#How many times have I drawn Ben Tallmadge…

[timbit-robin-art]

What if uhhhh, Gotham but Amrev.

[honorhearted]

The more Mary spoke, the more Ben realized that for far too long, he'd lacked a female presence in his life. Although Susannah Tallmadge had been a wonderful mother -- pure and soft and kind and loving -- the memories she'd imprinted upon his heart faded with each passing day, lingering like the strains of a once beloved melody. He could recall the basic sound and sensation, yet the exact tune and rhyme seemed to elude him.

And Mary...she brought a much-needed feminine touch, both in terms of perspective and support. He hadn't realized just how much he'd needed that until she sat alongside him that evening, shoulder-to-shoulder with their hands entwined. Had this been any other moment, Ben might have felt ashamed, untoward leaning upon Mary in this way, but somehow, within the dull glow of lamplight and the symphony of crickets serenading them in the dark, it almost seemed acceptable -- welcome, in fact -- and a shyness overcame his mien as he cradled her hand between his palms.

"I must confess, I hadn't considered all the preparation," he murmured. "My father and I would host people, naturally, but it's been quite a long time... For whatever reason, we tended to go visit friends and family, but never the opposite -- not after Mother died -- so it's been ages since I've had to prepare a home for company."

“Once we return to Setauket, we will be able to resume something that resembles a settled life. That will be the time to seriously discuss our plans and expectations for the future. Until then, it is futile to imagine and plot further than the next few days."

Ben swallowed, his mouth suddenly feeling much, much too dry. Mary kept using words like "we" and "our"; did she truly mean it? Did she want to keep him in her life -- in Thomas' life -- after the war?

"The mundane allows a sense of domesticity," he agreed, flushing beneath her gaze. "I-I mean...ah...it's much easier to grasp what you want from life when everything is plain and normal. What was once unclear is suddenly no longer."

"A good many things might change before the war is over. Until that blessed day comes, trying to plan for the future will be as foolhardy as the man who decided to build his house on the sand.���

Many things already had changed, she was right. Where Ben once found himself scornful and even resentful of Mary Woodhull, he now was wholly dependent upon her in ways he'd never before thought possible.

“I, for one, have always striven to emulate the man who built his home on the reliable comfort of the rock, rather than the man who chose the tenuous and unpredictable sand for his home.”

Ben felt painfully warm as he returned her gaze, and drawing a sharp breath, he darted his attentions in between her eyes and his lap, unsettled as he ventured, "I'll admit I've spent so much time planning for this Cause that I haven't done much preparing for the future...in any regard. And if I'm being honest, I feel it's tempting fate to convince myself that I even have a future...but I know what I want. Perhaps I always have."

Shifting with discomfort, Ben lifted his eyes again and squeezed Mary's hand. He could see now why she'd been so displeased by his earlier suggestion. Were she and Thomas to stay with Nathaniel and himself, no matter how deeply the Tallmadge-Woodhull love had been in the past, much gossip and speculation could be drawn from the visit.

"I...I am afraid to speak it into existence," Ben hesitantly allowed, already feeling dizzy from alluding to as much. "In my experience, whatever I want -- whatever I love -- is ultimately taken away from me. Because of this, I won't feel safe speaking plainly until the British are waving a white flag of surrender..." He mirrored Mary's tight smile. "In matters of the heart, I suppose I am a coward. I can't bear to lose much more..."

And if his assumptions did lead to them parting ways, it would be too much -- far, far too much to lose Mary and Thomas on top of everything else he'd sacrificed in this war.

