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tallmadgeandtea · 2 years

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On Fire, Trying Not To Show It

For today’s Turn Week prompt, no one will be surprised when I say my favorite male character is Benjamin Tallmadge. For all the reasons why I love Benjamin, you only need to see my blog, but anyways. I decided to write a scene that was also set after one of my favorite significant events, the Battle of Germantown. Benjamin is exhausted and sad- just the way I like him. This fic is set in the SS&SP timeline but takes place before Benjamin meets Elizabeth. I hope you enjoy!

Scene under the cut!

The battle was lost.

The battle was lost, and he was trying not to think about it. He was trying not to think about the fact that at the beginning, they were winning- in the early October dawn, the men and officers whispered about how similar it was to Trenton and Princeton, marching late into the night and early in the morning. They switched sides- finally, they were prepared while the British were not. It had worked once, why wouldn’t it work again? He wasn’t at either battle, but he felt the excitement, the anticipation in the air, exhilarating and infectious, like a disease spreading through camp. He was tired, but it washed away when he heard the first roar of gunfire, the slashing of swords, the hooves beating underneath him. He dove straight into it- like when he was younger, swimming in the sound, going further than his friends, fighting against the water, dragging himself under until he couldn’t breathe, until he had to give up control- another challenge. When he was home, everything was a challenge. He was outgrowing the town, but he couldn’t outgrow the water. He could only go deeper. Deeper until he was so far out he didn’t hear anyone calling his name. Only Caleb caught up with him, but Benjamin was still the faster swimmer.

The battle was lost.

The battle was lost, and he didn’t understand it. He didn’t understand it, because at first, they were winning. They’d driven the first set of the enemy back into the town to meet the rest of their force. God, they were winning, and they needed it. Brandywine followed them, a demonic, cruel shadow, and this was their chance to get rid of it. No more bodies laid along the creek, scattered across the farmfields. No British in Philadelphia- that was the unspoken goal, that was what they all wished for and wanted. It was what General Washington wanted, and Benjamin was going to help get it for him. Why do you want to impress him so much? He asked himself. Why do you need to prove yourself to him? Constantly, incessantly.

He couldn’t answer.

He didn’t know when he’d be able to.

The battle was lost.

Fog. Fog, for God’s sake. It settled over the town, heavy in the air like the cannon smoke. It was hard enough to see through gunfire, but it dissipated, and a good soldier could try his best to hit his marks. Fog, on the other hand, and the rain that followed, did not leave unless it wanted to. It was a stab from a bayonet, destroying their bleeding strategy. He watched as confusion set in, quick and lethal. Men started to run in every direction, and he tried his best to catch up with them, to do something. Something besides giving in to the anxiety, the frustration, the anger. He could still hear Washington agreeing to Knox’s plan, could still hear the first volley of cannons, the harsh beating against the stone walls. It all happened so quickly. He could still hear Washington- “Tallmadge! Stop the retreat!”

And he could still hear the men underneath his squadron’s line, desperate and dangerous, crawling underneath the horses. Screams and curses and even more shots. Was he dreaming? Was this another nightmare? An anxious trick?

If there is one thing you should have learned by now, it’s that plans always go awry.

The battle was lost.

It had ended hours ago, but it felt like it had only been thirty minutes since he reached Headquarters, dismounted from his sweating horse and walked into the farmhouse. He was greeted by silence- after Brandywine, Headquarters had been loud, Washington’s voice echoing through every room in the small house, but the uneasiness in the air was louder.

He found his general in the makeshift office, surrounded by the aides, Hamilton, Harrison, Meade, and Tilghman- they always looked at him when he walked into the room, and he hated it. He was still new to them, still unfamiliar- he wished he couldn’t see it, wish he couldn’t tell. But he saw everything, he thought of everything- another challenge he couldn’t stop himself from taking. He didn’t say anything to them unless it was necessary. It was the same on the other side.

“I’m here if you need me, sir.” He said.

Washington was sitting at the desk. He was looking at a piece of paper. An unfinished letter.

“Thank you for assisting in the retreat, Major Tallmadge.”

“You’re welcome, sir-”

“Even if it was unsuccessful.”

God, what did he say to that?

He nodded and left the room.

