Captured [The Patriot Fanfic] ON HOLD

Chapter 21: A Hidden Identity

  Blythe clutched her chest after a day's worth of recoils. Her breastbone ached with the musket's blows as she finally exhaled an arduous sigh, plunking down on the stone step of the abandoned cemetery; still in disbelief that she signed herself onto the militia. From being  a waitress in a local Waynesboro diner, here she was a young lady in a freaking militia. The last place she would even expect to be was at a campsite with a whole bunch of other men dressed in a revealing poet's shirt, rider trousers, and combat boots, luckily now was when a modern-day underslip came in handy. Yet even palpating over the minimal padding, she could feel the soreness from the many rear jerks of the sturdy musket. She closed her eyes for a moment, for once allowing her mind to relax and recollect after the constant gunshots that rang out as she stretched out on the frigid stone readjusting her cape over the revealing slip of her chest. A sigh of relaxation escaped her lips as she dozed off.

    For once, it felt as if she was back the glum city of Waynesboro, back within the walls of her room, the comfort of her own bed, Mom being at work, and Dad up in Heaven, there was not a single soul to rely on. Only her thoughts of graduating and moving forward with life remained; knowing there was more than just being a fast-paced waitress in skimpy uniform garb, that was demanded to be worn by a perverted boss, who never cut any slack for her in particular. Jeff's non-stop sneers rang in her brain with his constant taunts and lewd comments aimed directly towards her, despite the much effort she put in working full-time. But then again, here she was stuck two hundred something years back doing what was unimaginable, unthinkable... Unbelievable. The bonds she developed within this short while in this pivotal, historical period were so unreal to even herself. Suddenly it all became so clear within her introspective doze, the modern-day held nothing for her. This was where she needed to be, here and now within the heart of the unrest; the love, hate, and war that made her future land. Her sudden realization was followed with a surging wave arousing her back to alertness.

   "Dear child do not scare us so." Reverend Oliver's voice croaked out as Blythe awoke dripping wet to  his face followed by Dan Scott right beside him with a small pail in hand. She quickly wiped the excess moisture from underneath her eyes as she looked up attentively.

   "Damnit." She murmured. "What happened?"

    "Benjamin has requested you for a moment my dear." The caved-eyed gent added as he helped her up.

   Blythe puffed out a stressful sigh, her loaned clothes now clung to her body as she wrung out parts of her cape. "Thank you Reverend." She spoke as she slowly paced past him, and scowling Dan who now stroked at the fine hairs of his untamed beard, glaring at the small bucket that drenched her awake. With no hesitation, she proceeded towards the first tent to her left spotting Benjamin inside.

    "You requested me Sir?" Blythe questioned as she undid her braid allowing her hair to cling to her back.

   "Yes Blythe. I have a concern."

   "Well, go on." 

 Benjamin's forehead creases grew prominent, and she knew it was important. "Has Tavington ever requested your name by any chance?"

Her eyebrows came closer. "Yes, but only my first and last name."

His thumb and index finger secured around his chin in a short, stern reverie before staring at her full name upon the militia recruit list

   "Upon your signature, I see you have also put the name J-J..." He trailed off in confusion.

   "Janis, it is my middle name."

    Why the hell did I sign my middle name? She thought to herself.

   "I see. Blythe, I want you to be safe for as long as you are here." He gave her a stare of sincerity, his bluish-green eyes grew transparent. "I hate having to ask you, but for the risk of Tavington finding you, would you consider to go by this middle name of yours for this short while?"

   Blythe gulped for a moment as she stared up at him but for his sake she couldn't say no now. Her breath grew heavy as a shiver rippled through her core, her lips curved in tightly pressed and her eyes clenched shut with a screaming will to just breathe out "No."

   "Yes Sir." She dourly answered.

   "It is settled, you will hearby remain under the name Janis until I can get you to safety."

  She pensively nodded as she stood. "Will that be all?"

   "Continue to improve your aim, that will be all Janis."

 Blythe stared down for a moment and nodded before exiting to the remote part of the swamped graveyard in which the tombstones laid adrift in the stagnant waters. As she emanated a painful sigh, a ineluctable pain knifed her heart as she realized she was not only at war with the British, but against William, the man she loved, the man Benjamin abhorred, this time there was no escape... She had to do this. Blythe re-braided her dampened hair over her shoulder as tears freely fell down her cheeks, a bead of blood could be felt as she bit into the now-chapped flesh of her bottom lip. Her azure eyes dilated at the provocative slip of her chest, concealing it with her cape and the hood draped a tad over her eyes... Saying goodbye to Blythe; her true identity was now on hold. Her fingers trembled as she grasped the musket, eyeing the setting sun above her; unwillingly, and reluctantly welcoming in the genesis of Janis.