Another story! (A lot of the stories I write are all based around Washington- I need to change that a bit)

But, this chapter was requested by Cat_Livingstone and I am happy to provide :> (Might have one with Elisha and Arnold in the future)

But, as of right now, it's George! 

So, let's get to it!

C/W:
Fighting, Elisha tries to eat a poison flower.

~Story Starts~

Elisha sighed, stomping some mud from his boots. With the spring now in full swing, they've had a few rain showers that have proven to be a bit of a burden. Elisha couldn't take a step without sinking to his ankles in mud. Though, aside from that, the complimentary of greenery made it much more tolerable. 

He glanced over his shoulders, tracking his own steps back to the stables. He sighed, knowing that travel in these conditions would be nearly impossible. 

Regardless, he straightened his uniform, and began his trek towards Washington's tent. The annoyance of the mud smacking each time he rose his foot only drove him to get there quicker. Cutting over into some grass, he sighed, happy that he could get some footing there. 

He greeted a couple guards, eyes tracing over the entrance. "Is the general busy at the moment?" 

"No, sir. His meeting ended a near half hour ago." 

Elisha nodded softly, dusting his hands. "That's good then. I've been meaning to speak with him."

"He should be available for conversation then."

"Splendid. Thank you," Elisha dismissed the guard, ordering him back to work. He moved past a couple others, pulling the flap open, stepping inside. He knocked gently against the tent pole, eyes examining the general. George was slouched over his desk, fingers intertwined in his hair, and his quill worked steadily against some paper. He was tense, and from the looks of it, he hadn't even heard the knock.

Elisha bit the inside of his cheek and took a couple more steps in. "General Washington, sir." 

"Sheldon." The man spoke simply, eyes still concentrated with the paper on his desk. "I heard you knock. What do you need?"

Elisha stared at the the general. "Oh, I was worrying that I had disturbed you... I've been meaning to have a conversation with you for awhile now."

"Yes?" George's voice sounded different, Elisha noticed that immediately. This wasn't the George he knew- far from the one that he had befriended before this war changed him.

"Are you available for a conversation right now? You seem busy, sir..." Elisha offered a half-knitted smile, hopeful that he'd come off as polite. 

"Take a seat, Mr. Sheldon." Washington pointed to a nearby chair. "What is it you need to talk about?"

"Well, sir... George." Elisha began, taking a seat. "I've been meaning to give a report on how things are going in and around camp."

Washington's brows furrowed, and he appeared uncomfortable. He straightened his back, before letting a long sigh draw from his lips. "And you couldn't write it down?" He grumbled, placing his quill in the well, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Sheldon, I'm entirely too busy for you to wonder in here whenever you please and give a progress report that could've been written down. All the other men do it- perhaps you could learn a thing or two from them, Colonel!" The general rose his voice, slamming a hand against the table.

Elisha's eyes widened, and he took a deep breath. "Sir, please..." He began.

"No. Don't even start with that- don't you think I've had enough to work with-!? I'm so behind on responding to these correspondence, I'm practically drowning in them! You're causing a disturbance to mine- and every other man's work!" 

Elisha opened his mouth to speak but couldn't find the words. He could only feel the anger building up. "George, every man in this camp feels overworked... Even myself..." 

"This is not some simple tea party, Colonel... I have an Authoritative, title. Use it." Washington ordered. 

Elisha grit his teeth now, and stood, his chair falling behind him. "Look, I'm sorry that I disrupted you for something that you view as unimportant. I simply assumed that your men's safety would be much more important to you than it is!" 

George stood, glaring at Elisha. "Do not raise your voice at me, Sheldon." 

"Why not!? You shouted at me, I have every right to shout back!" Elisha argued, baring his teeth. "I don't understand what happened to you-! You used to be so much more readable- so much more understandable- even in the beginning of the war, you had a soft glint of kindness left- where did that go!?"

"People change!" George shouted, slamming both hands against the desk. "And for the record, Sheldon... If I was the man I once was... more men would be dead. You of all people should understand that!" 

"I'm done, George. I'm done. I'm done trying so hard only for you to NEVER look in my direction. I miss you, alright? I miss you so much. I just want to be close again... I miss the George I once knew- the one that I felt it wasn't a chore to love!" 