@anoseforrottenapples

“You truly think so? Perhaps you should sit in on my meetings with Washington, if only to show that someone out there deems my actions worthy of note.” Mary laughed, shaking her head slightly. “No thank you, Benjamin. You know I make a rule to steer clear of the politics of the camp as much as possible. I would rather not know what is said in your meetings.” Her words were very much the truth. While her close confidence with Benjamin, along with Anna and Caleb, had brought her deeper into the secret operations of the war than some people in the camp, she had no interest in learning more than she had too. The camp was filled with spies hungry for any scraps of information. The less they thought she knew, the less they were going to pester her for tidbits. She glanced down as Benjamin kept holding her hand, but she neither commented on it nor tried to draw away. It was comforting in its own way, the way his thumb kept rubbing gently against her knuckles. Mary wondered if the action grounded the Major, or helped him think more clearly. Perhaps that was why he had chosen to keep holding on. If that was the case, she welcomed it. Her dearest wish was to return to her true calling of maintaining a comfortable home for a family, an island of serenity in the tumult of the world. If she could give Benjamin a piece of that now… well… then for a few moments, her desire would be realized. Besides, with the twist this conversation kept taking, they both needed something to ground them a bit while they were navigating these topics. Benjamin had his course already set in his mind, and Mary knew instinctively that only through swift, firm action on her part would she be able to pull this situation up into something that would be welcomed by the other people involved. Her suggestion that Benjamin should at least write to his father first is well-received by the man. She nodded along at the flurry of words coming from the man, giving his hand a slight, supportive squeeze as he tried to articulate his thoughts. He seemed to be talking in circles more than he realized he was, but he was agreeing with her plan at any rate.

“I know he would never turn us away, nor would you,” She soothed, “But if he is only preparing for you to return home, and he is not warned that you will be bringing guests, it could create a serious dilemma regarding the domestic situation in his house. One does need to prepare for guests after all. Rooms need to be aired; food needs to be purchased. A little forewarning is always a welcome gesture, no matter how hospitable the host is.” “I have no doubt that he’ll say yes, and then…w-well…perhaps while back in Setauket, we’ll both be able to see more clearly in regards to our future. Here in camp, it’s rather difficult to think beyond today and tomorrow.” Mary nodded, her pulse ticking up slightly. Maybe that was the clue she was waiting for, a suggestion that he was, in fact, thinking about some kind of future arrangement between them. “I agree. Until the war is over, there are far too many variables to be considered. Once we return to Setauket, we will be able to resume something that resembles a settled life. That will be the time to seriously discuss our plans and expectations for the future. Until then, it is futile to imagine and plot further than the next few days. A good many things might change before the war is over. Until that blessed day comes, trying to plan for the future will be as foolhardy as the man who decided to build his house on the sand.” She allowed herself a tight smile, “I, for one, have aways striven to emulate the man who built his home on the reliable comfort of the rock, rather than the man who chose the tenuous and unpredictable sand for his home.” @honorhearted​

[annastrxng]

Bruised Souls:

@honorhearted​ continued from X​​

Anna arrived to deliver important intelligence and THIS was to be her greeting? To be treated as though she was far more insufferable than an ignorant monarch who, from his mighty throne refused to listen to the woeful complaints of his suffering constituents. Or worse, more intolerable than pestilence of Biblical proportions. 

It was rare that Anna bore a stormy temperament or any form of true animosity. Rarer still, when she allowed herself to be so easily physically provoked by a friend’s haplessly cruel words. But today, the unbidden verbal barrage from Tallmadge slices through her with the same eviscerating effectiveness of a bayonet. 

                                   “Once I’m in need of someone to sleep with an informant, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

His words linger, resonating as firmly as a silversmiths engraving in the darkest corners her mind. It is to her shame, the brunette is well aware of the unfavorable reputation she has garnered.

A white-knuckled fist cuts loose a crack to his jaw before she can prevent the reflexive response. Her tearful eyes darken. The stare that bores into him is equal measures deadened and tortured. Betrayal ignobly graces every inch of her countenance. 

Porcelain cheeks blaze a staunch shade of crimson, fury emanating and heating upwards from the depths. “Didn’t much hear you complain when my sacrifices benefited you and the others.” She grumbles, her tone heady with agony. She’d lent everything for this Cause. On sparse occasions, that included her body. Only to now have a jest, a joke made of her tainted reputation.

 The information she received by playing into the enemies affections had saved Ben, Caleb, Abraham, and perhaps, even Washington’s lives and the lives of countless others. Even still, she found herself incredibly offended as she did not bed every man who breathed in her direction as Tallmadge’s commentary implied. She was a discerning woman. While her reputation expressed otherwise, she had hardly drawn numbers to the intimacy of the bedroom. 

