impulsive, and normally I'd agree...but this? Well, I've never felt more positive about anything in all my life."

“Anything?” she echoed, her challenge playful as she stood up and smoothed her skirts before reaching up to fix her hair, making sure that the special blue ribbon he’d gifted her hadn’t come undone in their frantic coupling, “Do you think anyone will notice if you’re gone any longer from the party downstairs? Should we come straight back afterward, just in case?”

“Ogre or no, I’m looking forward to meeting ‘morning you,’” Moira teased, giggling as her eyes lit up akin to dazzling fireflies.

Helpless but to follow in her mirth, Benjamin mirrored her laugh, fondly nudging his nose into hers. "I think you were supposed to say 'oh no, darling, you couldn't possibly be an ogre!' Whenever we are wed, you must learn to respect and obey your husband in everything he says...even the most asinine of statements."

She wrinkled her nose at him. “I’ll endure anything you can dish out, sugar. Now are you going to whisk me away to the church, or not?” 

"That, I can assuredly obey," he agreed, grinning, "though I'm not so sure I can abide by the 'shift as a wedding dress' statement. My father would turn apoplectic."

His father...

Briefly, Benjamin's stomach curdled with guilt -- why had he never thought to write him about Moira? -- but not wishing to douse their good fortune, he cupped her face and drew her mouth back over his, warm and passionate, before she withdrew again with a dazed little smile on her face.

“You’re ridiculously good at that…” 

Benjamin grinned, shyly self-conscious. "I've always been told I'm a bit of an over-achiever."

While she rose on unsteady legs, he slowly followed suit, careful to tuck himself back inside his breeches while they both tended to their disarrayed clothing.

“Do you think anyone will notice if you’re gone any longer from the party downstairs?" Moira asked. "Should we come straight back afterward, just in case?”

"Do you have to be such a spoilsport?" Benjamin teased. Expression sobering, he lost a hint of his smile as he nodded. "I doubt they'll truly notice, given my more standoffish tendencies, but we shouldn't stay away for long. His Excellency might be wondering where I am."

It was doubtful, but wholly possible; even parties of good cheer could be interrupted when it came to war.

“You and Selah may have been friends, but you are nothing alike!” she assured him with a rueful laugh, the tear streaks stinging her reddened cheeks, “He worked hard, from the ground up, for everything he had! He didn’t have the luxury of parents to provide him with love, support, or guidance, as you did!” 

It was true. Selah had been dealt an awful hand in his lifetime, growing up in a poor and abusive household, making his fortune through blood, sweat, and tears; then earning the approval of Anna’s upper class parents to take her hand in marriage. Selah had been her rock and inspiration. His person was what she aspired to reflect – and the world was all the poorer for his loss.  

“What’s worse, you’re under the impression I’d make advances on you with such little to no consideration. You must think very little of my character!” 

"I don't know," Benjamin replied rawly, "This war has changed me, Anna...it's changed everyone I love, so who's to say it hasn't changed you, as well? Sometimes, we do foolish things for a bit of comfort. And let's be honest here..." 

Anna tilted her head, her brow knitted with scrutiny as he continued through a humorless laugh of his own. 

“You've never once looked at me prior to this moment. I represent the life before -- your life with Selah -- but I can't bring him back. Not even if you close your eyes and pretend."

Fists furling and unfurling, she had to resist the urge to slap him again. God above, she was so angry that steam was practically pluming from her ears. 

“If you truly think that I made such a choice on a whim, Ben, then your absence has made you awfully softheaded," she seethed.

Damn him for making her talk about this, for elaborating on the most complicated subject when her heart was still fresh with grief – and for making things more intricate during a time of terrible uncertainty. 

With a deep breath, she forced her tone to soften, if only a little.

“I love you. I’ve always loved you in our way, but does it have to mean more than that for us to take advantage of the time we’re given in this God forsaken world?”

“You and Selah may have been friends, but you are nothing alike!” Anna snapped, shaking along with her welling tears. “He worked hard, from the ground up, for everything he had!"

Benjamin scoffed. "Are you saying I haven't worked hard?" he hissed. "Anna, I don't just sit idly by sucking upon the teat of my inheritance! I went out and I worked. I attended to school. I'm serving my country too, in case you were wholly unaware!"

Anna remained immovable. "He didn’t have the luxury of parents to provide him with love, support, or guidance, as you did!” 

Benjamin flinched at that, unable to argue with such a tragic truth. Although he lost his mother young, he at least had her in all her loving kindness, and his father was forever supportive. Even when cross, Nathaniel Tallmadge was nothing short of a guiding light.

He moved to speak, but she cut him off: “What’s worse, you’re under the impression I’d make advances on you with such little to no consideration. You must think very little of my character!” 

"You know that's not true," Benjamin volleyed, his tone softer this time. "I am just...I'm flummoxed. We've barely written one another, and if it weren't for Abe, I doubt we would've been in contact much at all. What am I supposed to think? Our actions do not belong to people who are drawn to one another."

Anna gave a humorless laugh. “I love you. I’ve always loved you in our way, but does it have to mean more than that for us to take advantage of the time we’re given in this God forsaken world?”

Our way... Yes, Benjamin knew that of the three of his friends, it was no secret that they'd been the least close. He loved Anna, but he'd spent a good portion of his youth jealous of her, as well, resenting the way she came along and stole the attention of his best and dearest friend. With the prospect of girls and all that entailed, Abraham was no longer as interested in boyish pursuits. It was Anna he went on and on about, and Anna who he ignored everyone for, and despite the sour irritation that always came during his boyhood at such rebuffs, Benjamin found himself taking her into his arms and tucking her head beneath his chin, soft and protective.

"You're right," he whispered. Pressing his lips to her temple, he squeezed her in close. "I guess I only feel reluctance because you matter to me...I don't want to lose you, Anna."

Don't make me lose you. I've already lost far, far too much...