Work Text:
The camp was loud and bright, despite the late hour. Work always needed to be done or else it would all fall into a state of disrepair, and considering what the Continental Army was up against, there was no way they could afford being lazy. Ben looked up from the stack of reports on his desk and rubbed a hand over his face. It had been a long day, so much to do, so little time.
There seemed to always be some new threat arising from the Redcoats, Robert Rogers, that snake Simcoe. No matter what he did his precious Culper ring, and the lives of his friends, he sternly reminded himself, was almost never on solid footing. At any moment, it could fall apart.
Ben shivered briefly and took a swig of whatever was in his mug. He made a face at the taste of watery ale and swallowed it bitterly. There was important work to be done, no one could afford to be lenient. Turning back to his papers, Ben yawned widely and popped his back before hunching back down. Soon he was lulled into an almost meditative state by the sound of his pen scratching on the parchment. At least this way he didn't feel the cold as much, even if it did mean in the event of an attack he could be a little slower in response. He paused in his writing, trying not to remember the last time he didn't move quick enough. A cold weight settled in his stomach and he shuddered thinking about the blood on his hands.
The tent flapped open and he was startled from his musings by both the sudden noise, and the cold gust of wind.
"Benny boy!" Caleb greeted, smiling widely at him as he put down his food and drink. "Burning the midnight oil are we?"
Ben took in his appearance, noting the mud splattered boots and slightly wild look to his hair. "Yes, I need to finish these reports for Washington. What happened to you?"
Caleb flopped down on the bed and groaned as he took his weight off his feet. “Ran into some nasty fellows riding back from getting that letter from old Georgie.” He paused and turned towards Ben before continuing in a more somber tone. “I was sorry to hear about Sackett, Benny. He was a good man and a good teacher.”
Ben only grunted in reply. Caleb sighed and started toeing off his boots, kicking them in random directions. At a pointed look from Ben, he heaved another sigh and lined them up neatly at the foot of his bed. Caleb mock bowed before saying, “Anything else, your majesty?”
“I'm going to be working for a couple more hours, so I need to keep my lamp on. I sincerely hope it doesn't disrupt your attempts to sleep,” Ben said passively, flipping the page of his report. Caleb rolled his eyes and laid back down on the rickety mattress.
“Are you sure you don't want to join me?” He pat the bed beside him. “Finest lodgings in all of Valley Forge right here.” Ben shook his head.
“I really do have work to do, Caleb.” He tried to ignore the other man, but he could see his concerned expression out of the corner of his eye. Caleb scrutinized him just long enough for Ben to begin to feel slightly uncomfortable, before suddenly shrugging and looking away.
“Fine, fine, suit yourself. I'll just be here, getting nice and comfortable under these warm, scratchy blankets. They really are very irritating aren't they. Smell bad too. At least I'm not sitting at a desk, writing paper after paper, and letter after letter…” He trailed off, looking hopefully at Ben.
“Good night, Caleb,” Ben said with fond exasperation. He heard Caleb give a small ‘huff’ and then the cream of the bed as he laid down.
“‘Night Tallboy,” he said quietly, rolling up tightly in the blankets.
Ben allowed himself a soft smile before returning to his papers. Time flew as he scratched out reports about enemy movement, information from Culper and other scouts, and correspondence between the generals of the Continentals. The oil was burning low and the tent was dim and quiet by the time he reached the last paper. He sucked in a breath and steeled himself before beginning to write.
‘To whom it may concern, Mr. Nathaniel Sackett died in the line of duty December 13, 1777. We offer our deepest ‘
His hand jerked, splattering ink across the page and ruining the letter. He would have to start over he knew, Sackett's family deserved to know. Deserved closure. He had been a good man who was cut down in his prime, all because he couldn't convince Washington about who the spy was. A burst of anger at the general bubbled up in him and he gripped the quill hard enough that it broke. He took a shuddering breath and leaned back in the hard wooden chair, trying to calm down. It was no use getting angry over what had happened, it wouldn't bring Sackett back.
The sounds of the camp washed over him as he closed his eyes. The whir of insects in the trees, the faint crackle of a fire, and the even fainter sound of laughter and chatter among the men. A sense of despair washed over him suddenly. What was the point of it all? He couldn't even save one man, a civilian (a friend) in the heart of their camp. How could he possibly hope to protect Abe and Anna in Setauket, which seemed impossibly far away, or the men under his command? Once already he'd failed at that. The memory of Robert Rogers' ambush still left a bitter taste in his mouth and he repressed a shiver at the thought of his dragoons dead in that clearing.
What could he do to make sure the Culper ring didn't fall to the same fate? A wave of nausea overcame him as he saw his friends swinging from the gallows in his mind's eye. He gave a quiet groan and put his head in his hands. Caleb shifted behind him, sitting up and blinking blearily.
"Tallboy?" he asked quietly, "What's going on? What time is it?"
Ben made a noncommittal noise and waved his hand vaguely. "It's late, Caleb. Go back to bed." He needed complete quiet in order to finish writing the letter to Sackett's family, if someone talked to him he feared he would break down. Again, his mind returned to the issue at hand. How could he tell Sackett's family about his death when it could easily have been prevented? Would he be able to take their hatred and despair because of his failure? His thoughts spiraled and his breaths came faster and faster thinking about it. Who was he to tell these people that someone they loved was dead, and that it was his own fault? The memory of the ambush rose once again in his mind and he squashed it down viciously.
A hand touched his shoulder and he jumped, turning around to see Caleb looking at him worriedly.
"Hey, Ben, what's wrong?" he asked, sitting in a chair across from Ben.
Ben gave a helpless shrug and said, "I'm writing to Sackett's family. Only I don't know what to say."
Caleb gave him a sad smile. "You tell 'em he was a hero, yeah? He died doing his job and that he was a brave man and a good friend."
"But," Ben made a strange noise in the back of his throat. "It was my fault Caleb don't you see? If I had been better and convinced Washington he would still be alive."
"Ben, you can't think that. It wasn't your fault, none of this was. You tried your best-"
Ben stood abruptly and cut him off. "My best got him dead, Caleb! Maybe next time it won't be him! What if it's Abe or Anna or, or what if it's you?" His voice cracked towards the end and he took a shuddering breath. "I couldn't bear it, Caleb, if you died."
Caleb took his hands. "That's not going to happen, Tallboy. Look, what happened with Sackett was tragic and I mourn his loss but he would have wanted us to keep going. He cared about this ring more than anything, and he would have smacked you on the head to hear you talk like this. Come to bed, Ben," he finished softly.
He slowly pulled Ben up from the chair and towards the bed.
"Wait, Caleb. The report- I have to finish-"
"Hush I know, you can do it after you sleep. You look like shit Benny boy." Ben grinned ruefully and Caleb took it as a victory, however small. "Now come on, off with your shoes." Ben slid off his boots, coat, and over shirt, leaving him in just his trousers and a simple cloth shirt. He started to head towards his cot, but Caleb shook his head and pulled him back towards his. Ben looked up quickly.
"Are you sure this is okay?" he asked nervously.
"No one's going to bother us, and besides, it might be nice to have someone next to you tonight." Ben's heart clenched suddenly and he was overwhelmed with gratefulness at the thought of knowing Caleb. He slid into bed next to him and rolled over so they were facing each other.
"Thank you, Caleb. Really. It means a lot."
Caleb grinned tiredly. "Any time, Tallboy. Now get some shut-eye. You deserve it." Ben started to respond but his eyes drifted closed, warm in the arms of someone he loved and, for the time being, safe from everything else.