The chill in the air cut through Robert’s shirt, chilling him to his bones. That was the problem with trying to dress in the fall now that he actually worked outside again. In the mornings he’d start with his jacket on, then he’d have to shed it by the middle of the afternoon, but by the time the sun started to dip he’d feel the chill start to set in again. He shook his head to clear out his own complaints so he could focus on bringing in the last row of squash. 

He was interrupted again by the sound of hooves carrying up the narrow drive. Robert half expected to see Abraham there, ready to bring more trouble into his life. Instead it was a messenger. “Are you Robert Townsend?” the man asked as he came to a stop. 

“Yes,” Robert said, frowning and not bothering to hide his confusion. Usually when a messenger came to their home looking for a Townsend it was for his father. Robert hadn’t exactly left many friends behind in New York. 

The man reached into his bag and pulled out a large soft parcel, held together with twine. He tossed it to Robert who caught it as the man was already turning his horse, likely wanting to get back into town before it became too dark. 

Robert turned the parcel over in his hands, it was light and squished wherever he gripped it. Maybe his father had ordered something the last time he’d been in the city and had put Robert’s name on the order. He set the package down next to his jacket on the front steps and went back to finish his work. The cold was a good motivator to be fast. 

It was about an hour later and the last dregs of light and warmth were long gone when he shut the barn door and finally went inside, picking up his jacket and the package as he went. 

His father was in the kitchen finishing dinner and humming to himself a happy little tune the way he did whenever he was particularly pleased with whatever it was he had made. The song had sprung to Robert’s mind every time he’d eaten something delicious in the city even though his father had been miles away. 

Robert set the parcel on the table on his way to the washbasin. The sound of the crinkling paper must have grabbed Samuel’s attention because he turned around and picked it up. “What’s this?” 

“I thought it was yours? Robert asked, digging the dirt out from under his nails. 

He took that as permission to open it. Robert whipped his hands as he approached the table and his father revealed two carefully folded black jackets. Samuel immediately pulled on the one that was closer to his size. 

The rest of the country might never know what you did but I can still say thank you - Hercules Robert flipped over the card. I estimated your father’s measurements. Come in if it needs adjusting. It will be good to see you.

Robert looked up at his father who was practically preening in his new jacket. The shine of the buttons matched the shine of his shoe buckles and it seemed to fit him perfectly. Robert was relieved to see that his buttons were as plain as they had ever been.

“Who are they from?”

“Mr. Mulligan and Cato,” Robert said, forcing himself to put down the card and not keep searching it for an additional explanation. In hindsight, he supposed the man did seem the type to send gifts to anyone for almost any reason. 

Samuel paused to give him a look that Robert had yet to decode even after decades of receiving it. “We should take him something in thanks when we go into the city next week,” he said as he went to the stove and started to serve the stew.

“I suppose we should,” Robert said, taking his soup and sitting at the table. His father was probably already making a long list of items for them to take to Mulligan and Cato in thanks. 

For the rest of the night, Robert pretended not to notice his father watching him, and he made sure that when he took his jacket to his room Samuel didn’t notice him swipe the note in with it to be safely tucked away. Robert also tried not to think about why it was so important that the note be safe. 

**

A week passed and they made their way into the city to deliver the food and be paid by a grocer. They both wore his new jackets as it was only polite to show the appropriate appreciation for the craftsmanship. But once they were in the city Robert was shooed off by his father to go to Mulligan’s with the flimsy reasoning that Samuel had been working with these same men since before Robert had been born he could handle it. 

So Robert left with the basket full of bread, jam, and a few of the better squashes from their harvest and went to Mulligan’s shop. He felt a twinge of nostalgia at the sight of Rivington’s pub but kept walking without a glance inside. 

There was no one inside the shop when he entered but Mulligan yelled from the back room at the sound of the bell. “Just a moment.” 

Robert just hummed and paced the room, looking at the fine clothes on the walls. 

A few minutes later Mulligan came out. “What can I help y- ah. Robert. I didn’t expect to see you,” he said with a smile, coming forward. His eyes caught on the basket and Robert handed it to him.

“A thank you.” 

Mulligan looked inside and smiled. “Thank you but,” he started as he set the basket on the counter. “Seeing you in the jacket is more than enough thanks.”

Robert’s heart gave a hard thud that he ignored. 

Mulligan gestured at him. “May I?” 

Robert nodded and took a step closer at the same time Mulligan did and they were suddenly very close. Mulligan ran his hands over the shoulder seams, his brow furrowed in concentration. He paced around Robert who barely resisted the urge to shut his eyes and relax into the touch, as he tried to remember how to breathe properly. His hand ran down Robert’s back, stopping at the base of his spine with a satisfied hum before he came around and took Robert’s hands to inspect the cuffs. 

In a thoughtless gesture, he ran his thumb over Robert’s knuckles. “I do marvelous work, don’t I?” he said finally as he let go of Robert, though he stayed firmly in his personal space. 

“And you’re so humble,” Robert managed.

Mulligan just laughed and then shot a look out his own windows. “Will your father be coming by? Your measurements I had, he was more of a challenge.” 

“I’m sure he’ll be along. Though your estimations of his measurements were fine. He’s half-convinced I was helping you.” Robert’s smile was small but grew against his will when Mulligan laughed at his joke. 

“Come, let’s sit in the back while we wait for him. I don’t have any appointments this afternoon and it'll be nice to catch up with a friend,” Mulligan said, one hand already on Robert’s arm and leading him into the back room and the other carrying the basket with them. 

There were rolls of fabric on shelves against every wall but one where two large tables were pushed up against it, one clear of everything but a pair of scissors and the other covered in sketches. “Where’s Cato?” Robert asked as Mulligan poured them both a glass of madeira and he sat in one of the chairs. “Half of what’s in that basket is for him.” 

“If he’s had any luck, Canada by now.” Mulligan relaxed into his chair and passed Robert his glass. “I’m having a hell of a time trying to hire a replacement. He was really quite talented.”

“I see,” Robert said. “I hope it’s everything he’d hoped.”

Mulligan smiled. “Me too.” For a moment he looked far away but then he looked back up at Robert with a smile. “What about you? What are you doing?” 

“What I was always supposed to be doing. Honest work,” Robert said, keeping his face schooled in a neutral expression even though he felt a twinge of laughter in his throat. 

Mulligan laughed. “But you made such a fine bartender. I thought it might have been your true calling.”

Robert raised a brow. “Did you become a spy because you're a patriot or because you enjoy lying?” 

Mulligan put his hand to his heart. “You wound me,” he said, still grinning. “I suppose we all have our talents,” he said as the bell above the door rang. “Stay here, it’ll only take a moment,” he whispered as he stood. 

“I’m sorry we’re cl - oh Mr. Townsend. It’s so good to see you,” Mulligan said as he entered the front room again. Robert sighed and set down his glass on the table before he went out to join them. He didn’t examine why he felt so put out by his father’s appearance, and pushed the feeling away. He had wanted him to arrive so that they could leave the city and make it home before it was too dark. There was no reason for him to have wanted him to stay away. 

“Please, call me Samuel,” he said with a polite smile, though his eyes flickered to Robert as if to gauge the reaction. “After you gave us such fine gifts.” 

“Only if you’ll call me Hercules. And they are gifts I would like to inspect. Do you mind? I had to estimate your measurements based on the few times I saw you in Rivington’s,” Mulligan said, still smiling like he was actually enjoying seeing them in their jackets and checking the measurements brought him immeasurable joy. 

“Of course,” Samuel said, being led happily to a short pedestal so that Mulligan could inspect his work. 

There was more humming and frowning than when he’d looked at Robert’s and his touch seemed lighter and more precise instead of the sweeping motions he’d made across Robert’s shoulders and back. Robert didn’t know what to think of that difference as he noted it, but it made him blush all the same. 

“Would you take off your jacket? I made your sleeves too short and your shoulders just a touch too broad. I’ll take some proper measurements and fix it for you,” he said, already starting to take Samuel’s jacket. 

“Oh, it’s really -”

“Please, allow me.” 

“If you insist.”

Robert shot his father a look through the reflection of the mirror but Samuel only grinned wider. 

Mulligan disappeared into the back for a moment and came back with his kit in hand. “You can go sit in the back if you like. This won’t take long but it’s not terribly exciting,” he said, his smile gone as he focused on the task at hand. 

“I don’t imagine staring at your walls of fabric is any more exciting back there than it is here,” Robert said ignoring the way his father was staring at him in the mirror. He recognized it from when Robert had been a teenager and girls from town would try to talk to him. He’d been grateful when it’d stopped until it started showing up whenever a man anywhere near his age was kind to him. Samuel had always been too observant and too encouraging for his own good. 

Mulligan did crack a smile as he measured Samuel’s shoulders and for a second his eyes flickered up to meet Robert’s before they went back to the tape and to the little piece of paper to write the measurement down. “At least go get your drink. Don’t let my good madeira go to waste.” 

Robert sighed as he started towards the back. “Would you like your glass as well?” 

“I finished mine, but I wouldn’t say no to another. Samuel?” 

“Oh, no thank you.” 

“You just want me to pour your drinks for you again,” Robert grumbled. 

Mulligan laughed loudly. “You’ve caught me.” Robert went back, grabbed his still mostly full glass, and poured some more into Mulligan’s empty. He brought both glasses out and placed Mulligan’s on the counter next to him. 

“I do so miss seeing you at Rivington’s,” he said, taking a sip and staring at Robert while he did. 

Robert felt hot all over and the warmth of the madeira in his stomach wasn’t helping. 

Mulligan turned back to Samuel with a smile. “And you too. It was a bright spot in my day when I’d see you come in to harass poor Robert and James.”

“I hardly think I harassed them,” he said with a frown. 

“For once I agree with Mr. Mulligan,” Robert said with a satisfied smirk to his father. 

Mulligan stepped back to look at Samuel. “I didn’t say it was undeserved. Let me get you a cloak. I won’t send you into this weather without a jacket.” 

“But how will you get it back?” Samuel asked in the tone of voice Robert had learned to be wary of when he’d still only been a child. It was the tone he took whenever he had something in mind and wanted someone else to suggest it first. He usually got his way. 

“I’ll bring your jacket out myself and I’ll get it back then. How does that sound?”

Samuel smiled and Robert drained this glass. “Only if you agree to stay the night. I’d hate to have you make that whole trip in a day just for us. I'll make us something nice for dinner,” Samuel said with a smile. 

Mulligan’s gaze flickered to Robert and then back to Samuel. “I’d love to. I’ll ride out the Friday after next, how does that sound?” 

“Just wonderful.” 

“Let me get that cloak,” he said before disappearing into the back and reappearing with a black cloak and handed it to Samuel with a smile. 

“We should be leaving if we want to get back before it’s too dark,” Robert said with a frown and a nod at the sun that was already making its descent. 

“You’re right, unfortunately. It was so good to officially meet you, Mr. Mulligan,” Samuel said, securing the cloak around his shoulders. 

“It was, Mr. Townsend,” Mulligan said and for a second they both stopped to stare each other down while Robert rolled his eyes and opened the door. 

“It was nice to see you, Mr. Mulligan. We’ll expect you the Friday after next,” Robert said. Samuel walked out in front of him he followed, the door almost shut when he heard Mulligan quietly say “I’ll be there.” 

**

They were back on the road, the sun setting quickly when Robert broke the tense silence. Though he was fairly certain it was only tense on his end. “You should leave Mulligan alone.”

“Why?” Samuel asked, clearly having expected the statement, probably before Robert had settled on saying it. 

“Because I know what you’re thinking and you’re wrong. He’s married.” 

“I am simply making a friend, Robert. With a man who already considers you a friend,” Samuel scolded. 

“No, you’re not. You’re trying to force us together because you think we harbor feelings for each other. The type of feelings that get a man executed,” Robert snapped, jaw set as he looked out onto the road. 

“Spying can get a man executed as well.”

“I would hardly compare the two.”

“Of course not. That would be far too easy.” 

“Father-”

“There is no harm in having dinner with a friend. Especially not in your father’s house,” he said, firmly. There were days when Robert felt as if he were the one who was the parent, curbing his father’s more fanciful impulses. But there were times, like that moment, when he felt as if he were still a child, being taught a life lesson he’d rather not know. 

The rest of the ride was silent. 