It was getting dark, now, the fog and the rain finally disappearing. He leaned against the wall of a different stone house- the only one they managed to keep that day, out of the town. A line of trees stood behind a barren field, their autumn colors dulled by dusk, rusty reds and orange contrasting against the deep green of the grass and the hills surrounding him on all sides. Washington had picked the house because it was on high ground- you could see the outline of Philadelphia from the windows. But all Benjamin saw was the hills, so different from New York- where the hills led to the water, the rivers and lakes and the sound. In Pennsylvania, the hills led to meadows and plains, tall grass and wheat and flax and whatever else the farmers grew. The hills were a reminder of how far he was from everything he knew. He was so tired of looking at them.

He closed his eyes, thought of the Hudson River and the Long Island Sound. Sometimes, right now, all he wanted to do was swim. Take off his uniform, his swords, the reminders of war, and go as far as he could. Swim until he was so tired he couldn’t breathe, until all he had in him was laying on the shore, feeling his chest rise, the sand underneath him and the sky above him. Water was so calming. Did they know what they were missing here?

All he wanted was a respite.

Selfish, needy, greedy.

You can’t have it.

I know, he said to himself, not listening.

The battle was lost, and he was tired.

He didn’t care if anyone saw him collapsing onto the grass, sliding down the wall until he landed with his knees in front of him, until his head was hanging in his hands. The stone was cool against the back of his neck, still damp from the fog. He inhaled a deep breath, then another.

How long could he stay out here? An hour? A night?

Until this damned campaign was over?

Until the war was-

Don’t even think about it.

He didn’t care if it was going to rain- he’d catch his death if it did, a repeat of his fall into the Delaware. Would Caleb come and find him?

Did he want anyone to?

He wanted a respite, and a plan, and a way to make things better, a solution for Washington and for- for the intelligence that could only go so far, that couldn’t walk over the hills of Pennsylvania.

Was that another failure?

How many more losses could there be?

His throat was heavy, but he didn’t know if he was holding back a sob or a scream.

“Major Tallmadge?”

He turned.

Captain Tilghman was standing in the doorway, yellow light highlighting him, basking behind him in the house. Benjamin heard hushed conversation emanating from the dining room. He didn’t want to know what they were talking about. “Why don’t you come inside and join us for dinner?”

For some reason, Tilghman had been trying to reach out to him for reasons he didn’t understand. You’re not a permanent fixture. You’re not in the inner circle. What does he want with you?

All of the sudden, he felt sick. God, when was the last time he ate? His stomach turned, and he couldn’t remember the meal.

“Come on,” Tilghman beckoned with his hand, a small smile on his face, “you can have Laurens’ spot.”

“Will he be alright?” Benjamin asked.

“So he says.” He tried again, “Come inside, Ben.”

He unbent his knees, sprawled his legs. He wanted to lay down. “I’ll take whatever’s left.”

Tilghman sighed.

“Can’t take whatever’s left when we’re already eating it, Tallmadge.”

God, he hadn’t even thought about what else they were losing everyday- supplies Meat, rum, and grain were becoming harder to find. The stores were running out, the evidence showing on the men’s morning meals and plates at dinner. Rumors about the quartermaster followed along with Brandywine’s shadow. Two things that seemed helpless. Hopeless.

Maybe that was why he couldn’t eat- he didn’t know if there’d be a next meal.

He didn’t know so many things, and he thought he did.

That was why you left home.

That was why you joined this war.

All he knew was what he believed in, and maybe they weren’t going to get it.

“Benjamin?” Tilghman stepped down into the grass, holding out his hand like Benjamin was fragile and someone he cared about- Tilghman was older than him, wasn’t he? “Are you hurt? If you need my help-”

“No,” he said, but he didn’t force himself to stand, like he should’ve. “No, I’m fine, Captain.”

“We gave them a good fight today, Major.” He believed it, didn’t he?

“Is that what His Excellency says?”

“Come inside and see for yourself.”

And face Washington? With no idea? With nothing to give him?

Falling short and failing the challenge?

He couldn’t do it.

He just wanted to sit out here, figure out what he needed.

Tilghman waited another moment before going back to the step, going inside. “I’ll try to save you a piece of meat or bread.”

Benjamin looked at the country road.

If he left now, could he find something?

Find what he needed?