"Schuyler. Schuyler. Peggy. Peggy."

The knock on the door of her bunk wakes her from her sleep.

"Mmph? Wha'?" she manages, blinking. She can't see a damn thing.

"We need you in the engine room," her Captain, Gina Toscano, says urgently. "C'mon."

She pulls on her jumper and buckles on the holster, the action drilled into her from endless training exercises that all Independent soldiers had to do thanks to Lafayette's innovations, and climbs the rungs of the ladder until she's in the corridor of the ship. Tony takes a step back to avoid an embarrassing collision.

"All personnel to the stations. Repeat, all personnel to the stations."

She gulps. She'd known there was a risk in leaving her home, but she'd never really anticipated that her service would actually lead to her using the gun strapped to her thigh.

"Captain, what's going on?"

"We're being pursued by an Imperialist ship," Toscano says bluntly. "I need you in the engine room. We might need to go for full burn."

Peggy doesn't bother to continue the conversation, just sprints down the corridor into the engine room. Full burn would put all of the ship's resources to the limit, push L'Égalité to a place where it'd be a struggle to get to Valley Forge, the town on Hera where Washington desperately needed the supplies they were carrying. The same planet where her father was back in Albany, coordinating counterintelligence for the entire Independence Movement.

"Peggy. You up?"

The voice of the ship's pilot, Kay Baldwin, came through the speakers, loud and clear.

"This better be good, Kay," Peggy teases as she slides into the engine room. "A girl needs her beauty sleep, y'know."

"You think we're up for a crazy Ivan?" he asks, ignoring her attempt at humour. Which alone tells her how serious the situation is.

Peggy freezes, goosebumps prickling on her skin under her jumper. "They're that close?"

"Focus."

"Right, yeah," she says, clearing her throat and turning her attention back to the control panel. The lights wink at her merrily.

She checks the fuel gauge. It'll be tight, but…

If they catch us, they take the supplies as well.

"We can make it. Captain's call," she says.

"Do it," Toscano says evenly.

Peggy grabs her pliers and opens the port jack control.

"Look around, look around at how lucky we are to be alive right now!

Look around, look around, how lucky are we to be alive right now!" she sings as she works. She can't help but think of Eliza, as she cuts red and blue cord after red and blue cord. The way her hands would fly over the piano in their father's house, the one that he'd built for them. The way her and Angelica's voices would meld in the most exquisite harmonies. Peggy was alright, but Eliza and Angelica, they were euphonious. No other word could describe the beauty of their voices.

"Peggy. Status?"

"Hydraulics are cut," she says, "I'm heading for the press regulator now."

The overhead levers would need to be pulled down, but only at the time when Kay specified.

"Ready for the Ivan on your mark," Peggy says, her hand settling on the blue lever. She has to go onto her toes to reach it.

An agonizing silence throughout the ship.

"At will, Kay," the Captain says.

How is she so calm? Peggy wonders. Her heart feels like it's going to leap out of her chest.

"Everybody, hold onto something," Kay says. "Now."

She yanks down with all her strength, and the ship explodes under her feet, floor turning gold and lighting up, accelerating faster, faster, faster, until–

Deceleration, as sudden as the acceleration was.

"Good job," she mumbles. "Good job, Égal." She takes a deeper breath, recovering from the adrenaline rush. "That's why they call it a crazy Ivan, huh?" she asks.

Kay laughs, humour restored. "Miss Peggy, that is why they call it a crazy Ivan."

"Good job, everybody. Looks like we've left them in the dust. Return to your normal schedule," Toscano says, but Peggy can hear the smile in her voice.

Still, Peggy knows damn well she's not going to be able to sleep after that.

I still need to finish that letter to Angelica.

Angelica,

I hope you're in good spirits and in good health as you read this. We're soon to arrive in Hera, but we must have attracted notice, because we were pursued by an Imperialist ship at about three clicks after we passed Mars. We ended up pulling a crazy Ivan to evade them. God bless our pilot. And, of course, our engineer.

The ship lit up from the inside out. Now I really get why they call it a Firefly.