**

The steady beat of hooves striking the ground at a trot approached and Robert felt his heart jump into his throat. He’d been listening for the sound all day, not that he could admit that even to himself. Just like he wouldn’t admit that he’d been saving brushing down the horses until the evening so that he would be in the barn already when Mulligan arrived. 

He stepped outside to see Mulligan slowing to a stop, smiling brightly down at Robert. “Hello, Mr. Mulligan. Welcome,” he said as Mulligan got off the horse. He wasn’t dressed as brightly as he did in the city, though Robert was sure that if he felt the cloth it would be no less fine. He scolded himself for the desire to confirm it. “We’ve made a place for your horse.” 

“You hear that? They made a place for you,” he said to the horse, though his eyes never left Robert’s, laughter clear. 

Robert turned back into the barn, partially just to hide his smile and get himself back under control. He liked Mulligan but he knew he couldn’t allow that. 

He opened the stall door next to his own horse’s and stepped aside. There was water and hay and a fresh apple on the half-wall as a treat because Robert had always had a soft spot for horses. He thought for a moment that Mulligan would say something about it, when his eyes caught on it and he smirked, but instead he just clapped Robert on the shoulder. “It’s good to see you. How are you?” 

“We saw each other two weeks ago,” Robert said, tense as Mulligan’s hand ran down his arm before dropping to his side again. 

“A lot can happen in two weeks.” 

Robert started out of the barn and towards the house. “Not out here.” 

Samuel was standing on the porch to greet him, a pleased smile on his face. “Hercules, you had a safe ride?” 

“A delight,” Hercules said, going up the two steps and clapping Samuel on the shoulders. “I believe I owe you a jacket, sir.” 

“After dinner. Come inside and wash your hands, both of you.” 

**

Dinner was less terrible than Robert had feared. Robert was able to sit quietly while Mulligan and Samuel kept up a near-constant chatter. Somehow they both resisted the topic of Robert and whatever stories they could think of that would embarrass him, though there were a few times that the conversation strayed and Robert had chimed in, hoping to steer it away from himself. 

True to his word, after dinner and while Robert was cleaning up, Mulligan took Samuel to the sitting room where the fire was brighter and had him try on the jacket. A few minutes later they came striding back into the kitchen where Robert had just finished, both looking incredibly pleased with themselves. “What do you think, Robert?” 

Robert barely looked at his father, finding himself drawn to staring at Mulligan’s smile instead. He corrected himself and examined the jacket. “It looks much the same as it did before.” 

“You wound me,” Mulligan said, shaking his head. “Your son has no appreciation for craftsmanship.”

“I have plenty of appreciation. It was fine before.” 

“Fine is not perfect.” 

“Perfection is not for us.” 

“Then as close to perfect as we lowly humans are allowed.” 

Samuel broke up their bickering with a laugh. Robert’s face felt hot. “I’m glad you two get along so well. Robert, will you join us?” 

“It’s not as if there’s somewhere else to be,” Robert said, though he grabbed a bottle of mead and three glasses. Neither his father nor Mulligan needed to know that it was the bottle Robert had purchased from their neighbor after Mulligan had said he would be visiting. 

He followed the two of them into the sitting room. 

There were two chairs that sat on either side of a small table and a couch on the opposite side of the room. Robert poured them each a drink and pretended that his heart didn’t jump into his throat when, as he passed Mulligan his glass, their fingers brushed and Mulligan grinned at him like it’d been on purpose. 

From then Robert went back to ignoring what they actually said. He settled into the corner of the couch with his book as he did every night and let their conversation wash over him like white noise. Every once in a while something would catch his attention and he’d look up, and chime in, much to the delight of both men. It was nice, Robert supposed, to have a friend who didn’t mind Robert ignoring him and still smiled at him when Robert deigned to interrupt him. 

After a while though, Samuel’s yawns became more dramatic, and Robert was sure falsified, and he excused himself to go to bed. 

Robert listened to the steady, familiar rhythm of his father going up the stairs and felt himself relax into the couch despite himself. Mulligan was still right there, and of the two of them, he was the one to be more worried about. Though the fear of Samuel saying something embarrassing in front of Mulligan had kept him on edge all night. 

“I can see why you prefer it. It’s nice here,” Mulligan said, leaning back in the chair and taking a sip of his mead, his eyes fixed on Robert. 

“Thinking of a change in profession?” 

“God, no. Can you imagine?” Mulligan said, looking taken aback. 

“No, I cannot.” 

Mulligan laughed and Robert forced down another smile at the accomplishment. The man had a beautiful laugh, and he did it often and seemed pleased with himself constantly. It should have been much more grating than it was charming and yet there Robert was absolutely charmed. 

“Are you going to go back to that book or can I convince you to play a game of draughts with your guest?” 

“As long as you don’t mind losing,” Robert said, placing his bookmark and setting aside the book. He got up to fetch the board and pieces from the shelf.

“We’ll see who loses,” Mulligan said, scooting up a little in the chair so that he was closer to the small table where Robert had begun setting up the board. 

“If you’re so confident, how about a wager?” Robert said as he sat in the other chair. 

Mulligan stared at him for a moment, his head cocked and a small smirk on his lips. For a moment Robert thought he saw his eyes flicker down to his lips, but it must have been a trick of the flickering firelight. “I’m not sure you want to play for the kind of stakes I have in mind.” 

Robert wanted to press, to find out what those stakes were. Maybe he still could. “Then how about my stakes? Lose a piece, answer a question.” 

“If you have questions of me, you need only ask.” 

Robert hummed. “I’m not sure you’d answer them.”

“Then what makes you think I’d answer them if you asked from the game?” 

“You seem the type of man to honor your word.” 

“He said to the spy.” 

“The spy said to the other spy.” 

Mulligan smiled. “Very well. Lose a piece, answer a question.” He refilled both their glasses. 

Robert made the first move and took his drink when Mulligan handed it back. It was only a few minutes before Robert took the first piece. 

“Damn,” Mulligan swore. “Alright, what do you want to know?” 

Robert knew exactly what he wanted to ask. It was the same question that had been burning a hole in his mind for weeks.“Why did you make the jackets?” 

Mulligan paused as if he hadn’t been expecting that question, which seemed odd. It was the obvious question. “Because I wanted to.” 

“That’s not an answer.” 

“Maybe you should be more specific in the wording of your questions. Win another piece, find out why I wanted to.” 

Mulligan took his turn and Robert took another piece. “Were you nicer to Rivington when you two played? Because I can beat him and he said he held his own against you.”

“Win a piece and you can find out. Now, why did you want to?” 

“At the time it seemed like the best way to get your attention again.” 

Robert frowned. Mulligan took the next piece. It didn’t feel like a friendly game anymore. “Does it bother you that I made the jackets?”

“Yes.” 

Mulligan flinched as if he’d been hit and Robert felt the urge to take it back, but he knew he couldn’t. He sacrificed his next piece instead. 

“Do you wish I hadn’t? Do you wish I hadn’t come here today?” Mulligan’s face was closed off and colder than Robert had seen before.

“That’s two questions.” 

“Pick one.” 

Robert sighed and rolled them both over in his mind. It was the same answer, and they were equally dangerous. “No. I am glad to have you here.”

His face softened a bit and Robert had no qualms about taking the next piece. “Why are you here?”

Mulligan took a drink. “Your father invited me.” 

Robert narrowed his eyes and shook his head. For a while, they avoided each other on the board. They each got a piece kinged and after every move Mulligan watched Robert’s face instead of the board. 

Robert took two pieces. “Why did you accept?” 

“At the time, it seemed like the best way to get your attention.” 

“Why do you want my attention so badly?” 

Mulligan looked at the two pieces that had been stacked to the side with a frown. “Because, my dear Robert,” he began, looking up to hold Robert’s gaze. “I enjoyed having you as my friend. You’re sharp as a whip, you’re funnier than anyone appreciates, and you’re braver than anyone I’ve ever known. In all, I like you.” 

For a moment, as Mulligan continued to stare at him, Robert was overwhelmed, his mind spun and buzzed without processing any of it. He looked back to the board. He’d have Mulligan beat in just a few more moves and then he could escape to his room. 

Mulligan moved a piece, though it didn't fit with any strategy that Robert could follow. When Robert chanced a glance up at him he was still staring directly at him. Robert took the next piece. He didn’t look at Mulligan when he asked. “How long have you been married?” 

“Six years,” Mulligan answered. Robert still didn’t look up but he could feel him staring. There were six pieces left and Robert, having decided to abandon his genuine curiosity was floundering to come up with more questions. 

Mulligan moved a piece directly into Robert’s path. He took it. “Do you have a favorite customer?”

“Yes.” 

Mulligan took a piece. “Why aren’t you asking the questions you want to?” 

Robert stared down at the table. Five more pieces, five more questions he would have to think of and ask or he’d keep being asked questions he didn’t want to answer. “Because I don’t want the answers anymore.”

“What? One compliment and Robert Townsend backs down? I never expected you to be so soft,” Mulligan said with a smirk. 

“Forgive me for wanting to save you the embarrassment,” Robert shot back. It was foolish he supposed, to back down as soon as Mulligan said something nice about him. It was clearly only a ploy to distract him from the game at hand and learn what he wanted to know. 

“I’m not embarrassed by anything I said.” 

“Of course not.” Robert looked back to the board with a new determination. 

Another few moves, each of them actually trying again, Robert took a piece, knowing the next would be Mulligan’s. “Do you miss the excitement of the war?” Robert did, sometimes, much to his own shame. 

“Oh, asking interesting questions again, are we? Yes. I do, but I don’t miss the fear that caused that excitement. Doesn’t make much sense does it?” Mulligan said with a shrug.

“Unfortunately, it makes perfect sense.” He motioned at the board and Mulligan took his piece. 

Mulligan held the piece up for a second as he stared at Robert. “Do you miss the city?” 

A lie lept quickly to his lips but Robert pushed it away. He’d asked for honesty, he needed to return it. “Sometimes.” Mulligan nodded slowly like he understood the deeper truth there; that sometimes Robert missed being unknown, being anonymous. He nodded like he understood what that anonymity meant to Robert. 

Robert refocused on the board. It was getting to the point that they’d locked their pieces into place and any move to capture one piece would mean sacrificing their own. After a few more turns Mulligan managed to capture a piece. “Did Rivington know or did you leave preemptively?” 

“He caught me changing the books.” 

Mulligan’s eyes lit up. “And he didn’t change them back?” 

“There wasn’t time before they had to be delivered,” Robert said with a shrug. The whole night was a little bit of a mess in his memory, too much emotion and too little sleep had clouded the whole thing. He’d left as soon as he’d finished, quietly as he could so as not to chance running into Rivington again, just in case he changed his mind. 

“That man,” Mulligan said with a smile, rolling his eyes. 

Robert hummed in agreement as he took the next piece. Mulligan’s question had piqued his interest. “Were you and Rivington actually friends or were you just using him as I was?” 

Mulligan shook his head and took a drink. “I’d call us friends. He and I have a lot in common.” He made his move with a sigh, clearly ready for Robert to take the piece and expecting the next question. 

“What do you mean by that?” 

“We have you in common, don’t we?” 

Robert narrowed his eyes with a frown. Another few moves and he took the second to last piece. “Do you regret making the jackets?”

“Not for a second.” 

He had to chase Mulligan’s piece around the board for a few moves but he caught him. Mulligan looked like he was on the verge of laughing, like causing that small amount of inconvenience had brought him as much joy as anything.

“Last question of the night.”

“I’ll make it good.” Robert took a drink, draining his glass. “Do you intend to come back here again?” 

Mulligan smiled, wide and genuinely pleased, without a hint of laughter. “If I’m welcome.”

Robert held his gaze as he nodded. “You are.” Mulligan’s smile softened and the air was suddenly heavier. He didn’t know how long they sat there, the fire crackling next to them, the air thick with some unnamed tension, as they held each other’s gaze. It was the clock in the hall chiming midnight that broke the spell. 

They each leaned back into their chair, looking anywhere but each other. “It’s late. We should go to bed,” Robert said after a moment. He stood, putting the board and the pieces in their proper place as Mulligan took their glasses into the kitchen. 

Robert lit two candles for them to take upstairs and ensured the fire was safe to leave for the night, behind the grate and already dying out. 

They met again at the bottom of the stairs, too close as they went up the narrow steps, Robert just a step behind Mulligan. On the small landing that had the doors to the three bedrooms they stopped, facing each other. 

