Burr sits in Washington's tent for hours, saying nothing--waiting, shrugging off offers of food and company. At some point Theo is pressed into his arms, to breastfeed, and what a pitiful sight they make then, mother and child weathering some kind of awful happening that has not yet solidified.
Lafayette sits beside Burr, at his small desk, and at intervals he takes a thussing Theo from Burr and makes faces at her, walks her in circles.
Burr is still sitting there when Laurens bursts in, fresh from his rounds of interrogation.
"You have to send someone after him," Burr says, stands--his first words that evening, and a eyes are on him. Washington looks pained, glancing continually at that map on his desk, and Laurens comes and pulls Burr into a hug.
"I'm sorry," he says. "He could still be fine. I'm confident he is. He's crafty, and has come through worse before," but Burr is not listening, does not want comfort, shrugs Laurens off and takes Theo from Lafayette, rounds on Washington.
"Sir--" he says, the voice of a captain. Washington still does not look up, and when he speaks his voice is low, measured. Burr will not like what he says, he is sure.
"We cannot," Washington says. "Sending a patrol now will only draw the British towards us. We do not know where he is, besides a general idea, and it is possible he has established some cover, which we will only disturb with our intervention."
A stricken noise, unable to be forced down. Betrayal, this is a betrayal, and Burr never had liked Washington. Stupid, indecisive, disastrous. Lafayette lays a hand on his shoulder but Burr pushes it away, violently, hisses.
"You're abandoning him!"
"I have full confidence in his abilities. We do not yet know that he cannot return to us. I will give him another day. And if he has not returned then, I will send a patrol."
Pointless promises. Burr doesn't wait to be dismissed.
--
"what are you doing?" Laurens asks in horror, as Burr piles his meager belongs into saddle bags.
"I'm going after him."
"You're--you can even ride a horse!"
"Watch me," Burr says, as he pushes the tent flap open,
"You can't, Burr this is ridiculous, you--" he grabs Burr, roughly, spins him around hard enough that Burr stumbles, still only half healed. "you have a child!" He hisses, and Burr's eyes narrow. Theo is wrapped against his chest, making unhappy sounds, jostled and sleepy.
"I do," he says, "and she will be coming with me. Either you come too or get out of my way."
"Washington will court martial us," Laurens says, but Burr knows he will not refuse. Not in this matter, for both of them.
"If he does he'll have no good aides left."
"You cannot even ride!" Laurens says, as Burr struggles onto his horse, wincing and biting back pained noises.
"If I could deliver a small watermelon I think I can handle a bit of riding," though truthfully he is not sure. He cannot very well lift himself from the saddle, for the ache in his joints, but resting fully down puts terrible pressure on things which are still knitting back together. Resigned, then, to a bit of bleeding. But it will be nothing like it was the day he fell from his horse, he is sure.
no subject
Lafayette sits beside Burr, at his small desk, and at intervals he takes a thussing Theo from Burr and makes faces at her, walks her in circles.
Burr is still sitting there when Laurens bursts in, fresh from his rounds of interrogation.
"You have to send someone after him," Burr says, stands--his first words that evening, and a eyes are on him. Washington looks pained, glancing continually at that map on his desk, and Laurens comes and pulls Burr into a hug.
"I'm sorry," he says. "He could still be fine. I'm confident he is. He's crafty, and has come through worse before," but Burr is not listening, does not want comfort, shrugs Laurens off and takes Theo from Lafayette, rounds on Washington.
"Sir--" he says, the voice of a captain. Washington still does not look up, and when he speaks his voice is low, measured. Burr will not like what he says, he is sure.
"We cannot," Washington says. "Sending a patrol now will only draw the British towards us. We do not know where he is, besides a general idea, and it is possible he has established some cover, which we will only disturb with our intervention."
A stricken noise, unable to be forced down. Betrayal, this is a betrayal, and Burr never had liked Washington. Stupid, indecisive, disastrous. Lafayette lays a hand on his shoulder but Burr pushes it away, violently, hisses.
"You're abandoning him!"
"I have full confidence in his abilities. We do not yet know that he cannot return to us. I will give him another day. And if he has not returned then, I will send a patrol."
Pointless promises. Burr doesn't wait to be dismissed.
--
"what are you doing?" Laurens asks in horror, as Burr piles his meager belongs into saddle bags.
"I'm going after him."
"You're--you can even ride a horse!"
"Watch me," Burr says, as he pushes the tent flap open,
"You can't, Burr this is ridiculous, you--" he grabs Burr, roughly, spins him around hard enough that Burr stumbles, still only half healed. "you have a child!" He hisses, and Burr's eyes narrow. Theo is wrapped against his chest, making unhappy sounds, jostled and sleepy.
"I do," he says, "and she will be coming with me. Either you come too or get out of my way."
"Washington will court martial us," Laurens says, but Burr knows he will not refuse. Not in this matter, for both of them.
"If he does he'll have no good aides left."
"You cannot even ride!" Laurens says, as Burr struggles onto his horse, wincing and biting back pained noises.
"If I could deliver a small watermelon I think I can handle a bit of riding," though truthfully he is not sure. He cannot very well lift himself from the saddle, for the ache in his joints, but resting fully down puts terrible pressure on things which are still knitting back together. Resigned, then, to a bit of bleeding. But it will be nothing like it was the day he fell from his horse, he is sure.