Yes, of course I'll update you on the conditions in Valley Forge. Assuming Eliza hasn't done so already, and you aren't receiving reports. Honestly, Angelica, you're on the General's staff. I'd think you'd be the first to know how things are going. Certainly before a mere mechanical engineer.

Everyone aboard is well, and still high from the adrenaline rush. We're a bit of a bunch of misfits: a mechanic with no training whatsoever except for her Daddy's old lessons; a crazy flier who used to pilot a brothel; and the Captain – well, I'm sure she's got her own story. My bet is that it's a lost family. There are lots of women like that in Hera now, after all, with haunted eyes and smiles that are worn purely out of politeness. It's weird that manners are the last thing to go, for some of us. Still, for the Movement, it's all hands on deck. What was it that Reverend Morton used to say? "If you have the chance to give water to a dying man, you do not question whether your hands are too rough or too bloodied to help." The old man had a point.

I was worried about how I'd go, being off-world for so long. I've been in and out of ships since I was a toddler, yes, but never as part of the crew, always with Eliza and Papa and sometimes you, Angelica, when you weren't too busy with your philosophy lessons. Still, I find that I'm settling in well. The pilot and I have struck up a friendship, of sorts, the Captain has nerves of steel and is always very calm, and the other girls – six of us, all told, guarding the supplies – are friendly enough. The Persephonian girls are very good with their guns, and in hand-to-hand combat, and insist on teaching me. It's a small duty, which makes me pray very earnestly that our ship is never boarded, or, God forbid, captured.

On the whole, though, I'm relieved that I volunteered as a mechanic. I'm certainly better at it than I am at being a debutante. I'll leave playing at Charm and Beauty to you and Eliza.

I think of you all the time, Angie. Stay well, stay safe, and knock 'em dead.

Love,

Peggy

They dock at Valley Forge. Peggy wraps up warm. She knows the winter well, and prepares accordingly. Boots, with two socks underneath. Her warmest pair of pants. Long-sleeved shirt, jumper, and parka over the top. Plus a scarf and gloves.

She looks in the little compact Angelica gave her. Her face is mostly covered by the scarf, except for the bridge of her nose and her eyes peeking out, dark brown irises that are a little bloodshot from the late night.

Well, can't be helped, she thinks, before she shakes her head in amusement at her own vanity. It's a war, nincompoopa, she can almost hear her uncle saying. She climbs up the rungs of the ladder to the deck, where the other girls are already stacking the crates onto the tractor, which will drive the goods to the quartermaster.

Venus, one of the Persephonian girls, titters at the sight of her.

"Rita! Are you in there somewhere?"

Because Peggy was apparently too difficult to pronounce if you were from Persephone.

She yanks the scarf down a little further, enough to stick her tongue out at Venus, and say, "Laugh it up, Venus. At least I won't freeze."

Venus' sister Minerva laughs easily, as Peggy joins her to lift the next crate. "Marguerite has learned to bite!"

"I had a good teacher," Peggy shoots back, as they settle the crate onto its stack. The rest of the crates are stacked in short order, and she takes a moment to look at it. It's seems like such a small thing, but…

Twenty ingots, stacked on top of each other in six layers. 120 ingots per box. Each ingot enough to feed a ten-man squad of soldiers for two weeks. Six boxes, all told. The supplies that General Washington and his soldiers needed so badly. There was another ship, surely; the Persephonian ambassadors wouldn't be willing to just let their supplies go all in one ship. What if it had gotten boarded?

Angelica would never be so careless.

She shakes her head. Not important.

"Roll call!" the Captain calls, as she goes through the crew. They form a single rank, as she walks past them, one by one, coming to Peggy at the end. When all of them are checked off, she smiles.

"Good work," she says. "The importance of what we've done can't be understated. Yeah, some people will call you REMFs. Don't believe 'em. An Army can't keep its balance without its tail. Logistics, supplies, all of these things are crucial. Venus, Persephone, Kay, you and I are going to stay here as a skeleton guard. We don't anticipate an attack. The rest of you are granted three days of planetside leave. Report back here at 0600, on the 9th. Got it?"

They nod. They're still using the Gregorian calendar; it's the standard one used throughout Hera.

