The burning sensation in the muscles tightening in his lower calf muscles as he hustled his way to the stables would have been enough to stop any man in their tracks and turn them back for fear of what was to come. In the case of Benjamin Tallmadge, however, a charging, relentless drive overcame every other possible outcome for the day and he could see, hear, and think of nothing else aside from her.

When Abe had blurted out the reappearance of a woman so ethereal that Ben himself could barely breathe, finding her became his one objective for the day and overshadowed all else that he had been tasked with doing. Regardless of his duties as a soldier and a Patriot, Ben understood more than anything else that he was first and foremost a man, a man who had lost his love some time ago when she had been forcibly taken from him and returned to her homeland. Now, allegedly, she was back.

As he mounted his horse and quickly stole away into the night, he was suddenly thankful for the cover of darkness and for the chill in the air to cool his skin as his body temperature quickly heightened to dangerously shaky levels. He attempted to maintain composure, but the thoughts of her soon swarmed him and he forced himself to turn his thoughts to other things, topics to calm his nerves and allow for a steady hand and a swift journey.

Boston was a large city, so when he arrived, how could he be certain that he could even find her, a diamond amid the dirt? Perhaps she would be the one to seek him out, but, then again, she was unaware that he was currently on horseback riding through the biting air to try and reach her as quickly as possible.

Ben had to find her. He had to. The mere thought of being with her when he had thought that all was lost in their love was enough to drive him on, enough to push him the distance between them until the gaps in their presences were closed. Until that moment, he would travel onward.

His horse kept on, but Ben refused to force the animal to run any harder than necessary for fear of its heart giving out before he arrived at Boston. Of course, he could not afford to lose any time regarding the need for a new means of transportation should his horse fail, so he pressed on and remained as steady in pace as he possibly could.

::::

The first time they had met was at Yale when Ben had first been accepted into their educational system and had begun to study classics and politics. He had taken his education very seriously, so it was not at all surprising when a certain young woman, a female by the name of Georgina Dockery, became a distraction for him while simultaneously becoming the object of his affection.

He still found the capability and the want to learn fascinating, but he made time for her, time with which they could properly get to know one another. Ben was smitten with her the first moment he made her acquaintance, but he kept such thoughts to himself until he was certain that she would either be accepting of this notion or, better yet, return the sentiments.

Ben had attached himself to simplistic and realistic ventures where she was concerned, focusing on meaningful conversations and deep, slow walks amid the vast gardens of her family's estate.

She was beyond beautiful. She bore long, brunette hair that was often pinned up against her scalp in eloquent and elaborate ways, but there were always a few pin curls that seemed to outstay their welcome and dangle from the sides and back of her hair, but not in an unkempt kind of way. Rather, it was becoming. Her eyes were of a sincere shade of emerald green, and her nose was quite Germanic in nature. Her lips were full and naturally pink and stretched their way across straight, white teeth that any woman of their time would have given anything to possess. Broad shoulders that were not too manly were set against her womanly figure, lovely in nature and graceful to behold. Her skin was an ivory shade with a pinkish hue beneath it that seemed to give the impression that she was perpetually blushing. Dresses with squared necks framed her shapely and ample cleavage, feminine breasts formed to the corset beneath the yards-upon-yards of elegant material hiding the svelte goddess that it masked. Georgina - or as her closer relationships called her "Georgie" - was perfection in its finest and Ben yearned for her in a way that he had never before felt for anyone, nor would he ever be that way about another woman in his life. His dear mother had been one thing; of course, the love he felt for Georgie was anything but familial except, perhaps, in the Biblical sense.

Georgie was elegance personified and Ben was in love.

"Georgie," the young woman's female companion said as she approached her friend in the gardens now bustling with faces and voices of newcomers to her home, "have you met a few of the young scholars who are gracing us with their presences this fine evening?"

Georgie smiled at the young men who approached her, all of whom seemed to be shaken at their very cores that a woman of her caliber would give them such a warm and sincere expression. "No, I have not," she responded. "Welcome to our home, gentlemen."

"Miss Dockery," they all greeted, bowing in turn and removing their hats if they happened to be wearing one at the time.

"Who might you be?" she asked of the first young man in the line.

A blond boy with a nervous disposition outstretched his hand to take hers, but just before he could touch her hand in a moment of politeness, he withdrew his extended limb and merely gave her a slight smirk.

"Henry Atkins, Miss Georgina," he greeted, and she curtsied in spite of his blatant disregard for her. "Delighted."