“Well-” 

Robert cut him off. “What were the stakes? The ones you had in mind?” Robert asked, unable to help himself. He still wanted to know what it was that Mulligan had assumed Robert wasn’t willing to risk. 

That time Robert was sure he saw Mulligan’s eyes catch on his lips. “I think we both know that’s another question you don’t want the answer to.” 

For a second, in the flickering candlelight he did know and he was trapped. He couldn’t look away, he wasn’t even sure if he was breathing. Mulligan stared back, a soft smile playing at his lips. “Goodnight, Robert,” he said finally, going into his room and leaving Robert breathless in the hall.

Part 2

Robert had barely slept when he woke at dawn. The rest of the house was quiet and he was tempted to roll over and go back to sleep. If he were the type he would have, telling himself that he had resisted enough temptation the day before and could afford a little. Instead, he forced himself out of bed and got dressed.

As quietly as he could he lit a fire in the kitchen stove and lingered a minute to warm up his hands before he went outside. A thin layer of frost covered everything, making it sparkle in the early morning light and the grass crunch under his steps. “Good morning,” he said to the animals as he opened the barn. They all shuffled around in answer, knowing exactly what came next. With the same methodical process that he did every morning, he fed each animal. First the pigs, then the goats, then the horses. He fetched them each water from the well, taking special care not to splash any on his breeches. Because it was cold, not because there was a high society tailor with a smile that made his heart beat faster in the house. No, that was unrelated.

Once the animals were fed and watered Robert took the time to look them each over. He liked to watch the animals, to check on them, and make sure they were as happy as they could be. They were peaceful and watching them brought him a little bit of peace. His father to be up soon but he likely had a few more minutes before anyone missed him too terribly and could take the time to appreciate his morning. 

He stood at the stall where Mulligan’s horse was happily drinking its water, unaware of the larger problems of the world. All it thought about was food and water and when someone familiar would come see it. It didn’t know or care how much the hay it ate cost and Robert loved it for that. It must have noticed Robert watching because it looked up at him with its big black eyes, licking the water off its chomps. Robert held out his hand slowly, unreasonably pleased when it nosed at his hands. 

“Loves attention that one.” 

Robert startled hard, whirling around to see Mulligan laughing at him. He hoped his glare at Mulligan would cover some of his embarrassment. “I can’t imagine who that reminds me of.”

Mulligan laughed loudly as he came forward to pat his horse, which did seem pleased at the attention. “Maybe that’s why she’s my favorite.” 

“You prefer those who like attention as much as you?” Robert heard himself ask before he’d decided to. It gave away too much, Mulligan would surely see exactly what Robert was actually asking. 

Mulligan cocked his head to one side, his smile softening and his eyes just a touch warmer than before. It made Robert warmer too. “What I appreciate about a horse is different than what I like in a,” Mulligan paused making a show of looking Robert up and down, “person.” 

Robert swallowed hard, looking away to the rafters. They offered no help. “Are you leaving so soon?” Robert asked when he had recovered the ability to speak. 

 “Not yet. Your father sent me to find you for breakfast.”

“Then we should go back inside before it gets cold.” Robert didn’t move, and for a moment neither did Mulligan. They just stared at each other, barely a foot apart. 

But then Mulligan clapped him on the arm with a smile. “You’re probably right. I’m starved.” 

Robert followed him out of the barn, pausing long enough to grab a scoop of grain for the chickens that had already started to gather at the door. He’d expected Mulligan to continue on without him, but instead when he looked up Mulligan was just standing there on the porch with a soft smile on his face, watching him. 

“What?” Robert asked as he left the chickens behind to go inside. 

“You have a beautiful smile. I wish you didn’t save it just for the chickens,” Mulligan whispered following Robert close enough that he could feel his breath on the back of his neck. 

Robert didn’t have a good answer for that so he just walked a little faster to the kitchen to join his father who was already sitting and eating. 

He must have made some face because Samuel looked up at him and shrugged. “What? Just because you two enjoy eating cold eggs doesn’t mean I do.” 

Robert sat, sighed, and rolled his eyes while Mulligan laughed loudly. Robert focused on a silent prayer over his food before he started to eat. The eggs were cold. 

“So,” Samuel said so casually that it set Robert on edge. “I want to extend another invitation. We would love to have you come visit us again.”

“I would be honored,” Mulligan said. “Robert and I were just discussing it actually.” 

“Were you?” Samuel asked, turning to Robert with a smile. 

“Yes,” Robert said, forcing himself not to blush. He felt as if he’d been caught doing something horribly embarrassing when really he’d just invited a friend to come back for dinner if he liked. That’s all Mulligan was, he reminded himself, a friend. 

Samuel turned back to Mulligan with a frown. “We do understand that it’s a long ride out though.” 

“Oh, it does me good. Fresh air can be hard to come by in the city.” 

Samuel laughed, patting Mulligan on the shoulder as he stood to get something to drink. “That I won’t argue with.” The moment made Robert’s heart warm. He loved his father and to see him take so quickly to Mulligan and Mulligan to take to him felt like a relief. Friends Robert reminded himself. He was happy because he didn’t have a lot of friends and he wanted his father to like his friends. Nothing more. 

“I’ll have to make sure the shop survived my absence before I make any plans or promises but I am happy to return as long as I am welcome,” Mulligan said, winking at Robert. 

“We aren’t in the habit of rescinding invitations,” Robert said evenly, like it was a challenge. 

Mulligan continued to grin. “Lucky me.” He held his gaze for a moment longer before he turned back to Samuel who was sitting back down with a fresh cup. “After all, your father owes me a game of draughts. Someone has to show me how to beat you if I’m ever to stand a chance.” 

Samuel put his hands up. “I’m afraid that chance has passed. His mother taught him and I never won a game against her that she didn’t let me win.” He was laughing and smiling but Robert could see that he was remembering the same moments he was. She had taught him how to play at that very table, at least one game a day all the way right up until the end. She’d laughed the first time he won, high pitched and delighted. Robert looked to his father who was smiling sadly at him.

“Perhaps you can ask Mr. Rivington,” Robert said, trying to salvage the morning and escape that sad smile. “He won one or two games.” 

“And how many games did you two play together?” Mulligan asked, his own smile a little strained as well. 

“More than two.” 

Samuel and Mulligan both laughed. “I’ll have to take any help I can get.” 

**

A week later a letter arrived, addressed to Robert. 

“Dearest Robert,

I’m sure you’ll detest the greeting of dearest but I couldn’t resist. Forgive me. 

All is well here. The shop managed to survive. I think my new assistant Johnathan preferred when I was away. I’m likely a menace to the poor child but he has too much to learn. He’ll have to suffer me. All this to say I would love to visit again next Thursday. I’ll have to leave early since I have a meeting with a vendor on Friday in the afternoon for some new cloth. I’d love to see you both before the Christmas season starts and I’m unable to leave the shop for anything that isn’t a party filled with people far less interesting than you. 

Write to me and tell me if you can spare the evening to spend with the likes of me. 

Give your father my best. 

- Hercules

P.S. I did talk to James and I think I’ll have you in our next game. 

Robert wrote back immediately, much to his embarrassment. 

“Mr. Mulligan,

I forgive you for your choice of greeting. It seems very in character for you to pick one such as that. You seem to enjoy pushing just to see what you can get away with. 

I’m happy to hear that the shop survived. I had no doubt as it seems unlikely to burn just because your back is turned. Training an apprentice is hard work, be patient with him. 

We’d be delighted to have you over again on Thursday. 

My father says to tell you he found the book of poetry that you were discussing last week. 

If you are so confident in the advice James gave you maybe you should decide the stakes of our next game. 

Your Friend, 

Robert Townsend

***

Robert flexed his numb fingers, trying to get some feeling back in them as he piled more logs into the basket. He was anxious to get back inside but they’d been running low on firewood and it was barely nightfall and needs must. He’d heard Mulligan ride up a few minutes before and his father helping to show him out to the barn. 

Finally, the basket was full and Robert was able to go back inside.

In the house, Mulligan was standing by the fire warming up his fingers. He smiled wide and bright when he saw Robert. Samuel was humming in the kitchen. 

“Mr. Mulligan,” Robert said, crossing the room to set the wood next to the fireplace, coincidently bringing him close to Mulligan. 

“What am I going to have to do to get you to call me Hercules? Even in your letter you were so formal. That wounded me, Robert. Would you prefer I call you Mr. Townsend?” Mulligan said with a laugh, taking his hand just long enough to make Robert’s heart stop before he let it go. 

Robert narrowed his eyes. “Very well, Hercules.”

Instead of smiling as expected, Mulligan’s eyes went wide and he coughed. “Wasn’t so hard was it?” 

“There you are,” Samuel interrupted before Robert could answer. He was carrying the roast he’d spent most of the week fretting over. 

“Yes. I was getting firewood as you asked,” Robert said, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes at his father who made it sound as if he’d been lost at sea. 

“Yes, yes. Dinner’s read. Come, sit,” Samuel said as he set the platter down on the table. He sat at the head of the table with Robert and Mulligan finding their places on either side. They all joined hands for grace and bowed their heads. Samuel led the prayer as he had the last dinner they had shared. 

Robert’s eyes shot open when he felt Mulligan’s thumb brush over his knuckles softly. He kept his head down and managed not to kick Mulligan under the table, mostly out of fear that he’d hit his father on accident. Instead, he squeezed Mulligan’s hand tighter and hoped that the message was clear. Mulligan did stop and instead squeezed Robert’s hand back in acknowledgment. 

Finally, Samuel said “Amen” and Robert was able to take his hand back. He could still feel where Mulligan’s thumb had run over his knuckles. It felt like he was on fire. When he looked back up at him Mulligan smiled, though it looked more like a grimace. Apologetic even. 

Robert decided to forgive him. It wasn’t like he had meant anything by it. It was a mindless gesture. It wasn’t Mulligan’s fault Robert struggled to breathe anytime he touched him. 

“How have you been these past weeks, Samuel? Robert was very short on the details in his letter,” Mulligan asked suddenly, turning to Samuel as they ate. 

“Robert,” his father scolded, though he was laughing. 

“What? Nothing of note had happened,” he defended. 

His father tsked. “Well, not particularly. But…” his father continued weaving a story about the neighbors who had visited last Sunday. Robert found it quite boring and would have been embarrassed about Samuel showing how boring they were compared to Mulligan’s own vibrant life if the man himself weren’t joking and listening as if he really was enjoying himself. Occasionally, he’d cast a glance at Robert as if making a silent comment, only for Robert. 

Robert found himself watching Mulligan, waiting for the next smirk or wink or arch of an eyebrow that was just for Robert. Each one made him feel warm and special and filled him with a want for something he couldn’t identify. It was also dangerous and selfish. Unfortunately, the shame wasn’t able to smother the pleasant warmth, try as Robert might. 

After dinner, Samuel disappeared to go find the book he and Mulligan had been discussing. It hadn’t sounded urgent to Robert that the book be found immediately but Samuel had been long gone before Robert could question him. Mulligan just shrugged and helped carry the dishes into the kitchen. 

Robert put a pot of water on the stove to heat up and put the little bit of food that was leftover into the icebox, likely to be used in a stew the next day. He turned to see that Mulligan had shed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. 

The sight brought Robert up short and the room was suddenly hotter. He had to cough twice to get rid of the lump that had formed in his throat as he removed his own jacket and tried to get his heartbeat back under control. Mulligan did a much more graceful job of staring as Robert rolled up his sleeves, still unable to look at Mulligan. 

They stood shoulder to shoulder, Robert scrubbing the dishes in the hot water and then handing them to Mulligan to be dried. It was silent and peaceful as they worked, though Robert strained to hear where in the house his father had hidden himself. 

“James sends his regards,” Mulligan said after a long while of silence. 

“Does he?” Robert asked. He supposed Rivington couldn't exactly tell Mulligan why it was that he no longer liked Robert and acting friendly might have just been the easiest thing to do. Still, it seemed odd. 

“He doesn’t hate you as much as you seem to assume he does,” Mulligan said softly. “He’s a man of principle. You did what you did because of your own principles. He understands that.” 

Robert sighed, tired down to his bones. “He did nothing but try to be my friend and I betrayed his trust.” 

“James is a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them. I’d wager he knew; some part of him at least.” 

“That’s worse,” Robert ground out, his jaw clenched tight. “That means he suspected me and yet he chose to believe I was his friend. And I betrayed that choice to trust me instead of blind foolishness.” 