"Schuyler," the Captain looks at her, as she stands beside her. "You know the encampment the best here, except for me. You and I are going to take the provisions to the quartermaster and sign off there."

She salutes. "Yes, Captain."

The Captain smirks. "At ease, grease monkey."

Peggy winces. "That bad?"

The Captain pats her on the shoulder. "You're not drilled as a soldier. I don't expect you to throw a proper salute. So long as you know how to fix my engine, throw a punch, and shoot a gun."

Peggy grins, as she climbs onto the tractor. The ship's landing door winds down into the snow, and she flicks the key into the ignition. "Lessgo."

The encampment isn't as bad as it had sounded, she thinks. Yes, the men desperately need food, and there are lots of hungry eyes following them. There's illness; she thinks of the immunization supplements in the ingots, and winces.

"Let's hope they're not too late," she mumbles.

The Captain squeezes her shoulder. "Remember why you're doing this."

She takes a deep breath and nods, turning right into the command area of the encampment. My sisters. My home.

Although admittedly, that wasn't the only reason she'd packed up and left home, responding to her sister's advice that there was need for mechanics at the war-front. And clever, cunning, sweet Eliza had known it too. After Fleury's fuckboy antics, she'd needed to get away; needed to be useful beyond just helping her father manage things at home.

With a start, she realises that this is the first time she's thought of Fleury in ages.

"You alright, Schuyler?"

"I'm fine, Captain," she says with a smile. "Straight to the quartermaster."

It's another left, she's pretty sure, and then a r– aha, there it is. The distinctive green Q stitched into the brown cloth curtain of the cabin.

She flicks the key in the ignition and pulls up, jumping foot-first into the snow. It's still cold; not quite freezing, but not much above it either, cold enough that she's regretting not putting the beanie on as well. There was a reason she'd always called Angelica crazy for liking winter best of all.

"And you're sure that the shipment is coming in today, Laf?"

Ah, there he is. No wonder Eliza talked about his attempts at being a panopticon. What was a military strategy aide doing overseeing a shipment of supplies in person? It made no sense unless you knew Alexander Hamilton himself, who would leave nothing to chance if he had his way.

"I have the communiqué from Rochambeau right here, Alexander," someone else responds, presumably the mysterious Laf. It sounds more like 'ear', a slight discomfort with the 'h' sound that leads to the words being elided. "Would you please calm down? Monsieur Reynolds is perfectly capable–"

"I'm overseeing this–"

Alright, best cut this off, Peggy decides, knocking on the door. Once, twice.

"No, I'll get it, I'm closest, Monsieur–"

The door opens.

"Yes?"

"Hi. We brought supplies?" Peggy says with a smile, as she looks up and – oh. "Good to see you again, Major-General Lafayette."

His eyebrows bounce up. "Have we met?"

She sticks out a gloved hand. "Private Peggy Schuyler, engineer for HMS Égalité. You stayed with my father last year. We come bearing food supplies from Persephone?"

A brilliant grin spreads across his face, and fuck, she'd forgotten how handsome he was, especially when he smiled, even with a face much leaner from rationed food.

"Private Schuyler, you are most welcome," he says, grabbing his coat. "Come, let's get them inside. Alexandre! Get your ass out here!"

She chuckles at the look an Alex's face. "Hi, Alex."

He gapes, recognising her instantly even under all of her layers. "You didn't say you were assigned to the supply crew."

She smirks. "You didn't ask."

After the supplies are stowed inside, their names are signed off against the quartermaster's book and Hamilton's book – oh, Alex, she thinks, shaking her head fondly – the marquis rubs his hands together gleefully.

"Hamilton, viens. We should go tell the general. And you should come too, Captain Toscano, Private Schuyler."

Go to General Washington? She's never met the General before. Generals, yes. General Washington, no. She swallows, nervous at the thought, suddenly, but she glances at the Captain. Besides a raise of her eyebrows, Toscano doesn't flinch.

"If you believe it will not be an imposition, Major-General," she says.

Lafayette's grin is wild. "Trust me, mon capitan, you will be received with delight."

Peggy takes the wheel.

"Captain, do you mind if I take the front? I'm afraid my little sister and I haven't seen each other in some time."