Georgie returned the smirk but added her own comment to it. "It would not appear that you are, in fact, delighted to make my acquaintance, Mister Atkins. You actually appear to be more daunted."

Henry Atkins was at a loss for words and backed away, bowing his head as if to get himself away from the conversation that had suddenly shut him out of it.

The next male was called William Quincy Edwards, and he would never let anyone forget any of his three names. Georgie had zero interest in him, though, knowing that her friend was introducing these men as prospective love interests, possible thoughts for a future husband and a solid future. She would have admitted that she did not require any assistance of this nature, but her friend's introductions were more than appreciated to be sure.

Next came Albert Jones, a man of simple nature who just wanted to be a good husband and a farmer, a shortlist of facts that he was sure to tell her as soon as their first names had been exchanged. Georgie thought that he was a kind man, but not her type in any fashion.

A few more men later and she was unsure if she could handle one more introduction, and that's when her guardian angel took her by complete surprise.

"I do apologize for the sods that came before me," Ben stated politely, earning himself an earnest chuckle from Georgie. "I will admit, though, I am quite nervous myself."

"Do you not talk to women much, sir?" Georgie asked, her eyebrows raised in her suspicion.

"I do not, no." Together they shared a small laugh. "Though, to be fair..." He stopped short and waved the rest of his sentence away, almost as if it did not need to be said.

"What is it?"

"Nevermind." Ben merely smiled and bowed at the waist. "Benjamin Tallmadge, my lady."

Georgie curtsied, a blush creeping up beneath her already rosy cheeks. "Georgina Dockery. All of my friends call me 'Georgie.' I hope that you shall do the same."

"Would you consider us friends, Georgie?"

"Not as of yet, I'm afraid, but perhaps in the future we could be friends, yes. Do you go by 'Benjamin' or 'Ben'? I am impartial to either - "

"Ben. I would like it if you called me Ben."

Georgie grinned, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. "As you wish...Ben."

They shared smiles and silence, all the while the energy between them created a heated friction that neither wanted to get away from.

::::

That was 1770. The year now was 1778, and so much had transpired since the very beginnings, the humble start of their love and the realism that they were slapped with on an almost-daily basis.

She was everything to him and he had to get that back. From the off, it was clear that the connection was far more than superficial, physical attraction. More than life, more than anything, they were destined, and as cliched as it may have seemed to the outside world, if each could not live out their future with the other, than all would seem pointless. Worthless. A waste of time.

No. Not to us. We are supposed to be together - I cannot be without her. Not again. Not anymore.

Ben allowed his horse to stop and water through the night so that he, at least, could grab a few hours of sleep however restless it would be.

It was.

::::

Georgie's emerald hues were a more vibrant shade of green that day, both cast down at her hands where they lay folded in her lap. The dress she was wearing was a beautiful, sunshine-reflective shade of yellow that seemed to give her a halo of sorts amid the multitude of whites, reds, and various pastels surrounding her in the garden.

Ben quietly sat down beside her, his hands remaining tight within his own reach. Each set of fingers wrung the others, white knuckles trying to convey what his words could not.

She noticed him pulling his own skin taut until the blood had completely escaped them, and she took pity on him, deciding on her own to break the awkward silence by slipping her hand into his personal space and taking one of his hands free from the other, dislodging it and gripping it tightly - albeit affectionately - within her own.

"What will I do here without you?" she questioned, the unanswered statement ringing like a migraine within her mind. "The battlegrounds are always so far away from here."

Ben nodded, gripping her hand within his own. "I will return as often as I can," he reassured her, "and I will come back to you."

"You must," she pleaded, her eyes meeting his at a more leveled stance than before. "I need you, Ben, quite possibly more than you need me."

Ben shook his head, quickly removing her glove from her fingers and hastily applying her palm to his cheek. Georgie watched him, her chin quivering at the sight of his need for her fleshly caress. "I have to feel your skin on mine. How much more could I possibly crave you?"

Georgie blinked hard, a few tears escaping her eyes as he pressed his cheek further into her hand. "I love you."

Ben nodded fervently. "And I love you."

She felt her shoulders quiver as she leaned into him and pushed her forehead against his. He breathed in her essence, his nose nudging hers affectionately, slowly. After a moment, he closed the space between them - all two inches - and loosened the muscles of his mouth to press against hers.

::::

It hurt him to admit that he needed her more than she needed him, and the sheer memory of the first time each had said 'I love you' to the other, two weeks before Ben was sent off to military training, was almost too much for his already lovesick heart to take.