Mulligan sighed. “I don’t think he thinks that. For a while he might have but not after the soldiers came.”

“So they did come for him,” Robert said quietly.

“You knew they would. It’s why you broke that window. Oh, he ranted and raved about ‘hooligans’ who had broken his window in the dead of night the whole day. He was furious.” Mulligan laughed, put the rag over his shoulder, and brushed his hair out of his face. “But the soldiers arrived and he had everyone in the bar as a witness that the basement had been broken into. Everyone remembered because he was so damn obnoxious about that window. It was blamed on spies, not on him. He knows what you did. He knows that you did what you could to protect both of you.” 

“I could have been doing it only to protect myself,” Robert argued. 

“Did you?” 

Robert didn’t have an answer for that. The problem was that Robert didn’t know. When he’d done it it’d been a half-formed thought, just a hope that it would keep the English looking elsewhere. He didn’t know if he had done it to protect his father, or himself, or James. He was just relieved it had worked. 

“It can be both,” Mulligan said, whisper-quiet. 

“No, it can’t.”

“But you don’t have a single answer,” Mulligan shot back, clearly pleased that he had bested Robert with his own logic. “You have three answers.” 

Robert rolled his eyes. “Are you always this obstinate?” 

“So I’ve been told.” 

Robert turned back to the wash pot, suddenly realizing that he’d been so wrapped up in his conversation with Mulligan that he’d lost track of what he had been meant to be doing. It seemed like that was becoming a bit of a pattern. 

“Maybe you can afford yourself a bit of forgiveness. He’s already forgiven you.” Robert could still feel his gaze, hot and unwavering. 

“Has he told you that he forgives me?” Robert asked. 

Mulligan sighed, clearly hearing what was coming next. “To be fair as far as he’s concerned I don’t know that you need forgiving.” 

“So no. He hasn’t.” 

“I think I know my friend well enough to know when he’s holding a grudge or not.” 

“Not really the same thing is it?” Robert asked, handing Mulligan the last dish to be dried. 

Mulligan just stared at him for a moment, looking disappointed and maybe a little sad. “I suppose not.” 

They finished working in silence. Robert almost felt bad. Mulligan had just been trying to make him feel better, maybe even heal a wound that Robert hid from everyone, a wound he pretended didn’t exist. But Robert had shut him down and now Mulligan kept his head down and his mouth shut. 

When they were done they went back to the living room where Samuel was sitting in his chair with a candle next to him, flipping through the book of poems he had disappeared to find half an hour ago. The second before they passed into Samuel’s line of sight though, Mulligan plastered on a smile and shook his head. “Did you know your son is a menace to debate with?” 

Samuel laughed. “Why do you think I enjoy having you here? That way he can debate with you and I can enjoy it from the sidelines!” They laughed together and Robert rolled his eyes to cover the swelling fondness in his chest. He settled on the end of the couch closest to the fire so he could read by the light, just as he had the last time Mulligan was there. 

Mulligan settled into the chair next to Samuel, producing a pouch and started to pull thread and a round bit of wood out. “I hope you don’t mind. It’s just something to keep my hands busy,” Mulligan said, holding the items up for Samuel to see. 

“Of course not! Are you making buttons?

“Yes,” Mulligan said with a sigh, shaking his head. “With Christmas coming I have many orders for new jackets so that everyone may be dressed in their finest at the first parties of the first Christmas season since the war. And they all require buttons,” Mulligan explained as he started to wrap the thread around the mold, his head bent and his eyes fixed down intently. He was frowning just a touch and his hair was tucked behind one ear to keep it out of his face. He was breathtakingly beautiful, Robert thought wildly, he couldn’t help but stare. Mulligan’s hands moved smoothly, sure and in perfect harmony with each other and the materials. It was mesmerizing. 

Without warning, Mulligan’s eyes flickered up to Robert and the focused frown turned into a soft smile, barely there. Robert would have blamed it on a trick of the light if it hadn't been for the wink before he turned to Samuel. 

Robert burned. He stared down at the book in front of him with his jaw clenched tight, willing himself to focus. His hands were shaking slightly and he gripped the book tighter to hide it. He was a fool; a fool with no self-control. Hercules showed a bit of quiet focus and all of his carefully crafted walls just vanished? They didn’t even crumble or fall, as Hercules had an annoying habit of making happen. No, they had vanished as if they’d never been there. As if they hadn’t been keeping him safe for years.  

He focused on the book and after a while, he was able to breathe again. The conversation around him flitted in and out of his mind. Shame still burned hot in the back of his mind but he managed to focus on the book and right then that was important. If he could make himself focus on the book right then he could sort himself out later. 

Hours passed, Robert relaxed, and the conversation around him and turned mostly into the two men reciting their favorite poems back and forth. Most were about the war but every once in a while one of them would recite one about breathtaking landscape or the goodness of God. Robert sometimes stopped and listened but mostly he let it filter by, the voices becoming a soothing background noise. 

“Tell me, my heart, if this be love?” 

Robert tuned in as Mulligan was in the middle of reciting another poem. He was starting another button and his eyes were fixed down. Robert looked back down at the book but didn’t bother trying to read it, he just listened. 

“Whene’er she speaks, my ravish’d ear. No other voice than hers can hear, no other wit but hers approve. Tell me, my heart, if this be love? 

“If she some other youth commend, though I was once his fondest friend, his instant enemy I prove. Tell me, my heart, if this be love?

“When she is absent, I no more delight in all that pleased before the clearest spring or shadiest grove: tell me my heart if this be love?

“When fond of power, of beauty vain her nets she spread for every swain, I strove to hate but vainly strove: tell me, my heart, if this be love?”

For a moment, the house was still. The crackling of the fire and the ticking of the clock were the only sounds. Samuel broke the silence. 

“It’s beautiful, but melancholy. It’s almost sad.” 

“How so?” Mulligan asked. 

“To have that dedication and still be unsure. Being so lost in your own feelings and yet feeling them so deeply. It’s sad,” Samuel explained. 

“Not necessarily,” Robert said before he could stop himself. When he looked up both men were watching him, waiting. “It might not be confusion, but reluctance. It’s a love they wish they didn’t feel. They aren’t confused they just wish they didn’t feel this way. It frightens them.”

Samuel was frowning at Robert, not angry just deeply sad. Robert didn’t have the courage to look at Mulligan. He was too unsure of what he’d see.

“That’s sadder,” Mulligan said. “It seems more to be a person that does know their own feelings but they don’t know how the other would react to such a strong declaration. They cover it with the questions to give themselves that deniability.” 

“How is that any less sad than what I said?” Robert shot back. “To be afraid of the one you love would be dreadful.” 

“The fear comes not from the person themselves but from the uncertainty. And uncertainly has room for hope.” Mulligan waved one hand as if clearing the air. “Fear of your own emotions and desires is a fear of one's self and that leaves no room for hope.” 

Robert opened his mouth to argue but stopped short when Samuel stood. “Where are you going?” 

“To bed. This is a young man’s debate,” Samuel said with a laugh. “I’ll see you both in the morning.” 

He grabbed the candle that had been between him and Mulligan and started up the stairs. They each sat still until the door shut upstairs, then Mulligan leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees. “Did I misstep?” 

“No. Why would you think that?” Robert asked, raising an eyebrow.

“What he said about it being a young man's debate I worry I may have brought up some unpleasant feelings regarding your mother. I didn’t mean to, of course. I had reread the poem recently and-”

Robert shook his head and cut him off. “No, no. He’s fine, I’m sure. He’s likely just -” Robert cut himself off when he realized he couldn't tell Mulligan his true suspicions. He’d never see Mulligan if he did.

“Just what?” 

Robert waved his hand to try and make it clear how absurd he found it. “He likely hopes that you’ll win this debate and convince me to fall in love with the next person who smiles at me.” 

“I’ll do my best.” Mulligan laughed and looked to the button half-finished in his hand, squinting at it in the low light. He was quite far from the fire now. 

“You can come sit next to me...for the light...if you like,” Robert said, trying desperately not to show his nervousness. He was just offering to let his friend sit next to him for the light of the fire. There wasn’t anything to be nervous over. 

Mulligan smiled and gathered the pouch together, and moved. “Thank you.” He settled close to Robert, close enough that their elbows brushed with every movement and Robert had to angle his knees away to keep them from knocking into Mulligan’s. Mulligan went back to wrapping the thread around the wooden disk. 

Robert tried to focus on his book but his eyes kept drifting back to Mulligan’s hands. He tried to be subtle and even turned the page once before reading it just to cover his fascination. 

“I can teach you, if you like,” Mulligan said. Robert flushed but when Mulligan looked up at him he looked genuinely pleased. 

 “I’d hate to ruin your work or waste your thread. No doubt your customers expect the best, not the work of an amateur.” 

“Nonsense. If you’re so concerned with supplies though, I can inspect your work before you cut the thread. If it’s terrible, which I sincerely doubt, I can unravel it and you can try again. No harm done.” 

Robert opened his mouth to say no but instead “Very well, show me,” came out.

Mulligan’s answering smile could have lit whole cities. He pulled out a pink roll of thick thread and a smaller round of wood that he handed to Robert. Then came the beeswax and the pencil. Mulligan continued digging around, muttering “I think I still have the guide. I haven’t used it in a while, but if I’m honest. It’s been a while since I’ve made my own buttons at all. AH!” He held up another little wooden circle with 4 marks on each side. He handed it to Robert. “Use the guide to mark the 4 sides so they are evenly placed.” He waited while Robert did. He felt silly, like a child, but even as Mulligan explained each step and its importance he didn't seem to lose his patience or his smile. 

“Here,” Hercules said, wrapping his hands around Roberts’. “This is what the tension should feel like. Too loose or too tight and it will unravel before you get done.” He looked up at Robert; maybe to see if he understood, or maybe to see if he was listening, or maybe to check on him since he must have noticed that Robert had stopped breathing. 

The problem was, now that he’d turned his head to look up at Robert, still leaning over and holding Robert’s hands at the right tension, he was even closer. Robert could see the little wrinkles at the corners of his eyes from smiling. He could make out faint freckles on his nose. He could see the reflection of the fire in his eyes that made them sparkle even more than normal. He could see the slight part of his lips that made Robert’s mouth dry. 

Mulligan’s smile had faded, his eyes just flitting across Robert’s face like he was searching or waiting. The thought of what he could be waiting for frightened Robert out of his stupor. “I see,” Robert said with a tiny nod. 

Mulligan pulled back and nodded, clearing his throat. “Good.” He picked up his own button that he had abandoned when he had started teaching Robert. “Wrap it in that square twice more and then you can insert the pin to help hold it together. Just be careful not to go through any of the threads.” 

Robert nodded and focused on the button. It was meditative and he tried not to notice or be embarrassed by how much more quickly Mulligan worked through his. It helped that every once in a while Mulligan would look over and say he was doing well or correct some small thing and then laugh about how many times he’d made that same mistake and he’d had to start over. All in all, it was nice. 

“I never had the opportunity to ask. How did you get wrapped up in spy-work? Aren’t you Quakers supposed to stay out of the war?”

“It is a long story.” 

Mulligan hummed in agreement. “You don’t have to tell it if you don’t want to.” 

Robert shook his head. “I don’t mind. The short version is I met Abraham who was already a spy and he tried to convince me to join his cause. When I refused he enlisted the help of Lieutenant Brewster to burn down our barn and attack my father while pretending to be Queen’s Rangers. By the time we learned it had actually been Continentals who had attacked us we were already involved.” 

Mulligan just hummed and kept his head down. 

Mulligan didn’t usually respond so quietly and it made him self-conscious. “It’s not a terribly interesting story,” Robert said quietly. He was never known for his storytelling ability. 

“No, it’s not that. It’s fascinating and someday you’ll have to tell me the long version, it seems as if there are more than a few parts of that story that you have left out,” Mulligan said with a smile that for some reason didn’t seem quite right. 

“Then what?” 

“I don’t have anything to say that you would be particularly interested in hearing.” Mulligan shrugged. 

“Shouldn’t I be the judge of that?” 

Mulligan’s hands stopped moving and his whole body seemed to tense. Robert wasn’t as polite as Mulligan, though, so instead of giving him an opportunity not to tell the story, he waited. “I don’t believe Caleb Brewster is a bad man. What he participated in, yes that was bad, but I don’t believe it is indicative of his larger truth.” 