"Not your little sister until you put a ring on it, Alex," Peggy says, unable to repress herself.

That earns her a stern look from her Captain, a mortified one from Alex, and a delighted one from Lafayette. The last one sends heat to her neck.

Oh, dammit. No. No, of all the ridiculously unattainable crushes to develop, one on the Marquis de Lafayette surely took the cake.

"By all means, Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton," Toscano says.

Peggy lets out a sigh of relief, and flicks the key in the ignition as Toscano and Lafayette climb into the back of the tractor.

"How's Liz? Holding up alright?" Peggy asks.

"You know, it's funny, I was just about to ask you the same thing about Angelica," Alexander says with a smile.

"Don't deflect, Alex. I want an update."

He throws up his hands. "She's well. Not sleeping all that much, but then, none of us are. If you have any coffee, I suspect she'll sell you her soul for some of that."

"Eliza's soul will just make a jailbreak once it's sold," Peggy snorts. "It's a bad deal to try buying it off."

That brings a startled laugh from Hamilton's throat. "I've missed your approach to metaphor, I admit. Although I was wondering how long you were here for?"

"Three days' shore leave," Peggy says. "Then a new assignment. Whoever needs an engineer most."

"Hmm. That's good to know. I may require your help with something."

"Like what?"

"Promise to keep your voice down?"

She shoots him an unimpressed look. "I will make no such promises."

"Peggy."

"Alright, alright."

"I was wondering if you would help me arrange a proposal suitable for your sister."

It takes all of her self-control to refrain from something very dangerous with the wheel.

"Really?"

"Shhh! Keep your voice down!"

"I will not keep my voice down! You're lucky I'm keeping this tractor on the road!" she retorts.

"Prends pitié de nous, Private Schuyler," Lafayette implores.

"Bah, si vous demandez, Major-Général," she replies, unable to suppress a smile. So. He remembered that she spoke French well enough to interpret. That was something.

She glances back to Alex, and there's a speculative edge to his glance that she's not sure she likes.

"You're serious?"

Alex lets out a sigh. "Yeah. Yeah, I am."

"Have you written to our father? Asked his blessing?"

"Yes. He also has a letter to you for you. But I wanted to know how to do it, how it's done. I'm going to guess the traditions are a little different from Saint Croix."

"A little," Peggy admits with a smile. "But I don't think Eliza will care, so long as you ask."

"I know. But I want to do it right."

Peggy grins at him. "I guess you will, then."

"Captain Toscano," the General greets. His smile is warm, amazingly sincere considering all the pressure he's under, and his eyes are delighted from the news of the shipment. "Thank you for your service."

Toscano salutes. Peggy does as well. "Thank you, sir."

The General's eyes skim her briefly. "I believe I know you, miss."

"General Washington, if I may?" Alexander steps forward. "My friend, Private Margaret Schuyler, daughter of General Philip Schuyler, part of our Engineering Corps."

"And related to the good doctors, no doubt," Washington says, comprehension instantly dawning. "Private, I must thank you and your family as well."

Peggy smiles and nods. "Thank you, sir."

"At ease, both of you," Washington says gently. "Captain, may we offer you anything? Private, no doubt you would like to see your sister."

Peggy nods, stamping down on the familiar spark of curiosity that had always driven her to eavesdrop on whatever she could as a child. Need-to-know.

"She's with General Wayne's brigade, drilling," Lafayette says. "I'll take her."

A raised eyebrow from Washington, but then he nods. "Does that suit, Private?"

She flushes. "Well, I – I wouldn't like to detain the Marquis, if you need him here."

"Nonsense," the Marquis says cheerfully, "if I am cooped up here much longer, our commander will be obliged to knock me out to give himself a moment's peace."

That drew a hasty cough from Washington, and Lafayette grins, before bowing. "Your Excellency."

"Don't delay too long, Lafayette," Washington says, with something like a laugh in his voice.

What the hell is going on? Peggy wonders.

Lafayette holds the door open for her to leave the Headquarters, and it's back into the cold.

Note: None of the mechanics of this ought to make any sense, because I'm a creative writing major who can't assemble a piece of IKEA furniture writing a mechanic. Kthxbai.

Note: God bless Firefly.