She cast her water logged eyes away from him as he wiped at the scarlet her jab produced. The guilt taking up residence in every corridor of her heart. She knew naught which sliced the deepest: the fact that she TRUSTED Ben with the with her efforts to play enemies like Hewlett and Simcoe into her hands or the fact that he had trodden all over that confidence. Or worse still, that he was keen to not only welcome but partake in the rumors concerning her personal affairs!

Anna barely manages to stifle a sob, forcing it on exhale to sound more like a huff of air than anything pity-worthy. Hanging her head, she confides, “perhaps, it would have been better for all if I had gone to Scotland...” Accepting that offer would have spared her considerable torment. (But it also would have made her a traitor to all she had stood for since the start of the war.) “Or maybe I should have gone to Philadelphia with Selah before his death.” She had passed up every opportunity to abandon the Cause. Maybe it was high time she started to regret her own stubborn dedications. If she had gone with Selah, maybe she would have perished too...

Did Benjamin truly believe her to be no better than the low-bred women of the holy grail? A woman of the night, tossing herself into every bed, cot, and street alley possible for the degradation of every willing soldier and business man? Did he spend his hours contemplating how many masculine hands had lifted her skirts and found shelter pressed against her form? Had she lost all of his regard in doing what she had to in order to ensure the survival of their Ring?  

Fingers that had been clutching a correspondence from the courier Austin Roe part ways, allowing it to slip downwards, nestling into what grass hadn’t been flattened under the tread of boots. Rather than dwell where she is not desired nor apparently respected, she pushed aside the canvas flap and briskly stalked outwards. 

The air cool air that was filtered into her lungs upon inhale burned. It was only when she had stalked away that she let her tired form sag against a tree. She hated crying for it was seen as a form of weakness. Yet, despite all of her efforts to contain them, the tears came hot and fast down the breadths of her cheekbones. 

[cupric-solution]

An Open Rupture (Turn Fic)

I’m really anxious about posting this but here is my first Turn: Washington’s Spies fanfic. It’s fairly self contained but it also sort of fits into a larger story idea I’ve been playing with that features Ben Tallmadge, Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens. 

This is set after the mutiny seen in S4E4 of Turn and in the immediate aftermath of Hamilton’s infamous fight with Washington on the stairs. Laurens is on his way to France at this point so he doesn’t appear but is mentioned. Tench Tilghman appears, though, as he’s been sent as an envoy of peace from Washington to Hamilton.

On his way to headquarters, Ben Tallmadge found Alexander Hamilton pacing around the perimeter of the mutineers’ makeshift burial ground. It had been more than two weeks since the execution and the first time he’d caught Hamilton on his own.

“I’ve been having nightmares,” he confessed, refusing to meet Ben’s eyes.

“That’s understandable.”

Ben reached out a hand to squeeze his friend’s shoulder but Alexander flinched away from the touch.

“I didn’t look away.”

“I know. Alex, you know you can talk to-”

“You did.” A harsh accusation of betrayal. “I felt you turn around.”

“To watch him.”

Alexander raised his head. Eyes bright, voice desperate, he asked, “Well? Did he look away?”

“Yes.”

“He disgusts me sometimes.”

Ben fought back the temptation to agree. He swallowed, wondered what he could say without his anger showing through.

He settled on, “He’s human.”

“I’ve noticed.”

Again, Alexander affixed his eyes to the ground and once more Ben reached out to him. It was the ghost of a touch, fingertips barely brushing against Alexander’s cheek and resting under his chin just long enough to tilt it up. Alex kept his head lifted but his eyes followed the retreat of Ben’s hand.

Ben kept his eyes fixed on his friend’s face and at last Alex met his gaze. From the pain Ben read in those pale blue eyes, he began to piece together a story although the details were blurred.

“Something’s happened. Between you and the General.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Unusual for you.”