Robert felt his blood go hot. He thought he’d buried that anger long ago when he had rejoined the ring. The rage felt fresh though, as if it had just been lying in wait. “What makes you so sure?” He spat out, no small amount of venom in his tone.

Mulligan sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Caleb Brewster was the right hand to the head of intelligence and yet you and I are alive. He was captured by Arnold at the same time I was. And Arnold... he let this monster, John Simcoe, carve him up. My father-in-law’s word. Carved. And yet you and I are alive. It was awful there, Robert. And someone was coming for me. My father-in-law was never going to let his son-in-law rot in jail an accused spy, taken by a turncoat so-called General. For that same reason, they didn’t inflict the damage on me that they did to the others and it was still awful. I…” Mulligan trailed off. His eyes were distant and his face was twisted like he was in pain. Robert set down his button, slowly, and reached out to place his hand over Mulligans’ which had begun to shake. 

Mulligan’s head snapped to the side and he stared at Robert for a moment. “I doubt Brewster thought anyone was coming for him. He’d probably thought he’d die in the basement of that prison.

“Carved. Carved and alone and yet he never told anyone about us just to make it stop. Just for a single moment of respite.” Mulligan took a deep shaking breath. “He may have done bad things but I cannot condemn him for them. Not when I’m uncertain about whether I would have done the same.” 

Robert didn’t know what to say. He didn't know what to do. Mulligan was clearly hurting and upset and Robert just wanted to make it stop. “You...make a compelling argument. I suppose that is a strong show of character. Having met John Simcoe I can only imagine the pain he inflicted. And even without such a man around it sound like a terrible ordeal. An ordeal that you survived without giving up me or Cato.” Robert squeezed his hand and hoped he'd said the right thing. Tact had never been his strong suit and he wasn’t sure he’d ever managed to successfully comfort his own father let alone someone else. 

“Not really the thing same, is it?” Mulligan asked, shaking his head. 

Robert suppressed his disappointment in himself. That was to be dealt with later. “I suppose not,” Robert conceded, taking his hand back. 

They finished their buttons together in near silence, the easy camaraderie gone now. Mulligan helped him tie off the thread and was very polite about the button despite even Robert being able to see the flaws. They both agreed to go to bed then. They didn’t say it had been a long night but Robert could feel it dragging on them both. 

Mulligan packed away the button supplies while Robert dealt with the fire and checked that all the doors were latched. He’d expected Mulligan to be halfway up the stairs by the time he was done but instead Mulligan was standing in the middle of the living room, waiting. 

“I’m sorry for ruining your night with my trip down memory lane,” he said with a laugh that felt wrong. 

“Don’t be absurd. You didn’t ruin anything. You being here is a gift that I greatly appreciate. You couldn't ruin it just by being honest. That’s ridiculous.” Robert started up the stairs without waiting for Mulligan to respond. Mulligan followed behind him, his footsteps softer than Robert’s up the stairs in the silent house. 

Robert stopped for a moment outside his door, waiting for Mulligan so that he could say goodnight properly. It reminded him of the last time Mulligan had visited. It reminded him of the way Mulligan had smiled at him that night. It reminded him of what he’d wanted that night; of what had left him breathless that night. 

“Goodnight, Robert. You’re a good friend,” Mulligan said, already opening his door. 

“Goodnight, Hercules. So are you.” 

Mulligan’s door clicked shut and Robert was alone and breathless again. 

Part 3

Winters were hard, but they were also boring. Robert didn’t complain, there were people who wouldn’t make it to see spring but there was only so much quiet reading even he could do before he started to tire of it. Privately he blamed Rivington for getting him so accustomed to the liveliness of the bar that he couldn’t enjoy his peaceful winter. It had nothing to do with him missing the city for months now or with the fact that Mulligan wouldn’t be visiting until after the new year.

On occasion they had other visitors or made their way out to call on neighbors, but as snow started to pile up everyone hunkered down at home and only left when absolutely necessary. They tried to keep busy. In addition to their prayers and bible readings Robert and Samuel played countless games of droughts, Samuel knit a new blanket for a family down the road which was expecting a baby in February, and Robert finally fixed the handle of a shovel that had split months ago.

But mostly they waited for spring.

In the spring the days were longer and the ice in his bones would thaw. He’d be able to eat fresh fruit again and there’d be work to keep his hands busy. He was looking forward to songbirds singing and the smell of flowers growing anew. It had nothing to do with the fact that Mulligan would be able to visit them again in the spring. Or that Robert would have excuses to go to the city and visit him. No, that had nothing to do with it.

It was mid-December and the snow was already up to his ankles when he went to the cellar. Along the edge of the house where were smaller indents in the snow that caught his eye. He sighed heavily, already considering how to fashion some more traps before he realized that the prints were far too large for rats and weren’t the right shape for a raccoon. They reminded him of cat prints but he hadn’t seen a cat get close to the house in years.

He heaved the cellar door open, it squeaking and clanking loudly as he did. As soon as he was down the steps he knew he wasn’t alone and his heart jumped into his throat. In his mind’s eye he could see Abraham or Brewster or any number of other spies waiting and wanting something. He didn’t want to turn around, hoping against reason that if he didn’t see them they’d leave him in peace.

He turned anyway and saw the eyes watching him, bright gold in the dim light. Not a spy but a cat staring up at him. It was dark grey that looked poise to either pounce or run but had frozen in indecision when Robert just stared back at him.

Slowly, so not to spook the animal, Robert pulled his knife from his pocket and sliced a chunk of pork off of a ham. Just as slowly, he crouched down and placed the meat between them on the ground and waited. The cat just stared at him but neither of them moved. It was small and looked thin even though it should have been round from a winter coat. And even if it had a proper winter coat and a healthy layer of fat to protect it the poor thing must have been cold.

Robert didn’t know how long he sat there in the cold waiting. The sun had moved to the other side of the house and the cellar was darker, though he could still see the cat clearly and that was what mattered. He waited and finally the animal took a halting step closer.

When Robert still didn’t move it took another step and then another, eyes still fixed on him.

Robert waited patiently for the cat to come closer, feeling a little thrill of accomplishment with every step.

Finally, the cat got close enough to stretch its neck and get at the meat. It turned fast with its reward in its mouth but Robert was faster. He got a grip on the scruff of its neck and picked it up holding it out so its claws couldn't reach him. It hissed, dropping the meat and tried to wiggle out of his grip as Robert knelt back down and picked up the ham with his free hand. It continued to fight him as he carried it up the steps and kicked the cellar door shut.

He managed to get back inside the house without being scratched.

“Robert?” Samuel asked and Robert could hear him making his way from the living room to the kitchen. “What took so long? Are you okay?”

“Please go ensure our bedroom doors are shut,” Robert yelled back instead of an answer.

“Why?” Samuel asked as he came around the corner. “Is that a cat?”

“It was in the cellar,” Robert said as his only explanation.

Samuel hesitated for a moment before he smiled. “Very well.”

Robert listened to his father go upstairs as he whispered to the cat. “No one’s going to to hurt you. If you relax for a moment I’ll pour you some milk and you can have the ham back.”

The cat hissed again.

“The doors are shut,” Samuel yelled down.

Robert set the cat down gently and was unsurprised when it took off running.

Samuel came back into the kitchen as Robert was looking for a shallow saucer. “I sent you out for carrots and you brought back a cat.”

Robert tried not to blush. “I’m sorry. I’ll go back out and -”

“No, you will not. Go sit by the fire, your fingers are blue and I don’t particularly want you to loose them,” Samuel said with a frown pushing gently at Robert’s shoulders.

“I’m fine,” Robert complained though his joints did feel stiff and the heat of the room was making his face and fingers burn.

“No, you’re not. Go. I’ll pour it some milk. Is this ham for it as well?”

“Yes.”

Samuel sighed and shook his head though he didn’t look disappointed.

Robert went to the living room and sat on the floor with his back to the fire. He couldn't see the cat and he couldn’t hear it either but he knew it was somewhere in the house warming up and about to have a nice meal. A few minute later, after the heat had started to seep in through his jacket Samuel came back into the living room.

“Have you named it yet?”

Robert fixed his father with a flat look. “It’s not a pet. It was just cold so I brought it inside to warm up.”

“And eat.”

“And eat.”

“It’s been a while since we’ve had a cat. It could be nice. Help keep the mice away at least.”

“You never liked Rocky,” Robert said. Rocky had been another cat he’d found outside and befriended. Robert had been seven and he’d spent every day of the summer in the loft of the barn bringing it scraps he’d saved in his napkin from lunch. Eventually it let him pet it and purred when Robert scratched behind its ears as it lazed in the sun.

That had been how his mother had found him, lying on his stomach scratching the top of Rocky’s head an arms length away as they laid in the setting sun.

Rocky had startled up at the sight of her and hid behind Robert. A few days later and Rocky had an official name and slept on Robert’s bed at night.

“I loved Rocky. Rocky didn’t like me,” Samuel argued.

Robert tried his best not to laugh. Rocky had warmed up to his mother but was always cold to his father. “That’s because you picked him up.”

“Once and he never forgave me. I said I was sorry,” Samuel said, shaking his head.

“He was a cat. He didn’t speak English.”

Samuel glared at him.

They lapsed into silence. Samuel went back to his pamphlet while Robert lost himself in memories of Rocky.

He’d been a very good cat, a smart one too. He’d left dead mice on the doorstep so many times everyone had stopped being surprised when they opened the front door in the morning. He’d liked Robert best and once stayed curled against Robert’s neck for a week when he’d caught a cold. But time went on and they’d all gotten older and Rocky started to demanded being carried more often than not, he’d caught fewer mice and slept in the sun even more.

Robert didn’t stop crying for days when they’d found Rocky’s body in the loft of the barn. He’d been 12, too old for that ind of outburst by far. But his mother had held him and cried with him and his father had dug a grave under a tree and planted flowers on top of it after the burial. Some nights, when Robert was feeling particular maudlin, he wondered if God had sent Rocky to him so he’d been better prepared when two years later his mother passed. It’d been much worse but at least he’d had his own mother’s prayers in his mind as he’d stood over her grave.

Faintly, Robert heard a noise coming from the kitchen. He and Samuel froze looking up at each other as they listed to the cat drink. A smile broke over Robert’s face as warmth spread through his chest. There was the sound of the plate scratching across the floor as the cat finished its drink.

“I also gave it its ham,” Samuel whispered as if they could spook the cat from the other room.

“Thank you.”

“But I will need to start dinner now that our friend has eaten.”

Robert pushed himself up off of the ground with a sigh, taking a moment to stretch. “I’ll go fetch the carrots and check on the animals.”

He hadn’t gotten the door open enough to even step through when a gray blur shot between his legs and outside. He paused for a half a second to watch the cat bound across the yard to the treeline, ignoring the ache in his chest at the sight.

**

Robert went downstairs the next morning already wrapped in his overcoat and gloves. It was early morning, the sun was just starting to come up but the animals needed feeding and someone to break the ice on their water troughs.

He turned into the kitchen where two large pots of water sat boiling on the stove and his father standing over the kettle. Robert pulled the sleeves down over his hands and was about to reach out and pick up the first pot when they heard a loud cry. They each froze looking at each other as if to confirm that they had both heard it.

The sound came again from the kitchen door, longer and more insistent that time. Robert went to the door and the little gray cat trotted inside, not even looking at Robert.

“I guess I’ll make our friend some breakfast as well,” Samuel said with a laugh. Robert shook his head and tried not to smile. He got the pot and Samuel followed him to the front door to open it for him.

Robert fed the animals, patting the ones who would come close enough after he’d poured the boiling water in their troughs to melt the ice. It hadn’t been their worst winter by far and he thought they’d still get everyone through it with the new barn. When he went back inside Samuel was already sitting at the table with a plate of eggs for each of them. On the floor there were two saucers with milk in one and eggs on another.

“You’ll spoil it,” Robert said after he’d said grace.

“Maybe. I’m making sure that this one likes me,” Samuel said with a shrug.

“We’re not keeping it.”

Samuel cocked his head to point at the cat that was staring at them. “He seems to disagree.”

After that they had a cat. Robert remained stubborn on the fact that they did not have a pet cat and that it was just spending a few hours at a time, including the night, in their house to warm up, but even he knew that would only last so long.

New Years day Robert came inside from breaking up the ice in the water troughs again to find Samuel in his chair talking to the cat in his lap. “You need a name. It’s past time. Should I just name you without asking Robert? I wanted him to name you but this is getting silly.”