George's expression softened only momentarily, but he soon growled, turning away. "Get out of my tent." 

"No, listen to me-"

"Get... the fuck... out." The general ordered, glaring over his shoulder. "Stay out of my face, alright? I don't want to see you." 

Elisha stared, eyes searching George's own stormy grey ones. He seen nothing other than the anger. Damn George for being able to mask how he feels so well. He couldn't believe how far torn they've been. But, at this point, George has made it clear. He didn't want want anything to do with him again. The thought made his lip quiver and he sucked in a deep breath. "Goodbye, George." He muttered, turning and walking out. 

A soldier, catching sight of the Colonel, reach a hand out. "Sir-"

"Not now." Elisha growled, hurrying away from the others. He payed no more attention to the way his boots stuck in the mud, that sound did not matter. The only sound that bothered Elisha was the looping voice of anger that reverberated in his mind. Not his own- but George's. George had never grown so violent towards him before- what pushed him so far this time?

He unconsciously pulled the gate of the stables open, grabbing his saddle. Elisha is not a man to abandon duty- he would never intentionally, but this was his last straw. He needed away- for just a couple hours at most.  Not long enough to cause concern. 

He looked to his horse, gently patting its nose, before saddling it. There is a higher risk now that the ground had thawed. He could easily be spotted by some redcoat soldiers that decided to flank off and spy on their locations. He could simply be shot off his horse- but what would George care? It's not like he's needed here anyway.

Elisha stepped into a stirrup, using the horn to pull himself over. A quick jerk of the reigns and the horse took off. Men behind called out, but he paid no attention, just watching the mud fly from under his horse's hooves.

Why should he care? He's cared for so long now- and the only thing he gets in return is George being a prick, George basically telling him that he's not worth any time whatsoever. He's been like this since Valley Forge and Elisha had already been starting to feel like Washington had lost feelings. The spark they held before the war had faded into nothing. He was nothing to George anymore. 

He carded a hand back through his hair, tears falling from his face. If he was nothing, why does it hurt so bad to know that once he was something? 

It didn't make sense. 

The George he knew was one that once held him tightly in a warm embrace, and kissed his head while they sat by the fire. The George he loved was one that he could, once upon a time, roll in flower fields with, and just watch the days pass, counting the blades of grass, watching the soft yellow pedals of a dandelion poke up through the knee-high grasses. 

It was the days where they'd sit by the creek, watching the birds, taking in the smell of the large, lonesome oak that sat on the bank. It was the days where they were skipping rocks to see who could skip one the farthest, late in the evening of August, when you could practically smell fall's arrival in the air. It's the days where they were truly happy that made him feel so much more alone now. Surely, this wasn't his George, it couldn't be.

His George was taken away by war. His George was drug away, beaten, and then returned with a new form. It was sickening to know.

His horse slowed to a halt, and Elisha just shivered, finally allowing himself to cry- no- he was sobbing. The tears streamed, and he just slumped forward, burying his face into the horses mane. Why couldn't George love him? What did he do wrong? Was the war just some excuse so Washington could break away?

The thought only triggered a loud cry from the man, his hands raking into his hair, tugging at it. He wanted to calm down, but he couldn't muster anything more than soft sobbing. He ran a palm over his cheek, trying to wipe away the tears, only for more to fall and replace them. He felt pathetic, worthless- as if he fell for some form of trick. 

He tried to get a good look at his surroundings. He was quite far from camp's boundaries. Tree covered area, thankfully. Even in his dress, he'd be hard to spot amongst the freshly sprouted leaves of low-laying bushes and young saplings. He looked to his horse, contemplating for a long time. So, he slowly slid from the saddle, feet sinking in the soft dirt under the grass. He softly patted its mane, leading it along. Despite the tears that fell, he paid no mind, eyes delicately tracing the buds of flowers that were soon to bloom. 

It felt almost refreshing to be alone. 

He knelt down, plucking a flower from the ground. A white clover, what it was. His lip quivered at the memories these little flowers held. Those times when he and George sat together, and he would braid these little things into George's hair. He's always complain later, of course, saying, "those little flowering weeds are so hard to get out of tangled hair." 