The Boston city limits were within his footfalls as the sun reached mid-height the next day. He was relieved, but he was also more edgy than before, mostly due to the adrenaline and anticipation of being with her again.

Dismounting his horse after tying it off to a hitching post on the outskirts of the city, Ben rushed into the taverns he came across, every single one of them that he could find. The questions he asked were all the same, and they vaguely recalled seeing a woman of her caliber a few days prior, but that was all the information they could divulge at the moment. Ben began to be disheartened once again.

Out on the street in the marketplace, there was a bustle of folks who were busy getting all that they needed for the day or for the week. He started to think that he would never be able to discern her position in the midst of the chaotic crowds, and that's when he saw the one person who could actually help him: Georgie's maid and close confidant, a medium-skinned woman named Sarah.

Ben slipped up behind her and upon meeting the dark-haired woman with work-calloused skin, the smile he received was one of shock and confusion.

"Mister Tallmadge," she half-burst, quickly tripping over herself as he shushed her in his own discrete way. "I see you have heard of our return."

Ben nodded feverishly and rewet his lips with an eager tongue that would soon be plagued by drymouth. "Of course!" he whispered hoarsely. "Where is your mistress?"

Sarah gestured with her head in the direction of the next market over. "She is there...looking for flowers, I think, though her favorites are not in-season."

Ben gave her a brief smirk before darting off, suddenly self-aware and thankful that he had actually recalled to remove his uniform and muss his appearance to blend in properly among a city of red-coats.

His heart fluttered and flapped its wings, attempting to take flight before it had even mustered the chance to see its one desire again, and in the light of all that was happening and in the sea of unfamiliar faces, a coo of laughter - a sound that seemed to Ben like the tinkling of angels' wings or of the purr of a dove - caught and held his attention, anchoring on the only thing he had to rely on where Georgie was concerned: memory. Memory served him correctly. She was there.

Up ahead, there were several hundred people rushing to and fro in gathering supplies, but she stood out. She truly was a diamond in the dirt, a beacon of hope and of a prospective future that had once died but was being rekindled the instant he heard her laughter.

Their love was like laughter itself - banking on ups and downs, on the trigger of something enlightening to encourage it to lengthen itself. The genuine aspect of laughter relied solely on the idea that something caused it and that the cause was based on happiness or of silliness or of the idea that humor must be cherished and appreciated, and that is how Ben had always looked at his relationship with Georgie.

Now she was here before him and he wanted to cry with joy and relief and everything in between, but he didn't. He remained in the shadows, watching her as she made her way slowly down the marketplace. Ben waited until she was at a specific corner of the street before he approached her in silence, his eyes reflecting all that he was feeling inside.

Georgie's eyes met his and, for a moment, neither said a word to the other. Emerald met cerulean and crystals were shattered. Seconds, perhaps minutes, passed without a second thought and the tears welled up in both sets of eyes as each struggled to maintain composure in the middle of the street.

"Ben..." she exhaled, the sound of her voice wavering as her hand planted itself flat against her stomach and a smile upturned the corners of her mouth. "My Ben...my God..."

Ben nodded. "My love," he returned, stepping one bit closer to her. "I heard - "

Georgie shook her head, putting her hand up to his lips to silence him. "Not here." She took him by the hand and dragged him behind her into an alleyway nearby, one that was secluded and away from the rest of society, away from prying eyes and judging looks.

As soon as they were in complete exclusion, Georgie threw her arms around Ben's neck unabashedly and sobbed out her relief, her feeling of safety. Ben, too, pulled her into the circle of his arms and released his inner frustration, the feelings of loss finally coming to an end.

"I have missed you so!" she confessed, her voice shaking amid the pressure she placed into his outer coat.

"I feared the worst when you were suddenly gone - I knew it must have been your father!"

Georgie nodded, pulling back her scrunched, slightly slobbering face from his coat and pulling his face into hers by her ungloved hands. Her smile was wide, and his was reflective of hers, his hands wrapped possessively around her back and up over her shoulderblades as a means of not letting her go. "It was, my love - oh, it was!"

"We shall discuss it - for now, I need your lips." Ben chuckled to himself, quickly leaning in and meshing his mouth to hers in a sweet cascade of lost kisses, almost as if he was making up for the time they had lost on her forced venture back to England.

They had plenty of time to discuss it, but, for now, deep kisses and long, held-back tears were the order of the day.