“Are you done pretending you didn’t wait until I walked in to start this conversation with a cat who can’t answer you?” Robert asked as he warmed his fingers by the fire.

“Are you going to name this cat?” Samuel asked, scratching the top of head. It hadn’t taken long for the cat to warm up to Samuel. It probably had something to do with the fact that Samuel was always the one to feed him and he wasn’t the one who had picked up him by the scruff to bring him inside in the first place. Robert told himself it didn’t bother him.

“No.”

“Fine. I’ll name him.” He looked down at the cat and spoke in a high pitched voice. “How about Abraham? Do you like the name Abraham?”

“You’re not naming him Abraham.”

Samuel continued. “Or what about Tree?”

“That’s not a name.”

“Or Caleb.”

“No,” Robert said though he was on the verge of laughing. That was the problem with his father’s antics, they were almost always at least a little funny.

“Chipmunk? Dirt?”

“Fine.” He let out a heavy sigh. “How about James?” he said, trying to sound as if he’d never thought about it before. He’d thought about it a lot. It was stupid name, he knew that and one day if the cat stuck around Robert would have to explain it to Hercules, but he’d thought of it a week ago when it had been staring at him from across the room and he hadn’t been able to get it out of his head.

“As in Mr. Rivington?”

Robert blushed. “There are a lot of people named James.”

Samuel smiled up at him. “There are.” He turned back to the cat and talked in a high pitched voice. “Do you like the name James? Are you named James?”

The cat did not move.

Time marched on, the weather stayed cold, and James finally started to warm up to Robert. Most days that meant perching on the back of the couch where Robert was sitting and snoring in his ear. Robert pretended to mind much more than he did.

It was two weeks into the new year when a messenger arrived with a letter addressed to Robert, sealed with red wax imprinted with an M. He broke the seal alone in the kitchen trying not to feel like a child hiding while eating a cookie he wasn’t meant to have.

/Dear Robert,

Forgive me for not writing sooner. This letter has been sitting on my desk taunting me for not having the time to write and for having nothing of particular interest to say. I know you detest the frivolity of parties and that seems to be all I’ve done for weeks in between working, which is rarely exciting these days. I won’t bore you with either kind of story.

I do miss you terribly, and your father as well of course. And if it is not too forward to invite myself I hoped I could come visit you soon. If not I will survive but only if you write back and tell me how you’ve been fairing these weeks.

Yours,

Hercules

P.S. James sends his love and wishes you and your father a Merry Christmas and a happy New Year. He hasn’t forgotten about the one Thanksgiving you had and has decided to wish you a happy holiday on the off chance you’re celebrating it. He also said to tell you that you’re absurd and he forgave you before you had even left the city. /

He blinked hard twice to clear away the tears in his eyes. Behind him the kettle whistled and he took the time to make their coffees to reign in his emotions. He folded the letter back up carefully and slipped it into his pocket before he went back to the living room.

He handed one mug to his father and then stopped by the fire for a moment to scratch James behind the ears. James meowed unhappily and batted at his hand before settling back down to sleep some more.

“Mr. Mulligan has asked if he can come and visit again,” Robert said, evenly.

“Oh, good. I’ve missed having him around,” Samuel said, smiling into his coffee. “Haven’t you?”

“I suppose the days when he visits are marginally more interesting than the days he doesn’t,” Robert said carefully.

“Marginally,” Samuel said, unimpressed with Robert’s assessment.

Robert wrote his reply that night in the privacy of his own room where his father couldn’t see his blush as he wrote.

/Dear Mr. Mulligan,

You need not ask for forgiveness for not writing sooner. You are a busy man. And I cannot begrudge your friends for wanting your company when you have spent so much of your free time here instead of at dinner with them in the city. I can understand their feelings. We have missed your company here as well and would be happy to host you again. You are always welcome here as long as you can find the time.

I shall expect you to bring the stories of those parties and work that you left out of your letter, though. I doubt they would bore us at all. On the contrary, you have a talent for making even what should be dreadfully boring worth hearing.

You may tell Mr. Rivington that we did not mark the passing of Christmas or the New Year but we do hope he enjoyed his festivities. And we hope you did as well.

Yours,

Robert/

**

*It was warm in his room, but there was a cool breeze that came through the windows. The room was filled with soft candle light that flickered across Hercules’s smiling face as he looked up at Robert. His auburn hair was fanned across the pillow and it was soft when Robert ran his fingers through it. “Robert,” he whispered, grasping at Robert’s arm suddenly, his eyes closing and biting his lip.

He wrapped his naked legs around Robert’s waist, keeping them together as Robert ducked down and kissed him. Robert moaned into the kiss, feeling as if his whole body was on fire. “Please,” Hercules whispered between kisses. Robert didn’t know what he was asking for but he knew that he would give it. *

Robert snapped awake. It was dark and cold in his room and he was hard and alone. It only took a moment for the shame to build up in his throat and for him to kneel next to the bed and pray. Even when his fingers and toes went numb, and his knees ached he still couldn’t forget the fantom sensation of Hercules wrapped around him. He stayed there praying until dawn.

In the early morning light, with the sky still gray, he got dressed and headed downstairs. His father was still asleep so he was quiet as he fed the fire in the stove and went out the door to check the animals. Everyone was alive and well, ate their early morning breakfast happily. For a movement he stared at the empty stall where they had put Hercules’s horse when he visited, only to have the dream flash before his eyes again.

He flinched away as if the image were not in his own mind.

It was stupid. He’d been harboring these feelings for months and had done nothing to shun them, but now he shied away from them? Now that he had seen what it was that he wanted, created by his own mind, he truly considered what it meant?

He was back inside and starting breakfast for himself when his father came downstairs, James trotting ahead of him. “You look terrible.”

“Good morning to you too,” Robert said.

“Are you feeling alright?” Samuel asked, putting a hand to Robert’s forehead.

“I’m fine.” Robert pulled away from him. “I just didn’t sleep well. That’s all.”

“Maybe you should go lay down for a bit.”

“No,” Robert snapped.

“Nightmares?”

Robert frowned and stirred the eggs. Nightmares he could handle, this he couldn’t.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“You can’t bury this. These things, they tend to fester.” He put a hand on Robert’s shoulder but Robert just scooped the eggs onto a plate.

“Eat.”

“Robert,” he said, grabbing him more firmly and turning him towards him. Samuel stared up at Robert for a long time, frowning. “Whatever it was, you’re safe.”

Robert thought of the letter he’d posted the day before and wasn’t so sure.

**

Hercules arrived on a Thursday night when the snow was starting to melt. He was in pink and smiling wide as he greeted them both, hugging Samuel and trying to pat Robert on the shoulder only to have him flinch away.

Mulligan pulled his hand back as if he’d been burned. “How have you two been?” he asked, his smile confused. They were barely inside the front door, standing awkwardly in the small area.

“Oh good, good,” Samuel said, smiling wide. “The soup’s done, Robert, will you get it from the stove?”

Robert nodded. “Of course.” He left their little huddle and grabbed the bowls from the dining table. He could hear Mulligan and his father whispering in the doorway still. It wasn’t hard to guess at what it was they were talking about.

It’d been two weeks since Robert’s first dream of Hercules and he was barely sleeping. The dreams were repeating, different but always the same in the way that mattered. He’d wake from them with the heat of desire and the ice of shame sitting like rocks in his gut. He’d get on his knees to pray until dawn, begging for guidance, or forgiveness, or anything to release him from this cycle. At this point he’d stopped sleeping for anything more than a few minutes on the couch. He could barely look at his own bed.

The dreams were far from the worst of it, though. Because after the dreams and between the prayers his mind would wander again. He’d wonder for a moment what it would be like to have Hercules care for him the way he did in his dreams. He wondered, for just a few fleeting moments what it would be like to be held and kissed and to be Hercules’s beloved, but this wasn’t the worst either.

The worst moments were when he tossed aside God’s judgement and put Hercules’s happiness before it. He’d ignore all that he held dear, the foundation on which he built his life and instead concerned himself with the happiness of one man. Because even if God allowed such acts, Hercules still would not love him because Robert was too much himself and he knew it.

The worst thing, his biggest sin, was that the knowledge that he wanted Hercules but was not wanted in return was what broke him, not his actual moral failing.

When he came back into the dining room with the three bowls balanced, his father and Mulligan were already sitting at the table silently, waiting. When they were all settled and they had prayed over their food, their hands kept to themselves this time Hercules looked back to him again. “And you, Robert. How has winter treated you?”

“Well,” Robert said, staring into his soup. He was certain that if he looked up Samuel and Hercules would be looking at each other.

“Good,” Hercules said, trailing off into silence for a moment. “I don’t know how you two manage it. If I had to be out here all alone I’d go mad.”

Robert swallowed hard. “I know.”

“Though I felt like I was going mad at home this year and I was being dragged all over the city to parties. So maybe it’s something else. Maybe I just miss seeing the sun for more than an hour a day.”

Samuel stayed silent so Robert was forced to answer, too late and stilted to make a decent conversation. “Possibly.”

For a while Hercules gave up and they ate in quiet though not in peace. He could feel Hercules and his father staring at him, they’d had no problem carrying on a conversation without him before but now they were just waiting for him to crack. He could feel their worry pouring over him, grating on him until he wanted to scream.

After they had finished their food Robert took the dishes to the kitchen and hoped that his father and Mulligan would conspire in the living room while they let him wash the dishes alone so he could get a better handle on his emotions. He was not so lucky and a few minutes after he had disappeared by himself to clean Mulligan joined him.

“You’re a guest,” Robert said, a final bid for peace. “You should go sit by the fire with my father. I’m sure you have much to catch up on with him.”

“Just because I’m a guest doesn’t mean I can’t help a little,” he said as he shed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. “You two feed and house me whenever I come out and all I bring in exchange is stories of James singing a song he only remembered half the lyrics to while he danced around his sitting room on New Years Eve.”

“You’re a guest. We don’t need anything, even stories of James acting foolish,” Robert argued. He took a deep breath and turned to face Mulligan fully. He forced himself to give a small smile and use the same voice he did whenever he had shooed Rivington away during work. “Please, go sit and be comfortable, it couldn’t have been an easy ride in the cold.”

For a moment Mulligan looked as if he’d been struck, staring at Robert with wide eyes and a frown. “No. I’m going to help you with the dishes and then we can go sit together.”

Robert gritted his teeth and braced himself against the wave of conflicting emotions inside of him. A part of him was angry and embarrassed that Mulligan was pushing back. It was hard enough to draw these boundaries without them being challenged at every turn. He needed these boundaries, he needed space and air so that he could remember that Hercules did not want him the way Robert had dreamed. That he shouldn’t.

But against that anger and embarrassment there was a pleased part of him that relished in Hercules wanting to be around him. That part of him wanted to conceded so that maybe Hercules would calm his fears that Robert was not wanted.

Robert turned back to the wash basin and continued to clean, handing the dishes to Mulligan to dry in silence.

“I saw James, the cat not the man. Though I did see the man before I headed out. He says hello by the way. He’s very cute, the cat.”

Robert hummed.

Mulligan allowed them to work in silence for a while, maybe hoping for an answer or maybe just resigning himself to his fate of being ignored. “You must like animals. You seem to take a great joy in caring for them, whenever I have seen you.”

“They are in my care. They are reliant on me.”

“You say that as if it were simple, as if there are not a thousand people who would argue that God granted us dominion over animals and so we can do as we like,” Mulligan said and it was Robert’s turn to recognize old tricks. Bait: pure, simple and infuriating.

“They are wrong,” Robert said, with no intention of elaborating. If he could spot bait he could avoid it.

Hercules went quiet again and they were allowed to finish the work in silence. But when they were done, and Robert was heading out of the kitchen, not quite fleeing, Hercules grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

A pleasant heat ran through him at the contact but he pulled his hand away as if it burned, as if he didn’t want those hands all over him. “Do not touch me.”

“Robert, tell me what’s wrong, please?”

“Nothing is wrong.” He walked out of the room, Hercules only a step behind him. “I’m going to bed, I’m very sorry, Mr. Mulligan, but I’m very tired, hopefully I will be able to see you before you set off in the morning.”

“Robert,” his father said, but Robert was already turning up the stairs to his room.

“I’m sorry,” was the last thing he heard before the door shut behind him. Hercules apologizing for Robert’s bad behavior.