This comment raised a rueful smile that lasted almost an entire second. Then Alexander spotted something over Ben’s shoulder that elicited an angry sigh.

“Sends another man to do his dirty work. As always.”

Ben turned to see Lieutenant Colonel Tilghman approaching them. Hamilton’s fellow aide looked tired and was shivering badly, despite being bundled up in a heavy cloak.

“I think you can guess why I’m here,” Tilghman said, his voice hoarse and despondent, quite the contrast from his usual joviality.

Hamilton’s response sounded rehearsed. “If he seeks an interview, I prefer to decline. Unless he orders it, in which case I won’t refuse. I am resolute in my decision and attempting to explain the reasons will only serve to drive the wedge further between us.”

“I agree. I’ll convey your wishes to him and then my duty concerning this matter will be done.”

Tilghman made to leave but was stopped in his tracks by Hamilton calling him back to them.

“Tench. I’m sorry he’s assigned you as our go between. You’ve enough real work to be getting on with.”

“I happy to play your peacekeeper and I’m not the only one. Lafayette is with him now pleading your case for a new position outside of the family. Some of us have taken your particular cause to heart. Haven’t we, Tallmadge?”

“Yes, sir,” Ben said as he straightened his posture, unsure what to add now he’d been drawn into the conversation.

“How many times do I have to say it, Tallmadge? You don’t have to ‘sir’ me, not when we’re alone. You’ve earned your rank, mine came with the position.”

“Actually mine did too. Apparently, I couldn’t be head of intelligence as a mere captain.”

“You should understand, then.” Tilghman’s tone turned teasing as he went on, “Or maybe you’re like Ham and enjoy people ‘sir’-ing you. Ham, you surely don’t go on letting Tallmadge ‘sir’ you after all these years?”

“Only in certain situations.” There was a note of laughter in Hamilton’s voice.

Ben looked at him and was relieved to receive a genuine smile from Alex, the dimples showing in his cheeks and some of his old warmth returning to his eyes. Ben returned a smile of his own.

The moment was broken by a loud sneeze from Tilghman. Hamilton rushed to his side, wrapping an arm about him and grumbling loudly about getting the poor man back inside before he froze to death. Ben noted Tilghman’s grateful expression and marvelled at how well Alexander managed to mother a man twelve years his senior.

Perhaps Ben ought to beg his help in solving the puzzle of Caleb’s current mood. He also harboured a more selfish desire to have his own foul temper soothed by a soft touch and eloquent words.

He wanted his friend back. He wanted all his friends back, wanted to see them safe and happy. He would settle for just safe, though. At this point happy seemed out of the question.

Ben had seen glimpses of the Alex he’d been sure he’d lost. Not Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton, the aide-de-camp who got more done than anyone realised. Not Ham who would fuss over his friends’ mild ailments but make light of his own brushes with death. Not even Betsey Hamilton’s darling Alexander.

His Alex, who he shared with but one other person. Another distant friend, still more distant now. Could they be content together with the sea separating them from their dear companion? Their brief reunion with their dear Laurens had only made them feel more keenly his absence.

Yet now Alex was determined to leave as well. Leave Ben alone with a quiet, broken Caleb and two women he feared would prove themselves far more capable at spy craft than he was. If Mary and Anna were men, the battle between them would surely have been over Ben’s job rather than Abe’s affection. Though those two desires needn’t be exclusive. Remembering his own petty jealously before he’d grown to trust and love Laurens, Ben wondered if that war would have been waged regardless of their sex.

His reverie was broken by someone pulling him into a hug. Ben was too startled to return it but Alex didn’t seem too offended for he stayed close after he broke the contact.

“What was that for?” Ben asked.

“I expected you to follow us inside. Instead I find you standing out here looking lost.”

“And you thought a hug would help?”

“It worked, didn’t it? I have you back with me and no longer adrift in a silent sea of thought.” Alex clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t you have business at headquarters? We’ll go in together.”

“Would you believe I was only headed up here in the hopes of running into to you? It’s been a while since we last talked.”

Alex smiled again and nodded toward Ben’s tent. “Let’s talk then.”