Elisha didn't care, because George looked so peaceful with flowers braided into his hair. As if god himself came down and graced the man with pure beauty. It's odd, but even George's flaws seemed so beautiful. The scar on his face from when he was young, when he had suffered with Smallpox. Those few faulty teeth that showed when he smiled so warmly- hell, Elisha had looked right past them because he had been so focused on George's eyes.

The eyes that he can only now see filled with anger. He shook lightly at the image, almost afraid of the imagery in his mind. 

He picked another flower, tracing it's petals. This one was a soft dandelion, one that had bloomed a bit earlier than the rest. The yellow was as warm as a sunset, and Elisha sighed at the memories that flooded. He didn't want to remember anymore. He didn't want to remember the George that he once had. He didn't want to remember anything.

He looked around, almost desperately, plucking a pink, velvety flower from its stem. He shook softly, letting it roll in his hands. A milkweed flower. 

There was an impulse that grew, and Elisha tried to fight it. He knew it was poison, he knew the consequences, but slowly, he lifted it to his mouth. 

He cautiously opened his mouth, more tears rolling down his face, his heart beat the only thing he can hear. 

"Elisha!" A voice called urgently. Elisha's head shot to the side, catching sight of a man running towards him. "Put the flower down." He ordered, soon grabbing the Colonel's wrists, forcing him to drop the flower. 

Elisha blinked away the tears, looking up, seeing stormy blue eyes scanning his face. "... George..?" 

"Oh god, Elisha, I'm so sorry... I didn't realize how much of a prick I had been... I-I didn't mean to shout at you- I can't believe I shouted at you..." George rambled, as he hurriedly looked Elisha over, as if checking if he had been injured. Elisha shoved his hands away, glaring. 

"George, stop-" He ordered. Washington froze, kneeling down. 

"Elisha... I'm so, so sorry about everything..."

"Do you think a 'sorry' can fix everything!?" Elisha scolded, crossing his arms, tears still pouring. "I-I just want my George back... You're not the same..."

The redhead stared, and his shoulders dropped to either side. He reach forward, cautiously, running his hand over Elisha's jaw, wiping the tears away. "No... No... A simple sorry could never fix what I have done." 

Elisha softened a bit, leaning into George's touch. He missed the feeling, he must confess. "Why did you even come after me, sir...?"

"Elisha, please... You know better than to call me 'sir'. For you, it's George..." He whispered. "I came after you... Because the men had told me you left... And... I knew I pushed my luck too far. I've lost so much- I've wasted so many men's lives... How could I lose someone who means the world to me?" 

Elisha turned to Washington, finally. He searched his face, melting when George offered him a smile. "I'm your world?"

"You are." Washington offered. "And... I'm going to try to be better... Swear it."

"Why me?"

"For you, my dear, you are the reason." Washington pulled Elisha forward, wrapping him in a hug. Elisha slowly snaked his arms around George's chest, and he buried his face into the cook of the man's neck. "You will always be my reason to change for the better..."

"Then, I swear to you. You will make things better... And I trust your words..."

George smiled, holding the other close. "I was scared I'd get here too late, you know? I thought I had lost you. I swore at myself and cursed myself up to the point I found your horse. It was possible that I had lost the one I cared about far more than I do myself..."

Elisha whimpered, looking back down at the flower that had been knocked from his hands. "... I'm glad you found me when you did." He whispered. 

George leaned back enough to get a good look at the Colonel's face, wiping the man's tear stained face clear. "I'm sorry it took me so long to realize how bad you were hurting." 

Elisha sighed quietly, leaning up enough to kiss George. When they parted, he smiled. "Damn you for being so easy to forgive."

George laughed a bit, pressing his forehead to Elisha's. "It's a blessing and a curse."

"A blessing for you, a cure for anyone else, hm?"

"You could say that-"

Both men laughed now, and Elisha stood. "So... George... Want to join me for a fine walk around the meadow?"

"It's about time we made up for all the time that we've lost, isn't it?" George questioned, a hint of mischief present in his expression. Elisha grinned a bit, offering a hand to George.

"It is."

A/N

AHHH- OKAY- SO- 

I kinda liked how this one ended.

And I hope that you all enjoyed reading this chapter- (also- maybe it made you sad- but who knows-)

Anyway, that's all from the author (for now)!

Byeee-!

(Word Count: 2600)