He didn’t sleep any more than he had the last two weeks.

**

The next morning Robert rose early almost beating the sun to the barn. He fed the animals and broke up the frozen troughs as he did every morning, but stayed a little longer in the barn than he might usually have. He leaned against the wall and stretched out his arm to pet his horse on the nose for a while, soothed by the blankness of the eyes that stared back at him.

She didn’t care about Robert’s inner turmoil or how it was spilling out into the rest of the world. She didn’t care that in the house there was probably a hushed conversation happening over half cooked eggs. She was just happy that he fed her and brought her water and took the time to pet her.

The barn door creaked open behind him and Robert prayed that it was just the wind. He knew he was wrong, he could feel the change in the air that happened whenever Mulligan was in the room.

“I don’t know what I did,” Hercules said quietly, shutting the barn door and the cold wind out.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do. You’ve never been particularly good at playing stupid, please don’t try now.”

Robert took a deep breath and turned to him. It seemed he would not be getting out of this without some confrontation.

“What did I do?”

“You didn’t do anything.”

“Feels as if I did. You have never been so cold to me as you were last night so I wonder, did I give myself away too much in my last letter?” Mulligan took a step towards him, slowly. “Did I say the wrong thing? Did I push too far?” Another step and another until he was standing right in front of Robert.

“Push too far towards what?”

“I thought you weren’t going to play stupid.”

“I’m not,” Robert snapped. “I know that you’re pushing but towards what I do not know.”

Mulligan stared at him for a long time and then shook his head. “I thought it was what you wanted to. And I’m usually a decent judge of that, but we’re all wrong every once in a while.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really? Then what did I do? What did I write? What did you hear? What is my crime?”

Robert looked away, unable to fight off the waves of emotions in his chest while looking at Hercules pleading with him. His head and his heart ached in tandem and he just wanted peace.

Mulligan would not let him have it, he took half a step and had a hand reaching for Robert, his mouth open to argue some more but Robert didn’t let him. He took a step forward, grabbed him by the sides of his face and smashed their mouths together in an uncomfortable approximation of a kiss. Hercules’s hand came up and held his arm tight, as if holding him in place while he kissed back.

As soon as Robert registered the feeling of the fingers digging into his arm gently and the soft push of Hercules trying to get closer he threw them apart, stumbling back and rubbing at his lips in hopes that it would take the tingling feeling away. “Is that what you wanted?”

Hercules stared at him for a long moment, dazed before he nodded. “But only if you want it too.”

Robert wanted to laugh or cry, but he wasn’t sure which. “And if I don’t?”

“I have no desire to be with someone who does not desire me in return,” Mulligan said, putting his hands up in surrender. Robert felt a flash of irritation though he couldn’t have said if it was at Mulligan or at himself.

At Mulligan for not recognizing that it wasn’t that Robert didn’t desire him but that he knew that Hercules did not feel the way he thought he did, not truly. And at himself for not being able to enjoy the temporary happiness while it lasted. Instead of saying so Robert stayed silent, staring slightly to the left of Mulligan’s shoulder.

Mulligan stared at him for a long time before nodding. “I should leave.”

Robert opened his mouth, unsure if it was to agree or disagree. Instead of either nothing came out.

Mulligan nodded once then walked out of the barn. Robert listened closely and heard the front door of the house open and shut again. For three deep breaths he controlled himself, kept himself still in the middle of the barn. On his forth exhale he broke, buried his fingers in his hair, squeezed his eyes shut, and let out a broken desperate sound from deep in his chest. Another shaky breath and he forced himself to relax, and then another and he opened his eyes.

He wouldn’t see Hercules again; the next hour was clear in his mind’s eye. He’d stay out in the barn for a few more minutes and then go pull water from the well and make sure it hadn’t frozen solid and then go collect more firewood. By the time he was back inside Hercules would have slipped past him to get his horse. They wouldn’t speak again. There’d be no more letters and Robert wouldn’t stop by the shop when he was in the city. There’d be no more distracting desire, there’d be no more friendship either. Robert would be alone again, as he’d wanted.

He lifted his head high with another deep breath. <i>And just like that</i> he told himself <i> I’ve returned to sanity</i>.

**

Samuel had not returned to sanity. By the time Robert returned to the house with an armful of wood Mulligan was gone and Samuel had settled into deep disappointment. Robert told himself that it was no matter, Samuel had spent a great deal of time disappointed in Robert for his lack of true friends.

The only difference was that this time it didn’t soften into sadness an hour later. This time Samuel’s disappointment was palpable in the house for days. He barely spoke to Robert, having decided that James the cat was a better companion than his human son.

On the eighth day of near silence Robert lost his nerve. “What would you have had me do?” he snapped over a silent breakfast.

“I would have liked for you to not act like a coward, afraid of his own shadow,” Samuel snapped back.

For half a beat Robert was taken aback. “Do you know what you’re talking about?”

“I have known what this was about since you were a child, barely ten years old and looking at Peter Robinson like he hung the moon,” Samuel said, anger still bright in his eyes.

“What about a fear of God?”

“God made you this way. You have no more control of your nature than you do the color of your eyes.”

“How can you presume to know that it was God and not the devil who planted these...feelings,” Robert said waving around his hand at the word “feelings”. It seemed too small of a word for the situation, yet also too large.

“Because the devil knows nothing of love. He may know everything of lust and temptation but not a thing of love,” Samuel said, voice firm and steady in his convictions.

“No one said anything about love,” Robert countered. He had only thought the word in regards to Hercules once, right on the edge of sleep only a few days after his second visit. Robert hadn’t allowed himself to revisit that thought.

“<i>You</i> didn’t,” Samuel said, taking a bite of his eggs.

Robert could barely hear himself ask “Did Hercules?” past the rushing of blood in his ears.

Samuel shook his head. “Hercules is a careful man who would never do anything to put you at risk.”

“Then why would you think,” Robert started but was unable to finish the sentence. To say it out loud was too much.

“Because I am your father and you are my son.” His voice softened and he reached across the table to hold Robert’s hand. “I recognize the look on you face when you stare at him and think no one is looking. I recognize it because it was on my face every time I looked at your mother. You can lie to Hercules, you can lie to yourself, but you can’t lie to me.” The silence of the house seemed louder after he spoke and Robert held tight to his hand.

“It’s more than that,” Robert whispered, filled to the brim with shame. He had to explain it all so that maybe his father would understand why it had to be this way. Or maybe Robert was looking to be talked into another path. He didn’t know anymore, everything inside of him was constantly conflicting and he couldn’t keep track anymore. “It should have just been that but it wasn’t.”

“Then what? Are you afraid he didn’t return your feelings?”

“He made it clear that he did but…” Robert swallowed, trying to keep his voice from cracking. “How long would that have lasted? He’s so bright and loud and enjoys parties and excitement and I’m…”

“You’re you. You prefers plain clothes and quiet evenings and would rather sit in silence with your cat than mingle at a party,” Samuel said plainly.

Robert deflated. “Exactly,” he said, his voice sounding broken even to his own ears.

“Sometimes,” Samuel started slowly, patting his son’s hand on the table. “we have to trust that someone else knows what they want. Sometimes when someone tells us that they accept us for who we are we have to believe them. Especially if that person has never tried to change us.”

Intellectually, Robert could admit that he was right; sometimes you had to trust people, but it didn’t seem to apply here. “I want him to be happy,” Robert said after a long silence. “And I don’t think I can make him happy.”

Samuel laughed quietly, somewhere between a scoff and a snort. “Then you haven’t been paying very good attention.”

Robert spent the next half an hour mulling over his options and the half hour after that readying himself and his horse to travel to the city.

It was near dark by the time he arrived. The street lamp had been lit and as he made his way down the street he saw Rivington’s lit bright and packed as it should be. He caught a glimpse of the man himself sitting at a table with three other men talking animatedly. It made his heart warm and ache at the same time, but he had other apologies to make that night so he continued on until he reached Mulligan’s shop. There was still some light coming from inside.

He dismounted, and tied the horse to a post, mumbling a quiet reassurance and telling it to be good for just a little while. Then he turned towards the door, straightened the jacket that Hercules had made for him, took a deep breath, and went inside.

The bell above the door rang and a young man looked over from where he was putting away a bolt of fabric. “Hello, sir. How can I help you?”

“Is Mr. Mulligan here?”

“Yes, I’ll get-”

“I’m here,” Hercules said as he came out of the back. There was a smile on his face but it was cold and distant. It was a shock compared to the last time he’d been in the shop. “How can we be of service, Mr. Townsend?”

Robert glanced at the stranger in the room and was tempted to abandon his plan, to throw up his hands and say he had tried. “I was hoping to discus the possibility of having a new jacket made for my father.”

“Didn’t he just get a new jacket?”

“Yes. But he wants another. For parties. As you know, I haven’t attended many parties and was hoping you could lend you expertise in both parties and fashion.” He knew it was absurd and was a little embarrassed; he used to be better at lying.

Something in Hercules’s face softened. “Ah. Well we were just closing for the night. I can talk to you about it over a drink, though.”

“I would appreciate that.”

Mulligan clapped the young man on the shoulder and they went about their routine while Robert stood awkwardly by the front door, feeling as if he should be helping.

Ten minutes later and the three of them stepped out into the night. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Thomas. Good work today,” Hercules said as he was locking the front door.

“Thank you, sir,” he said before disappearing down the street.

Hercules turned to Robert, no smile fake or otherwise. “I assume you’re not actually here about a party jacket for your father?”

“Am I that bad of a liar?” Robert asked, trying to get a smile out of Mulligan. It didn’t work.

“Yes. Not sure how you could be given how we met,” Hercules said, watching Robert carefully.

“Well no one asked me if I was a spy for the continental army,” Robert said with a shrug.

This time he did laugh. “Someone should have told Arnold that he didn’t need to snatch people off the street and lock them in Bridewell. He just needed to ask.”

Robert laughed and looked at the ground.

“Come on. We can talk at my house,” Hercules said with a smile. “The girls will be gone for hours yet at a baby shower. We’ll be able to speak freely.”

Robert nodded and untied his horse. They walked the handful of blocks in silence. Robert had no idea how or if he should try to break it. Every time he looked at Hercules, he’d look back like he was expecting something and Robert lost his nerve.

When they got to the house Hercules took him to the carriage house in the back, opening the door wide and with a smile. “Your friend is here to visit,” he said to his own horse, giving it an affectionate pat while Robert put his horse in the stall next to it.

They went back out and to the house proper. Hercules unlocked the door and lead Robert through the dark house to the kitchen. “Not that I don’t appreciate the effort of making the ride,” he said as he crouched by the stove and lit a candle from the small fire still burning inside, before he tossed another log in. “But why are you here?”

“My father thinks I’m a coward,” Robert said, frowning at himself because he’d planned a whole speech on the way there and that was not how it started.

Hercules looked at him for a moment before shaking his head and turning to the kitchen counter. “I didn’t tell him anything. Do you want a sandwich?”

“Please. Can I help?”

“No. I can manage two sandwiches on my own.” He looked up and smiled at Robert though. “As you were saying?”

“Yes. I know you didn’t say anything to him. Unfortunately he didn’t need to be told. I am...not as subtle as I thought I was,” Robert said.

“Have me plenty confused,” Mulligan said, slicing ham with an intense focus.

“I know. And I’m sorry.”

Hercules sighed and put down the knife. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“I do. I-”

“You made a choice. You don’t ha-”

“It was the wrong choice.”

Hercules finally turned around.

Robert sighed. “My father is right. I didn’t say no because I don’t want you because I do.”

“That I could tell. You said no because you think it’s wrong,” Hercules said, sounding strained. He hung his head and even in the dim candle light he looked tired. “That God would never forgive you.”

“Some...convincing arguments have been made regarding that. However that wasn’t the whole truth.”

“Oh?” Hercules turned around and went back to making the sandwiches.

“Yes,” Robert said preparing himself for the possibility that this would end in his humiliation.

Hercules took the two plates and set them on the small table off to the side of the kitchen. “We can sit in the dining room if you’d rather,” he said when Robert hadn’t moved to sit next to him. “But there’s no fire in there.”

Robert shook his head and sat, their knees bumped under the table. “No, no. This is perfectly nice.”

Hercules raised his eyebrows in a silent request for Robert to continue.

“The whole truth of the matter is that...I don’t want you to get board of me and I know that if you realize that there isn’t anything more than you’ve already found you will. I don’t like parties or meeting new people. And I will never move to the city again. You are bright and vibrant and beautiful and full of life in a way I never will be. I didn’t want to have you the way I wanted and then have you realize that <i>I</i> was not what you wanted.”

Hercules stared at him, frozen and eyes wide. When he swallowed the food in his mouth and looked as if he had regained his ability to speak Robert rushed to cut him off. “However, you never gave me a reason to doubt you or think that you were looking for some better version of me. You always accepted exactly who I was and it wasn’t fair for me to assume that you didn’t know what you wanted. So I came to the city, to <i>you</i> to ask if you still want...something from me even after what I said in the barn.”

Hercules took a deep breath and Robert’s stomach twisted hard. “I don’t know where to start. Have you ever spoken that much at once before?”

“No,” Robert said, getting a laugh out of Hercules. “And I don’t intend to do it again so I hope you were paying attention.”

“I was,” he said softly, the warmth back in his voice. Slowly, like he was still afraid of spooking Robert he took his hand. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please,” Robert said, squeezing Hercules’s hand as he stood and came around the table. Robert wondered if maybe he should have stood up but Hercules just cupped his jaw in his other hand and leaned down. This kiss was softer than the first, like a promise instead of an argument. Robert stretched up into it, trying to get it to last as long as possible.

They broke apart and Hercules smiled down at him, running his thumb over Robert’s cheekbone. Robert stretched up for another kiss and Hercules met him, this time with more heat and Robert reached up to run his fingers through Hercules’s hair.

The angle was uncomfortable so he stood without breaking the kiss, holding Hercules close to him.

Hercules wasn’t going anywhere though and instead backed Robert up against the wall, their kisses more intense as they let go of each other’s hands to explore anywhere they could reach. Hercules’s thigh was suddenly between Robert’s legs and elicited a frankly embarrassing noise out of him.

Hercules pulled back, but Robert held him close. “Sorry,” Hercules said, running his hands along Robert’s sides, under his jacket. “Should probably slow down.”

“Why?”

Hercules laughed loudly, crowding even closer and resting his forehead against Robert’s. They lapsed into silence and Robert wanted to kiss him again but restrained himself. Every so often Hercules would take a deep breath like he was about to say something and then let it go again. Finally he spoke. “Don’t change your mind again, Robert,” he whispered, his eyes shut. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to take it if you do.”

“I won’t,” Robert promised. “I’m not afraid anymore.”

Hercules looked up at him with a frown. “What we’re doing is dangerous. It’s understandable to be a little scared sometimes.”

Robert tuck a bit of hair behind his ear. “I wasn’t afraid of mobs coming for me in the night. Or God’s wrath. I was afraid of falling in love with you without you loving me back.”.

Hercules laughed. “Oh that ship sailed long ago.”

Robert’s heart gave a hard thud. “Oh?”

Hercules shrugged and tucked himself closer, this time so his face was hidden in Robert’s neck. “A few weeks before we found out about James printing the flag books,” he whispered. “I was at the cafe for a drink and James said some inane thing about some woman he’d dined with the night before and you gave me this look that said so much about what you thought of his story. It was like we could have had a whole silent conversation right there. And I realized I wanted you to keep making faces at me for as long as possible.”

Robert felt his face go even hotter and his throat close up. It seemed absurd that such a small moment, a moment that they’d probably shared a hundred times even before they knew they were both spies, would be the moment that Hercules would remember as the time he fell in love with Robert.

Robert kissed his cheek since it was the only part of him that he could reach with his face hidden. Hercules pulled back and kissed him properly again. He wasn’t sure what exactly to do with his hands since they were just holding awkwardly at Hercules’s sides to keep him close but then Hercules’s tongue was in his mouth and Robert wasn’t able to think about anything beyond /wanting.

Distantly he was aware that his necktie was coming loose but it seemed unimportant. Then Hercules broke the kiss again to kiss his cheek and then jaw and then trail open mouthed kisses down his neck, moving aside his collar to get access to what he wanted, sucking and biting at his collarbone. A whine escaped Robert’s throat when he realized that there was going to be a <i>mark</i> and he very much wanted their to be a mark. He felt Hercules’s grin spread against his neck as they both paused for a second to catch their breaths.

“We don’t have to do this standing against a wall,” Hercules said smiling and peppering more kisses along Robert’s neck. “I have all sorts of furniture we can continue this on.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.” A kiss to the hinge of his jaw. “Like a couch.” A kiss to his cheek. “Or chairs.” A kiss to his chin. “A bed.” A kiss to his lips. “A chaise lounge.” A kiss to Robert’s other cheek.

“A bed?” Robert asked, pulling Hercules back for another lingering kiss.

“Yes. One I would very much like to see you in, if you’re amendable,” Hercules said with a smile.

Robert wasn’t sure how he got the words “lead the way” out because he was fairly certain all the air had been sucked out of not just his lungs but of the room.

Hercules smiled at him again but this time it was less warm and more hungry. He backed away from Robert and graciously ignored the low whine that Robert let out. He covered their long forgotten sandwiches with a tea towel, checked that the stove was firmly locked and picked up the candle with one hand, taking Robert’s in the other.

Gently, he pulled Robert through the empty house and up the stairs. The bedroom was large with a soft looking bed dominating the middle of the room. Hercules let go of his hand and shut the door softly behind them. Robert was lost for a moment while Hercules knelt by the fireplace and lit the fire with the candle.

In a burst of nerve he wasn’t quite sure of Robert sat on the end of the bed and unbuckled his shoes. He didn’t want to be presumptuous but he’d asked to be taken to bed and Mulligan had already undone his necktie so it couldn’t be that untoward.

He was lining them up by the corner of the bed carefully when Hercules turned back around, licking his lips. “Getting comfortable?”

“Is that alright?” Robert asked, hoping it came out more teasing and not as deeply unsure as he felt.

“It’s more than alright.” Hercules toed off his own shoes and shed his jacket on the way over to stand in front of Robert. Slowly, he put one hand on each shoulder and then one knee on each side of Robert’s hips until he was sitting in Robert’s lap.

Robert’s hands went to his hips automatically, slipping under the edge of his vest and feeling the warmth of Hercules through his shirt.

“Are you alright?”

Robert nodded, unable to speak past the lump in his throat.

“Can I take off your jacket?” he asked pushing the jacket lightly off of Robert’s shoulders. Robert nodded again and helped take it off, setting it aside carefully. His hands went back to Hercules’s hips holding tight.

“You should know,” he started quietly. “I’ve never…”

“Had sex with a man?” Hercules finished.

“With anyone.”

“Oh,” Hercules said, sounding out of breath as he licked his lips and blinked a few times. “We aren't going to do anything you don’t want to do. We can go s-”

“No,” Robert said, puling Hercules closer by his hips, both of them groaning at the friction it caused. “I <i>want</i> to I just thought you should know that I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Hercules kissed him softly. “You don’t need to. I’ll take of you,” he whispered into the kiss. “I’ll take such good care of you if you let me.”

Something buried deep in Robert cracked. “Please.”

***

Robert woke the next morning and nearly went back to sleep. It was warm and comfortable under the blankets and he felt content in a way he couldn’t remember ever feeling before. It might have had something to do with the fact that the sheets and pillows smelled of Hercules.

He was alone which wasn’t surprising. When he’d fallen asleep the night before Hercules had been curled up next to him with his head resting on Robert’s chest. He must have gotten up at some point to go back to his own room and wait for his wife to come home after Robert had fallen asleep.

He forced himself out of bed and got dressed. He hoped that Mrs. Mulligan was still asleep herself so that he could leave without facing her. He wasn’t worried about the cosmic ramification of what they had done last night but he didn’t want her to get suspicious since Robert seemed to have lost his ability to lie since leaving York City.

His heart sank as he left his room and heard voices coming from downstairs. He tired to be as quiet as he could but wasn’t quiet enough. Two women and Hercules appeared at the bottom of the stairs, all smiling at him. “Robert!” a woman with bright blonde hair that was stacked in curls on her head said.

“Hello,” he said awkwardly.

“I was going to bring you coffee. We didn’t wake you did we?” Hercules asked.

“No.”

“It’s so good to finally meet you. Hercules hasn’t stopped talking about you for months,” the first woman said, still smiling brightly. The other woman was watching him closely but wasn’t quite smiling or frowning, just assessing him.

“Minnie,” Hercules scolded, blushing a little.

“She’s right,” the second woman said, brunette with her hair in a bun on top of her head.

“Not you too, Franny.”

“I’m always going to take her side over yours,” she said, shaking her head. She turned and started down the corridor towards another room.

“Except for about the wallpaper I want to put in the drawing room,” Minnie said, following her.

Robert got to the bottom of the stairs and Hercules handed him a mug of coffee and quickly kissed him on the cheek. “Good morning. How did you sleep?”

“Very well, thank you.”

“Good,” he said leaning in close. “I was worried I woke you when I got dressed.”

Robert shook his head, trying to stay calm and restrained even with Hercules so temptingly close. “It’s a very comfortable bed.”

Hercules hummed. “Of course. It has nothing to do with what we did in that bed before we fell asleep,” he whispered directly into Robert’s ear, making him shiver.

Robert glared at him and wanted to kiss him but was stopped short by Minnie’s head popping out of the doorway down the hall. “Boys, breakfast,” she said impatiently.

“We’re coming,” Hercules said, taking Robert’s hand and leading him to the dining room. “I need to talk to you about Miriam and Franny.”

“I understand,” Robert said as they entered.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“Shush, Hercules,” Minnie said as Robert and Hercules sat next to each other, Robert across from Franny and Hercules across from Minnie. “You get to talk to him all the time. I want to get to know the man my husband is so smitten with.”

Robert choked on his coffee, nearly spitting it all over himself.

“What?” Minnie asked.

“I haven’t had time to explain our arrangement,” Hercules explained.

“Oh,” Minnie said quietly. “A very long story, cut very short: Hercules and I are in a loveless marriage because I’m quiet in love with Franny and I am not a man so he can’t love me.”

“I love you the way I love all my friends,” Hercules chimed in.

“So glad I can be sorted into the same category as James Rivington,” she said with a laugh.

“Not exactly the same category.”

Robert turned to Hercules. “Really? James?”

“It was before I met you.”

“I’m not jealous of James just surprised.”

“Of course you’re not jealous. You’re much more handsome than James,” Minnie said.

“I’m telling James you said that,” Hercules said with a laugh.

“If I recall the New Years party correctly James would agree,” Franny said.

“James is a big fan of yours,” Minnie said as the clock in the hall started to chime seven. Hercules stood up, shoving a piece of toast in his mouth.

“Yes, it wouldn’t do to be late the morning after a handsome stranger shows up to the shop just as you’re closing,” Minnie said with a laugh.

Hercules waved a hand at her as he leaned down and gave Robert a firm kiss. “I love you. Will you be here tonight?”

“No. I need to go back to Oyster Bay.”

“Very well. I’ll check the schedule to see when I can visit next.”

“I look forward to it.” He shot a look at the two woman who were watching them but pointedly turned away to stare at the fire when they realized they’d been caught. He pulled Hercules down for one more kiss. “I love you too,” he whispered against his lips.

Hercules’s answering smile could have lit the whole world before he dashed out the door.

The three of them sat in silence until the front door shut again and then Minnie turned to Robert, her stare harder than it had been before.

“Hercules says you’re quite intelligent so I’ll assume that you know who my father is, and what kind of people I have spent my whole life associating with,” Minnie said, her voice hard and cold. Robert could guess what kind of people she was referencing. “Hercules is my very best friend in the world and I love him very much. If you break his heart again one of those people will pay you a visit.

“I understand. I won’t.”

Franny spoke next. “I hope so. Because if not, it will not be your father who is beaten and it will not just be your barn that is burned. I don’t enjoy sitting with my friend while he cries because he thinks he did something wrong by falling in love with the wrong person.”

Robert looked at them both seriously and nodded. “I understand.”

“Good,” Minnie said, her face brightening up again. “Now let’s enjoy our breakfast before we have to get you a lunch packed up and back on your way to Oyster Bay, shall we? Hercules tells us you got into quite a lively debate about poetry. Tell us, who is your favorite poet?”

Robert answered them and they smiled and breakfast was nice despite the threat in the middle of it. He knew he should have been frightened, but instead he was happy to know that Hercules had people who loved him as much as they did. Two other people who loved him as much as Robert did.